Free Of Beetles and Angels by Mawi Asgedom Page A

work errors multiplied — a lost key here, an unlocked door there — until his employers had no choice.
    He arrived at his job one day as Haileab Asgedom, the working man supporting his family.
    He returned home that same day as Haileab Asgedom, the unemployed beetle.
    Such is the fate of many immigrant fathers, especially those from third-world countries. Those who can find work often toil at menial jobs. Those who cannot, stay home. For both, life is a far cry from the glory and self-worth they knew back in their homeland.
    For Haileab, it meant several levels of dependence.
    He could not get a driver’s license because he could not pass the vision test. And though he could still ride his bike, he usually relied on others to get around.
    On the worst days, his eyes swelled almost completely shut. Then he was forced to stay upstairs in bed.
    The doctors could heal him, he told us, if they really wanted to.
    W ITH ALL OF THEIR EDUCATION AND TECHNOLOGY, THESE DOCTORS COULD HELP ME.
    B UT THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT HELPING YOU IN THIS COUNTRY. T HE DOCTORS HERE ARE NOT HOW WE WERE IN A DI . T HERE, WE TREATED EVERYONE THE BEST THAT WE COULD, REGARDLESS OF THEIR FINANCIAL SITUATION .
    B UT IN THIS COUNTRY, THEY CARE ABOUT YOUR MONEY . I F YOU DON’T HAVE MONEY, THEY WON’T GIVE YOU THE REAL TREATMENT BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO.
    Eventually, my father lost his teeth and had to get dentures. Then came diabetes, which forced him to adjust his diet.
    As his physical condition worsened, so did his emotional state. The more time he spent in the house, the more obsessed he became with household details. S IT DOWN, EVERYONE. W E NEED TO IDENTIFY THE PERSON WHO LEFT THE CUP ON THE STAIRWELL . Y OU SHALL NOT MOVE EVEN ONE INCH UNTIL WE FIND THE CULPRIT.
    The most innocent actions became an assault on his character.
    C AN YOU BELIEVE THAT FRIEND OF SELAMAWI’S ? H OW DARE HE CALL S ELAMAWI AND INVITE OUR FAMILY TO DINNER WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST ? I GUESS THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ARE A FALLEN OAK. N O ONE RESPECTS YOU ANYMORE .
    Fearing that he was losing control and respect, he became increasingly paranoid. But what would you expect? He stayed home twenty-four hours a day, unable to work, barely able to see, and dependent on others for his welfare. He had all the time in the world to wish for his past, ponder his present, and question his future.
    Still, my father had never known shyness. And he maintained his vigor. So he focused his energies elsewhere: on his homeland, on his neighborhood, on his family — though not always to our liking.
    When we kids were in elementary school, he started to wake us up at five in the morning so we could do aerobics.
    W HERE ARE YOU GOING TO SAY THAT YOU GREW UP ? E H ? H ow ARE YOU GOING TO SAY THAT YOU GREW UP IN W HEATON WHEN YOU DIDN’T TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ALL OF THE RESOURCES THAT YOU HAD AROUND YOU ? D O YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE BACK IN A DI WOULD DO TO BE IN YOUR SHOES ? A NYTHING.
    We wanted to respond with some common sense —
We’ll happily say that we grew up in Wheaton, and like everyone else in Wheaton, we want to be asleep right now.
    But that would have resulted in a near-death experience, so we did the aerobics.
    Other times, he led us to the Wheaton College track. We usually beat the dawn.
    I T IS IMPORTANT FOR YOU TO RUN EVERY DAY AND TO GET STRONG . Y OU SEE THE LANES. T HERE ARE EIGHT OF THEM. I WANT YOU TO CIRCLE THE TRACK IN EACH OF THOSE LANES ONCE.
    Like with the aerobics, we would have mutinied had we not harbored such respect for our good friend Mr. Quul-fee. Mr. Quul-fee was long and made of animal skin — he could usually be found around my father’s waist — and when he came to call, you cried.
    So we circled the lanes as fast as we could, racing each other, with my father timing each lap.
    But he did not just sit by and time us; he practiced what he preached. No matter how much his fifty-year-old frame ached, he always hobbled the two miles with us. He would