Summary

What Is the What, by Dave Eggers, tells the story of Valentino Achak Deng, a Sudanese refugee whose life unfolds against the backdrop of civil war, displacement, and survival. From his earliest days in Marial Bai, Valentino basks in the warmth of family and community. He shares meals of sorghum cake and fish, listens to elders recount ancient tales, and learns to fish along the White Nile. His school days are enlivened by friends like Francis and Simon, and his older brother, Chol, watches over him with quiet pride. Life moves at a gentle pace—until the war intrudes.

One afternoon, rumors swirl that government forces approach. Soldiers march in dusty lines, their guns slung over shoulders. Valentino’s village braces itself, but no one truly believes the conflict will reach their remote settlement. Children play among the huts while mothers churn butter and grind grain by the river. Then one night, flames rise on the horizon, and voices shout in panic. Families scramble to gather goats and blankets, fleeing under a dark sky.

Valentino joins his relatives on the run. They head west, leaving behind smoldering huts and scorched fields. Goats bleat and stumble over rocks as elders lead the way by starlight. Each step carries them farther from home. They sleep in shallow ditches, huddle for warmth, and wake to the groans of those who cannot rise. The youngest children whimper, thirsty and frightened. Valentino prays silently, hoping they will find safety.

After days of walking, the group reaches the Sudan–Ethiopia border. They collapse near a swampy river bed, too exhausted to move. Relief pulses through them when Red Cross workers arrive with water and bread. Valentino tastes bread for the first time in weeks. He watches relief trucks roll into the makeshift camp called Pado, and he thinks he might live. Yet peace is fragile. Hunger remains, and fear lingers in every face.

In Ethiopia’s Pado camp, Valentino spends months rebuilding his strength. He helps unload supplies, nightmares chasing him even in daylight. Then news arrives of mounting conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea. Bombs fall on nearby villages. The refugees—once safe—must flee again. Valentino hears elders whisper that camps will close. The fragile hope he’d allowed himself begins to crumble.

So he and a group of boys embark on a new trek toward Kenya. They march under a blistering sun, skins blistered and cracked. They talk little, conserving energy and water. Some carry younger children; others support the elderly. When watering holes appear, vultures wheel overhead, waiting for the weak. Every dawn feels like a test: who will survive the day?

Finally they reach Kenya’s border and enter Kakuma camp. They pass through barbed wire gates under bright floodlights. Volunteers hand out rice, beans, soap. Valentino feels relief at first, but soon the camp’s chaos and cramped tents leave him unsettled. He paces the perimeter fence at night, listening to distant gunfire across the border. Even safety has its limits.

At Kakuma, Valentino meets other Lost Boys—children who’ve witnessed horrors beyond imagining. They share stories of ambushes, famine, and separation. Together they build a semblance of family. They dig latrines, attend makeshift schools, and play soccer on dusty fields. Yet each kickoff echoes the fragility of hope. A single letter from a distant sponsor can change everything—or nothing.

By age seventeen, Valentino learns that international resettlement is possible. He fills out forms, endures interviews, anxiously awaits decisions. He chooses the United States, drawn by stories of opportunity and safety. Many prefer Canada or Australia; he picks America. The thought of Atlanta holds both promise and fear.

In early 2001, Valentino lands in Atlanta. He stumbles off the plane, blinking in the mild winter light. Resettlement workers greet him with warm coats, turkey sandwiches, an apartment key. He soon discovers that safety doesn’t pay rent. The small apartment is sparse: a thin mattress on the floor, a single lightbulb overhead. He scrapes together money for utilities, works odd cleaning jobs, and pays English tutors by day.

Life in Atlanta stretches Valentino’s resilience. He learns to ride city buses, to navigate cold grocery stores, and to bargain in secondhand shops. He shares space with other refugees—Eritreans, Somalis, Congolese—each wrestling with grief and hope. They swap recipes, string lights in their windows, and dream of phone calls home. Many nights, Valentino lies awake worrying about loved ones still in Sudan.

Eventually he relocates to Clarkston, Georgia, where he meets Dominic, a fellow refugee from Liberia. They connect over shared losses and plans for the future. Slowly Valentino enrolls at a community college. He studies math and literature, seeks a path that might lead somewhere beyond the margins. He tutors younger refugees, hoping to give back what he’s been given.

His ambition takes him north to the University of Rochester, where he studies computer science. He grapples with imposter syndrome in ivory towers, where his accent stands out amid polished voices. Yet professors praise his work ethic, classmates welcome his insights. He finds professors who care, friends who invite him for coffee, and a sense of belonging he’d thought lost forever.

Still, memories of Marial Bai haunt him. Nightmares of sandstorms and gunshots wake him. He carries survivor’s guilt for friends who vanished along the way. He wonders if he has the right to build a new life when so many perished. At times, he falters under the weight of remembrance.

To honor those left behind, Valentino becomes an advocate. He speaks at schools, churches, and universities, recounting tales of hope amid horror. He raises funds to build schools in South Sudan, and he aids family members still stranded in refugee camps. His voice breaks with emotion when he recalls lost friends. He doesn’t seek pity; he demands action.

In the end, Valentino’s story reveals how survival can shape a life. He learns that identity is fluid: sometimes refugee, sometimes student, sometimes activist. He holds both pain and possibility in his heart. And though he builds a new home in the United States, his soul remains tethered to the dusty roads of Sudan, where his journey first began.

Detailed Summary

Plot Summary

1. Escape from Battle Zone Eight

In the early days of Sudan’s brutal civil war, Valentino Achak Deng flees his village of Mariel. Rebel forces attack without warning, driving families into the bush. Valentino, only nine, finds himself alone as he witnesses his home burn. Fear and confusion mingle in his young mind, yet he presses on. He hopes to find relatives or safety amid the chaos.

He joins a group of other child survivors led by an older boy named David Deng. They trek toward Ethiopia, scavenging for food and water in scorched fields. Each day, the children bury fallen friends in quiet ceremonies. Hunger gnaws at their bellies. Dust clings to their clothes and skin. Their journey grows more desperate with every mile.

Crossing the border, they meet Ethiopian and international aid workers. For a moment, hope blossoms. Relief tents offer rice, water, and medical care. Valentino befriends John Graham, a physician who shares stories of home in America. He treats burns and infections with gentle hands. That kindness sparks a fragile sense of trust in Valentino, even as uncertainty about tomorrow looms large.

Yet safety proves fleeting. Political tensions in Ethiopia force camp closures. Aid convoys halt. Valentino and his friends must leave once more. Their relief dissolves into fresh fear. They scramble to find new refuge, forging onward into the unknown.

Forced departures become routine. Valentino learns to carry only essentials. He buries memories of his home beneath layers of survival instinct. Each new dawn brings challenges he never imagined facing as a child.

2. Lost in the Desert March

When aid withdraws from Ethiopia, Valentino and roughly a hundred other boys start a trek back into Sudan. They face scorching heat, scarce water, and lethal mines scattered across desert plains. Each step feels heavier under the punishing sun. Their lips crack. Their breaths come in ragged gasps.

One night, they camp by a dried riverbed. The boys share what little they have: a few grains of maize, a stolen handful of sorghum. Valentino keeps vigil, worried about militia patrols. He remembers the promise of reaching refugee camps in Kenya, but the horizon remains empty and daunting.

On the march, some boys succumb to thirst and collapse. Others vanish—captured or lost. Valentino finds brief comfort in singing old folk songs at dusk. His voice trembles, yet it keeps despair at bay. He leads his small group onward, determined to survive.

When they finally spot a Kenyan border post, relief washes over them. Guards wave them through with concerned looks. Valentino’s heart pounds, but exhaustion nearly pins him to the sand. He crosses that line with tears on his face, not sure if they signal joy, grief, or relief.

Arriving at Kakuma refugee camp, he sees rows of tents and endless lines for food. It feels alien. Yet he knows: here, he might rebuild some semblance of life.

3. Camp Life and New Bonds

At Kakuma, Valentino registers with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. He learns English in makeshift classrooms and shares a tent with dozens of boys. Names become faces amid the crowd. He meets Yousif, who cracks jokes to lighten their days, and Mabior, who prays each morning for safety.

Valentino and his friends develop routines. They wake at dawn for soup and porridge. They join adult-led workshops on hygiene and agriculture. He hones his drawing skills, sketching portraits of fellow refugees. Art becomes escape and solace.

Still, violence simmers. Militia raids nearby villages. Rumors spread of kidnappings for child soldiers. Valentino hides whenever trucks with military insignia pass by. He clings to memories of his mother’s lullabies for courage.

In time, a visiting American volunteer, Helen Kretzmer, and her husband, John, take interest in his story. They invite him to their home in Rochester, New York, if he ever gains resettlement. Valentino sees a sliver of hope, though the process stretches years.

