The Yacoubian Building - Alaa Al Aswany

Title: The Yacoubian Building (Imarat Ya'qubyan in Arabic)

Author: Alaa Al Aswany (translated by Humphrey Davies)

Year: 2002

Country: Egypt

Pages: 253

Rating: 5 out of 5

First sentence: The distance between Baehler Passage, where Zaki Bey el Dessouki lives, and his office in the Yacoubian building is not more than a hundred meters, but it takes him an hour to cover it each morning as he is obliged to greet his friends on the street.

In The Yacoubian Building, a look at the residents of the title's namesake reveals the overlapping layers of Egyptian culture and politics. They represent the multiple facets of modern Egyptian society: the old, the new, and everything in between. 

Zaki Bey el Dessouki, one of the Yacoubian building's longest-residing tenants, is the son of a former prime minister, and was one of Egypt's wealthiest men before the Revolution. 

Busayna tried pushing him gently so they could cross the street, but he went on, "You know,Busayna, I feel as though I owned the Yacoubian Building. I'm the longest resident in it. I know the history of every individual and every square meter in the building. I've spent most of my life in it. I lived my best days in it and I feel as though it's a part of me. The day this building's demolished or something happens to it, that'll be the day I die." (p. 165)

Hatim Rasheed is the homosexual son of aristocrats, whose mother is French. Hagg Azzam is nouveau rich, a self-made millionaire who started out as an immigrant shoe shiner on the streets of Cairo. Taha el Shazli, the doorkeeper's son, is an observant Muslim who is lured to fundamentalism after his dream of becoming a police officer is denied to him due to his family's poverty and low social status. Busayna, Taha's childhood sweetheart, also resides on the rooftop of the Yacoubian building and is subject to overwhelming sexual harrassment as she struggles as the sole income-earner for her mother and siblings.

The sheer number of main characters followed throughout the story can at times be hard to follow, but is well worth the frequent reference to the "Cast of Characters" given at the beginning of the novel. The story paints a vivid and insightful portrait of Egyptian society for the reader, and sets a high standard (along with Naguib Mahfouz) for some of the other Egyptian literature I have on my TBR pile.

About the real Yacoubian building: The Yacoubian building does exist at the address given in the novel. A six-story building, it was built by Nishan Yacoubian, an Armenian, in the 1930's.

Also reviewed by:

Musings

Lotus Reads

Bookgirl's Nightstand

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

Title: The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

Author: Alexander McCall Smith

Country: Zimbabwe/UK

Year: 1998

Pages: 235 pgs.

Rating: 5 out of 5

First sentence: Mma Ramotswe had a detective agency in Africa, at the foot of Kgale Hill.

Agatha Christie's Miss Marple has long been my favorite on the mystery scene. However, she now has strong competition with Mma (Precious) Ramotswe, the one and only lady detective in all of Botswana.

After her father's death, Mma Ramotswe sells her inheritance, a herd of cows, to set up shop as a detective in Gaborone, Botswana. Her agency, The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, is the only one of its kind, and it is not too long before clients begin seeking out her services. This book, the first in the series, seems to be laying the groundwork for future adventures.

Precious Ramotswe is a delight! She is a warm, compassionate, intuitive African lady, and is the embodiment of all that modern Africa is striving to be. With a love for the red desert earth she grew up next to, she is proud of her country, and I loved to read about her reflections of Botswanan life.  Her sense of humor is contagious, and I look forward to reading more of the series. And, although I have been to South Africa before (Mma Ramotswe lives very close to the Botswana/South Africa border), I can now add Botswana to the list of countries I would like to visit!

Links - Nuruddin Farah

Title: Links
Author: Nuruddin Farah
Country: Somalia
Year: 2004
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pages: 336

First sentence: "Guns lack the body of human truths!"

It has been 15 years since the Somali state collapsed, when the dictator Said Barre fled Mogadishu in 1991, and Somalia continues to remain a failed state, with no effective government. Continuing to be neglected or ignored by the international community, Somalia has no rule of law or justice system, and very little of its infrastructure remains functioning or intact. As recently as 2006, active warfare broke out between the warlords and militia, with the backing of Ethiopia. This is the setting in which Links takes place, Mogadishu of the mid-1990's. Unfortunately not very different from the Mogadishu of today.

