Josh Swiller’s memoir of his experiences in Africa, “The Unheard,” provides a new perspective on a continent that is often the focus of nonfiction writers.
Most Peace Corps volunteers going to Africa surmount cultural and linguistic barriers. But when Swiller arrived at Mununga, Zambia, in 1994, he had a greater impediment. His trip to Africa was part of a larger struggle to come to grips with his deafness.
The book unfolds at the end of Swiller’s journey, when he is thrust into the life-threatening situation of an attack of angry African villagers. His unreliable hearing aids prevent him from differentiating the angry cries of the mob outside and the sounds of a nearby river.
Swiller intensifies serious situations throughout the novel by including the weight of his hearing situation.
As “The Unheard” backtracks to the beginnings of his journey, Swiller imparts insight into the African cultures he encounters. From villagers’ superstitions of ndoshi (witch doctors) to the local boys’ fascination with Sports Illustrated photographs that reveal female legs ““ which are usually hidden from view in the village ““ the details Swiller pulls out from his journey are carefully chosen and add an interesting angle to the story of his time in Africa.
The characters Swiller encounters pulsate off the page and leave lasting images in the mind. Whether he is describing his steadfast friend, Jere, or the ominous villain of the village, Boniface, it is hard to believe such a range of distinct characters originate in reality and do not come from Swiller’s imagination.
For each of Swiller’s small triumphs in the villages, the touching moments are balanced by brutal ones.
Alcoholism and malaria run rampant throughout Mununga, mothers bring in 1-pound babies to the village clinics, and Swiller increasingly comes to the realization that not only is village leadership utterly inefficient, but the Peace Corps cannot bring any sudden, widespread improvements.
And through this roller coaster ride of highs and extreme lows, the reader forgets Swiller’s hearing problem and that becomes part of the memoir’s point.
When Swiller is thrust out of American upper-middle class society and into scenes of devastation and poverty, Swiller himself sometimes forgets his own difficulty.
As he wrote, “Life had sixteen thousand different ways of being unsatisfying, independent of whether you heard it or not.”
His stay in Africa gives him a chance to be simply a person, without the label of “deaf.”
Although the narrative unfolds briskly, trip-ups occur at times with Swiller’s storytelling. Swiller sometimes descends into cliches when describing the African scenery around him, and he often writes vague, generic descriptions like his account of bats being “dark gray blobs.”
Setting aside style though, “The Unheard” is an experience, rather than just a piece of reading, and it proves both informing and moving.
– Laura Picklesimer
E-mail Picklesimer at lpicklesimer@media.ucla.edu.