A Batch of Poems by Fatma Ben Mahmoud (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

Picture of Fatma Ben Mahmoud borrowed off http://www.facebook.com/fbenmahmoud

A Batch of Poems by Fatma Ben Mahmoud (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

These are the original poems in Arabic. They are taken from her poetry collection Another Desire Doesn’t Interest Me. You can also read them here.

قصائد قصيرة لفاطمة بن محمود من مجموعتها رغبة أخرى لا تعنيني

الشاعر

وحيدا .. بلا نشيد
كل المدن نبذته
كل الأرصفة هجرته
فلاذ بيت في .. قصيد

حرقة الأسئلة

سؤال الجمر*
لماذا كلّما تشعل
سيجارة
أكون أنا .. الرّماد ؟

جسدي القتيل
أستلّ منه قلبي
و أشعله .. فتيل.

ديمتريو

الى صديقي الفنان هشام الكتاري

في غرفته .. الوحيدة
داعب العازف أوتار
قلبه
فتنهدت .. حبيبته
البعيدة.

قبلة

كلّما
ترتعش اللحظة بيننا
يتبرّد الورد
و يشتعل،
شفتاك نار
و ريقك .. عسل

Bonne année

سنة جديدة
و تنهمر على العام الجديد
الوعود،
و أنا يهزّني الفرح الجميل
و أتمنّى : لو شهيّة الأماني.. تعود.

انتظار

منذ أن هجرها الله
و أنكرها النبيّ
تجلس على جمر الوقت
تلك البنيّة
تنتظر الحلم
و تستعطف الذي :
لا … يرحم

إكتشاف

كانت كعادتها
تحبّ المساء
و تستلذ ّ الحرام
عندما اكتشفت الحكمة
خرست عن .. الكلام.

حال الطفلة

الى دنيا ميخائيل

كانت الطفلة
تعدّ الأحلام بأصابعها
و تبكي ..
لأن عدد الأصابع لكلّ الأحلام
لا .. تكفي.

وردته الفصيحة

الى الهادي الدبّابي

أيها البستاني
امنحني وردة واحدة
أهبك معنى لكلّ الورود.

لقاء

صدفة
مرّ الذي
تحبّ الرّوح أن تراه،
اهتزّ عصفور الصدّر
ارتحل البصر نحوه
و سافرت نحوي .. عيناه.

إشتعال

و اذ تلتقي النّار بالناّر
و ترتعد كل أوصال..
الجسد،
يرتوي القرنفل
يتبرّد ورد الأنوثة
المتقدّ،
و يذوب الرّخام
لهذا المساء طعم الصبا
و للشفاه وظيفة أخرى
غير الكلام.

مشهد عادي

في طريق المدرسة
طفل … أراه بلا محفظة،
يجوب أروقة القاعة …
نسي الكرّاس
يدنو من كلّ طاولة
أتلف الكتاب
يلامس كلّ كرسيّ
و ضيّع المقلمة،
طفل…
يمسح في المقهى ..
الأحذية.

المومس

كل صباح ..
تعلن التوبة
ترتب وحدتها
و تحصي أمنيتها
اليتيمة
…
آخر كل ليلة
تعود الى عادتها .. القديمة

هــــي

يا لهذه المدينة كم
تضيق ..
تشتدّ أزقتها
فتختنق الخطى،
غير أن بابنا الخشبي
يفتح على قلبها..
الفسيح
تلك الأمّ .. الطيبة.

مشهد ليلي

مطر حزين
و الليل .. منفى،
هل يحتاج أن يضيء المكان
اذا كان في العزلة
الفتى .. الأعمى؟

رغبة

نام الليل
و استيقظ جسد …
كان قد تورّق
نجمة يانعة هي
لم يقطفها الهلال
و ضمّها الأرق،
تأوهت في غصنها .. شهوة
فقطفها الخيال
و استنارت النجمة توهجا
فتململت.

جنازة

أعلم
اذ يلفّ هذا الجسد
الكفن
ستنوحني أمّي
طويلا
تفتقدني غرفتي
و يشيّعني الذين
آلفتهم أمدا
حشدا كبيرا
من .. الشجن.

مشهد شتوي

ليل عميق
و ريح تبللّها المطر
و هذا الذي :
حوله ما يشبه المحفظة،
و له كتاب قديم
و بعض أمان تزرع
في .. الورقة
و بقربه تماما …
اناء ..
و دقّات رتيبة تخترق
سمعه،
تك ، تك ، تك ،
قال الطفل :
– انها الساعة
تضبط ما فات من الليل
و أجزائه المقبلة
و كان يقصد حبّات مطر من
السّقف
تدقّ الاناء الذي :
يكاد يلامس .. قدمه.

