When Stars Are Scattered

“My dad’s friend’s cousin just got sent to America, and he sends back money every month. Everyone there is super rich!”

Omar’s friend Jeri tries to convince Omar to give up the dream of returning to Somalia for the glorious benefits of wealth and prospects in America. Omar does not mention aloud that his true intention is to find his mother if he can get back to Somalia. Jeri appears to believe what he tells Omar, but the reader will note the hyperbolic irony in the notion that “everyone” in America is wealthy. His claim to know someone recently “sent” also smacks of gossip and rumor (“My dad’s friend’s cousin…”). This interaction between Jeri and Omar sets the stage for later conflict regarding resettlement.

“It’s all arranged. You can start school tomorrow… in the fifth grade. If you want to, that is.”

Salan, a community leader who helps the Dadaab refugees, places the decision to attend school firmly in Omar’s control. Nothing stands in Omar’s way except his own fears and equivocation. Fatuma, his “foster mom,” tells him he is old enough to decide on his own. Without any adults to consult except the silent star toward which he sometimes looks to commune with his parents, the line represents how Omar faces an impactful choice at his young age, one that starts him on a path toward his future.

“Fatuma will take care of you. You’ll be safe.”

Having decided to attend school, Omar comforts Hassan, and his message is partially an attempt to assuage his own fears and guilt. Omar is afraid that a sudden tragic attack or other catastrophe will occur while he is separated from Hassan, making it impossible to reunite—like the situation that caused their separation from their mother seven years before. His most important responsibility is to his brother, but Omar now realizes that, ironically, he might best serve his brother by leaving him for school.

“Well, not all the kids in the camp are Somali, are they? That guy is Ethiopian, those kids over there are Sudanese… Everyone speaks different languages, so English is something everyone can understand.”

Omar’s good friend Jeri explains to Omar why they cannot speak their home country’s language at the school. The line demonstrates and reiterates a strong point about Dadaab: Refugees hail from not one country in Africa but many. The mention here reminds the reader of an earlier line Omar shares regarding the refugees’ shared experiences; they are all there for safety because the warlike conditions back home are too dangerous.

“Maryam’s getting married?”

Fatuma tells Omar that his friend Maryam is betrothed, and Omar is surprised. Initially, he wonders why Maryam would bother to study or attend school if she is to be married. Soon, though, he realizes Maryam is first in the class among the girls; then, he sees that Maryam hopes to stay in school. Seeing her initiative and motivation to seek a scholarship instead of marriage is one of several factors that boosts Omar toward new perspectives of those around him.

“What are the empty days? Well…”

Omar returns to the issue of hunger with a clear illustration of dwindling food supplies and an explanation of the days in between when the rations run out and when he can collect new rations. Hunger in the camp is sometimes a nuisance, sometimes a hazard, but always a companion and constant conflict. Omar often feels hungry at night, and students get grumpy during the empty days at school. 

“Why did she leave us? Why didn’t she come with us?”

To pair with the previous quote, the name “empty days” also represents Omar’s emptiness without his mother in this chapter. Her loss and his missing her sometimes overwhelms him, much like hunger overwhelms the youngest children in the camp. Here, after Omar thinks he sees his mother in the food rations lines but does not, he cannot help but unleash his sorrow to Fatuma, who can only try to soothe him the way the mothers try to soothe their babies who cannot understand their own hunger.

“There are lots of jerks like Tall Ali and… well, other people… who think I can’t do anything because I limp. But they’re wrong.”

Indirectly, Jeri shows strength and wisdom in these lines. Later, the reader will learn that the “other people” in this quote refers to Jeri’s father, a morose man whose bid and bribe for his family’s relocation through UN channels fails. For now, this cryptic clue adds complexity to Jeri’s traits and suspense to the given circumstances.

“You’re using Hassan as an excuse.”

In a scene in which the reader indirectly learns of the quiet, no-nonsense strength of Maryam, she tells Omar bluntly that he is squandering his gifts if he quits school and skips the examinations. Omar feels an internal conflict parallel to the one he felt with his initial decision to begin school. His guilt over leaving Hassan almost prevented his schooling then, and now that Hassan has been injured by bullies, his guilt again incites Omar’s choice to stay at Hassan’s side. Maryam, though, is determined to show Omar that he should take full advantage of the gifts he is given, a theme in the novel.

“Now imagine yourself as one of those stars. Your light is bright and shines for millions of miles.”

Omar’s English teacher Michael offers this metaphor to the middle schoolers. It is part of his morning address, which Omar calls a “motivational speech,” in which he reminds students that they are just as capable and deserving of opportunities as those who are not refugees. The metaphor’s imagery here suggests that the students can leave an impact that lasts and carries indeterminately while also reminding them that the world is bigger than the boundaries of Dadaab.

“The list. Everyone in Dadaab knows about the list.”

Word travels fast that Abdikarim and his family will be heard in a first interview at the UN office. “The list” is the only gateway to resettlement and freedom that Omar knows of besides the scholarship once sought by Nimo and Maryam, and it symbolizes the chance for a future outside of Dadaab. Here, the family’s good fortune foreshadows Omar’s eventual selection for an interview.

“I am here in Dadaab, a refugee camp in the middle of Kenya, in Africa. Dadaab opened in 1992 as a temporary refuge for Somalis fleeing the civil war in their country. However, ten years later, Dadaab seems far from temporary, as the unrest in Somalia shows no sign of slowing.”

