“My Mother is a Tree”—a story by Aliyeh Ataei

Anna Motrych, "Mother Earth Knows," "Mother Earth knows," 56x42cm, watercolor on paper, 2022 (courtesy Art Majeur).

2 JULY 2023 • By Aliyeh Ataei, Siavash Saadlou
A young woman who grew up along the borders of Iran and Afghanistan peels away layers, exploring herself as a writer.

 

Aliyeh Ataei

Translated from Persian by Siavash Saadlou


And when you’re packing your bags,
Nothing is lighter than love.—Abdellatif Laabi

 


 

Starlings fly in flocks. When migrating in the fall, they form captivating curves and awe-inspiring arcs in the sky. If you ever happen to spot them at the time of migration, you’ll see a black flight of birds producing sublime pictures in the sky, their movement no different than that of the stroke of a paintbrush. Starlings follow patterns in nature; no one knows what kind of coordination conjures their beautiful canvases in the sky. Is there, for example, a starling leading the way, or does such supreme discipline happen on its own? It looks like starlings are the most enchantingly rootless creatures when it comes to migration.

 

“You’re not a tree stuck into the ground,” my dad used to say. “Fly yourself to America and then do whatever the heck you want.” I haven’t been to America, but I’m in Paris. Follow the story from here: I have brought with me a few small objects, and I’m looking for objects other people have packed up in their suitcases and backpacks before leaving their home country. Today, I’m thinking my dad was dealing in bad faith by likening me to a free bird. Just as he would speak casually of my not being a tree, it never occurred to him that he was planting the idea of being “rootless” in my head. I’m not writing this as someone angry and away from her home; you must have noticed that we never nurse a grudge against those of our loved ones who are no longer in this world.

When I opened my suitcase, I realized that every item I could do without had some kind of a love story behind it, and my father surely had no idea about the trials and tribulations I would have to carry on my wings — too many for me to want to lighten my cumbersome suitcase by chucking out a few tiny objects. My heavy suitcase became bearable, thanks to small, inessential items. I discovered that other suitcases scaled at the airport must also be housing small pieces that stand for the ethereality of existence. Therefore, I invite you to read about love in the following vignettes. Love doesn’t always bode well or end well; I’m letting you know in advance that there are no Bollywood-type love stories here. Humans carry love — sometimes like a scar, other times like a mark of stigma on their foreheads. So, pore over the stories of these people who are far from us yet so close, their remoteness resting on geography and their closeness captured in the tiny pieces stowed in our suitcases, harkening back to happiness.

 


 

Umbrella: The Filipino family lives in the suburbs of Paris, not where there is a predominantly Muslim population, but a neighborhood reserved for East Asians in the northeastern arrondissement. With the elder daughter in the family threatened by the father, the mother and her two girls, aged 15 and 10, fled the Philippines. The family has, in effect, brought nothing with them except an umbrella in the elder daughter’s care.

The apartment is approximately 430 square feet and is located on the fifth floor of a jerry-built, defaced building whose façade I’m taken aback by when I compare it to other French houses. It looks as if this is a suburb of Pakdasht[1] where they would put together cheapjack and gaudy materials to make a so-called “house.” As soon as I enter, I am repulsed by the stench from the drains — I tell myself, That’s Paris for you. When the door opens, it’s as though I’ve set foot in a local market. A straw basket and a multi-colored plastic hamper hang from the entrance corridor’s ceiling. The living room is lit with a few blinking lights like the ones you’d find at a cheap bar. The furniture is dilapidated but dirt-free, with a diamond-shaped table where short and tall candles sit, as if this were a saqqakhana[2] or a tiny mihrab[3]The family’s mother is plump and agreeable. As soon as I’m in, she grabs my hand and takes me to the girls’ room as if trying to convince a social worker from the immigration office that everything is hunky-dory.

The girls’ room has an aura of gimcrack pomp and pageantry, but that has taken some doing, too. The pink-and-red bedsheets have been washed so strenuously that the scent of detergents is wafting in the air, making it feel like they’d made the beds just two minutes earlier. Right off the bat, I go to my question: “What have you brought with you?”

“An umbrella,” says the younger daughter.

“I was the one who brought it,” says her older sister.

The umbrella is sitting by the lampshade on a small desk flanked by the girls’ beds; it’s a nondescript plastic umbrella with no colors, patterns, or special features — a colorless plastic bag with a gray plastic handle. The mother says that her husband wanted to sell their daughter to a German guy when she was eleven. I’m not sure if this is right or wrong, but I think to myself that someone from Germany wouldn’t, in principle, want to buy a girl. It’s not my place to ascertain the veracity of the information; after all, France has agreed that the girl must have been in danger. The younger daughter insists that the umbrella belongs to her, too, and the older daughter, with the archetypal angst of a fifteen-year-old, retorts that her dad “bought this for me.”

Under the light of the lampshade, the umbrella looks like a glassy and opaque ceiling that hasn’t been immune to the mud and mire of the rain. It is covered in yellow stains everywhere, stains that grow more pronounced under the lampshade’s light. I ask for permission to pick up the umbrella. The younger daughter points at the handle to signal that it is broken and that I should keep my hands off the umbrella. She stands in front of it like a custodian. I don’t touch the umbrella, of course. I record the rest of the story as a voice file for myself. When I leave their apartment, I look up and see the younger daughter holding the umbrella above her head while standing by the window. She swirls the handle and holds it above her head while facing the window — it’s as if she is making the umbrella dance and dancing with it at the same time. Well, it turns out the handle is not broken. I wave to her from where I’m standing and send a kiss in her direction. She presses her face against the window and sticks her tongue out. An umbrella is what’s left of the fatherly love of a man intent on selling his own daughter, and the girls know how to carry it around with themselves like a mark of stigma while also loving it. I don’t lose my cool seeing the girl making a face. This, too, is one of the hallmarks of love — only you know the power behind your remaining object and refuse to share it with anyone else.

 


 

Starlings are lightweight and free-spirited. When soaring, they lift their talons off the ground and then spread their wings. In this, they are distinguishable from all other birds. But much like humans, they spread their invisible wings when departing a place. The rule of thumb among these birds is that they travel light and unencumbered. There have been no reports of starlings ever taking a piece of their summer nest in Stockholm and moving it to South America. Unlike humans. We clutch pieces of ourselves under our arms in various ways before setting off.

