Categories

Showing posts with label Literature and Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Literature and Art. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Mogadishu in Arabia.- Somali influence on arabic exile literature

By: Xavier Luffin


“People don’t know what it means to become an Arab at six years old,” writes Somali author Mohammad Ali Diriye on the back cover of his short story collection, Ila Karakas bila ‘awdah (One way to Caracas). Born in Somalia, Diriye went into exile at a young age, and studied in Saudi Arabia and Sudan — formative experiences in his literary career that have deeply influenced his contributions to contemporary Arabic fiction. 

Like other emerging Somali diaspora authors, Diriye deals with the familiar themes of war and exile, but from a new perspective. Unlike Arabic writers in Beirut or Baghdad, he uses the Arabic language to describe another civil war, on the other shore of the Red Sea. In his writing about about exile, which he describes as “the narrative of an Arab pirate,” the Arab world is no longer the point of departure but the destination.

In La‘nat al-janub (“The Curse of the South”), a short story I recently translated into English, a man leaves his homeland — Somalia is not explicitly named — and starts a new life in Saudi Arabia. The man tries to forget everything in relation with the land of his ancestors, but at the end of the day, his efforts prove futile: remnants of Somalia persist in his mind, against his will. Despite the fact that Diriye doesn’t directly mention Somalia or the civil war in the story, they still linger all over the text. Indeed, their very omission evokes a traumatic lapse in memory.

The relationship to exile is expressed not only geographically but linguistically as well. “The Curse of the South” makes two references to the Arabic language. The first one deals with the dialectal variation observed by the narrator traveling inside the Arabian Peninsula: “When he passed Najran and arrived at the Saudi territory, he was bothered by the revolt of the letters just over the border. The pure q south of the border had become an ugly g in the North. He was afraid that all the other letters of the Arabic alphabet would change along the road to the North.” The narrator feels uncomfortable with this change; he seems to lose his landmarks once again. 

He has learned and adopted Arabic, while trying at the same time to forget his mother tongue, but now he discovers that his new language may adopt other forms. It is as if his quest for balance never ends. At the end of the text, the same character suffers a fever contracted in his homeland, and the mother tongue that he had tried in vain to forget overrides Arabic: “the delirium didn’t expose him to the others, because he was raving in his mother tongue, which has nothing to do with Arabic, except for the names.” The language, taken here as a metaphor for the homeland, reminds us that one can never deny or erase his roots.
For decades, civil war and migration have been addressed in Arabic literature by many talented novelists from countries such as Egypt, Morocco, Lebanon, and Iraq. It is only recently, however, that Somali writers have started producing major works of fiction in Arabic.

These authors introduce uniquely Somali perspectives to an Arab readership, including in their texts words, sentences and even songs quoted in Somali, along with tackling issues that are not often discussed in the Arab world. Up until 2010, Maxamed Daahir Afrax’s 1976 novel, Nida’ al-hurriyyah (The Call of Freedom) was the only printed work of Arabic fiction by a Somali author. In Beirut in 2011, Diriye published One way to Caracas, and in 2013 he won the sixth Sharjah Literary Prize for an upcoming novel. Another Somali author, Zuhra Mursal, published Amirah ma‘a iqaf al-tanfidh (A Princess with the Stay of Execution) in Cairo in 2012. In addition, dozens of other Somali writers have published Arabic short stories, poems, and book chapters about exile online, on communal websites like Somali Future and al-Shahid.

These writers have a native fluency in Arabic and a deep knowledge of Arabic literary culture, but at the same time their literature maintains an intimate connection to their Somali roots. Most of them belong to the Somali diaspora in the Arabian Peninsula, as well as in other countries like Egypt or Syria, where they were educated and were often born. The emergence of this literature coincides with the rise of a generation of young Somalis who were forced to leave their homeland as a consequence of the civil war which broke out in 1991 and the socio-economic chaos it engendered. Their texts are set in Somalia and other African countries, as well as in Yemen, Saudi Arabia and Syria. In this sense, they can be compared to Western authors of Arab, African, or Asian descent writing in English, French, and other European languages, like Khalil Gibran, Diana Abu-Jaber, or Maaza Mengiste in the United States. These writers are united in that their homeland fuels their inspiration even as they tackle new issues related to their experience in exile. But for the Somali authors, the Arab world is a new destination rather than a departed homeland, and Arabic is not only a means of expression but a topic to be tackled.

Diriye and other Somali authors enrich Arabic exile literature, breathing Arabic literary references and standards into a Somalian context and widening the limits of Arabic literature. While Diriye calls himself a pirate, he’s actually more like a trader, facilitating a rich exchange across location, language, and culture.

From: Baraza

Monday, October 27, 2014

Novelist Nuruddin Farah: Facing A Blank Page Is 'Bravest Thing' A Writer Does

Nuruddin Farah's novel Hiding in Plain Sight centers around Bella, a Somali living in Rome, who has become a famed fashion photographer. Her beloved half-brother Aar, a UN official, is murdered by extremists in Mogadishu and leaves behind two teenagers who are Bella's niece and nephew.

