The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears

Forced to flee Ethiopia during the revolution and at the age of 16, Sepha’s traumatic displacement stunted his development and sense of self. When he thinks of Africa, he identifies himself as a son and brother responsible for his father’s death and therefore tries to distance himself from that identity. In America, he seeks anonymity and wonders who he is: “With each blink a new face looked back at me, simultaneously handsome and grotesque and nondescript. Who was I? That was all I wanted to know” (109).

Sepha does not fit neatly into the category of immigrant because he was forced to leave Ethiopia—he is a refugee. Always between worlds, Sepha does not feel like he truly belongs anywhere. His loss and longing even prevent him from allowing himself to experience joy, hope, and possibility:

There is something unsettling about spring in DC, a cautionary tale of overindulgence and inflated expectations that seems embedded in the grass and in the trees. I thought I had long since learned to keep those expectations in check, but it happens anyway, doesn’t it? We forget who we are and where we came from, and in doing so, believe we are entitled to much more than we deserve (43).

Sepha seems determined to keep himself from being happy; he has resigned himself to a life of unhappiness because he believes that is what he deserves. He longs to belong with Judith and Naomi, and for a few months he thought it might just be possible, but as his allusion to spring in DC suggests, beauty and possibility are only fleeting. Sepha is always anticipating the departure of joy, and sometimes ensures it is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Sepha has several available identities from which he could choose. He could remain Ethiopian and stay immersed in the people and culture like his uncle, or he could strive to become American like Kenneth. Sepha instead chooses the anonymity that comes with being poor and Black in America. He feels he can avoid expectations this way and possibly avoid disappointing anyone else in his life. But when Judith and Naomi move into the neighborhood, Sepha feels his anonymity slipping away and being replaced by attachment, connection, and a sense of identity in America. For a moment, Sepha feels like he belongs to someone and even to some place. Naomi helps him clean and repair his store and decorate it for the holidays: “At the end of the afternoon, when I stopped and looked back on all that we had done, I felt the pride of ownership that Americans always speak of with such reverence” (109-110). He enjoys the feeling of becoming American, but without Naomi and Judith to keep him tethered to the idea, he returns to the “in-between” and the absence of identity.

Nostalgia is a complex concept that often includes notions of history without the guilt and an ache of homesickness for things now far away in space and time. Sepha lives in his memories but exists in contemporary Washington, DC. His father haunts him, and Sepha ruminates on their past talks and walks during his daily DC life. It is through his uncle’s letters that Sepha revisits the death of his father, though he never says the word “death.” Sepha recounts the sequence of events without emotion. He never indicates how he feels about these events or how they shaped his life. He remains a detached narrator. This is the function of nostalgia for Sepha: He can recall and remember the people, places, and experiences without having to feel the untenable emotions of those circumstances. Unfortunately, shutting off his feelings means he also cannot experience joy or happiness.

Memory and nostalgia are Sepha’s truth. He uses memories to remind himself of who he will not allow himself to be, what he does not deserve, and to avoid his present:

A man, I told myself, is defined not by his possessions but by the company he keeps. That was a phrase I had stolen from my father, along with this: the character of a man is like the tail of a monkey; it is always behind him. I knew from experience that moments of sorrow and self-pity were the best times to think of these old phrases and axioms. Not because they provided any comfort, but because, like any other deliberate act of memory, they could supplant the present with their own incorrigible truth (59-60).

Memories are all that Sepha has left. He does not know how to look forward, only back. As time marches onward, Sepha and his past are kept in his present. This prevents Sepha from embodying his true present. He desperately wants to be with Judith and Naomi, but they are part of his present and are therefore inaccessible. He instead applies a sense of nostalgia to the present moments with Judith and Naomi, literally presenting them as the past within the narrative’s structure, and even as he experiences them, romanticizing their end. Because of this, Sepha misses the opportunity to look ahead and plan a future. He fails to take advantage of making genuine human connections in the present moment.