Jeebleh arrives in a Mogadishu vastly different from the one he left twenty years ago. On landing at an airport now under the control of a warlord, Af-Laawe, a man unknown to him that was sent by someone unknown to pick him up, greets Jeebleh with 'Guns lack the body of human truths!' At his hotel, when asking to make an international phone call, he is visited by a one-man phone operator that carries a satellite phone in his bag. Jeebleh does not know what to make of his devastated city, nor how to understand those who live in it. He arrives in Mogadishu with the goal of finding his mother's grave, and finding his friend Bile's niece, who has been abducted. Through Jeebleh's self-righteousness, parallel to the American military intervention, Farah asks the question of how does a person be good and just in a city that is a murderous vacuum.

Links is a psychological quagmire, a reflection of Mogadishu itself. Through Jeebleh's perspective, an exiled Somali now considered an outsider by many of his fellow Somalis that never left the country, we witness the ambiguities of clan violence, hazy alliances, and conflicted values that characterizes the Somali civil war. Through the story of Jeebleh's close friends and acquaintances Farah demonstrates the violence in Mogadishu as a reflection of the disorder in the home, and the impossibility of separating the political from the personal.

This portrayal of tangled clan loyalties and its effect on society is one of the greatest strengths of the novel. His description of war-torn Mogadishu and the personal stories of those whose daily lives are surrounded by such extreme violence, is harrowing and poignant. I was particularly affected by a passage about a mother who describes the day her daughter was permanently injured by an American helicopter:

"I became hysterical," she continued, "and tore at my bare breast, where my daughter had been nursing. I wailed, I wept, I cursed, I prayed, but to no avail. I tore at my clothes, until I disrobed, convinced that my child had been swallowed up in the sand raised by the helicopter's sudden arrival. Then I saw the shape of evil. Rangers pointing at my nakedness and laughing. I stopped wailing, and covered my indecency, and then cursed the mothers who bore these Rangers. I've never glimpsed worse evil than those men cupping their hands at me, their tongues out, pointing at my nakedness." (p.276)

I do wonder why Farah chose English, his 4th language, as the medium to write. At times, the conversations and plot seems awkward, and I leave the novel failing to understand any of the major characters. Despite this weakness, Links remains a telling story of those who have become collateral damage in a cycle of violence.

"A cynic I know says that thanks to the vultures, the marabous, and the hawks, we have no fear of diseases spreading," one of Jeebleh's contacts says. "My cynical friend suggests that when the country is reconstituted as a functioning state, we should have a vulture as our national symbol."

Purple Hibiscus

Title: Purple Hibiscus
Author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Country: Nigeria
Year: 2003
Rating: A
Pages: 307 pgs.

First sentence: Things started to fall apart at home when my brother, Jaja, did not go to communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the etagere.

Kambili and her older brother, Jaja, live under the shadow of their fanatically religious father, Eugene. A highly respected man in the community who stands up for injustice and donates vasts sums of money, Eugene is an expert at hiding the violence and strict obedience he uses to force his family to comply with his unrealistic ideals of duty and religion. It is not until Kambili and Jaja visit their aunt, Aunty Ifeoma, and cousins, that both begin to break the spell under which their family is held.

Purple Hibiscus is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's debut novel, and it is a masterpiece. I was particularly struck by one particular image. In the beginning of the novel, Kambili and Jaja communicate to each other with their eyes, as their tongues our silenced under the oppression of their father. As the story progresses, and both siblings open up to the world shown to them by Aunty Ifeoma, their silence lessens, as the physical act of speaking is made easier. 'I laughed. It sounded strange, as if I were listening to the recorded laughter of a stranger being played back. I was not sure I had ever heard myself laugh.' (p. 179) I will definitely be watching for further works by this amazing author.