Despite hardship, friendships deepen. The boys share tales of home in Dinka dialects around evening fires. They laugh when someone tries to imitate an American accent. Sounds of camaraderie lift spirits under starlit skies.

4. The Long Road to America

Valentino’s paperwork clears slowly. Each delay brings fresh anxiety. He worries the U.S. might close its doors. When he finally receives a resettlement approval, he feels disoriented. He bids farewell to friends who remain behind. Their hugs hold silent promises.

He flies first to New York City, dazzled by skyscrapers and traffic. Bright lights glaze the night sky. Sounds of sirens and taxi horns overwhelm him. He clings to Helen and John through the airport crowds. Their warm smiles anchor him.

In Rochester, Valentino confronts winter’s biting cold. Snow covers lawns and sidewalks. He stumbles on icy patches en route to school. Still, he learns English faster than he expects. Words once foreign twist easily on his tongue.

He enrolls in high school, joining the soccer team and choir. Teasing from classmates stings at first. He feels like an outsider. Yet soon teammates applaud his goals. A music teacher praises his vocal solos. Those moments reassure him that he’s more than a refugee label.

Hope and guilt mingle in his heart. He calls his family still in Sudan every week. He lies about luxury, not wanting them to worry. In truth, a cup of hot chocolate makes him dizzy with relief.

5. Publishing the Memoir

In Rochester, Valentino begins to share his story. He writes pages about the desert, the friends lost on the march, and moments of kindness that saved him. His account catches the attention of Dave Eggers, a writer seeking to amplify refugee voices.

Valentino meets Eggers in a café. They talk for hours. Eggers listens, sometimes tears welling in his eyes. He encourages Valentino to speak in his own voice, to let his memories guide the narrative. That collaboration becomes “What Is the What.”

As drafts emerge, Valentino revisits painful recollections. He trembles writing about children drowning in rivers and forced enlistment. He remembers his mother’s laughter and his father’s steady gaze. Those memories bring both comfort and sorrow.

When the book nears publication, Valentino worries about exposure. He fears retribution for those left behind. He and Eggers decide to alter certain names for safety. Still, the urgency of sharing the story outweighs the risk.

Upon release, the memoir garners awards and media attention. Valentino travels to Seattle, Chicago, and London to speak. Audiences listen in hush, many moved to tears. His quiet voice echoes across nations.

6. Building a New Life and Giving Back

Valentino uses his platform to advocate for refugees globally. He partners with NGOs to provide schooling and clean water in South Sudan. He funds scholarships in Kakuma camp. Each success honors friends who perished on the road.

He returns to Sudan once, walking among rebuilt villages. He meets mothers who lost sons. He sits under acacia trees and prays. He carries seeds for planting as symbols of hope.

Back in Rochester, he pursues a degree in literature. He writes poems dedicated to those left behind. He mentors young refugees arriving in America. He teaches them that memory can heal and drive change.

Though scars remain, Valentino crafts a life of purpose. He finds balance between past and present. He breathes in cold winters and humid rains alike. In every language he speaks, he carries Mariel with him.

Characters

1. Valentino Achak Deng (Protagonist)

I carry the cries of my brothers beneath each step, yet I walk toward a future they cannot see.

Valentino grows from a nine-year-old boy in wartime South Sudan to a thoughtful young man in America. He endures perilous marches, hunger, and loss with quiet bravery. Through each trial, he retains a gentle curiosity, sketching portraits of friends and singing folk songs around campfires.

In Rochester, he transforms lingering trauma into creativity. He studies literature and opens his heart to new opportunities. Though memories of conflict shadow him, he forges friendships on the soccer field and in choir rehearsals. Valentino’s journey emphasizes resilience intertwined with humility.

quote: “I carry the cries of my brothers beneath each step, yet I walk toward a future they cannot see.”

2. Dave Eggers (Collaborator and Narrator)

“Your story isn’t mine to own. My job is to help you tell it.”

Dave Eggers plays the crucial role of co-author and listener in Valentino’s story. He doesn’t force voice but rather amplifies Valentino’s words, ensuring authenticity. He interviews, transcribes, and gently guides the narrative shape of the memoir.

Eggers balances journalistic rigor with narrative empathy. He respects the emotional weight of Valentino’s memories and helps translate them into prose that resonates globally. His presence underscores the power of storytelling across cultures.

3. John Graham (Aid Worker and Mentor)

“Art can heal wounds words cannot reach.”

