[MUSIC PLAYING]
KELLY REILLY: Thank you
so much for joining us.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Thank you.
KELLY REILLY: Yeah.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA:
Hello, everyone.
How are you?
I don't bite.
You could move a little
bit closer if you want,
so I could see you.
KELLY REILLY: Yeah.
So Clemantine was just six
when the mass killing of 1994
broke out in Rwanda.
And she spent-- she
tells her wonderful story
in the book "The Girl
Who Smiled Beads"
of moving from country
to country in Africa,
and eventually to the
United States, to Yale,
to tell here story.
So we're going to tell
a little bit about that.
We're going to go into the
narrative of "The Girl Who
Smiled Beads" and talk
a little bit about what
it means for us, for identity,
for building community,
for forging connections.
So with that, we'll kick off.
So your life has been so dynamic
and full of accomplishments.
So this might be one of the
least interesting things
about you, but you
were a Googler.
I think the audience would
love to know about that.
Can you tell us a bit
about your time at Google?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yes.
Well, first of all,
I want to say thank
you so much for having me.
It's such a pleasure.
And Kelly has gone above
and beyond to get me here,
to get the bookstore.
So thank you so much for
having me and connecting--
reconnecting me back
to the community.
And all of you, thank you
so much for taking the train
and being here, taking some
time from the office to be here.
So I really appreciate it.
And for everybody who's
viewing live, hello.
Thank you for pausing and
to come and to listen.
So my tour this fall
is Listening Tour.
And so I'm doing a lot of
listening, as well as sharing
about "The Girl
Who Smiled Beads."
And it's so wonderful
to come back
to Google not to come to
hang out with my friend
and eat the food here, because
that's what I usually do,
but to come and share the book.
I interned with Google Bold
in 2010 in San Francisco.
And one of my mentors,
mentee as well,
Theresa, invited me
to the community.
And I had so much fun.
I connected with people
from all over the world.
As you know, Google Bold
is super diverse, and not
only in different places
where you come from,
but also just perspective.
And I fell in love
with San Francisco.
But with Google, I was
like, oh, well, maybe I
could go to South Africa
and do the same thing that I
was doing here at Google.
And I was with Dot Org
and marketing team.
And I was telling Kelly earlier
that I spent so much time
on the internet
trying to get so many
non-profits and small
businesses on a Google map.
So if you are a
non-profit and you
were on a Google Map
between 2010 and '11,
I'm that girl who made
sure that you were there.
And yeah.
But even that, so I've been
with the Content Creator Summit
for the past four years.
And I've been traveling
back and forth
and meeting all these
incredible content
creators with YouTube in London,
and in LA, and here in New York
as well.
KELLY REILLY: Very much
part of the community,
a part of the family.
So onto the book.
The first episodes of
your life in Rwanda
are one of a totally
idyllic childhood.
Can you paint a picture
for the audience
of what your childhood
was like maybe
through images of
your mother's garden
or through the stories
your nanny would tell you?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yes.
How many of you have had
a chance to read the book?
All right.
This is good.
So half of you.
So I had a childhood that
I would wish for anybody.
And I have--
I grew up in nine
different countries,
and I have traveled to about
20 something countries.
And the childhood that I had,
I wished it for my friends,
for my family, for anyone.
And that means where you
feel accepted by everybody.
And those who don't accept
you, at least for me,
I didn't know what that was
like, except one instance
that I had.
But a really great
example that I will
give you growing up in Kigali--
actually, two examples.
One, our home, my
mother, I think maybe
after she married
my dad, she had
this idea of creating
the Garden of Eden
right in front of our house.
And so if you had to
come to our house,
my mom would have asked
you where you're from,
and you would say,
I'm from this place.
And then after
that, she was like,
so what flower is the
flower from your state
or your country?
What fruit?
And my mom would engineer--
would ask you to bring the
seed, or she'll find it,
and then would engineer
the flower or the plant,
whatever it is.
And so when you
come back next time,
you find the plant
of your country
or your state in our garden.
So I grew up with all
these different flowers
from all over the world, all
these different fruits, all
these different vegetables,
because my mother had this goal
of creating the Garden of Eden.
