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Abraham VergheseA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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When Marion and Shiva are born as conjoined twins, they are literally connected at the tops of their heads. After their physical separation, they are still constantly together, so much so that those around them think of them as one person. Marion calls that person ShivaMarion, and for the first years of their lives, Shiva does not speak, because Marion speaks for both of them: “I became the first to breathe—senior by a few seconds. I also became spokesperson for ShivaMarion” (229). ShivaMarion is seen as a single entity, both by their family and out in public. At the Merkato, for instance, they are a spectacle, “as if ShivaMarion was a lion in the cages at Sidist Kilo” (230). Everything that they own is part of a matched pair. They walk with their arms around each other, stepping in sync, and “seated, we shared a chair, seeing no sense in occupying two” (230). They act and are treated as one entity.
Slowly, however, Marion and Shiva begin to separate as they develop their own interests. Shiva pulls away first when he becomes interested in dance, and Marion sees him as a traitor. This distance is increased when Shiva tries to protect Koochooloo’s puppies as Marion looks on. Marion feels this happening, saying, “[I]n the days after the death of the pups, I felt our identities slowly separating” (250). Their slow separation is punctuated by moments of closeness, like when they run together to bring a child to the hospital. Marion revels in these moments: “I remember thinking, in the midst of that panic, how much I missed that state, and how exhilarating it was to be ShivaMarion” (276). In addition, although they are apart during the day, they always sleep together, which Marion finds comforting: “[M]y greatest relief that night came when my head touched Shiva’s, a sense of safety and completion, a home at the end of the world. Thank God that whatever happened we’d always have ShivaMarion to fall back on, I thought” (301). However, as Marion and Shiva get older, their separation continues slowly. In this way, ShivaMarion embodies childhood, and their separation represents the loss of innocence that comes with growing up.
This loss of innocence gains a literal representation when Shiva and Genet have sex, losing their virginity to each other. Marion sees Shiva’s actions as a betrayal, and their relationship is shattered. He is heartbroken over his love for Genet, as well as Shiva’s unthinking, hurtful actions. Their gradual separation becomes a deep rift, and Marion moves into Ghosh’s quarters, forcing a physical separation with Shiva for the first time. Marion is angry, and the brothers do not repair their rift before Marion is forced to leave the country. Despite being practically estranged, Shiva gives Marion his two prized possessions: Gray’s Anatomy and Thomas Stone’s book, with a bookmark from their mother. While this gift is Shiva’s only attempt at reconnecting with Marion, the gesture symbolizes their enduring connection as twins. They have grown apart, but they are still one at heart.
Once Marion is in America, their separation seems to be permanent. Marion speaks with Shiva just once, and they make plans for him to visit, but nothing ever comes of it. When Marion is diagnosed with hepatitis and his death seems impending, Shiva finally comes to New York with Hema. The physical distance between the twins disappears, and they are once again by each other’s sides. When Shiva arrives at the hospital, he curls up next to Marion in bed, just as they slept when they were children. This demonstrates the power of their connection; while they have been apart for decades, they can tap back into a childlike feeling of oneness. In a final act of reconciliation, Shiva donates a piece of his liver to save Marion. Here, their unity becomes physical, and the twins are corporeally connected once more, symbolizing a return to their original connection.
Just as childhood and innocence cannot be recaptured, this connection between Marion and Shiva is cut short when Shiva dies after the surgery. However, Marion realizes that because he has Shiva’s liver, Shiva lives on in his body. With this, their intrinsic connection takes on a new form. Marion understands that although they were apart, they were always ShivaMarion: “Shiva and I were one being—ShivaMarion. Even when an ocean separated us, even when we thought we were two, we were ShivaMarion'' (639). Moreover, he sees them as one entity, as they were originally meant to be: “One being at birth, rudely separated, we are one again” (640). When Marion sees Hema after Shiva’s death, he announces, “Here we are,” (641), presenting himself as both Marion and Shiva. At last, the twins are one again, forever ShivaMarion.
Marion was born and raised in Ethiopia, and it is his home. Yet, with Indian and English parents, he sometimes feels like a foreigner. Marion’s identity is complex, and this tension is at work throughout the novel. When he is young and living in Addis Ababa, he feels Ethiopian and loves his country passionately. However, after the coup, Marion’s home suddenly feels unsafe, especially for outsiders. Suddenly, because of his parents’ ethnicities, he is considered a foreigner in his own country. Their neighbor, Ali Osman, who runs the souk nearby, reflects this same unease, telling Marion that “times like this are when foreigners like us can suffer” (286). Marion is surprised by Ali’s comment: “It was strange to hear him use the word ferengi to describe himself, or me, because we were both born in this land” (286). Marion is too young to understand, but Ali understands that in times of upheaval, many people create artificial divisions and target those who seem different.
When Marion is forced to flee Ethiopia, he experiences this same sense of dislocation with the Eritrean freedom fighters. When Solomon, a fellow doctor who is treating the fighters, says, “This isn’t your fight. I’d go if I were in your shoes,” (456), it surprises Marion, as they’re both Ethiopian. At first, he does not understand, but after thinking it over, he concludes that “he saw me as an expatriate, someone without a stake in this war. Despite being born in the same compound as Genet, despite speaking Amharic like a native, and going to medical school with him, to Solomon I was a ferengi—a foreigner” (456). Although this hurts, Marion recognizes that there may be something to Solomon’s assumption, wondering if he should have joined a faction and sacrificed his life for his country. With this, Marion recognizes the complexity of his Ethiopian identity, and Verghese marks out the ways conflict and violence can dislocate one’s sense of identity and community.