Readers may have concluded or researched details about the story’s setting, but finally, in Chapter 10, evidence is given regarding time and place. The authors employ a news correspondent to reveal facts about the Somali civil war and its long-lasting effects. Ironically, as she relays the dire information to the camera, refugee children like Omar crowd around her in the picture, smiling with great joy for the camera, excited about the news crew’s visit. Also, ironically, when the report is over, this woman who noted how much help is needed offers none as she boards the truck and drives away.

“Good luck tomorrow, my brother.”

Initially, when Omar makes “the list,” Jeri cannot speak to him. He avoids Omar altogether rather than experience strong envy. The reader is reminded of Jeri’s father’s bitterness regarding a failed attempt to obtain an interview and Jeri’s hope that his father would not learn that Abdikarim’s family was selected. Through indirect characterization, Jeri shows that he is a kinder, more empathetic person than his father when he later brings Omar a lantern and greets him as a brother.

“I don’t know, Nimo. But when God gives you a gift, you have to use it, right?”

This line from Omar demonstrates that he took Maryam’s lesson to heart two years before when he almost quit school. Here, he wonders, along with Nimo, why they have been chosen for an interview out of so many who deserve it. Ultimately, Omar chooses to focus on making everything he can from this opportunity. This line exemplifies the ongoing theme of “Recognizing and Utilizing One’s Gifts.”

“Don’t be scared, my brave boy. I need you to take care of your brother. I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

Omar’s mother speaks these words in his flashback to the day the armed men killed his father and burned their village. This quote anchors much of the past mystery in the narrative regarding Omar’s search for his mother and the subsequent grief, frustration, and anger resulting from losing her. The lines explain Omar’s intense need to protect Hassan and pique the reader’s interest in Mama’s fate.

“It may sound weird, but that was the first cold drink I’d ever had in my entire life.”

During the first UN interview, the man asking questions brings Omar a glass of orange drink with ice cubes. Omar is amazed at the feel of cold. The moment exists in sharp contrast to the surrounding tragic flashback; the reader connects the loss of Omar’s parents and the losses experienced by other refugees with the sweeping number of simple joys that refugees miss due to their living conditions and circumstances.

“I kept going to school, of course—I didn’t want to be too far behind in my classes when I started school in America.”

The art here shows the irony of this descriptive line in Omar’s viewpoint: He is indeed in school, but he gazes upward, chin propped on a hand, while Jeri focuses studiously on a paper he is writing. A thought bubble furthers the situational irony—Omar’s mind is not on his current schoolwork at all: “I wonder what school is like in America” (198). Now in his first month after the first UN interview, Omar tries not to think too much about hearing back from them—but his daydreams reveal the extent to which the possibility of resettlement is on his mind.

“How long can you wait before you lose all hope?”

This passage begins with an oft-recalled sentiment: “In a refugee camp, it felt like all you ever did was wait” (200). Panels then depict the long waits for food, water, messages, and happiness. To compound the toll that waiting takes on the refugees, several panels revisit Jeri’s struggle with his father; the artwork shows that Jeri’s father struck or hurt him; he has a bruise on his face and a “star” illustration nearby representing physical pain.

“And then, it’s as if the darkness is swept away from my eyes, and for the first time in weeks I notice someone besides myself.”

Omar is in the middle of angrily telling Maryam she has no clue how it feels to have your dreams extinguished when he realizes she is pregnant. He sees that his behavior and comments are inconsiderate and egocentric. The metaphor in this line invokes the common symbolism of sight equating to understanding. With a new comprehension of his own and others’ hopes and dreams, Omar apologizes to Maryam.

“We’re kind of like local celebrities.”

Omar refers with this simile to Jeri and himself. Their section of Ifo camp, A2, shares pride in Jeri’s and Omar’s accomplishment of getting into high school by passing the KCPE. A footnote beneath the illustrations indicates that the KCPE (Kenya Certificate of Primary Education) tests are strenuous exams one must pass to attend high school. This line is lighthearted in tone, but Omar demonstrates great pride and appreciation for his education throughout Part 3.

“Being a refugee means you don’t really have a future.”

Omar writes this line to summarize his points in a homework composition, “What It Means to Be a Refugee.” He notes he is stuck without a home, as he cannot return to Somalia nor make a life in Kenya; he cannot provide Hassan with medical care; he cannot get a well-paying job to care for his family. The panel following this line is a wordless image of Omar looking toward the stars at night, a motif that repeats throughout the book and represents his search for groundedness and a future.

“Ever since I got to this refugee camp, people have been telling me to wait. Wait for the war to be over. Wait to be resettled. Wait for news of your mother. Tonight, I’m done waiting.”

In a critical coming-of-age moment, Omar decides to listen to his heart and continue the search for Hassan, which will take him into the dangerous bush at night. The line demonstrates a new maturity in 17-year-old Omar; additionally, the line’s tone foreshadows a reckoning soon to come in Omar’s life. Indeed, his words prove prophetic in that soon, he will no longer have to wait for his future to begin.

“I am choosing to leave Dadaab now.”

Omar realizes a level of empowerment he has never experienced before when he and Hassan are selected for resettlement to the US. His dynamic development here indicates a boy who has grown in patience, struggled with hope, and learned to focus on family. The art imagery depicts the tearful goodbyes, and Omar notes that while deciding to leave should be simple, the decision is actually very difficult. Knowing now he must always utilize his gifts—a theme in the novel—Omar does not waver in his decision.