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ليالي المسك العتيقة
This collection of short stories, both poignant and skillfully crafted, bring to life the tragic demise of traditional Nubian life and culture. If the earlier dams that were built across the Nile during the first half of the twentieth century caused increasing numbers of the men-folk to migrate north to Cairo and Alexandria to work as servants, waiters, and doormen, the completion of the High Dam in 1964 sounded the death knell. While the temples of Abu Simbel were meticulously relocated at great expense, the drowning of the ancient heartland of the Nubian people along the banks of the Nile went largely unnoticed. Haggag Oddoul’s work, as well as documenting the personal tragedy of individuals caught up in massive social transformation, also casts a nostalgic light on the heritage and way of life of the their rhythmic dancing, their beautiful women, the lively humor of their elders, and the enormous centrality of their traditions and the spirits with which they shared the environment. Two stories in this collection, ‘’Zeinab Uburty’’ and ‘’Nights of Musk,’’ offer a bucolic and dream-like insight into the world that has disappeared for ever under the water behind the dam. Meanwhile, two other stories, ‘’Adila, Grandmother’’ and ‘’The River People,’’ document the departure of the men, while the women are left behind to go fallow, and the second and third generations born in the cities of the north have only their grandmother’s tales and her pigeon Arabic to remind them of their heritage.
111 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
7 people are currently reading
192 people want to read
About the author
Haggag Hassan Oddoul
54 books20 followersHe was born in Alexandria of Nubian parents who had left their impoverished native village. From 1963 to 1967 he was a construction worker on the Aswan High Dam. Later, he served in the Egyptian army, where he saw action in both the War of Attrition and the October 1973 War. He didn't begin writing until the age of forty. His works have received several Egyptian literary awards, and he obtained government grants for the years 1996-98 and 2002–03, to complete his novels.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
March 10, 2019
“Dam piled high, you are the same age as me. You split up lovers. They dumped you into the way of the mighty river. You have blocked the life-flow of water. Behind you it has built up and drowned half our land. The river is good like its people, but the dam confined the water in a huge lake. The water swelled up like boiling milk, and as it rose it swallowed up half the green valley and destroyed it. It drowned lines of palm trees and polluted the sweet water. It ruined the time of peace and purity. We moved out, leaving behind our cool spacious houses for cramped sweltering ones that hung on the side of the mountain like carbuncles. We crowded in on the scorpions, and they crowded in on us. We chased away the snakes, and they came back and surrounded us. The wolf’s howl echoed deep in our ears: ‘Beware, you are too close to my territory.’ We drowned in the murky yellow of the mountain and our hearts longed for the bright yellow sand of our own land, for the higher sands were barren and brought forth neither a stalk of corn nor a clump of green. They bred only scorpions and kept the rattlesnakes and vipers warm.”
(from “The River People”)
(from “The River People”)
June 17, 2011
The second story, Nights of Musk - absolutely beautiful, like music it was! But all four stories are beautifully written and share so much about the old Nubian culture.
December 4, 2013
أربع قصص قصيرة تأخذك إلى أرض النوبة وأهلها وحكاويهم الجميلة والمليئة بالخرافة والخيال والمتعة.
أجمل القصص لي كانت "أديلا يا جدتي" و "ليالي المسك العتيقة".
أجمل القصص لي كانت "أديلا يا جدتي" و "ليالي المسك العتيقة".
October 8, 2023
An eclectic collection of stories examining various facets of the Nubian experience. Weaving a tapestry of daily life and longer term trajectories, strings of joy and pain are knitted together along particular modalities that at their heart collectively tug at complex notions of movement and belonging.
Adila, Grandmother.
Migration; identity and orientation; reconciliation.
Simple, straightforward prose and plot. But rich in emotion, and teasing with moments of humor. Themes are evolutions of community and personal relationships on one hand, and of the continuity of despondent reproducible experiences on other. A third theme deals with ruptures in such inertia, implying a possibility of hope and happiness despite overwhelming sadness and estrangement within surroundings (i.e. the village of re-settlement) and within personal connections (Nubian-Gorbati dichotomy, and the mixed space in between).
A final theme deals with cultural, historical and genetic/racial identities found in unique lived experience and also parallels/commonalities thereof. These identities and experiences are framed in the dialectic or tensions between “ Nubian” and “Gorbati,” or conversely between indigeneity and foreignness. In turn, rooted in the concept of migration (both forced displacement and exploratory/economic) and its effects, Oddoul relays this particular dichotomy over modalities of rejection, acceptance, tussling through, and ultimately reconciliation. In the end, it is an overarching framework to encapsulate all other story dynamics.
Though containing solid foundations (and pronounced tensions), it is ultimately a dichotomy that proves not to be as rigid as one initially assumes or as is initially presented. Parallel plot lines reflecting contrasting wisdoms of medical practice help to buttress such a nuance. So too does the complexity of communication and interaction involving, and relating to, three main characters. Meanwhile, despite having a lesser role in the story, one character’s attitudes and interactions remain somewhat incalcitrant and immutable. Oddoul here tosses in a blockage to the flow of the story, paradoxically suggesting that not all people will or can reconcile. What renders this blockage problematic, if simultaneously naturally human, is that we are tempted by the narrative to frown upon the impasse’s underlying motives as having come from condescending biases .
Story flow is in present tense, and time progresses rather swiftly over its plot. A frequently melancholy, if eventually bittersweet and sober, inception to the story collection.
Nights of Musk
Love/romance; cultural traditions including festivities; coming-of-age transitions.
Shortest story despite being the titular entry. Focused on two persons in early adulthood. Adult-oriented, with some delicate and some mature language. Also, Sensual, poetic, and blissful in tone balancing romance and passion with a bit of naughty humor and mischief. Features some folklore on spirits in weddings, and on relating the Nubian geography with cultural beliefs and human anatomy and reproduction (esp the Nile and its silt and surrounding land). Different inflection points within the plot occur when flashbacks of one character (Ibn Zibeyda, the narrator) are interrupted by sounds from another character (his wife, Salha) in labor; or interestingly by sounds associated with the narrator’s past memories /thoughts or present-tense developments. These sounds momentarily wake Ibn Zibeyda from a recurring stupor (the space or zone of his flashbacks) caused by marijuana given to him by his uncle/father-in-law. Meanwhile, the flashbacks involve mainly preceding phases of slowly budding romance between Ibn Zibeyda and Salha moving forward. A particular emphasis is given to festive traditional attire, dances, and poetry, lending an air of both passion and harmony which extend beyond the interpersonal towards a communal crescendo. Rather than exploring and questioning the nuances within Nubian identity, belonging, ethos, customs, and physique (as within Adila, Grandmother), Nights of Musk is a wonderfully enchanting, and lighthearted, if occasionally adult-explicit and objectifying, celebration of them. Parental advisory cautioned.
Zeinab Uburty
Land; season; black magic; folklore; cosmic balance.
Longest, and perhaps the main, story of the anthology. Rich in oral folklore and nostalgia, describing a paradise that once existed and suffering through turmoil. Amid vivid paintings of natural phenomena and abnormal mood-setting climatic changes and fantastic creatures, a deterioration of environmental conditions and sexual health bring about societal chaos in wildlife and humans. All attributed to the witch Zeinab Uburty.
Zeinab’s depiction is that of an unflatteringly stereotypical fairytale treatment of the aggressive, angry, misanthrope. Fleeting moments of complexity notwithstanding, that narration simplistically correlates her intelligence, personality, attitude, and personal conduct to her physique. All are unpleasant and rooted to evil and misfortune. Propelled towards a world of darkness by the anguishes of jealousy, societal ostracism, and poor luck in personal relationships, she strikes an ultimately unfulfilling bargain with a mysterious and brutal demonic figure (Kakoky). Like many other tragedies of antiheroes, the Faustian exchange initially seduces her with the deception of invincibility: she succeeds at first in reaching a still-isolated but now-menacing prominence in the villages.
Reflected in her surname or nickname, “Uburty,” there remains an accentuated, if ambiguous, link between ashes (uburty is the Nubian word for ashes or soot) and the misfortunes of climate, topography, and health. There is also a link between ashes and magic. Perhaps there is more elaboration in the original Arabic text. The only full relationship developed between the villagers and the uburty lies in the use of dirt and soot in a specific mourning ritual. Smearing on the skin can be seen as a way to honor the deceased (and their place in the cosmic order) by reconnecting the body/corpse with the earth. (A tradition not unique to Nubia, but which in the novel takes on a fascinating ethno-racial and geographical connotation similar to that of celebrating life through the body’s relationship to the Nile, its riverbed, and its silt as portrayed in Nights of Musk.) However, the gaps in this particular aspect of the story doesn’t detract or deflect too much from the overall plot. We nonetheless feel the eerie uburty.
Also noteworthy are the analogies among human anatomy, man-made tools, agriculture, fauna, and naturally occurring events such as the animal mating season. Enriching the descriptive elements of narration, the analogies integrate the metaphysical with the natural dynamics of (in)fertility/(in)verlity and threads the analogical elements together. Other natural catastrophes assume a similarly remarkable air, or otherwise reinforce the delicate interplay between the natural world and human society, such as volcanic eruptions and movements of the sun across the sky. Coinciding with these are the aforementioned plot lines involving Zeinab and black magic. Thus, Oddoul weaves an intimate relationship between humans, nature, and the supernatural. To ward off both (further) evil and natural disorder, a return to a humbling balance between humanity and nature is key to that relationship.
Oddoul also demonstrates this conceptualization of cosmic balance in his construction of the River People. Found in Zeinab , Musk, and River People, these creatures manifest supernatural and natural characteristics. Perceived to reward, punish, entice and entrance, warn off, or provide assuaging companionship, their demeanor reverberates between the borders of the benign and the malignant. As also briefly highlighted upon in the essay section below, disruption in their world metaphysically and naturally invites disruption amongst humanity and vice-versa.
Finally, the immense misery, desperation, fear, and fragility experienced across the village and its environs are as gnawing as they are bleak. Departing from the bliss of the previous story and the push-and-pull inquisitiveness of the first selection, the only respite to the menacing downturn here arrives at the conclusion.
A gripping and notably violent short story of horror, as recounted by a village elder, with similarities in the fantasmic of other oral African tales. Parental advisory cautioned.
The River People
Aswan Dam and ecological and sociological disruption and forced displacement; unrequited love and other forms of unsatisfactory life; migration; victimization; identity and orientation; suicide.
Second longest and final story of the anthology. Contrasting to Musk, The River People features a romance from the perspective of a young female narrator, Asha. While longing worriedly for the long-absent and distant Siyam (and fending off entreaties from rivaling potential suitors), she describes the environment and the hardships wrought upon her community as a result of the dam’s erection. From displacement and the loss of arable and spacious land, to invasions by venomous creatures, to cycles of male labor migrations and wedding seasons, these alterations upend Asha’s village and others. Notably, Asha also likens the dam to the Ancient Egyptian conquest of the region, laying out the trauma of foreign intrusions across generations. A riparian tragedy incurring further calamity to the community occurs at a monument to the Egyptian pharaohs, reinforcing the reiterative (drama of) victimization. (Unfortunately the story, in its translation, the historical reference here is brief in passing, and I would’ve appreciated a deeper contextualization of the monument to the region. A character with dubious powers of prophecy similarly makes an abrupt appearance, and the story does little to explain his significance.)
Asha’s present is juxtaposed with the history of her deceased grandmother, Asha Ashry. Regarded for her mixed beauty, the physically besieged and emotionally-troubled Ashry finds refuge in abruptly disappearing to be with what the villagers mythically believe as the “River People.” Spuriously gentle creatures of the Nile, they connect, captivate, and provide companionship for both Ashas as their plot lines converge via the fulfillment of a prophecy regarding the river uttered by the elder. Out of entirely different personal reasons, the younger Asha too plunges herself into this putative refuge. One victim flees undesirable and unwarranted attention; the other, from undesirable and unwarranted abandon.
Coupled with both Ashas’ obsessions regarding the Nile River and its mystique, the story’s melancholic centrality on weddings has led some to opine on/ stress the significance of ancient sacrificial traditions as read into the story’s plot lines. That interpretation merges the younger Asha with the Nile world as an intriguing sort of riparian bride. Indeed appearing to reinforce this point, Oddoul uses the occasion to describe her movement towards the water as a person partaking in her marriage(while being encouraged on by the River People, and her search for redemption/absolution). However rather than “being wedded to the River” (and thus sacrificed by others) as the interpretation concludes, my understanding of the younger Asha’s status diverges slightly in the sense of interpreting the riparian world as a character-perceived refuge from her present world (and a character-perceived bridge to reach her beloved).
Like the volcanic eruptions and solar collisions in Zeinab, Oddoul uses the experiences of the two Ashas as a device to reinforce the centrality of balance among humans, nature, and the supernatural. This very ‘wedding’ procession occurs alongside ecological and metaphysical disruptions due to the dam. The world of the River People, Oddoul hints, is knocked out of balance and harmony, stirring up its anxieties, allure, and machinations. So too is Nubian life facing the predicament of misalignment, via the shrinking, separation, and shifting of surrounding villages.
Meanwhile, Oddoul paints an evocative contrast between a perilously corrupting Anglo-Egyptian-Mediterranean north and a shrinking idyllic Nubian south. Salty water, humid atmosphere, and pleasures of the former initially mesmerize and tempt, then perpetuate thirst, lethargy, disease, and estrangement. On the other hand, the geography and pleasures of Nubia are portrayed as revitalizing. Coupled with such material dichotomy is a stark demarcation with social and moral implications that go beyond the strictly medical, individual, or climactic. In the north, far from what was once the homeland, Oddoul’s narrator hints that the entirety of the Nubian (from the emotional and physical to the abstract) is being wasted away. In this particular juxtaposition, no gray space exists between regions or their actors.
Finally, much like Adila, Grandmother, identity and orientation here serve as a device for advancing the narratives, and as a modality for exploring the space of conflict and conciliation against the backdrop of state policy making and personal interactions. In both stories, that gray space is captured in the mixed cultural and racial cognizance and in the flow of interactions stemming therefrom of, or in relation to, the main characters. However, Oddoul’s treatment of such spaces markedly varies from the relatively more hopeful or less bitter ( Adila ) to the more problematic or troubled ( The River People ). That is highlighted in the distinct portrayals of the ghobatis and of the relationships with them. For example, we can contrast Mohamed’s mother and Adila in Adila to the elder Asha Ashry’s father and the villagers in The River People , respectively. As a result, the gray space is presumably more manageable for Mohamed in his world than the two Ashas later on in the novel.
A general pattern moves along with the direction of the gray spaces to encompass other facets of the plots. Apart from the ‘detour’ of Zeinab Uburty, ,a more fluid space initially emerges in the anthology only to be challenged by a more stringent one later on. It is as if Oddoul returns his focus to the ever-shadowing despair and tragedy (of unresolved tensions) not in merely concluding the last story of this anthology, but to round out the entire collection itself. Yet I don’t see a simplistic rendering either inside or outside of the fluid/stringent interplay. All in all, this anthology is an exposition on various forms of movement (displacement; migration; generational progressions and recollections; etc) and belonging (romance and marriage choice; life around particular land and water; negotiating between spaces and interactions of ethnicity, identity; race; etc). At the heart of these dynamics are the experiences of loss and disorientation. Here too is the transition from the more fluid (or accommodating) to the more stringent (or gloomy/sober), despite the enormous frequent despondency (and pessimism) throughout. Whether willful or prompted, they are profound overwhelming constructions and dynamics, but not completely static or solidly set in course; they are also frequently turbulent, but amid the shocks they also indirectly invite an appeal for understanding.
Owing to the summary caption above, a parental advisory is also cautioned for this final story.
Adila, Grandmother.
Migration; identity and orientation; reconciliation.
Simple, straightforward prose and plot. But rich in emotion, and teasing with moments of humor. Themes are evolutions of community and personal relationships on one hand, and of the continuity of despondent reproducible experiences on other. A third theme deals with ruptures in such inertia, implying a possibility of hope and happiness despite overwhelming sadness and estrangement within surroundings (i.e. the village of re-settlement) and within personal connections (Nubian-Gorbati dichotomy, and the mixed space in between).
A final theme deals with cultural, historical and genetic/racial identities found in unique lived experience and also parallels/commonalities thereof. These identities and experiences are framed in the dialectic or tensions between “ Nubian” and “Gorbati,” or conversely between indigeneity and foreignness. In turn, rooted in the concept of migration (both forced displacement and exploratory/economic) and its effects, Oddoul relays this particular dichotomy over modalities of rejection, acceptance, tussling through, and ultimately reconciliation. In the end, it is an overarching framework to encapsulate all other story dynamics.
Though containing solid foundations (and pronounced tensions), it is ultimately a dichotomy that proves not to be as rigid as one initially assumes or as is initially presented. Parallel plot lines reflecting contrasting wisdoms of medical practice help to buttress such a nuance. So too does the complexity of communication and interaction involving, and relating to, three main characters. Meanwhile, despite having a lesser role in the story, one character’s attitudes and interactions remain somewhat incalcitrant and immutable. Oddoul here tosses in a blockage to the flow of the story, paradoxically suggesting that not all people will or can reconcile. What renders this blockage problematic, if simultaneously naturally human, is that we are tempted by the narrative to frown upon the impasse’s underlying motives as having come from condescending biases .
Story flow is in present tense, and time progresses rather swiftly over its plot. A frequently melancholy, if eventually bittersweet and sober, inception to the story collection.
Nights of Musk
Love/romance; cultural traditions including festivities; coming-of-age transitions.
Shortest story despite being the titular entry. Focused on two persons in early adulthood. Adult-oriented, with some delicate and some mature language. Also, Sensual, poetic, and blissful in tone balancing romance and passion with a bit of naughty humor and mischief. Features some folklore on spirits in weddings, and on relating the Nubian geography with cultural beliefs and human anatomy and reproduction (esp the Nile and its silt and surrounding land). Different inflection points within the plot occur when flashbacks of one character (Ibn Zibeyda, the narrator) are interrupted by sounds from another character (his wife, Salha) in labor; or interestingly by sounds associated with the narrator’s past memories /thoughts or present-tense developments. These sounds momentarily wake Ibn Zibeyda from a recurring stupor (the space or zone of his flashbacks) caused by marijuana given to him by his uncle/father-in-law. Meanwhile, the flashbacks involve mainly preceding phases of slowly budding romance between Ibn Zibeyda and Salha moving forward. A particular emphasis is given to festive traditional attire, dances, and poetry, lending an air of both passion and harmony which extend beyond the interpersonal towards a communal crescendo. Rather than exploring and questioning the nuances within Nubian identity, belonging, ethos, customs, and physique (as within Adila, Grandmother), Nights of Musk is a wonderfully enchanting, and lighthearted, if occasionally adult-explicit and objectifying, celebration of them. Parental advisory cautioned.
Zeinab Uburty
Land; season; black magic; folklore; cosmic balance.
Longest, and perhaps the main, story of the anthology. Rich in oral folklore and nostalgia, describing a paradise that once existed and suffering through turmoil. Amid vivid paintings of natural phenomena and abnormal mood-setting climatic changes and fantastic creatures, a deterioration of environmental conditions and sexual health bring about societal chaos in wildlife and humans. All attributed to the witch Zeinab Uburty.
Zeinab’s depiction is that of an unflatteringly stereotypical fairytale treatment of the aggressive, angry, misanthrope. Fleeting moments of complexity notwithstanding, that narration simplistically correlates her intelligence, personality, attitude, and personal conduct to her physique. All are unpleasant and rooted to evil and misfortune. Propelled towards a world of darkness by the anguishes of jealousy, societal ostracism, and poor luck in personal relationships, she strikes an ultimately unfulfilling bargain with a mysterious and brutal demonic figure (Kakoky). Like many other tragedies of antiheroes, the Faustian exchange initially seduces her with the deception of invincibility: she succeeds at first in reaching a still-isolated but now-menacing prominence in the villages.
Reflected in her surname or nickname, “Uburty,” there remains an accentuated, if ambiguous, link between ashes (uburty is the Nubian word for ashes or soot) and the misfortunes of climate, topography, and health. There is also a link between ashes and magic. Perhaps there is more elaboration in the original Arabic text. The only full relationship developed between the villagers and the uburty lies in the use of dirt and soot in a specific mourning ritual. Smearing on the skin can be seen as a way to honor the deceased (and their place in the cosmic order) by reconnecting the body/corpse with the earth. (A tradition not unique to Nubia, but which in the novel takes on a fascinating ethno-racial and geographical connotation similar to that of celebrating life through the body’s relationship to the Nile, its riverbed, and its silt as portrayed in Nights of Musk.) However, the gaps in this particular aspect of the story doesn’t detract or deflect too much from the overall plot. We nonetheless feel the eerie uburty.
Also noteworthy are the analogies among human anatomy, man-made tools, agriculture, fauna, and naturally occurring events such as the animal mating season. Enriching the descriptive elements of narration, the analogies integrate the metaphysical with the natural dynamics of (in)fertility/(in)verlity and threads the analogical elements together. Other natural catastrophes assume a similarly remarkable air, or otherwise reinforce the delicate interplay between the natural world and human society, such as volcanic eruptions and movements of the sun across the sky. Coinciding with these are the aforementioned plot lines involving Zeinab and black magic. Thus, Oddoul weaves an intimate relationship between humans, nature, and the supernatural. To ward off both (further) evil and natural disorder, a return to a humbling balance between humanity and nature is key to that relationship.
Oddoul also demonstrates this conceptualization of cosmic balance in his construction of the River People. Found in Zeinab , Musk, and River People, these creatures manifest supernatural and natural characteristics. Perceived to reward, punish, entice and entrance, warn off, or provide assuaging companionship, their demeanor reverberates between the borders of the benign and the malignant. As also briefly highlighted upon in the essay section below, disruption in their world metaphysically and naturally invites disruption amongst humanity and vice-versa.
Finally, the immense misery, desperation, fear, and fragility experienced across the village and its environs are as gnawing as they are bleak. Departing from the bliss of the previous story and the push-and-pull inquisitiveness of the first selection, the only respite to the menacing downturn here arrives at the conclusion.
A gripping and notably violent short story of horror, as recounted by a village elder, with similarities in the fantasmic of other oral African tales. Parental advisory cautioned.
The River People
Aswan Dam and ecological and sociological disruption and forced displacement; unrequited love and other forms of unsatisfactory life; migration; victimization; identity and orientation; suicide.
Second longest and final story of the anthology. Contrasting to Musk, The River People features a romance from the perspective of a young female narrator, Asha. While longing worriedly for the long-absent and distant Siyam (and fending off entreaties from rivaling potential suitors), she describes the environment and the hardships wrought upon her community as a result of the dam’s erection. From displacement and the loss of arable and spacious land, to invasions by venomous creatures, to cycles of male labor migrations and wedding seasons, these alterations upend Asha’s village and others. Notably, Asha also likens the dam to the Ancient Egyptian conquest of the region, laying out the trauma of foreign intrusions across generations. A riparian tragedy incurring further calamity to the community occurs at a monument to the Egyptian pharaohs, reinforcing the reiterative (drama of) victimization. (Unfortunately the story, in its translation, the historical reference here is brief in passing, and I would’ve appreciated a deeper contextualization of the monument to the region. A character with dubious powers of prophecy similarly makes an abrupt appearance, and the story does little to explain his significance.)
Asha’s present is juxtaposed with the history of her deceased grandmother, Asha Ashry. Regarded for her mixed beauty, the physically besieged and emotionally-troubled Ashry finds refuge in abruptly disappearing to be with what the villagers mythically believe as the “River People.” Spuriously gentle creatures of the Nile, they connect, captivate, and provide companionship for both Ashas as their plot lines converge via the fulfillment of a prophecy regarding the river uttered by the elder. Out of entirely different personal reasons, the younger Asha too plunges herself into this putative refuge. One victim flees undesirable and unwarranted attention; the other, from undesirable and unwarranted abandon.
Coupled with both Ashas’ obsessions regarding the Nile River and its mystique, the story’s melancholic centrality on weddings has led some to opine on/ stress the significance of ancient sacrificial traditions as read into the story’s plot lines. That interpretation merges the younger Asha with the Nile world as an intriguing sort of riparian bride. Indeed appearing to reinforce this point, Oddoul uses the occasion to describe her movement towards the water as a person partaking in her marriage(while being encouraged on by the River People, and her search for redemption/absolution). However rather than “being wedded to the River” (and thus sacrificed by others) as the interpretation concludes, my understanding of the younger Asha’s status diverges slightly in the sense of interpreting the riparian world as a character-perceived refuge from her present world (and a character-perceived bridge to reach her beloved).