When Marion meets Thomas at an Ethiopian restaurant in New York, he is immediately surrounded by the familiar sights and scents of home. Though their server is surprised by Marion’s fluent Amharic, she immediately accepts him. The exclusion he felt in his homeland is gone, representing the way cultural identity shifts depending on context; small differences often shrink away when immigrants find their countrymates in new lands. He feels like even more of an insider when contrasted with Thomas, whom she identifies as “that type of ferengi” (562). During the dinner, Thomas displays all the hallmarks of a foreigner, including not recognizing “Tizita” when it played on the radio. Marion takes advantage of his insider status, refraining from telling the server that Thomas is his father, and distancing himself from him. Marion even criticizes the food, which has been changed so that ferengi can enjoy it, to further prove himself as Ethiopian. Because of his criticism, the server tells Marion about the Queen of Sheba’s, an authentic Ethiopian restaurant in Boston, where he will eventually find Tsige, and truly reconnect with home.
When Marion arrives at Queen of Sheba’s, he feels at home once again. However, when Tsige recognizes him, Marion thinks it is because she has immediately identified him as an outsider. He wonders, “[D]id I look that out of place?” (580). He is upset by feeling like a foreigner, a feeling that has disappeared during his time in America but is revived the moment he steps into Ethiopian company again: “Within the confines of Our Lady of Perpetual Succor, all the tribes of Abraham were represented and I felt no more foreign than my patients or the staff. Now, as I attracted her attention, and that of the others there, I felt like a ferengi again” (580). Marion has not felt like an outsider in New York, but the moment he gets into an Ethiopian setting, he no longer feels like he fits in. When he finally returns to Ethiopia, intending just to visit, Marion stays and begins working at Missing Hospital, as his parents before him had done. At the end of the book, he is content and finally feels at home in Ethiopia.
Throughout the novel, each of the characters has their own faith, some combination of religion and medicine that guides them through their lives. Verghese steeps the narrative in religious reference and draws several parallels between medicine and religion. Both religion and medicine are seen as matters of faith, vocations that one pursues. From the beginning, medicine and religion are interwoven in the text, as Missing Hospital is a Christian mission hospital, run by Matron, a Carmelite nun with a broad and open-minded view of faith.
Matron runs Missing hospital pragmatically. Although she and Sister are both Carmelite nuns, her faith is quite different from Sister’s. Matron feels her calling is to “help,” and she places her faith in healing and alleviating suffering. Her decisions about Missing are made according to these precepts, saying that “God will judge us [...] by what we did to relieve the suffering of our fellow human beings. I don’t think God cares what doctrine we embrace” (187). When she says this, Eli Harris, representing the Baptist congregation in Texas, sees that “[f]rom her lips had come the kind of fundamental truth which, because of its simplicity, was unspoken in a church like Harris’s” (188).
Harris’s church is caught up in the more theoretical trappings of religion, concerned with saving Ethiopian souls rather than lives. This is represented by his church’s sending Bibles instead of food and money, and funding mission projects aimed at converting people to the Baptist faith. By contrast, Matron’s beliefs are grounded in a desire to help people, and so she uses the donations from Harris’s church to buy things the community actually needs. This in itself embodies Matron’s pragmatic faith, following the spirit of Christian doctrine—feeding the hungry and caring for the sick and poor—rather than the letter of the law.
Although Matron has very little patience for the kind of faith that Eli and his congregation represents, she is very respectful of the wide range of faith represented at Missing. She asks Gebrew, a priest in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, to officiate at Sister’s funeral, admiring the depth of his faith. Likewise, when Sister is dying, Matron holds her hand and repeats Sister’s prayers. She offers comfort by respecting and sharing in Sister’s faith. Other faiths are represented in Missing, including Hinduism; Hema names Shiva after one of the principal Hindu gods.
In this environment, Marion cultivates his own faith, also a combination of medicine and religion. Although he professes to believe only in medicine, his faith is more complicated than that. He is devoted to his mother’s memory, and beginning in childhood, he sits at her desk, her cardigan still draped over the chair as “a sacred object” (5). He gazes at the photo of the St. Teresa sculpture, and he cannot help but see a connection between St. Teresa and his mother. He draws comfort from the shrine of his mother’s desk throughout his life, and even explicitly asks her to help Ghosh get out of jail. At the same time, he feels guilty because he has asked for a favor without confessing his sins. This illustrates Marion’s understanding of his mother as one who can answer prayers and absolve sins. He makes this connection clear when he and Hema visit Rome, “not to see St. Teresa in marble, but to see Sister Mary Joseph Praise in the flesh, for that is what the figure was to me. I have come, Mother” (647). Marion’s faith encompasses both medicine and religion, which is embodied, for him, in his mother.
The unique community of Missing, and the open mind with which Matron manages it, allows for a wide range of faiths that encompass both religion and medicine. Just as Marion and Shiva exist as separate people as well as the spiritually-united ShivaMarion, these two seemingly disparate elements blend to create something new and essential in Mission.
By Abraham Verghese