'Papa changed his accent when he spoke, sounding British, just as he did when he spoke to Father Benedict. He was gracious, in the eager-to-please way that he always assumed with the religious, especially with the white religious.' (p. 46)

'Everything came tumbling down after Palm Sunday. Howling winds came with an angry rain, uprooting frangipani trees in the front yard. They lay on the lawn, their pink and white flowers grazing the grass, their roots waving lumpy soil in the air...Even the silence that descended on the house was sudden, as though the old silence had broken and left us with the sharp pieces.' (p.257)

Desert Flower

Title: Desert Flower
Author: Waris Dirie
Year: 1998
Rating: C
Pages: 228 pgs
Book is from: Public Library

Desert Flower is the autobiography of Waris Dirie, a fashion model and human rights activist. Waris was raised in a nomadic Somali family. Until the approximate age of 13, she slept out under the stars every night, had never used a toilet, and subsisted mainly on camel's milk. When confronted with marrying a 60-year old man, she fled her home, leaving behind her beloved mother and siblings, and walked across hundreds of miles of desert to a new life. The story follows her through her time in Mogadishu, living in London as a maid for the Somali ambassador, and her discovery and catapult into the world of modelling.

I was really disappointed with this book, but it was very interesting to read it with the story of Aman so fresh in my mind. There are numerous discrepancies between both books, with each claiming certain traditions/lifestyles as the "Somali way of life". Yet, unlike Aman, Waris makes very little acknowledgement of separate ways of life in Somalia between city/bush and different tribes and minority groups. There are also some gaps in her story that seem to have been left out.

Another of my gripes? The language. Now, I am a VERY liberal person, and also the first to admit I can spew some unwarranted obscenities when angry. But the foul language in this book felt very artificial and vulgar to me. It completely detracted from the story. A small redemption? The breath that brings this book to life is the descriptions of how FGM has affected Waris' life, and her shift in becoming a strong and passionate advocate for women's rights in both Africa and Muslim cultures.

On seeing white people for the first time:
While I unwrapped and devoured my candy, I examined the white people around me. They looked cold and sickly to me. "You need sun," I would have said to them if I had known English; I assumed this problem was a temporary condition. They couldn't always look like that, could they? These people must have turned white because they'd been out of the sun too long.

On returning to Africa:
I ran and touched the ground and rubbed the earth between my fingers. I touched the trees. They were dusty and dry, but I knew it was time for the rains soon, then everything would blossom. I sucked the air into my lungs. It held the scents of my childhood memories, all those years when I lived outside and these desert plants and this red sand were my home. Oh, God, this was my place.

Half of a Yellow Sun

Title: Half of A Yellow Sun
Author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Year: 2006
Rating: A-
Country: Nigeria
Pages: 435 pgs. Book From: Public Library

I read Half of A Yellow Sun for my Reading Across Borders challenge. Travelling on from Austria, I hop across the Strait of Gibraltar, trekking across the Sahara to eventually arrive in Nigeria. I arrive in 1960's Nsukka, a small university town in the southeastern, largely Igbo region. Once there, I meet Odenigbo, a Nigerian professor; Olanna, his mistress who is from an elite Nigerian family; and Ugwu, a village boy that is employed as a houseboy in Odenigbo's home.

1960's Nigeria is one of turmoil. This epic story follows the plight of Odenigbo, Olanna, and Ugwu, as they are caught in the middle of the Biafran War. Following discrimination and massacres against Igbo in northern Nigeria, the south-eastern provinces of Nigeria seceeded to form their own nation of Biafra. What follows, both in history and this novel, is a brutal civil war in which hundreds of thousands lose their homes, are forced to flee numerous times, and ultimately face starvation and disease.

As Caribousmom has said, this is not a feel good novel. It is a novel about the realities of a post-colonial nation burdened by distinctions of class, race, and ethnicity. It is a novel about the horrors of war. It is a novel about death and destruction. That Chimamanda portrays such devestating topics with such depth, clarity, and compassion, is a sign of a masterpiece. And ultimately, in many ways, it is a story about love and survival.