Bella's a globetrotter, with tightly scheduled lovers and global obligations, but she feels drawn into their lives despite the opposition of Valerie — the mother who gave birth to the youngsters but left the family and doesn't know them.
Farah, a Somali-born author of 11 previous novels, talks with NPR's Scott Simon about his homeland and his biggest challenge as a writer.



On parallels between the novel and his own life

It feels almost everything that happens in Somalia is either part of my life directly or indirectly. ... What happened in this particular case is that I had done the first draft of a novel — submitted it to my publishers — when something very similar to what happened to the character Aar happened to my sister: [she was] killed in Afghanistan in a Kabul restaurant on January 19, 2014.

On the challenges of writing and loss

I go to Somalia a great deal, perhaps, in part, to feed my imagination and also to be in touch with the experiences that other Somalis go through on a daily basis. But, in terms of writing as a writer, there's always a daily challenge when one goes into one's studio to write. And the bravest thing, I think, for a writer is to face an empty page. Almost everything else is less challenging until it comes to ... someone close to you — as close as Basra was to me — fall[ing] a victim to terrorism.

On writing about Bella's photography

I actually have very little understanding of how photography works — or had very little understanding. But I had to train myself and I had to read lots and lots of books. And then, after that, had to train myself, buy a camera, and go digital/analog and do all these things.

 On the power dynamic between a photographer and his or her subject

Just as there is a power structure between the novelist and the subject the novelist is writing about — it's the novelist who decides who gets the power of speech. So, whoever puts their finger on the button that ultimately decides what happens with the camera is the one who has the power.

And anyone sitting outside of that power zone is turned into a subject. So, I could see parallel between the novelist's writing, and therefore, deciding, ultimately, the destiny of his or her characters — in the same way that the photographer decides what position to take, what light to use.

On whether he could live in Somalia 

Mogadishu has stopped being a cosmopolitan city; it was a cosmopolitan city many years ago — one of the most celebrated cosmopolitan cities. I can imagine living in Somalia, but Somalia has to change. I have changed and therefore Somalia must change. 


And that would be the case if: one, there was peace. Two, if I could live anonymously — which is not possible all the time, but it could be. And then, [three], if there are book shops and cultural stuff that one can do and get involved in. There is no such thing now. Civil war dominates everything in one's everyday life in Somalia, which is quite tragic.

From: NPR

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Somali novel shows war and hope in the eyes of women

From: Scmp

The Orchard of Lost Souls
by Nadifa Mohamed

In a seminal trilogy on the Somali dictatorship of Major General Mohamed Siad Barre, which held power in the 1970s and '80s, Somalian novelist Nuruddin Farah wrote unforgettably of the regime's fellow travelers, who "hide in the convenience of a crowd and clap".

Thirty years on Nadifa Mohamed, who was this year named one of Granta's best young British novelists, re-imagines such cheering acolytes in the opening pages of her second novel, The Orchard of Lost Souls. Her focus is on the reluctant recruits of the Guddi, the "neighborhood watch", which rallies supporters to a sports stadium to mark 18 years since the military coup that deified a nomadic boy - his mammoth portrait now hanging over the stadium "like a new sun, rays emerging from around his head".

Mohamed, born in 1981 (and aged four when her family fled Somalia), is at one remove from the history Farah experienced, rather as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun was a new-generation take on the Biafra war, to which Chinua Achebe bore painful witness. While, at times, this distance shows in a dutiful assembly of images and references that fail to rise off the page, other moments reveal a tenacious imagination and maturing talent.

Mohamed's muscular yet lyrical 2010 debut, Black Mamba Boy, which won a Betty Trask award and was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book award, charted an East Africa ravaged by Mussolini's rule, by fictionalising her father's journey. This book focuses on women.
The setting is 1987-88, a drought year of "unrelenting, cloudless blue" skies in Hargeisa - the author's birthplace in northwest Somalia - on the brink of civil war. As the rebels move their HQ from London to Ethiopia, revolt festers in the low-rise city, with alleyways the width of a man's shoulder blades, where power is cut at night to stymy the rebels, and the BBC is banned in public spaces, the goal "not just to black out the city but to silence it".

The three central female characters are an ageing widow, Kawsar, bed-bound after a brutal assault at the local police station; Deqo, a street urchin from a refugee camp who is cared for by prostitutes; and Filsan, a young soldier from Mogadishu, a "neat beret perched to the side of her pinned-up hair", who has a "strange combination of femininity and menace". The plotting around a single incident when these characters come together is overly schematic, as are moments of authorial intrusion (an elderly woman is made to say of her neighbours: "We are the same woman over the ages").

The characters emerge more movingly in separate sections revealing their histories. Kawsar, whose orchard "grew from the remains of the children that had passed through her", wrestles with memories of her only child, detained as a schoolgirl, and lost to her. Her "anger dissipated slowly over months but never left, burning under her like a bed of coals".

Most compelling is Corporal Filsan Adan Ali, veering between a disintegrating self and sinister flashes of violence, who misses seaside Mogadishu so much that "she wakes with its spicy marine scent in her hair". Grappling with period cramps on the eve of a military operation, Filsan hates being alone at almost 30. When ejected from the car of the regional military governor, a menacing hyena in a black Mercedes, for rebuffing his advances, she proves equally brutal in visiting her humiliation on others. Her Achilles heel is her "unknowable father", a modern man who spared her circumcision but had shown her "both tenderness and contempt, cruelty and honour, a glimpse of the world through the bars of his love".

A complex history is often deftly sketched. Wonder at independence ("our first Somali textbooks, our first airline") gives way to the "five-point star on the flag" - the irredentist aspirations to unite a motherland sundered by colonial borders, that spell war first with Kenya then Ethiopia.
Yet history is best revealed in haunting details. A schoolgirl thrown into an army truck "smells fresh, her skin and uniform so scrubbed with soap that her perspiration has the heady, detergent scent that wafts out of the dhobi-houses". In a hospital where nurses demand payment for painkillers, children give blood: "They are being bled dry. The soldier said they should be used like taps."
Filsan's recovery of conscience may be a twist too far, but allows for a breath of hope amid the atrocity.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

A reading by Cristina Ali Farah and Elmi Ali

From: The Mosaic Rooms

Somali-Italian novelist and poet, Ubah Cristina Ali Farah, will discuss her experiences of growing up in Mogadishu and how this has come to influence her writings. She will read from her latest novel Madre Piccola (Little Mother) and discuss her work with Somali British poet, Elmi Ali. Ubah Cristina Ali Farah was born in Verona of a Somali father and an Italian mother. She grew up in Mogadishu but fled at the outbreak of the civil war. She writes for The Black Blog of Vogue Italia and for the magazine Internazionale

She has published stories and poems in several anthologies and in 2006 she won the Lingua Madre National Literary Prize. Madre Piccola is her first novel, in 2008 the novel was awarded the Vittorini Literary Award and was then translated into Dutch and English in 2011. Her second novel Il Comandante del Fiume will be forthcoming in Spring 2014.

Elmi Ali is a writer/performer and facilitator. He is part of the prestigious Young Identity poetry collective, Manchester, and the Inna Voice Ensemble. He writes poetry, short stories and drama. His work has appeared in publications such as the Poetry Review and Scarf Magazine of which he is an Associate Editor. Elmi is currently working on his first collection of poetry scheduled for autumn 2014.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Somali literature: Old patterns and new perspectives

 From: alimoussaiye



The particular richness of Somali oral literature, and especially Somali poetry is widely known and relatively well documented. One of the first foreigners who  noticed this particularity is the famous British traveler, Sir Richard Burton who made this  fine observation in his book First Footsteps in East Africa: “the country teems with poets, poetasters, poetitos, poeticcios. Every man had his recognized position in literature as accurately defined as though he had been reviewed by century of magazines – the fine ear of his people causing them to take the greatest pleasure in harmonious sounds and political expressions, whereas a false quantity or a prosaic phrase excite their violet indignation

However, the legitimate respect that Somalis pay to their rich poetry has led them to mystify it as the most noble mode of expression and to idealize its principal source of inspiration: the pastoral life and nomadic environment. This glorification has not only produced poetic stereotypes that encourage conformism and elitist pedantry; it has also developed a recurrent nostalgia for the good old days, the so-called “barisamaad”, the lost era of innocence, purity and correctness. The disenchantment and frustrations that followed the independence and the horrible legacy of  civil war have reinforced this reference to this “lost paradise”.


The ghetto of orality and the ghost of writing 

This nostalgic relationship with poetry has had serious effects on Somali literature and cultural behaviors at large. It endangers the process of cultural transmission by widening the gap between the young urbanized generation - for whom this highly praised poetry is often beyond their own capacities of understanding - and the “memory generation” – who is imprisoned by the symbolic imaginary of oral tradition.  For many Somalis, the exclusive attachment to poetry has become a sort of psychological shelter from the insecure modern world, which is governed by written references. On the one hand, it leaves many of the older generation in a ghetto of orality that contributes to their social marginalization in modern societies. On the other, the younger generation has been barred from their cultural roots.

 As a result, this nostalgic relationship jeopardizes both collective and individual efforts to develop a critical approach to Somali literature, which could facilitate its renewal while addressing the needs and challenges of a post-pastoral and nomadic society. Finally, this relationship affects the way literate Somalis perceive and handle written materials in their everyday life. Although Somalis are known for absorbing modernity quite rapidly due to their spatial and social mobility, they show a peculiar conservatism towards writing. Even the precocious use by Somalis of the new technologies of communication such as the Internet, has not yet diminished their resistance to communicate their views or emotions in writing.

Of course, Somalis neither like to read, nor do they appreciate those who dare  spend more time with books than in the company of  other Somalis.  Popular Somali culture tends to marginalize individuals who are devoted to reading and writing. There is an exception and that concerns the “wadads”, the religious men, who are supposed to reveal the secrets of the Holy Book, the Quran. The other readers and writers of profane literature are subject to fierce criticism. The overestimated self-confidence of Somalis pushes them to say their word about everything, even about writings that they have not read at all. It is not rare to hear an illiterate Somali making the exegesis of a book without any restrain

My own experience illustrates some common misunderstandings between authors and readers in Somali context. In one of my books, in which I have attempted to revisit some Somali oral legends about the genealogy of tribes, I questioned certain beliefs in order to show that they do not correspond to the historical reality of the tribal formation. I queried certain mythological claims regarding the genealogical affiliation and unity within Issa tribal family. When the book was published in Djibouti, it provoked some members of the concerned groups to accuse me of offending their memory, of casting doubt on their origins and of denying them blood affiliation with their kinship. I thus learned at my cost that nobody, not even scholars, could question in writing the founding myths of the Somalis with impunity. I understood that I was accused  of  not so  the interpretation of  an important legend - but of attempting to enshrine my view in a book forever. In other word, I was accused of being unfair to my oral culture, by challenging in writing a legend and transforming my heretic opinion into “written-like-Quran” truth.

The transcription of Somali language into the Latin alphabet and its instrumentalisation by the late regime of Syad Barre, did not help Somalis reconcile themselves with writing. On the contrary, the State propaganda that presented the transcription of Somali language as an incontestable achievement of the “October Revolution”, has developed an ambivalent attitude, which made the necessary transition from oral tradition to the modern culture of writing even more complicated to Somalis.

It has been taken for granted that the mere fact of being literate is sufficient to  access the promises of writing. Alas, the passage appears to be much more challenging than expected.  Writing is not simply the transcription of words and memories, of images and ideas; it suggests a different way of thinking and organising thought, a different method of analysing reality and of transmitting knowledge. It involves the development of other intellectual, emotional and communicational skills. In other words, there are psychological and cultural constraints that peoples of oral tradition have to overcome in order to become integrated into the “world of writing ”.  

Therefore, Somali peoples seem to be caught in a kind of “literary no man’s land” between the mirage of the sweet mother language and the frightening promises of  the foreign territory of writing.

These boundaries run across all of  Somali literature . Even the experts of Somali culture divide themselves along this line and they introduce an artificial dichotomy between oral literature and written literature, which has led them to separate specializations. Scholars generally divide themselves in two different camps, according to the type of literature considered. Oral literature often attracts foreign anthropologists, linguists and historians willing to capture the “essence” of Somali culture, in line with the primordialist approach inherited from the colonial ethnology. Those who are interested in Somali written literature are mostly literary critics, journalists or writers whose principal motivation is to understand how Somali authors express the turmoil of their society.

The Somali scholars themselves are divided in two groups with different approaches in terms of goals, methodology and expected results. The orality is generally the business of traditionalists or oral eulogists, who are not very familiar with written materials. They mainly seek to perpetuate the nostalgic view and to mystify the uniqueness of Somali oral tradition, without assessing critically the condition and process of its production. Written literature is reserved for the “modern intellectual elite” interested in demonstrating how Somali writers deal with the influence of oral literature, without placing Somali written literature in the context of  other contemporary literacy movements.

It is interesting to notice the different meanings that Somali give to the term of “author” in their language.  The concept of “abwaan” is used to designate the author of an oral piece, such as poems, theatre, and songs. By extension, the term also refers to the ideas of wisdom and leadership. The “abwaan” is synonymous of a visionary, of a philosopher, in accordance with the antique meaning of “the man of knowledge”.  For the author of written materials, Somalis have the more simplistic term of “goraa”, which means “the one who writes”. This example illustrates the ethical and political distinction that Somalis make between those who generate oral wisdom and those who just produce writings materials.  In the past few decades new approaches have emerged that attempt to analyze Somali literature as a whole, in its globality to understand the sociological, socio-cultural, political and psychological process of Somali literary production throughout history.

It is, nevertheless, useful to recall that the relation of Somali peoples with writing has not always been the same throughout their history.  Contrarily to common belief, Somalis seem to have been more familiar with the writing culture in their pre-colonial past, than they are now. Firstly, Somali are descendants of populations who were closely linked with the ancient Egyptian civilization that invented different kind writings as demonstrated by Cheikh Antha DIOP and his followers. Furthermore, Somalis, like other peoples of the Horn of Africa,  live by the Red Sea, a location generally considered as the cradle of the three “Religions of the Book”: Judaism, Christianity and Islam which were introduced in this region from the very outset and influenced the culture of the peoples of the Horn.

During the rise of prosperous Islamic City States on the coast of the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, important universities and centres of knowledge flourished in places like Zeila, Mogadishio and Merca. Peoples of Somali origin lived in these cities and it is highly probable that their elites had access to this writing culture.

The nostalgic relationship with orality and their current ambiguous attitude towards writing are symptomatic consequences of the identity crisis that Somali people have faced since their forced integration into modern world, as imposed by Western hegemony. Like many other pastoral peoples, Somalis were confronted with a process of double alienation in their modern history. The accelerated process of permanent settlement in urban environment changed the fundamental references of their culture based on a pastoral worldview and  the introduction of foreign languages and written communications challenged their oral literature. If the economic, political and socio-cultural consequences of these processes have been studied and documented, the psychological transformations of Somali society and individuals has not been sufficiently addressed. Thus, the critical analysis of Somali literature and specifically its ambivalent relationship with orality and writing, offers an opportunity to understand aspects of the identity crisis of Somalis.

We have chosen two characteristics of Somali literature, which could help understand its inability to address this crisis and new challenges.


The trap of politics

From the beginning, the Somali literature has been subjected to politics and political polemics. Didier Morin, a sharp analyst of Somali literature, rightly stressed, “ In a country that has always managed its language as a political mean, the production of writers, considered as militants of the national construction, became one of the indicators of the political evolution …. and the sign  of its progressive entropy” . Somali poetry, in particular, quickly became the main vehicle of political expression and a direct gateway to the avenue of power. It is worthwhile to remember that the greatest figure of Somali poetry, Sayid Muhammad Abdillah Hassan, is also the father of Somali nationalism, who fought to death against foreign domination and partition of Somali territories. He not only influenced strongly Somali politics from the end of 19th Century; he had also a long-lasting impact on the production of Somali literature. Nowadays, the Sayid is celebrated both as a literacy reference and as a political model in Somali history. Somali analysts have even invented the concept of “Gobayssane” that refers to the year of 1865 (the year the Somali hero is born)  as “the year of the nobles”, which is supposed to inaugurate the era of Somali nationhood and literature. Ali A. Mazrui, the famous Kenyan thinker, who wrote the chapter on African literature in the UNESCO Collection on the General History of Africa, considered that “Sayid Muhammad Abdullah Hassan combined the characteristics- to take a British equivalent, of William Shakespeare and Winston Churchill

Like Sayid Abdillah Hassan, almost all Somali leaders have made use of poetry in order to publicize their political visions and electoral programmes. Furthermore, Somali authors also have developed literary formulas, figures and allegories, which have had an important influence on politics. For instance, in order to influence the socio-political debates, and to create a space for free exchange of ideas and for popular transmission of political thoughts, they invented the so called  poetic chains “ Silsilad”, such as the “Siinley” or “Deelley”. Through these chains of poetic “editorials”, Somali poets have from time to time engaged in critical dialogue on burning issues of their societies (nationalism, social progress, identity, confrontation between modernity and tradition etc). One consequence of this legacy is that Somali poets are given great importance as potential national figures, whose role is not as much to entertain peoples, but rather to provide guidance in social and political life. Poets are even given a spiritual function as noticed by Ali Jimale Ahmed “ Poetry has become  associated with almost divine powers so that poets are accorded a status equivalent to that that given to wadads (religious men)”

The relatively horizontal and egalitarian character of Somali society, which considers the power as everybody’s business, may also explain this tendency of Somali creators to become involved in political polemics. Even songwriters and authors of dramas or comedies, who normally work as entertainers, try to claim this political status as a means of escaping  from the negative prejudices against artists in Somali traditional culture. These patterns may finally justify the suspicion that those in power have nourished against Somali poets and writers, whose literature is always accused of hiding political messages. Since in Somali society any act and word leads to politics, most Somalis believe that behind every love song or humoristic verse, there is probalbly a second or third level of interpretation.

This systematic affiliation of Somali creators with the political sphere has had important consequences on the process of literary production and on the definition of its  status in  modern post pastoral society. It has discouraged the development of autonomous literature, free from political demands and capable to address the complexity of social life.


The monopoly of poetry and its formalism

As mentioned above, Somali literature has, to some extent, become a victim of the richness and variety its oral tradition. This oral heritage, which includes almost all kinds of models (such as tale, stories, epics, chants, etc),  has suffered from the monopoly of poetry. The particular structure and complexity of this poetry became the tree that hides the forest of Somali literature. Mohamed Daher Afrah, a Somali literary critics, regretted this domination, stating that “Its is time to correct the widely held and over-simplified view that Somali literature is the oral poetry….It is time to recognize the existence of other important genres of Somali literature and art such as the prose fiction and the theatre”.

The rich poetic heritage itself has been reduced to few poetic genres, such as the “gabey”, the jiifto, the geraar, that are mainly male productions. Such arbitrary selection of Somali literature had led to the marginalization and folklorization of other literary interesting poetic creations, such as women poetry (buraanbur), work songs, and children’s literature, which play a crucial role in the socialization of youth.

Mohamed D. Afrah recalled  “in traditional Somali society itself, it was the oral narratives, and not the poetry, that used to play the major role in the psychological and cultural formation of Somali child during the early and most sensitive years of his/her life. It is by means of this very rich form of verbal art that Somali parents extensively and consciously use to entertain their young children and, at the same time, educate them with certain set of cultural and social virtues

This monopoly of poetry and the overvaluing of some poetic genres have imposed a rigid formalism that has jeopardized internal evolution. Didier Morin, one of the few foreign analysts to have critically analyzed Somali literature noted that “the consensus reached today by Somali intellectuals and foreign experts on Somali literature, which considers the metric complexity as the criteria of” poetryness is the result of the encounter of two academism in search of a rhetoric. Stylistically, and politically, the ‘Somali verse is not free

The formalism of Somali oral literature does not help creators to address the expectations of new generations. Somali creators continue to use old metaphors from the pastoral world. The systematic references made to figures like camels, caravan,  artefacts of nomadic settlement, acts carried out in a pastoral context,  to describe facts of modern day life, makes this kind of poetry difficult to understand. This is particularly true in the case of young urban Somalis that have little idea of the lost world of their ancestors. Somali creators, instead of filling this gap between generations continue to think that the artistic quality of their creation is measured according to the number of references they have made to the lost era of barisamaad.

As the poetry of Sayid Muhammad Abdullah Hassan has been erected as the standard of any literary production, all authors try to imitate him, to compete with him. Every creator is invited to use precious words and a worldview inspired by the “Father of Somali verb” in order to convince the public about his talent. The results of these mimetic patterns is the “quettoizsation” of Somali literary creation and its failure to adapt to new contexts of its public.

Ironically, by doing so, Somali poets abandon the democratic and popular status of Somali poetry and turn it into an elitist art. Scholars studying Somali literature have also contributed to the mummification of the Somali oral traditions. John William Johnson remarks “Traditions exhibits two major characteristics, those of continuity and change. In much of academic thought in the past, scholarly studies concentrated on continuity and sometimes completely ignored change. Indeed, older views of tradition in the Historical-Geographical School of Folkloristics considered change to be a negative and corrupting influence of tradition, the deterioration of an older, purer form.  Continuity was seen not only as the most important aspect of tradition but the only legitimate aspect of it. Change was described with negative concepts, such as forgetfulness and misunderstanding during the diffusion of tradition

The search for the purity and classicism of Somali literature by literary creators explain partly why they have generally failed to address the moral crisis of Somali people. However, in the latest decades, some creators have tried to promote some forgotten genres of Somali oral literature, such as children’s literature, humoristic stories, and free poetry. They have tried to develop new literary forms such as prose fiction and  experimented unconventional models thereby placing  focus on more accessible words and references such as the so-called “Suugaan dhuljeef” (literally “ground literature”).

In the past decade, we have also witnessed a development of another literary form of expression that describes individual itineraries in the turmoil of the region, that is  the autobiographical writings. Lee Cassanelli rightly notices, “This form of autobiographical writings on the recent past represents a new genre of Somali literary production, not a part of the older oral or written literary culture. It has been promoted in part by foreign publishers eager for first hand ”inside” narratives of what went wrong with the country and was aimed at an audience of foreign readers who may have heard about Somalia for the first time in the 1990’s, as well perhaps as at the rapidly growing community of Somali exiles overseas. Even if many Somali readers continue to interpret these individual reflections as veiled apologies for particular clans, there is little question that they represent a new form of Somali intellectual activity, a new historical subjectivity, which was born in the womb of the Diaspora

These timid and yet marginal experiences lack the conceptual framework needed to facilitate the emergence of an autonomous movement of Somali literature.

New Challenges and perspectives for Somali literature

The Somali literatures has not yet engaged in a critical self-examination of its  strengths, weaknesses and opportunities in the current national, regional and international contexts. For that to happen, the literary producers (poets, dramatists, storytellers, novelists, comics etc) should first question the claimed uniqueness of their culture. They should also compare their destiny with other African literary experiences. Beyond the particularity of their history, they ought to understand that they are, after all, confronted with the same questions that have preoccupied their  peers since the development of African modern literature. They need to rethink and redefine their role and status in our contemporary society. Moreover, they should clarify their relationship with other holders of “symbolic power” in society  (religious persons, political leaders, journalists, sorcerers) as defined by the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu.

Somali literary producers are invited to find their own responses to the old-aged dilemmas that continue to preoccupy African modern literature. Ali Mazurui has identified some of those “conflicts of value” that are of relevance to our debate namely the opposition between the past and the present and the related contradiction between indigenous heritage and modern legacy: In my view, it is crucial for Somali creators to free themselves from the nostalgia of  lost innocence and overcome their tendency to misrepresent the characteristics of both worldviews.

Neither “Somality”, nor Modernity can be reduced to a few conflicting stereotypes. Far from being passive victims of cultural alienation or simple consumers of imported cultural products, Somali people should be considered as active and creative subjects of their own modern fate. It is time for Somali literary creators to stop mystifying their culture and opposing the  “change-resistant” character of  their indigenous traditions to the perpetual movement of change of  modern societies.

Somali modern literature has arrived today at a crossroads. Time came for literary producers to make the appropriate choices in order to cope with the new living conditions and respond to the current expectations and aspirations of their respective public.  In this perspective, they should learn how to negotiate independence from old “oraliture” and invest in new literature.

As elsewhere, Somali literatures should free itself from the dictatorship of traditional literary models without breaking the link with the richness of oral roots. It should find new references, new symbols, new metaphors and new logic adapted to the actual world without renouncing to the ethics and aesthetics of the oral culture.

Oral literature should challenge the domination of poetry and explore the possibilities offered by neglected genres and models like the ones mentioned above (oral narratives, work songs, women poetry, dance and game lyrics). Among these less-explored arts, theatre is one of the most promoting. In Somalia and Djibouti, theatre has become the most paramount art, which has contributed to the development of critical social thought.  It is an urban oral production, which was developed very rapidly without any public support. Professor Andrzejewski, who understood the potential of this art form very early and translated into English two  Somali classic plays, commented that “what particularly impresses any outsider who comes into contact with the Somali theatre is the strong emotional involvement of the audience

Somali literature needs to open new spaces of freedom in order to regain legitimacy. It should move from the world of certainties proposed by oral tradition and explore new territories of imagination. It needs to pass from an idealistic search of lost virtues to a description of the ambivalent lives and realities of Somali people. The possibilities offered by novels and other modern prose, could help writers respond to the new aspirations of their public.

Somali literature should take advantage of the information and communication technologies which offer possibilities of  renewing  content and strengthening impact. Digital recording and the potential of Internet have opened new ways to create, exchange and disseminate oral literature that should be explored more efficiently.

These communication technologies could even help  fill the gap between written and oral literature. The possibility of simultaneously using the written and spoke word permits to  communicate with different audiences. For instance, poets could create Web Poetic Chains to renew the old tradition of Poetic Chains (silsilad) and address the burning issues of their societies. Internet which has replaced the other means of communication permits to reach public throughout the world without any the control and censorship of State or other power. Writers could explore new written literary genres such as the web novel, web serials or stories that will allow sharing their writings and overcoming the constraints of publishing. Free Cyber publishing houses and libraries could mushroom and thereby helping unknown writers to disseminate their work.

I am convinced that,  if appropriately used, the Internet could contribute to the emergence of literary movement similar to the one facilitated by Radio in the 1960’s and 1970’s in Somali- speaking countries of the Horn of Africa. With one additional asset : a wider space of freedom of expression, beyond the control and censorship of any government.

Ali Moussa Iye

Aden Ibrahim shows Somali art is more than war and famine in Kingston Arts Centre

From : HeraldSun


FOR three years Aden Ibrahim has been scouring the globe to find art from Somalia to show his beloved homeland has more to offer than just war and famine.
Now he is putting his collection of paintings, drawings, photos and artifacts on display at the Kingston Arts Centre.

He was inspired to begin the collection when his young son asked him if there were any artists in the now war-torn country.
“I couldn’t believe that all he could imagine about the country was war, famine and destruction,” Mr Ibrahim said. “When I was growing up I couldn’t think that there was anywhere better than Somalia, so I wanted to provide a glimpse into a version of the country that was beautiful.” 

It has been a tough time tracking down all the pieces and the Somali Cultural Association president has spent countless hours on the phone and rummaging through garages in an effort to track down art works.
Some of the pieces even had to be quarantined and sprayed to make but he said he has had a lot of help from the community and Kingston Council and all the work had finally paid off.
“To finally present it here in Melbourne is a giant step.”
Somalis Down Under runs until March 25 at the G1, Kingston Arts Centre, Moorabbin. Admission is free.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Ladan Osman’s collection, The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony, is the winner of the 2014 Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets.

From the African Poetry Book Fund



The African Poetry Book Fund and Prairie Schooner are pleased to announce that Ladan Osman’s collection, The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony, is the winner of the 2014 Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets. Osman will receive a $1000 cash award and publication of her book with the University of Nebraska Press and Amalion Press in Senegal.

“I deeply appreciate this prize,” Osman said after learning of the board’s decision.  “I have so badly just wanted a chance to work, to be apparent to people in life and in poems.  A bunch of things happened in the years spent writing this book: I’m excited to share what came out of those sometimes rough waters, and look forward to connecting to new readers and new communities.”

The African Poetry Book Fund publishes four new titles each year, including the winner of the Sillerman prize and one new volume by a major African poet.

African Poetry Book Fund Series Editor and Prairie Schooner Editor-in-Chief Kwame Dawes praised The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony, saying that “only the genius of sincerity of voice and imagination can allow a poet to contain in a single poem both consuming gravitas and delightful whimsy. This is what we get again and again from the splendidly gifted poet Ladan Osman. The editorial team of the African Poetry Book Fund was unanimous in selecting her manuscript as winner of this year’s Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets.”
Osman, whose parents are from the city of Mogadishu in Somalia, has received fellowships from the Luminarts Cultural Foundation, the Fine Arts Work Center, Cave Canem, and the Michener Center for Writers. 

Her work has appeared in American Life in Poetry, Artful Dodge, Narrative Magazine, Prairie Schooner, RHINO, and Vinyl Poetry. Her chapbook, Ordinary Heaven, will appear in Seven New Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Slapering Hol Press, 2014). She teaches in Chicago.
Last year’s winner was Kenyan poet Clifton Gachagua, whose collection, Madman at Kilifi, will be published in February 2014.

The Sillerman First Book Prize is named after philanthropists Laura and Robert F. X. Sillerman, whose contributions have endowed the establishment of the African Poetry Book Fund & Series.  The Sillerman prize is awarded to African writers who have not published a book-length poetry collection.  An “African writer” is taken to mean someone who was born in Africa, is a citizen or resident of an African country, or whose parents are African.

The Fund and its partners also support seminars, workshops, and other publishing opportunities for African poets, as well as the African Poetry Libraries Project.  As a partner of the African Poetry Book Fund & Series, Prairie Schooner manages the Sillerman prize.  In addition to Series Editor Dawes, the African First Book Fund editorial board is comprised of Chris Abani, Matthew Shenoda, Gabeba Baderoon, John Keene, and Bernardine Evaristo.

Information about the Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets is available on the African Poetry Book Fund website, http://africanpoetrybf.unl.edu.  You can also find more about Prairie Schooner at http://prairieschooner.unl.edu or on Facebook and Twitter

Monday, February 17, 2014

Ending FGM, a poem by Warsan Shire

From Spread the word :

Warsan Shire, Young Poet Laureate for London, author of 'Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth' (flipped eye, 2011) is a writer, educator and editor based in North West London. As a young woman growing up in London, she found peace and happiness in libraries and with words. Her poetry has garnered her an international reputation, performing poetry in Italy, North America, South America and Kenya as well as the UK. Her poems have been published in Wasafiri, Magma and Poetry Review and in the anthology The Salt Book of Younger Poets (Salt, 2011). In 2013, she won the inaugural Brunel University African Poetry Prize. On National Poetry Day in October 2013 she was awarded with the Young Poet Laureate for London honour by Carol Ann Duffy, national Poet Laureate. See Warsan read the first poem Girls.


Girls

1
Sometimes it's tucked into itself, sewn up like the lips of a prisoner.
After the procedure, the girls learn how to walk again, mermaids with new legs, soft knees buckling under their new stainless, sinless bodies.

2
Daughter is synonymous with traitor, the father says. If your mother survived it, you can survive it, the father says. Cut, cut, cut.

3
On a reality TV show about beauty, one girl exposes another girls’ secret. They huddle around her asking questions, touching her arm in liberal concern for her pleasure. Can you even feel anything down there? The camera zooms into a Georgia O’Keefe painting in the background.

4
But mother did you even truly survive it? The carving, the cutting, the warm blade against the inner thigh. Scalping. Deforestation. Leveling the ground. Silencing the devils tongue between your legs, maybe you did? I’m asking you sincerely mother, did you truly survive it?
5
Two girls lay in bed beside one another holding mirrors under the mouths of their skirts, comparing wounds.
I am one girl and you are the other.

-Warsan Shire

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Art exhibiton in Mogadishu


Last year, Somalia's first art exhibition in over two decades was held in Mogadishu. The general theme was the war, culture and history in Somalia. Here are some images from the exhibition.























Friday, February 14, 2014

Finland’s first Somali author: ’Somalia’s more than war and FGM’

From the Yle :

 

Nura Farah will on Thursday become the first author of Somali background to publish a novel in Finland. Her work Aavikon tyttäret (Daughters of the desert) tells the story of a Somali woman’s life in the desert as she dreams of becoming a poet, and her struggles to overcome traditional gender roles.

The central character in the story is a woman called Khadija, who would like to be a poet. In Somali culture, poetry is the domain of men and as a woman, Khadija's daily life revolves around animal husbandry, child care and long journeys to fetch water.

"You get a big audience for yourself if you can speak beautifully," says Farah. "In Somali culture people value eloquence."
Although the novel is set in the 1950s, the oral poetry tradition remains strong in modern Somalia. Farah is hoping that this tradition will become familiar to Finns, who she hopes will get to know Somali culture.

"I especially wanted readers to take some poetry from my book, and that they might get to know something about desert life," says Farah. "I hope that it's not seen as simply a story about Somalis. This book isn’t just for Somalis; it can also be for Finns."
Farah was born in 1979 in Saudi Arabia, and moved to Somalia as a child. At the age of 13 she emigrated to Finland with her mother and siblings. Her new home was in the grip of a deep recession, and according to Farah there was a fair amount of racism.

                                           Fulfillment of a dream

 

At school she was bullied because of her skin colour, and her classmates called her ’Neekeri’ (a racial slur that can be translated as ’nigger’ or ’negro’), rather than her first name, Nura.
Now resident in Helsinki and trained as a lab assistant, the first-time author has never lived in the desert. Her inspiration for the book came from the canon of Somali literature and the stories of her relatives in Finland.

Aavikon tyttäret is the first book written by a Somali author to be published in Finnish. It would be a literary event anyway, as books about Somalia are rare indeed. The majority of Somali authors are male, and the country’s literary tradition is still young.
"I am the first, but I hope that I will not be the last to do like this," says Farah. "This is the fulfillment of my dream."