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 a flashback, however, I could have passed it by default had I only known in advance the nationality of Jean-Jacques Rousseau was not French, but Swiss!
Worse yet, that summer I experienced the most frustrating setback in my life that had plunged me deeper into despair and desolation but short of a major nervous breakdown. The underlying reason for which was that I was very confident that I though I already had the post I applied for at the Foreign Office exclusively for myself because I had passed all the required entrance examinations successfully, complete with the appropriate experience and the necessary civil service qualification. What an utterly fool I had made of myself to have believed so naively that such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity could only be too good to be true!
On the big day that I thought I would be signing the employment contract and assume my post officially, I nearly passed out from seeing the event turned suddenly into a nightmare as I witnessed helplessly in confusion how I was being practically bypassed by a young and unexperienced newly graduate who was already occupying the desk that was supposed to be intended for me while she was being personally escorted and recommended by an influential family acquaintance employed internally who was seemingly in a very intimate conversation with the head of the department at the moment as I waited for my turn. As a consolation, I only got the same old refrain "don't call us, we'll call you once a suitable post would be available in due course!" How on the earth could such a thing ever happen to me at the most crucial moment that I was so desperately counting on as if my whole future only depended on it? What an ironic twist of destiny that I even had to sacrifice and resign from a very promising and stable position in an international organization the month before so that I could serve my own country!
In the aftermath of all this chain of unlucky incidents, I just felt so 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 vulnerable and forlorn to see that my only opportunity to serve my own government being practically shattered and disintegrated right in front of my eyes, 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 blindly the authorities would not only prove to be a quixotic and suicidal initiative but also a totally useless and ephemeral cause to die for.
Finally, I chose to remain alive and be a coward than to be dead and become a martyr or an unsung hero who would only to be forgotten before he could be completely buried six feet under the ground. Moreover, such a radical reaction would very likely be tantamount to be sentenced to imprisonment without a fair trial for sedition or treason against the internal security of the state which could subsequently compromise my precarious situation and jeopardize my plan of carrying out my immediate departure.
Meanwhile, the prevailing political atmosphere had become so intolerable that I could hardly bear to stay any much longer or else I would go banana. Like an injured animal that was trapped in an ambush, I just then became so obsessed and jealous to keep my only fondest dream alive within me no matter how impossible it could be or how long it would take me but I'd do my best to make it come true at any costs in the end. On the other hand, to think of leaving on a spur of the moment in such an erratic state of mind with a few pennies in my pocket would be highly too farfetched and most unlikely to materialize on a very short notice. Hopefully before I could do something foolish which would make me regret dearly for the rest of my life, I lighted candles in every church that I passed by on my way 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, I was competing with two other candidates who came from more prestigious and exclusive schools. Deep inside me, I was somehow ravaged by a sense of guilt of self-apprehension for not having been an outstanding student or an alumnus of a big league university. Yet I could be 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 the landmarks I only saw on postcards, like the Seine, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacré-Coeur, Latin Quarter, and all the other 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 very soon!
In fact, 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 lucky stroke of fate, my whole life radically took a 180-degree turn and it was changed overnight completely!
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