What may not be so obvious to English readers is that al-Koni’s world of nomads is not necessarily a familiar one to most Arab readers. The Arabic novel has always been dominated by stories of the city, although peasant communities of the settled agricultural lands of the Arab world have had their place in the canon as well. Aside from the work of novelists such as Abdelrahman Munif and Miral al-Tahawy, the nomadic segment of Arab society—once so economically and politically significant that it inspired Ibn Khaldun’s classic—has been largely absent from the Arab novelistic imagination.
Though noteworthy, this fact is not altogether surprising—for the historical rise of the novel as an art form is directly linked with the marginalization of nomadic pastoralism as a key component of Arab civilization. The very industrial era that enabled the one made the other obsolete. With labor performed by ever-increasing masses of men interacting with ever more powerful machines, human reliance on laboring beasts dwindled. In many parts of the world, nomadic pastoralists—such as the Tuareg of the Sahara or the Bedouin of Arabia—were the ones who used to supply sedentary societies with the animal-power that made things run. The plowing of fields, the milling of grain, the shipping of goods across vast continents—these were all ventures undertaken by men and animals laboring together. With the rise of the factory—and with it, the tractor, the train, and the car—men abandoned the society of animals for engines of their own making, and the age-old need for pastoralists came to an end. Ever since, we have only continued to cut our ties with the world of herdsmen. In the process we have cut ourselves off from what they knew, and their recognition that animals are more than just objects to be looked at, shorn, and eaten. Gold Dust appears in this light as a protest against the modern abandonment and objectification of animals, and an affirmation of the relationship between man and beast as one of interdependence, mutual recognition, and soul.
Since al-Koni’s work is so rooted in a particular world, translation is often not so much an act of finding equivalences as of tearing something from its sense. It is not just that his Arabic reads more like poetry than prose, with rhythms and resonances that have no correspondences outside the language. It is also that some of the references have little meaning beyond their original context. To this end, in the original Arabic, the author has himself inserted a number of footnotes to explain Tamasheq (Tuareg) words and customs, pre-Islamic pagan cosmology, and classical Sufism. Rather than burden the text with footnotes, some of his notes reappear here below (in summarized or expanded form) along with a short list of English-language sources recommended for readers interested in understanding better the ground from which this translation was uprooted.
The concept of nobility—as it relates to men and animals alike—is central for understanding certain aspects of this novel. Yet its nuances are not easily translated into societies that organize themselves around egalitarian values. Critical to the concept is, of course, the idea that some virtues are inherited by birth. Of equal importance, however, is the understanding that nobility is a character trait whose weight rests on a system of social recognition. Though one may be born noble, nobility itself is confirmed by certain features of one’s behavior—self-control and generosity being paramount. A failure of noble creatures—man or beast—to behave nobly not only points to a deviation from their natural selves but also their social role—and thus poses a threat to the social order itself.
These dynamics infuse al-Koni’s representation of Tuareg society, which is stratified, but also held together, by an intricate, hierarchical arrangement of classes—nobles, vassals, smiths, and African slaves.1 Arguably, Ukhayyad’s ambivalence about his own noble status marks the beginning of his exit from this class system—that is, from Tuareg society itself. Similarly, the noble character of the piebald is significant—as is the fact that his heedless behavior undoes the outward marks of his breeding. The term Mahri refers to a stock of thoroughbred camels said to date back to a fabled Omani race of noble steeds. While ‘thoroughbred’ and ‘noble’ capture some of the characteristics of the original Arabic words, the novel assumes that readers will readily recognize a difference of character between purebred and regular mounts—a distinction admittedly lost on many of us for whom all camels are equally extraordinary.2
The tagolmost—a uniquely Tuareg headdress consisting of an indigo blue turban and veil—is also ubiquitous in the novel and has its own function in the expression of nobility. As anthropologists have noted, this veil is worn by Tuareg men (not women) and has its roots neither in religious custom nor in mere practicality as a form of protection against harsh desert elements. Rather, its meaning is richly social—and is expressively manipulated to conceal (or reveal) emotion and intimacy in relationships.3
As he does in his other novels, al-Koni alludes to Libyan prehistory and antiquity in provocative ways—most explicitly here in Chapter 29, when Ukhayyad encounters the petroglyphs depicting the hunt. Indeed, the Tadrart Acacus petroglyphs in Libya stand at the center of al-Koni’s fictional world. Some of this rock art dates as far back as 12,000 BCE and depicts lush scenes of the flora and fauna—including giraffes, hippopotami, and elephants—of the region before its desertification in ancient times.4
Al-Koni is also sharply attuned to the pagan prehistory (or co-history) of the nominally Muslim Sahara. The orthodox, the heathen, the superstitious, and the heretical all coexist in this world. In Gold Dust, it is the appearance of Tanit, as well as the various references to magic, spell-casting, and dream interpretation, that signal this most explicitly. Tanit (also known as Tanith and Tanis) was the Phoenician lunar goddess (and patron of Carthage) also revered by the indigenous Berber peoples of North Africa. A consort of Baal, she was goddess of war, motherhood, and fertility—and associated both with the Ugaritic goddess Anat and the Phoenician goddess Astarte. Among her symbols was the isosceles triangle, which recent scholarship has associated with particular designs of modern Tuareg art.5 The appearance of the moufflon, or Barbary sheep, also has resonances within pagan pre-history, for the wild animal had a totemic, noble significance in pre-Islamic Berber North Africa.