 

Brooch: A woman from Nigeria has a brooch and AIDS. Actually, she is HIV positive with a baby in her womb that should have been born by now. The baby is a girl, and the woman’s lover is going to get the brooch to the baby girl that’s inside her tummy, a lover who has been accompanying the woman from midway through her escape.

The woman swears that her brother and his friend are both members of Boko Haram and had plans to kill her after raping her. She managed to flee, with a man joining her. They both got themselves to Europe, first to Italy and eventually to the western shores of France, where they gained entry into the refugee camps. The woman is pregnant, and preliminary tests have confirmed her HIV. I visit her at a special hospital for refugees.

She has a golden brooch that’s chipped in a few places, and cheap iron is visible from under its body. There are three circle-shaped wreaths on the brooch’s pin with alternate rows of colorful faux cameos. The brooch doesn’t hook properly, and the iron is hefty, so much so that it is weighing down the corner of the woman’s jacket. She points at the brooch and says it belongs to her grandmother; it is all she took with her on the night she fled to the Republic of Chad, and now she is constantly worried it might fall off. As we’re talking, she takes off the brooch and places it in her lover’s pocket. She must be afraid once again that the brooch could come off.

“Is the man HIV positive, too?” I ask the insurance officer.

“Not yet,” he says. “It’s not clear when exactly the woman contracted the virus.”

He doesn’t provide any further comments. I have no idea what will become of the baby, but the woman could go into labor any day now. She can hardly sit or stand up. She says the brooch will bring her daughter good luck.

I look at the man’s pocket, at their locked hands, at the luck this 24-year-old girl has had with the brooch: rape and AIDS; Boko Haram; her brother; that the doctor says not all HIV-positive cases are necessarily infected with AIDS, and yet they must err on the side of caution; the couple’s separate rooms at the camp…Love, for this woman, is a brooch, and who else but she knows all too well that she hasn’t actually had a whit of luck in this world?

 


 

Starlings are beautiful from a distance, and in zoomed photos, their bodies look wounded everywhere. Ornithologists suggest that when flying in groups, many starlings aim at each other’s bodies with their beaks to the point that the severity of the wounds leaves many of them dead, their corpses falling to the ground. With a flock numbering a few thousand, no one cares about a hundred starlings lying breathless on waters and drylands.

 

Sugar bowl: This Afghan family lives in La Chapelle. They’re faring well; they’ve been living in France for ten years, and the kids have learned the language at school, with the father working for a public utility company. They say they came to France during the era of the Republic of Afghanistan [4] because it was abundantly clear to them that the Americans didn’t have their best interests at heart.

“And the Europeans do?” I ask.

“They give you everything in their own country but not in Afghanistan,” says the man.

When I ask my usual question, the woman immediately removes a sugar bowl from the wooden drawer shelf above her head. The man’s face tells me the move doesn’t sit well with him.

The woman says she has the sugar bowl from her sister-wife[5], a very fine woman who used to look after her children back in Afghanistan. She says her husband picked up the sugar bowl just before leaving, which is very dear and near to their hearts.

It’s one of those sugar bowls I’ve seen plenty of times: it is Indian and is used in India primarily to keep the spices. This sugar bowl is made of wood and comes in dark green. There is an engraving of a Hindu goddess on the surface, one I can’t recognize. But she is brandishing two crossed swords. The engraving is gilded and shaded with orange, and the sugar bowl itself contains a few raisins.

“Help yourself,” says the woman. “These are from the native land.”

The Afghans have brought their homeland with them to La Chapelle, from all kinds of spices to rice, and from dried fruits to cannabis and opium. The woman is brewing green tea, and I’ve forgotten that their default for “tea” is green; I should’ve emphasized that I cared for black tea. Like hundreds of other memory lapses, I forgive myself for this one, too.

Before we’ve even finished drinking our teas, the man picks up the sugar bowl from the table and puts it away. Most of the people I’ve met until today have done the same with their keepsakes, and ever since coming to Paris, I rarely ask people about the whys and wherefores of things; what difference does it make if the man still loves the other woman or not. What difference does it make to why the other woman and her children haven’t made it to Paris? I know now that people may part ways for all sorts of reasons, and there remain no curiosities except one about the very small pieces that serve as a reminder of happiness. I try to pay attention to details: the slight shaking of the man’s hands when he places the wooden lid on the sugar bowl, the raisins he picks up from before the guest, the glance he steals, and the sorrow I can’t tell is weighing on the heart of the woman or that of the man.

Even if only for the sake of revenge, women know how to act kindly, and men are simply helpless when faced with this womanly game. I don’t continue the discussion. The joyful aftertaste of drinking tea and eating raisins stays with me, and I make a mental note of this moment.

 


 

Scooter: The Iranian girl is seventeen, and she was due to finish her pre-university year back home. She has studied music in vocational school and is living with her aunt in Paris now after having done some time at Evin Prison. She has applied for asylum. You can’t tell how her case will pan out, but she hopes it will fail so she can return to Iran. When she speaks of Valiasr Avenue — at the intersection of Abbas Abaad — it’s as if she’s talking of a place I know nothing about. She says she was arrested there and then spent twelve days in solitary confinement before being released on bail, at which point she traveled overland to Turkey.

She has had the electric scooter since she was five, a gift she received from her maternal uncle, who died five years later in a road accident. We meet at a café, and her aunt shows me a picture of the scooter. “She picked up a backpack and placed this inside it,” says the aunt by way of reproach.

The girl has brought one of a pair of scooting shoes and says, while wearing a winsome smile, “I’ll go back to Iran and bring the other mate as well.”

“The hell you will,” retorts her aunt.

The girl shoots me a wink. “My uncle taught me how to ride the scooter,” she says. “Every time I would fall, he would say, ‘Get up; don’t be afraid.’ That’s why I’m brave.”

“Did you finally learn to ride it?” I ask. “My son wore me out with his and eventually quit trying anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m always riding the scooter,” she says, pointing at the electric scooter across the street. “My uncle knew that the scooter would come in handy someday. He knew everything.”

“What else did he know?” I ask.

She pauses. “He just knew. I wouldn’t have been arrested if I had had my scooter with me that day in Tehran. All the girls in Tehran need a scooter; it doesn’t matter if boys don’t learn how to ride one.”

