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Censorship of Palestinians is So Normal, Even Antiracists Don’t See It

November 9, 2022 by Nora Lester Murad

This guest post exploring censorship of Palestinian children’s books was first published on Betsy Bird’s blog on School Library Journal.

www.IdaInTheMiddle.com

I started researching censorship of Palestinian children’s books out of concern that my forthcoming young adult novel, Ida in the Middle, could be attacked or banned because the protagonist is a Palestinian-American. Ida is an 8th grader who faces ridicule and bullying at school and finds her strength by connecting with the struggle for self-determination happening in Palestine. Ida’s experiences in her Massachusetts school are loosely based on my youngest daughter’s junior year about which she says, “I didn’t feel like they kicked me out because they had never included me in the first place.” I later spoke with many Palestinian kids with shocking stories of racism, exclusion and invisibility in US schools all of whom thought they were the only one – because no one talks about anti-Palestinian racism.

Palestinians aren’t on the radar of most advocates for marginalized books

What I’m finding in my research about censorship of Palestinians is concerning. Although advocates of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn stand up (appropriately so!) for books about Black, brown and queer communities, the intense, multilayered censorship of Palestinians goes virtually unchallenged – and, in fact, unnoticed. Simply put, Palestinians and their literature are invisible to organizations like the American Library Association, National Coalition Against Censorship, and the National Council of Teachers of English, among others. A good example of this is PEN America’s oft-cited report, America’s Censored Classrooms, which doesn’t even mention Palestinians, although there is a barrage of legislation targeting them, and overwhelming documentation of censorship of Palestinians.

For example, earlier this month, Independent Jewish Voices (IJV) released a detailed, 97-page study of harassment, intimidation and repression against Palestinians in education that includes interference in hiring, classroom surveillance, restrictions on campus groups, demands for the censure or dismissal of pro-Palestinian faculty and students, and obstruction of pro-Palestinian events. They found that the constant and increasing harassment creates a “chilly” environment which threatens academic freedom, muzzles scholarly production, obstructs academic careers, encourages mendacious and malicious discourse, and stifles legitimate protest. More than that, they paint a picture of life for many Palestinian teachers and students that is painful and unfair.

The IJV report focuses on Canadian higher education.  Here at home, Palestine Legal, a Chicago-based nonprofit co-published a study with the Center for Constitutional Rights in 2015 called, “The Palestine Exception to Free Speech” showing the same tactics are used in the United States. In nearly 100 pages and with accompanying videos, they explore a range of silencing tactics that are pervasive across US higher education institutions, including monitoring and surveillance, falsely equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism, unfounded accusations of support for terrorism, official denunciations, bureaucratic barriers, administrative sanctions, cancellations and alterations of academic and cultural events, threats to academic freedom, lawsuits and legal threats, and more. In the US, as in Canada, simply being Palestinian seems a provocation, which is hard enough for adults, but imagine being a Palestinian student facing this type of racism in school?

Information about attacks on Palestinians in education is anecdotal but abundant

Although no one seems to be systematically tracking the impact of censorship of Palestinians in K-12 education in the US, there is abundant evidence of harassment aiming to censor Palestinian and pro-Palestinian voices. For example, the Liberated Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum Consortium (LESMCC) has been slapped with a lawsuit because of their inclusion of Palestinians in the curriculum, and teachers not limited to the LESMCC teachers are experiencing administrative harassment in the form of tens if not hundreds of public records requests, not to mention threats to individuals and institutions.

In a separate incident, Palestinian-American teacher, Natalie Abulhawa, was fired from a private, all-girls school called Agnes Irwin for social media posts that were nearly a decade old and were found on a known Islamophobic site, according to the Council on American Islamic Relations. 

Attacks on Palestinian books also happen. In a well-known case, a NY bookstore was attacked  for their support of the picture book P is for Palestine (Bashi Goldbarg, self-published), and a Hannukah reading of the book organized by anti-zionist Jews was attacked by right-wing Israel supporters. 

More recently, Kayla Hoskinson, a librarian in Philadelphia was disciplined for an antiracist post that mentioned Rifk Ebeid’s picture book, Baba, What Does My Name Mean? (self-published) and references to Ebeid’s book and the works of Palestinian poet laureate Naomi Shihab Nye were censored.

Another recent library censorship case occurred in San Francisco over ideas about Zionism and racism. San Francisco Public Library canceled an art exhibit and public event when organizers refused to remove text that ACLU lawyers said was protected by the First Amendment. The library’s explanatory statement said: “… the Library retains the right to determine the suitability of any proposed exhibition to be included in the Library’s exhibition program. The Library also reserves the right to reject any part of an exhibition or to change the manner of display.” But if a library has the right to reject any part of an exhibition, they also have the right to include it, despite pressure from politically-motivated interest groups.

Librarian Kayla Hoskinson talks about the chilling effect of this kind of censorship. 

“Attacks against librarians and teachers for including Palestine in their curriculum are definitely noticed by our colleagues. Some are unafraid to move forward with me to plan and host programs about Palestine. More colleagues, though, see what happened to me and don’t want the trouble. Even if they agree, they know they will not be supported against attacks. ALA really needs to re-develop policies and guidelines about neutrality in the field.”

Very few children’s books about Palestine are being published

But when it comes to traditional bans–the listing of books that are forbidden in schools and libraries–attacks on Palestinian books seem more opportunistic and ad hoc rather than systematic and ambitious like the ones directed against Black, brown and queer books.

This may be because there are so few books about Palestine. For example, the Diverse Book Finder studied over 2000 picture books published since 2002 and found only 3% fell into the broad Middle Eastern category. How few of those are Palestinian?

In a study I’m currently doing with several Palestinian teachers to produce a framework that educators and librarians can use to evaluate books involving Palestine, we found that a full 40% of our sample of books about Palestine authored by Palestinians were self published, indicating that censorship is happening before publication. This means that fantastic children’s books like Tala Fahmawi’s self-published Salim’s Soccer Ball get only limited visibility and lack the library-attractive credibility that comes along with being traditionally published.

Sadly, the problem is not merely one of oversight or negligence. In a webinar called “Translating Palestine,” translator Sawad Hussain said she had been told outright by some editors that they are afraid to work with Palestinian authors lest they be seen as too political or publishing “too many Palestinian authors.” Translator Marcia Lynx Qualey said that even books accepted for publication are often “bulletproofed,” which she described as scrubbed of content Palestine’s opponents would claim is offensive.  

Palestine is a taboo topic due to fear and politicization

My publisher, Interlink Books, founded by Palestinian-American Michel Moushabeck has provided a much-needed pathway for Palestinian books and books about Palestine to reach US readers, yet he too has faced challenges. Most recently, Malak Mattar’s Sitti’s Bird: A Gaza Story (2022) has been unable to get a single mention or review in trade publications and mainstream media, unlike all the other picture books he’s published. Moushabeck says, “It’s because it’s a Palestinian story of trauma. We knew this would happen because the same thing happens to all our titles written by Palestinians. Some editors do not assign books by Palestinians for review–especially ones they deem controversial or think can get them into trouble.”

The consequences of the censorship of Palestinian children’s books goes far beyond the impact on Palestinian authors and Palestinian children. As the ALA’s Unite Against Book Bans campaign says, without books:

“Students cannot access critical information to help them understand themselves and the world around them. Parents lose the opportunity to engage in teachable moments with their kids. And communities lose the opportunity to learn and build mutual understanding.”

American Library Association

Applying principles of intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn to Palestinian topics

For the ALA and other librarians and educators who advocate for intellectual freedom, freedom to teach and the right to learn, Palestine should be with others at the frontline of the struggle. Some even argue that Palestine is the litmus test of antiracists’ commitment to rights for all. For this reason, I hope organizations like the American Library Association, the National Coalition Against Censorship, PEN America, the NCTE and others who librarians and educators look to for leadership will become proactive in rejecting the violent silencing and criminalization of Palestinian voices. I hope they will step forward to demand intellectual freedom, the freedom to teach and the right to learn not only for some, but for those who most need to be uplifted in order to be heard, including Palestinians.

Fragmented Love in Alison Glick’s “The Other End of the Sea”

May 16, 2022 by Nora Lester Murad

This Palestinian book review originally appeared in The Markaz Review.

It would be easy to focus on the Jewish protagonist in Alison Glick’s debut novel The Other End of the Sea. After all, it was the search for her roots that first took Rebecca Klein to Israel. But like the author, whose visit to Israel “opened her eyes to the realities for Palestinians living under Israeli control,” the protagonist, too, was captivated not by Israel, but by Palestine.

Palestinian Book Review: The Other End of the Sea - Alison Glick (Book Cover)
Available from Interlink

The premise — a US Jew who evolves to support Palestinian rights — is more than plausible. Increasingly, Jewish Americans are becoming informed about Israeli history, and they are more vocal in critiquing Israel’s policies — Peter Beinart being only one case among many who are speaking out and taking action based on the principle of liberation for all.

But The Other End of the Sea is not another pro-Palestinian screed, it is a bona fide love story, complete with the tenderness, pain, intimacy and miscommunication that define any romantic relationship.

In this narrative, Rebecca Klein meets Zayn Majdalawi in the early 1980s in a taxi cab as both try to find a way out of Gaza. Zayn is a refugee from Shati camp studying in the West Bank, where Rebecca works as a teacher in the Quaker school. Even this plot point — a US Jew falling in love with a Palestinian Muslim — is conceivable. In fact, I myself am an American Jewish woman who married a Palestinian Muslim, and in our nearly forty years together, we have met many other “mixed” couples.

The rest of the plot, however, is completely far-fetched. Despite already serving fifteen years as a political prisoner, Zayn gets exiled by Israel and over the next several years, the couple move between Egypt, Lebanon, Libya and Syria trying to find a safe and secure place to raise their daughter. On the way, Rebecca sees the inner workings of Palestinian families, refugee camps, the life of exiles, political strategizing, and so much more. The protagonist, Rebecca, takes the reader deep into places and situations that no non-Palestinian could ever see.

Except for one thing: The Other End of the Sea is a fictionalized memoir, based closely on the life of the author, Alison Glick. Those “far-fetched” events and forays into the depths of Palestinian experience really happened. It is a story that no one else could have told.

Glick takes readers through a unique and important experience — that of Palestinian exiles. Her masterful storytelling is gripping, pulling us fully into every scene. Over the course of the 30-year-long story, each historical event, place, situation and person erupts into Technicolor. Something as mundane as watching her husband eat melons is told in a way that makes the reader salivate:

In the late morning light, juice the color of a harvest moon ran in rivulets down his smooth arms as, one after the other, he sliced through the fruit’s flesh, scooped out the seeds, and quartered them, methodically eating each one down to the rind. The waiting garbage can registered each fruit with a clunk.

I related deeply to the charged moments at which Rebecca and Zayn just couldn’t understand one another. In one situation, Rebecca expresses her liberal values around gender relations, values that Zayn had always shared. But in a foreign country, and beaten down by his exile, Zayn is overwhelmed. He throws up his hands and says, “You just don’t get it, do you?” Neither is able to explain themselves across the cultural divide, widened by trauma and despair.

Like all good fiction — and effective memoir writing — Glick tells a story that is not only entertaining, but one that matters. Even though politics and culture pervade every aspect of the story, the book centers on one thing: The impact of Israel’s fragmentation of Palestine on a family.

Of course, the story of Palestinian fragmentation cannot be fully captured in a single novel, and it did not end on the last page of Glick’s book. With a population of around 13 million today, there are over 2 million Palestinians living as second-class citizens in Israel, 2.5 million under Israeli occupation in the West Bank, and 2 million living under Israeli siege in the Gaza Strip. Another 3 million Palestinians live in Jordan, with the rest scattered across the Arab world, Europe, Latin America and North America, each group with a different, often precarious, legal status. Nearly every Palestinian is touched by this fragmentation: grandparents are strangers to their grandchildren, aunts miss their nieces’ weddings, and brothers are absent from their brothers’ death beds.

It’s not surprising, then, that love, no matter how strong, can choke from the toxicity of this fragmentation. This shows up poignantly, and tragically, in Glick’s life and her brilliant novel. At one point in the story, Rebecca returns to the house in Gaza she shared with Zayn, a house to which Zayn can no longer go. She says:

“Standing in that hushed house, I understood that it wasn’t the Palestine Street chickens or leftovers that shifted the course of our relationship. It was the realization that despite all we had lost — friends, family, our home, our work — there was still more left to lose.”

Pushing back against right wing attacks on education by centering Palestinian voices

March 28, 2022 by Nora Lester Murad

This book review was first published by Mondoweiss on March 24, 2022

Determined to Stay: Palestinian Youth Fight for Their Village by Jody Sokolower is one of the rare non-fiction, young adult books that center contemporary Palestinian experiences and voices.

Teachers and students will quickly recognize that this valuable resource was written by a skilled educator, and one with deep knowledge about how to teach social justice issues to youth. After working as a classroom teacher in middle and high school settings, Jody spent eight years as managing editor of the social justice publisher Rethinking Schools, during which she edited two groundbreaking books. She now works as co-coordinator of the Teach Palestine Project at the Middle East Children’s Alliance and helps lead the National Liberated Ethnic Studies Coalition.

PALESTINIAN YOUTHS CONFRONT ISRAELI SOLDIERS DURING THE CLASHES IN THE EAST JERUSALEM NEIGHBORHOOD OF SILWAN, WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 22, 2010. (PHOTO: MAHFOUZ ABU TURK/APA IMAGES)

The structure and content of Determined to Stay utilize and model best practices in teaching material that is unfamiliar to students and about which there are different and potentially conflicting perspectives. For example, a compare-and-contrast approach is woven throughout the book enabling readers not only to learn about Palestine, but about their own communities. This starts right at the beginning with a framing introduction by Nick Estes (Lower Brule Sioux), co-founder of Red Nation, a Native American resistance organization. Past and current examples of US colonialism are integrated throughout the book, giving readers a home base from which they can venture out to understand what’s happening in Palestine. She also includes the stories of Palestinian-Americans, who only infrequently get to see themselves in books. The inclusion of Palestinian-American stories helps non-Palestinian readers understand that the issues in the book are relevant in the US, not just “over there.”

The bulk of the content is Palestinians telling their own stories. The reader “hears” about Palestinian youth’s lives in their own words. Sokolower does not explain what Palestinians say or give her own opinions. She lets Palestinians’ voices stand on their own. She models self-reflection for the reader by gently commenting on her own experiences in light of what she learns from the Palestinians she interviews. She also models for readers the importance of considering one’s own social location and biases. She reminds the reader that she is an older, white, Jewish woman from the US, and that reality shapes her experiences and perspective.

The chapters are short, between 5-10 pages, and can be easily woven into lessons in various disciplines at different levels. Given that the material is heavy and may be new to readers, these short bites are perfect for taking in an aspect of Palestinian youth’s lives, and connecting the learning to previous chapters and other material they are discussing in school.

Available from Interlink Books

It is refreshing that Determined to Stay starts small. It doesn’t try to explain the entire background and history of what’s going on. Context and history are included in reference to Silwan, the village that is the subject of the book. Most importantly, it doesn’t try to “balance” what Palestinians say with opposing views, a tactic used in US media and educational settings to undermine Palestinian voice.

Showing her expertise in social justice education, Sokolower addresses hard issues like arrest of youth, demolition of homes, harassment by Israeli soldiers, the lasting effects of trauma, and more. But in every instance, she highlights the way that Palestinian youth cope, find agency, support one another and resist.

In this way, the difficult aspects of life under military occupation and siege do not define Palestinians, nor do they overwhelm readers. They are actors who think and act and offer hope for change. Seeing them act inspires us to consider how we, too, can act to improve our situations.

There are some maps, artwork and photos. The most important photos are of young Palestinians in a variety of settings, including dancing and playing as well as being arrested and resisting. Since many US readers never meet a Palestinian, they are subject to the ways Palestinians are framed, often as “terrorists,” in US media. Humanizing images are critical for young readers to be able to relate to and connect with the stories of their counterparts in Palestine.

Although Determined to Stay: Palestinian Youth Fight for Their Village is clearly about youth, it is not immediately obvious from the cover that it is for young readers. Adult readers, including teachers, will also benefit from the book, but there are plenty of other books for adults that address Palestinian topics. Determined to Stay: Palestinian Youth Fight for Their Village fills a void because it is aimed at youth readers, and it raises the bar for forthcoming books for this audience.

Sadly, despite increasing interest in Palestine and Palestinians in the US, it is getting harder for K-12 teachers to bring Palestinian perspectives into the classroom. Attacks on what is erroneously called “Critical Race Theory” are the most recent indication of the politicization and divisiveness of public discourse around education. Educators with social justice sensibilities, however, understand that the key to constructive civic discourse is not banning certain books or ideas, but rather prioritizing skills in listening, evaluating facts, analyzing different narratives, forming opinions, and engaging in civil discussion across lines of difference. Determined to Stay: Palestinian Youth Fight for Their Village is a valuable resource for all of us who want to keep education relevant, honest and effective in our struggle to improve the world in which we live.

Podcast: Mouin Rabbani interviews Nora Lester Murad & Alison Glick on Jadiliyya

November 12, 2021 by Nora Lester Murad

This 50-minute conversation, recorded on November 9, 2021, covers how Allison and I “found” Palestine, what it has meant to us as “foreigners” and Jews, and how we wish to contribute to social justice through our fiction writing.

An Interview With Author and Activist Nora Lester Murad: Palestinian Narratives, Shared Trauma, and Moving Forward as a Community by Ramona Wadi

October 22, 2020 by Nora Lester Murad

This interview first appeared in The Muslim Vibe.

What we know of Palestine can be traced directly to media reports, but how much of that knowledge is traced back to the Palestinian people themselves? 

In recent years there has been a renewed emphasis on the importance of communicating Palestinian narratives, many of which have been silenced. The international community has long forced its own constructions of what Palestine is and who Palestinians are, eliminating the voices of Palestinians in the process unless these serve to substantiate a diplomacy that has enabled Israeli colonisation. Gradually, the world normalised the international community’s version of Palestine and paid less heed to the Palestinians themselves.

The recent drive to push Palestinian narratives to the helm has shifted perceptions. Palestinian refugees, for example, are no longer only perceived as part of the humanitarian paradigm but as individuals, and also a collective, who were active participants in their own history.

To heighten awareness about Palestinian narratives, the fine line between speaking for Palestinians and creating the space for Palestinian voices to be heard needed to be drawn. Equally important, what is the role of non-Palestinians with regard to Palestine? 

Nora Lester Murad’s books, “Rest in My Shade” and “I Found Myself in Palestine”, both published by Interlink Books, are examples of a non-Palestinian imparting Palestine to an international audience. Speaking to The Muslim Vibe, she discusses her positioning, understanding, empathy, and affinity with Palestine, and how these have impacted her writing about the land and the people.

Ramona Wadi: Can you speak about your experience in Palestine and how much of a role did affinity play in the publication of your two books, ‘Rest In My Shade’ and ‘I Found Myself In Palestine’?

Nora Lester Murad: My relationship with Palestine goes back almost 40 years. Finding myself in the Middle East in 1982 was a fluke. I didn’t know anything about a conflict, but people kept pushing me to take sides. As a Jew, I felt complicit, but I was too ignorant to contribute to a solution. I committed to learning about Palestinian history and culture assuming that it would be difficult for me to relate to. But it was not difficult at all.

My first Palestinian friendships formed while I was studying abroad in Cairo and Jerusalem. I married my Muslim Palestinian husband in 1989. I worked as an organiser for Palestinian rights and incorporated Palestine liberation into my antiracism work in the US. Since I developed my political and social consciousness in relation to Palestine (among other issues), if you took Palestine away from me, there would be a massive hole.

Being a mother to three Palestinian-American girls who we raised in the West Bank entrenches me in an even deeper way. I think that co-writing “Rest in My Shade” and editing “I Found Myself in Palestine” (and two novels that are yet unpublished) helped me to bridge the gaps between who I was born and who I have become. Writing also helps me fulfill an obligation I feel to bring Westerners/English readers closer to understanding Palestine on its own terms and not through the lens of a distorted Zionist narrative.

“Rest In My Shade” evokes the ongoing Palestinian trauma. Can you elaborate upon this expression and experience from your observations? 

I’m not sure I’ve ever met a Palestinian who didn’t have loss and displacement central in their sense of self. Many carry trauma from the past and ongoing oppression and fragmentation of their people into their daily lives. Innumerable times I have been advised by Palestinian friends not to hope too much, not to try too hard, not to care so deeply — because I would inevitably be disappointed.

They grew up with a lived understanding of the injustices of the world that I only learned as I grew older. But at the same time, the feeling of not belonging is one that many people can relate to. The theme of “Rest in My Shade” — the yearning for belonging and community — is central to the Palestinian people, but it is not exclusive to them. The process of co-authoring “Rest in My Shade” showed me that while Palestinian experience is particular, there are aspects that can be universally understood.

‘I Found Myself In Palestine’ invokes a more tangible account of life in Palestine from different non-Palestinian perspectives – a human, ordinary, everyday account that is overlooked due to the political implications. How does this contribute for people to understand the political and social context? 

“I Found Myself in Palestine” is unique because it is comprised of stories by non-Palestinians who are, nonetheless, members of the Palestinian community. We have an insider-outsider perspective that sheds light beyond what non-Palestinians experience when they connect with Palestine grounded solely in their own national/cultural/historic reference points. We also have perspectives that are distinct from the Palestinians we live among.

The group of 23 writers featured in “I Found Myself in Palestine” didn’t set out to explain Palestine to others. We wrote to understand our own experiences through our writing. For many of us, the process was one of healing from the pain of living between different worlds, not fully a part of any one group. I do hope, though, that reading the pieces helps readers see Palestinians as human beings like any others and to broaden their impression of Palestinians beyond that of characters on a political stage. Humanising Palestinians can’t help but improve people’s support for Palestinian human rights.

As a non-Palestinian writing about Palestine, how is the boundary between narrating Palestine and speaking for Palestinians maintained, to avoid the latter?

There is a huge body of harmful literature by non-Palestinians claiming to speak for Palestinians. I certainly don’t want any of my work to fall into that category. Palestinians can and should speak for themselves — this is at the forefront of my mind whenever I write.

First of all, I make every effort to not misrepresent myself as a Palestinian. I use both my maiden and married names. I try to be explicit that I am writing from my own social location as a white, US, anti-Zionist Jew who is part of a Palestinian family and is a long-time activist for Palestinian rights.

Second, I try to write about my own experiences and opinions. I remind myself that my own experiences and opinions are not more “correct” or valuable than a Palestinian’s, but they are just as legitimate. In other words, I don’t think we need to avoid writing or talking about Palestine. We just need to be careful that we don’t claim to represent Palestinians or imply that our interpretations are more credible than their own self-representation.

At the same time, since Palestinian voices are so often marginalised, we need to be intentional about amplifying Palestinian voices and protecting space for them to speak their own truths without qualification. Mariam Barghouti writes about this eloquently in the foreword to the book.


Nora Lester Murad’s books, “Rest in My Shade” and “I Found Myself in Palestine”, are both published by Interlink Books.

“Rest in My Shade” – finally a real book

September 20, 2018 by Nora Lester Murad

This beautiful hardback gift book, co-authored by Danna Masad and I, has been years in the making. Now, with the invaluable support of the Palestine Museum US, the book will be released by Interlink Publishers by mid-November – in time for the holiday buying season.

Can you help spread the word?

** Share our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/RestinMyShade/
with all your friends and ask them to share it too; every day or two we’ll post new content, including biographies of the artists and other fun facts. Check out (and share!) the book’s webpage at www.restinmyshade.com. We also have an Instagram at rest_in_my_shade, that needs more activity.

** Please send names and contact info for bookstores, galleries and museums that you think might want to sell the book (if you’re not able to suggest they carry the book, the publisher will follow up). Please send names of organizations that might want to host an event about displacement at which the book can be featured. If there are publications or journalists who you think might cover a story related to the book, please send their contact information to me (the publisher will follow up).

** And here’s exciting information! For every person who pre-orders Rest in My Shade (from a bookstore, the publisher, Amazon or from us directly) prior to the official release, we will donate a copy of the book to an organization that serves or advocates for refugees and displaced people. They only need to send us an email at info [at] restinmyshade.com and say they pre-ordered.

** Any other ideas about how Rest in My Shade can be used as a tool in classrooms, interfaith groups, advocacy, media work, fundraising, etc. are very welcome!

As we watch the continued events in Gaza (where two of our artists live), and the human suffering of displaced people all over the world, it’s more important than ever to reach new audiences with the message that home is a human right.

On Translation: Shadi Rohana on the Joys and Disasters of Spanish-Arabic Translation

May 25, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

This article first appeared here in Arabic Literature in English.

On May 15, Nakba Day, Shadi Rohana, a Mexico-based literary translator, attracted a devoted group of literary enthusiasts to the historic Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center in Ramallah. They came to discuss José Emilio Pacheco’s Las batallas en el desierto [Battles in the Desert/معارك الصحراء]].

Shadi Rohana with Budour Hassan
Shadi Rohana with Budour Hassan

Shadi has introduced and translated a number of Latin American authors from Spanish into Arabic, including Rodolfo Walsh, Yolanda Oreamuno, David Huerta, Eduardo Galeano and José Emilio Pacheco, as well as speeches and declarations from the EZLN in Chiapas, but Las batallas en el desierto  is his first novel-length work.

To be honest, while I had always realized the relevance of translating Arabic literature into other languages to get Arab perspectives into the global consciousness, I had not previously taken the time to consider the importance – and politics – of translating literature from other languages into Arabic.

Curious, I spoke to Shadi, the translator, and the moderator of the session, Budour Hassan, a well-known political commentator with extensive knowledge about literature. She blogs in several languages.

Nora: What attracted you to learn Spanish, your fourth language after Arabic, Hebrew and English?

Shadi: I started learning Spanish when I found myself as a college student in the United States. I knew one of the good things US colleges offer is study abroad programs and I wanted to go to Cuba. But it was during the rule of Bush II and the embargo was tightened, so I couldn’t go through my college. But in the meantime I was learning Spanish from professors from Mexico, Venezuela, and El Salvador, and I discovered there is a whole continent I really knew nothing of. So, in the process of learning a new language there was also a process of opening up to the region of Latin America, which to me at the time was something totally new, intriguing and attractive. It was like being a little child and growing all over again.

Does the experience of translation, or your attraction to it, have anything to do with being Palestinian?

Shadi: I’m not sure. It is true that Palestinians speak many languages. To find a Palestinian who speaks only Arabic is practically impossible. Everyone I know has had to work as a translator at some point for some NGO or agency, when they were short of money. Also, given Israel’s position in the world, we are always expected to explain “the situation” to others, whether at home or abroad. This can be considered a kind of translation. But literary translation is something else and it requires, first and foremost, personal initiative, learning, and love for literature, not only the ability to explain one world to people from another.

How does your knowledge of so many languages affect your translation from Spanish to Arabic? Do you mediate through other languages?

Shadi: When I translate between Spanish and Arabic I am very self-conscious about avoiding reading or consulting other translations (English or Hebrew). One of the disasters in the Arab and Spanish-language literary worlds is that you can still find translations that are not direct, which go through other languages first (usually either English or French). This, today, is unacceptable since there are people who are capable of working between Arabic and Spanish without any other “mediating” language.

Budour: Shadi is definitely one of the few translators who translates directly from Spanish to Arabic, which is rare not just among Palestinians but among Arabs as a whole. Unfortunately, most Spanish-language novels available in Arabic were translated through English, i.e., translation of a translation. Sadly, the main criteria for translating into Arabic today has more to do with market than quality. So if a non-English-speaking author has sold record copies and has won a prestigious award and is famous in the English-speaking world, that makes it easier to translate him or her to Arabic. So what we eventually end up getting in Arabic is a mirror image of what the mainstream US and European publishers have deemed profitable and “successful” enough to merit translating into English. Even overrated authors who are not highly regarded in the Spanish-language literary scene but who are popular in the US through the translation of their work are more likely to be translated into Arabic. Isabel Allende, for instance, is a kind of literary celeb in the US, which is not the case in her native Chile; Allende’s works have not only been translated into Arabic but even adapted to Arab TV drama. So eventually the shreds we get to read in Arabic are determined by the dictates of foreign publishers. People like Shadi have a project to break those shackles, but unless there are courageous Arab publishers ready to support them, we will remain in this desperate situation where the literature accessible to us in Arabic is selected by global market considerations.

Why did you choose to  translate this specific novel?

Shadi: It’s the first novel I was able to fully read in Spanish. When I read it as a college student, before having gone to Latin America, what struck me most was how “normal” the story is. It tells the story of Carlos, a child from the rising Mexican middle-class in the Colonia Roma in Mexico City, and what happens when Carlos falls in love. The novel is written in simple language that I was able to read, even while I was learning. I could relate a lot to the story because in my encounter with Spanish, I too really feel like a child.

Years later I found myself in Mexico City and living in Colonia Roma, where the novel takes place. This, of course, made me reread the novel. Rereading Las batallas through its translation made me realize the depth of the story it tells and what lies underneath the apparent simplicity of its language; that the narrator registers a moment in Mexican history not only through the political and social context of the story, but also through the language itself and how things are narrated.

I had a lot of support for the translation project in both Mexico and in Palestine, and because of this generosity the book is now available through Qadita Books in Palestine and the Ahliyya in Amman, who will bringing the book to book fairs and bookstores in Arab countries.

Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center, Ramallah
Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center, Ramallah

Budour: I think Shadi’s translation of the novel is important, not just for Palestinians, but for all lovers of literature. J.E. Pacheco, as far as I know, has hardly been translated into Arabic — even though he is one of Latin America’s most important authors from the second half of the last century. Having this novel translated into Arabic will, hopefully, introduce a larger Arabic-speaking audience to Pacheco’s writings.

Was it meaningful to you to discuss the book with Palestinians in Ramallah? At the Khalil Sakakini Cultural Center? Why?

Shadi: Certainly it was. I was also able to discuss the book in my city, Haifa. Even though the participants in both events had not had the chance to read the novel first, we were able to discuss issues related to translation and literature, and of course the politics and history of both Mexico and Palestine – simply by reading aloud from the novel. Arabs in general today are introspective about who we are and who we used to be. So, despite the horrors that are going on politically, there are also a lot of interesting discussions happening, and I’m grateful to have had the chance to engage in them, and especially to do so in Arabic.

Budour: There is definitely significant interest among Palestinians in poetry that comes from Latin America, although novels reflecting magical realism are even more popular, and in this sense las batallas en el desierto is completely different. Obviously, we would have loved to have had the honor of hosting Pacheco, the author, in Palestine (and he would probably have been happy to know that his novel was translated into Arabic, in such solid way), but having Shadi speak about his experience as a translator also added value. We didn’t just discuss the novel; we talked about a wide range of issues, including the crisis of translations in the Arab world, the lack of direct translations from Spanish to Arabic, and the limitations that Shadi faced as a translator, particularly the difficulty of finding a publisher.

Apart from going deep into the novel its social and political context, we discussed Latin American literature in general challenging certain common portrayals of Latin American societies, and also the scarcity of Arabic literature translated into Spanish (again apart from award-winning authors).

When you mentioned to me that you’d be selling the book at the Palestinian International Book Fair, you said that you were “only” the translator. Do you feel that the contributions of translators are understood and valued by the general public? By the publishing industry?

Shadi: From my personal experience with Las batallas, I do feel that my work has been valued in both Mexico and Palestine, not only as a translator, but also because of the work I did to get the project going (e.g., securing funding, insisting on publishing the book in Palestine, working directly from Spanish to Arabic). It was also great to have Saleh Almani, veteran Spanish to Arabic translator from Syria (and the grandson of the village of Tarshiha in the Galilee), present at the book fair His name is well known among Arabic readers for his accomplishments translating authors like García Márquez.

As for publishing, honestly I’m a newcomer and I’m still trying to get a sense of what the industry is really like. My experience with the publishers Qadita and Ahliyya is very positive.

But what I do think is missing in the Arabic publishing industry, and the Arabic-reading public in general, is an understanding of and value for the artists who design and illustrate books. I feel most Arabic books are published with very little care for the appearance of the book, and as much as we would like not to judge a book by its cover, sometimes you can’t really help it.

For Las batallas in Arabic we had the contribution of Mexican artist Adriana Ronquillo, who made linocut printmaking especially for the Arabic edition, illustrating the cover and each chapter of the novel. The printmaking she did for the cover, illustrating Mexico City, is very inviting in my opinion.

What do you hope to accomplish by working as a translator of Mexican literature into Arabic? What projects are you working on now?

Shadi: I presented and discussed the book here in Palestine with old and new friends, so there is really nothing more I can ask for at the moment. Regardless of whether people like the book or not, I hope it will be an invitation to Arab readers to read more and dig deeper into Latin American and Spanish-language literature. For me, good books are those that call you to read other books. They send you to places you never thought of or imagined before.

Buy this book!
Buy this book!

Update: Shadi Rohana is contributing to an Arabic-Spanish translation of Instructions Within by Ashraf Fayad. Ashraf is currently imprisoned in Saudi Arabia serving an eight-year sentence for blasphemy. To show solidarity for Ashraf Fayad, you can purchase Palabras para Ashraf and write letters on his behalf or sign a petition in Spanish.

 

In Solidarity with Ashraf Fayadh

January 14, 2016 by Nora Lester Murad

Read about Ashraf Fayadh, Palestinian poet sentenced to death in Saudi Arabia here:

Newly Translated: Poems to Read for Ashraf Fayadh on January 14

In solidarity with Ashraf and all cultural workers and activists facing threats to their freedom to speak, I am joining the global reading of Ashraf’s poetry with “The Melancholy of Dough” translated by Tariq al-Haydar.

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Update! The death sentence has been removed. Read the story in The Guardian!

‘Chief Complaint’: Vignettes from Village Palestine

October 21, 2015 by Nora Lester Murad

The article first appeared on Arabic Literature in English.

Educational Bookshop in Jerusalem welcomed the small crowd that came to the launch of Chief Complaint on October 8, 2015 and acknowledged that the event was almost canceled.

The current escalation of violence in Jerusalem and around Palestine makes it hard to know what to do. We respect those who have lost their lives or are injured, and we want to dissuade others from going out into unsafe circumstances, but we also feel there is a kind of resistance we express when we press forward with regular life. In this case, we decided to press forward and were pleased to have 20 or so others who also pressed forward to join us for the event.

What follows is an edited version of my introductory remarks:

“I’m not sure why Dr. Hatim Kanaaneh honored me with the invitation to introduce him and his recent book, Chief Complaint. I can say that I fell in love with the idea of the book from the table of contents: ‘Chapter One, High Fever’; ‘Chapter Two, Chills’; ‘Chapter Three’ (my personal favorite), ‘Hair Loss’; and so on.

Chief_Complaint_nonfinal__51468.1420580262.450.800“As far as the text, you will find a combination of fact and fiction that builds off the idea of a chief complaint — what a patient states as the reason for a visit to the doctor seems, in this book, never to be the real reason. Dr. Hatim, who spent his career as a physician in his home village of Arrabeh in the Galilee, consolidated the voices, appearances, dreams, and flaws of patients he treated over decades, added in political and cultural detail, imagined some amusing twists, and wrote it all down in what are, as he admits, more like vignettes than plotted stories.

“What I enjoyed was that, like in real life, I learned as much from how these vignettes were told as I did from their content. My own adopted village is Kufr Manda, also in the Galilee, quite close in both distance and spirit to Dr. Hatim’s village of Arrabeh.

“In Kufr Manda you’ll find my 78-year old father-in-law, who is so spry that we once couldn’t find him in his greenhouse. We discovered, instead, that he was scaling the metal bars that hold up the plastic roofing. He has a long room that is the family’s greeting area, so that during the day there are always people coming in and out to visit or get or share information or perhaps to feast on one of my mother-in-law’s meals. Not long ago, I was reading on the couch next to him when my sister-in-law’s husband came in and told the Haj that his grandmother had won her court case and would finally get her share of inherited land, denied her by her brothers. As his grandmother was no longer alive, he needed to figure out how the property would be divided among the living heirs.

“My father-in-law jumped up onto a chair and reached to the top of a bookshelf on which he kept daily things, like his comb and razor, and pulled down what looked like a small plastic wastebasket with rolls of paper sticking out. The old man and my brother-in-law rolled out the old blueprints and began discussing which plot had belonged to so-and-so, but was later divided among so-and-so and so-and so. It was very detailed.

“Later that night, I asked my husband why his father seemed to be in possession of the official blueprints showing land ownership in the village. It was a strange idea for me, a US citizen who generally assumes that official things should be in government institutions under the care of paid officials.

“‘Because people trust him,’ my husband explained, and the conversation was over.

“I tell this story as an example of the kinds of stories that Dr. Hatim relays in Chief Complaint. They are everyday stories of Palestinians who live in villages in the Galilee. They are the kinds of stories that are unremarkable to the people who live them but very rich to those of us who don’t.

“Dr. Hatim tells the stories in Chief Complaint with both an insider and outsider perspective. He not only brings you into a place where you could not otherwise go, but he also explains what you’re seeing and hearing. The explanations may be long or short, and even if you read them twice, you might not grasp all of it. But the prose is strong and beautiful even if you don’t understand all his references.

“When I told my father-in-law in Kufr Manda that I was reading a book by a doctor from Arrabeh, he said, ‘Humpf.’ I thought he hadn’t understood my poor Arabic so I told him again and asked if by chance he knew Dr. Hatim from Arrabeh and he replied with a straight face: ‘Twenty-five doctors graduated from Arrabeh this year alone. The percentage of doctors in Arrabeh is higher than anywhere else in the world.’

“‘Really?’ I asked.

“‘What do you think I’m doing? Eating seeds?’ which is his way of saying that although he only studied until fourth grade, he is no idiot and Dr. Hatim, book or not, is just another guy. I’ve often thought that someone should write down my father-in-law’s stories so they aren’t lost, and Dr. Hatim — despite not knowing my father-in-law — has done just that. By capturing the humanity and the humor, the wisdom and the parochialism, he has saved a vision of this generation of Palestinian village elders.

“If I have a criticism of the book, it’s that, when you finish reading this book about a village doctor and the characters he comes to know and love, you can be sure that you’ve only seen a part of what there is to know. This book begs for another to be written – not by a doctor but by a doctora. Dr. Hatim’s stories are rich and true and important, but so are those told among women. I look forward to reading that book, whoever may write it.

More:

A video interview with Dr. Hatim about his book, Chief Complaint.

The American Colony Bookshop hosted a conversation with Raja Shehadeh, Penny Johnson and Rema Hammami, editors of New Palestinian Writing on Exile and Home on May 22, 2013. Here are the best 27 minutes of the event.

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