ظمأ

قرّب شفتيه
من فيها
ارتعش لسانه
من حلو الرّضاب
و ترقرق ريقها
في الرّوح
حتى .. ارتوى
ثمّ .. أغلق الحنفية
و مضى.

نشوة

مدّ رغبته لها
بسطت شهوتها نحوه
رفعت ورقة التوت
……………………
…………………..
أصابه الدّوار
كادت…. تموت.

Picture of the Front Cover of Another Desire Doesn’t Interest Me borrowed off http://www.fatmabenmahmoud.com/poem.html

Here you are the English translation for this batch!

The Poet

Alone… Without a chant

All the cities rejected him

All the pavements forsook him

So he sheltered in a line… in a poem

The Ardor of Questions

*The Embers’ Question

Why do I become… ash

whenever a cigarette is lit?

I unsheathe my heart

from my killed body

and I burn it.. as a wick.

Demetrio

for my friend, artist Hichem Ktari

In his single room

the instrument player fondled the strings

of his heart.

Thus his far-flung lover

sighed.

A Kiss

Whenever the moment

shivers between us

roses get cold,

then on fire

Your lips are fire,

your spittle.. honey.

Bonne année

A new year,

Then promises are showering

the new year,

& I’m taken by the beautiful joy,

and I wish if the appetite of wishes.. returned.

Waiting

Since Allah deserted her

and since the prophet denied her

that little girl

sits on the embers of Time,

waiting for the dream

and beseeching that

one who is not… merciful

A Discovery

She used to love the evening

and find the forbidden pleasurable.

When she discovered wit

she shut up her mouth.

The Girl at this very Moment

for Donia Mikhail

The girl was

counting dreams on her fingers

and crying..

because there are not enough fingers

for all the dreams..

His Eloquent Rose

for Hedi Debbabi

O, gardener!

Give me just one rose!

I’ll give you a meaning for all roses.

An Encounter

Without a plan

the one whom the soul loves to see

passed by.

The bird of the chest quivered.

The sight tripped into him.

And his eyes travelled…towards me.

A Blaze

And when fire meets fire

and all the body’s joints tingle,

the carnations get watered,

the blazing roses of femininity get cold,

and the marble melts.

This evening tastes like juvenility,

& lips have another function,

apart from speaking.

An Ordinary Scene

On the school pathway.

A child… I saw him without

a schoolbag, roaming the classroom’s corridors…

He forgot the copybook.

He draws close to every desk.

He tore the book apart.

And he lost his pen-case.

A child…

polishing shoes in the café.

The Prostitute

Every morning..

she declares repentance

she tidies up her loneliness

and enumerates her orphan

wish

…

At the end of every night

she reverts to her old habit

She

O, how narrow this city is becoming!

Its alleys are getting tougher.

Thus the footsteps are suffocated.

But our wooden door

opens onto

her expansive heart—

that kind mother.

A Nocturnal Scene

A sad rain

And the night.. is an exile.

Does the place need to emit light

when the blind boy was in this seclusion?

A Desire

The night slept

and a body that has turned into foliage

woke up…

She was a vivid star,

not plucked by the crescent,

but hugged by insomnia.

A desire moaned in her bough

Thus, imagination plucked her.

And the star became more glowing.

Thus, she fidgeted.

A Funeral

I know when the coffin

shrouds this body

my mother will mourn me

very long,

and my room will miss me

and the ones whom I kept company

for long—

a large crowd of grief—

will escort me to my final resting place.

A Wintry Scene

A deep night

and a wind being wetted by rain.

And this one –

around whom something similar to a schoolbag –

had an old book,

and some wishes being grown… in the paper.

And precisely beside him…

an utensil..

and monotonous beats pricking his ears:

tick, tick, tick,

The child said,

It’s the clock

adjusting what was left

of the night

and its upcoming parts.

& he has meant

rain grains

from the ceiling

banging the utensil

that was about to touch.. his foot.

Thirst

He drew his lips closer

to her mouth.

His tongue trembled

out of the spittle sweetness,

and her spit glided along

the soul

till he got watered.

Then he turned off the tap

and went away.

Ecstasy

He extended his desire towards her.

She spread her desire towards him.

She raised the mulberry leaf

……………………………..

……………………………..

He was attacked by vertigo.

She was about to die.