The aunt shows me a photo of the girl’s scooter on her phone. It’s a Chinese model, a copy of a famous brand, white and pink, and the trace of the girl’s tiny feet betrays her intent to ride fast. When I zoom in on the photo, the worn-away wheels tell me she knows her stuff.

 


 

When starlings arrive somewhere, they remain in hiding for a while and avoid flying in flocks. Apparently, they secure sustenance in smaller groups. Starlings lie low between one flight and the next; photographers and hunters can’t catch them. I imagine they heal each other’s wounds during respite.

 

Chocolate: Mary is a dear friend from Guinea. Thanks to a chance encounter, we became friends at a beauty salon and grew closer with the passage of time. Mary is the only person who knows the story behind my objects and is one of those starlings who can be a source of solace for others. We sit down for hours, speaking in a mishmash of English and French about everything and anything. Mary doesn’t react with surprise when seeing me cry about my love all these years later. She knows better than to say, Are you crazy? Let it go.

She went through genital mutilation at the age of six in her father’s village and was married off when she was way too young. She has a nine-year-old son who is still in Guinea. Her neighbor, who had witnessed the young Mary’s predicament, helped her flee. When Mary was escaping, the neighbor’s husband placed a piece of chocolate in her pocket, telling her to keep it for her son and rest assured that the two would reunite someday.

The chocolate is in the middle pocket of Mary’s purse—a small square-shaped cacao chocolate in a two-by-two-centimeter size wrapped in a transparent plastic cover with a shiny red label around it. “Delicious and flavorful,” the label reads. It probably is a local chocolate from the region Mary comes from. It reminds me of Minoo chocolates that used to be sold in bulk in 1980s Iran, and once I hold the chocolate in my hands, I notice it’s as hard as a stone.

It’s been five years since Mary’s escape, and the chocolate has grown pale at the corners. Having undergone therapy for her scarred childhood, Mary now has a four-year-old daughter from a man she is in love with. Her skin has a gorgeously dark tone, and she provides the most heartening source of light for me these days. I long to see the boy who hasn’t seen his mother for five years, who, Mary herself says, “won’t be, God willing, like his dad.”

Mary’s lovelorn chocolate has made it so that every time I see some kids buying or eating a bar of chocolate, I envision the day when, together with Mary, we’re buying the most delicious chocolate in all of Paris for her curly-haired son while the other chocolate remains in Mary’s purse as a reminder of the night she fled — an entirely different story.

 


 

Perfume: “Women in Morocco flee the country for love.” This was said to me by a Moroccan woman who is a member of the Harratin[6] and is working quite proactively in France nowadays. Based on what I know of the state of women in Morocco, there would be plenty of reasons other than love for them to want to flee their country, but this overzealous woman I came face to face with during a work meeting emphasized that “when love is haram[7], that means that everything is haram — bread, and water, even breathing.”

She removed a small, thin, glassy tube — resembling a fragrance sample — from her small pouch lanyard pocket. A smidgen of a red liquid was visible at its bottom. “I like you,” she said with a smile as she opened the lid, “which is why I’m opening this; otherwise, the perfume is short-lived and will peter out.”

The pungent smell of a perfume I couldn’t identify filled my nose, at which point I glanced at the casing of the tube where no trademark was to be found. It was as if you were buying one of those inferior fragrance samples at a fair, but this particular perfume encapsulated a romantic story for a woman who, in her own words, believed that even discussing the story itself was “haram.”

I thought to myself, what difference does it make where in this world or under what circumstances—this woman is right: when speaking of love as haram, that means that everything is haram. The woman says she will redeem her love and then redeem love for all the women of Morocco. This reminded me of a Maya Angelou quote: “Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.”

I wished her well and returned home with a fragrance that wouldn’t leave my head and a smell that smacked of revenge.

 


 

Despite all the findings on the mass migration of starlings, we mustn’t ignore the individuality of this bird — one whose home is the sky will fly over your dead body with no qualms.

 

Like any other day, I’m sitting at my laptop to make a record of everything. Like any other day, I have tidied up my desk and cleaned it with a cloth. Like any other day, I’m brewing tea, obsessively making sure it will taste as it always does.

I thought of my home in Tehran, the curtain I never set right, the cushions I had purchased with great pickiness from Tehran’s grand bazaar and never managed to place on the sofa, the kitchen sink I didn’t get to clean, the doors and walls and brightly-lit windows, and the doom that ultimately drove me away from that very home. Once drowned in the dark pit of my mind, I went over the small, light objects I had placed around the new apartment and once again saw some light, saw love, feeling its immeasurable ethereality in every cell of my body. I breathed…I breathed faster and faster.

I thought about what it is that starlings really do to heal their wounds. How do they recover from the grave wounds on their wings after falling into a tropical forest, their bodies growing bloodier from the saw-toothed boughs and sharp-edged leaves? I couldn’t tell. I breathed faster and faster, reflecting on my life until the present moment, and arrived at my mother, my mother who is still sitting at her home, my mother who is a tree.

 

[1] A city in the Central District of Pakdasht County, Tehran province, Iran.
[2] The Persian word saqqakhana refers to a public water fountain that commemorates the Shi’i martyrs who had been deprived of water during the battle of Karbala (680 A.D.). It was at Karbala that Imam Husain was slain by the hand of Yazid, the Sunni ruler.
[3] A niche in the wall of a mosque, at the point nearest to Mecca, toward which the congregation faces to pray.
[4] Republic of Afghanistan, otherwise known as the Daoud Republic, was created in July 1973, and disintegrated in April 1978.
[5] (In a polygamous society) any of the women married to the same man.
[6] An ethnic group found in western Sahel and southwestern Maghreb. The Harratin are both culturally and ethnically distinct from modern sub-Saharan Africans and speak Maghrebi Arabic dialects as well as various Berber languages. They have traditionally been characterised as the descendants of former sub-Saharan slaves.
[7] Meaning “forbidden” in Islam.

