Showing posts with label post-colonial literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label post-colonial literature. Show all posts

Sunday, 30 October 2011

Zanzibar - Gurnah's Paradise

One of my main motivations for starting this blog was because I was interested in discovering literary gems from other countries and cultures that I might otherwise have missed. 

It's been such a pleasure to read Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah.  The novel is quite well-known in the West, having been shortlisted for the Booker prize in 1994.  Gurnah was born in Zanzibar but has made a career for himself in the UK.  He currently lectures at the University of Kent.  Paradise didn't win the Booker prize - this was awarded to James Kelman's, How late it was, how late - a controversial decision that led one of the judges (Julia Neuberger) to resign from the judging panel. 

Themes

Paradise is set in Tanganyika (now Tanzania) during the period of German colonisation.  The main character is a young man called Yusuf who is taken away from his parents at a young age and sent to live with his 'Uncle' Aziz, a relatively affluent merchant, who spends a lot of his time journeying into Africa's dark interior to trade with distant tribes who live beside the lakes of the Great Rift valley. 

Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah
The urge to trade

One of the biggest themes of the book is the importance of trade and the great lengths that Uncle Aziz will go to trade with distant tribes and make a profit on his return home.  Not all of the trade is legal and it's revealed that Aziz is stock-piling rhinocerous horn, in a village at the end of the train line, where it can easily be transported to the coast and sold off to Indian merchants, when times are tough. 

A lot of the action of the novel centres on a disastrous trading expedition to visit a tribe on the far side of the lakes.  The journey itself is horrendous, with Aziz paying a fortune in 'gifts' to the tribal villages they pass through, some of his porters die in the jungle before they even reach their destination.  When they get to the village of the faraway tribe, they are held hostage and have all of their goods taken from them by force.  They eventually negotiate themselves out of the situation and leave with most of their goods, selling everything off at a cut-down rate as they make their way home.

Yusuf reflects on the human desire to trade 'it made him wonder what it was that people wanted so much that they could overcome that terror in search of trade'  Trade is certainly an interesting human impulse - wars have been fought over trade, societies have been corrupted and ruined in search of profit, and yet, it's an impulse that has driven forward progress and opened the world up to (what we consider to be) civilisation.  Uncle Aziz only seems happy when a trading expedition is in progress - it's as though it's the trade itself that gives his life meaning and not the settled life he comes back to and invests most of his profits into.

Zanzibar was at the heart of the East African and Indian ocean trade routes.  The wealth of Zanzibar was built on the trade of cloves and other spices and the trade in slaves from the African interior to the Arab world and beyond.

The pain of movement

Despite Uncle Aziz's desire to trade and travel into the interior, the language of the novel depicts the movement as frightening and unnatural.  When they are travelling to the jungle, the wheels of the train screech in high-pitched protests and the homesteads they pass hug the surface of the hurtling earth.  After the heavy rains in the jungle, the earth seems alive with movement, which scares the men, as they move further and further away from the civilised world. 

A new kind of slavery - Rehani and Magendo

Dhow at dusk by Caneles
Although slavery had been abolished by their European overlords, a kind of slavery persists in the novel and Yusuf finds out that Uncle Aziz isn't really his uncle and that he (Yusuf) has been given to Aziz by his parents as a type of rehani or 'bond', until Yusuf's father pays back a debt that he owes to the merchant.  When Yusuf arrives at Uncle Aziz's house, he is befriended by another young man, called Khalil, who is Uncle Aziz's shopkeeper and also bound to him as a result of a debt. 

As the novel progresses,Yusuf falls in love with Amina, Uncle Aziz's young wife and servant to 'the Mistress', the widow Uncle Aziz married because of her fortune.  Amina's case is even more deplorable, as she is megendo or 'stolen' and was sold to the merchant by Khalil's father, also to pay off a debt. 

Yusuf becomes fascinated by the old man, Mzee Hamdani, who tends to the Mistress's garden. He is a freed slave, who decided to stay with the family, even after slavery had been abolished.  He only speaks once during the novel and his words fascinate Yusuf when he says 'They offered me freedom as a gift.  She did [the Mistress]. Who told her she had it to offer?'  It raises an interesting point about whether or not one person can really own another person and that, somehow, freedom is not something that can be given or taken away. 

The Garden and the Jungle - desire and brutality

The novel is infused with a powerful and threatening sense of sexuality.  Yusuf is considered to be extremely handsome and arouses the interest of the various adults he comes into contact with .  He is the subject of unwelcome teasing by Ma Ajuza, one of the customers in the shop where he works with Khalil.  He is an object of desire for the men, as they deal with the hardships of the jungle.  He becomes an obsession for the Mistress, who convinces herself that she can only be cured of her mysterious illness, if she allows Yusuf to have sex with her. 

