ONCE UPON A DREAM
In the spring of 1967, I competed with a number of students from different universities in an examination given by the French Government. The main prize at stake was a round-trip ticket to
Paris plus a year fully-paid scholarship grant at the University de Lille. Although I was not officially endorsed to represent my school, I boldly made a go at it on my own personal initiative because it was my only and unique chance to make my dream come true, i.e. to go overseas without incurring a major financial undertaking. Alas, my initial hope crumbled when I did not make it through the last question of the oral examination. In retrospection, however, I could have passed it by default have I’d known in advance that the origin of the author in the question was not French but Swiss! Worse yet, that summer I experienced the most frustrating setback in my life that plunged me deeper into despair and desolation because I was so confident that I already had the post at the Foreign Office after I passed successfully all the required entrance examinations, complete with the necessary experience and the appropriate civil service qualification. What a fool I was to have believed instantly how such once-in-a-lifetime opportunity could too good to be true. On the day I thought I would be signing for my employment contract, I was practically bypassed by a young graduate who was already sitting behind the desk I was supposed to occupy while she was accompanied personally and recommended directly by an influential family acquaintance employed internally who was still talking intimately with the head of the department as I was waiting my turn. How such a thing could ever happen to me at such a most crucial moment when I was desperately counting on it as if my whole future depended on it entirely? I was so sure and optimistic of obtaining the post that I even had to sacrifice a very promising and stable position in an international organization with the hope of working for my own government. In the end, I just felt very badly humiliated and totally betrayed by such a flagrant and vicious practice that I completely lost whatever trust I had in the political system. What else were my options and raison d’être of staying behind and fighting against injustice and corruption when I already knew from the start that I was only waging a losing battle? Feeling too helpless and forlorn to see my only opportunity to serve my own country being practically shattered and disintegrated right under my nose, I firmly decided right there and then to leave the country for good. In my state of rage and frustration, however, the thought of losing my temper by attacking the authorities would not only prove to be quixotic and suicidal but also futile and ephemeral. Finally, I chose to remain alive and be a coward than dead and be a martyr or an unsung hero only to be forgotten overnight. Moreover, such a radical reaction would very likely be tantamount to sedition or treason against the internal security which could highly compromise my precarious situation and consequently jeopardize my immediate plan. Worse yet, the prevalent political atmosphere had become so intolerable that I could no longer bear to stay any much longer or else I would only go bananas completely. I just then became so obsessed while nurturing my rather impossible dream to come true that nothing could ever stop me anymore. On the other hand, to think of leaving precipitously in such an erratic state of mind with only few pennies in my pocket would be highly too farfetched and impossible to materialize immediately. Hopefully, before I could do something foolish I would regret dearly for the rest of my life and that would eventually screw up my plan, I went to light candles in every church I passed by and prayed hard for a miracle to happen...
Unexpectedly that fall just a few days before my birthday, I received a wire from the French Embassy requesting me to present myself again for an oral examination and interview by the newly-appointed cultural attaché. All of a sudden, I saw a ray of hope. Although I knew I had a rather slim chance of winning the scholarship this time, I just couldn’t cry victory until the result was official, because I was too scared to go through the same experience I have had at the Foreign Office, once again. Moreover, there were two other candidates from more prestigious and exclusive private schools than mine who were also vying for it. Somehow, I felt some guilt of self-apprehension for not being an honor student or an alumnus from the big league universities, yet I was too proud to be the only one from my school to have qualified in the finals. What a mixed blessing of laughter and tears when the scholarship was officially awarded to me a week later. My office colleagues were so overwhelmed to see me jumped with joy by the telephone as I broke them the good news and they congratulated me, even those who detested and envied me for speaking French. It came to me as a total surprise that I could hardly believe I finally made it. For a fraction of a second, I went blank and couldn’t utter a word as if I was practically hit by a lightning. My mind traveled at a supersonic speed into a kaleidoscopic jumble of images of colorful postcard views of the Seine, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacré-Coeur, Latin Quarter, and all the sights that I read and saw in the books and magazines. As I gradually regained consciousness, I hazily imagined having distinguished the word « Paris » appearing on tilt like in a slot machine for a dream that was still to be realized. It was the craziest moment of my life yet the most memorable, because all my hardships and sacrifices were duly recognized and finally rewarded -- by a foreign government! As a result of this stroke of luck, my whole life took a 180 degree turn and was changed completely, like the story of Cinderella with France as my prince-charming somehow!