The long-extinct silphium (of the genus ferula) was an herb known since the time of the Greek colonization of Libya and used in Roman cooking. Thought to be a form of giant fennel, the herb was prized for its savory taste, and also as an abortofacient. In any case, so valuable was the herb that it figured on coins in Roman Libya. Silphium achieved a near mythical status in antiquity when, either due to overharvesting or climate change, it disappeared from the narrow strip of Cyrenaica where it grew.
Finally, a word about two of the Sufi references in Gold Dust. At more than one point in the novel, Ukhayyad finds himself hanging between life and death. In the original, al-Koni often uses the Arabic word barzakh to describe this liminal space. While commonly translated as ‘obstacle,’ or ‘separation,’ this Qur’anic word has rich resonances—referring to the interval separating this world from the hereafter, or heaven from hell. For Sufis, its meaning is broader, referring to a point between light and darkness, spirit and matter, the animate and the inanimate. This space is not purgatory in the Christian sense, but the realm that the spirit passes through as it transcends bodily form.6
The novel’s references to the lote tree are also replete with Islamic and specifically Sufi undertones. In the Qur’an there is mention of “the lote tree of the farthest reaches” (sidrat almuntaha). According to tradition, this tree marked the farthest point to which the Prophet Muhammad traveled during his ascension to heaven—it stands at the very boundary of existence, beyond which no one can pass. With enormous leaves and fruit, the lote tree stands at the edge of heaven itself, and under it flow the four rivers of paradise. For Sufis, the metaphor of the lote tree marks the point at which the mystical seeker moves beyond human guidance and into the realm of experience itself.
I would like to thank the author and Nadia Mahdi for their help in preparing the translation.
Notes
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nbsp; 1. See Jeremy Keenan’s ethnography of the Tuareg of Algeria, The Tuareg: People of Ahaggar (London: Sickle Moon, 2002).
2. For more information about the history and mechanics of camel herding, nomadism, and camel saddlery, see Richard W. Bulliet’s classic, The Camel and the Wheel (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1975).
3. See Susan Rasmussen, “Veiled Self, Transparent Meanings: Tuareg Headdress as Social Expression,” Ethnology 30, no. 2 (1991): 101–17.
4. Despite its manifest faults, the best-known popular work on the rock art of the Sahara remains Henri Lhote’s Tassili Frescoes: The Rock Paintings of the Sahara (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1959). For a detailed exposition of the problems and frauds of Lhote’s work, see: Jeremy Keenan, The Lesser Gods of the Sahara (London: Frank Cass, 2004), 193–225.
5. See Thomas Seligman and Kristyne Loughran, eds., Art of Being Tuareg: Sahara Nomads in a Modern World (Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum, 2006).
6. In this novel, as elsewhere, al-Koni evokes the work of Muhammad al-Niffari, an early figure of Islamic mysticism. See al-Niffari’s work on the liminal points between various points of being, The Mawaqif and Mukhatabat, trans. A.J. Arberry (London: Cambridge University Press, 1935).
Modern Arabic Literature
from the American University in Cairo Press
Ibrahim Abdel Meguid Birds of Amber • Distant Train
No One Sleeps in Alexandria • The Other Place
Yahya Taher Abdullah The Collar and the Bracelet
The Mountain of Green Tea
Leila Abouzeid The Last Chapter
Hamdi Abu Golayyel Thieves in Retirement
Yusuf Abu Rayya Wedding Night
Ahmed Alaidy Being Abbas el Abd
Idris Ali Dongola: A Novel of Nubia • Poor
Ibrahim Aslan The Heron • Nile Sparrows
Alaa Al Aswany Chicago • Friendly Fire • The Yacoubian Building
Fadhil al-Azzawi Cell Block Five • The Last of the Angels
Hala El Badry A Certain Woman • Muntaha
Salwa Bakr The Golden Chariot • The Man from Bashmour
The Wiles of Men
Halim Barakat The Crane
Hoda Barakat Disciples of Passion • The Tiller of Waters
Mourid Barghouti I Saw Ramallah
Mohamed El-Bisatie Clamor of the Lake • Houses Behind the Trees • Hunger
A Last Glass of Tea • Over the Bridge
Mansoura Ez Eldin Maryam’s Maze
Ibrahim Farghali The Smiles of the Saints
Hamdy el-Gazzar Black Magic
Tawfiq al-Hakim The Essential Tawfiq al-Hakim
Abdelilah Hamdouchi The Final Bet
Fathy Ghanem The Man Who Lost His Shadow
Randa Ghazy Dreaming of Palestine
Gamal al-Ghitani Pyramid Texts • Zayni Barakat
Yahya Hakki The Lamp of Umm Hashim
Bensalem Himmich The Polymath • The Theocrat
Taha Hussein The Days • A Man of Letters • The Sufferers
Sonallah Ibrahim Cairo: From Edge to Edge • The Committee • Zaat
Yusuf Idris City of Love and Ashes
Denys Johnson-Davies The AUC Press Book of Modern Arabic Literature
Under the Naked Sky: Short Stories from the Arab World
Said al-Kafrawi The Hill of Gypsies
Sahar Khalifeh The End of Spring
The Image, the Icon, and the Covenant • The Inheritance
Edwar al-Kharrat Rama and the Dragon • Stones of Bobello
Betool Khedairi Absent
Mohammed Khudayyir Basrayatha: Portrait of a City
Ibrahim al-Koni Anubis • Gold Dust
Naguib Mahfouz Adrift on the Nile • Akhenaten: Dweller in Truth
Arabian Nights and Days • Autumn Quail • The Beggar
The Beginning and the End • Cairo Modern
The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street
Children of the Alley • The Day the Leader Was Killed
The Dreams • Dreams of Departure • Echoes of an Autobiography
The Harafish • The Journey of Ibn Fattouma
Karnak Café • Khufu’s Wisdom • Life’s Wisdom • Midaq Alley • Miramar
Mirrors • Morning and Evening Talk • Naguib Mahfouz at Sidi Gaber
Respected Sir • Rhadopis of Nubia • The Search
The Seventh Heaven • Thebes at War • The Thief and the Dogs
The Time and the Place • Voices from the Other World • Wedding Song
Mohamed Makhzangi Memories of a Meltdown
Alia Mamdouh Naphtalene • The Loved Ones
Selim Matar The Woman of the Flask
Ibrahim al-Mazini Ten Again
Yousef Al-Mohaimeed Wolves of the Crescent Moon
Ahlam Mosteghanemi Chaos of the Senses • Memory in the Flesh
Buthaina Al Nasiri Final Night
Ibrahim Nasrallah Inside the Night
Haggag Hassan Oddoul Nights of Musk
Abd al-Hakim Qasim Rites of Assent
Somaya Ramadan Leaves of Narcissus
Lenin El-Ramly In Plain Arabic
Ghada Samman The Night of the First Billion
Rafik Schami Damascus Nights
Khairy Shalaby The Lodging House
Miral al-Tahawy Blue Aubergine • The Tent
Bahaa Taher Love in Exile
Fuad al-Takarli The Long Way Back
Latifa al-Zayyat The Open Door
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Translator’s Afterword
Notes
Gold Dust (Modern Arabic Literature) Page 12
