While door-knocking with Art yesterday, we visited with many voters who were outside savoring a slight break in the temp.  A couple of neighbors were enjoying an afternoon chat when we approached.

  After introductions, one of the gentlemen surprised us by stating, “I don’t know how I’m voting, but one thing’s for certain:  I’m not voting for Obama!”  (It’s during situations like this when Art must work hard to listen and to educate voters about the facts – and to coax the conversation back to state issues.  : ) 

I’m going to abruptly change topics now, and tell you about a luncheon that Mom, Art and I attended earlier in the afternoon.  This was a traditional Eritrean affair, and the food was delicious, but the conversation with our African dinner mate, Tom (name changed), even more incredible.  This is his story, as well as I remember (and could comprehend from my friend’s thick accent). 

Tom was born in a small impoverished Eritrean village in the 1950s.  To attend elementary school, he had to walk several kilometers.  The closest high school was in the city, so his mom gave him three days worth of bread (the ingredients must have been different from what our recipes require, because he said the bread spoiled after 3 days) and then a sack of flour.  He stayed in the city during the week, making his own bread for his meals over an open fire when his mom’s supply ran out.   Obviously, even at a young age, Tom understood the importance of education and how it could positively impact his future.  Shortly after high school, however, his future plans were abruptly altered as Tom was declared a political dissenter and put In jail.  For seven years, life was hell, and all Tom would say to further illustrate this period in his life was, “I’m a survivor.”   After he was released from imprisonment, he joined up with a tribe (one of several nomadic groups that populate his country) to find safe passage into Addis Ababa.  Food was scarce and to survive, the tribe ate goat and camel (but Tom couldn’t bring himself to consume the latter).   He was lucky enough to obtain a job at the American Embassy working as a translator.  This was a good position, and he stayed on for many years. 

So, how did Tom get from Ethiopia to Cedar Rapids, Iowa?  In the 1990s, there were refugee flights out of Khartoum and Tom managed to secure a seat on one.   Arriving in America, Tom was granted political asylum and came to CR where a non-profit group assisted with housing and job placement.  Wow!  What an incredibly brave and resourceful man!  After Tom related his amazing life’s story, we sat around the dining room table, quiet for a few moments.  Then Tom said something profound that we take for granted, “In my country, you would never be able to say anything negative about your government.  President Obama?  Even if you didn’t care for him or his policies, you could never voice that opinion in public.”

Over the past year, we have met people with an incredible diversity of opinions on a wide variety of political issues. Some views, even like that of the man I quoted in the beginning, I disagree with. What a privilege to live in a country where we have the freedom to share those beliefs without fear of reprisal or imprisonment.