She just didn't like the story
ending where Adam and Eve have
to walk out of the garden.
She was like, nope,
we're not doing that.
So that's my mother.
And I always feel like
she's a soil whisperer.
And she just is able
to grow anything.
And I spent some time
with her sending me.
Go get this.
Go do this.
Go do that.
And so I grew up really
understanding the world
through flowers and
the world through all
these different plants.
And another one, we had
this very young bride, maybe
she was 20 or 21.
And she wanted to have children.
But for some reason, not yet,
because she was 20 something.
But I remember on
weekends she would cook.
I mean, she would
wake up and cook.
And she would have
all kinds of treats--
I'm not sure if you know
bhajia and beignet--
and make lots of
like biryani rice,
because she was half
Rwandan, half Indian.
And so she would make all
this biryani with rice,
with vegetables.
And she would make samosa.
And then she would just
take this giant plate
and she would just bang it.
And all of us, I mean,
maybe like 20, 25 kids,
would all go and
just line up and eat.
And she'd play music for us.
And so that is the
childhood that I had.
And I thought that
everyone, you know, everyone
in my neighborhood,
that's how they lived,
except this one person,
who I went to their house.
And they were having lunch.
And they didn't feed me.
And my mom had told me
never to go there for lunch.
And I remember coming back.
And I was so sad.
And I was crying.
And my mom was like, I
told you never to go there
for lunch or dinner.
And I'm like, what is
it that she has done?
It was like--
[SPEAKING KINYARWANDA]
in Kinyarwanda means to separate
yourself from the creator.
That means to not share.
And so I grew up in a place
where sharing and connecting,
not only with your
neighbors, your friends.
From the minute that I was
aware that I was conscious
and I was human,
that was the way.
That was my childhood.
KELLY REILLY: But things
changed for you very early on.
You have that beautiful
story about your childhood,
and then war broke out.
You were forced from your
home with your older sister,
just the two of you,
out in the world.
You lived in several refugee
camps in Burundi, Tanzania,
Malawi.
What was the day to day
reality like for you
in those situations?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Well, it's
taken me about 20 something
years to be able
to get to a place
where, first, I could
talk about it, and then,
second, I could be able
to rationalize about it.
And this is why I wrote
"The Girl Who Smiled Beads."
I wrote "The Girl
Who Smiled Beads,"
because I thought in all
the places and everything
that happened to us, I was just
an observer taking it all in.
And now sitting here with you
and in front of all of you,
I'm realizing that's
actually, in fact, true.
So some of you may know what
happened in Rwanda in 1994,
where millions of
people were murdered.
And millions others were
displaced all over the world.
And it's because we believed in
a story and in the propaganda
that this person is less than.
That's why we got into
a place where neighbors
turned against each other.
Neighbors killed
their neighbors.
Friends killed their friends.
But also, there are those people
who decided not to do that.
And all of it, as a
result from deep lack
of abundance in being human.
At least that's how I say it.
And it's something as a child,
of course, I didn't understand.
I couldn't even comprehend.
Even as an adult,
I don't understand
how a husband could kill
a wife and the children
because someone said that
they're Tutsi, or an ideology,
of course, in the practice.
But learning about
it through books
later on as a college
student and a little bit
as a high school student,
I couldn't understand it.
So I started
studying more of what
has happened in different parts
of Europe, the Holocaust, what
has happened in Cambodia,
what has happened
in different parts of South
America, what's even happened
here.
Today is the Indigenous
Peoples' Day,
and thinking about that
that's not far away.
We are not far away
from that in itself.
So what happened here in
America also happened in Rwanda,
but what happened
in Rwanda was 1994.
And my older sister
and I were a few
of the people who
were able to escape
at the beginning
of the conflict.
And my sister Claire
was 15 at the time.
I was six.
And for the next six years and
a half, we went from a country
to another seeking refuge.
And what is the day to day
of a person seeking a refuge?
I've written all about it.
I've gotten closer
to paint words,
and to be able to make you feel.
And not just only to
help you intellectualize
who did it when and where.
To be a person who's
seeking a refuge,
you do not have
a piece of paper.
In fact, when I go to a
bar or a club sometimes
and they ask me for my ID,
it's such a huge trigger.
I'm like, [GASPING],,
do I have an ID?
Because my whole life was that.
We had to go from one
country to another.
And if you don't have
an identification card,
then you were sent
to jail, or you
were put in a prison,
which is a jail or a prison
or a refugee camp, which
is equivalent of prison.
And life in-- you walk.
You wake up.
You walk.
And you sleep outside.
And you feel-- at least
for me as a child,
I felt very ashamed that
there were all these homes,
and we were not allowed
to be in it or near it.
And now as an adult, I still
feel that sense of how in which
we separate ourselves, that
some people have homes.
Some people have papers.
And some people
don't have papers.
And in a refugee camp--
oh, my goodness-- I cannot
wait for people to come forward
and share and add to "The
Girl Who Smiled Beads"
and tell you what
the life is like.
It's not a life that
I wish for anybody.
And of course, seeking
refuge in the United States,
we came in 2000.
Claire and I came in 2000 after
living in all those countries.
And we came with the
Organization International
Migration, which resettles
people who were seeking refuge
all over the world.
And it was a moment to be
able to pause, definitely.
And so I hope that I have
answered your question.
I was kind of trying to cover
all ground for everybody.
KELLY REILLY: You certainly did.
Well, it's so
remarkable how you've
turned such a powerful
and unfair situation
into a platform that so
hope-inducing for all of us.
It's super inspirational.
But you mentioned
themes of self-identity.
And that's super relevant to
this group, because for Women
in America's platforms,
we talk a lot
about both self-identity
and forging connections.
So on the topic
of self-identity,
I wanted to ask you
about your experience
that you write about in
"The Girl Who Smiled Beads."
You and Claire are
constantly trying
to forge your own self-identity
despite these really
challenging circumstances.
And two scenes that struck
me as particularly visceral
evocations of that
were when you were
first in a refugee camp,
six or seven years old,
and you were writing
your name in the sand,
saying it to anybody
who would listen,
constantly reminding
yourself that you
were an individual with a name.
And the second scene was
when you were in Illinois
and had to apply for
your identification
and choose what name
to put on there.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY: What
can you tell us
about how your relationship
with your self-identity
has changed over your journey?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Well,
it's been an incredible work.
It's not easy.
Each one of us in this
room, I'm sure there
was a point where
we've had to pause
to be able to say, who am I?
Where am I?
The person or the color,
or whatever it is,
the label to be able to
be you, you don't fit in.
You don't-- it's a box.
You want to come out.
And so each one of
us has different ways
to be able to really go deep
into ourselves into our soul.
For me, I feel like
every year varies.
And I probably could
just talk about recently.
I think recently, maybe
about two years ago,
I went out on a tour.
I made up this tour for
myself, and went around,
and started talking
to students about,
we're going beyond labels.
And the students had to
fill out all the labels
that they feel like
they fit in, but all the
labels that they don't
want to fit in anymore.
And so it was all
the labels based
on like your gender, your
sexuality, your race,
your class.
And so all the students
were teaching me.
I thought that I
was teaching them.
They were actually teaching
me how to be within myself.
And so with Rwanda, through,
of course, colonialism, first,
it was the Germans, and
then after, it was Belgians.
And all the German experiments
through like your skull,
your da-da-da, your this, your
this, your this, and therefore
you fall into an
Aryan-looking person, which
means your Caucasian features.
And so growing up
with that, like later
on starting to learn about it.
Actually, I started learning
about it in the camp,
in the first camp.
And I didn't understand it.
It was something
about your wrists
and something about
your legs and something
about your nose and
something about your hair.
And I was just so confused.
I didn't get it.
And as I become an adult,
I'm seeing these kind
of ways of being in America.
And I'm seeing it
in South America.
And I'm seeing in Europe.
And I'm like, what
is going on here?
Because when you are a
child, you're just a baby.
You just are beautiful.
And so the practice
for me in terms
of understanding my identity
has been really getting deep
into my senses.
So if you ever come
to any of my parties,
they're like a
five-sense experience.
