As a child growing up in Tunisia, Helmi Ben Meriem heard
nothing but negative things about Somalia. It was a country reduced to cultural
stereotypes and ravaged by war, famine, and endless squabbling among its
political leaders. Little did he know that one day he would be his country’s
sole specialist on Somalia. His PhD dissertation, titled, “Writing Dictatorship
in Selected Works by Nuraddin Farah, a Foucauldian Reading,” forged an opening
for additional studies.
A researcher at the University of Sousse in Tunisia, Ben
Meriem is also a fiction writer. He has authored several short stories and is
finishing a new novel.
Recently, Ben Meriem ruminated on the remarkable turn of
events in his life, from his childhood bubble to adult scholarly discovery.
“As a child, was I supposed to know better that Somalia had
more to offer than those two gloomy pictures of war and famine?” he ruefully
said.
Ben Meriem’s interest in Somalia did not come overnight; it occurred
in two stages. First, as a young man, he would go to the public library as he was
fascinated with maps. His initial interest was in landlocked countries, such as
Lesotho and Ethiopia, and islands like Sri Lanka and Comoros Islands.
Somalia is neither a landlocked country nor an island, but something
about its geography drew his curiosity. It is what Ben Meriem called, “the
oddly shaped dagger-like piercing into its land near Garowe.
Many years later, Ben Meriem learned the reason why Somalia’s
strange-looking shape came into being: It was the product of a colonial
demarcation of the country, including the role Ethiopia played.
“I was fascinated by Ethiopia’s desire to get as close to the
ocean as possible, wanting the salty sea smell to reach its lands,” he said,
smiling.
The second stage began four years ago when Ben Meriem and a
friend traveled to Tunis, the capital of Tunisia. Ben Meriem did not want to undertake
the trip due to his aversion to big, cosmopolitan cities. What happened next
was a classic case of the Rashomon effect—multiple telling of a story by the
individuals involved in rather subjective, contradictory ways.
His friend insists, according to Ben Meriem, that the two stumbled
on Nuraddin Farah’s first novel, “From a Crooked Rib,” at a famous bookstore in
the capital.
Memory being a tricky thing, Ben Meriem is adamant that he and
his friend noticed a small book fair while strolling not far from the Tunisian
Broadcasting Agency. It was there, he recalls, where the two saw Farah’s novel.
“My journey to Somalia and discovery of its literature
started at a bookstore famous for its cheap editions and violations of copyrights,”
Ben Meriem said, laughing. “That’s how I
came to know Farah, and how I came to know Somali literature. Ebla [the novel’s
protagonist] was like the open-sesame that got me hooked on Somali literature.”
Ebla was followed by many others, including Zulekha, Medina,
Diriye, Nadifo, Askar, Sharif, and Olad.
Perhaps Ben Meriem was also enamored with something else,
something more intriguing. It is, he said, what former Somali Prime Minister
Mohamed Ibrahim Egal once termed “the Biblical character of the Somali people.”
At any rate, Ben Meriem’s casual discovery of a novel by
Somalia’s eminent and internationally acclaimed writer Nuruddin Farah was a
blessing. His research on Farah was followed by study of many others, such as
Abdi Sheikh Abdi, Saida Hagi-Diriye Herzi, Sofia Samatar, Hassan Mumin, Abdi
Latif Ega, Nadifa Mohamed, Awes Ahmed Osman, Yasmeen Maxamuud, and Diriye Osman.
Ben Meriem’s road to specializing in Somali studies was
anything but smooth. It was paved with put-downs, smears, and psychological
hurdles. Somalia, after all, was a country that has provided a spectacle of
dysfunction over two decades: a tortuous civil war, chaos, piracy, religious
extremism, and the lack of a strong central government. Ben Meriem’s choice of study
of that country stirred an unusual amount of rumblings among his friends and
colleagues. Why study a messed-up country that is gripped by famine and
starvation?
“Imagine a person fervently talking about his studies only
for someone to say ‘I did not know those starving people had literature,’” said
Ben Meriem.
It was irksome for him to be subjected to answering questions
about the relationship of class, poverty, and the production of literary work.
“I was faced with people who were so comfortable in their ignorance,”
explained Ben Meriem. “Tunisians, especially the educated class, think so highly
of themselves and never miss an opportunity to disparage other nations like
Libya, Afghanistan, and Somalia. If educated Tunisians can be racists and
bigoted, then what was I expecting from the majority of Tunisians who only read
half a page a year? Thank God, my American literature professor and a Tunisian friend
passionate about Arab literature, who are ever helpful and encouraging, made it
possible for me to pursue my interest in Somalia.”
By sheer force of will and intellect, Ben Meriem kept studying
Somalia. In spite of the constant discouragement that he encountered, it did
not keep him in a suspended state of melancholy. Somalia became his obsession,
and nothing could stop him. He had no time for people with a fatalistic view who
see a poor country and infer that it cannot possibly have viable literature.
Today, Ben Meriem is a walking, talking rebuke of everything that stands for
ignorance and cultural stereotypes.
A few weeks ago, Ben Meriem took a picture of some graffiti
near a train station in the town of Lamta. It read, “Tunisia is a bitch.” But
what was written and drawn next to that phrase was mindboggling and disturbing:
the word “Somalia” and a flag with the letter “X.” The five stars of the Somali
flag were missing.
Ben Meriem was incredulous.
“The ‘X’ was a symbol of death or poison,” he said. “This
association tells everything about how Somalia is perceived in Tunisia.”
These cultural stereotypes that Tunisians have about Somalia
are not limited to Tunisia; they are prevalent in many countries.
“I believe that every country needs other people to look down
on,” said Ben Meriem.
Ben Meriem sees bright sides of Somalia other than its fascinating
literature. He sees a country that can teach other developing countries a few
things about the peaceful transfer of power. As an example, the image of three
Somali presidents standing together in February 2017 when power was handed to
President Mohamed Abdullahi Farmajo went viral on social media.
“In a region where dictators cannot seem to force themselves
to let go of power, the Somali case seems to be a positive oddity,” said Ben
Meriem.
The road to recovery for Somalia is promising. Rwanda
experienced a similar breakdown of order and a violent civil war, Ben Meriem
explained, yet it has slowly and incrementally recovered and is now rebuilding.
It is, therefore, according to Ben Meriem, the responsibility of the Somalis to
rebuild their country and change its negative image.
“If the Somalis wish the negative associations to be erased, they—and
only they—can make it happen,” affirmed Ben Meriem.
A scholar like Ben Meriem is ever conscious of the role of
literature and its power in helping to reshape the history and progress of a
country.
“I firmly believe in the power of the arts,” said Ben Meriem,
“in not only recording the history of Somalia but also in the shaping of
Somalia; of creating hope and possible paths toward progress and prosperity.”
He added: “It is, as
has always been, in the hands of the Somalis.”
Ben Meriem, like Somalia, has a compelling story line: There
is poetry to a man once doubted and ridiculed, but now making history and
becoming the first Tunisian scholar who specializes in a country that is slowly
rising from the ashes—a country that was battered, but still standing. Ben
Meriem, like Somalia, will forever represent how minds can change.
