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Asma Hassanin
3467880
Creative Writing BA paper
Simon Cook
8-4-2012
7600 words
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Introduction
I chose to write my BA paper on the Creative Writing course because I would be able to write a short
story in which I could use my own knowledge. I also knew that this course gives me a lot of choice;
There are a lot of topics I can write about. For example, the characteristics of a particular literary
tradition like the themes, genre, trope and technique of a literary work. I could also focus on a group of
writers, or one particular writer if I wished. For me, it was the ideal assignment, as I think that
everyone who likes to read novels has his/her own preference when it comes to literature. Some like to
focus on a theme, while others are fond of a particular writer. I was interested in British Muslim
fiction and British literature written by British-Arab writers. I searched for writers who had an
Egyptian background like I have. I came across Ahdaf Soueif and Leila Aboulela who are EgyptianBritish writers (Aboulela’s mother is Egyptian). I liked their novels and I was interested in how they
used their Egyptian and Islamic background in their novels. I found out that they make use of religious
passages and the Arabic language. Their novels also give insight into the lives of Arabs and Muslims.
Because of my Egyptian background, I was also able to use my knowledge of Egyptian society and
politics in my short story. In addition, I wanted to insert the Arabic language and literature in my
short story as Soueif and Aboulela do. I translated a famous Egyptian poem and used Egyptian phrases
and expressions.
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Ahdaf Soueif and Leila Aboulela’s British Muslim Fiction
British Muslim literature refers broadly to works written by British Muslim writers, denoting fiction
characterised by its tendency to integrate Islamic culture with British culture as well. However, Claire
Chambers finds it difficult to fully embrace this simple explanation, stating that British Muslim fiction
can be viewed from different perspectives. She quotes Nigel William whose character Robert in the
novel East of Wimbledon poses various questions about the different ways in which this literature is
defined1: “In 1993, when William’s novel was written, the very idea of talking about ‘Islamic English
literature’ or- my preferred term- literature by writers of Muslim heritage’ appeared ripe for satire, but
now all the questions raised by Robert in this opening passage are being seriously interrogated”
(Chambers 5). Chambers argues that ascribing an author’s work to British Muslim fiction according to
his/her faith would be an oversimplification, as there are, of course, enough authors with a Muslim
background who do not practise religion. She therefore lays considerable stress on the distinction
between Islam as a religion and Islam as a civilization, pointing out that she considers works of
authors who are sharply critical of the Islamic religion also as Muslim fiction (Chamber 9). It should
be noted that the authors she is referring to as writers of Muslim fiction all have a Muslim
civilizational heritage in common (Chamber 10). As an example of the variety of writers who often
contribute to this body of writing, Chambers decides to add lists of British Muslim writers, focussing
on how they tend to perceive themselves in terms of religiosity. For instance, Leila Aboulela, Robin
Yassin-Kassab, Aamer Hussein, and Zahid Hussein classify themselves as religious, while other
writers, for example Ahdaf Soueif, indicate that they are more or less influenced by “Islamicate
civilizations” (Chamber 11). Amin Malak comments on the impact of the Islamic religion on this
writers, arguing that
He [the School’s headmaster, Mr Malik] spread his hands generously. ‘You, of course, among your other
duties, will be teaching Islamic English Literature.’
Robert nodded keenly. His floppy, blond hair fell forward over his eyes, and he raked it back with what he hoped
was boyish eagerness. [...] ‘In that context,’ he said, ‘do you see Islamic English literature as being literature by
English, or Welsh or Scottish Muslims?’
They both looked at each other in consternation. Perhaps, like him, Mr Malik was unable to think of a single
Muslim writer who fitted that description.
‘Or,’ went on Robert, struggling somewhat, ‘do you see it as work that has a Muslim dimension? Such as...
Paradise Lost for example.’
What was the Muslim dimension in Paradise Lost? Robert became aware that the room had suddenly become
very hot.
‘Or,’ he went on swiftly,’ simply English literature viewed from a Muslim perspective?’
‘You will view English from a Muslim perspective,’ said Malik with a broad, affable grin, ‘because you are a
Muslim! (Chambers 4-5).
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Muslim narrative writers [...] project the culture and civilization of Islam from within, and many of the texts
epitomize this notion of an insider’s view of Islam. By removing Muslims from the position of the Other, these
novelists create various possibilities for Muslims’ depictions. In this century’s climate of Islamophobia, wars of
questionable legality, and oppressive counter-terror legislation, many writers are exploring Muslim identity.
Whereas non-Muslim authors tend to zero in on the figure of the terrorist, drawing upon a tradition in literature
stretching back to Conrad, Muslim writers have often looked at Islam in complex, multifaceted ways. The writers in
this volume assert the right to explore their religious background, but equally to disregard, satirize, challenge and
praise it (Chamber 13).
In other words, writers of what is called Muslim fictions are merely influenced by Islamic civilization,
and do not always have to write on religious subjects.