Try to go to the
sixth sense, which
means your really deep soul.
And so from smell to touch
to sight to all the things
that are making me here now.
And so to really understand that
with myself and that as myself,
there's such a short
period that I'm on this--
when I can still breathe,
and when I can still hear,
and when I can still see.
And I'm going to take
advantage of that,
and be able to remind my friends
and my family like how awesome
that is.
And that is my identity.
My identity that I'm
connected to every creature
and every person and
everything around me.
But it's not easy.
And that's why you forge your
identity beyond your skin
color.
And to be able to--
skin color itself is
really important--
but to know that
all under it's just
this gooiness of muscles
and bones and stuff.
Sometimes it's creepy
when you think about it.
You're like, oh, there it is,
just a skeleton walking around.
So I hope that I've
answered the question.
And I'm still trying
to figure it out.
But through many authors and
many musicians or artists,
I'm still trying to
learn how to be me
in this world, [INAUDIBLE]
that I am not present.
KELLY REILLY: There is a
beautiful feedback loop
with something that we talk
about a lot in the employee
resources groups, which is
imposter syndrome or a sense
of not belonging.
You write about this
a little in your book,
because you landed at
an elite boarding school
in Yale, where you had
to adjust to people's
expectations of you.
You were very enthused by what
you were learning, but also
challenged to find a way to
fit in, or whether to fit in.
What can you tell
us for those of us
who struggle with
imposter syndrome
or a sense of belonging?
How did you get through to
thriving in those situations?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA:
So one, I always
said as a child, that
was forced on me.
And so Claire telling
me, all right, we
are going to learn Swahili now.
So we have about a month.
Go.
And having to learn Swahili,
having to learn Nyanja,
having to learn Zulu, having
to learn Portuguese so that we
don't get thrown in jail.
So that is a high stake.
And the millions of people
right now all over the world who
are seeking refuge are going
through that as I'm speaking,
so that they can try to fit in.
Different outfits.
Cut your hair.
You braid your hair.
You do all these
different things
to just get the
body to be accepted.
I would say that the
first thing as people
who have food, shelter, friends,
family, at least on Maslow's
hierarchy, if you have the
basics, to be able to realize
how others trying to make you
feel like you don't belong,
it's an illusion.
It's absolutely an illusion.
It's not real.
It's fake.
It's all fake,
because when you are
stuck in only that place of
fear that you don't belong,
you miss the whole
grand of your being
and of other people's being.
That's what I've realized.
And two, all of us come from
this place called a womb.
Until, of course, there's
going to be AI walking around
very soon.
We need to get our, literally,
shit together as a human,
because if we cannot get
our act together as human,
how are we expecting to be with
this new beings that are going
to be entering our daily lives?
Well, my phone now, like I
always say, where does it go?
Where did it go?
Like that is taking all
my data every single day.
That could be a part of my
conscious in the future.
And so therefore
for our generation,
we have an opportunity
in our generation
to be able to pass through
all these different molds.
And so within that, I ask you
to really read Audre Lorde.
Audre Lorde is phenomenal.
Everything by Audre Lorde.
But "Sister Outsider,"
it's incredible.
Octavia Butler.
All of Octavia Butler's books.
Buy all of them,
and sit, and listen.
Sometimes listen to it.
And just understand the way
in which she was programming
our moment.
And I also say sometimes
James Baldwin also adds
so much into our senses and
being present as a human,
but also as the people who
want to be liberated out
of this thing that we so
truly believe it's only us.
And then also I will
close out by saying this
with this question of belonging.
You belong here as
much as I belong here.
I belong here as much
as you belong here.
I'm not better than you, and
you're not better than me.
And when you wake
up every morning--
at least, I could
speak for myself--
when I wake up every morning,
that's my meditation.
And going beyond that,
it's also all the animals,
and everything that is
around us also belongs here.
It sounds very hippy, but I hope
that our generation will become
the biggest hippies the world
can possibly accommodate,
because we are able to
communicate with our phones
across channels.
People right now are
viewing from I don't know.
Who knows where?
That was not the
case 10 years ago.
We need to take advantage
of all the resources
to be able to be in ourselves
and belong within ourselves
so that we could allow others to
feel that they belong as well.
So it's a practice.
KELLY REILLY: Yeah.
Do you guys feel up
for the challenge
of being the world's
biggest hippies?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY:
They're ready for it.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: I
got a few heads out there.
KELLY REILLY: There's a topic
I'm dying to ask you about,
which is about storytelling
and connections.
One of the central tenets of
Women at America's platforms
is building connections
across diverse sets of people.
And you did such a
beautiful job in this book
of making a very deliberate
choice that you were never
elevated to superhero
or mythological figure.
You are a very real person going
through these very difficult
circumstances.
You're always emphasizing
your humanity.
And I think that's so powerful.
What can you tell us about
storytelling and its power
to draw connections
between people?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA:
Oh, my goodness.
Storytelling.
We are stories.
We are storytellers by
everything we create.
What we are is what we create.
What we create is who we are.
Sometimes we think you
are different from it,
but we're not.
Well, speaking for
myself, I should say,
I grew up with this
amazing caregiver.
Her name was Mukamana.
Mukamana, probably, she came to
live with us maybe right when
I was just born.
And she sang to me probably
when I was a baby a lot,
but then as an adult, as like--
not an adult, as just a little,
when I started
taking in the world.
I remember my first time.
I literally remember my
first time noticing the sun.
I walked outside, and I remember
looking at it just like I'm
looking at this light,
and then burning, and just
my eyes burning.
And I walked in.
And I was screaming.
And I was like, what is that?
What is that?
And she's like, it's the sun.
And I remember her walking me
through how the sun came up
to the sky.
And so from the minute that
I could remember myself,
Mukamana was taking everything,
at least in terms of elements,
and teaching me how
they're all part of us,
and how they also have
these different characters.
And so I wake up.
I'm like, how is the sun today?
And how is the moon?
And how are the stars?
And how is the water?
And how is this?
Everything moved,
and everything shook.
And her stories, Mukamana's
stories had no end.
Of course, "The Girl Who
Smiled Beads," I ended it.
But I didn't like the end.
So I keep ending.
I kept adding on.
I kept adding on.
Her stories, they were
not like, a long time ago.
It was just like, just not so
far from here, there was this,
and there's that,
and that, and that.
And what do you
think happened next?
And so storytelling
to me has always
been a way to be able to add
on and make sense of the world,
or make sense of people.
And if you did not, in
my family, till today,
if you did not know how
to add on to my story
that I had just started, we were
not going to be communicating.
And so now I use
that also as well.
It's like, if we meet each
other, and I said hello to you,
and I say, how are you?
Or are you working on something?
You're telling your own story.
If you are not
willing to add onto me
and you are not willing
for me to add onto you,
we're not going to be friends.
It's just not going to happen,
because then who am I to you?
And who am I to me?
And so I believe the
art of storytelling
is in our everyday relationship.
It's our connection
point as a human.
I forgot.
It's Chinua Achebe
that said that, humans
are the only creatures that
are connected through stories.
There's something like that.
I'll put it on
Instagram later on.
You can find it the right way.
But when I heard
that, it was like,
humans are the ones who can
pass on through stories.
I mean, from like
Greek mythology
to even different
parts of Africa.
We have our own mythology
on how the world became.
And those stories are
about to come forward.
You know why?
Because through many African,
and also many indigenous
stories, the world doesn't end.
The world continues.
And at least from
different parts of Africa,
the stories are coming
from a place of abundance.
It's a full circle, and
honoring every heart beat.
And so I'm excited for that.
I'm excited for
stories to connect us.
I'm excited for
story to connect us
as women, as a connection point
to be able to be creators,
to create babies, and
babies can be books,
and babies can be art pieces.
Babies could be normal
humans walking around.
And I'm excited
for men and women
to be able to come
together, because that's
the join of creation.
That's the point
that I'm excited
for our generation,
generation to come,
for us to add onto each
other, and to connect
from a place of abundance.
KELLY REILLY: And
you're building
a platform for that to happen.
You're always connecting people.
I've heard you call
yourself a Dot Connector.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY: I
love that phrase.
