Diary of an Illegal Immigrant Memoirs from Spain and Morocco

Diary of an Illegal Immigrant Memoirs from Spain and Morocco Elinor Cannon TUFTS UNIVERSITY Senior Honors Thesis International Letters and Visual Studies Arabic Preface “Iraqis, Moroccans, Algerians, Kurds, Pakistanis, gypsies, Indians. Infinite races wander this old continent looking for a way out. Each one has their own story, stories that are authentic films” (Yawmiyat, 53). These are the words of Rachid Nini in his autobiographical novel, Diary of an Illegal Immigrant, as he reflects on his experiences as an illegal immigrant in Spain. For this project I have translated the book, which was originally written in Arabic and later translated into Spanish. I used both versions to create an English translation that I think reflects the melancholy, and often sarcastic, voice of the author as he describes his life as an illegal. Nini comments on the interactions between Spanish and North African cultures, revealing the nature of xenophobia and cultural stereotypes. The book’s pages are replete with insights and musings on the tribulations that characterize everyday life of an Arab in exile. There is irony in the book as Nini attempts to dispel these stereotypes that Spanish and North African cultures have of each other, meanwhile propagating stereotypes of his own of other European cultures. His memoirs beg to be read by a wider audience, as they depict not only the experience of a Moroccan immigrant in Spain but also the overall identity of an immigrant. To preface my translation of the work, I will give an overview of the author and the book, as well as a brief literary review on its main themes and social commentary. Finally, I will discuss the translation from both a personal and general perspective. Diary of an Illegal Immigrant Cannon 2 Before discussing the book, it is necessary to provide some details about the author, as his education and personal background is central to understanding the book because he serves as both protagonist and narrator. Rachid Nini was born in Ben Slimane, Morocco in 1970 and spent many years studying to become a journalist. However, even with a university degree, Nini was unable to find anything but freelance work, and, after months of frustration, he began to feel like he did not belong in Morocco. Since childhood he had nurtured the idea of traveling across the Mediterranean after witnessing neighbors immigrating to France and coming home with newly luxurious lives (López). When the author received an invitation to participate in the World Amazigh Congress, an annual conference on human rights and the identity of the Berber people (Larbi), on the Canary Islands, he immediately took advantage of this fleeting opportunity to enter Spanish territory. Although his visa was only valid for a month, Nini went straight to Alicante with what little money he had and began searching for a way to make a living and a place to settle down. Nini describes these feelings: “When I entered that cold continent I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, or where I could put down some roots. So I let my destiny guide me, like a cardboard ship abandoned in a small stream” (Yawmiyat, 174-175). He lived in Spain for three years before finally feeling the desire to return to his homeland in 2000. “I had to go back,” he writes, “like any migrating bird leaving the cold to return to the warmth” (Yawmiyat, 167). He left the country after just three years but he later married a Spanish woman and obtained Spanish citizenship, although he still lives in Rabat. The author’s three years living alongside Spaniards, Algerians, Argentines, and Cannon 3 gypsies affected him enough that he decided to chronicle his experiences during his time there. His desire “to paint a portrait of the events that others experience every day” (López) motivated him to scribble his thoughts on napkins and scraps of paper in bars and cafes. He regularly mailed or faxed his accounts to the Moroccan newspaper Al Alam to be published weekly (Mora) and later the chapters were compiled and published in book form in 1999. However, this first edition did not garner much attention until 2002 when it was translated into Spanish and published as part of the series “Ediciones del Oriente y del Mediterráneo” (“Editions of the East and the Mediterranean”). Since then a second edition has been released in Morocco, although the Arabic version of the book is not as widely read as its Spanish translation. The goal, as he saw it, was to enlighten other societies, especially Spanish society, about the reality of being an illegal immigrant because these other cultures only know “what they see on television. The clichés: rafts, drownings, fishing, and hashish. They don’t know the people” (Mora). For Nini, the popular perception of immigration is misleading about the true nature of the immigrant identity. Difficult to classify, the book represents a cross between autobiography and novel, and can best be described as a collection of memoirs. Like For Bread Alone, a series of vignettes from the Moroccan author’s life (Mohammed Choukri), Diary of an Illegal Immigrant traverses that boundary between genres (Lisenbee). His style of writing also adds to this ambiguity, as he chooses not to portray events chronologically, nor provide specific historical details. In contrast to the quasi-autobiographical aspect of the work, many of the proper nouns are left out, creating a sense of anonymity. None of the characters appears in more than a few chapters, and they are known only by their first Cannon 4 name and some identifier, such as “Ahmed the Algerian.” There is no mention of the narrator’s name, except on the cover of the book. This gives the reader the impression that it does not matter who says what or when the events take place; only the situations are important. Through this anonymity Nini, consciously or not, transforms his memoirs into a universal testament of the immigrant experience. It seems like this could be happening to any immigrant in any foreign place, struggling to make a life. Diary of an Illegal Immigrant is a deep look into the immigrant identity and the experience of being an illegal in Spain, which I will refer to as a part of the Andalusian experience, as the term “Andalusian” reflects the overlap of North African and Spanish culture, both historical and contemporary. I will give a brief overview of the historical context of the Iberian Peninsula because it is vital for understanding the interaction between the two cultures. North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula will forever be linked by the shared history of Al- Andalus, the historical term for the region ruled by the Moors (Arabs and Berbers from North Africa) from the 8th century to the 15th (“Andalus, al-”). The time of Al-Andalus is characterized by the many centuries of coexistence of different cultures and religions, and, later, by the battles that raged through the peninsula during the Middle Ages (Ray). Although the term “Al-Andalus” is now primarily used in historical contexts, the southernmost province of Spain still carries its name: Andalucía. Despite the initial overthrowing of the Moorish kings and the expulsions and killings that occurred for centuries afterward, the peninsula as it is today is inescapably tied to its Islamic counterpart, North Africa. With the increase in immigration, trade, and political relations between North African countries and southern Europe, it is clear that this tie is still as Cannon 5 strong as ever, although now present in an entirely different form. Diary of an Illegal Immigrant confirms the existence of this continuing overlap of cultures and exchange of ideas, as it transcends the two cultures and represents various views of the Andalusian experience. The overlap appears in the place names of many of the cities and historical sites that Rachid Nini visits, especially in his visit to Toledo. He narrates, I sat down in one of the café terraces on Souqadawab. The Arco de Sangre stretches in front of me. I don’t know the origin of its harsh name, the Arch of Blood, but I do at least know that in centuries past Souqadawab, where I’m seated, was a place to leave livestock before entering the city. Its name now, as it’s written on the white marble plaque, is Zocodover (Yawmiyat, 149). The juxtaposition of the names “Souqadawab,” of Arabic origin, and “Zocodover,” its Spanish name derived from the original Arabic, demonstrates the permanence of the Arabic names in many parts of Spain. This is also the case of Córdoba, Sevilla, and many other southern cities whose names are derived from their original Arabic titles (Quintana and Mora, 706-707). The same occurs in the case of the Spanish language, which has adapted many words from Arabic. For example, the name “Abu Abdullah” became “Boabdil”, and souq, the Arabic word for market, became zoco, both of which are present in the book. More generally, it has been said that approximately 8% of Spanish words are of Arabic origin (Quintana and Mora, 705), among them the common words such as “Ojalá” (God willing or hopefully, from the Arabic law sha’ Allah), “aceite” (olive oil, Cannon 6 from the Arabic az-zeit), and “álgebra” (algebra, from the Arabic al-jabr) (Diccionario de la Real Academia Española). Also, the increase in immigration from North Africa to the Iberian Peninsula means that more and more North Africans are returning to inhabit the land over which they once ruled. This coexistence, peaceful or not, is the very soul of Al- Andalus, which has been hailed as a period of tolerance between Jews, Muslims, and Christians alike (Ray, 1-2).

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