I realized about halfway into my reading that each chapter’s title seemed a little similar to the last. They all began with, “The year of…” I understood immediately that this must be some important sign that I am just not catching onto or that the author really liked placing a timeline for each chapter. To my surprise the author didn’t do this only for a timeline but wrote his work trying to imitate an Islamic memoir. Since Maalouf is portraying the work to seem like it is coming from Leo Africanus’ view he labels each chapter with years because it is part of the Islamic culture. In pre-Islamic times, the years were marked with a special event that had taken place over the whole year. The Year of the Elephant, the year in which Muhammad was born, was named after an unsuccessful raid by Abraha. The following years were marked by the life events of Muhammad. The first ten are as follows; the year of permission, the year of the order of fighting, the year of the trial, the year of congratulation on marriage, the year of the earthquake, the year of enquiring, the year of gaining victory, the year of equality, the year of exemption and the year of farewell.
Maalouf’s titles of all his chapters make sense seeing that he was trying to create a narrative coming from a devout Muslim. It also makes sense considering his titles give both Islamic and Gregorian years. By doing this, Maalouf is establishing a preface to his work, the difference between Islam and Christianity, even in the smallest sense. It allows the reader to understand the difference between the Hijri calendar and the Gregorian calendar; even with minor details such as AH, which stands for ‘the year of’. It also allows the reader to understand that the Islamic calendar runs differently than the Gregorian calendar (which is based on the seasons), such as their years fall differently based on the lunar cycle.
Jeanne Magnetti Orientalism in “Leo Africanus” Part I The author, Amin Maalouf, is intimately familiar with both the Middle Eastern culture and the European culture. So, why would such Orientalist imagery be present in his novel, “Leo Africanus”? For instance, Hasan’s mother, Salma fulfills all of her medical needs through the craft of Gaudy Sarah. Gaudy Sarah trades in “amulets, bracelets, perfumes… ambergris, jasmine and water lilies” and the telling of fortunes (6). Such mysticism in medicine is characteristic of Western stereotypes about the East, who assume that the East lacks modern medicine. Moreover, when Salma tells her husband that Gaudy Sarah advised that Muhammad should not come near either of his wives during pregnancy, his reaction is so violent that “Salma thought that he would have beaten her is she had not been pregnant” (8). This incident clearly displays a lack of respect for women and the expectation that they should be subordinate to men. Additionally, there is the story of the Sultan’s mistress. The sultan calls his nobles together to watch her bathe, and then “invited all those present to drink a small bowl of water which Soraya had left behind” (16). This is the sort of eroticism that the West associates East and its women. Furthermore, there is the description of the bandit Zarwali’s harem. It is said that he regularly takes and divorces new wives in order to maintain the legal amount of four, and that “a denunciation, a slander, and insinuation” is enough for one of them to be strangled (137). This idea that a Harem is a wealthy man’s personal brothel that is filled with jealousy and intrigue is Orientalist. Moreover, Hasan describes the encounters of the village people in Africa with lions. In some areas “a child has only to run shouting behind a lion for the latter to run away…In another village…the lions wander between the houses to eat the bones which are left out for them…I have also heard that when a woman finds herself alone with a lion in an isolated place she has only to uncover a certain part of her body in front of him for the animal to roar loudly, lower his eyes, and slink away” (129). That the people in the Middle East live with wild beasts, and even have sexual encounters with them, is certainly an Orientalist idea. This plethora of Orientalist imagery leads one to wonder why Amin Maalouf would portray his nation is such a way. Perhaps, rather than simply trying to portray the East as a land full of people ‘just like us,’ Maalouf is playing upon the stereotypes of the West while at the same time displaying the faults of both Christians and Muslims as people, not as representations of a faith. This approach problematizes the separation of people by identity groups and humanizes both the East and the West.
I think you bring up a really good point with the idea of Orientalism in Leo Africanus. It is definitely true that there are scenes which depict the stereotypical view of the East as this mystical land where people consult clairvoyant's, consult the stars, and practice sorcery upon one another. I think that Amin Maalouf did this on purpose because he knew both sides of the Orientalist coin. He wanted to give the popular audience what they wanted, but at the same time show that these are stereotypes; he wanted to show them in a neutral light so that people could understand that they are not a negative aspect of the Eastern culture. He kept it very real, not exemplifying the stereotypes to a ridiculous point where it became comical, and keeping them subtle enough where it just made the reader believe that it could be a land in Northern Africa that is filled with Muslims. He peppered in exaggerations of their culture in order to exemplify the mysticism that is related to them.
As far as playing on stereotypes, I think Maalouf does do that in a productive manner. We talked about Sarah, the mysterious Jewish woman, and while Maalouf presents her as this more mystic woman, I think he also portrays through her the struggle of the Jewish people during this time. In my response, I mentioned how Sarah seems to be a stock character, as I've read another very similar to her, Esther from Pamuk's My Name is Red. I see more merit now because Maalouf uses this stereotype to shed light on a serious situation. Yes, "Gaudy" Sarah deals in predictions, potions, and amulets, but she is also always telling Salma about her family members and friends who have been murdered. Speaking about these tragedies in an almost nonchalant way, Sarah's character speaks to the rampant persecution of Jews across the continent: one of Sarah's nieces has been burnt alive with her husband under suspicion of remaining a Jew in secret (94). By playing with a stereotype of a Jewish diaspora character, Maalouf juxtaposes the mystic persona with the tragic reality.
Amin Maalouf’s Leo Africanus Week 1 – March 5, 2013 Ellen Walpole
The Idea of Identity As we talked about in class today, the preface of the novel is used as a tool for foreshadowing the identity of the main character, Hasan. However, I think the larger theme that can also be seen in the preface is the fact that the author, Amin Maalouf, also fails to have a one specific identity; there is no one category that he can be put under. As was seen in the videos, Maalouf was born in Lebanon but can speak French and Arabic fluently and is also considered a European. Instead of finding this strange, I think it is amazing to have so many different cultural backgrounds.
Maalouf said he feels European when there are problems in Europe, and Lebanese when there are issues in Lebanon, and when I heard that it took me awhile to actually process that he can feel like he belongs to both places. I am assuming he surpasses ideas of Orientalism because he is able to completely relate to so many different cultures. The discourse that we often find ourselves would be much easier for him to avoid.
While Leo Africanus did actually exist, I believe that Maalouf’s portrayal of him was written from some personal experiences. The real man Africanus was also a writer and traveled extensively, much like the fictional writer Maalouf. To “come from no country, from no city, no tribe” (Maalouf 1) establishes a lot of gray area about where Hasan should feel allegiance to.
The idea of global citizenship or a “world citizen,” also discussed in class, is interesting in that while it would be ideal to feel like you belonged to so many places, where would you establish your “home?” Which in turn raises the question on what the idea of “home” really is; is a country your home? Or the town you grew up in? I don’t believe that “home” can be an address and the way Maalouf wrote that Hasan was “…the son of the road, [his] country is the caravan, [his] life the most unexpected of voyages” (Maalouf 1), and that “[he] belong[s] only to God and to the earth, and it is to them that [he] will one day soon return” (Maalouf 1).
Clearly this leads the reader to believe that it doesn’t matter where you are from or where you call home, it is only your relationship with God that truly matters. I do find this somewhat ironic, though, because Maalouf’s religion is not clear; but, I suppose it is written from Hasan’s point of view.
you bring up an interesting contrast between the idea of "home" and where you are from. certainly it is possible to have a background in numerous places but do we decide for ourselves which is home or even if we have one? this seems to be echoed in the preface, as well as in the mantra of al of history's favorite vagabonds. often learned and culturally diverse, they all fall back on one place as their "home" and if not, it's the road, the act of being in transition.
What if I had to leave? What if one day as I was living in my community that I was born into I was told that I had to leave? Taking this class we have read a lot of books about loosing identity or having to leave ones home. What is my identity and would it ever be at fault? When I think about myself when it comes to identity I have a lot of trouble coming up with anything. I do not follow any religion, and I do not think of myself as patriotic, so this makes me confused to as whom I am.
In my life I would always say that I hated the town that I lived in, I would say how much I wanted to move away and live elsewhere. What I have learned by going away to school and taking this class, is that where your born and grow up is very important to who you are. It is what you know and what you associate your life with. When I would introduce myself I would say, “I am Brian and I am from Long Island”, immediately that created some kind of identity to the person that I was introducing myself to. This past winter Long Island was hit hard by Hurricane Sandy, towns were destroyed, homes where damaged, people lost their home. Places that I grew up around had been blown away. At this moment my whole mindset of “I hate this place” became something of sadness of the destruction of where my childhood took place. Long Island went from suburban living to ground zero, and this hurt inside to see something so close to me be almost destroyed.
When I read the preface of the book I felt some kind of nostalgia because like his life I have moved many times in my life. When I was in elementary school I was told that I had to leave. My parents told me that our family was moving to England. Even though my parents weren’t the Spanish Catholics, this occurrence in my life was very analogous to that of the people in the book Leo Africanus. My entire world was to be let go and then started up in a whole different country. I would have to acquire new customs and learn different cultures. For Leo and his family it would be more of a forced and abrupt transition, fortunately I was able to return to my home and lifestyle.
So again this makes me wonder, what defines me. Is it the places I have moved in my life or is it the place that I have lived a majority of my life. Or is completely independent of where you live, maybe the family in which you grow into. In both Shadows of a Pomegranate Tree and Leo Africanus both families live in Granada during the time of the inquisition but we can see very distinct difference in their family structure. By looking at these two different families no one would classify them as the same by saying that they are “Muslim families living in Granada during the inquisition” because that is totally over simplifying the people who lived there. I hope that when people look back at where I live in the future they don’t put every single Long Islander under the same category because we aren’t all classified by where we live, its more particular to each family or even person.
So who am I? I don’t know yet, due to the fact that I am only in college and haven’t really lived yet. This excites me, because I have all of my college life to discover what I want to do. I am glad that this class makes me think about how different people lived in different times through these books. It makes me realize that the one thing that we as humans have in common is that we have nothing in common.
This is a very interesting perspective, as I completely agree with you. I moved around and lived in numerous places as well (although not out of the country), and this is the third college I have attended. I guess you're supposed to have things figured out by now, but I definitely don't. Leo Africanus seemed to embrace the fact that he belonged to the road and had no one specfic homeland, and I think there is something amazing in that. However, your tie to Hurricane Sandy proves that we cannot really every truly escape the place we were born. When Hasan first got to Fez, he still pictured "home" in Granada and hoped to return. Eventually though, I think with enough experience, you start to have a better understanding of yourself, which will in turn result in finding the answer to "who you are."
I completely agree with the author of this entry, I don’t know what I would do if I was told I had to up and leave my entire life, including changing religions and being made to change my moral in life. Much like many people my family moved while I was in school, which made it so that I had to pick up and start at a new school my sophomore year in high school. Though this is nothing compared to the author/character in this book, it was still a big change for me. I had the attended the same school, had the same friends and lived in the same community for as long as I could remember. Even though I felt lost and like I was losing everything I had ever known, I did not feel like I was losing my identity or who I was because I think that goes so much deeper than just the place you live in, and the people you hang out with.
I think your identity has to do with who you are and what you believe in rather than where you live and go to school. I agree that most of the books we have read so far this semester the characters have been told that they have to up in leave, but just because they are leaving their homes and going to create a new home somewhere else I do not believe that they are losing this identity. I would say that they are losing their identity when they are being forced to change religion and believe in something that they do not (we have seen this in some of the books that we have read so far).
Just like yourself I am still finding my own identity, finally pulling away from my parents it is my decision now to decide what I believe what I do not believe and make my own identity because growing up so much of my identity was based on what my parents thought and felt about things because that is was I was taught when I was not old enough to make my own judgement but now that I am it is exciting to know that there is a world out there for me to explore and make my own judgments about thus in turn creating my own identity based solely on what I think, feel and believe to be true.
Developing personal identity takes time and it could be argued that you never truly discover who you are. I define myself as the sum of all of my past experiences and emotions.I am nothing more or less then that concept, but how do I tell someone, in an external matter, who I am? Do I tell them my life's story? Attempt to put into words my emotions which every poet has declared impossible? How do I tell myself who I am without having finished my life? My past experiences make up who I am today, and my future possibilities will eventually come to pass, changing who I am today into a slightly different version.. In the end, I believe, it is important to be firm in understanding that "I am" represents a morphosis of identity: that identity is not a static state.
I think that most people who go away to college and find themselves far from home can relate to this post. As I am also from Long Island, my home is a seven or eight hour drive away. In coming here to Geneseo, I had to learn to meld into an entirely different community. In fact, this daunting challenge was overcome much more easily than I expected. I suppose you could say I found, much as Leo Africanus did, that people are more or less the same no matter where you are. The superficial differences can be difficult to look past, but the concerns that people face (love, family, religion, politics) are constant whether you are on Long Island or in Geneseo, or in sixteenth-century Granada, Fez, Cairo or Rome. This was a major theme I saw running throughout the book "Leo Africanus". The fact that so many characters mirror each other in so many ways only underscores this fact. In Hibi we see echoes of Warda; Astagfirrulah is echoed as a fanatical pope in the Vatican; the political intrigues of Granada, of Cairo and of Rome all echo each other. The fact that Leo, and that we as college students, can move from one community to another seems to reinforce the idea that we have more in common than not.
I absolutely agree in your assessment of how where you have grown up has defined you. Just like you, I am guilty of saying the same exact things, I could not WAIT to get out of my hometown and finally move away to never come back. However, as I've grown older I've realized that where I grew up was not such a bad place after all, and it truly has lead me to become the person I am today. In terms of Hassan, he was not given this choice, and did not at all have the choice to move away, but instead was forced to. I feel that due to this decision that was ultimately out of his hands, it kind of defined who he later becomes. In his mind, growing up means moving around. As we already know from the four different sections of the novel and in the preface, he constantly moves around and this is how he defines himself. I admire this lifestyle, and feel that it makes him a better person, open to all cultures and societies. It is neat to compare our lives to his, in that we were given the opportunity to remain in our childhood communities (in your case you moved, but later returned), and this shapes who we are. Moving out of these communities was a decision we chose to make, which is the lifestyle Hassan defines himself by.
Leo Africanus: A New Perspective, Same Issue Dia Seskin
So far I have truly enjoyed Amin Maalouf's Leo Africanus, and found it to be an extremely well written novel, depicting the life of a sixteenth-century adventurer right at the center of various key political and cultural movements. The novel is written in the style of a memoir, that is essentially geared as a guide to his future son; which I found to be particularly interesting. The novel highlights a number of key themes throughout its first half, a few being the familial structure and the relationship of each family member to one another, the question of identity as many cultures are exiled from their homes, and the use of magic and god as means to obtain happiness.
I found the style in which this book was written to be extremely significant in attempting to unpack and fully comprehend it. The book is divided into sections, and within these sections are chapters recording the dates in which everything occurs. Furthermore, each section is named after the city that holds the most influence over the memoir at that time, clueing the reader in to the changes the narrator faces in terms of the world and cultural society he currently resides in. The major conflict throughout the first half of the novel in which we have seen come up a number of different times throughout the other novels we have been reading, is the conflict between Islam and Christianity. This narrative seems to portray different view than the others however, given that the narrator's family ultimately chooses to evacuate their original home in Granada to escape persecution as well as conversion. The father within this novel appears to be a bit more rational than the father in Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree, in that he is fully aware of what is going on around him and makes the wise decision to move his family in order to steer them clear of Christian brutality. In addition to this, the father's choice to agree to give up their homeland of Granada was an extremely non-resistant stance as opposed to the father in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree. He willingly agrees to allow the Christians to gain control over their kingdom, taking an ultimately passive stance on the matter. Although the way in which he chose to deal with the inquisition may be considered as a cowardly move, as opposed to the father in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree, to me it seemed way more human and realistic. Muhammad's choice to move his family is truly the choice to make if one wants to save their family, and to me felt like the right decision.
Finally, I wanted to discuss the issue of relationships in terms of Al-Hasan Ibn Muhammad al-Wazzan's family. I found myself constantly sympathizing with the narrator as he is depicted as a child, forced to watch his mother struggle to gain attention from her unfaithful husband. His father's mistress I felt played an extremely annoying role, consistantly getting in the way of their family,'s plans, repeatedly bringing shame on them all. At first I was a bit confused as to why she was included in the novel at all, but as we discussed in class the issues of polygamy and its role in the society at this time, her character's value became more clear.
Amin Maalouf’s Leo Africanus continually stresses the concept of common humanity underlying all cultures and social classes, and the absurdity of violating this humanity on the basis of conflicting identities. For example, the narrator’s mother Salma is the free Muslim wife of Muhammad. Originally, she is extremely resentful towards Muhammad’s mistress Warda, a Christian slave. When both women become pregnant at the same time, a silent competition begins over who will bare Muhammad his first son. One day after Muhammad parades them both through the streets, the women both collapse on the same bed and broke into laughter. After this incident, “a certain bond developed which softened the rivalry between them” (Maalouf 8). It is in subtle ways such as this that Maalouf seems to be suggesting that common human experiences, such as pregnancy, can bring us together despite differences in class or religion. This message is also conveyed by the way the novel conveys the seeming pointlessness of fighting those with whom one shares a partial identity. For example, under sultan Abu’l-Hasan people “were arrested because they had been denounced by some rival or even a jealous neighbor” (17). The fact that neighbors, who share a common location at the least, would have each other arrested reveals the danger of living in any sort of fear culture. When civil war breaks out over allegiance to the sultan, “sons killed fathers and brothers strangled brothers…neighbors suspected and betrayed each other” (19). By including both external and civil war and tension between cultures and tension between family members, Maalouf causes us to question where we draw the line between the “other” and our own kin. We are appalled by the thought of brothers betraying brothers, but at what point do we determine that someone is too “other” to deserve our loyalty and respect?
I loved the way you compared these analogies! I think one starts to forget the other when one is completely confident and sure of oneself. Both Salma and Warda after a while realize that there is not a competition between each other but between how they both handle the outside world together; for they are both looked down upon because of Muhammad. When one is happy with themselves, there is no need to feel a revenge.
The Status of Women in Leo Africanus When reading Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree by Tariq Ali, I was surprised to see the ways in which Muslim women were empowered during the medieval time period in which it was set. When envisioning the East through a Western lens, Islamic society is often viewed as oppressive and cruel towards their female population. Today through the media and other resources, the West is guilty of being more familiar with the Islamic fundamentalist presence in the Middle East rather than the modern and bustling society that also exists therein. However, Islamic fundamentalism was not thoroughly mentioned in Ali’s novel, where is becomes a major topic of discussion in Leo Africanus by Amin Maalouf, especially as it is voiced by the character Shaikh
Astaghfirullah. Throughout the first book of the novel, there is continuous mention of the status of women in Granada, where many are viewed as heretics in their superstitions, and temptations in their beauty. It seems that what Ali failed to mention in his novel was how the Inquisition’s threat to destroy Islamic society and the city of Granada was also coupled with an Islamic extremist movement that affected the status of women.
We first learn the concept of ‘free’ versus ‘enslaved’ women when Hasan’s mother describes the early stages of her marriage. As a married woman she was considered free, yet her husband becomes seduced by their servant Warda who was considered a slave. Her servant had “all the wiles of seduction at her disposal” (6), while Salma was unable to abandon her conservative demeanor. Warda could, “go out unveiled, sing, dance, pour wine, wink her eyes, and take off her clothes”, which led Salma to feel as though freedom were “a deceitful form of bondage, and slavery a subtle form of freedom” (6).
The superstitions that women commonly held during this time period were also viewed as a kind of herecy. In explaining her prediction for bearing a son to her husband Muhammad, Salma was immediately accused of being a “witch” and a “she-devil” and ran the risk of being beaten (8). Later the reader learns that the manufacture of amulets and charms made by mothers to protect their children was also a practice that defied religion, and women were seen as irrational and inferior by ascribing to these superstitions.
When Shaikh Astaghfirullah gives his sermon, he comments on his extremist view of women in Islamic society. He remarks on how women are often seen “unveiled” on the streets, “offering their faces and their hair to the lustful gaze of hundreds of men” (33), a view that closely corresponds with the Western view of Islamic fundamentalism or in some cases even Middle Eastern society as a whole. Shaikh sees a religious defiance in how “men cannot be distinguished from women, neither in their dress nor in their gait” (34) within Islamic society.
This novel, written similarly to Shades of the Pomegranate Tree allows the reader more insight into medieval Islam in Granada before the fall of the city. I am interested to see how the status of women changes in Hasan’s future travels.
I think the author of this blog post did a really great job of summarizing the role and view of women in this novel. Through the concept of free vs. enslaved, we can see how women were oppressed despite their status. The author of this blog post also mentions how women's beliefs were considered superstition, showing how their opinions weren't valued and were believed to be frivolous. I also like how the author of this post uses Shaikh Astaghfirullah as a symbol for Islamic fundamentalism. As a tradionalist, Astaghfirullah symbolizes all of the conservative beliefs of Islam.
This blog response brings up some thought-provoking questions and ideas regarding the status of women in Islamic nations, both nowadays and during the time of the fall of Granada. I agree that Westerners often believe in the ideas stressed by Islamic fundamentalists about the conservatism of women. Leo Africanus illustrates the different types of women found within Islamic societies, both conservative and free. This blog post also forces me to rethink the ways in which I approach the concepts of being "free" and "enslaved." The idea that Warda, a slave, was able to walk around unveiled seems shocking from a Westerner perspective and not simply because of her status. Instead I am forced to recognize that the Islamic fundamentalist ideas have been picked up by the Western media and have become accepted truths rather than questionable concepts. It seems as if Maalouf may have purposefully included a variety of perspectives of what it meant to be a woman during this time period to expose his audience to the truth behind Islamic cultural understandings. He reveals how there are no simple ideas that define womanhood and shows that the strict rules accepted as truths in the Western world never truly applied to all, even centuries ago during a much stricter time period. Overall, what I am trying to illustrate in this comment is how this blog post forces readers to question the Orientalist ideals we have come to believe as truth. In comparing the two perspectives of womanhood in both Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree and Leo Africanus, readers are finally able to sit down and really think about femininity, rights and Islamic tradition.
In Leo Africanus by: Amin Maalouf titles and the start of chapters play a very big role. The entire book is broken up into four sections which are titled with the names of the city where he was at that time in the story. Within this section I noticed that each chapter was titled with a name but then also two years. For example the first chapter reads “The Year of Salma al-Hurra 894 A.H., 5 December 1488-14 November 1489.” These dates are the Muslim and Christian dates that correspond to each calendar. I thought of this as a way that this book is different from Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree. In this book the author is including both years perhaps to signify that both cultures where important and mattered whereas in Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree it seemed to be more one sided when it came to the cultures being represented in the book. The calendar as well as dates seems to be very prevalent and important in this novel so far. “”In fact, Two hundred days precisely after his success…” (Pg. 18) In this quote the author uses a specific number to tell the readers about something that has happened, I think that it must be important for the reader to know that this happened exactly two hundred days later or the author would not include it would he? I have never read another book where the author seemed to put so much significance of dates, but it seems like this Maalouf really likes to emphasis things that are happening by using years and even specific dates if he can.
I was struck by the Jewish character, Gaudy Sarah, in this novel. She is described in a more mystical way than either the Christians or Muslims, toting potions and reading fortunes. According to Salma, Sarah stops by house to sell bracelets, perfumes, amulets, and to offer fortune telling. Later on in the novel, Sarah carries news to the Salma and her family until she leaves Granada. I'm interested in Sarah as a character not just because she is more mysterious or strange, but because I've encountered a character very much like her before, in Orhan Pamuk's My Name is Red. In the novel, the character is Esther the Jewess. She, like Sarah, passes on news and gossip mainly to the woman of a certain household. Esther fronts as a clothes peddler, but is more interested in matchmaking and uniting lovers. Here, in Leo Africanus, Gaudy Sarah is the woman who Salma twice goes to in order to get help with her marriage. My question is, why are Jewish women portrayed in this way? It seems almost as if they are a stock character in this literary discourse. My Name is Red takes place less than 100 years after the beginning of Leo Africanus, and in Turkey, but the Jewish characters are treated the same, and it seems as if Gaudy Sarah resurfaces in Pamuk's work. Does something in this Islamic or Middle eastern discourse harbor some notion that would produce mysterious, gossiping Jewish women as agents of news and sources romantic advice? In both novels, the women have been plagued by misfortune, obviously Sarah has been expelled from her homeland more recently, but both share a loss of family members and friends under religious circumstances. I'm interested to see where Sarah's story will go, if we even see much more of her.
I was also curious about Sarah, and the fact that she was one of the only Jews and the first mystic we are introduced to. The popular stereotype of Arab culture is that they are the mystical ones, such as in the Disney movie Aladdin, where the aide to the sultan and the Genie both use charms and magic. Our first encounter with Sarah is when she gave Salma the potion to put in Muhammad’s coffee. I really was positive that his was poison, but I was wrong, and Sarah’s potion work; Hasan arrived nine months later. I was kind of surprised when the potion worked and Salma conceived a son; Maalouf played into the stereotype of the Jewish mystic. The second time Salma and Sarah seek out the help of fortune tellers, I was positive that this was the time that Salma would accidentally kill Muhammad, and yet still he lived.
I was very interested in the contrast between Salma, Muhammad’s cousin and first wife, and Warda, Muhammad’s slave girl and mistress. Salma, the eventual mother of Hasan, was Arabic and Muslim and a free woman, whereas Warda was Christian and bought for the family. One would assume that as a free woman, Salma would have the better life, both in the household and in Granada in general. However, as Sarah says, “freedom is a deceitful state of bondage, and slavery a subtle form of freedom.” (6) Salma, as a Muslim, is forced to cover herself with a veil when she goes outside; Warda can walk free. When Salma has to hold herself to a certain standard while in public, always being scrutinized, Warda can be flirtatious, sing, even drink wine. It was an odd relationship; the free women were protected and restricted while the slaves could do as they pleased.
It might be worth it for Salma if Warda would always be the slave, or if the fact that Salma had given birth to the first son had meant a little more. However, the law of the times stated that once Warda gave birth, she would become free as well, and she would still get to live her life with the same whimsy as she had always been allowed. It almost seems that, given the choice, Salma would rather be the Christian mistress. Also, the reader is given the impression that Muhammad never really viewed Salma in a romantic light. They clearly were physical, as Salma became pregnant. At the same time, though, he referred to her as “cousin” or “Arab,” which really are not all that romantic. It seems that although Salma does her best to please Muhammad, there is something exotic about Warda that he cannot stay away from.
I also found the relationship between Warda and Salma to be intriguing. The two women seemed to me to be character foils. Warda represents sexuality while Salma represents practicality. The pair also seems to represent the two sides of a romantic relationship. Salma represents the friendship and loyalty that two people share when they are married. Warda, meanwhile, represents the sexual aspect of a relationship. I think that this dynamic problematizes the practice of Polygamy. While the family dynamic in the novel seems no less dysfunctional than in a monogamous family, in our society a couple like Mohammad and Salma or Mohammad and Warda would probably seek counseling in order to incorporate the aspect of their relationship that is missing. However, because Mohammad had two wives, he gets what he needs from whichever woman can provide, which seems to limit his relationship with both the women, rather than forming a truly functional relationship with either of them. In this way, the author seems to represent an average family within the polygamist stereotype, showing both what the institution has and what it lacks.
I really liked the last line of your post when you say "...there is something exotic about Warda that he cannot stay away from". That brings to mind all of the discussion we've had in class about exoticism. Infatuation with the exotic played a major role in character development in The White Castle, where Hoja's 'obsession' with Western culture led to the role reversal between himself and the Venetian. It can also be argued that this infatuation translated into eroticism, when Hoja is inspecting the Venetian's body in front of the mirror. The question becomes, is Maalouf trying to show how Islam was so deeply imbedded in Christian culture before the fall of Granada that the two cultures were almost in a sense, married together? Awesome blog response!
Identity and Identifying with the Narrator: Leo Africanus
While reading Leo Africanus by Amin Maalouf, the first thing I noticed was Hasan’s lack of cultural identity. In the preface of the novel, Hason states that “I am now called the African, but I am not from Africa, nor from Europe nor from Arabia...I come from no country, from no city, no tribe. I am the son of the road, my country is the caravan, my life the most unexpected of voyages” (1). While I know the Hasan in Maalouf’s novel is based on the historical figure Leo Africanus, I thought Maalouf’s decision in presenting Hasan from the very first page as someone who identifies with no particular culture, country, language, etc. may have had more than one purpose: although the preface introduces readers to the historically accurate aspects of Leo Africanus, it also serves to not ostracize any particular group of readers from identifying with the main character.
When I read a novel and the narrator is introduced as Chinese, Turkish, Spanish, etc.—anything I am not—I immediately feel some sort of disconnect from the narrator. It's not that I don't want to identify with the character. It’s just harder to identify with a character or have a personal connection with him when I am not him. Without doubt, there will be cultural differences between the narrator and myself, at least to some degree. While I can continue to sympathize with the narrator, I cannot empathize with him. From the beginning of Leo Africanus, however, it is made clear to readers that the narrator identifies with no specific nationality or religion. Hasan is obviously religious, since he wonders what he will say to the “supreme Creator” (1) when he passes away. However, he speaks Arabic, Castilian, and Hebrew, so as far as readers know he could be Muslim, Christian, or Jewish. Or none of the above.
This ambiguity in Hasan’s identity, in my opinion, serves as a tool to include all groups of readers within the text. If Hasan were to identify as solely African, for example, he would be excluding readers who identify as European or Arabian from wholly identifying or empathizing with him. However, because Hasan does not specifically identify himself as African, European, or Arabian, it does not exclude any particular group of readers from identifying with him. While Maalouf may just be relaying interesting facts about Leo Africanus or introducing his readers to the main character of his novel in a poetic way, I think Maalouf’s decision to begin the novel this way allows his readers to better relate to and connect with the main character.
Significance of Each Chapter Title
ReplyDelete3/3/12
I realized about halfway into my reading that each chapter’s title seemed a little similar to the last. They all began with, “The year of…” I understood immediately that this must be some important sign that I am just not catching onto or that the author really liked placing a timeline for each chapter. To my surprise the author didn’t do this only for a timeline but wrote his work trying to imitate an Islamic memoir. Since Maalouf is portraying the work to seem like it is coming from Leo Africanus’ view he labels each chapter with years because it is part of the Islamic culture. In pre-Islamic times, the years were marked with a special event that had taken place over the whole year. The Year of the Elephant, the year in which Muhammad was born, was named after an unsuccessful raid by Abraha. The following years were marked by the life events of Muhammad. The first ten are as follows; the year of permission, the year of the order of fighting, the year of the trial, the year of congratulation on marriage, the year of the earthquake, the year of enquiring, the year of gaining victory, the year of equality, the year of exemption and the year of farewell.
Maalouf’s titles of all his chapters make sense seeing that he was trying to create a narrative coming from a devout Muslim. It also makes sense considering his titles give both Islamic and Gregorian years. By doing this, Maalouf is establishing a preface to his work, the difference between Islam and Christianity, even in the smallest sense. It allows the reader to understand the difference between the Hijri calendar and the Gregorian calendar; even with minor details such as AH, which stands for ‘the year of’. It also allows the reader to understand that the Islamic calendar runs differently than the Gregorian calendar (which is based on the seasons), such as their years fall differently based on the lunar cycle.
Jeanne Magnetti
ReplyDeleteOrientalism in “Leo Africanus” Part I
The author, Amin Maalouf, is intimately familiar with both the Middle Eastern culture and the European culture. So, why would such Orientalist imagery be present in his novel, “Leo Africanus”? For instance, Hasan’s mother, Salma fulfills all of her medical needs through the craft of Gaudy Sarah. Gaudy Sarah trades in “amulets, bracelets, perfumes… ambergris, jasmine and water lilies” and the telling of fortunes (6). Such mysticism in medicine is characteristic of Western stereotypes about the East, who assume that the East lacks modern medicine. Moreover, when Salma tells her husband that Gaudy Sarah advised that Muhammad should not come near either of his wives during pregnancy, his reaction is so violent that “Salma thought that he would have beaten her is she had not been pregnant” (8). This incident clearly displays a lack of respect for women and the expectation that they should be subordinate to men. Additionally, there is the story of the Sultan’s mistress. The sultan calls his nobles together to watch her bathe, and then “invited all those present to drink a small bowl of water which Soraya had left behind” (16). This is the sort of eroticism that the West associates East and its women. Furthermore, there is the description of the bandit Zarwali’s harem. It is said that he regularly takes and divorces new wives in order to maintain the legal amount of four, and that “a denunciation, a slander, and insinuation” is enough for one of them to be strangled (137). This idea that a Harem is a wealthy man’s personal brothel that is filled with jealousy and intrigue is Orientalist. Moreover, Hasan describes the encounters of the village people in Africa with lions. In some areas “a child has only to run shouting behind a lion for the latter to run away…In another village…the lions wander between the houses to eat the bones which are left out for them…I have also heard that when a woman finds herself alone with a lion in an isolated place she has only to uncover a certain part of her body in front of him for the animal to roar loudly, lower his eyes, and slink away” (129). That the people in the Middle East live with wild beasts, and even have sexual encounters with them, is certainly an Orientalist idea. This plethora of Orientalist imagery leads one to wonder why Amin Maalouf would portray his nation is such a way. Perhaps, rather than simply trying to portray the East as a land full of people ‘just like us,’ Maalouf is playing upon the stereotypes of the West while at the same time displaying the faults of both Christians and Muslims as people, not as representations of a faith. This approach problematizes the separation of people by identity groups and humanizes both the East and the West.
I think you bring up a really good point with the idea of Orientalism in Leo Africanus. It is definitely true that there are scenes which depict the stereotypical view of the East as this mystical land where people consult clairvoyant's, consult the stars, and practice sorcery upon one another. I think that Amin Maalouf did this on purpose because he knew both sides of the Orientalist coin. He wanted to give the popular audience what they wanted, but at the same time show that these are stereotypes; he wanted to show them in a neutral light so that people could understand that they are not a negative aspect of the Eastern culture. He kept it very real, not exemplifying the stereotypes to a ridiculous point where it became comical, and keeping them subtle enough where it just made the reader believe that it could be a land in Northern Africa that is filled with Muslims. He peppered in exaggerations of their culture in order to exemplify the mysticism that is related to them.
DeleteAs far as playing on stereotypes, I think Maalouf does do that in a productive manner. We talked about Sarah, the mysterious Jewish woman, and while Maalouf presents her as this more mystic woman, I think he also portrays through her the struggle of the Jewish people during this time. In my response, I mentioned how Sarah seems to be a stock character, as I've read another very similar to her, Esther from Pamuk's My Name is Red. I see more merit now because Maalouf uses this stereotype to shed light on a serious situation. Yes, "Gaudy" Sarah deals in predictions, potions, and amulets, but she is also always telling Salma about her family members and friends who have been murdered. Speaking about these tragedies in an almost nonchalant way, Sarah's character speaks to the rampant persecution of Jews across the continent: one of Sarah's nieces has been burnt alive with her husband under suspicion of remaining a Jew in secret (94).
DeleteBy playing with a stereotype of a Jewish diaspora character, Maalouf juxtaposes the mystic persona with the tragic reality.
Amin Maalouf’s Leo Africanus
ReplyDeleteWeek 1 – March 5, 2013
Ellen Walpole
The Idea of Identity
As we talked about in class today, the preface of the novel is used as a tool for foreshadowing the identity of the main character, Hasan. However, I think the larger theme that can also be seen in the preface is the fact that the author, Amin Maalouf, also fails to have a one specific identity; there is no one category that he can be put under. As was seen in the videos, Maalouf was born in Lebanon but can speak French and Arabic fluently and is also considered a European. Instead of finding this strange, I think it is amazing to have so many different cultural backgrounds.
Maalouf said he feels European when there are problems in Europe, and Lebanese when there are issues in Lebanon, and when I heard that it took me awhile to actually process that he can feel like he belongs to both places. I am assuming he surpasses ideas of Orientalism because he is able to completely relate to so many different cultures. The discourse that we often find ourselves would be much easier for him to avoid.
While Leo Africanus did actually exist, I believe that Maalouf’s portrayal of him was written from some personal experiences. The real man Africanus was also a writer and traveled extensively, much like the fictional writer Maalouf. To “come from no country, from no city, no tribe” (Maalouf 1) establishes a lot of gray area about where Hasan should feel allegiance to.
The idea of global citizenship or a “world citizen,” also discussed in class, is interesting in that while it would be ideal to feel like you belonged to so many places, where would you establish your “home?” Which in turn raises the question on what the idea of “home” really is; is a country your home? Or the town you grew up in? I don’t believe that “home” can be an address and the way Maalouf wrote that Hasan was “…the son of the road, [his] country is the caravan, [his] life the most unexpected of voyages” (Maalouf 1), and that “[he] belong[s] only to God and to the earth, and it is to them that [he] will one day soon return” (Maalouf 1).
Clearly this leads the reader to believe that it doesn’t matter where you are from or where you call home, it is only your relationship with God that truly matters. I do find this somewhat ironic, though, because Maalouf’s religion is not clear; but, I suppose it is written from Hasan’s point of view.
you bring up an interesting contrast between the idea of "home" and where you are from. certainly it is possible to have a background in numerous places but do we decide for ourselves which is home or even if we have one? this seems to be echoed in the preface, as well as in the mantra of al of history's favorite vagabonds. often learned and culturally diverse, they all fall back on one place as their "home" and if not, it's the road, the act of being in transition.
DeleteWhat if I had to leave? What if one day as I was living in my community that I was born into I was told that I had to leave? Taking this class we have read a lot of books about loosing identity or having to leave ones home. What is my identity and would it ever be at fault? When I think about myself when it comes to identity I have a lot of trouble coming up with anything. I do not follow any religion, and I do not think of myself as patriotic, so this makes me confused to as whom I am.
ReplyDeleteIn my life I would always say that I hated the town that I lived in, I would say how much I wanted to move away and live elsewhere. What I have learned by going away to school and taking this class, is that where your born and grow up is very important to who you are. It is what you know and what you associate your life with. When I would introduce myself I would say, “I am Brian and I am from Long Island”, immediately that created some kind of identity to the person that I was introducing myself to. This past winter Long Island was hit hard by Hurricane Sandy, towns were destroyed, homes where damaged, people lost their home. Places that I grew up around had been blown away. At this moment my whole mindset of “I hate this place” became something of sadness of the destruction of where my childhood took place. Long Island went from suburban living to ground zero, and this hurt inside to see something so close to me be almost destroyed.
When I read the preface of the book I felt some kind of nostalgia because like his life I have moved many times in my life. When I was in elementary school I was told that I had to leave. My parents told me that our family was moving to England. Even though my parents weren’t the Spanish Catholics, this occurrence in my life was very analogous to that of the people in the book Leo Africanus. My entire world was to be let go and then started up in a whole different country. I would have to acquire new customs and learn different cultures. For Leo and his family it would be more of a forced and abrupt transition, fortunately I was able to return to my home and lifestyle.
So again this makes me wonder, what defines me. Is it the places I have moved in my life or is it the place that I have lived a majority of my life. Or is completely independent of where you live, maybe the family in which you grow into. In both Shadows of a Pomegranate Tree and Leo Africanus both families live in Granada during the time of the inquisition but we can see very distinct difference in their family structure. By looking at these two different families no one would classify them as the same by saying that they are “Muslim families living in Granada during the inquisition” because that is totally over simplifying the people who lived there. I hope that when people look back at where I live in the future they don’t put every single Long Islander under the same category because we aren’t all classified by where we live, its more particular to each family or even person.
So who am I? I don’t know yet, due to the fact that I am only in college and haven’t really lived yet. This excites me, because I have all of my college life to discover what I want to do. I am glad that this class makes me think about how different people lived in different times through these books. It makes me realize that the one thing that we as humans have in common is that we have nothing in common.
This is a very interesting perspective, as I completely agree with you. I moved around and lived in numerous places as well (although not out of the country), and this is the third college I have attended. I guess you're supposed to have things figured out by now, but I definitely don't. Leo Africanus seemed to embrace the fact that he belonged to the road and had no one specfic homeland, and I think there is something amazing in that. However, your tie to Hurricane Sandy proves that we cannot really every truly escape the place we were born. When Hasan first got to Fez, he still pictured "home" in Granada and hoped to return. Eventually though, I think with enough experience, you start to have a better understanding of yourself, which will in turn result in finding the answer to "who you are."
DeleteI completely agree with the author of this entry, I don’t know what I would do if I was told I had to up and leave my entire life, including changing religions and being made to change my moral in life. Much like many people my family moved while I was in school, which made it so that I had to pick up and start at a new school my sophomore year in high school. Though this is nothing compared to the author/character in this book, it was still a big change for me. I had the attended the same school, had the same friends and lived in the same community for as long as I could remember. Even though I felt lost and like I was losing everything I had ever known, I did not feel like I was losing my identity or who I was because I think that goes so much deeper than just the place you live in, and the people you hang out with.
DeleteI think your identity has to do with who you are and what you believe in rather than where you live and go to school. I agree that most of the books we have read so far this semester the characters have been told that they have to up in leave, but just because they are leaving their homes and going to create a new home somewhere else I do not believe that they are losing this identity. I would say that they are losing their identity when they are being forced to change religion and believe in something that they do not (we have seen this in some of the books that we have read so far).
Just like yourself I am still finding my own identity, finally pulling away from my parents it is my decision now to decide what I believe what I do not believe and make my own identity because growing up so much of my identity was based on what my parents thought and felt about things because that is was I was taught when I was not old enough to make my own judgement but now that I am it is exciting to know that there is a world out there for me to explore and make my own judgments about thus in turn creating my own identity based solely on what I think, feel and believe to be true.
Developing personal identity takes time and it could be argued that you never truly discover who you are.
DeleteI define myself as the sum of all of my past experiences and emotions.I am nothing more or less then that concept, but how do I tell someone, in an external matter, who I am?
Do I tell them my life's story? Attempt to put into words my emotions which every poet has declared impossible?
How do I tell myself who I am without having finished my life?
My past experiences make up who I am today, and my future possibilities will eventually come to pass, changing who I am today into a slightly different version..
In the end, I believe, it is important to be firm in understanding that "I am" represents a morphosis of identity: that identity is not a static state.
I think that most people who go away to college and find themselves far from home can relate to this post. As I am also from Long Island, my home is a seven or eight hour drive away. In coming here to Geneseo, I had to learn to meld into an entirely different community. In fact, this daunting challenge was overcome much more easily than I expected. I suppose you could say I found, much as Leo Africanus did, that people are more or less the same no matter where you are. The superficial differences can be difficult to look past, but the concerns that people face (love, family, religion, politics) are constant whether you are on Long Island or in Geneseo, or in sixteenth-century Granada, Fez, Cairo or Rome. This was a major theme I saw running throughout the book "Leo Africanus". The fact that so many characters mirror each other in so many ways only underscores this fact. In Hibi we see echoes of Warda; Astagfirrulah is echoed as a fanatical pope in the Vatican; the political intrigues of Granada, of Cairo and of Rome all echo each other. The fact that Leo, and that we as college students, can move from one community to another seems to reinforce the idea that we have more in common than not.
DeleteI absolutely agree in your assessment of how where you have grown up has defined you. Just like you, I am guilty of saying the same exact things, I could not WAIT to get out of my hometown and finally move away to never come back. However, as I've grown older I've realized that where I grew up was not such a bad place after all, and it truly has lead me to become the person I am today. In terms of Hassan, he was not given this choice, and did not at all have the choice to move away, but instead was forced to. I feel that due to this decision that was ultimately out of his hands, it kind of defined who he later becomes. In his mind, growing up means moving around. As we already know from the four different sections of the novel and in the preface, he constantly moves around and this is how he defines himself. I admire this lifestyle, and feel that it makes him a better person, open to all cultures and societies. It is neat to compare our lives to his, in that we were given the opportunity to remain in our childhood communities (in your case you moved, but later returned), and this shapes who we are. Moving out of these communities was a decision we chose to make, which is the lifestyle Hassan defines himself by.
DeleteLeo Africanus: A New Perspective, Same Issue
ReplyDeleteDia Seskin
So far I have truly enjoyed Amin Maalouf's Leo Africanus, and found it to be an extremely well written novel, depicting the life of a sixteenth-century adventurer right at the center of various key political and cultural movements. The novel is written in the style of a memoir, that is essentially geared as a guide to his future son; which I found to be particularly interesting. The novel highlights a number of key themes throughout its first half, a few being the familial structure and the relationship of each family member to one another, the question of identity as many cultures are exiled from their homes, and the use of magic and god as means to obtain happiness.
I found the style in which this book was written to be extremely significant in attempting to unpack and fully comprehend it. The book is divided into sections, and within these sections are chapters recording the dates in which everything occurs. Furthermore, each section is named after the city that holds the most influence over the memoir at that time, clueing the reader in to the changes the narrator faces in terms of the world and cultural society he currently resides in. The major conflict throughout the first half of the novel in which we have seen come up a number of different times throughout the other novels we have been reading, is the conflict between Islam and Christianity. This narrative seems to portray different view than the others however, given that the narrator's family ultimately chooses to evacuate their original home in Granada to escape persecution as well as conversion. The father within this novel appears to be a bit more rational than the father in Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree, in that he is fully aware of what is going on around him and makes the wise decision to move his family in order to steer them clear of Christian brutality. In addition to this, the father's choice to agree to give up their homeland of Granada was an extremely non-resistant stance as opposed to the father in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree. He willingly agrees to allow the Christians to gain control over their kingdom, taking an ultimately passive stance on the matter. Although the way in which he chose to deal with the inquisition may be considered as a cowardly move, as opposed to the father in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree, to me it seemed way more human and realistic. Muhammad's choice to move his family is truly the choice to make if one wants to save their family, and to me felt like the right decision.
Finally, I wanted to discuss the issue of relationships in terms of Al-Hasan Ibn Muhammad al-Wazzan's family. I found myself constantly sympathizing with the narrator as he is depicted as a child, forced to watch his mother struggle to gain attention from her unfaithful husband. His father's mistress I felt played an extremely annoying role, consistantly getting in the way of their family,'s plans, repeatedly bringing shame on them all. At first I was a bit confused as to why she was included in the novel at all, but as we discussed in class the issues of polygamy and its role in the society at this time, her character's value became more clear.
Amin Maalouf’s Leo Africanus continually stresses the concept of common humanity underlying all cultures and social classes, and the absurdity of violating this humanity on the basis of conflicting identities. For example, the narrator’s mother Salma is the free Muslim wife of Muhammad. Originally, she is extremely resentful towards Muhammad’s mistress Warda, a Christian slave. When both women become pregnant at the same time, a silent competition begins over who will bare Muhammad his first son. One day after Muhammad parades them both through the streets, the women both collapse on the same bed and broke into laughter. After this incident, “a certain bond developed which softened the rivalry between them” (Maalouf 8). It is in subtle ways such as this that Maalouf seems to be suggesting that common human experiences, such as pregnancy, can bring us together despite differences in class or religion.
ReplyDeleteThis message is also conveyed by the way the novel conveys the seeming pointlessness of fighting those with whom one shares a partial identity. For example, under sultan Abu’l-Hasan people “were arrested because they had been denounced by some rival or even a jealous neighbor” (17). The fact that neighbors, who share a common location at the least, would have each other arrested reveals the danger of living in any sort of fear culture. When civil war breaks out over allegiance to the sultan, “sons killed fathers and brothers strangled brothers…neighbors suspected and betrayed each other” (19). By including both external and civil war and tension between cultures and tension between family members, Maalouf causes us to question where we draw the line between the “other” and our own kin. We are appalled by the thought of brothers betraying brothers, but at what point do we determine that someone is too “other” to deserve our loyalty and respect?
I loved the way you compared these analogies! I think one starts to forget the other when one is completely confident and sure of oneself. Both Salma and Warda after a while realize that there is not a competition between each other but between how they both handle the outside world together; for they are both looked down upon because of Muhammad. When one is happy with themselves, there is no need to feel a revenge.
DeleteThe Status of Women in Leo Africanus
ReplyDeleteWhen reading Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree by Tariq Ali, I was surprised to see the ways in which Muslim women were empowered during the medieval time period in which it was set. When envisioning the East through a Western lens, Islamic society is often viewed as oppressive and cruel towards their female population. Today through the media and other resources, the West is guilty of being more familiar with the Islamic fundamentalist presence in the Middle East rather than the modern and bustling society that also exists therein. However, Islamic fundamentalism was not thoroughly mentioned in Ali’s novel, where is becomes a major topic of discussion in Leo Africanus by Amin Maalouf, especially as it is voiced by the character Shaikh
Astaghfirullah. Throughout the first book of the novel, there is continuous mention of the status of women in Granada, where many are viewed as heretics in their superstitions, and temptations in their beauty. It seems that what Ali failed to mention in his novel was how the Inquisition’s threat to destroy Islamic society and the city of Granada was also coupled with an Islamic extremist movement that affected the status of women.
We first learn the concept of ‘free’ versus ‘enslaved’ women when Hasan’s mother describes the early stages of her marriage. As a married woman she was considered free, yet her husband becomes seduced by their servant Warda who was considered a slave. Her servant had “all the wiles of seduction at her disposal” (6), while Salma was unable to abandon her conservative demeanor. Warda could, “go out unveiled, sing, dance, pour wine, wink her eyes, and take off her clothes”, which led Salma to feel as though freedom were “a deceitful form of bondage, and slavery a subtle form of freedom” (6).
The superstitions that women commonly held during this time period were also viewed as a kind of herecy. In explaining her prediction for bearing a son to her husband Muhammad, Salma was immediately accused of being a “witch” and a “she-devil” and ran the risk of being beaten (8). Later the reader learns that the manufacture of amulets and charms made by mothers to protect their children was also a practice that defied religion, and women were seen as irrational and inferior by ascribing to these superstitions.
When Shaikh Astaghfirullah gives his sermon, he comments on his extremist view of women in Islamic society. He remarks on how women are often seen “unveiled” on the streets, “offering their faces and their hair to the lustful gaze of hundreds of men” (33), a view that closely corresponds with the Western view of Islamic fundamentalism or in some cases even Middle Eastern society as a whole. Shaikh sees a religious defiance in how “men cannot be distinguished from women, neither in their dress nor in their gait” (34) within Islamic society.
This novel, written similarly to Shades of the Pomegranate Tree allows the reader more insight into medieval Islam in Granada before the fall of the city. I am interested to see how the status of women changes in Hasan’s future travels.
I think the author of this blog post did a really great job of summarizing the role and view of women in this novel. Through the concept of free vs. enslaved, we can see how women were oppressed despite their status. The author of this blog post also mentions how women's beliefs were considered superstition, showing how their opinions weren't valued and were believed to be frivolous. I also like how the author of this post uses Shaikh Astaghfirullah as a symbol for Islamic fundamentalism. As a tradionalist, Astaghfirullah symbolizes all of the conservative beliefs of Islam.
DeleteThis blog response brings up some thought-provoking questions and ideas regarding the status of women in Islamic nations, both nowadays and during the time of the fall of Granada. I agree that Westerners often believe in the ideas stressed by Islamic fundamentalists about the conservatism of women. Leo Africanus illustrates the different types of women found within Islamic societies, both conservative and free. This blog post also forces me to rethink the ways in which I approach the concepts of being "free" and "enslaved." The idea that Warda, a slave, was able to walk around unveiled seems shocking from a Westerner perspective and not simply because of her status. Instead I am forced to recognize that the Islamic fundamentalist ideas have been picked up by the Western media and have become accepted truths rather than questionable concepts.
DeleteIt seems as if Maalouf may have purposefully included a variety of perspectives of what it meant to be a woman during this time period to expose his audience to the truth behind Islamic cultural understandings. He reveals how there are no simple ideas that define womanhood and shows that the strict rules accepted as truths in the Western world never truly applied to all, even centuries ago during a much stricter time period.
Overall, what I am trying to illustrate in this comment is how this blog post forces readers to question the Orientalist ideals we have come to believe as truth. In comparing the two perspectives of womanhood in both Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree and Leo Africanus, readers are finally able to sit down and really think about femininity, rights and Islamic tradition.
Brittany Staie
ReplyDeleteLeo Africanus- Calendars
In Leo Africanus by: Amin Maalouf titles and the start of chapters play a very big role. The entire book is broken up into four sections which are titled with the names of the city where he was at that time in the story. Within this section I noticed that each chapter was titled with a name but then also two years. For example the first chapter reads “The Year of Salma al-Hurra 894 A.H., 5 December 1488-14 November 1489.” These dates are the Muslim and Christian dates that correspond to each calendar. I thought of this as a way that this book is different from Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree. In this book the author is including both years perhaps to signify that both cultures where important and mattered whereas in Shadows of The Pomegranate Tree it seemed to be more one sided when it came to the cultures being represented in the book. The calendar as well as dates seems to be very prevalent and important in this novel so far. “”In fact, Two hundred days precisely after his success…” (Pg. 18) In this quote the author uses a specific number to tell the readers about something that has happened, I think that it must be important for the reader to know that this happened exactly two hundred days later or the author would not include it would he? I have never read another book where the author seemed to put so much significance of dates, but it seems like this Maalouf really likes to emphasis things that are happening by using years and even specific dates if he can.
A Jewish Stock Character?
ReplyDeleteI was struck by the Jewish character, Gaudy Sarah, in this novel. She is described in a more mystical way than either the Christians or Muslims, toting potions and reading fortunes. According to Salma, Sarah stops by house to sell bracelets, perfumes, amulets, and to offer fortune telling. Later on in the novel, Sarah carries news to the Salma and her family until she leaves Granada.
I'm interested in Sarah as a character not just because she is more mysterious or strange, but because I've encountered a character very much like her before, in Orhan Pamuk's My Name is Red. In the novel, the character is Esther the Jewess. She, like Sarah, passes on news and gossip mainly to the woman of a certain household. Esther fronts as a clothes peddler, but is more interested in matchmaking and uniting lovers. Here, in Leo Africanus, Gaudy Sarah is the woman who Salma twice goes to in order to get help with her marriage.
My question is, why are Jewish women portrayed in this way? It seems almost as if they are a stock character in this literary discourse. My Name is Red takes place less than 100 years after the beginning of Leo Africanus, and in Turkey, but the Jewish characters are treated the same, and it seems as if Gaudy Sarah resurfaces in Pamuk's work.
Does something in this Islamic or Middle eastern discourse harbor some notion that would produce mysterious, gossiping Jewish women as agents of news and sources romantic advice? In both novels, the women have been plagued by misfortune, obviously Sarah has been expelled from her homeland more recently, but both share a loss of family members and friends under religious circumstances.
I'm interested to see where Sarah's story will go, if we even see much more of her.
I was also curious about Sarah, and the fact that she was one of the only Jews and the first mystic we are introduced to. The popular stereotype of Arab culture is that they are the mystical ones, such as in the Disney movie Aladdin, where the aide to the sultan and the Genie both use charms and magic. Our first encounter with Sarah is when she gave Salma the potion to put in Muhammad’s coffee. I really was positive that his was poison, but I was wrong, and Sarah’s potion work; Hasan arrived nine months later. I was kind of surprised when the potion worked and Salma conceived a son; Maalouf played into the stereotype of the Jewish mystic. The second time Salma and Sarah seek out the help of fortune tellers, I was positive that this was the time that Salma would accidentally kill Muhammad, and yet still he lived.
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ReplyDeleteI was very interested in the contrast between Salma, Muhammad’s cousin and first wife, and Warda, Muhammad’s slave girl and mistress. Salma, the eventual mother of Hasan, was Arabic and Muslim and a free woman, whereas Warda was Christian and bought for the family. One would assume that as a free woman, Salma would have the better life, both in the household and in Granada in general. However, as Sarah says, “freedom is a deceitful state of bondage, and slavery a subtle form of freedom.” (6) Salma, as a Muslim, is forced to cover herself with a veil when she goes outside; Warda can walk free. When Salma has to hold herself to a certain standard while in public, always being scrutinized, Warda can be flirtatious, sing, even drink wine. It was an odd relationship; the free women were protected and restricted while the slaves could do as they pleased.
It might be worth it for Salma if Warda would always be the slave, or if the fact that Salma had given birth to the first son had meant a little more. However, the law of the times stated that once Warda gave birth, she would become free as well, and she would still get to live her life with the same whimsy as she had always been allowed. It almost seems that, given the choice, Salma would rather be the Christian mistress. Also, the reader is given the impression that Muhammad never really viewed Salma in a romantic light. They clearly were physical, as Salma became pregnant. At the same time, though, he referred to her as “cousin” or “Arab,” which really are not all that romantic. It seems that although Salma does her best to please Muhammad, there is something exotic about Warda that he cannot stay away from.
I also found the relationship between Warda and Salma to be intriguing. The two women seemed to me to be character foils. Warda represents sexuality while Salma represents practicality. The pair also seems to represent the two sides of a romantic relationship. Salma represents the friendship and loyalty that two people share when they are married. Warda, meanwhile, represents the sexual aspect of a relationship. I think that this dynamic problematizes the practice of Polygamy. While the family dynamic in the novel seems no less dysfunctional than in a monogamous family, in our society a couple like Mohammad and Salma or Mohammad and Warda would probably seek counseling in order to incorporate the aspect of their relationship that is missing. However, because Mohammad had two wives, he gets what he needs from whichever woman can provide, which seems to limit his relationship with both the women, rather than forming a truly functional relationship with either of them. In this way, the author seems to represent an average family within the polygamist stereotype, showing both what the institution has and what it lacks.
DeleteI really liked the last line of your post when you say "...there is something exotic about Warda that he cannot stay away from". That brings to mind all of the discussion we've had in class about exoticism. Infatuation with the exotic played a major role in character development in The White Castle, where Hoja's 'obsession' with Western culture led to the role reversal between himself and the Venetian. It can also be argued that this infatuation translated into eroticism, when Hoja is inspecting the Venetian's body in front of the mirror. The question becomes, is Maalouf trying to show how Islam was so deeply imbedded in Christian culture before the fall of Granada that the two cultures were almost in a sense, married together? Awesome blog response!
DeleteIdentity and Identifying with the Narrator: Leo Africanus
ReplyDeleteWhile reading Leo Africanus by Amin Maalouf, the first thing I noticed was Hasan’s lack of cultural identity. In the preface of the novel, Hason states that “I am now called the African, but I am not from Africa, nor from Europe nor from Arabia...I come from no country, from no city, no tribe. I am the son of the road, my country is the caravan, my life the most unexpected of voyages” (1). While I know the Hasan in Maalouf’s novel is based on the historical figure Leo Africanus, I thought Maalouf’s decision in presenting Hasan from the very first page as someone who identifies with no particular culture, country, language, etc. may have had more than one purpose: although the preface introduces readers to the historically accurate aspects of Leo Africanus, it also serves to not ostracize any particular group of readers from identifying with the main character.
When I read a novel and the narrator is introduced as Chinese, Turkish, Spanish, etc.—anything I am not—I immediately feel some sort of disconnect from the narrator. It's not that I don't want to identify with the character. It’s just harder to identify with a character or have a personal connection with him when I am not him. Without doubt, there will be cultural differences between the narrator and myself, at least to some degree. While I can continue to sympathize with the narrator, I cannot empathize with him. From the beginning of Leo Africanus, however, it is made clear to readers that the narrator identifies with no specific nationality or religion. Hasan is obviously religious, since he wonders what he will say to the “supreme Creator” (1) when he passes away. However, he speaks Arabic, Castilian, and Hebrew, so as far as readers know he could be Muslim, Christian, or Jewish. Or none of the above.
This ambiguity in Hasan’s identity, in my opinion, serves as a tool to include all groups of readers within the text. If Hasan were to identify as solely African, for example, he would be excluding readers who identify as European or Arabian from wholly identifying or empathizing with him. However, because Hasan does not specifically identify himself as African, European, or Arabian, it does not exclude any particular group of readers from identifying with him. While Maalouf may just be relaying interesting facts about Leo Africanus or introducing his readers to the main character of his novel in a poetic way, I think Maalouf’s decision to begin the novel this way allows his readers to better relate to and connect with the main character.