And building connections goes
beyond just the book, right?
You've traveled the
world as an advocate.
You've done TED Talks.
What can you share
with us that you've
learned about building
connections between very
diverse sets of people?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Well,
I would say that all of us
are connectors.
All of us are dot
connectors, whichever part.
And when I mean dot
connector, I actually
mean like a heart
beat connecting
to another heartbeat.
KELLY REILLY: Oh,
that's beautiful.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA:
Yeah, because we all are--
we're all the minute that
your heart is beating.
The first thing that they check
with the baby is your heart.
And in anything,
any breathing thing.
And so being able
to connect to that.
But also like a recent example,
my friend Owen is over there.
Owen and I met maybe three years
ago as one of my connections
three years ago in London.
And I was walking with
one of my friends,
who was like, oh, I'm going
to take you to this shop.
It was like chocolate.
It was Dark Sugar.
If you're ever in
London, Dark Sugar.
And then I just hear
a tap, and a tap.
And I just turn around.
And he's like, open your mouth.
I'm like, open my what?
You're just a strange man
in the road just telling
me to open my mouth.
And he's like, open your mouth.
And I'm like, no!
And then he's like,
oh, my goodness,
why don't you trust me?
I just want to
feed you chocolate.
And he had chocolate
in his hand.
KELLY REILLY: That's so sweet.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA:
And so I was just
like, oh, my goodness, OK.
I'll take the chocolate.
And I went to the
chocolate shop.
It was just right
at a chocolate shop.
And I went in.
And then we talked.
We kind of like played around.
There was music playing.
And then I walked away.
And then two years
later, I see someone.
I'm in this Nomadic
Garden, the Nomadic
Garden in Shoreditch in London.
And we're all gathered.
It was like all these different
beautiful people from like--
one of our friends
was from the Bronx.
The other people
were from Ireland.
Some people were
from who knows where.
It was just a bunch of
African, African diaspora, all
of us hanging out at
this Nomadic Garden,
and like Middle
Eastern, Russians.
We're all just hanging out.
And the next thing you
know, I see this person.
And I'm like, I've
seen him somewhere.
And I couldn't connect.
And he was like, guys,
we're going, going, going.
And actually, my friend
Nima in just walked also.
So she was-- I had lost her,
and I couldn't find her.
The next thing you
know, it's like 15 of us
just like following this--
following Owen.
And Owen was just dragging us.
Oh, we're going to get burritos.
We're going to get some food.
And then after that, I
wanted to go get chocolate.
And then when we
got there, they were
like, you guys help us move this
thing for the event tonight.
So we're all helping
moving things.
And the next thing you know,
he's leading us into the bus.
And we were together until
like 3:00 AM, like 20 people
all from the Nomadic Garden.
None of us had ever met.
And when we met, we
were all like just
taking care of each other.
It was this connection
that I am just getting
goosebumps thinking about it.
I mean, that night we
went to hear some jazz.
And this jazz, it was
almost like it just
flew from New Orleans
to having this top jazz.
And we heard this music,
it was like Afro-punk,
like from this Nigerian artist.
Name again?
AUDIENCE: DemiGosh.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: DemiGosh.
DemiGosh is Irish-Nigerian.
And he's singing like this
really intense hard rock,
but he's singing
like, oh, I love you.
Come back to me.
But it's like hard
rock, like metal.
And it's just so beautiful.
There was a point
where I just couldn't.
I was in so much joy
looking at this community,
mostly queer, mostly
African, and mostly European.
All of us in this like
basement together just dancing.
I fell on the floor in tears
and in a joy that nothing,
not even invisible lines that we
call borders could ever divide
our hearts and our breath.
And that's the true connection
that I'm talking about,
that I make just going on some
random tour that I've made up.
But now I have a book.
I don't have to say
that I'm random.
I could actually be
like, I have a book.
Will you let me in?
I'm just here to
connect that heart.
So as you see, these are
actually the symbols.
It's all into very like
the mythology of Rwanda
storytelling, where the colors
of white and black and red,
symbolizing all a
part of our human.
And so-- and also, I want to
say, as you read the book--
well, the book has--
this is Claire's Odyssey.
Claire's crazy journey.
She was like, let's just go.
Let's go explore Africa.
That's the story
that I told myself,
but actually it was more
of wars and nonsense.
And so this is Claire's Odyssey.
And I cannot wait for her
to tell her story forward.
And then of course in every
chapter you have a timeline.
And the timeline
is our timeline,
but it is also your timeline.
And so when you get to chapter
3 or 4 and you're like,
I can't do it anymore, just take
your notepad, and just pause,
and think about 2004.
Maybe 2004 was awesome.
Maybe it wasn't.
Just get in there, and
just remember 2004.
Remember you
remember the people.
And so that's also still
connecting the dots.
The dots connecting
not only your timeline,
but your heartbeat and
everyone around you.
KELLY REILLY: Amazing.
Good.
That's so nice, right?
[APPLAUSE]
And that connects so
nicely into something else
I wanted to ask
you about, which is
that I understand that
this story was originally
pitched as a fairy tale.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY: It could not be
more different from the story
that was written, but
thematically really similar.
So can you tell us
about that impulse
to make this a fairy tale?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yes.
So right after I came
back from Rwanda in 2004
and graduating
from college, I was
so hungry to connect to
the child in all of us,
because when I went back to
Rwanda, that's the one that I
felt was filled the most.
And it was not tinted
by any ideology.
And so just remembering
like little Clemantine
just going to everybody.
I was like, what's your name?
What are you?
Who are you?
What you could-- I just wanted
to remember like the four-
or five-, six-year-old
Clemantine before the world
showed me the
other side of life.
I wanted to write about
the girl who smiled beads,
and how the girl
who smiled beads
reminded me of me beyond labels.
And I had the
manuscript written down
actually from like 2013
when I went to South Africa
to the Oprah Winfrey School.
And I saw this doll.
It was beaded from head to toe.
And all these beautiful beads,
these beautiful African beads.
Actually, also Indian beads.
And I saw it.
And I was just like,
oh, my goodness.
I remember it.
I remember it.
It's the girl who smiled beads.
That's the story.
That's the fairy tale.
That's my backstory.
That's my background story.
That's the story that
I've always lived.
That's why I have
all these buttons.
That's why I have
all these beads.
I had a bucket of beads like
under my bed in college.
And so I started illustrating
this whole scene of the--
it was 12 scenes of
the girl smiling beads.
And the girl who smiled
beads is of this woman
who had everything you
could possibly dream of.
But there was one thing
that she did not have,
she did not have a life.
And one day she cried
louder than a thunder.
And her tears flooded
the whole city.
And the thunder and the rain had
to stop and come down and ask
her, why are you crying?
You have everything you
could possibly ever dream of.
And she said, yes, I do.
But I don't have a life.
And so the thunder and
the rain walked away.
And then they came
back, and said,
well, we are going
to give you life,
but this life is going to
come with a lot of surprises.
And so a few months later, she
felt a life in her stomach.
And the next thing you know
she had this beautiful baby
that grew up to be
this beautiful girl.
But when the girl started
smiling, she noticed something.
There were all these
different gems everywhere.
Every day, every day,
every day, the whole house
was filled with gems.
And so the mother
started building a wall
to be able to protect
her, but also to be
able to not tell her neighbors
like, yes, I have this child.
And this child, when she smiles,
gems just appear everywhere.
But the girl was able to--
and also of course,
it sounds really crazy
right now that I'm telling
the story like this.
I was five and six when
I made this story up.
So bear with me.
One day it's going to
be a children's book.
So you will have more
characters into it.
And so that's the
story that I pitched.
But the girl goes from
one place to another.
And when she gets there,
people look at her.
And they look at
her, and they say,
we've never seen you before.
What's your name?
Who are you?
And before she could say
her name, she smiles.
Just beads appear everywhere.
And people collect.
And they didn't see her.
So in Rwanda, there's
a lot of hills.
So she goes from
one hill to another.
And her mother could
follow the trails
of beads she left behind.
And so I pitched
this story to be
able to talk about
how this story helped
me remember me beyond labels.
And I pitched it with like
a bunch of other newspapers.
And they were not so into it.
And then my agent, who was
able to say, you know what?
We would like the back
backstory before "The Girl
Who Smiled Beads."
And the story now
you have is this.
But it's about the story of
war and what comes after.
I'm excited of what comes after
now, because everybody gets
to add on to what the girl
who smiles beads does,
whatever you want her to be.
So that's the character
that I'm really
excited to evolve and to
bring into your homes.
And you can add on.
Your little nieces and
nephews could add on.
If you have children,
they could add on.
I actually want children
to add on more than adults.
But adults can add on as well.
AUDIENCE: [INAUDIBLE].
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY: Yeah.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
KELLY REILLY: We have
a few minutes left.
I want to either invite
you to do a reading,
or I can jump into
the next questions.
What would you prefer?
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Well, since
we have a little bit of time,
not a lot of time, I am
going to read an excerpt.
Maybe we'll have a little bit.
It's [INAUDIBLE].
This is when I knew
that was the spot.
When I got here, I was like,
oh, this is where it's at.
So this is chapter 14.
And to give you a little bit
of background in chapter 14,
this is how my mother
used to test us.
She would say, go get an orange.
And we'd bring in an orange.
And she would cut
out all the pieces,
and share with everybody.
And if you were
new at our house,
my mother would know if
you were a sharer or not.
If you didn't know how
to share, my mother then
would literally invite
you to the family,
and you would
learn how to share.
And you're going to live
learning how to share.
But it was her secret.
I find myself sometimes doing
that to people, especially
with food.
And some people don't like it.
I think back to
this often in trying
to make sense of the world;
how there are people who
have so much and people
who have so little,
and how I fit in with them both.
Often I find myself trying to
bridge the two worlds to show
people either the
people who have so much
or the people with so little
that everything's yours,
and everything is not yours.
I wish to invite
you to understand
that boxing ourselves into tiny
cubbies based on class, race,
ethnicity, religion,
anything really,
comes from a poverty of mind,
a poverty of imagination.
The world is dull and cruel
when we isolate ourselves.
Survival, the true survival
of the body and the soul,
and now I've added on in spirit,
requires creativity, freedom
of thoughts, and collaboration.
You might have time,
and I might have land.
You might have an idea,
and I might have strength.
You might have a tomato,
and I might have a knife.
We need each other.
We need to say, I honor the
things that you respect,
and I value the things
that you cherish.
I am not better than you.
You are not better than me.
Nobody is better
than anybody else.
Nobody is who you think
they are at first glance.
We need to see beyond the
projection, the categories we
cast into each other.
Each one of us is so grand,
more nuanced, more extraordinary
than anybody thinks,
including ourselves.
That's my favorite
passage, because it really
goes back to one [INAUDIBLE]
over there is reminding us
about the [INAUDIBLE]
presence, being
able to be so into
presence, and being
able to know that
we're all here together
in this beautiful
place called Earth.
And I am just so
incredibly honored
and grateful to be able to
share a piece of my life
with all of you, as well as
to encourage you for you also
to share some part of you
that all of us can learn from,
and to remember that your
story is just another story
connecting, just like
this beautiful bracelet,
or the necklaces, or
the beads come together.
And I know that I
sound very optimistic.
It's a practice, because you
can either be optimistic or not
be optimistic.
And with optimistic
comes practice.
And with practice comes work.
And work comes this full
circle of a community
of people who are willing
and hoping for all of us
to be together here.
And if we continue
channeling that ideology,
and if we continue
investing our time
and energy and our resources,
and maybe it's possible.
Because imagine all the
people who imagined us
here, who wrote
our characters here
to be in this room
with each other.
So I hope that we continue and
extend also the imagination
of us being here together.
Thank you so much.
KELLY REILLY: Please join me in
thanking Clemantine Wamariya.
Her book is for
sale in the back,
and also available
on Google Play.
Thank you so much
again for joining us.
And thank you.
CLEMANTINE WAMARIYA: Yeah.
It's on Google Play, guys.
I'm on Google Play.
I'm in the cloud!
Thank you.
