English translation of
Muhsin Al-Ramli’s novel exposes the horrors of war
Ben
East
April
18, 2017 The National
Iraqi author Muhsin
Al-Ramli
It begins with a beheading.
Then another, and another, until nine severed heads are found in a sleepy Iraqi
village. It’s a shockingly vivid introduction to the violent, chaotic world
of Muhsin Al-Ramli’s The President’s Garden.
Asking where the Iraqi
novelist got his inspiration seems an innocent enough question. Nothing
prepares you for the answer.
"On the third day of
Ramadan in 2006, I received news of the slaughter of nine of my relatives who
were fasting," Al-Ramli says. "My village found their heads in banana
crates, along with their ID cards, on the side of the main road near my family’s
house.
"That news shocked and
terrified me. I wept. I had childhood memories of playing with the owners of
these heads."
Understandably, Al-Ramli had
no idea what to do, other than to take refuge in something he knew: writing.
Six years later, The President’s Gardens was published in Arabic,
framing the stories of friends Abdullah, Tariq and Ibrahim around both their
personal tragedy and the tragedy of Iraq in the years between the war with
Iran and the aftermath of the American invasion.
It was longlisted for the 2013
International Prize for Arabic Fiction, and this week an English translation,
by Luke Leafgren, is finally published. It is a stunning achievement.
"I wanted to say that the
victims were not just numbers to be tallied up in newspapers, but each was an
entire world in themselves," he says of his aims for the book.
"They were people with
families, memories and dreams, and it was the ugliest injustice to slaughter
this entire world and forget it so nonchalantly in a matter of minutes."
For all that death is ever
present in Al-Ramli’s book, his real achievement is to make the characters of
Tariq, Ibrahim and Abdullah so full of life, believable and even relatable.
Their relationships somehow endure despite the heavy toll of simply living in
Iraq.
"That’s the relationship
that victims have with each other," says Al-Ramli.
"They are examples of common,
everyday people, the pattern for millions of Iraqis upon whom injustice has
fallen. They pay a heavy price on account of the dictatorship, the customs, the
traditions, the wars, the sanctions, and so on – all without having any guilt
or any choice in the matter."
Abdullah’s journey gives the
book its title: he ends up tending the Iraqi president’s sumptuous garden –
but of course digging holes in the Earth is not as innocuous a task as it might
seem under his rule.
It’s interesting that Saddam
Hussein’s name is never mentioned, which has the effect of allowing The President’s
Garden to work as a comment on any totalitarian regime.
"Yes, that’s right,"
Al-Ramli agrees.
"Except there is also a personal
reason: I do not want to mention Saddam Hussein by name in any of my literary
works, he being the one who killed my brother and many of my relatives.
"I feel that doing so
would pollute my texts. In my works, you might find names for everything – even
for a donkey – but you won’t find his."
Al-Ramli fled Iraq for Jordan
after "three nightmarish years in the Iraqi army", then left for
Spain in 1995, where he lives now.
There is a chilling line in
the book that seems to sum up what it must have been like to live through that
period in lraq, as Abdullah tells Ibrahim: "There’s no way that death
could be worse than life".
"When the Iraq-Iran War began,
I was 13 years old, and the corpses of the slain arrived every day," says
Al-Ramli.
"Death has continued without
a pause until today, for my village has been under the control of Daesh for
two-and-a-half years.
"Because of the multitude
of ugly ways to die in Iraq, most people longed for a natural death – indeed, I
heard my mother pray to God that he would make her die.
"I myself longed for
death numerous times."
While he has suffered more
than most of us could imagine in our worst nightmares, somehow The
President’s Gardens manages to celebrate the humanity of its protagonists.
"There’s no life without
hope," Al-Ramli reminds me, and the possibility that Leafgren’s
translation might now reach a much wider audience is a thrilling chink of
light.
"It will bring the voices
of my people, along with their sufferings, to the greatest number of people in
the world," he says.
"The sense among victims
that others know and feel their pain will ease that suffering and let them feel
a kind of human solidarity."
The book also ends on a
"to be continued", and Al-Ramli reveals he is halfway through a
sequel. Its tone might surprise a few people.
"I believe the sequel
will be more enjoyable, more suspenseful," he says.
"I will make the reader
laugh more than cry this time, not because what happens is funny, but because
when tragedy reaches its most painful climax, sometimes there is nothing we
can do after the tears except laugh."
•The President’s Gardens by Muhsin Al-Ramli, translated by Luke
Leafgren, published by MacLehose Press, is out April 19
The President’s Gardens by Muhsin Al-Ramli,
translated by Luke Leafgren
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario