About Nahla
Thursday the 9th of February 2012I am a thirty-something Arab woman living in London. For over the past twenty-three years, I've come to feel at ease with this most welcoming city and I've wickedly indulged in a passionate love affair with it.
Like no other, London offers the space to be myself without judgment and freely engage with others. I grew up here and feel that I belong. It is also safe to conduct my quite search for knowledge and carve out a personal existential purpose and focus from the various substances I have to draw upon.
Part of these substances is that I was born and grew up in Tripoli, Libya until the age of eight. My parents made sure to impart our traditions and religious ways, so that I carry them with me. No matter how long I've been out of my home country, Libya lies deep in my psyche.
My Grandmother - Fatima
From the early years, I keep so many wonderful, colourful and fond memories of Tripoli. As a child, I remember our home, our neighbours and relatives. Even in dreams, they frequently appear. Most importantly, there was one special person who made all the difference and to whom I owe all of my love to - my grandmother Fatima.
In her most humble of ways, she taught me the value and worth of having an open heart and retaining an innocent spirit, no matter what life throws at you. She had many challenges in her time (losing her husband and four children and needing to work), but she always smiled and laughed and kept it in modest perspective.
Even though she had twenty-seven grandchildren, my maternal grandmother loved us all unconditionally with her warmth and affection. She imparted to us her gifts of patience, tolerance and wisdom by example. She never lost her temper and never told us off. But we respected her.
Memma Fatima was also a magical storyteller and the reason I came to love drama and narrative; advancing to a passion for reading books and novels. Although she couldn't read or write, her memory was that of a keen historian and her sense of metaphor and poetry were highly developed.
I was so lucky as a child with so many cousins to play with. On thousands of nights, when the parents were out, all of us would gather around her and listen as she relayed the tales. I just so regret not having recorded her. In total rapture, we listened as she would act out the voices and we would split from laughter.
After, we used to fight over her and compete to sleep in her massive bed with its fluffy pink satin pillows that she had made herself. I was so besotted never leaving her side and I loved to wear her clothes and jewelry. I got so attached that I got to running away from home to get to her house, which was only a ten-minute walk.
1984 - Overnight, my father's work as a chemical engineer meant we had to leave Libya. When they told me, I was traumatised to be cut away from all that was familiar and cried and cried. But ironically, over the years, Libya was to become more and more of the stranger.
We continued to travel, until 1988, when London was to become our semi-permanent home. It didn't help also that Libya was out in the cold. Its airports were closed and entry and exit were a nightmare. We got used to long stretches without contact or visit.
It has now been an extraordinary thirty years - with many good and bad things come to pass; - that I am someone other than the girl who would have stayed in Libya. Someone other than the girl who would have had to see the awful years imposed on the people by an awful regime. Where we the lucky ones who escaped then?
My Parents
My father took a big risk when we left Libya. Only now, I realize the real reasons for packing and taking us with him. The country was falling into an ugly phase and there was the menace of a cruel dictator who was robbing people of their homes, wealth and jobs and killing and spying on everyone. Things were uncertain for us children.
Very passionate and eager for life, he introduced us to the world. We spent our holidays travelling some more - by car, plane and boat - and visiting cities, museums, galleries, churches and monuments. He wanted to teach us to adapt quickly to life and change. His mantra was always to opt for adventure, never judge others, act intelligently and retain humility.
We had no idea we would lose him to cancer so early. I still miss him, but remember his thirst and hunger for knowledge and wanting to always better himself and even stretch himself to the limit.
The other major influence, without a doubt, is my mother. Although out of the four siblings, I am most like her in temperament; I am also most unlike her in terms of my ideas and beliefs. From a sheltered female generation, she is an introvert and homely spiritual person. With her role to emphasise religion and pass on the conservative traditions of our culture.
On the positive side, she instilled in us the fear of doing wrong, the necessity to do right and consult with one's ethical and moral compass. For her, the soul is to be purified and the selfish ego overcome with prayer and fasting. Her heart is big, honest, generous and strong; but my mother never engaged with the West and never accepted its liberal philosophy.
So, growing up, I felt stuck between two different worldviews. I confess both the need and desire to be free and take on my intellectual, psychological and emotional rights without guilt; but also, I fear erring on the side of religion, as I feel under a pressure to conform and act correctly for an Arab Muslim culture.
This caused me so much grief over the years. I just wanted to meet, compromise and negotiate my two aspects. In my teens, I was so upset and troubled as I felt I couldn't participate with my peers. I was repeatedly admonished and indoctrinated that "we" and "them" are different and never will be the same.
The strain of this got too much, that by the age of seventeen, I went into full rebellion mode to fight my parents; doing all I was not supposed to do and doing it with anger, hurt, frustration and fear. But this deep inner struggle to balance my person only made me depressed, miserable and so very unhappy. Only now, I realize that I was not the first - nor will be the last - to undergo such an ordeal.
Sincerely, I suffered for the paradoxical truths. Still, I find it an incredible task to identity me, without taking into account this personal history. But it would be impossible to divorce oneself from the past and why should one deny the elements that make us unique. I accept now it is for my benefit and privilege to draw upon two metaphysical realities that can and do reconcile - at the very least in my being.
You will find this comparative element in my work. Nahla Ink is about sharing what it is like to be an Arab woman living in the West - and in this amazing city London! And how to enjoy and rise to the challenge of making two different cultures engage and learn from each other on the personal and impersonal levels too.
Without further ado, let's begin an honest exchange.