Aliyeh Ataei

Aliyeh Ataei Aliyeh Ataei is an Iranian-Afghan author and screenwriter whose books have won major literary awards in Iran, including Mehregan-e-Adab for Best Novel. She was born in 1981 in Iran, and grew up in Darmian, a border region situated between the... Read more

Siavash Saadlou

Siavash Saadlou Siavash Saadlou is a Pushcart Prize-nominated writer whose short stories and essays have appeared in Plenitude Magazine, Southeast Review, and Minor Literature[s], among other journals. His poems have been anthologized in Odes to Our Undoing (Risk Press) and Essential Voices: Poetry... Read more

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<em>Love Across Borders</em>—on Romance, Restrictions and Happy Endings
Book Reviews

War Weariness & Absurdity in Jamaluddin Aram’s Debut Novel

15 JANUARY 2024 • By Rudi Heinrich
War Weariness & Absurdity in Jamaluddin Aram’s Debut Novel
Book Reviews

An Iranian Novelist Seeks the Truth About a Plane Crash

15 JANUARY 2024 • By Sepideh Farkhondeh
An Iranian Novelist Seeks the Truth About a Plane Crash
Art & Photography

Cyprus: Return to Petrofani with Ali Cherri & Vicky Pericleous

8 JANUARY 2024 • By Arie Amaya-Akkermans
Cyprus: Return to Petrofani with Ali Cherri & Vicky Pericleous
Beirut

“The Summer They Heard Music”—a short story by MK Harb

3 DECEMBER 2023 • By MK Harb
“The Summer They Heard Music”—a short story by MK Harb
Fiction

“Kabul’s Haikus”—fiction from Maryam Mahjoba

3 DECEMBER 2023 • By Maryam Mahjoba, Zubair Popalzai
“Kabul’s Haikus”—fiction from Maryam Mahjoba
Essays

The Paranda Network—Afghan Women Writing

3 DECEMBER 2023 • By Lillie Razvi
The Paranda Network—Afghan Women Writing
Art & Photography

Iranian Women Photographers: Life, Freedom, Music, Art & Hair

20 NOVEMBER 2023 • By Malu Halasa
Iranian Women Photographers: Life, Freedom, Music, Art & Hair
Books

My Love for Derna: Interview with Libyan Writer Mahbuba Khalifa

13 NOVEMBER 2023 • By Naima Morelli
My Love for Derna: Interview with Libyan Writer Mahbuba Khalifa
Book Reviews

The Refugee Ocean—An Intriguing Premise

30 OCTOBER 2023 • By Natasha Tynes
<em>The Refugee Ocean</em>—An Intriguing Premise
Book Reviews

What We Write About When We (Arabs) Write About Love

23 OCTOBER 2023 • By Eman Quotah
What We Write About When We (Arabs) Write About Love
Essays

Forging Peace for Artsakh—The Debacle of Nagorno Karabagh

16 OCTOBER 2023 • By Seta Kabranian-Melkonian
Forging Peace for Artsakh—The Debacle of Nagorno Karabagh
Books

Edward Said: Writing in the Service of Life 

9 OCTOBER 2023 • By Layla AlAmmar
Edward Said: Writing in the Service of Life 
Theatre

Hartaqât: Heresies of a World with Policed Borders

9 OCTOBER 2023 • By Nada Ghosn
<em>Hartaqât</em>: Heresies of a World with Policed Borders
Theatre

Lebanese Thespian Aida Sabra Blossoms in International Career

9 OCTOBER 2023 • By Nada Ghosn
Lebanese Thespian Aida Sabra Blossoms in International Career
Books

The Contemporary Literary Scene in Iran

1 OCTOBER 2023 • By Salar Abdoh
The Contemporary Literary Scene in Iran
Poetry

Allen C. Jones—Two Poems from Son of a Cult

12 SEPTEMBER 2023 • By Allen C Jones
Allen C. Jones—Two Poems from <em>Son of a Cult</em>
Essays

A Day in the Life with Forugh Farrokhzad (and a Tortoise)