On the creation of Biafra and secession from Nigeria:
"Olanna watched them and realized with a sweet surge that they all felt what she felt, what Odenigbo felt, as though it were liquid steel instead of blood that flowed through their veins, as though they could stand barefoot over red-hot embers."
The moment when regular people become refugees:
"Evacuate now! The federals have entered Nsukka! We are evacuating now! Right now! I am going to all the houses occupied. Evacuate now!"... "Gini? What things?" Olanna asked "What will I take?" Baby started to cry. There was the sound again, boom-boom-boom, closer and louder. "It won't be long, we'll be back soon. Just take a few things, clothes." Master gestured vaguely before he grabbed the car keys from the shelf.

On class distinction:
She hoped Professor Achara had found them accommodation close to other university people so that Baby would have the right kind of children to play with.

On war:
He writes about the world that remained silent while Biafrans died...In the United States, Biafra was "under Britain's sphere of interest." In Canada, the prime minister quipped, "Where is Biafra?" The Soviet Union sent technicians and planes to Nigeria, thrilled at the chance to influence Africa without offending America or Britain. And from their white-supremacist positions, South Africa and Rhodesia gloated at further proof that black-run governments were doomed to failure.
-and-
"The world has to know the truth of what is happening, because they simply cannot remain silent while we die."

Two new book acquisitions

This weekend brought two new books to add to my collection:
1. Standing Alone: An American Woman's Struggle for the Soul of Islam by Asra Q. Nomani
2. Links by Nuruddin Farah

Standing Alone, an early birthday gift from a good friend, is about a single mother who is Muslim, and embarks on the pilgrimmage to Mecca with her infant son. She also happens to be a friend of Daniel Pearl (the American reporter kidnapped and killed a few years ago in Pakistan). The hajj becomes her journey of empowerment. It looks like a really interesting book.

The second book, Links, I picked up at Daedalus Bookstore in Belvedere Square, one of my favorite eating and food shopping destinations in Baltimore. Written by Nuruddin Farah, he tells the fictionalized story of a Somali man, Jeebleh, and his journey from New York back to his homeland, Mogadishu, Somalia for the first time in 20 years. The story takes place in the 90's, not that long after the American peacekeepers up and left.

I am very tempted to skip the Super Bowl party and be a hermit, reading all night. :)

Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe

Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe (A) 209pgs.

Reading this book has just reinforced my dislike for Conrad's Heart of Darkness. This is a beautifully written novel describing the introduction of Europeans and Christian missionaries to the Igbo clans in Nigeria. The story focuses on the life of one man, Okonkwo, a man of fear and anger who can not seem to break himself from the emotional bonds of being the son of a "lazy" man, despite gaining respect and status in his clan for his personal achievements. Achebe does an amazing job of writing in in a style that uses Western linguistic models insterspersed with proverbs, fables, and tales that portray the oral storytelling traditions of the Igbo people.

Which brings me to my continued disdain of Heart of Darkness. I have never liked this novel, and struggled with it when I read it for my post-colonial Lit class on Semester at Sea. At the time, my prof could not accept my critique of the novel as "rubbish". :) He also did not support my statement that it should not even be included in a post-colonial lit class, considering it was written during the colonization of the Congo, by a European. I did not like the fact that Africans speak in pidgin English in the book, which is why Things Fall Apart was a breath of fresh air. Achebe writes in a style that is simple, eloquent, and dignified, and I think this novel (and certainly, Achebe himself) helps to negate the stereotype of Igbo, Nigeria, and Africa as primitive, heathen, and savage.

Some pretty cool, and thought-proviking proverbs and quotes from the book:
-"Among the Ibo the art of conversation is regarded very highly, and proverbs are the palm-oil with which words are eaten." (p.7)
-"Those whose palm-kernels were cracked for them by a benevolent spirit should not forget to be humble." (p.26)
-"There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts." (p.140)
-"It seemed as if the very soul of the tribe wept for a great evil that was coming-its own death." (p.187)

And finally, the mention of the moon-play at the time of the full moon brought back some wonderful memories of my refugee friends in Australia. A Nigerian bloke started up a full-moon tradition in which we all gathered together around a bon-fire, under the full moon, sharing creative stories, and listening to the drums. It was a tradition he brought with him from his country, in which it was a joy to share. I was happy to see a similar tradition mentioned in the book, and could see, hear, and smell exactly what Achebe was describing.