 

Fatma Ben Mahmoud’s Bio:

Fatma Ben Mahmoud is a Tunisian poet and fiction writer. She worked as a philosophy teacher at Tunisian secondary schools. Then, she joined journalism because she loves writing. She writes prose poetry, flash fiction, and essays. She is mostly known for her micro poems and flash poetry. Her language is characterised by high levels of semantic density and richness and, at the same time, by simplicity. She has published three poetry collections: Another Desire Doesn’t Interest Me, What the Poem Hasn’t Said, and The Rose Which I Don’t Name. As for prose, she has published a collaborative short story collection with Moroccan writer Abdallah Al Mouttaqi titled Dreams Extending their Fingers. She has also published a fictional autobiography titled A Woman at the Time of the Revolution.

 

 

 

“The Poem of Christ” A Poem by Hafedh Mahfoudh (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

Picture of Hafedh Mahfoudh borrowed off http://www.alefyaa.com

This is the original poem in Arabic. It appeared in doroob.com on October 21, 2012.

قصيـدة المسيـح ~ حافظ محفوظ

-1-
خذ شكلك المرئيّ واهبط
فوق غيمتك القصيرة،
كيف حال الأرض؟
لا تسأل، ترقّب ثورة الأشجار
وانتظر السّلام محلّقا…
ربّيت أطفالا لأجلك،
هم جنودك بعد جيل،
هم حواريّوك فاحذرهم جميعا
واتّخذني شاهدا
لك في الطّريق روائح الفردوس
سيّدة تراقب نومك الفضّيّ
سيّدة تعدّ طعامك…
الجوعى أمام الباب فانهرهم جميعا
واتّخذني حارسا
لك آيتان تكلّم الموتى وتستفتي الحجر
حاذر إذن!
أرجوحة في الرّيح هذا الملك
فاقطع حبلها،
واصنع من الغصن البليل الفلك
وافتح بابها،
وقل اصعدوا، باركت توبتكم
وكن ربّانها
سيكون دمع الأرض يمّك
آمن خشب السّفين
وآمن مجدافها.
لك إثم خوفك من ضياع البدو في لغة الفراسة
فاتّخذني ترجمانك وانطلق…
-2-
لا بأس،
هذي الخمر إن شاؤوا دمي!
لكنّها غسلت صراخي بالنّخيل وهدهدتني
ربّما هزّت إليها بالسّحاب وبلّلت صوتي
لها لبن اللّغات وأرضعت سمعي
لها حضن الملاك وكفكفت دمعي
لها ظلّ الحصاة،
فلا تكن ولدا لغير الأرض يا كبد السّمـاء
وخذ دمي.
خذ ما تساقط من جناح ملاكها
ما ظلّ منثورا على النّهدين من رمل الجنان وريحها
خذ رفّة الجفن الأخيرة
أنّة الخصر الهباء
خذ ما يشاء اللّون
خذ ما انحلّ من عقد المساء
-3-
أحسّ انبجاس حروف على شفتيّ
أحسّ هبوب السّلالة من شرقها
أرى جسر ضوء يطول
وعاصفة في الأعالي
أرى بجعات يشكّلن بالغيم إسمي
أرى شجرا
لكأنّي أراه يميل
أرى في البعيد بحارا وصحراء عالية
لكأنّي أراها تميل
أرى الطّير والوحش والكائنات
كأنّي أراها تميل
أراني أميل على صدرها وأنام

“The Poem of Christ” A Poem by Hafedh Mahfoudh (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

-1-

Take your visible shape and land

in your low cloud!

How’s earth?

Don’t ask! Expect the revolution of the trees,

and wait for peace, fluttering…

I reared children for you,

They are your soldiers, after a generation.

They are your apostles. Beware of them all!

And take me as a witness.

Scents of paradise for you in the pathway.

A lady surveilling your silvery sleep.

A lady preparing your food…

The hungry are in front of the door. So scold them all!

And take me as a guard!

You have two miracles:

you talk to the dead and you call rocks for a poll.

So, beware!

This kingdom is a trapeze in the wind.

So cut its rope!

And make ships out of the wet bough!

And open their doors,

and say, Go aboard I blessed your repentance.

And be its captain!

The earth tears will be your sea.

Make safe the ship’s timber,

& the oars!

You have the sin of your fear

of the Bedouins’ errancy in the language of the acumen.

So make me your translator and set out…

-2-

Never mind!

This wine is my blood if they want.

But it washed my cries with the palm trees and lulled me.

Perhaps it shook the clouds against it and wetted my voice.

It has the milk of languages and it breastfed my ears.

It has the lap of the angel and it wiped out my tears.

It has the shadow of the pebble.

O, liver of the sky! Be only the child of earth,

and take my blood!

Take the debris of her angel’s wing,

& the gardens’ sand and scents still scattered on the breasts!

Take the last delicacy of the lid,

& the aerosol waist’s moan!

Take what the colour likes!

Take remnants of the evening’s unstrung necklace!

-3-

I feel a gush of letters on my lips.

