Part 1 the Fallouts of the Pains of the Player with the Golden Feet and Head

Part 1 The Fallouts of the Pains of the Player with the Golden Feet and Head The Fallouts of the Pains of the Player with Golden Feet and Head A PhD novella accompanying the exegesis: Displace or Be Displaced: Narratives of Multiple Exile in the Sudanese Communities in Australia Adil al-Qassas [Examiners: To encourage freedom of interpretation it is suggested this novella be read first, before reading the thesis abstract contained in the exegesis volume] A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy College of Arts Victoria University, Melbourne, Australia 2015 The Novella’s characters, voices, as they appear in the subsequent chapters Chapter One: The voice of Hassan al-Mitairif, a seventyish male who is descended from a northern Sudanese background, the dominant culture of which is influenced by Arab-Islamic culture. He approaches ‘the narrator’ asking for his mediation to solve a problem, a problem which involves most of the novella’s characters. Chapter Two: The voice of ‘the narrator’—the intercessor—immersed in a monologue. He is in his mid-forties. He comes from a northern Sudanese background, the governing culture of which is influenced by Arab-Islamic culture. Chapter Three: The voice of al-Dungul, a male in his early sixties, who has also sprung from a northern Sudanese background, the dominant culture of which is influenced by Arabic-Islamic culture. Chapter Four: The voice of William, a male in his mid-fifties, who comes from a southern Sudanese Christian background, although his own culture is influenced overwhelmingly by the northern Sudanese Arabic culture; for he was brought up in a northern Sudanese town. Chapter Five: The voice of Christina, William’s 25 year old daughter, who left Sudan as a child to spend a few years in Egypt before she and her family resettled in Australia. Chapter Six: The voice of Ibrahim, a male in his late-forties, who is descended from an indigenous ethnic (Nubian-Christian) Sudanese background. His native culture is influenced by the dominant northern Sudanese Arabic culture. Chapter Seven: The voice of Milad, a male who is in his mid-forties, who comes from a Coptic (Christian) Sudanese background. Chapter Eight: The voice of Shahinda, a 28 year old female, who is descended from a northern Sudanese background, the prevailing culture of which is influenced by Arab-Islamic culture. Chapter Nine: The voice of Jamal, the owner of the Café, who is in his early forties, and who has also sprung from a northern Sudanese background, the dominant culture of which is influenced by Arabic-Islamic culture. Chapter Ten: The voice of the narrator/intercessor, a male in his mid-forties, who derives from a northern Sudanese background, the predominant culture of which is influenced by Arab- Islamic culture. He is a close friend of Milad and Shahinda. Al-Mitairif Enough is enough, oh dear sir, it’s unbearable! Our folks have left behind all of their pressing, and non-pressing, businesses to wallow into the narratives and privacies of one another. It does not matter whether those narratives and privacies are factual or not. For it is indeed a sorry state that each one of us would strive in such a way that he would pick a tongue-clicking subject which would eventually cause embarrassment, or even outright dishonour, to his fellow brother’s social standing. The story—at least as it has presently been told—is about something that befell al-Dungul, or indeed something that al-Dungul made happen because of what had happened to him, or, more specifically, because of his eldest son’s, Mazin al-Dungul’s, choice. What has come to pass, and is still in the process of passing, should now have, eventually, passed on even to your ears. For the matter has gone so far beyond its place of unfolding—which was in this Café—that it has now been metamorphosed into a favourite subject for gossips in the town’s cafés, restaurants, homes and other places. Mobile and home phones have been busying themselves full-time with the subject and it has been transported to other towns, cities and states. But the most morbid thing has been its reaching out beyond the bounds of this country and into Sudan! By Jove, Tilal Abd Qadir, who was, for that matter, a distant relative of al-Dungul, has already attested—to me—to that; though he is, exactly like your dear self, a chap of few words and, most importantly, no one contests his unsullied honesty and evident piety. He said to me that an aunt of his had asked him—during his last visit to Sudan—whether the rumours flying around about al- Dungul’s beating of his wife and his son, Mazin, were really true. Mazin, the rumours had it, had consequently abandoned his parents’ home, fully etched his body with tattoos, grown long and loose hair like a woman and joined a club for effeminate gays and drag queens! And though not a single word of that disgusting chattering has anything to do with the facts, it would, if it should reach al-Dungul’s ears, stop his heart beating, noting that he has recently been diagnosed with high blood pressure. This happens because some men’s mouths have delivered the matter to women’s tongues. Is there anything in this world more gluttonous than women’s tongues? We—you and me—would sit together for more than an hour; have you ever then noticed each of our 1 mobile phones ringing, even just once? Would that be so if a woman had been with us? Far from it! For if a woman’s phone is not to ring within a few minutes of silence she would then – definitely – ring out herself. Perhaps you would agree with me that we— men—would forget our mobile phones at home, or for that matter, at any place. That would often, more or less, happen to me, but it would never happen to a woman. A woman is an enemy of silence. And if she is ever to keep silent that would only come to pass either in sleep or in… death. And women’s inexhaustible capacity for chattering and gossiping is what makes many of us, men, particularly married men, take resort to cafés such as this one, which, instead of being a place of escape and relief—as it has always been—is now becoming a Mecca for any Ahmad or Muhammad who is fond of hearing, propagating or even inventing hearsay and rumours. It is my view that al- Dungul’s rage, the most pained victims of which were Ibrahim, William and Jamal—the Café’s owner, has presented a golden windfall for both the regular and irregular chatterboxes of this café’s clientele. Al-Dungul’s annoyance and rage would be quite justifiable, given his son has disappointed him in one of his dearest hopes and dreams., but what couldn’t be swallowed or accepted, is, indeed, the idiocy and foolhardiness which were associated with his hastiness and—even— his misunderstanding. That is my opinion, anyway—I do not necessarily wish you to adopt it— perhaps it has not been appropriate for me to spell it out. Your benevolence should—then—make you forgive me. But al-Dungul—apart from that—is, indeed, a good man. He is a person not one of us—including yourself, I think—would ever doubt for his bigheartedness, gallantry, bounteousness and charitable passions. I have said before that you are a good man, oh dear Salih,1 just as your name indicates. But your chronic weakness resides in your being not quite able to master the hasty reactions of your actions. And they do, sometimes, turn into an awfully harmful folly, not to others alone, but to yourself above all. That was some of what I reiterated to him when I went to see him for a quiet chat. I had intended to so relieve the shock he had experienced that he would be able to remedy some of the negative consequences his hasty reactions had brought about. For such reactions were not, in fact, supported by any proof’ but rather they were built on an impulsive interpretation of what William had said. You would better off to ask William himself to repeat to you what he has already related to others. Also there, beside myself, was Ibrahim who, like myself, would testify to the fact that William did not say what 1 Salih means good in Arabic. 2 has been understood by al-Dungul’s ear. At the end of my talk, with al-Dungul, I appealed to him to reconsider his son’s choice, even if he would prefer not to do so. It is clear that we—contrary to what we would do back home—do not have any final say here; not only in our sons’, but even also in our women’s, education. This is a reality which is not just regretful, but it’s painful as well. Looking from this side of things, one can appreciate al-Dungul’s agony. Nonetheless, I do consider al-Dungul—despite this fatal shock and frustration—better in luck than others amongst us. (I do not hereby wish to name names). For Mazin, his son, has not only been successful in his school studies but he is also an athletic boy. He has merely got involved with a line of sport his father doesn’t like. We also, to tell the truth, were, and are, not so enthusiastic or appreciative of such a line.

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