Hanan al-Shaykh

The Electoral Circus

Translated from the Arabic by Catherine Cobham

It’s strange. As I follow the current American elections, I find myself thinking about elections in Lebanon. There were three occasions I looked forward to in Beirut when I was a child. The first was the lorry spraying water. As soon as we heard the roar of it in summer, we children rushed barefoot, yelling and shouting, to welcome it, so it could spray us with water as it sprayed the roads and pavements. The second was the feast days, so we could wear new clothes and go to the pinewoods in Beirut, where they put up swings and merry-go-rounds. The third occasion was the elections, when the walls were crowded with photos of the candidates, to which we added moustaches and big eyelashes, and when men in private cars came to our quarter and we followed them, thrilled by the fact that they had their own cars and smoked extravagantly and wore dark glasses, as they went around asking if there were any elderly or disabled people, or family members who were insane or recently deceased.

When the day of the elections came, our quarter witnessed a repeat of all the noise and commotion as the men arrived in their cars once more. We saw them carrying the old disabled woman who always used to curse us when we threw stones at her orange tree, although we had never actually seen her till then. And we saw them going in and out of the house we called the madhouse, because the daughter had lost her mind and been put in a mental hospital. (Later we heard they’d stolen her identity.) Then they brought a big bus to transport people from neighbouring quarters and ours to vote for their candidates.

When I became old enough to vote, I made my way to the designated place. It was like a huge medieval market with people buying, selling, shouting, threatening, and something that made me decide not to put my ballot paper in the box, a man standing in front of me chatting to his friend: ‘They paid us some money, and gave us a ballot paper that had already been filled in.’ Then he struck the seat of his trousers in a gesture of contempt and went on: ‘But I’m going to vote for the one I want’, and indicated the paper in his shirt pocket.

Now I’m wondering why I have the Lebanese elections on my mind as, along with the rest of the world, I follow the American presidential elections. Can I compare a little country like Lebanon with the giant United States, especially when the Lebanese elections are a thoroughly local affair, insignificant in the world as a whole, while the American elections are like the heart that keeps the world alive or lets it die? After all, America had a part in the making of Barack Obama, embraced his name and colour, recognized his merit, his learning and the hard work it has taken him to get where he is, and prepared him to be a presidential candidate, while if he had happened to grow up in Lebanon, these doors would not have been open to him. In fact, they would have been slammed in his face, and he would have remained on the margins of society.

Nevertheless, what’s going on in America now can only be described as a funfair or a circus. That’s what really terrifies me.

Hanan al-Shaykh is a Lebanese author of contemporary Arab women’s literature. A novelist, short-story writer, and playwright, she is one of the leading women writers in the Arab world. Her novels have been translated into many languages.