PT Data wrangler

Tag: Saudi Arabia

  • Instructions Within — Andrew McMillan reads Ashraf Fayadh’s poetry

    Poet Andrew McMillan reads and reflects upon the writing of Ashraf Fayadh, a Palestinian-born poet, artist and curator living in Saudi Arabia. A key figure in taking Saudi contemporary art to a global audience, Fayadh was charged with apostasy and sentenced to death in 2015. The sentence was later overturned but the court ordered a harsh new sentence of eight years and 800 lashes. Despite ongoing calls for his release, Fayadh remains in prison.

    To maintain awareness of his case, English PEN was invited to publish a UK edition of Fayadh’s collection Instructions Within, translated by Mona Kareem. Ten pages of the collection, first published by the Beirut-based Dar al-Farabi in 2008 and later banned from distribution in Saudi Arabia, were among the evidence used to convict him. Proceeds from this edition will go towards English PEN’s ongoing campaigns in support of Fayadh’s release and on behalf of other writers at risk around the world.

    Before he was the symbol of a struggle, or a cause to fight for, Fayadh was a writer, and so it’s his words which deserve attention. There’s a down-to-earth plainness about some of his work, even a wry humour which I think it’s important to keep hold of despite the dire situation he finds himself in:

    The time has come for you to pick up the pace — not sexually —
    and for you to change your smelly socks.
    …
    A scientific fact: bacteria…. grow rapidly.

    So yes, as you’d expect, there is a weight (of history, geography, politics) to these poems, and yet it feels important to celebrate the joy and wit in this work as well. In ‘An Aphorism’, Fayadh writes:

    To be in love is not to be a bird in the hand of the one you love,
    better for them than ten in the bush.
    A bird in the bush is better than ten in the hand,
    from the bird’s point of view.

    I’d suggest using that one as a greeting in the next Valentines Card you send, just to mix things up a bit!

    In a poem called ‘Your Luck Today’, Fayadh goes further:

    Mercury crashes into the moon due to an odd dispute!
    an old friend calls you out of nowhere to inquire
    whether it was Haifa Wahbe herself in that porn video.
    And an old love floats on the surface
    (though only dead bodies usually float)!

    A poem that starts off like an over-enthusiastic friend telling you an anecdote has that chilling moment at the end, like a punchline to a joke that leaves you thinking rather than laughing afterwards.

    As someone whose head is bereft of hair, I was particularly drawn to the three lines of ‘Equality’:

    It is said people are like the teeth of a comb
    but they are not… anyway, I’ll shave my head
    so I won’t be forced into the comparison

    A verse like that isn’t just throwaway though, there’s a note at the bottom of the page which gives the full quote the poem is based on, and attributes it to the Prophet Mohammed – there is a brave answering back going on in a poem like this as well.

    This is a vital book that needs to be read by all those interested in literature; if poetry has any job at all it is to be a witness, and to make us pay attention to things by describing them in such a way that makes us consider them afresh. Fayadh understands this mission, nevermore so than in a poem like ‘The Last of the Line of Refugee Descendants’, and this opening stanza:

    You give the world indigestion, and other problems, too.
    Don’t force the ground to vomit,
    and stay close to it, very close.
    A fracture that can’t be set,
    A fraction that can’t be resolved
    or added to the number,
    You cause some confusion in global statistics.

    Order you print-on-demand copy of Instructions Within (translated by Mona Kareem, Jonathan Wright and Mona Zaki) here. 

    For further information about Ashraf Fayadh’s case and how you can get involved with English PEN’s ongoing campaigns for his release, visit the website here. You can also find out more about our Writers at Risk work and current campaigns.

    The featured image, which is also the cover image of Instructions Within, is by   Hala Hassan.

  • It’s all in a name

    Co-written with Andrea C. Hoffmann, translated from German by Shaun Whiteside.

    The weather is bad as we stand outside Sherbrooke town hall. The rain is pouring down – as it does so often in my new home, Canada, which is in every respect the opposite of my old one.

    All my friends have come. It has been almost four years since my husband Raif Badawi was arrested in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Since then he has been in jail. One year ago, he was publicly whipped in front of a big mosque in the city.

    ‘Freedom for Raif,’ my friend Jane shouts into her megaphone. The other people taking part in the demonstration repeat her call. They are a few dozen loyal companions who gather with me here, week after week. We hold up orange posters with huge black letters to make Raif’s name. We express our demand: ‘Libérez Raif – free Raif!’

    Later, when we sit together in a Lebanese restaurant near the town hall, warming ourselves up, Jeff comes over to me. He’s the guitarist with the Canadian band Your Favourite Enemies. Today he’s joined us to support us in our struggle.

    He solemnly hands me a bundle of letters. ‘This is mail from our fans, Mrs Haidar,’ he tells me. ‘They want to give you and Raif the courage to keep going.’

    ‘Merci – thanks,’ I say to him and, touched, take the bundle from him. ‘Your solidarity is very important for us.’

    By now, luckily, I can speak enough French to express myself in the language. That hasn’t been the case for long: when we arrived in Quebec in autumn 2013 I had to sit behind a school desk like a little girl and learn how to communicate. My children Najwa, Dodi and Miriam could speak at least a little French after our previous stay in the Lebanon. I spoke only Arabic.

    It wasn’t the only change that I found difficult. Since I was forced to flee from Saudi Arabia, pretty much everything in my life has changed. For the first time I had to learn how to take responsibility for myself and my family as a woman on her own. North American culture was completely alien to me. The food smelled and tasted different, the cold climate put a terrible strain on me and I didn’t know anyone in this country, whose social rules were so unfamiliar to me.

    I don’t mean that the people I met in Canada were in any way unpleasant or unfriendly. On the contrary: they welcomed me with open arms, and from the very first I liked their casual, open manners. But it was alien to me none the less.

    I have experienced boundless support in the country that granted us asylum. Asylum from the state where I was brought up and formed, where many of the people I love still live. Asylum from the country that threatens my husband with death. And I can’t say how grateful I am for that: side by side with people from all over the world, I can devote myself effectively here to the liberation of my husband.

    Najwa, Dodi and Miriam acclimatised much more quickly than I did, as children do. As for me, shortly after we arrived abroad I threatened to slip into depression in the face of the cruelty and hopelessness of Raif’s situation.

    But while I was in danger of giving up, I began to understand what a waste that would be. A waste of freedom, strength and opportunities to develop. A waste of everything that Raif has stood for. A waste of the love that I am allowed to experience with him.

    My name, Ensaf, has a wide range of meanings in Arabic, from ‘justice’ to ‘patience’. In my current struggle on Raif’s behalf I often have the feeling that I urgently need all of these different facets. It’s all in a name, as they say.

    Once – compared to now – I was spoilt. I had nothing to worry about, but I had no responsibilities either. Today a great weight rests on my shoulders. But my task has made me grow as a person. And I have noticed how strong I can be when I want to achieve something. I can express my thoughts and speak in public. Back when I lived with my parents and was sheltered from everything and everyone in the world I would never have thought any of that possible.

    To that extent I have personally profited from my commitment to freeing Raif: he has made me strong. Stronger than I could ever have dreamed as a traditionally brought- up Saudi woman. That’s a good experience.

    I thank Jeff for the letters and try on the silk scarf that he hands me as a gift. In my former life I might have worn it as a headscarf; today I prefer to wear it around my neck. ‘I’m very grateful to you for your support of Raif and freedom ofexpression,’ I assure him.

    ‘But it’s our duty, Mrs Haidar,’ he says with a smile, ‘And please say hi to Raif from us next time you talk to him.’

    I don’t know how our fight will go. Spellbound, I watch the news from home, the effect of which is like an emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes it gives me hope, then I despair again. Will I, and our many supporters all over the world, manage to save my beloved husband? Or will my children and I have to watch the police in Jeddah beating him to death one day?

    Only one thing is certain: my children and I will fight for him to our last breath.

    Ensaf Haidar portrairEnsaf Haidar is married to Raif Badawi and is president of the Raif Badawi Foundation. She lives in Quebec, Canada with her children. www.raifbadawi.org

    Jo Glanville, Director of English PEN, said:

    Ensaf Haidar has been a tireless advocate for her husband, becoming one of the most visible and widely recognised defenders of human rights in the world. The publication of her book will help Raif Badawi’s story reach a new audience and bring greater pressure on democracies to call for his release and perhaps even question their own relationship with the Saudi regime. Raif is serving a prison sentence for doing no more than expressing his opinion, the publication of Ensaf’s book is great proof that censorship never works.

    Shaun Whiteside has translated over 50 books from German, French, Italian and Dutch, including novels by Amélie Nothomb, Luther Blissett, Wu Ming and Marcel Möring. His translations of Freud, Musil, Schnitzler and Nietzsche are published by Penguin Classics, and his translation of Magdalena the Sinner by Lilian Faschinger won the 1996 Schlegel-Tieck Translation Prize. His most recent translation from German is The Giraffe’s Neck by Judith Schalansky, and he is currently working on the translation of two novels by Georges Simenon.

    A former chair of the Translators Association, he sits on the editorial board of New Books in German and the Advisory Panel of the British Centre for Literary Translation, where he regularly teaches at the summer school.

    English PEN has been holding regular vigils outside the Saudi Embassy in London in support of Raif Badawi and Waleed Abulkhair since January 2015 when Badawi was first flogged for his peaceful activism. More than a year later, it is continuing to call for the immediate and unconditional release of Badawi and Abulkhair.

    Tomorrow, English PEN and Little, Brown are joining forces to hold a special vigil to mark the release of Haidar’s memoir and to amplify the call for Badawi’s immediate release. Jimmy Wales, a long-standing supporter of Badawi, will also be in attendance.

    Activists are asked to meet at the Curzon Street entrance to the Embassy (note: the postal address of the Embassy is 30-32 Charles Street, Mayfair, London) from 1pm, 23 March.

    #FreeRaif #FreeWaleed @englishpen @LittleBrownUK

    https://www.englishpen.org/campaigns/english-pen-and-little-brown-to-hold-special-vigil-for-imprisoned-blogger-raif-badawi/

    Raif Badawi: The Voice of Freedom is out now (Little, Brown, £14.99).

    Read extracts from Raif Badawi’s blog at the Guardian: ‘A look at the writings of Saudi blogger Raif Badawi’

  • It's all in a name

    Co-written with Andrea C. Hoffmann, translated from German by Shaun Whiteside.

    The weather is bad as we stand outside Sherbrooke town hall. The rain is pouring down – as it does so often in my new home, Canada, which is in every respect the opposite of my old one.

    All my friends have come. It has been almost four years since my husband Raif Badawi was arrested in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Since then he has been in jail. One year ago, he was publicly whipped in front of a big mosque in the city.

    ‘Freedom for Raif,’ my friend Jane shouts into her megaphone. The other people taking part in the demonstration repeat her call. They are a few dozen loyal companions who gather with me here, week after week. We hold up orange posters with huge black letters to make Raif’s name. We express our demand: ‘Libérez Raif – free Raif!’

    Later, when we sit together in a Lebanese restaurant near the town hall, warming ourselves up, Jeff comes over to me. He’s the guitarist with the Canadian band Your Favourite Enemies. Today he’s joined us to support us in our struggle.

    He solemnly hands me a bundle of letters. ‘This is mail from our fans, Mrs Haidar,’ he tells me. ‘They want to give you and Raif the courage to keep going.’

    ‘Merci – thanks,’ I say to him and, touched, take the bundle from him. ‘Your solidarity is very important for us.’

    By now, luckily, I can speak enough French to express myself in the language. That hasn’t been the case for long: when we arrived in Quebec in autumn 2013 I had to sit behind a school desk like a little girl and learn how to communicate. My children Najwa, Dodi and Miriam could speak at least a little French after our previous stay in the Lebanon. I spoke only Arabic.

    It wasn’t the only change that I found difficult. Since I was forced to flee from Saudi Arabia, pretty much everything in my life has changed. For the first time I had to learn how to take responsibility for myself and my family as a woman on her own. North American culture was completely alien to me. The food smelled and tasted different, the cold climate put a terrible strain on me and I didn’t know anyone in this country, whose social rules were so unfamiliar to me.

    I don’t mean that the people I met in Canada were in any way unpleasant or unfriendly. On the contrary: they welcomed me with open arms, and from the very first I liked their casual, open manners. But it was alien to me none the less.

    I have experienced boundless support in the country that granted us asylum. Asylum from the state where I was brought up and formed, where many of the people I love still live. Asylum from the country that threatens my husband with death. And I can’t say how grateful I am for that: side by side with people from all over the world, I can devote myself effectively here to the liberation of my husband.

    Najwa, Dodi and Miriam acclimatised much more quickly than I did, as children do. As for me, shortly after we arrived abroad I threatened to slip into depression in the face of the cruelty and hopelessness of Raif’s situation.

    But while I was in danger of giving up, I began to understand what a waste that would be. A waste of freedom, strength and opportunities to develop. A waste of everything that Raif has stood for. A waste of the love that I am allowed to experience with him.

    My name, Ensaf, has a wide range of meanings in Arabic, from ‘justice’ to ‘patience’. In my current struggle on Raif’s behalf I often have the feeling that I urgently need all of these different facets. It’s all in a name, as they say.

    Once – compared to now – I was spoilt. I had nothing to worry about, but I had no responsibilities either. Today a great weight rests on my shoulders. But my task has made me grow as a person. And I have noticed how strong I can be when I want to achieve something. I can express my thoughts and speak in public. Back when I lived with my parents and was sheltered from everything and everyone in the world I would never have thought any of that possible.

    To that extent I have personally profited from my commitment to freeing Raif: he has made me strong. Stronger than I could ever have dreamed as a traditionally brought- up Saudi woman. That’s a good experience.

    I thank Jeff for the letters and try on the silk scarf that he hands me as a gift. In my former life I might have worn it as a headscarf; today I prefer to wear it around my neck. ‘I’m very grateful to you for your support of Raif and freedom ofexpression,’ I assure him.

    ‘But it’s our duty, Mrs Haidar,’ he says with a smile, ‘And please say hi to Raif from us next time you talk to him.’

    I don’t know how our fight will go. Spellbound, I watch the news from home, the effect of which is like an emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes it gives me hope, then I despair again. Will I, and our many supporters all over the world, manage to save my beloved husband? Or will my children and I have to watch the police in Jeddah beating him to death one day?

    Only one thing is certain: my children and I will fight for him to our last breath.

    Ensaf Haidar portrairEnsaf Haidar is married to Raif Badawi and is president of the Raif Badawi Foundation. She lives in Quebec, Canada with her children. www.raifbadawi.org

    Jo Glanville, Director of English PEN, said:

    Ensaf Haidar has been a tireless advocate for her husband, becoming one of the most visible and widely recognised defenders of human rights in the world. The publication of her book will help Raif Badawi’s story reach a new audience and bring greater pressure on democracies to call for his release and perhaps even question their own relationship with the Saudi regime. Raif is serving a prison sentence for doing no more than expressing his opinion, the publication of Ensaf’s book is great proof that censorship never works.

    Shaun Whiteside has translated over 50 books from German, French, Italian and Dutch, including novels by Amélie Nothomb, Luther Blissett, Wu Ming and Marcel Möring. His translations of Freud, Musil, Schnitzler and Nietzsche are published by Penguin Classics, and his translation of Magdalena the Sinner by Lilian Faschinger won the 1996 Schlegel-Tieck Translation Prize. His most recent translation from German is The Giraffe’s Neck by Judith Schalansky, and he is currently working on the translation of two novels by Georges Simenon.

    A former chair of the Translators Association, he sits on the editorial board of New Books in German and the Advisory Panel of the British Centre for Literary Translation, where he regularly teaches at the summer school.

    English PEN has been holding regular vigils outside the Saudi Embassy in London in support of Raif Badawi and Waleed Abulkhair since January 2015 when Badawi was first flogged for his peaceful activism. More than a year later, it is continuing to call for the immediate and unconditional release of Badawi and Abulkhair.

    Tomorrow, English PEN and Little, Brown are joining forces to hold a special vigil to mark the release of Haidar’s memoir and to amplify the call for Badawi’s immediate release. Jimmy Wales, a long-standing supporter of Badawi, will also be in attendance.

    Activists are asked to meet at the Curzon Street entrance to the Embassy (note: the postal address of the Embassy is 30-32 Charles Street, Mayfair, London) from 1pm, 23 March.

    #FreeRaif #FreeWaleed @englishpen @LittleBrownUK

    https://www.englishpen.org/campaigns/english-pen-and-little-brown-to-hold-special-vigil-for-imprisoned-blogger-raif-badawi/

    Raif Badawi: The Voice of Freedom is out now (Little, Brown, £14.99).

    Read extracts from Raif Badawi’s blog at the Guardian: ‘A look at the writings of Saudi blogger Raif Badawi’

  • The Day of the Nation

    Raif Badawi, an activist and blogger, was arrested in 2012 and convicted for ‘insulting Islam through electronic channels’. He was sentenced to a fine of one million riyals (£175,000), ten years in prison and 1,000 lashes.

    This month, Greystone Books publishes 1000 Lashes: Because I Say What I Think, a collection of Raif Badawi’s original blog posts on subjects ranging from the separation of church and state to the dangers of religious extremism. Here is an extract from the book, written to mark Saudi Arabia’s national day (23 September).

    Translated from Arabic by Ahmed Danny Ramadan.

    ‘The wider the views, the narrower the words.’ A sentence that was said by al-Niffari, one of the highly regarded Sufi clerics, who said it in Baghdad centuries ago, back when the Arabian era was flourishing. In my memory, which hasn’t aged that much yet, I hold this sentence clearly: it comes to mind as we see the celebrations of our homeland, Saudi Arabia, and its national day.

    The concept of a nation is wide: it includes everyone under its love. The wider it gets, the more hatred fills the hearts of some of our fellow citizens, adding layers of sectarianism, tribalism, and narrow ways of thinking. One of the most honourable bases for a united nation is that it shouldn’t be built upon the specifics of one person, or one line of thought, or one organization, or one group, excluding everyone else.

    A homeland is for everyone, without marginalization: a nation for its entire people, with all of their beliefs and intellectual characteristics. Only through the establishment of this theory of one nation can everyone have the right to celebrate belonging to this land, to this geographical location, and to this soil.

    That’s why we Saudis have the right to celebrate a national day, because we’re not only celebrating our nation but also celebrating ourselves, for ourselves.

    When we celebrate a nation, we celebrate our rights as citizens of this nation. When we celebrate the day of this nation, we jump across those limited lines of narrow thinking. The bases of citizenship are clear: it’s a victory for the variety of ideologies and a celebration of diversity, which leads us to the triumph of a civil society.

    No one can deny us our right to celebrate this day, which is dear to all of us: we simply cannot allow a return to this Stone Age dogma, and we will fight it with all of our power. Such a celebration of the day of one nation is also a blow to those with their heads stuck in the Stone Age.

    This day shows the importance and the necessity of a diverse civil structure in our nation that should embrace everyone, including those who stand as enemies to belonging to the soil and the geographical location. It should include them, even when they prefer their twisted ideology, an ideology that ruins the reputation of our nation, locally, regionally, and internationally.

    ‘Nation’ is a great word, and only those who truly love their nation know its true meaning and value. They see the nation as a holy, sacred place, more important than anything else. The nation will stay, as long as they protect it with their souls, money, and through the next generation.

    Happy National Day, my dear homeland, and you too, people of my nation.

    English PEN organises monthly vigils for Raif Badawi outside the Saudi Arabian embassy in London. The next vigil will take place on Friday 25 September at 9am. Find out more.

    1000 Lashes: Because I Say What I Think is available in the UK from Foyles. Proceeds from the book will be donated to Raif Badawi’s family to support their efforts to campaign for his release.