On the other hand, there might be a problem with the term ‘British Muslim
literature’ or ‘British Muslim fiction’ as many writers do not consider their work part of this body of
writing; Leila Aboulela says: “I don’t want to be labelled or tagged as a Muslim writer; I want to be
seen just as a writer, that’s the right answer today, I suppose and it’s true” (Chambers 103). Another
serious problem is the recent and ongoing development of British Muslim fiction, as it is a new form
of literature and not yet acknowledged by a high number of critics and the masses. The existence of
such literature can therefore be vigorously challenged, as even Claire Chambers who wrote on British
Muslim literature poses the question whether the term ‘Muslim fiction’ is acceptable and whether it
exists. Nevertheless Wail S. Hassan adopts the position that British Muslim fiction does exist, and
states that it is a new form of fiction:
... I want to assess the possibilities and limitations of her contribution to a new trend that has been called "Muslim
immigrant literature" a literature that seeks to articulate an alternative episteme derived from Islam but shaped
specifically by immigrant perspectives. The novelty of this brand of Anglophone fiction is that it moves away from
the reactive position of "writing back... (Hassan 4).
The question whether this literature actually exists remains open, and should
therefore be substituted by another interesting question, which is what novels that might belong to
British Muslim literature have in common, despite the authors’ ideological and religious differences.
This might give insight into the characteristic features of this kind of fiction. The Arab-British writers
Ahdaf Soueif and Leila Aboulela can be presented as an example of writers whose works are regarded
as British Muslim literature, and who differ ideologically. Leila Aboulela’s works are often referred to
as “Halal fiction”, suggesting literature that can be viewed as a religious statement (Chambers 101).
Sadia Abbas comments on her novel The Translator, describing it as no more than a religious novel in
which the lifes of British Muslims are reflected: “Can there be a religious novel? seems easy enough.
All one need do is write a novel with religious protagonists, which observes their pieties with
sympathy. Such contemporary novels are rare, outside Christian genre fiction, and it is striking that the
Sudanese British, avowedly didactic, Muslim writer Leila Aboulela has written not one but two such
novels” (Abbas 15). Aboulela herself states that she is interested in writing about the experiences and
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perceptions of religious British Muslims, not about Islam as a religion (Hassan 34). Ahdaf Soueif, on
the other hand, develops different characters in her novel, in which her protagonists do not have to be
Muslim, and may be an adherent of any other religion, or none. In the Map of Love, Egypt is seen
through the eyes of a young English widow Lady Anna Winterbourne who has moved there to
discover the former British colony. However, many events are also seen through the eyes of Egyptians
,for example, Sharif Pasha al-Baroudi’s sister. In addition, Leila Aboulela’s novels are not, strictly
speaking, overtly religious, or even entirely populated by religious characters, although there are many
direct references to religion and spirituality. Leila Aboulela’s religious views are reflected in her
frequent use of Quranic passages, Hadeeth, supplications, Islamic sayings and spiritual statements that
are often translated into English, which separates her from many other writers, including Ahdaf
Soueif. These English translations of Islamic texts deepen the religious experiences of the characters,
shedding light on the way Muslims view their religion: “There was more reward praying in a group
than praying alone. When she prayed with others, she found it easier to concentrate, her heart held
steady by those who had faith like her. Now she stood alone under the high ceiling of the ancient
college, began to say silently, All praise belongs to Allah, Lord of all the worlds, the Compassionate,
the Merciful...” (the Translator 72). Ahdaf Soueif rarely uses religious passages in her novels, and
when she does, she uses these passages to cast more light on the way Egyptians speak to each other,
for example after a visit to the tombs of their relatives: “ ‘God have mercy on him too, ‘Sharif Basha
says, ‘all this was a long time ago.’ ‘God forgets nobody,’ Baroudi Bey says, ‘His mercy is vast. And
He forgets nobody.’ ‘Recite “Say He is God the Only One, “ and ease your mind,’ Sharif Basha says”
(The Map of Love 474). Both writers use religious terms, but for different purposes; Ahdaf Soueif
uses them to give insight into Egyptian culture and society, whereas Leila Aboulela aims to create a
religious atmosphere.
In addition, both Soueif and Aboulela’s novels contain many Arabic words,
nearly always italicised in Aboulela’s novels. Aboulela prefers to use more Islamic terms, whereas
Soueif deploys standard Arabic and dialectal Egyptian to describe the way Egyptians interact with
each other (Albakry and Hancock 1): “’I’ll make you some coffee, Khalu2’” (In the Eye of the Sun 3).
This combination of English and Arabic is called ‘code switching,’ or ‘language switching.’ Braj
Kachru makes the point that languages switching is “not only the combination of two languages, but
also the creation of societal, cultural, aestatic and literary norms with a distinct context of
situation”(Albakry and Hancock 11). Kachru suggests that a narrative gains authenticity, when it
contains “‘the use of native similes and metaphors’, ‘the transfer of rhetorical devices for
“personalizing” speech interaction’, ‘the translation of proverbs, idioms and other devices’, the use of
culturally dependent speech styles’, and ‘the use of syntactic devices’”(Albakry and Hancock 11).
