By AYAKO KARINO,
Asahi Shimbun News Service
Ammar Abdulhamid's daring
debut novel "Menstruation," which examines the issues of sexuality and repression, has
been banned in the author's conservative Muslim homeland.
Syrian writer Ammar
Abdulhamid has come a long way to publish his first novel, the provocatively titled
"Menstruation." It was only through his journey into various aspects of Islamic
fundamentalism and his struggles to come to terms with his own identity and religious
beliefs that he was able to write his daring debut, which explores in depth the
contemporary issues of sexuality, self-awareness and repression within the conservative
religious framework of Syria.
The novel, originally
written in English and published by British publishing house
Saqi Books last year, has
been translated into six languages including Japanese, but its controversial content means
it cannot be published in Arabic for readers in Ammar's home country.
"These kinds of issues are very difficult to accept in Syria," the writer
said in an interview during a recent visit to Japan.
"But for me, writing is a therapeutic process, a way of coping with
reality," he said. "When I was disillusioned with Islamic fundamentalism, I
became so depressed that I thought I would commit suicide. It was at that
moment that I started writing. It saved my life."
"Menstruation" is in many
ways a portrayal of how Ammar came to realize his doubts about and frustration with
religion and traditional Syrian life, told through the eyes of contemporary Syrian young
people. The story is narrated on various levels, including through the eyes of Hasan, a
local imam's son who has a strange ability to tell when a woman is menstruating by her
smell, and Wisam, who is unhappily married to a domineering man. Both are frustrated and
repressed in their conservative lives until they enter into sexual encounters that
irreversibly transform them-Hasan has an affair with a married woman, while Wisam has her
first lesbian relationship. Their liberation shakes their previously held notions of
religion and sexuality forever, and with the help of progressive intellectuals Nadim and
Kindah, the two start to form a whole new outlook on life.
Given the cultured and
religiously mixed environment in which Ammar was brought up in traditional and sectarian
Syria, it is little wonder the 36-year-old writer started questioning his religious
identity. In particular, he was influenced on many levels by his unconventional, artistic
family-his mother is one of Syria's best known movie stars and his father is a prolific
film director. According to Ammar, the whole issue of religion was very malleable and
flexible in his family.
"I was sent to a Catholic boarding school when I was 3, but adopted Islam
when I was 7," he said. "This change created no difficulties whatsoever."
It was in 1983, when the
then 17-year-old Ammar arrived in Britain-his first visit to a Western country-that he
began to focus on his religious identity and its influence on him.
"I felt a strong repulsion toward the emphasis on masculinity and machismo
in the West. It seemed as though everyone was wearing masculinity on their
sleeves. Why couldn't things be more natural?" said Ammar, who was in
Britain to study.
But his long-cherished dream
was to become an astronomer, so he left Britain and moved to Moscow the following year to
pursue his goal. However, eight months was all Ammar lasted under the restrictive Soviet
system.
"Soviet reality killed my dream. I just couldn't cope with the Soviet way of
life," he said. "I had to be accountable at all times. It was like living
with `Big Brother' from George Orwell's `1984.'"
Having lost his dream and
grown frustrated at being unable to settle in either country, Ammar turned to religion,
and one month later became a fundamentalist. He went to the United States in 1986 and
enrolled at the University of Wisconsin, where he studied for a bachelor's degree in
history while educating himself to be an imam.
It was while studying
Islamic law that Ammar came across the Koran's teachings on menstruation and female
hygiene, which he later adopted in his novel.
"I was shocked to find that
for more than 1,400 years, menstruation has been regarded as an impure and dirty thing,
when it's supposed to be a sign of life," he explained.
"Women are not allowed to pray or fast in a ritual manner, and men avoid
eating from the same bowl as their wives when their wives are menstruating.
Some men in religious families even check their wives' tampons to make sure.
Can you believe that?"
It was the many such
unexpected discoveries Ammar made that saw him gradually lose his faith in Islam. The last
straw was the Salman Rushdie affair in 1989, in which Iran's Islamic government declared
the Indian writer's novel "The Satanic Verses" blasphemous for criticizing Mohammed and
issued a death order, or fatwa, against him.
"A death sentence! I just couldn't digest the idea that a man should be
killed because he disagreed with certain beliefs," Ammar said. The incident
ultimately made Ammar turn his back on fundamentalism, as he realized he was
wasting his time, he said.
"But it was very hard to accept the truth at first," he explained. "I
thought of killing myself I was so dispirited, but I found my way out by
writing my thoughts down on paper."
Looking back on his intensely religious period now, Ammar admits he was
searching for the answers to certain universal questions. "But I don't need
them anymore because I'm secure with myself, capable of loving and being
loved. It took a long time to discover the single truth."
Ammar regards himself as an
atheist now, finding both Mohammed and Jesus mere psychological archetypes. He said he has
learned the importance of drawing one's own conclusions through raw experience.
"After all, it's the only way we can find any wisdom. And it's necessary
that we be open to differences, especially cultural differences, because
we're all interrelated in this small world now."
Ammar believes the global
change effected by contemporary Western civilization has created a clash between tradition
and modernization, ultimately bringing similar identity crises to many people around the
world. He stresses the need to listen to the grievances of people worldwide to find a
suitable solution that leaves no country on the sidelines.
"No country must play God, for as long as there's a God, there will always
be a devil," he said. "This is what the majority of Arab people feel right
now-that the Americans are playing God, and that Western civilization was
taking advantage of their misery until finally, late last year, people were
willing to ram airplanes into the World Trade Center in New York."
"It's when a county feels powerful and victorious enough to crush the
smallest rebellion that trouble always starts."
Ammar has now returned to
Syria, which he describes as the place where all his inspirations lie. There he intends to
continue creating dialogue through Etana Press, a small publishing company he recently
established in Damascus. He said he plans to hold seminars and publish books that will
generate dialogue in an environment that still needs to be enlightened.
"It's so
often the case that Syrian people are open only on a superficial level,"
Ammar said. "For example, take women who've removed their veils and wear
bikinis instead. They want Western privileges-to be free and independent-but
they still want to be proposed to in a traditional way like Eastern women.
They're not eager to sacrifice anything on either side, you see."
Although Ammar cannot
publish his work in Syria because of the country's strict censorship laws, he plans to
release it in Arabic on the Internet in the near future. Even the English publishing house
that published "Menstruation" had to remove the final chapter of the book-which featured
characters talking frankly about religious taboos-for fear of provoking fundamentalists.
"So there's bound to be a lot of rejection from people at
home when it comes out on the Internet in Arabic," Ammar said. "There will
probably be more shouting than dialogue. But I hope the book will suggest a
rational way for dialogue between those who follow a religion and those who
don't."
(IHT/Asahi:
April 7,2002)