AMMAN — When we talk about women writers, we often emphasise their unique perspectives and the diverse experiences that shape their narratives. One notable Jordanian-British writer who exemplifies this is Fadia Faqir. 

Faqir explores issues related to the lives of marginalised women, migration, and cultural in-betweenness in her work. 

Her upbringing in Jordan significantly shaped her worldview and inspired her writing. Her mother was Circassian, and her father was Jordanian Bedouin, with her father being an urban resident of Amman and her mother deeply appreciating Bedouin culture. 

Faqir attended what may have been one of the last storytelling sessions of her upbringing, punctuated by the music of the rabab, a string instrument played by Bedouins.

 

Faqir recalled sitting in her hometown of Umm al Basateen with family and relatives under the moonlight, around the campfire, listening to the stories unfold along with music. 

For Faqir, that was a magical experience. 

Her novels are partly an effort to document the beauty of her home country, Jordan, along with her wonderful childhood.

 “Living with Bedouin women. I saw how strong they are, how hardworking and how badly treated sometimes, especially when it comes to their inheritance rights,” she in an interview with The Jordan Times. 

 “Watching them head to the hills, come back with kindles and dry sticks tied to their heads, toil in the farm, cook for the family and take care of the animals was inspiring. My main character Maha in Pillars of Salt was born out of that.”

Released in 1996, Faqir's novel "Pillars of Salt" is a story of two women confined to a mental hospital in Jordan during and after the British Mandate. Maha, a peasant woman from the Jordan Valley, and Um Saad from Amman find themselves sharing a room. After initial tension they become friends and exchange their life stories.

When Faqir was about thirteen, she kept a notebook called, “Characters in My Life”, in which she described the physical appearances of people she had met. 

That is when she realised she wanted to become a writer

Later on, she became a freelance reporter for the Jerusalem Star, and through her writing for the paper, she discovered the power and magic of words. 

At the University of Jordan, Faqir studied many authors, from Shakespeare to Eliot and Flaubert. She read widely, but some books made her stop and think. Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” is a powerful indictment of the evils of imperialism, reflecting the savage repressions carried out in the Congo by the Belgians in one of the largest acts of genocide committed up to that time. 

At the end of the story, Conrad’s narrator encounters a man named Kurtz, who is dying, insane, and guilty of unspeakable atrocities. 

The line “the horror, the horror” pointed towards a way in and out. For Faqir, it was a not call to arms, but to writing.

Faqir has a master's degree in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and in 1990 she was awarded by the University of East Anglia her first PhD in Creative and Critical Writing.

Faqir's trans-cultural position is reflected in the intricate process through which her writing is composed and through her endless attempts to carve a small territory within the English language for herself. 

Behind the all-embracing problems of creative duplicity from a post-colonial perspective emerges her struggle to comprehend an alien world and cope with the profound consequences of living a bicultural identity.

Additionally, although the language that chose her is English, her sensibility is Arab. 

Within the confines and aesthetics of the English language, she strives to create a novel that is ‘Arab’ in its aspirations and preoccupations. Faqir even attempts to stretch the English language and adapt it to a content that is culturally and civilizationally different.

Faqir often addresses themes of exile, displacement, and women's struggles which stem from her own personal experiences. 

 “I left Jordan in 1984 and lived in self-imposed exile since,” she noted. 

Exile is a sad country for her, marked by a rift between the rural image of her homeland and the western city. It severs ties to home, childhood, and a sense of belonging. 

 

“Nostalgia becomes a form of loyalty to the house in Amman, the garden with its tall palm trees, and the past.”

Like many other immigrants and exiles Faqir survives by taking shelter in the house of writing and songs. 

The role of literature in challenging social and political norms, especially regarding gender in the Middle East is highlighted through her writings. 

“Israel through some of its literature, and propaganda promoted a narrative that dehumanises Palestinians for decades, which paved the way for its ethnic cleansing of Palestinians and genocide in Gaza.” 

“That is why many writers and journalists were assassinated there. It is crucial to condemn this and work hard to reclaim the narrative. One important step is teaching the younger generation to write,” Faqir explained. 

On a gender level, Faqir stressed that there exists a dominant patriarchal narrative in which women are barely visible. Much of Arabic literature reflects this, with a few honourable exceptions, like the work of the late Syrian author Khalid Khalifa. 

Faqir sees her role, along with that of other Arab women writers, as disruptors of this male narrative, creating alternative stories where women are fully developed characters and their experiences take centre stage.

As for the novel that holds a special place in Faqir’s heart, "My Name is Salma" stands out because it addresses the important question of women's value as citizens and their rights in Jordan. 

It explores the constraints of the human condition, migration, and racism, presented in a lyrical and disjointed form, punctuated by detailed descriptions of daily life.

Encompassing a 16-year time span, the novel randomly switches between scenes from Salma’s life with her Bedouin family, her years of protective custody, her flight to a monastery, and her journey to asylum in England. These moments are interspersed with episodes from her life in Exeter as she attempts to find work, educate herself, and establish a foothold in an alien environment. 

The disjointed narrative reflects Salma’s tortured self, seen exclusively from her point of view, illustrating her inextricable links to her past.

The aim is to prevent the reader from feeling any sense of smooth progression toward a resolution. Constantly, they are torn, like Salma, between a brutal past, an alien Britain with its own cruelties, and the bonds of motherhood, family, and culture.

As for new projects that Faqir is exploring, she started writing a novel with the working title "Hala’s Baklava," told from the perspective of a young refugee in Paris. This project is proving to be quite challenging,  although she is familiar with Paris, the research required is extensive.

To young aspiring writers, Faqir advises: “Read, write, just write to start with, then edit, get yourself a literary agent if you can. Be true to yourself and your culture and do not cater to an audience.”

“The more sincere and the closer you are to your indigenous culture the more unique your writing would be,” she underlined. 

Faqir stated that to achieve universality, one needs to move inward toward the self and embrace the local and culturally unique. 

Faqir emphasised the importance of getting closer to one's own voice and having faith, noting that good writing ultimately triumphs and finds its own platform.