Brutality and romance are interwoven throughout the novel, a good example being the behaviour of Bachus, the Greek-Indian lorry driver, who constantly sings love songs, only pausing to unleash a string of obscenities, directed at the various porters.  Mohammed Abdalla, the mnyapara who manages the porters, is feared because of his great physical strength and his reputation for sexually abusing the men. 

Paradise, the title of the book, is ironic, in the sense that it describes 'hell on earth'.  The jungle is hell and paradise, at one and the same time - paradise because of the freedom Yusuf experiences there and the wonderful sights that he sees whilst travelling.  The garden is a sensual paradise, nurtured by Uncle Aziz's profits.  But it's also where Yusuf is watched by the Mistress - it is a prison and the walls are high. 

Reaching out by Caneles
Scavenging dogs and the fear of Wolf men

Dogs feature frequently in the book.  Yusuf associates them with his move to Uncle Aziz's home.  He and Khalil are forced to sleep outside and the dogs attack them, causing Yusuf recurring nightmares that haunt him throughout the rest of the novel.  One of their greatest fears in the jungle is of meeting the Wolf men - the product of interbreeding between the wolves of the jungle and the savage tribes.  Kalasingh is the Sikh driver who wants to translate the Qu'ran into Swahili, so the native Africans will understand the intolerance of their God.  He points out that Muslims are afraid of dogs, just as the Prophet Muhammad feared them.  As I've highlighted in previous blogs, dogs often herald death in art and literature and death pervades the novel Paradise.  When Khalil first meets Yusuf he nicknames him, kifa urongo which means 'the living death'.

In one of the key scenes at the end of the novel, Yusuf overcomes his fear, when he sees the dogs feasting on piles of excrement and they growl at him, warning him not to come near.  He realises that, like the dogs, he will be forced to 'eat shit' for his entire life, unless he does something drastic to change things.

Europeans and Indians - Gog and Magog

There is a real sense of fear in the descriptions of Europeans in the novel and hatred for the Indians who act as intermediaries between the Europeans and the native Africans.  The Africans believe that the Europeans have supernatural powers.  That they can eat iron and that they breathe fire!  They live in fear of the Germans and the brutal way that they make war.  The Germans bring an inflexible approach to punishment that fails to respect local traditions of retribution and being able to buy your way out of a hanging or whipping.  It is the Germans who rescue Uncle Aziz's property from the jungle tribe and it is the Germans who come searching for young men, at the end of the novel, so they can make war on their European enemies, the British.

The characters seem resigned to their fate and unable to counter the strength of European domination.  When Yusuf sees the German officer at the end of the novel, he thinks that the officer is smiling and, therefore, kind.  It's only when he sees the German officer up close that he realises the smile is a grimace, created by a physical deformity, it exposes the Germans rotting teeth and gums, prompting Yusuf to think of him as a living corpse. 

There are several references to Gog and Magog in the novel - the savage tribes that come from the north of the known world.  In the end, Yusuf decides to take his chances in the service of the Europeans, leaving his 'paradise' far behind him. 

Other themes

To Paradise Island by Caneles
Paradise is quite commonly compared to Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, but I also see elements of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (the madwoman in the attic) and Joseph, the son of Jacob in the Old Testament.  Like Joseph, Yusuf is abandoned by those who should take care of him and has to find his own way in a world that is incredibly hostile. 

The theme of language is an important one - especially the use of Kiswahili and Arabic and how this decides the nature of some of the relationships between the main characters.  When they are in the jungle, Nyundo the translator, ultimately holds the balance of power in the discussions between Uncle Aziz and the tribal leader. Yusuf is totally dependent on Khalil to translate between himself and the Mistress.  When Khalil refuses to translate any more, Amina takes over and the way she translates opens up a whole new conversation, which made me think about the different language used by men and women in the novel. 

The novel also has a lot to say about gender - although there are very few female characters, the world they inhabit is every bit as cruel as the world inhabited by the men. 

I see a lot of similarities with the last novel I read for this blog, Zayd Mutee' Dammaj's The Hostage (see my blog post about Yemen) - they both deal with young men who are removed from their families and kept as slaves/servants in a rich household.  They both deal with repressed sexuality and the exploitation of young people.  Both books have opened up a whole new world of Arabian and East African fiction for me, that I didn't previously know existed. 

Gurnah uses a lot of Swahili words throughout the novel and this has introduced me to a whole new language.  I'm pasting some of the new words I've learned below:

kanzu, tajiri mkubwa, washenzi, vibarua, mnyapara, kipande, maandazi, mahamri, nahodha, buibui, qasida, mganga, pombe, askari

Image credits:

The image of the book cover was taken by me.  I read the 1995 Penguin (2nd) edition of the book (no doubt published by Penguin, as a result of the novel's literary success)

For this blog post, I wanted to highlight the photography of flickrmember caneles, who is originally from Amsterdam.  You can see more of his work at his photostream - thanks caneles for sharing these images with us, using the Creative Commons license. 

Saturday, 4 September 2010

Saudi Arabia - Cities of Salt

Abdelrahman Munif

As part of my learning about Saudi Arabia, I read the epic Cities of Salt (Al-tin) by Abdelrahman Munif.  Munif was a Saudi citizen who was brought up in Amman, Jordan and, despite being one of the foremost writers in Arabic in the late 20th-century, doesn't seem to be terribly well-known in the West.  He was well-educated, having studied at the Sorbonne, as well as the University of Belgrade and spent many years living in both Iraq and Syria.  Many of his books are banned in Saudi Arabia (no surprise there) and Munif, who died in 2004, criticised modern Arab states, like Saudi Arabia and parodied their ruling classes in his writing.  He was once a member of the Arab Socialist Ba'ath party and was stripped of his Saudi citizenship because of his political beliefs. 

Post-colonial literature

When I was in university in Dublin, I studied courses in post-colonial literature and I could see Cities of Salt fitting into a post-colonial literature course quite easily.  It has been compared to Chinua Acebe's book, Things Fall Apart, which I've also read and there are definitely parallels between the arrival of the British in Nigeria in the late 19th-century and the arrival of the Americans in the Gulf in the 1930's.

Wadi al-Uyoun

The book starts in a wadi called al-Uyoun, which is somewhere in Arabia, before the arrival of the Americans and their mysterious pursuit of water and eventually oil.  The people of the wadi are described as almost child-like in their innocence and there is a strong sense of centuries of unbroken tradition, as the famous orchards and water of the wadi serve as a much-needed respite to caravans crossing the hostile landscape of the Arabian peninsula.  The caravans in their turn bring news of faraway places, much sought-after tools and products that the villagers receive in return for their hospitality.  The arrival of the caravans in Wadi al-Uyoun is a time of a great joy, but also a time of sadness, as it often takes some of the wadi's young men with it, as they leave to see the world and seek their fortunes. 

Miteb al-Hathal

One of the things about this novel that I found most difficult to understand was the constant change in narrative.  I think this might be a particularly Arabic form of story-telling, but the novel moves from one narrator to another, leaving lots of characters at a dead end, no longer to be heard or seen of again. 

The story first unfolds through the eyes of one of the wadi's elders, Miteb al-Hathal and, unlike many of the other narrators in the book, Miteb's spirit pervades the entire novel, so that he is still hovering over the events that happen towards the end of the book.  When the Americans first arrive in the wadi, it's almost as though they've landed in a spaceship, such is the wonder and fear experienced by the villagers.  Unlike his peer Ibn Rashed, who welcomes the arrival of the Americans, Miteb is filled with a sense of dread, as he observes these newcomers and tries to figure out the significance of their sudden appearance in the wadi.  At first, he's seen as an old fool, but eventually, as the Americans come more and more often and their behaviour becomes more and more intrusive, the villagers turn to Miteb for leadership.  But by then it's too late and the famous orchards of the wadi are pulled down around their ears and the villagers are forcibly moved on.

Ibn Rashed

Ibn Rashed is Miteb's rival and, whereas Miteb represents a mindset that is naive, sincere and incorruptible, Rashed sees an opportunity to make his fame and fortune, regardless of the impact it has on his society and its traditions.  He's seen as a traitor by many people, but there's also a sense that he is a pragmatist, realising that there is little he or anyone in the wadi can do to stop the advance of a new era. 

After the destruction of the wadi, Miteb disappears into the desert, to become a haunting ghost-like figure, who only re-appears at moments of extreme tension.  Ibn Rashed, on the other hand, becomes a very real figure, employing the bedouin to work on the construction of a new American city in a (fictional) location on the Persian Gulf, called Harran.  I suspect Harran may be based on Dhahran, in Saudi Arabia, as it fits the period and the pattern of growth of that city. 

There are also some really funny bits in the description of this culture clash, as Ibn Rashed observes the Americans' strange exercises, which they do every morning, stretching out their arms and legs and bending their bodies in a way that seems incredibly strange as a form of prayer ritual!  Their is also the shock that the young bedouin men get, when they reach Harran and see the sea for the first time ever - it's a landscape that they just can't get their heads around, or begin to understand.  Although, Ibn Rashed reigns supreme throughout a large part of the novel, like most middle-men, he eventually becomes irrelevant, as Harran grows and prospers and a more traditional set of Arabian entrepreneurs takes notice and moves in, leaving Ibn Rashed to die a broken and irrelevant man. 

The role of the Emir
 
Munif makes an important comment about the role of the Emir in all of this.  When the Americans first arrive in Wadi al-Uyoun, it is under the protection of the Emir.  This is challenged by Miteb, but he is told in no uncertain terms that the Emir has taken the side of the Americans and will crush any of his subjects/kinsmen who object.  A new Emir comes into power during the development of Harran and is painted as a much more sympathetic character, albeit one who is completely enthralled by the presence of the Americans.  The new Emir becomes obsessed with the gadgets that the Americans bring him, such as the telescope and the radio.  I see the telescope as an important symbol of the Emir's impotency as he increasingly becomes a remote observer of the changes that are happening in his country.  As the novel progresses, there is an increasing sense of distance between the Emir and his subjects.  In true, autocratic style, the novel is only brought to an end by the Emir's death. 

The relentless march of progress

Towards the end of the novel there are a series of stories about the various different characters who show up in Harran.  The lorry-drivers, who gain our sympathy in their attempts to establish their business of transporting people from the older population centre of Ujra, to the new city of opportunities and wealth, Harran.  Eventually they are put out of business by bigger and faster lorries and even these, within a short period of time, are put out of business by a fleet of brand new passenger buses that ply the Ujra-Harran route. 

Likewise, the traditional healer Muffadi is side-lined, scorned and eventually scape-goated, after the arrival of a (supposedly) Western-qualified doctor, Subhi al-Mahmilji.  Muffadi becomes an incredibly important character towards the end of the novel - his demise coincides with the arrival of the first soldiers in Harran and the unleashing of their harsh regime, torturing and eventually killing Muffadi.  His death finally unites the workers and the inhabitants of Harran, as they go into open revolt against the Americans and the Emir, leaving an inconclusive end of the book. 

Other themes

There are many other themes in the novel, including the poignant story of Umm Khosh, an older woman in Wadi al-Uyoun whose son left with a travelling caravan, as many of the other local boys did, but failed to return, or even send her a message to let her know he was alive.  It's a theme of grief and madness and it was really touching how the villagers rallied around her and tried to shield her from the worst excesses of her insanity. 

There are the over-arching themes or separation and the loss of a traditional way of life.  Miteb's family is left scattered and defenseless, when he disappears into the desert.  We can take this literally, of course, but I think Miteb also symbolises the loss of a traditional way of life.  He becomes a ghost, a shadow that fades in the glaring sun of the desert, but reappears at night to comfort the bedouin and terrify the Emir and the Americans.

There is the theme of sex.  When a ship laden with scantily-clad women arrives in the American part of Harran, it throws the entire community into disarray.  The men become restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate on their work, or look at women in the same way again.  It's an insignificant and (seemingly) innocuous event, as far as the Americans are concerned, but it has a profound affect on the community in Harran and challenges their moral standards in a way that highlights the most negative aspects of cultural interaction. 

The Americans are keen to study bedouin culture and learn Arabic, so they come around with little leather-bound notebooks, asking questions that are incredibly inappropriate and rousing the suspicions of the local people.  This raises an interesting theme of the importance of the written word to Arabian culture.  The Americans' note-taking is seen as a kind of sorcery, even the leather covers are compared to the leather amulets that people wear to ward off evil.  Also, as far as the local people are concerned, there is only one book of importance, which is the Qu'ran - they can't understand why anyone would want to write words which are not somehow related to the Qu'ran and, in a sense, words themselves and the act of writing are given a religious significance that I'm sure the Americans would never have suspected. 

Cities of Salt is a long read and a sometimes difficult one, but it's an incredibly important book that touches on many themes of relevance to readers in the Arab world and deserves greater recognition by readers in the West.

Image credits

The photo of the book cover was taken by me - this is the copy of Cities of Salt that I read.

The beautiful photo of the desert in Saudi Arabia was taken by flickruser OrangeSmell aka Arnaud Desbordes, who is from Poitiers in France.  Thanks Arnaud for sharing this image with us, using the Creative Commons License.