Abdelkrim Ghallab’s postcolonial We Buried the Past , originally published in 1966, was the first breakthrough Moroccan novel written in Arabic instead of French. Newly translated into English, this edition brings Ghallab’s most widely read and lauded work to a new audience.
Written after the country gained independence, the historical novel follows two generations of al-Tihamis, a well-to-do family residing in Fez’s ancient medina. The family members’ lives reflect the profound social changes taking place in Morocco during that time. Bridging two worlds, We Buried the Past begins during the quieter days of the late colonial period, a world of seemingly timeless tradition, in which the patriarch, al-Haj Muhammad, proudly presides over the family. Here, religion is unquestioned and permeates all aspects of daily life. But the coming upheaval and imminent social transition are reflected in al-Haj’s three sons, particularly his second son, Abderrahman, who eventually defies his father and comes to symbolize the break between the old ways and the new.
Noted for marrying classical Arabic style and European literary form, this book also offers insight into the life of Ghallab himself, who was deeply involved in the nationalist movement that led to Moroccan independence. A pioneering work, We Buried the Past beautifully characterizes an influential period in the history of Morocco.
Abdelkrim Ghallab (1919-2006) was a Moroccan political journalist and novelist. He is the author of five novels and three collections of short stories. In 2004 he was awarded the Maghreb Culture Prize of Tunis. Gallab's novels have been translated into many languages. Roger Allen is professor emeritus of Arabic language and literature at the University of Pennsylvania.
Read as part of the #invisiblecitiesproject January _ Morocco
I started reading this book with the bear minimum knowledge about Moroccan traditions or history. There was a need of background research to accompany the reading. Though my ambitions of getting to know the culture of Morocco was sort of fulfilled, I unfortunately did not like the style of the translation.
Also there are several introductions to characters that went nowhere. Whilst they did give an idea about the general society during the period I felt that it did not play a major part in the narrative, and just felt out of place. The characters did not jump up to me and they didn't feel real. The conversations that the characters often had with themselves did not seem realistic enough to me and felt more like a politically influenced writing style and I felt that the author didn't engage in much showing but proceeded to tell his viewpoint. '
"Now she lived with her memories of Hajji Muhammed, the man who had filled her life with his manhood..." A huge NO...
To read about the Moroccan road to independence as an Algerian was both a familiar and enlightening experience. We Have Buried the Past (original title: دفنا الماضي) by Abdelkrim Ghallab invites us into the home of a reasonably well-off Fez family in the early and mid-20th Century. He allows us to observe their most intimate struggles and happinesses while seeing in parallel the city’s progress towards independence and its effect on the family as a whole and each member individually.
Ghallab covers many themes in this novel that could – and I’m sure have – justify much exploration, but since this is a mini-review, I would like to focus on a couple that particularly drew my attention. Throughout the novel, there is an often quiet, though sometimes explosive, conflict between “the past” and the future. This is a common theme in many novels, but what I found thought-provoking in this one was how both the colonial presence and Moroccan tradition were intertwined in one past that must be disposed of. The patriarch worried about disrupting the customs and old ways, and felt that there was no way to rid the country of the French colonisers without simultaneously causing such disruption. Similarly, the revolutionary son, Abdel-Rahman, believed that traditional thinking and attachment to custom prevented Morocco’s people from believing they could mobilise and take their independence. A further striking paradox of Abdel-Rahman’s anti-colonial “awakening” is that it is triggered by his studies at his less traditional, French school. I realised as I read that subconsciously part of me thought of independence movements, whether in Algeria or elsewhere, as a sort of return to the past before colonisation, rather than the building of a new present inspired by values that lived on in the people. These Islamic and social values are filled with life and significance in Abdel-Rahman as he slowly gains consciousness of his people’s situation and decides to take action.
I found Ghallab’s style – translated from Arabic by Roger Allen – easy to read and unusually comfortable. So many “classic” novels from Arab countries have a distinctly anti-Islamic atmosphere that means I never feel fully at ease in their world. This was different; I could recognise a respect for Islam and for his country that allowed me to lower my defences and consider with an open mind the critiques he levelled against his society. There’s also a degree of sympathy for all the characters in the book, including those who choose less honourable paths in the journey towards independence, and I appreciated that too. And this is all set on the beautiful, evocative, and carefully crafted backdrop of the old city of Fez in the 20th Century. For these reasons among others, this novel is quite unique out of the Arab novels I have read and I’m very glad I decided to pick it up.
This work about Morocco is similar to the Cairo Trilogy. It is the story of one family based in Fez. There is so much to take in and research as you read.