3 SEPTEMBER 2023 • By Fargol Malekpoosh
A Day in the Life with Forugh Farrokhzad (and a Tortoise)
Fiction

“Sweet Tea”—a classic Kurdish story by Hussein Arif

3 SEPTEMBER 2023 • By Hussein Arif, Jiyar Homer
“Sweet Tea”—a classic Kurdish story by Hussein Arif
Art

What Palestine Brings to the World—a Major Paris Exhibition

31 JULY 2023 • By Sasha Moujaes
<em>What Palestine Brings to the World</em>—a Major Paris Exhibition
Book Reviews

Literature Takes Courage: on Ahmet Altan’s Lady Life

24 JULY 2023 • By Kaya Genç
Literature Takes Courage: on Ahmet Altan’s <em>Lady Life</em>
Editorial

Stories From The Markaz, Stories From the Center

2 JULY 2023 • By Malu Halasa
Stories From The Markaz, Stories From the Center
Fiction

“Here, Freedom”—fiction from Danial Haghighi

2 JULY 2023 • By Danial Haghighi, Salar Abdoh
“Here, Freedom”—fiction from Danial Haghighi
Fiction

“The Agency”—a story by Natasha Tynes

2 JULY 2023 • By Natasha Tynes
“The Agency”—a story by Natasha Tynes
Fiction

We Saw Paris, Texas—a story by Ola Mustapha

2 JULY 2023 • By Ola Mustapha
We Saw <em>Paris, Texas</em>—a story by Ola Mustapha
Fiction

Rich and Poor People—fiction by Farah Ahamed

2 JULY 2023 • By Farah Ahamed
Rich and Poor People—fiction by Farah Ahamed
Essays

“My Mother is a Tree”—a story by Aliyeh Ataei

2 JULY 2023 • By Aliyeh Ataei, Siavash Saadlou
“My Mother is a Tree”—a story by Aliyeh Ataei
Fiction

“The Afghan and the Persian”—a short story by Jordan Elgrably

2 JULY 2023 • By Jordan Elgrably
“The Afghan and the Persian”—a short story by Jordan Elgrably
Beirut

“The City Within”—fiction from MK Harb

2 JULY 2023 • By MK Harb
“The City Within”—fiction from MK Harb
Fiction

“The Burden of Inheritance”—fiction from Mai Al-Nakib

2 JULY 2023 • By Mai Al-Nakib
“The Burden of Inheritance”—fiction from Mai Al-Nakib
Fiction

STAMP ME—a monologue by Yussef El Guindi

2 JULY 2023 • By Yussef El Guindi
STAMP ME—a monologue by Yussef El Guindi
Fiction

The Ship No One Wanted—a story by Hassan Abdulrazak

2 JULY 2023 • By Hassan Abdulrazzak
The Ship No One Wanted—a story by Hassan Abdulrazak
Fiction

“Nadira of Tlemcen”—fiction from Abdellah Taïa

2 JULY 2023 • By Abdellah Taïa
“Nadira of Tlemcen”—fiction from Abdellah Taïa
Fiction

Abortion Tale: On Our Ground

2 JULY 2023 • By Ghadeer Ahmed, Hala Kamal
Abortion Tale: On Our Ground
Fiction

On Ice—fiction from Malu Halasa

2 JULY 2023 • By Malu Halasa
On Ice—fiction from Malu Halasa
Fiction

Hayat and the Rain—fiction from Mona Alshammari

2 JULY 2023 • By Mona Al-Shammari, Ibrahim Fawzy
Hayat and the Rain—fiction from Mona Alshammari
Featured Artist

Artist at Work: Syrian Filmmaker Afraa Batous

26 JUNE 2023 • By Dima Hamdan
Artist at Work: Syrian Filmmaker Afraa Batous
Art & Photography

Deniz Goran’s New Novel Contrasts Art and the Gezi Park Protests

19 JUNE 2023 • By Arie Amaya-Akkermans
Deniz Goran’s New Novel Contrasts Art and the Gezi Park Protests
Columns

Afghan Cuisine’s Rice Dishes—Delectables of the Silk Road

12 JUNE 2023 • By Sumaira Akbarzada
Afghan Cuisine’s Rice Dishes—Delectables of the Silk Road
Art & Photography

From the City to the Desert—Tahmineh Monzavi

4 JUNE 2023 • By Tahmineh Monzavi
From the City to the Desert—Tahmineh Monzavi
Essays

Turkey’s Earthquake as a Generational Disaster

4 JUNE 2023 • By Sanem Su Avci
Turkey’s Earthquake as a Generational Disaster
Arabic

Arab Theatre Grapples With Climate Change, Borders, War & Love

4 JUNE 2023 • By Hassan Abdulrazzak
Arab Theatre Grapples With Climate Change, Borders, War & Love
Poetry Markaz

Zara Houshmand, Moon and Sun

4 JUNE 2023 • By Zara Houshmand
Zara Houshmand, <em>Moon and Sun</em>
Books

The Markaz Review Interview—Leila Aboulela, Writing Sudan

29 MAY 2023 • By Yasmine Motawy
The Markaz Review Interview—Leila Aboulela, Writing Sudan
Art & Photography

And Yet Our Brothers: Portraits of France

22 MAY 2023 • By Laëtitia Soula
And Yet Our Brothers: Portraits of France
Columns

Yogurt, Surveillance and Book Covers

1 MAY 2023 • By Malu Halasa
Yogurt, Surveillance and Book Covers
Photography

Iran on the Move—Photos by Peyman Hooshmandzadeh

1 MAY 2023 • By Peyman Hooshmandzadeh, Malu Halasa
Iran on the Move—Photos by Peyman Hooshmandzadeh
Art & Photography

TMR Conversations: Mana Neyestani, Graphic Novelist

1 MAY 2023 • By Malu Halasa
TMR Conversations: Mana Neyestani, Graphic Novelist
Essays

When a Country is not a Country—the Chimera of Borders

17 APRIL 2023 • By Ara Oshagan
When a Country is not a Country—the Chimera of Borders
Essays

Artsakh and the Truth About the Legend of Monte Melkonian

17 APRIL 2023 • By Seta Kabranian-Melkonian
Artsakh and the Truth About the Legend of Monte Melkonian
Film

Seven Winters in Tehran and the Execution of Reyhaneh Jabbari

10 APRIL 2023 • By Malu Halasa
<em>Seven Winters in Tehran</em> and the Execution of Reyhaneh Jabbari
Art

The Gaze of the Sci-fi Wahabi

2 APRIL 2023 • By Sophia Al-Maria
The Gaze of the Sci-fi Wahabi
Cities

“The Icarist”—a short story by Omar El Akkad

2 APRIL 2023 • By Omar El Akkad
“The Icarist”—a short story by Omar El Akkad
Columns

Sudden Journeys: Paris Arabe

27 MARCH 2023 • By Jenine Abboushi
Sudden Journeys: Paris Arabe
Beirut

Tel Aviv-Beirut, a Film on War, Love & Borders

20 MARCH 2023 • By Karim Goury
<em>Tel Aviv-Beirut</em>, a Film on War, Love & Borders
Beirut

Interview with Michale Boganim, Director of Tel Aviv-Beirut

20 MARCH 2023 • By Karim Goury
Interview with Michale Boganim, Director of <em>Tel Aviv-Beirut</em>
Art

Nazanin Pouyandeh

5 MARCH 2023 • By TMR
Nazanin Pouyandeh
Centerpiece

Broken Home: Britain in the Time of Migration

5 MARCH 2023 • By Malu Halasa
Broken Home: Britain in the Time of Migration
Cities

For Those Who Dwell in Tents, Home is Temporal—Or Is It?

5 MARCH 2023 • By Arie Amaya-Akkermans
For Those Who Dwell in Tents, Home is Temporal—Or Is It?
Cities

The Odyssey That Forged a Stronger Athenian

5 MARCH 2023 • By Iason Athanasiadis
The Odyssey That Forged a Stronger Athenian
Cities

Coming of Age in a Revolution

5 MARCH 2023 • By Lushik Lotus Lee
Coming of Age in a Revolution
Art & Photography

Going Home—a photo essay by Jassem Ghazbanpour

5 MARCH 2023 • By Jassem Ghazbanpour
Going Home—a photo essay by Jassem Ghazbanpour
Book Reviews

To Receive Asylum, You First Have to be Believed, and Accepted

5 MARCH 2023 • By Mischa Geracoulis
To Receive Asylum, You First Have to be Believed, and Accepted
Essays

Home Under Siege: a Palestine Photo Essay

5 MARCH 2023 • By Anam Raheem
Home Under Siege: a Palestine Photo Essay
Art

Displacement, Migration are at the Heart of Istanbul Exhibit

13 FEBRUARY 2023 • By Jennifer Hattam
Displacement, Migration are at the Heart of Istanbul Exhibit
Featured excerpt

Fiction: Inaam Kachachi’s The Dispersal, or Tashari

5 FEBRUARY 2023 • By Inaam Kachachi
Fiction: Inaam Kachachi’s <em>The Dispersal</em>, or <em>Tashari</em>
Fiction

“The Truck to Berlin”—Fiction from Hassan Blasim

5 FEBRUARY 2023 • By Hassan Blasim
“The Truck to Berlin”—Fiction from Hassan Blasim
Columns

Letters From Tehran: Braving Tehran’s Roundabout, Maidan Valiasr

30 JANUARY 2023 • By TMR
Letters From Tehran: Braving Tehran’s Roundabout, Maidan Valiasr
Book Reviews

Editor’s Picks: Magical Realism in Iranian Lit

30 JANUARY 2023 • By Rana Asfour
Editor’s Picks: Magical Realism in Iranian Lit
Book Reviews

Sabyl Ghoussoub Heads for Beirut in Search of Himself

23 JANUARY 2023 • By Adil Bouhelal
Sabyl Ghoussoub Heads for Beirut in Search of Himself
Book Reviews

Mohamed Makhzangi Despairs at Man’s Cruelty to Animals

26 DECEMBER 2022 • By Saliha Haddad
Mohamed Makhzangi Despairs at Man’s Cruelty to Animals
Columns

Siri Hustvedt & Ahdaf Souief Write Letters to Imprisoned Writer Narges Mohammadi

15 DECEMBER 2022 • By TMR
Siri Hustvedt & Ahdaf Souief Write Letters to Imprisoned Writer Narges Mohammadi
Film

The Swimmers and the Mardini Sisters: a True Liberation Tale

15 DECEMBER 2022 • By Rana Haddad
<em>The Swimmers</em> and the Mardini Sisters: a True Liberation Tale
Music

Revolutionary Hit Parade: 12+1 Protest Songs from Iran

15 DECEMBER 2022 • By Malu Halasa
Revolutionary Hit Parade: 12+1 Protest Songs from Iran
Columns

Music for Tomorrow: Iranians Yearn for Freedom

15 DECEMBER 2022 • By Nazanin Malekan
Music for Tomorrow: Iranians Yearn for Freedom
Poetry

Three Poems by Tishani Doshi

15 DECEMBER 2022 • By Tishani Doshi
Three Poems by Tishani Doshi
Art

Museums in Exile—MO.CO’s show for Chile, Sarajevo & Palestine

12 DECEMBER 2022 • By Jordan Elgrably
Museums in Exile—MO.CO’s show for Chile, Sarajevo & Palestine
Columns

Letter From Tehran: From Hair to Hugs, Times Are Changing

28 NOVEMBER 2022 • By TMR
Essays

Farewell to a Football Love Affair in Iran

15 NOVEMBER 2022 • By Sara Mokhavat
Farewell to a Football Love Affair in Iran
Poetry

5 Poems & a Video—Essential Voices: Poetry of Iran and Its Diaspora

15 NOVEMBER 2022 • By TMR, Sholeh Wolpé
Film Reviews

Why Muslim Palestinian “Mo” Preferred Catholic Confession to Therapy

7 NOVEMBER 2022 • By Sarah Eltantawi
Why Muslim Palestinian “Mo” Preferred Catholic Confession to Therapy
Columns

Sudden Journeys: Israel’s Intimate Separations—Part 2

31 OCTOBER 2022 • By Jenine Abboushi
Sudden Journeys: Israel’s Intimate Separations—Part 2
Opinion

Fragile Freedom, Fragile States in the Muslim World

24 OCTOBER 2022 • By I. Rida Mahmood
Fragile Freedom, Fragile States in the Muslim World
Columns

Women Are the Face of Iran’s Leaderless Revolution

24 OCTOBER 2022 • By Mahmood Karimi Hakak
Women Are the Face of Iran’s Leaderless Revolution
Opinion

Letter From Tehran: On the Pain of Others, Once Again

24 OCTOBER 2022 • By Sara Mokhavat
Letter From Tehran: On the Pain of Others, Once Again
Columns

For Electronica Artist Hadi Zeidan, Dance Clubs are Analogous to Churches

24 OCTOBER 2022 • By Melissa Chemam
For Electronica Artist Hadi Zeidan, Dance Clubs are Analogous to Churches
Poetry

We Say Salt from To Speak in Salt

15 OCTOBER 2022 • By Becky Thompson
We Say Salt from <em>To Speak in Salt</em>
Art & Photography

Homage to Mahsa Jhina Amini & the Women-Led Call for Freedom

15 OCTOBER 2022 • By TMR
Homage to Mahsa Jhina Amini & the Women-Led Call for Freedom
Art

Defiance—an essay from Sara Mokhavat

15 OCTOBER 2022 • By Sara Mokhavat, Salar Abdoh
Defiance—an essay from Sara Mokhavat
Columns

Sudden Journeys: Israel’s Intimate Separations—Part 1

26 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Jenine Abboushi
Sudden Journeys: Israel’s Intimate Separations—Part 1
Centerpiece

“What Are You Doing in Berlin?”—a short story by Ahmed Awny

15 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Ahmed Awny, Rana Asfour
“What Are You Doing in Berlin?”—a short story by Ahmed Awny
Fiction

“Another German”—a short story by Ahmed Awadalla

15 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Ahmed Awadalla
“Another German”—a short story by Ahmed Awadalla
Columns

Phoneless in Filthy Berlin

15 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Maisan Hamdan, Rana Asfour
Phoneless in Filthy Berlin
Art & Photography

Shirin Mohammad: Portrait of an Artist Between Berlin & Tehran

15 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Noushin Afzali
Shirin Mohammad: Portrait of an Artist Between Berlin & Tehran
Essays

Exile, Music, Hope & Nostalgia Among Berlin’s Arab Immigrants

15 SEPTEMBER 2022 • By Diana Abbani
Exile, Music, Hope & Nostalgia Among Berlin’s Arab Immigrants
Film

Two Syrian Brothers Find Themselves in “We Are From There”

22 AUGUST 2022 • By Angélique Crux
Two Syrian Brothers Find Themselves in “We Are From There”
Music Reviews

Hot Summer Playlist: “Diaspora Dreams” Drops

8 AUGUST 2022 • By Mischa Geracoulis
Hot Summer Playlist: “Diaspora Dreams” Drops
Columns

Tunisia’s Imed Alibi Crosses Borders in new “Frigya” Electronica Album

18 JULY 2022 • By Melissa Chemam
Tunisia’s Imed Alibi Crosses Borders in new “Frigya” Electronica Album
Art

Abundant Middle Eastern Talent at the ’22 Avignon Theatre Fest

18 JULY 2022 • By Nada Ghosn
Abundant Middle Eastern Talent at the ’22 Avignon Theatre Fest
Book Reviews

Leaving One’s Country in Mai Al-Nakib’s “An Unlasting Home”

27 JUNE 2022 • By Rana Asfour
Leaving One’s Country in Mai Al-Nakib’s “An Unlasting Home”
Book Reviews

Traps and Shadows in Noor Naga’s Egypt Novel

20 JUNE 2022 • By Ahmed Naji
Traps and Shadows in Noor Naga’s Egypt Novel
Music

Roxana Vilk’s Personal History of Iranian Music

20 JUNE 2022 • By Melissa Chemam
Roxana Vilk’s Personal History of Iranian Music
Columns

World Refugee Day — What We Owe Each Other

20 JUNE 2022 • By Jordan Elgrably
World Refugee Day — What We Owe Each Other
Centerpiece

“Asha and Haaji”—a story by Hanif Kureishi

15 JUNE 2022 • By Hanif Kureishi
“Asha and Haaji”—a story by Hanif Kureishi
Fiction

Nektaria Anastasiadou: “Gold in Taksim Square”

15 JUNE 2022 • By Nektaria Anastasiadou
Nektaria Anastasiadou: “Gold in Taksim Square”
Art

Lisa Teasley: “Death is Beautiful”

15 JUNE 2022 • By Lisa Teasley
Lisa Teasley: “Death is Beautiful”
Fiction

“Buenos Aires of Her Eyes”—a story by Alireza Iranmehr

15 JUNE 2022 • By Alireza Iranmehr, Salar Abdoh
“Buenos Aires of Her Eyes”—a story by Alireza Iranmehr
Fiction

“The Salamander”—fiction from Sarah AlKahly-Mills

15 JUNE 2022 • By Sarah AlKahly-Mills
“The Salamander”—fiction from Sarah AlKahly-Mills
Featured excerpt

Hawra Al-Nadawi: “Tuesday and the Green Movement”

15 JUNE 2022 • By Hawra Al-Nadawi, Alice Guthrie
Hawra Al-Nadawi: “Tuesday and the Green Movement”
Book Reviews

Fragmented Love in Alison Glick’s “The Other End of the Sea”

16 MAY 2022 • By Nora Lester Murad
Fragmented Love in Alison Glick’s “The Other End of the Sea”
Featured excerpt

Arguments Toward a Universal Palestinian Identity

11 MAY 2022 • By Maurice Ebileeni
Arguments Toward a Universal Palestinian Identity
Film

Art Film Depicts the Landlocked Drama of Nagorno-Karabakh

2 MAY 2022 • By Taline Voskeritchian
Art Film Depicts the Landlocked Drama of Nagorno-Karabakh
Book Reviews

Joumana Haddad’s The Book of Queens: a Review

18 APRIL 2022 • By Laila Halaby
Joumana Haddad’s <em>The Book of Queens</em>: a Review
Book Reviews

Egyptian Comedic Novel Captures Dark Tale of Bedouin Migrants

18 APRIL 2022 • By Saliha Haddad
Egyptian Comedic Novel Captures Dark Tale of Bedouin Migrants
Columns

Torsheedeh: The Significance of Being a Sour Iranian Woman

15 APRIL 2022 • By Parisa Parnian
Torsheedeh: The Significance of Being a Sour Iranian Woman
Columns

Music in the Middle East: Bring Back Peace

21 MARCH 2022 • By Melissa Chemam
Music in the Middle East: Bring Back Peace
Book Reviews

The Art of Remembrance in Abacus of Loss

15 MARCH 2022 • By Sherine Elbanhawy
The Art of Remembrance in <em>Abacus of Loss</em>
Opinion

Ukraine War Reminds Refugees Some Are More Equal Than Others

7 MARCH 2022 • By Anna Lekas Miller
Ukraine War Reminds Refugees Some Are More Equal Than Others
Columns

“There’s Nothing Worse Than War”

24 FEBRUARY 2022 • By Jordan Elgrably
“There’s Nothing Worse Than War”
Art

Atia Shafee: Raw and Distant Memories

15 FEBRUARY 2022 • By Atia Shafee
Atia Shafee: Raw and Distant Memories
Art

Farzad Kohan: Love, Migration, Identity

15 FEBRUARY 2022 • By Farzad Kohan
Farzad Kohan: Love, Migration, Identity
Art

Baba Karam Lessons: Artist Amitis Motevalli

15 FEBRUARY 2022 • By Amitis Motevalli
Baba Karam Lessons: Artist Amitis Motevalli
Essays

Taming the Immigrant: Musings of a Writer in Exile

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Ahmed Naji, Rana Asfour
Taming the Immigrant: Musings of a Writer in Exile
Editorial

Refuge, or the Inherent Dignity of Every Human Being

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Jordan Elgrably
Refuge, or the Inherent Dignity of Every Human Being
Art & Photography

Children in Search of Refuge: a Photographic Essay

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Iason Athanasiadis
Children in Search of Refuge: a Photographic Essay
Film Reviews

“Europa,” Iraq’s Entry in the 94th annual Oscars, Frames Epic Refugee Struggle

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Thomas Dallal
“Europa,” Iraq’s Entry in the 94th annual Oscars, Frames Epic Refugee Struggle
Art & Photography

Refugees of Afghanistan in Iran: a Photo Essay by Peyman Hooshmandzadeh

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Peyman Hooshmandzadeh, Salar Abdoh
Refugees of Afghanistan in Iran: a Photo Essay by Peyman Hooshmandzadeh
Book Reviews

Meditations on The Ungrateful Refugee

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Rana Asfour
Meditations on <em>The Ungrateful Refugee</em>
Fiction

Fiction: Refugees in Serbia, an excerpt from “Silence is a Sense” by Layla AlAmmar

15 JANUARY 2022 • By Layla AlAmmar
Fiction: Refugees in Serbia, an excerpt from “Silence is a Sense” by Layla AlAmmar
Fiction

“Turkish Delights”—fiction from Omar Foda

15 DECEMBER 2021 • By Omar Foda
“Turkish Delights”—fiction from Omar Foda
Interviews

The Fabulous Omid Djalili on Good Times and the World

15 DECEMBER 2021 • By Jordan Elgrably
The Fabulous Omid Djalili on Good Times and the World
Columns

The (Afghan) Writer Who Sold His Book Collection to Pay the Rent

13 DECEMBER 2021 • By Angeles Espinosa
The (Afghan) Writer Who Sold His Book Collection to Pay the Rent
Art

Etel Adnan’s Sun and Sea: In Remembrance

19 NOVEMBER 2021 • By Arie Amaya-Akkermans
Etel Adnan’s Sun and Sea: In Remembrance
Centerpiece

Climate Disasters Hasten the Advent of a World Refugee Crisis

15 NOVEMBER 2021 • By Omar El Akkad
Climate Disasters Hasten the Advent of a World Refugee Crisis
Columns

Refugees Detained in Thessonaliki’s Diavata Camp Await Asylum

1 NOVEMBER 2021 • By Iason Athanasiadis
Refugees Detained in Thessonaliki’s Diavata Camp Await Asylum
Art

Guantánamo—The World’s Most Infamous Prison

15 OCTOBER 2021 • By Sarah Mirk
<em>Guantánamo</em>—The World’s Most Infamous Prison
Interviews

Interview With Prisoner X, Accused by the Bashar Al-Assad Regime of Terrorism

15 OCTOBER 2021 • By Jordan Elgrably
Interview With Prisoner X, Accused by the Bashar Al-Assad Regime of Terrorism
Art & Photography

Hasteem, We Are Here: The Collective for Black Iranians

15 SEPTEMBER 2021 • By Maryam Sophia Jahanbin
Hasteem, We Are Here: The Collective for Black Iranians
Essays

Attack the Empire and the Empire Strikes Back: What 20 Years of American Imperialism Has Wrought

15 SEPTEMBER 2021 • By Omar El Akkad
Attack the Empire and the Empire Strikes Back: What 20 Years of American Imperialism Has Wrought
Essays

Voyage of Lost Keys, an Armenian art installation

15 SEPTEMBER 2021 • By Aimée Papazian
Voyage of Lost Keys, an Armenian art installation
Columns

20 Years Ago This Month, 9/11 at Souk Ukaz

15 SEPTEMBER 2021 • By Hadani Ditmars
20 Years Ago This Month, 9/11 at Souk Ukaz
Weekly

Palestinian Akram Musallam Writes of Loss and Memory

29 AUGUST 2021 • By khulud khamis
Palestinian Akram Musallam Writes of Loss and Memory
Columns

Afghanistan Falls to the Taliban

16 AUGUST 2021 • By Hadani Ditmars
Afghanistan Falls to the Taliban
Latest Reviews

Women Comic Artists, from Afghanistan to Morocco

15 AUGUST 2021 • By Sherine Hamdy
Women Comic Artists, from Afghanistan to Morocco
Latest Reviews

Puigaudeau & Sénones: a Graphic Novel on Mauritania Circa 1933

15 AUGUST 2021 • By Paraska Tolan-Szkilnik 
Puigaudeau & Sénones: a Graphic Novel on Mauritania Circa 1933
Weekly

Heba Hayek’s Gaza Memories

1 AUGUST 2021 • By Shereen Malherbe
Heba Hayek’s Gaza Memories
Weekly

Summer of ‘21 Reading—Notes from the Editors

25 JULY 2021 • By TMR
Summer of ‘21 Reading—Notes from the Editors
Latest Reviews

No Exit

14 JULY 2021 • By Allam Zedan
No Exit
Book Reviews

ISIS and the Absurdity of War in the Age of Twitter

4 JULY 2021 • By Jessica Proett
ISIS and the Absurdity of War in the Age of Twitter
Weekly

World Picks: May – June 2021

16 MAY 2021 • By Lawrence Joffe
World Picks: May – June 2021
Editorial

Why WALLS?

14 MAY 2021 • By Jordan Elgrably
Why WALLS?
Latest Reviews

The World Grows Blackthorn Walls

14 MAY 2021 • By Sholeh Wolpé
The World Grows Blackthorn Walls
Fiction

A Home Across the Azure Sea

14 MAY 2021 • By Aida Y. Haddad
A Home Across the Azure Sea
Essays

From Damascus to Birmingham, a Selected Glossary

14 MAY 2021 • By Frances Zaid
From Damascus to Birmingham, a Selected Glossary
Weekly

World Picks: April – May 2021

18 APRIL 2021 • By Malu Halasa
World Picks: April – May 2021
TMR 4 • Small & Indie Presses

Algiers, Algeria in the novel “Our Riches”

14 DECEMBER 2020 • By Kaouther Adimi
Algiers, Algeria in the novel “Our Riches”
TMR 4 • Small & Indie Presses

Hassan Blasim’s “God 99”

14 DECEMBER 2020 • By Hassan Blasim
Hassan Blasim’s “God 99”
Book Reviews

An American in Istanbul Between Muslim and Christian Worlds

15 NOVEMBER 2020 • By Anne-Marie O'Connor
An American in Istanbul Between Muslim and Christian Worlds
Beirut

Wajdi Mouawad, Just the Playwright for Our Dystopian World

15 SEPTEMBER 2020 • By Melissa Chemam
Wajdi Mouawad, Just the Playwright for Our Dystopian World
Art & Photography

Arts in the Pandemic Age

15 SEPTEMBER 2020 • By Melissa Chemam
Arts in the Pandemic Age
What We're Into

Dismantlings and Exile

14 SEPTEMBER 2020 • By Francisco Letelier
Dismantlings and Exile
Columns

Why Non-Arabs Should Read Hisham Matar’s “The Return”

3 AUGUST 2017 • By Jordan Elgrably
Why Non-Arabs Should Read Hisham Matar’s “The Return”

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