The Man from Bashmour

Salwa Bakr

Description

Egypt in the ninth century ad: an Arab, Muslim ruling class governs a country of mostly Coptic-speaking Christians. After an exorbitant land tax imposed by the caliph's governors sparks a peasant revolt, Budayr is dispatched to the marshlands of the Nile Delta as an escort for a church-appointed emissary whose mission is to persuade the rebels to lay down their arms. But he is soon caught up in a swirl of events and concerns that alter the course of his life irrevocably, setting him on a path he could never have foreseen. The events that befall him and the insights he gains from them bring about a gradual but inexorable personal transformation, through which his eyes are opened to the fundamental commonalities practical, spiritual, and existential that bind Muslims and Copts, and he emerges as an emissary of a new sort. Hailed as a groundbreaking treatment of otherwise neglected aspects of medieval history, The Man from Bashmour is an exploration of the Egyptian character past and present, and offers insights into Egyptian thought on everything from love, philosophy, and religion to life and death.

Sujets

• Literary
• Fiction
• Islam
• Musulman

Informations

• Publié par: The American University in Cairo Press
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2007
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781617971563
• Langue: English

Extrait

First published in 2007 by
The American University in Cairo Press
113 Sharia Kasr el Aini, Cairo, Egypt
420 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10018
www.aucpress.com
Copyright © 1998 by Salwa Bakr
First published in Arabic in 1998 as al-Bashmuri
Protected under the Berne Convention
Translation copyright © 2007 by Nancy Roberts
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Dar el Kutub No. 3298/07
eISBN: 978 161 797 156 3
Dar el Kutub Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bakr, Salwa
The Man from Bashmour / Salwa Bakr; translated by Nancy Roberts.—Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2007
p. cm.
eISBN: 978 161 797 156 3
1. Arabic fiction I. Roberts, Nancy (trans.) II. Title
813
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 12 11 10 09 08 07
Designed by Sally Boylan /AUC Press Design Center
Printed in Egypt
Translator’s Acknowledgments
I would like to extend thanks and appreciation to the following individuals for their patient and generous assistance in the process of researching elusive terms encountered in the translation process: Dr. David Grafton (Coordinator of Graduate Studies, Evangelical Theological Seminary, Cairo), Ms. Nazli Rizk (Cairo), Father Baniameen Morgan Basily (St. Mark’s Church, Giza), Father Laurence Mancuso (founder and former abbot of New Skete Monastery in Cambridge, New York), Arthur Miller (Academy of Languages, Baltimore, MD), my husband, Dr. Amin Odeh, and last but not least, the book’s author, Salwa Bakr.
Preface
I n August 1998, the Egyptian publisher Dar al-Hilal, which had been due to publish Part I of The Man from Bashmour (al-Bashmuri) , called a halt to the publication process after sectarian strife broke out in Upper Egypt, particularly in the town of al-Kusheh, and which had repercussions so broad that a committee from the U.S. Congress came to Egypt to investigate the events. For my part, I argued that the novel’s release at that time in particular could help to clarify the profound commonalities shared by Muslims and Copts in Egypt. Though I am a Muslim, the novel is an attempt to offer an objective reading of the events of history without regard for specifically religious or ideological considerations. Fortunately, the publisher agreed to release the novel, stipulating the omission of certain phrases that they feared could cause offense to some Muslims or Copts, a proviso to which I agreed.
When Part I of the novel was finally published in the fall of 1998, it was met with mixed responses in Egypt. A contributor to al-Ahram newspaper criticized it, saying that it stood to foment sectarian strife between Muslims and Copts. * Similarly, some Egyptian Copts viewed the novel as unwanted interference in Coptic affairs. However, a seminar in which the work was discussed was attended by clergymen and theologians who praised the novel as a significant document that offers a re-reading of aspects of early medieval history that had heretofore been passed over in silence.
The novel shocked many due to the fact that it reexamines the so-called historical constants related to the Arab conquest of Egypt and the relationship that existed between Muslims and Copts during that time period, since historical accounts written by Muslim or Coptic historians have tended to be based primarily on religious perspectives and beliefs, while the cultural and civilizational facts have tended to be concealed behind this history, particularly in connection with Egypt’s predominant religions and languages before the latter shifted to Arabic.
The text of the novel contains six languages: ancient Egyptian, Coptic, Syriac, Greek, Farsi, and, of course, Arabic. These languages are distributed over a large number of passages scattered throughout the novel and are taken from writings from the Middle Ages. What becomes apparent through such passages is that these languages were often used together within a single text written in Arabic, a phenomenon which reveals the extent to which different cultures and civilizations have intermingled and interpenetrated in the Middle East since time immemorial. An example of such interpenetration on the linguistic level may be seen in a passage taken from al-Qazwini’s, The Wonders of Created Things which contains the names of varied species of fish and birds, and which was written in Arabic, Farsi, Coptic, and Greek.
The novel rests upon the events of history. However, it only concerns itself with such events in their capacity as a vehicle or receptacle for civilizational and cultural meanings that challenge the notion of a cultural or civilizational ‘purity’ for which so many have striven and continue to strive. Hence, for example, the novel speaks of monks in Egyptian monasteries who are punished for reading the books of the Sabeans and the Mu‘tazilites, while in Baghdad we find ancient Greek culture to have enjoyed a powerful presence within a deeply Islamic culture.
The novel is set in a partially antiquated geographical context as a necessary condition for a reading of ancient history and its cultural-civilizational manifestations. As such, it makes mention of cities—such as Tanis, Atrib, and others—which no longer appear on the map due to changes, both cultural and otherwise, that overtook them with the passing of time. In this and other respects as well, the novel rearranges historical centers and peripheries, as it were, in a manner that is at variance with traditional categories. For reasons at once practical and religious, the peasant revolt witnessed by the Nile Delta, or marshlands, took place on the outer margins of Coptic and Islamic history. However, the novel places it center stage in the scheme of historical events, viewing it as the most significant link in the evolution of Egypt’s cultural-civilizational history. After all, from the time when the uprising was quelled, it was the Arab culture and language that came to give the country its predominant direction and hue.
The effort required to translate this novel owes not only to the difficulty of the text on the linguistic plane—given the fact that it was written for the most part in Arabic with a Coptic tint, which called for adherence to the spirit of this language throughout in an attempt to embody it in the English rendition. Rather, it owes likewise to the process of academic inquiry into the huge store of information contained in the novel having to do with histories, cultures, and civilizations extending over the region in which the novel’s events are set. It is my hope that this sincere effort will speak well for me in the event that there are slips or errors in the text that escaped my notice.
Salwa Bakr
Cairo, November 2006

* Fahmi Huwaydi, al-Ahram , November 10, 1998.

Part I
I was still kneading the dough for the Eucharist bread, working on getting it just right, with the intention of leaving it after that to rise. I had washed the earthenware kneading bowl in ritually pure water, as well as the lid and the sieve. The priest was standing over me, reciting the Psalms and making the sign of the cross. As he came to the psalm of praise and began to chant, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the lands! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into His presence with singing!” and as I was carefully kneading and shaping the dough to make sure it turned out the proper consistency, Thawna the deacon came up to us hurriedly, then stood beside us in a calm, respectful silence. When the priest had finished his recitation, I covered the dough with the lid that I had purified along with the mat, the sieve, and the stamps for the Eucharist bread. Then, as I was about to head for the furnace, which I had heated in preparation for the baking with hard charcoal in keeping with ceremonial regulations, Thawna approached me and whispered in my ear, “Budayr, finish your work quickly, then go see Father Joseph right away.”
This took place one day in the month of Paona, which many lay people still pronounce Pa’wni as in the ancient pagan tongue, and the year was AM 506, or perhaps 507.
I quickly cleaned off the dough that clung to my hands and forearms by washing them in some water from the large clay jar used for ablutions. Before long my skin had become visible again and one could see the lion tattoo with its bluish tint on the inner side of my right forearm. Assured that no one had noticed it, I rolled down the sleeves of my clerical robe, then ran out toward Father Joseph’s residence on the opposite side of the church courtyard. I climbed the three basalt steps that had recently been laid in place of the old limestone ones. They had been presented as a gift by an upstanding servant of the church from Hermopolis, who had removed them from an ancient temple ruin in the old city, then brought them all the way here on his two donkeys in faithfulness to a vow he had made to himself. As I reached the top of the stairs I entered the eastern corridor, at the end of which His Eminence’s lodgings were located. When I arrived, I found him in a meeting with the priest, the archdeacon, and all of the other deacons, including Thawna, the one who had summoned me. Awed, I delivered the appropriate ceremonial greeting, then quickly lowered my head in reverence for all these distinguished ecclesiastical personages. I remained standing at the door without saying a word. Father Joseph looked at me pensively for a moment or two as though he were undecided regarding something that had to do with me. However, it was not long before he raised his hand, in which he held a crucifix, and made the sign of the cross.
Speaking in clear Bashmouri Coptic, he said to me, “Budayr, good-hearted servant, the Lord has chosen you for a sacred ecclesiastical mission. You must carry it out with sincerity and loyalty in the