I feel the breed blowing from its east.

I see a bridge of light growing longer

and a tempest above.

I see pelicans molding my name with clouds.

I see trees

as if I see them swaying.

I see from faraway seas and a high desert

as if I see them swaying.

I see the bird, the beast, and the creatures

as if I see them swaying.

I see myself swaying to her bosom and I sleep.

Hafedh Mahfoudh’s Bio:

Hafedh Mahfoudh is a Tunisian poet and novelist. He was born in the Tunisian city of Ksour Essef in 1965. He is a teacher of Arabic language and literature. He was awarded many literary prizes such as The Tunisian Golden Comar in 1999 for his novel The Angels’ Guard. He authored many poetry collections like Anxiety (1989), The Ants’ Poems (1994), and The Potter (1999). Chief among his novels, we can cite The Confusion of Senses (1996), The Wisdom Cube (2003), and Hourria (2005).

 

“This is Me..”A Poem by Saghir Oulad Ahmed (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

Picture of Saghir Oulad Ahmed borrowed off http://www.doroob.com

This is the original poem in Arabic. It appeared in doroob.com on December 11, 2012.

هذا أنا.. ~ أولاد أحمد

هذا أنا..
فكّرتُ في شعبٍ يقول : نعمْ ولاَ
عدّلتُ ما فكّرتُ فيهِ لأنّني – ببساطةٍ – عدّلتُ ما فكّرتُ فيهِ
فكّرتُ في شعبٍ يقولُ : نعمْ لـِ : لاَ
فكّرتُ في عددِ الضحايا واليتامى والأراملِ
واللصوصْ
فكّرتُ في هربِ الحروفِ من النصوصْ.
فكّرتُ في شعبٍ يغادرُ أرضهُ
بنسائهِ ورجالهِ
وجِمالهِ وكلابهِ.
فكّرتُ في تلكَ اليتيمةِ – في الحكومةِ ـ
وحدها تستوردُ التصفيقْ
من حفلٍ لسوبرانو يُغنّي للغزالةِ
والعدالةِ والمسيحْ.
فكّرتُ في صمتٍ فصيحْ
مضتِ الحياةُ كما مضتْ
مضت الحياةُ تهافُتًا وَ.. سبهلا
سأقولُ للأعشى الكبير قصيدة في البار،
إن نفذَ الشرابُ، وصاح في ليلِ المدينةِ ديكُها وغُرابُها :
– يــــــــــا ناسُ
ليس هناكَ – بعدَ الآنَ – غَدْ.

“This is Me..”A Poem by Saghir Oulad Ahmed (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

This is me..

I thought of a people that says, Yes & No.

I adjusted what I had thought of because – simply – I

adjusted what I had thought of.

I thought of a people that says, Yes to No.

I thought of the number of victims, orphans, widows,

and thieves.

I thought of letters fleeting from the texts.

I thought of a people leaving its land

with its women and men, camels and dogs.

I thought of that orphan – the government –

It was solely importing clapping

from a concert of a soprano that is singing to the gazelle,

to justice, and to the Christ.

I thought of an eloquent silence.

Life has gone as it has gone.

Life has gone in rushing & in vain.

I’d read a poem to Al-Asha al Kabir in the bar

when wine ran out and the cock and the crow of the city

cried in its night:

“– O, folks!

There is no tomorrow – after now – over there.”

Mohamed Sgaier Awlad Ahmed’s Bio:

Mohamed Sgaier Awlad Ahmed (sometimes Saghir Oulad Ahmed) is a Tunisian poet. He was born in the Tunisian city of Sidi Bouzid in 1955. He was invited to several international poetry festivals and read his poetry in most Tunisian cities. Awlad Ahmed’s poetry is mostly known for its satire, humour, and caustic remarks. His poems are translated into several European languages.

 

“Redeyef: The Mother of Rebels” A Poem by Jamel Slii (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

[Video of Jamel Slii Reading his Poem in Redeyef.]

This is the original poem in Arabic:

قصيدة: “الرديف أم الثائرين” ~ للشاعر جمال الصليعي
الرديف ..
هذه الرديف
أرض أقفرت عشبا
لكنها أخصبت بالعز منتصبا
هذه الرديف أم الثائرين
أتت تعلم الغافلين المجد و الغضب
من قبل أن يعرف الثوار مسلكهم
خط الرجال هنا دربا لهم خضبا
السابقون الى الثوراة
مسكنهم حر المناجم
حيث الصخر قد كتب
لاشي فوق هدير الشعب منفجرا
بركان غيظ رمى النيران و اللهب
فاخلع نعالك هذه الأرض طاهرة
جرى عليها دم الأحرار و انسكب
مر النار
مر النار تكتب
تفاصيل اغفلها النائمون
و انت تراقص قد اللهيب على حشرجات السبات
و أنجز قليلا من الموت تحتاجه كي تفيق الحياة
قليل قليل من الزيت فوق اذا الشعب يكفي
لتأتي اذا الشعب رافلة مزدهاة
يواعدك الجوع بين الرغيف البعيد
و بين مواعيد عرقوبها خلبي اللغاة
ولست فقيرا لا لا لست فقيرا
ولكن نواقير مصرك أعطت عناقيدها للجباة
ونحن الذين استخضنا بشاعرنا اذ أراد الحياة
وجاء البغاة فقالوا له نرى خيركم في الممات
لنا الأرض قالوا و خيراتها من عليها
و شطئانها الساحرات
و نمنحكم قفة الفقر و الجهل
و الحزب و الصحف الكاذبات
مر النار تكتب
فقد كذبت هذه النخب المشتراة
تريك أناقتها في النهار
و في الليل تأوي
الى فرش الممـ….. الموميات
لها عسل الوهم في قطران الطلاة
مر النار تكتب
مر النار تكتب فان لنا من رصيد الدماء
كفايتنا دائما للنجاة
لنا فائض من كرامة شعب أبي
و لكن طيبتنا مدخل للطغاة
و في آخر الصبر مقبرة للطغاة
مر النار تكتب
مر النار تكتب فأمك حاضرة للشهادة
كانت اعدت بنيها لكل الدروب و كل الجهات
مر النار تكتب
تفاصيل….. يجهلها الساسة العابرون
و أهل الخراج و وفد الجباة
مر النار تكتب
اذا الشعب يوما أراد الحياة
فلابد ان تستجيب الحياة
ولابد ان يسقط الظالمون الطغاة

“Redeyef: The Mother of Rebels” A Poem by Jamel Slii (Translated by Ali Znaidi)

Redeyef..

This is Redeyef—

a land devoid of grass,

yet, fertile with honour, erect.

This is Redeyef; the mother of rebels.

She came to teach the mindless

glory & anger.

Before the revolutionaries know their pathway

men, here, had traced for them a pigmented path:

The harbingers of the revolutions,

their home is the mines’ heat

where rocks had written,

Nothing is above the explosive roar of the people—

a volcano of wrath which spewed fire & blaze.

So, take off your shoes because this land is pure

on which the blood of the free flowed & spilled.

Order the fire!

Order the fire to write

details neglected by the sleepers,

while you are dancing with the blaze’s stature

to the hibernation’s rattles,

& perform a little bit of death, something you need

in order for life to wake up.

A little bit, a little bit of oil over “If The People” would suffice,

so that “If The People” comes swaggering & ceremonious.

Hunger is dating you between a remote loaf of bread

& appointments whose jam to-morrow is full of flowery words.

& you are not poor. No, no, you are not poor,

but the hearts of your land had given their grapes to tax collectors.

& we who fought an uphill battle/

& our model was our poet who “chose to live.”

But tyrants came & said to him, We see your good in death.

The land is ours, they said, and so are its resources

and whoever treads on it,

& its mesmerising beaches.

& we bestow on you the bag of poverty and ignorance,

the party, and the phony newspapers.

Order the fire to write:

These purchased élites have lied.

They show you their elegance in the daytime,

& at night, they shelter in

the mattresses of the mumm… mummies,

& they have not but the honey of illusion in the painters’ tar.

Order the fire to write,

Order the fire to write, we have enough blood credit—

always sufficient to get rescue,

we have a surplus of a prideful people’s dignity,

but our kindness is the tyrants’ gate,

but at the end of patience it will be the tyrants’ cemetery.

Order the fire to write,

Order the fire to write, your mother is ready for martyrdom,

& she had prepared her children for all paths and all directions.

Order the fire to write

details… ignored by the ephemeral politicians,

the community of land tax collectors,

& the delegation of tax collectors.

Order the fire to write,

If the people choose to live one day,

life can do nothing but give in,

and unjust tyrants can do nothing but collapse.

Jamel Slii’s Bio:

Jamel Slii is a Tunisian poet. He was born in the Tunisian city of Douz on November 25, 1955. He lived in Libya in the 1970’s. Then, he returned to Tunisia. He read his poetry in many Arab countries. He published his first collection in 1998 under the title of The Valley of Ants which is, in fact, a long poem.

His Excellency Mr. the Minster and Corruption: An Article Written by Kamel Riahi and Translated by Ali Znaidi.

His New Novel Is Among the Arabic Booker Longlist.

Tunisian El Wad Is Breaking into the Files of Corruption through Novel Writing:

 An Article Written by Kamel Riahi and Translated by Ali Znaidi.

The Front Cover of His Excellency Mr. the Minister; a novel longlisted in the Arabic Booker (Aljazeera)

Kamel Riahi – Tunisia

Houcine El Wad was known as an outstanding researcher in Arabic literature and a professor in the Tunisian and Arab universities who was preoccupied with Arabic old poetry, about which he authored several research papers and studies until 2010 when he came out on the cultural scene with his novel The City’s Scents under the most important Tunisian novelistic series “Ouyoun El Mouassira” (Contemporary Gists) which is run by the famous Tunisian critic Taoufik Baccar.

With debut novel he won the Tunisian Golden Comar, a prize given to the best Tunisian novel. After one year he published his second novel His Excellency Mr. the Minister under the same series to be longlisted in the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. Besides, he is the only Tunisian in this year’s contest.

Taoufik Baccar has revealed that Houcine El Wad’s novels that he published were written years ago, but they remained hidden in the drawers, either due to despair of the reality of culture in Tunisia or as a result of fear of publication or appearing with a new identity after being known as a critic and a successful researcher.

Besides, the delay of publishing these works arises from such an audacity through questioning the Tunisian political reality in the former regime against which the Revolution of January 14^th was waged, particularly through his novel His Excellency Mr. the Minister.

The Degeneration of Value

Introducing the novel, Tunisian university researcher Chokri El Mabkhout puts a significant title highlighting the theme upon which Houcine El Wad’s novel touches which is “Dégage Ya Issabatou Essourraq,” (O, band of thieves! Go away!) a slogan raised by the Tunisian people during their revolution against the dictator. Thus he gives priority to the people’s outcries over the discourse of the élite.

El Mabkhout said,

Houcine El Wad wrote this novel years ago before the revolution.

And there is no doubt that, at the time of its writing, he was inspired

by what was circulated about the state of corruption and thieves,

and the scandals of its ministers and their leader and his royal family.

The novel narrates the story of someone who found an anonymous manuscript in the National Library. The failure to find its owner induced him to publish it, waiting that its owner would recognize it.

The manuscript includes a plea of one of the ministers who was accused by the regime after lawyers refused to defend him. In it, he wrote his story with his cousin, the corrupted prime minister and the server of the old regime who led him to political doom through appointing him as a minister of natural resources and property, taking advantage of his deteriorated economic situation as a primary school teacher.

The man turned from an opponent of the regime to a server and defender and from an authentic labour unionist to a foe of the labour union which defends the rights of the downtrodden, to the extent that he described the comrades of militancy as “state haters” after calling for a general strike.

The primary school teacher with principles became also a tool of the regime – the party – to sell the properties of the state and recklessly abandon them to the private sector. Though the minister did not steal as it is stated in his plea, he signed all thefts in a legal way bankrupting the state in favour of “His Excellency” through abandoning the properties of the state at the cheapest prices.

The novel looks closely in more than 250 pages at the path of the degeneration of value in front of money influence, as if Houcine El Wad is bringing out the human subconscious to us, reminding of the French saying “a clean hand steals nothing.”

The State of Corruption

A novel that delves into the cellars of politics cannot neglect the reality of moral corruption embraced by the one-party state through several manifestations. For instance, woman is one of the mechanisms of the functioning and management of that corruption – be she a secretary, a politician, or her royal majesty.

There, in the ministries’ offices and palaces, prostitution activates as an essential mainstay that forms a parallel line of political prostitution. All that is framed according to a special view of politics as an intimate foe of morality because the latter, according to the politicians of the state of corruption, is considered as idiocy.

That’s why the prime minister or His Excellency was changing his wives as often as he was changing his socks, paying no heed to their beauty or young age, while he was climbing the ladder of political positions because, according to him, high standing and power are the sole criteria of marriage.

Thus Houcine El Wad’s novel touches upon a new old triad of politics, money, and sex, declaring, as critic Chokri El Mabkhout stated “a radical collusion between these three hypostases.”

Houcine El Wad’s novel supports a new trend in the Tunisian novel which was absent and modest – that is, of “the political novel.” This novelistic pattern began developing in this glimmer of freedom lived by the Tunisian writer, despite the great perils that threaten the Tunisian novelists, many of whom hasted in writing the political in a superficial and sermonical way.

But Houcine El Wad had been safe from that because perhaps he wrote his novel before the revolution, or because perhaps he broke into creative writing and fiction at an advanced age and experience as he was born in 1948.

Despite its originality, seriousness, and its strong language that is sometimes sarcastic due to the insertion, for example, of daily speech and colloquial Tunisian, weak points appeared in it here and there and especially sometimes the reader’s feeling of boredom due to its slow events.

Besides, the novelist did not succeed in the frame story because the novel as a whole is a plea before the court written by the minister to defend himself. And because the reference to this through the required expressions is absent he sometimes narrates chapters without referring to the origin of the text as a plea. And whenever he mentioned that, the technique sounded unaccountable, projective, and intrusive.

This article appeared in aljazeera.net 14/12/2012 by Kamel Riahi.

You can read the original text in Arabic here.

Translated from Arabic by Ali Znaidi.

 

A selection of poetry by Tunisian poet Amel Moussa in Turkish: An Article Translated by Ali Znaidi

Amel Moussa

A selection of poetry by Tunisian poet Amel Moussa in Turkish: An Article Translated by Ali Znaidi

Tunis – Al Hayet

Wednesday, December 5^th, 2012

A translated selection of poetry by Tunisian poet and researcher Amel Moussa was published in Turkish language in Istanbul under the title of Enough Flesh to Become a Cloud by Callisto Kitap. The translation that was described as precise and focused on the aesthetics of the text was made by Turkish poet and translator Metin Fındıkçı who has already translated more than thirty books by such names as Mahmoud Darwish, Adonis, Mohamed Bennis, Maysoun Sakr, and others from Arabic into Turkish.

This book by Amel Moussa whose poetry was translated into several languages like Italian, French, English, Spanish, and Polish includes fifty-two poems like “I Turned My Body into Wings,” “Photos without Light,” “A Painting Not Endured by the Wall,” “Joseph,” “Living with Three Elements,” “Female of Water,” “The Desire Recitation,” and “He Feminises Me Twice.”

Poet Amel Moussa is considered one of the important poetry names in Tunisia. The most prominent features of her experience are the erotic dimension which is intertwined with mysticism and the preoccupation with the realms of the self.

Originally appeared in Al Hayat 05/12/2012.  .

You can read the original text in Arabic here.

Translated from Arabic by Ali Znaidi.

Only One Tunisian Novel to Compete for the 2013 International Prize for Arabic Fiction

Today December, 6^th, 2013 the longlist for the 2013 International Prize for Arabic Fiction was announced. Only one Tunisian title did make the rolls which is Saadatouhou Essaid Elwazir (His Excellency Mr. the Minister) by Tunisian novelist, critic, and university professor Houcine El Wad.

Houcine El Wad’s novel His Excellency Mr. the Minister (Front Cover)

You can have more ideas about the author and this novel here.

Houcine El Wad’s His Excellency Mr. the Minister: A Radical Collusion between the Capital, the Body, and Politics. An Article Written by Alia Ben Nhila and Translated by Ali Znaidi.

Saadatouhou Essaid Elwazir (His Excellency Mr. the Minister) is a new novel written by Houcine El Wad (or Houcine El Oued), published by Dar El Janoub Editions (Sud Éditions, Tunis) in 268 pages of medium size under the series “Ouyoun El Mouassira” (Contemporary Gists) which is run by Professor Taoufik Baccar, and introduced by university professor and researcher Chokri El Mabkhout.

 

His Excellency Mr. the Minister reveals the radical collusion between the capital, the body, and politics which, according to El Mabkhout, “are three hypostases that make transparent a disguised and propagated corruption that originated from an incestuous union, though ambiguous and equivocal, between the desire for easy money, sex addiction, and lust for power.

Animals that enslaved each other and that lean towards the perpetuation of enslaving the human race in the whole world, either in an explicit and naked manner as is the case in our Arab lands, my country and the like, or generally in an implicit and gentle manner as is the case in those countries that made their counter powers and are still fine-tuning them according to the existing authorities’ deceit and maneuver.”

 

Dr. Houcine El Wad is a teacher of literature and criticism. He was born in Moknine in 1948. He obtained a State Doctorate in Arab Literatures from the Tunisian university in 1987. He taught in the department of Arabic language in the Faculty of Arts in King Saud University. He also worked as a director of Institut Bourguiba des Langues Vivantes in Tunis (Bourguiba Institute of Modern Languages), a general secretary of the national committee, UNESCO, ALECSO, and ISESCO, and a dean of the Faculty of Arts and Humanities of Kairouan.

 

He wrote many books and he is the director of the series Mafatih (Keys) issued by Dar El Janoub Editions. He wrote many books about old and modern Arabic literature, and modern methodologies, for instance, (al binyatou alqasassiya fi Risalat al-ghufran) The Fictional Structure in The Epistle of Forgiveness (1972), (fi tarikh al-adab: mafahim wa manahij) (On the History of Literature: Concepts and Methodologies) (1979), (fi manahij addirassat al-adabiyya) (On the Methodologies of Literary Studies) (1982), (Al-Moutanabbi wa attajribatou aljamaliyya inda alarab) Al Moutanabbi and the Aesthetic Experience of Arabs (1987), (madkhal ila shir al Moutanabbi) An Introduction to Al Moutanabbi’s Poetry (1991), (Dirastoun fi shir Bashar) A Study about Bashar’s Poetry (1992), (al lougatou ashir fi diwan abi Tammam) Language Poetry in Abu Tammam’s Poetry Book (1999), (jamaliyyatou alana fi shir Al-Asha al Kabir) The Aesthetics of the Ego in Al-Asha’s Poetry (2001). He also wrote introductions for other writers’ books and numberless articles in the supplement of Al-3amal (The Action) and Al-Fikr Magazine (Thought Magzine). He was an activist especially between 1972 and 1974 during the emergence of the movement of the literary Avant-gardism.

 

As for the narrative art, his (Rawa-ihou al-Madina) The City’s Scents won the Tunisian Golden Comar in 2011 and it was received with a great appraisal from the intellectuals and critics. Critic Taoufik Baccar said that its style is ranked to the level of world literature which is a rare thing in the national literary production because it epitomises in all its traits all the old Tunisian cities. In it, he described the social environment in its colours and fragments and particularly its scents – be they lovely or stinky because it is the essential element that galvanises the literary text in which scents of mosques, oil mills, souks (traditional markets), and even dirt and brothels throng together, plus the massive use of proverbs by the characters. All that is delivered in the framework of a humourous and sarcastic viewpoint, but at the same time it is not a neutral viewpoint as it is most of the time critical and exasperated.

 

It seems that El Wad’s novel (His Excellency Mr. the Minister) also enjoys a good reception. Professor and Arabic language and literature researcher Chokri El Mabkhout wrote an introduction for it in which he stated that El Wad wrote it years ago before the Tunisian revolution and he was inspired, at the time of its writing, by what was circulated about the state of corruption and thieves, and the scandals of its ministers and their leader and his royal family, leaving the rest, which is the most important in art, to the logic of the story and the novel making. The artistic world which was made by the writer’s imagination seemed similar to faces of reality whose some secrets were divulged by the days, but, according to El Mabkhout, “You will not find in this novel, even if you guess and compare, any minister in person. And I mostly presume that you will keep guessing without reaching any certainty. And it would be difficult for you to delineate this event or that occurrence whatsoever the effort you made. You will only notice the logic of the running of the state—the state of the countries’ looters and sellers, the devastators of minds, and the enslavors of people.”

 

His Excellency Mr. the Minister is a novel which Houcine El Wad wanted it to be a trial of a minister that lawyers refused to defend him due to his dirty files of corruption because he worked in the entourage of “His Excellency.” And perhaps he means by it the ousted president Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali. It depicts some stages of the life of a minister who was a primary school teacher suffering from poverty, deprivation in all its forms, and life’s hardships which chance and greed put him in the position of a minister in a state governed by corruption in which he did nasty jobs and when those jobs were over his master threw him into the cellars of the Interior Ministry, the hecatombs of tribunals, and the abattoir of the madhouse.

 

But, although the novel was written years ago before the revolution of January 14^th and the events are similar to what is happening today in Tunisia after the revolution, the difference, as it seems, lies in the fact that some lawyers after the revolution do not refuse to defend the corruptors who were involved in bribery and even some of them are rushing to defend the remnants of the former regime and not only the minister or even the biggest symbol of corruption in the corrupt state.

 

Originally appeared in the Tunisian daily Assabah 05/11/2011 by Alia Ben Nhila.

You can read the original text in Arabic here.

Translated from Arabic by Ali Znaidi.

 

 

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Ali Znaidi’s Second Poetry Chapbook

My second poetry chapbook Moon’s Cloth Embroidered with Poems was published on October 4, 2012 by Origami Poems Project in the USA.  It is in fact a micro-chapbook. Many thanks to to editors Lynnie Gobeille and Jan Keough.

Besides, a selected poem from the micro-chapbook was also published in the same site. You can read it here.

Ali Znaidi’s Moon’s Cloth Embroidered with Poems

 

 

By the way the Origami Poems Project accepts submissions of translated poetry.

My micro-chapbook is available as a free PDF download here.

 

 

 

 

 

Ali Znaidi’s Debut Poetry Chapbook

Ali Znaidi’s Experimental Ruminations (Cover)

 

My debut poetry chapbook Experimental Ruminations was published on September 20, 2012 by Fowlpox Press in Canada. Many thanks to editor Virgil Kay.

 

 

It is available as a free PDF download here.