John Graham, an American doctor in Ethiopia, offers Valentino his first glimpse of compassion beyond cruelty. He treats wounded refugees and shares simple anecdotes of his hometown. His caring manner instills Valentino with trust in strangers’ goodwill.

Graham’s kindness provides a fragile oasis in a desert of violence. He fosters Valentino’s early talent for drawing by giving him pencils and paper. That gift evolves into a tool for self-expression and healing throughout Valentino’s life.

4. Helen Kretzmer (Resettlement Sponsor)

Here, you are our son, no papers required.

Helen, along with her husband John Kretzmer, sponsors Valentino’s move to Rochester. She navigates bureaucratic mazes, advocates for expedited processing, and opens her home and heart. She teaches him to drive in snowy weather and hosts study sessions in her living room.

Her unwavering support eases Valentino’s culture shock. She invites him to family dinners and celebrates his first winter holiday. In doing so, she crafts a sense of home when all seems alien. Her hospitality becomes the foundation for his new identity.

quote: “Here, you are our son, no papers required.”

5. David Deng (Child Guide and Protector)

Keep walking. Every step takes us farther from the bullets.

David, an older boy in Valentino’s group, assumes a guardian role during the marches. He shares survival tips: how to find water in dry riverbeds and what plants to avoid. His steady voice calms panicked children at night.

David struggles with his own fears but hides them to comfort younger boys. He carries stolen biscuits in his pockets to distribute at dusk. His leadership proves vital until illness overtakes him. His sacrifice becomes a quiet lesson in courage and brotherhood.

quote: “Keep walking. Every step takes us farther from the bullets.”

Themes Analysis

1. Resilience Amid Adversity

Valentino’s story exemplifies human resilience in the face of war’s horrors. He endures hunger, violence, and loss with persistent hope. Each forced march tests body and spirit, yet he draws upon memories of home and the kindness of strangers to go on.

The memoir doesn’t shy away from suffering, but it highlights small victories: a meal shared, a drawing completed, or the sound of a friend’s laughter around a campfire. Such moments underscore the inner strength that emerges when hope seems impossible.

Ultimately, the narrative shows that resilience is not solitary. Community—of children on the march, of aid workers in camps, and of sponsors in America—becomes the bedrock for healing and renewal.

2. Memory and Identity

“What Is the What” explores how memories shape selfhood. Valentino carries mental images of his mother’s lullabies and his village’s green fields, even when cast into dusty deserts. These recollections anchor him through crises.

In America, he grapples with a dual identity. He learns English slang and academic jargon, yet Sudan’s past remains vivid. His sketches and poems become bridges between worlds. By sharing his narrative, he affirms that memory forms the core of identity, even without a physical homeland.

This interplay of past and present suggests that identity evolves through narrative. By choosing which memories to share—and how to share them—Valentino regains ownership of his story.

3. The Power of Storytelling

The memoir underscores storytelling as survival’s echo. In refugee camps, songs and tales pass through generations of displaced children. They keep culture alive and forge connections amid fragmentation.

Eggers’s collaboration further highlights narrative’s global power. Through print and lecture halls, Valentino’s voice reaches audiences worldwide. His story prompts empathy, policy debates, and charitable action. It proves that personal narratives can influence collective consciousness.

Thus, the book becomes testament to story’s transformative force. It invites readers to bear witness, to remember, and to recognize shared humanity beyond borders.

Key Plot Devices

1. The Refugee March

The repeated forced marches serve as a central device driving Valentino’s transformation. Each trek pushes him physically and emotionally to new limits. He learns to navigate terrain, judge human nature, and make friendship into lifelines.

Narratively, the marches provide structure. They segment the memoir into distinct phases of journey and survival. They also symbolically mirror the rite of passage from childhood innocence to hardened resilience.

2. Art and Drawing

Valentino’s sketches operate as both refuge and memoir within the story. When words fail, his drawings capture faces of lost friends and imagined futures. Those images become tangible proof of his experiences.

Within the plot, art scenes offer pauses amid chaos. They reveal Valentino’s interior life—his fears, hopes, and moments of fleeting joy. They underscore how creativity can restore agency to even the most powerless.

3. American Sponsorship

The arrival of Helen and John Kretzmer marks a pivotal shift. Their willingness to sponsor Valentino catalyzes his resettlement. This device introduces themes of cross-cultural empathy and obligation.

It also provides contrast: Valentino moves from crowded camps into spacious homes. From suspicion to trust. From scarcity to opportunity. That transition illuminates the stark disparities between war-torn regions and Western comforts, driving home the memoir’s call for global responsibility.