Ahdaf Soueif uses many standard Arabic and dialectal Egyptian formulas, metaphors, proverbs and
2
Khalu means uncle
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idioms, translating many of them literally into English: “Zeinab Hanim knows that the monkey in his
mother’s eyes, is a gazelle, but this is not a mother’s fondness; the whole world would agree that her
son is a fine man, a true man who fills his clothes” (the Map of Love 281). The Egyptian proverb ‘a
man who fills his clothes’ implies that a fat man represents wealth, and is therefore a suitable husband
because he is able to provide for his wife and children. By not translating all words, or sentences into
Arabic, Ahdaf Soueif might intend to preserve the connotation; as a result, the Arabic words and
phrases maintain their sociocultural implications, which is a significant feature of Ahdaf Soueif’s
novel the Map of Love (Albakry and Hancock 18). In contrast to Ahdaf Soueif, Leila Aboulela rarely,
or even never, translates Arabic formulas, proverbs, metaphors and idioms into English. Her writing
style is poetic, and even at times highly intertextual, referring often to other content such as the Quran
and various Sudanese writers (Chambers 99). She also uses Scottish street slang, combining it with
Arabic words and phrases such as Alhamdulillah, which literally means ‘all praise belongs to God’
(Chambers 99).
However, Leila Aboulela and Ahdaf Soueif’s novels drip with vivid images of
their country of origin, allowing the reader to experience Egypt and Sudan from the perspective of the
authors. Ahdaf Soueif tends to focus on colours, sounds and smells which she associates with Egypt;
for example, the smell of Jasmine might conjure up memories of Egypt in Ahdaf Soueif’s mind, as she
often refers to this flower when describing Egyptian bedrooms. She also translates patriotic and
romantic Egyptian song texts into English, perhaps attempting to draw the reader into a setting that
serves as a mirror for the emotions which she experiences when thinking of her country. Leila
Aboulela, on the other hand, uses weather as a contributor to set the mood of a character who dreams
of leaving Scotland for Sudan (Hassan 8). While Leila Aboulela refers mostly to Arab writers, Ahdaf
Soueif’s texts allude to a variety of Western writers, for example, Eliot, Lorca, Tolstoy and Alcott.
The same texts are also under the influence of Arab writers such as Tayib Salih and Naguib Mafouz
(Chambers 249). Ahdaf Soueif indicates that these intertextual allusions are part of her world and
reality, which makes some of her novels more than a personal collection in which her time between
Egypt and Britain, and perception of both countries are insightfully viewed.
Ahdaf Soueif admits that she often feels compelled to defend Islam, particularly in these
days in which many have noted Western media’s often negative representation of Islam and Muslims:
“Sometimes it seems as if every Arab and every Muslim is living with an eye on their image in the
West, and that is hampering (Chambers 249-250). In addition, Edward Said commented on the
negative depiction of Arabs and Muslims in the West, particularly in films and television: “In the films
and television the Arab is associated with either lechery or bloodthirsty dishonesty... essentially
sadistic, treacherous, low. Slave trader, camel driver, moneychanger, colourful scoundrel... the Arab is
always shown in large numbers. No individuality, no personal characteristics or experiences....”
(Webb 24). Said emphasizes that these images are used to create fear in the minds of people: “Lurking
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behind all of these images is the menace of Jihad. Consequence: a fear that the Muslims (or Arabs)
will take over the world” (Webb 24). Instead of ignoring these negative discourses about Muslims and
Arabs, Ahdaf Soueif and Leila Aboulela both mention incidents of discrimination against Muslims in
their novels, exposing the prejudice of certain individuals, and revealing the disastrous consequences
of negative discourses about Arabs and Muslims. For instance, bearded Arab men are often seen and
described as terrorists by Western characters in their novels while they are, in fact, individuals with
pleasant characteristics. Furthermore, many passages in their novels illustrate both writers’ anticolonial stance. Leila Aboulela, for example links Islam to African anti-colonialism (Abbas 24). What
both writers also have in common is their consistent attempt to provide a realistic illustration of the
interaction between Arabs and British non-Muslims. These attempts have attracted a great deal of
attention; The Sudanese ambassador in London called Leila Aboulela’s novel The Translator “a
dialogue of civilizations” (Abbas 37). This is because the novel contrasts many anticolonial novels
which tend to view the interaction between Muslims and non-Muslims as a clash of civilizations. In
contrast to Aboulela’s novels, Ahdaf Soueif novels refer to Islamism, terrorism and Islamist
movements such as the Muslim Brotherhood and al Jamaat al Islamiya3, explaining the reason behind
the recent rise of Islamic movements in Egypt. For example, the character Amal in The Map of Love
understands the young men that have become member of Islamic movements out of desperation; she
regards the injustice and corruption of the Egyptian government as factors behind the problem of
young people who become terrorists and fight the Egyptian regime (Chambers 254): “She cannot do
anything about the sale of the national industries, about the deals and the corruption and the
hopelessness and brutality that drive young men to grow their beards and try to shoot and bomb their
way into a long-gone past” (The Map of Love 298). In Soueif’s novels, bearded men are often
associated with political Islam and Islamic movements, whereas Aboulela’s novels tend to describe
bearded Muslims as pious individuals with pleasant characteristics. In other words, Aboulela views the
beard as a religious symbol. However, it can be said that Soueif does not negatively stereotype
bearded Muslim men, as she clearly writes about the biased stance of Americans towards bearded
Muslim students: “It was there, after he had stopped to speak to a bearded young Arab student, that
she has asked, ‘Are you involved with the fundamentalists?’ ‘What fundamentalists?’ he asked. ‘I
don’t know. Hamas, or Hizbollah. Or in Egypt.’” (The Map of Love 178). Ahdaf Soueif also treats the
problem of the Copts in Egypt. She views the problems between Copts and Muslims largely from an
Egyptian perspective rather than a Western one, indirectly accusing the American congress of
applying the divide and rule policy in Egypt: “’Well, they’re trying to pass some bill through congress
about their duty to protect the Christian minority in Egypt, and of course that’s the game the British
played a hundred years ago and people know that. It just stirs up bad feeling’” (The Map of Love 186).
3
Egyptian Islamist movement which aims to overthrow the Egyptian government and replace it by an Islamic
Sunni state.
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Soueif’s novels are to some extent political novels, as many of Egypt’s political problems are
mentioned and explained in these novels.
In conclusion, writers of British Muslim fiction do not have to be overtly
religious. All of them are influenced by Islamic civilization, which is often reflected in their novels. It
takes a subtle comparison between the religious Muslim writer Leila Aboulela and a more liberal one
like Ahdaf Soueif to discern the similarities and differences between two British Muslim writers who
differ ideologically. Both writers use translated Quran texts and Arabic words in their novels.
However, their subjects and the themes in their novels differ because of the writer’s ideological
differences. While Ahdaf Soueif concentrates on Egyptian culture and politics, Leila Aboulela is tends
to create a more religious atmosphere. This shows that British Muslim writers are affected by Islamic
civilization, but can nonetheless write on non-religious subjects as well.
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The Demonstrator
The revolution has always been in the hands of the young. The young always inherit the revolution.
Huey Newton
25 January 2011
There was Rana, standing at the corner of a long airport corridor decorated with paintings of oldEgyptian deities and figures. There were also shelves along the walls, with golden framed pictures of
president Hosni Mubarak. With uncontrollable contempt, Rana stared at the picture, then she
suddenly realised that she wasn’t in Britain anymore, but in a country where plain-clothed police
agents could arrest anyone for just about anything. Rana quickly looked around, wondering whether
someone had seen her. The tension in her body seeped away as she saw that a nearby group of police
officers in white uniforms had paid her no attention. She sat down and decided to glare at passing
travellers. All sorts of people were hastily walking. Arabs, Europeans, Asians, Africans, women fully
covered in black, beautiful Arab women in Western clothes, bearded Muslim men, Coptic priests
wearing a huge gold cross around their neck, blond American girls smiling at a group of female
Egyptian students who picked them up . The airport was hot, crowded, and its walls and tables felt
sticky. People were shouting, talking, sitting, phoning, reading a newspaper or magazine, hugging,
kissing, and waving at each other. A police officer walked towards a light-skinned man with a long
beard, ordering the religious-looking man to follow him.
“What have I done, ya hadret izabit?”4
“Don’t talk. Come with me.”
“But my family is waiting for me. I have just arrived from Saudi Arabia.”
“Would you just shut up and listen,” he hissed.
The man looked embarrassed when people passing by glanced at him. For a moment, she stared
directly at the man’s green eyes. It could have been my father. She tried to be numb to the situation, by
thinking about her own family’s sufferings. And never think that Allah is unaware of what the
wrongdoers do. He only delays them for a Day when eyes will stare in horrors5 she told herself. It felt
good to memorize passages of the holy Qur’an. It gave her patience, tranquillity and peace with
everything around her. She had been waiting for an hour now, and still couldn’t notice her niece
among the crowd. For many years they had been corresponding through e-mails, and recently through
Facebook. She found it important to keep in touch with relatives abroad, especially when they were of
the same age. Amira was residing in Cairo because the university she studied at was too far from the
village her parents and siblings were living in. As Rana reached for her mobile phone, she saw a girl
with a flimsy purple scarf decorated with small pink beads running into her direction. It was her niece
Amira.
“Habibty!6 I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, kissing Rana on the cheeks.
Rana smiled. She hadn’t seen her niece for at least eleven years.
“I missed you too, wallahi7. I’m very sorry,” Rana said. She felt a slight prick of tears behind her
eyelids. It was true. She was really in Egypt.
“Sorry for what? I’m so happy to see you!”
“Thank you. I mean I am sorry for not visiting you before,” she said awkwardly, realizing her father’s
absence.
4
A polite way to address a police agent
Translation of aQuranic verse
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My love
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I swear by Allah
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“It’s not your fault. We all know what happened to uncle Salah,” Amira said, after a moment’s
hesitation.
Rana nodded knowingly.
The noisy crowded streets, the hordes of people, the hooking cars, the enormous mosques whose
Imams were calling the people to prayer through loudspeakers, the shops decorated with flickering
lights and the loud voices of the Egyptians made Rana feel home again. This was Egypt. This was her
home. These were her people, her compatriots. Loud music washed over her like a fresh wave pouring
over and through people. It was Umm Kulthum8, the voice of Egypt. She wanted to ignore the song,
trying to think about something else, but the sound was too loud. Louder than the constant roar of
traffic. Louder than the wind that was whistling through the palm trees. Louder than her own voice.
Ana in qadaral ilaahu mamaati
Len tara sharqa yarfa’o ra’sa ba’di
Ma ramaani raama wa raaha saleeman
‘Inaajatulllaaah jundi
Kam baghat dawla alaya wa djaarat
Thoma zaalat wa tilka ‘oqba tahadi
If the Lord decrees my death,
You will never see the East proudly raising its head
Never did someone throw me and safely go away
Because my army is the Care of God
How many times did a country transgress against me
Then it was eliminated, and this is the punishment of defiance.
“There are massive demonstrations today,” Amira says as they enter her room. “I don’t even know
what really happened. It’s National Police Day and many people are demonstrating against the
celebration of this day. National Police Day. National Police Day! What a joke! What do they want to
celebrate? The murder of Khaled Said?”
“Yeah, you’re right. But I guess the government will send them some thugs who will make
them go home again.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because it has always been like that.”
“Oh, you never know. Maybe our Lord has a bigger plan for us,” Amira said, playing with her hair
and rolling it around her fingers.
“Well, let’s hope so—”
“You sound as though you don’t have any trust in God,” Amira said jokingly.
“No, it’s not that. I mean, it’s difficult to beat a disease that has been spreading itself for thirty years.”
“No it isn’t. Allah ma’ana9.”
“Do you mind if I take a rest?” Rana asked. She lay face down on the bed, pulling the clean white
sheet up to her chin. For a while, she listened to the muffled sound of a television coming from an
apartment above her, slowly sinking into sleep.
“Rana, wake up. Bsor’a10.” Amira’s tone was calm.
Rana opened her eyes slightly and sighed. Tortured by thirst, she felt her head spinning.
“Yes? What?” she asked, struggling to get the words out of her dried mouth. She felt caught in a net
of conflicting thoughts. “Why? Why? Ya Allah 11help me,” she mumbled. She felt guilty; she was in
Egypt and her father wasn’t.
One of Egypt’s most famous singers.
Allah is with us
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Quickly
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O God
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“Rana what’s with you?” Amira whispered. She pulled up a plastic chair and sat next to her, holding
her hand. “You can tell me everything.”
“Nothing Amira. Nothing.”
“Stop staring at the ceiling. Please, tell me.”
“I just can’t...”
“Why are you crying, Rana?” She drew herself closer to her.
“ It’s killing me, Amira. It’s killing me. You know what I’m talking about,” she cried. “For years he
has been crying over what happened to him. Crying over what once had been. Crying. Longing to see
his country. Do you know how he felt when he learned from his sisters that his mother had passed
away? He couldn’t bury her. He couldn’t visit his family members. He couldn’t cry in the arms of his
brothers and sisters. Alone in Houslow. Without a decent job. Is this what he had been studying for?
To live a wretched life? To be looked down on by others? How does it feel to be despised by people
who are less educated than you? To be devalued because of your inability to speak English like the
natives do? Tell me!”
“Come on, Rana. Cheer up, please.” Amira said, stroking her hair gently.
“Do you think we’re happy there in Europe? Do you think we’re swimming in money?”
“I never said that.”
“The regime ruined our life. It took away our money. Our country. Our happiness—”
“Rana, do you know that today two demonstrators were shot dead?”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She wiped away her tears with the corner of her sweater.
“I know. But they say a revolution is coming. Just like in Tunisia.”
“Did you watch the news?”
“Yes, that’s why I woke you up.”
They ran over to the television and sank to their knees. The opposition leader Ayman Nour was on
television. He told the Al Jazeera reporter that it was time for Mubarak to leave. The camera zoomed
out from his face and captured the faces of a group of demonstrators. They were holding big posters
with written messages: “Bread, Freedom and Dignity,” “Leave! Leave,” “We’re all Khaled Said,”
“Game over,” “Down with Hosni Mubarak,” and “Egypt above all.” Most of the demonstrators were
youngsters, but there were also many elderly people among the crowd. The camera zoomed out again
to reveal the magnitude of the demonstrations. A human sea of people appeared. Then hundreds of
people were running through the streets, swaying their arms and chanting with intensity: “Horeya
Horeya Horeya12.” They were chased after by aggressive policemen who were dressed in black,
armed with dark truncheons. Some protesters were arrested, others were harshly beaten. Suddenly a
red text appeared on the TV screen: “Breaking News: two protesters killed in Suez.”
“O my God. Again?” Amira said in anguish. She picked up a red veil that had been dumped next to the
TV cabinet and threw it out of anger.
“Damn him! Damn Mubarak,” Rana cursed.
Despite her anger about the situation, a tiny spark of hope was growing inside Rana. Perhaps
these demonstrations would lead to change and even to the overthrow of the regime. Would it be
possible? Would they be able to beat the disease? Would her father finally return to his country
without being persecuted? It was a strange thought that occupied her mind for a few moments. Maybe
she could help the demonstrators. A hand upon a hand lifts up13, she thought. It was risky, probably
dangerous, and no doubt her family would disapprove of her choice. But she was in Egypt, and no one
could really stop her. What if her niece wanted to join the demonstrations along with her? It would be
an ideal situation if Amira guided her through the narrow streets of Cairo.
28 January 2011
The phone was ringing. Without checking the name, Rana already knew who was calling.
“Rana, I beg you please. Come home,” her father said. His words were carefully chosen.
