Raduan Nassar: Ancient Tillage

‘It’s pure selfishness, the natural result of immaturity, to think only of the fruit when planting, the harvest isn’t the greatest reward for those who sow; in planting, we have enough gratification knowing that our lives are meaningful, the glory is found in the mere enjoyment of the long gestation period, which is already something valuable we hand down to future generations, if, indeed, we hand the waiting down to future generations, for there is intense pleasure to be found in faith itself, just as there is warmth in the stillness of a bird brooding over eggs in its nest. And there can be so much life in a seed, so much faith in the hands of the planter; it’s a sublime miracle that seeds scattered in past millennia, although they have not germinated, have still not died.’

‘Father, no one lives on sowing alone.’

‘Of course not, son, if others are to reap what we’ve sown today, we now reap what’s been sown before us. That’s how life goes on, such is the current of life.’

‘And I’m already disenchanted with it, I now know the capacity of this current; those who sow and don’t reap, nonetheless, reap what they haven’t planted; and I haven’t had my share of that legacy, Father. Why keep pushing the world forward? My hands are already tied, I’m not going to choose to bind my feet as well; that’s why I really couldn’t care less which way the wind blows, I don’t see what difference it makes, it doesn’t matter whether things move forward or backward.’

‘I don’t want to believe in the little I understand of what you’re saying, son.’

‘You can’t expect a prisoner to serve happily in the jailer’s house; by the same token, Father, it would be absurd to demand a loving embrace from someone whose arms we’ve amputated; the only thing that makes less sense is the wretchedness of the maimed person who, lacking hands, applauds his torturer with his feet; or perhaps to be as patient as the proverbial ox that, in addition to the yoke, begs to have the oxbow tightened. The ugly person who cedes to the handsome only becomes uglier …’

‘Go on.’

‘The poor man who applauds the rich man only becomes poorer; the small man, smaller for applauding the great; the short man, shorter, for applauding the tall, and so on. Whether or not I’m immature, I will no longer recognize values that crush me, I consider it a sad game of make-believe to live inside other people’s skin, nor do I understand how there can be nobility in the mimicry of the destitute; the victim crying out in favour of his oppressor makes himself a prisoner twice over, unless of course it’s the cynical enactment of a bold pantomime.’

‘Everything you’re saying is very strange.’

‘It’s a strange world, Father, which only unites by dividing; built up on accidents, there is no self-sustaining order; there’s nothing more spurious than merit, and I wasn’t the one who planted that seed.’

‘I don’t see how these things are related, and even less, why you’re so worried about them. What are you trying to say with all this?’

‘I’m not trying to say anything at all.’

‘My son, you’re terribly disturbed.’

‘No, Father, I’m not disturbed.’

‘Who were you talking about?’

‘No one in particular; I was only thinking of hopeless cases, where there’s no cure, of those who cry out in passion, thirst and solitude, who are moaning with good reason; I was thinking only of them.’

‘I want to understand you, son, but I don’t understand anything any more.’

‘I’m mixing things up as I speak, I’m familiar with these digressions, the words are carrying me, but I’m lucid, Father, I know where I contradict myself, where I might be out of line, or even overstepping myself, and if there’s chaff in all of this, let me reassure you, Father, there are also plenty of whole grains. Even when I’m confusing, I’m not lost; for my own use, I’m able to distinguish the various threads of what I say.’

‘But you purloin the meaning from your father.’

‘I’ve already said I don’t believe in discussing my problems, I’m also convinced it’s extremely dangerous to shatter intimacy; to me, the larva is only wise while spun in its nucleus, I don’t see where it gets its strength once it breaks through the cocoon; it wriggles, of course, and goes through a metamorphosis, all with great effort, only to expose its fragility to the world.’

‘Rectify your slovenly point of view: it takes strength to face reality; and furthermore, this is your family, you would have to be insane to consider this environment hostile.’

‘Strong or weak, it depends: reality isn’t the same for everyone, and you cannot ignore the fact, Father, sir, that the unfertilized egg doesn’t hatch; time is abundant and generous, but it cannot revive the unborn; for those defeated at the outset, for fruit withered at seed, for the downtrodden who haven’t ever stood up, there is but one alternative: to turn their backs on the world, to nurture the hope that everything will be destroyed; in my case, all I know is, any environment is hostile, insofar as the right to live is denied.’

‘You shock me, son, although I don’t understand you, I understand your nonsense: there is no hostility in this house, no one here denies you the right to live, it’s absolutely inadmissible that such absurd thoughts cross your mind!’

‘That’s one point of view.’

‘Refrain from your customary impudence, don’t answer in such a manner as to cause me pain. It is not a point of view! Each of us knows our purpose in this household: your mother and I have always lived for you all; you and your brothers and sisters, for each other, no one in need has ever lacked for support in this family.’

‘Father, sir, you didn’t understand me.’

‘How could I understand you, son? You’re stubborn in your denial, and I don’t understand that either. Where could you ever find a more appropriate place to discuss the problems causing you so much distress?’

‘Nowhere, and even less likely, here; in spite of everything, our family life has always been precarious, there was never room for trespassing certain limits; Father, you yourself said only just now that every word is a seed: it contains life, energy and may even contain an explosive charge: we run great risks upon speaking.’

‘Don’t interpret my words with suspicion and levity, you know very well that you count on our love in this household!’

‘The love we’ve learned here, Father, I discovered only much, much later, knows not what it’s after; this indecision makes it of ambiguous value, at this point, no more than a mere hindrance; contrary to belief, love does not always unite, love also separates; and it would make perfect sense for me to state that love in the family may not be as grand as is commonly thought.’

‘That’s enough of your eccentricity, you’ve gone far enough, your observations are worthless, and your thoughts are chaotic, stop your arrogance, be simple in your use of words!’

‘I don’t think I’m being eccentric, although it no longer matters to me if I say this or if I say that; but since you think I am, what difference would it make if now I were to be as simple as the dove? If I were to lay an olive branch down on this table, you, sir, might only see a nettle stem.’

‘There’s no room for provocation at this table, that’s enough of your pride, control the snake beneath your tongue, ignore the devil murmuring in your ear, answer me as a son should, above all, be humble in your manner, be clear as a man should be, for once and for all, stop with this confusion!’

‘If I’m confusing, if I avoid making myself clear, Father, it’s only because I don’t want to create further confusion.’