Wisdom cloaked in mystery

The New Oasis

Ibrahim Al Koni

Translated by William M. Hutchins

Cairo/New York: The American University in Cairo Press, 2014

Pp. 155

All six of Ibrahim Al Koni’s novels translated into English so far attest to his exceptional writing ability. Yet, “The New Oasis” seems particularly outstanding for its beautiful, lyrical prose. The text flows so smoothly that one is literally mesmerised by exquisite descriptions of the natural world of the Tuareq nomads in North Africa. Where casual observers might find only a barren landscape, Koni reveals the nuanced textures of the desert, from sweeping expanses of sand and rock to microenvironments containing surprisingly delicate flora and fauna, and shades of colour.

Equally powerful are the descriptions of the nomads’ culture and philosophy, and how they seamlessly move from the material world into a spiritual realm where much remains unspoken, but is nonetheless revealed in words by Koni’s pen. His is a writing style that matches his subject matter, revealing that both the landscapes and the people of the desert are far more complex than meets the eye; still, much remains mysterious. William M. Hutchins’ smooth translation skilfully captures both the originality and fluidity of Koni’s prose.

Nomadic life is sometimes viewed as the greatest freedom, but this story follows a tribe that is being boxed in by paradoxes and dilemmas — some caused by nature, others by neighbouring tribes or visitors, and still others by the nomads trying to adhere to their own ancient laws, which are subject to interpretation by the leader and his diviners.

One interpretation is that nomads are birds or, conversely, birds are winged people. “It is said that the diviners pursue the flocks of birds to discover the enigmatic secret the Spirit World has encoded in their behaviour, songs, and flight.” (p. 3)

While the birds migrate to the unknown, the nomads migrate in search of Waw, the lost oasis celebrated in Tuareq mythology, usually found only by those who are not looking for it. This paradox, and the tension between wandering and settling down, persists throughout the novel. 

When their leader dies, the tribe chooses the person dictated by “the Law”, but he is a poet who only reluctantly assumes the post, for it means isolating himself and giving up his lover, also a poet. Having a hesitant leader is perilous in an environment where group belonging is all important. It opens up uncertainty about the tribe’s very identity and mission. “Fear of becoming lost, dread of the labyrinth, motivates each bird in the tribe to cling to the tribe’s sign, its watchword, its melody. So each bird repeats its tribe’s song after the leader.” (p. 5)

Early on in the novel, one detects that Koni is not just spinning an arcane tale but honing in on existential questions that have persisted throughout human history. To hint at such connotations, each chapter begins with a quote from a famous writer or thinker — ranging from William Faulkner to Chinese philosophers, which speaks to the novel’s themes though originating in a totally different context. 

When the new leader “dies” and the tribe settles around his tomb, they are plagued by drought; debate erupts about the cause. Are they being punished for abandoning the nomadic life, for engaging in trade, dealing in the forbidden metal, gold dust, or working it into jewellery? One faction of the sages advises against quick, easy answers and insists “on searching for the real truth in another place… because celestial wisdom comes cloaked in mystery”. (p. 99)

In fact, the most serious search for truth is the dialogue between the “dead” leader and his chief diviner as they make a moonlight journey into another part the desert. Significantly, their communication is silent.

Much of the text, in fact, implicitly questions the value of speech and the meaning of words. This might seem ironic for a writer who has penned over 70 books in Arabic — a language he didn’t learn until 12 when he left his remote desert place of birth to attend a regular Libyan school, but this apparent downgrading of speech has several explanations.

On one level, it connects to Tuareq culture where men are veiled, especially their mouths, which are referred to as ugly in the novel. More significantly, it is part of Koni’s exploration of paradoxes and dialectics, playing on opposites that merge and separate again. In moving between multiple layers of meaning, from literal to symbolic, he is questioning received wisdom and searching for deeper truths that might apply to human civilisation at all times and places.