“I’m fine ya Babba14. Why should I come home?”
“Ya Benti, come home,” he retorted.
12
Freedom
Egyptian expression resembling the English expression “many hands make light work.”
14
Father
13
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“No, I don’t want to come home.”
“Do you know what’s happening now? It’s too dangerous for you.”
“I’m ok, Ya Babba. Ma feesh haga15.”
“Swear by God you will not go to the street.”
“Oh, please. Babba, you can trust me. Why would I use the holy name of God for such
nonsense.”
“Give me Amira! Now!”
“Babba, I’ll try to book a flight. As soon as possible.”
She walked over to Amira’s desk, gesturing to her to be quiet. “Amira is the bathroom. I will let her
call you when she gets out. I love you, Babba. ”
In front of the mirror, Rana drew her long braid out. Her long black hair fell down her back. She
looked deeply into her own bright hazel eyes. The eyes that taught her to regret the wounds of her
past. The eyes that deprived her of sleep last night. The eyes that longed to see it, to face it, and to live
it: Egypt. She was ten when she had to flee it. Now she could fight for her Egypt. Fight for her dream.
People’s lives are in the hands of God, she told herself. It will be worth it. Her sad eyes glanced
thoughtfully at her hand. They had never been held by a lover, perhaps they never would be, she didn’t
know. She had always wished to love and be loved, in the way the innumerable romantic Arabic songs
referred to it. Love. She had never known what it really was. No real experience. Only flirtations and
some compliments in the past. “Pretty girl with beautiful eyes,” or “Ya Gameel16” some Arab men in
her Britain called her. She thought them stupid, vacant and silly. For her, Islamic marriage was the
solution, prescribed by God. And among His signs is this, that He created for you mates from among
yourselves, that you may dwell in tranquility with them, and He has put love and mercy between your
hearts. Verily in that are signs for those who reflect17. She yearned for love, real love. No repeated
false promises or empty talks, but sincere love. Just someone who shared a soul with you and loved
you for the sake of God. She believed that such men really existed, but they were few. There were men
who supported their wife in every way and who stood by her side. A man who kept loving and
helping his disabled wife, for example. This was what she called real love. Could someone really love
her for who she was? Her father of course. But many men were wolves; many were untrustworthy,
selfish, sinister, careless, narcissistic and cruel. She thought back about how her best friend Layla had
found out that her husband cheated on her with her niece. In front of other people, she pretended to be
cool about it, but only Rana knew what was running in her mind. She had done everything for her
husband; she defied her own family in marrying him, moved to another city, leaving her job, family
and friends. She did everything that a woman could do for her husband, but it became clear that it was
all for nothing. Layla returned to her own city, started working like a demon, then collapsed. “May
Allah grant me a good husband,” Rana said in herself. She wrapped Amira’s red veil around her head,
fastening it with white-coloured pins. Her oval face looked more round now, and the red colour of the
veil made her eye colour much brighter. She had to start wearing a veil now, even if it was just for a
temporary time. What if something happened, and God asked her on the Day of Judgement why she
didn’t wear the cloth He had prescribed? What would she answer? “Sorry God, I thought myself too
beautiful and I was into fashion?” She had to prepare herself for the Day she would meet God.
Amira’s high voice coming from the corridor interrupted her thoughts. “Rana. Yalla18, let’s
demonstrate and kick these criminals out.”
It was time for her to go.
30 January 2011
About 200 meters from Tahrir square, there was a tiny little mosque called Masjid Umar ibn alKhattab. Since the beginning of the revolution, the mosque had been used to store water, food and
medicine. There were the fully-covered women of the Salafist groups and the Muslim brotherhood
There’s nothing
O beauty
17
Translated verse from Quran
18
Let’s go, or hurry
15
16
13
handing out water and treating the wounds of the protesters; these Islamist groups were well-organised
and provided help for every citizen in need. It was crowded and chaotic; the cry of panic was in every
corner. Desperate mothers were crying for their children, wounded men were yelling out of fear. Some
girls were lying on the ground, breathing in and out with difficulty. Their eyes were tightly pressed
together. “I feel dizzy...tear gas,” one of the girls moaned.
In the corners of the mosque lay the bodies of the protesters who had died there. Doctors were hastily
passing over these bodies. The mutilated body of a young man lay in the front of one of the corners.
Many bullets had hit his body, opening it up and revealing his intestines. The view looked like that of
a sadistic horror movie. Next to his body lay the body of a young woman. Her red veil was carelessly
wrapped around her hair. Her hands lay softly on her body. Her eyes were closed and the shape of her
lips resembled a smile. As if she longed to die. As if death was the ultimate salvation. There were
some scratches on her face and the small amount of blood that had been flowing out began to dry.
Even her dead and wounded body revealed her striking beauty. She was bent Moot, the daughter of
Death19; they said that some people were too special and too beautiful for life. Death would quickly
take them in its arms from the corrupt and cruel world. This was probably the case with this girl.
Inside her pocket was a tightly folded letter. It was addressed to someone she cared about.
Dear father,
I know you’re probably angry with me. Maybe even disappointed, because I didn’t listen to you. You
know I have nearly always listened to you. You’re my beloved father. But I had to face the regime. I
couldn’t sit in a safe room and watch my people die. I couldn’t let this chance pass. You know it’s a
great chance to get our country back, our country that has been stolen for almost thirty years. You
would have done the same, if you were here. I hope there will be a day all Egyptians can say that
Egypt is theirs. I know it’s dangerous, but I’m sure it’s worth it. Even if I die, then at least I have done
something for Egypt, and of course for you. I hope I’ll stay in life, but If God wants me to die, and it’s
better for me, then all I can say is: to God we belong and to Him shall we return20. If something
happens, then I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You’re the best father a girl can
wish. I can’t forget your care, and the fact you denied everything for yourself in order to give me a
comfortable and luxurious life. I can’t forget the image of you, walking in worn clothes, yet allowing
me to get everything I wished. I want to emphasize that it’s not only about money; the strength of your
love is all that counts. I want to add that your wish came true, as I decided to wear the Hijab21. I know
you didn’t want to impose it on me, something I really appreciated, especially when I realize that the
main reason why we had to flee our country was because you belonged to an Islamic group. I want to
stress that I didn’t do it for you, but for God. I love you my father. Ta7ya Masr22.
19
Egyptian phrase for a beautiful or special boy/girl who dies early
Islamic expression indicating that everyone will die, as everything is created by God
21
Islamic headscarf
22
Long live Egypt
20
14
Reflection
I decided to focus on two Arab-British writers with a Muslim background, Leila Aboulela and Ahdaf
Soueif. It was not difficult to recognize the typical Arabic culture and language in their work, because
of my Egyptian background. I chose the Egyptian revolution, because it’s a recent topic in which
many people are interested, and I have followed the events more closely than the average European
citizen, as I had access to Egyptian and Arab television, and I knew a lot about the topic before the
uprising took place. However, I kept in mind that Leila Aboulela and Ahdaf Soueif tend to connect the
East with the West, describing the interaction between people from the Western world and the MiddleEast. This is the reason why I chose an Arab character that has been living in West. Like both Soueif
and Aboulela’s literary works, I decided not to make it an overtly religious novel; Of course, some
may find it a good example of how a religious novel should be; however, this novel also contains
secular themes such as politics, love etc. It is not about a religion itself, explaining religious matters,
or telling Quranic stories, but about a British Muslim girl who takes part in an anti-government
demonstration. In addition, I wrote about the religious experiences of British Muslims. For example,
when Rana observes injustice, she thinks about a Quranic passage dealing with this matter. This can be
regarded as a religious experience, because thinking about God’s revenge on the Day of Judgment is
of course a religious feeling. At the same time, while quoting these passages, I followed Leila
Aboulela in her use of Islamic texts. Another religious experience is the way Rana thinks about the
Islamic headscarf. Like many Muslim girls, she believes that it is obligatory according to Islam. In
addition, I imitated Ahdaf Soueif’s manner to describe her feelings about her country Egypt. I decided
to write down a typical Egyptian setting in the way I experience it when I enter Egypt: the hustle and
bustle, the music, the traffic, some policemen who act like dictators etc. Ahdaf Soueif does the same.
Her work aims to describe Egypt as if one is visiting it, and people with an Egyptian background like
me are able to recognize the experiences Ahdaf Soueif writes about. The Independent, for instance,
comments positively on her description of Egypt: “’Soueif is at her most eloquent on the subject of her
homeland, her prose rich with historical detail and debate. Egypt emerges as the true heroine of this
novel’” (Preface, the Map of Love). I tried to imitate this by creating a nationalistic atmosphere,
translating a passage from Egypt speaks about itself, a famous nationalistic poem written by the
Egyptian poet Hafez Ibrahim. This is in accordance with Soueif and Aboulela’s intertextual reference
to Arab writers. I was also of the opinion that this passage really fits the story, as it is about the
country Egypt that is speaking about itself, complaining, for example, about the way it has been
treated for years. I also translated the poem to convey the beauty of Egyptian literature. On the other
hand, Aboulela and Soueif also refer to Western writers, something I did too. In Soueif’s The Map of
Love, Soueif quotes an Arab or Western writer before every chapter. I quoted Huey Newton ‘s text
about revolutions, as my story is about a young woman who takes part in the Egyptian revolution.