Like the volcanic eruptions and solar collisions in Zeinab, Oddoul uses the experiences of the two Ashas as a device to reinforce the centrality of balance among humans, nature, and the supernatural. This very ‘wedding’ procession occurs alongside ecological and metaphysical disruptions due to the dam. The world of the River People, Oddoul hints, is knocked out of balance and harmony, stirring up its anxieties, allure, and machinations. So too is Nubian life facing the predicament of misalignment, via the shrinking, separation, and shifting of surrounding villages.
Meanwhile, Oddoul paints an evocative contrast between a perilously corrupting Anglo-Egyptian-Mediterranean north and a shrinking idyllic Nubian south. Salty water, humid atmosphere, and pleasures of the former initially mesmerize and tempt, then perpetuate thirst, lethargy, disease, and estrangement. On the other hand, the geography and pleasures of Nubia are portrayed as revitalizing. Coupled with such material dichotomy is a stark demarcation with social and moral implications that go beyond the strictly medical, individual, or climactic. In the north, far from what was once the homeland, Oddoul’s narrator hints that the entirety of the Nubian (from the emotional and physical to the abstract) is being wasted away. In this particular juxtaposition, no gray space exists between regions or their actors.
Finally, much like Adila, Grandmother, identity and orientation here serve as a device for advancing the narratives, and as a modality for exploring the space of conflict and conciliation against the backdrop of state policy making and personal interactions. In both stories, that gray space is captured in the mixed cultural and racial cognizance and in the flow of interactions stemming therefrom of, or in relation to, the main characters. However, Oddoul’s treatment of such spaces markedly varies from the relatively more hopeful or less bitter ( Adila ) to the more problematic or troubled ( The River People ). That is highlighted in the distinct portrayals of the ghobatis and of the relationships with them. For example, we can contrast Mohamed’s mother and Adila in Adila to the elder Asha Ashry’s father and the villagers in The River People , respectively. As a result, the gray space is presumably more manageable for Mohamed in his world than the two Ashas later on in the novel.
A general pattern moves along with the direction of the gray spaces to encompass other facets of the plots. Apart from the ‘detour’ of Zeinab Uburty, ,a more fluid space initially emerges in the anthology only to be challenged by a more stringent one later on. It is as if Oddoul returns his focus to the ever-shadowing despair and tragedy (of unresolved tensions) not in merely concluding the last story of this anthology, but to round out the entire collection itself. Yet I don’t see a simplistic rendering either inside or outside of the fluid/stringent interplay. All in all, this anthology is an exposition on various forms of movement (displacement; migration; generational progressions and recollections; etc) and belonging (romance and marriage choice; life around particular land and water; negotiating between spaces and interactions of ethnicity, identity; race; etc). At the heart of these dynamics are the experiences of loss and disorientation. Here too is the transition from the more fluid (or accommodating) to the more stringent (or gloomy/sober), despite the enormous frequent despondency (and pessimism) throughout. Whether willful or prompted, they are profound overwhelming constructions and dynamics, but not completely static or solidly set in course; they are also frequently turbulent, but amid the shocks they also indirectly invite an appeal for understanding.
Owing to the summary caption above, a parental advisory is also cautioned for this final story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 22, 2014
تنقلك تلك المجموعة بكل بساطة الى أرض النوبة الجميلة لتعرف ما لا تعرفه عن ناسها وعاداتهم وافراحه واحزانهم
February 19, 2023
قصص مكتوبة بعذوبة وسلاسة مدهشة
أفضل ما أعجبني فيهم هي قصة أديلا يا جدتي
أفضل ما أعجبني فيهم هي قصة أديلا يا جدتي
April 27, 2015
One fine evening, I was going through the shelves at the University Library and found this book. I did what I do best when I like a book: I brought the book home!
The four stories, "Adila Grandmother", "Nights of musk", "Zeinab Uberty" and "The River People" are beautifully created and give an insight into the lives of the Nubians. It is so well-done that I felt the unbearable sun, the love, heard the songs, watched the rhythmic dances, the beautiful people, the unions, the deaths.
It is nothing short of an Anthropological ethnography written with a nostalgic heart.
The four stories, "Adila Grandmother", "Nights of musk", "Zeinab Uberty" and "The River People" are beautifully created and give an insight into the lives of the Nubians. It is so well-done that I felt the unbearable sun, the love, heard the songs, watched the rhythmic dances, the beautiful people, the unions, the deaths.
It is nothing short of an Anthropological ethnography written with a nostalgic heart.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews