The Embassy of Cambodia

“I doubt there is a man or woman among us, for example, who—upon passing the Embassy of Cambodia for the first time—did not immediately think: ‘genocide.’”

Fatou and the unnamed narrator are never able to view the embassy or people entering and leaving the embassy as dynamic institutions or people. Instead, they always view them through the lens of negative stereotypes, highlighting the theme of The Consequences of Dehumanization and Stereotypes. However, this reminder of genocide serves as a symbol of the atrocities in the world, which is often the subject of conversation between Fatou and Andrew.

“And nobody beat Fatou, although Mrs. Derawal had twice slapped her in the face, and the two older children spoke to her with no respect at all and thanked her for nothing. (Sometimes she heard her name used as a term of abuse between them. ‘You’re as black as Fatou.’ Or ‘You’re as stupid as Fatou.’) On the other hand, just like the girl in the newspaper, she had not seen her passport with her own eyes since she arrived at the Derawals’, and she had been told from the start that her wages were to be retained by the Derawals to pay for the food and water and heat she would require during her stay, as well as to cover the rent for the room she slept in.”

After reading a newspaper article about an enslaved woman living in modern-day London, Fatou goes to great lengths to convince herself that she is not enslaved like the woman, even though there are many similarities between their experiences. However, through this comparison, the full extent of the Derawals’ dehumanization of Fatou is revealed, particularly in Mrs. Derawal’s violence and the children’s insults. In hiding her passport and withholding her wages, they have created a situation of domestic enslavement.

“The fact is if we followed the history of every little country in this world—in its dramatic as well as its quiet times—we would have no space left in which to live our own lives or to apply ourselves to our necessary tasks, never mind indulge in occasional pleasures, like swimming. Surely there is something to be said for drawing a circle around our attention and remaining within that circle. But how large should this circle be?”

Throughout the short story, Fatou is obsessed with understanding why people—and herself—suffer. The unnamed narrator argues that people must focus on their individual and local experiences; otherwise, they would be devastated by the sheer amount of suffering found in the world. As a result, however, people’s worldviews are often limited, which is explored in the theme of the consequences of dehumanization and stereotypes.

“He did a little dance with his upper body, and Fatou tried, not for the first time, to imagine what he might be like as a husband, but could see only herself as the wife, and Andrew as a teen-age son of hers, bright and helpful, to be sure, but a son all the same—though in reality he was three years older than she. Surely it was wrong to find his baby fat and struggling mustache so off-putting. Here was a good man! She knew that he cared for her, was clean, and had given his life to Christ. Still, some part of her rebelled against him, some unholy part.”

Despite Andrew being her only friend and him having a romantic interest in her, Fatou is never able to fully view him in the same romantic light. This is perhaps because she would have to give up some of her independence and identity if she married him, and she wants to keep the little freedom she has.

“‘Oi, she saved your life,’ said Julie, the eldest child, whom Fatou generally liked the least. ‘Fatou saved your life. That’s deep.’

‘I woulda just done this,’ Faizul said, and performed an especially dramatic Heimlich to his own skinny body. ‘And if that didn’t work I woulda just start pounding myself karate style, bam bam bam bam bam—’

‘Faizul!’ Mr. Derawal shouted, and then turned stiffly to Fatou, and spoke not to her, exactly, but to a point somewhere between her elbow and the sunburst mirror behind her head. ‘Thank you, Fatou. It’s lucky you were there.’”

When Fatou saves Asma’s life, the Derawals are forced to feel gratitude and are indebted to Fatou. They are used to having Fatou feel indebted to them, and they are unsure about and uncomfortable with this role reversal. The children react interestingly, with the eldest daughter acknowledging the strangeness of the act occurring specifically with Fatou.

“In Willesden, we are almost all New People, though some of us, like Fatou, were, until quite recently, Old People, working the land in our various countries of origin. Of the Old and New People of Willesden I speak; I have been chosen to speak for them, though they did not choose me and must wonder what gives me the right. I could say, ‘Because I was born at the crossroads of Willesden, Kilburn, and Queen’s Park!’ But the reply would be swift and damning: ‘Oh, don’t be foolish, many people were born right there; it doesn’t mean anything at all. We are not one people and no one can speak for us. It’s all a lot of nonsense. We see you standing on the balcony, overlooking the Embassy of Cambodia, in your dressing gown, staring into the chestnut trees, looking gormless. The real reason you speak in this way is because you can’t think of anything better to do.’”

The unnamed narrator uses language popularized during the Cambodian Genocide as a way to explore the vast diverse population found in Willesden and each of those populations' unique struggles. However, they are aware that they cannot speak for everyone, and many people would be upset at them trying to convey everyone’s unique experiences and thoughts. The narrator also knows they are merely an observer and even a gossip in the neighborhood, as “[there is] nothing better to do.”

“That was when she knew that the Devil was stupid as well as evil. She spat in his face and left. Thinking about the Devil now made her swimming fast and angry, and for a while she easily lapped the young white man in the lane next to hers, the faster lane.”

Throughout the short story, the symbol of the Devil appears whenever Fatou experiences severe trauma or pain. Instead of being scared, she often uses this suffering as a motivator to escape her suffering. By understanding the Devil as “stupid,” she provides herself an avenue through which to diminish him. Additionally, by swimming faster than the white man in the swimming pool, she is symbolically passing him with her wealth of life experience.

“‘One day, at the hotel, I heard a commotion on the beach. It was early morning. I went out and I saw nine children washed up dead on the beach. Ten or eleven years old, boys and girls. They had gone into the water, but they didn’t know how to swim. Some people were crying, maybe two people. Everyone else just shook their heads and carried on walking to where they were going. After a long time, the police came. The bodies were taken away. People said, ‘Well, they are with God now.’ Everybody carried on like before. I went back to work. The next year I arrived in Rome. I saw a boy who was about fifteen years old knocked down on his bike. He was dead. People were screaming and crying in the street. Everybody crying. They were not his family. They were only strangers. The next day, it was in the paper.’

And Andrew replied, ‘A tap runs fast the first time you switch it on.’”

Fatou’s recollection of past events demonstrates how much she has seen of the world and the trauma she experienced, particularly in Ghana. Andrew’s response implies that people who witness repeated traumas are unable to react with as much emotion and sympathy as people who rarely see trauma, like the people in Rome. This response encourages Fatou to convert to Catholicism.

“‘My goodness, it was just a little marble,’ Mrs. Derawal said, and Fatou realized that it was not in her imagination: since Sunday night, neither of the adult Derawals had been able to look her in the eye.

‘What a fuss everybody is making. I have a list for you—it’s on the table.’”

Following Fatou saving Asma’s life, Mr. and Mrs. Derawal are unable to make eye contact with her, implying that they now view her as human and are ashamed of how they have treated her. This quote also suggests that Mrs. Derawal is attempting to normalize the situations while the others are making “a fuss.”

“Fatou sighed. ‘I never met a man who didn’t want to tell everybody how to think and what to do,’ she said.

Andrew laughed. ‘Fatou, you include me? Are you a feminist now, too?’

Fatou brought her mug up to her lips and looked penetratingly at Andrew. There were good and bad kinds of weakness in men, and she had come to the conclusion that the key was to know which kind you were dealing with.”

When Fatou pushes back against Andrew’s ideas, he asks if she is a feminist. Fatou realizes that to regain control of the situation—and maintain her self-reliance, independence, and agency—she must understand Andrew better and wants to do so through swimming, which is something she excels at. She wants to know “which kind” of weakness she is dealing with.

“‘I’m an excellent badminton player,’ Andrew said, as they passed the Embassy of Cambodia. ‘I would make you weep for mercy! Next time, instead of swimming we should play badminton somewhere.’ Next time, we should go to Paris. Next time, we should go to the moon. He was a dreamer. But there are worse things, Fatou thought, than being a dreamer.”

Badminton, more specifically the shuttlecock, is a recurring motif throughout the short story that represents the theme of The Pain and Suffering of Daily Life. When Andrew says he’s an excellent badminton player, he is conveying that he is removed from the pain and suffering Fatou experiences, as well as many of the realities of daily suffering as “a dreamer.”

“Fatou kicked off, creating so much splash that she heard someone in the adjacent lane complain. At the wall, she turned and looked for Andrew. His method, such as it was, involved dipping deep under the water and hanging there like a hippo, then batting his arms till he crested for air, and then diving down again and hanging. It was a lot of energy to expend on such a short distance, and by the time he reached the wall he was panting like a maniac. His eyes—he had no goggles—were painfully red.

‘It’s O.K.,’ Fatou said, trying to take his hand again. ‘If you let me, I’ll show you how.’ But he shrugged her off, and rubbed at his eyes.

‘There’s too much bloody chlorine in this pool.’”

It appears that Andrew is not a skilled swimmer, but he still balks when Fatou offers to help him swim better. Andrew doesn’t want to admit his lack of skills, instead blaming the pool’s high concentration of chlorine. The way in which Andrew ineffectively moves through the water also mirrors that, despite his way with words and the affects he assumes, he, unlike Fatou, is not skilled in navigating the metaphorical waters of a challenging daily life.

“‘What you don’t understand is that we have no need for a nanny,’ she said, standing in the doorway of Fatou’s room—there was not really enough space in there for two people to stand without one of them being practically on the bed. ‘The children are grown. We need a housekeeper, one who cleans properly. These days, you care more about the children than the cleaning,’ Mrs. Derawal added, though Fatou had never cared for the children, not even slightly. ‘And that is of no use to us.’”

Following Asma’s choking incident, the Derawals look for an excuse to fire Fatou. They claim she is focused too much on the children, even though the only time she paid attention to the children was when Asma was choking. They are unable to cope with the realization that Fatou is human, capable of saving their daughter and much more. It is therefore easier to have her out of sight rather than confronting their own crime.