Like Ahdaf Soueif, I used love, Islamism and politics as themes in my short story. While Ahdaf
Soueif explains the rise of Islamic groups and Islamism, I decide to describe Islamism as an important
part of Egyptian society, especially in this time: for example bearded men, fully-covered women,
Islamism as part of the Egyptian opposition, and the fact that there are Islamist groups that offer help
to Egyptian citizens. I wanted to give Islamists pleasant characteristics, as I tend to show things from a
different, perhaps Islamic perspective. The way love is described in The Map of Love differs from the
love that I have used in my story. Whereas Ahdaf Soueif clearly views love as a passionate and
romantic phenomena, I try to demonstrate that love can be between a girl and her father; it doesn’t
have to be passionate love between a man and a woman. I also tried to give an image of the way some
religious Muslim girls might view love. It can be said that it resembles the way Aboulela uses love in
her works, which is love based on admiration for someone’s character rather than passionate, maybe
even sexual love which can be found in Soueif’s novel In the Eye of the Sun. Moreover, “The Map of
Love makes numerous references not only to real historical figures in Egyptian nationalist politics, but
also to actual women travellers..”(Luo 85). I imitated Ahdaf Soueif’s use of existing Egyptian
personalities by putting opposition leader Ayman Nour in an Al Jazeera broadcast. This makes the
story more realistic. As mentioned before, translation plays an important role in my short story. I did
not only translate Egyptian poems, but I also translated Egyptian proverbs as Aboulela does. For
instance, the proverbs “a hand above a hand lifts up” means that the more people are involve the more
they will succeed in their mission. Another example of the literal translation of Egyptian sentences is
15
the expression “daughter of death”, which aims to explain why young and good people die in this
world. Ahdaf Soueif herself comments on her experimentations with the Arab and English language
by saying: “In The Map of Love there is a constant attempt to render Arabic into English, not just to
translate phrases, but to render something of the dynamic of Arabic, how it works into English. So
there is this question of how to open a window into another culture” (Luo 82). In addition, Ahdaf
Soueif also uses Arab words in her text, perhaps to create a more Arabic atmosphere. I often used
Arabic words in my text, trying to put these words in a context that enables the reader to guess the
words. A specific example of the a context that allows the non-Arab reader to guess the meaning of an
Arabic word is my sentence: “Amira’s high voice coming from the corridor interrupted her thoughts.
“Rana. Yalla23, let’s demonstrate and kick these criminals out.” Another example is the word Babba
that is used during a phone conversation between Rana and her father. I imitated Aboulela in her use
of Islamic phrases and Arabic words that carry a meaning that refers to Islamic faith. A good example
of this imitation is the Islamic phrase “to God we belong and to him shall we return” and the Arabic
phrase “Allah ma’ana.”
23
Let’s go, or hurry
16
WORKS CITED LIST
Abbas, Sadia. “Leila Aboulela, Religion, and the Challenge of the Novel.” 52.3 (2011): 430461.
Contemporary Literature. Web. 2 Jan. 2012.
Aboulela, Leila. Lyrics Alley. Canada: Harper Collins, 2011. Print.
Aboulela, Leila. The Translator. Edinburg: Scottish Art Council, 2011. Print.
Albakry, M. and P. Hancock. “Code switching in Ahdaf Soueif's The Map of Love.” 17.3 (2008):221234. Language and Literature. Web. 2 Jan. 2012.
Chambers, Claire. British Muslim Fictions. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Print.
Hassan, W.S. “Leila Aboulela and the Ideology of Muslim Immigrant Fiction.” 41.2 (2008):
298330. Novel: a Forum on Fiction. Web. 2 Jan. 2012.
Luo, Shao -Pin. “Rewriting Travel: Ahdaf Soueif ’s The Map of Love and Bharati Mukherjee’s The
Holder of the World.” 38.2 (2003): 70-89. The Journal of Commonwealth Literature. Web. 28
March. 2012.
Souif, Ahdaf. The Map of Love. Sydney: Anchor Books, 1999. Print.
Souif, Ahdaf. In the Eye of the Sun. California: the University of California, 2000. Print.
Webb, Allen. Teaching the Literature of Today’s Middle East. New York: Routledge,
17
VERKLARING: INTELLECTUEEL EIGENDOM
De Universiteit Utrecht definieert het verschijnsel “plagiaat” als volgt:
Van plagiaat is sprake bij het in een scriptie of ander werkstuk gegevens of tekstgedeelten van anderen
overnemen zonder bronvermelding. Onder plagiaat valt onder meer:
het knippen en plakken van tekst van digitale bronnen zoals encyclopedieën of digitale tijdschriften
zonder aanhalingstekens en verwijzing;
het knippen en plakken van teksten van het internet zonder aanhalingstekens en verwijzing;
het overnemen van gedrukt materiaal zoals boeken, tijdschriften of encyclopedieën zonder
aanhalingstekens of verwijzing;
het opnemen van een vertaling van bovengenoemde teksten zonder aanhalingstekens en verwijzing;
het parafraseren van bovengenoemde teksten zonder verwijzing. Een parafrase mag nooit bestaan uit
louter vervangen van enkele woorden door synoniemen;
het overnemen van beeld-, geluids- of testmateriaal van anderen zonder verwijzing en zodoende laten
doorgaan voor eigen werk;
het overnemen van werk van andere studenten en dit laten doorgaan voor eigen werk. Indien dit
gebeurt met toestemming van de andere student is de laatste medeplichtig aan plagiaat;
ook wanneer in een gezamenlijk werkstuk door een van de auteurs plagiaat wordt gepleegd, zijn de
andere auteurs medeplichtig aan plagiaat, indien zij hadden kunnen of moeten weten dat de ander
plagiaat pleegde;
het indienen van werkstukken die verworven zijn van een commerciële instelling (zoals een internetsite
met uittreksels of papers) of die tegen betaling door iemand anders zijn geschreven.
Ik heb de bovenstaande definitie van het verschijnsel “plagiaat” zorgvuldig gelezen, en verklaar hierbij
dat ik mij in het aangehechte essay / werkstuk niet schuldig heb gemaakt aan plagiaat.
Naam:
Studentnummer:
Plaats:
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Datum:
Handtekening: