What’s in a name? In his newest novel “Rin, revered Egyptian writer Gamal Al-Ghitani roams the landscapes of Upper Egypt in search for an answer to this stimulating question. The title, which means “name in Ancient Egypt, is a perfect embodiment of the theme of the author’s unusual, complex and non-linear narrative.
“Only the name is what remains of me, Al-Ghitani writes; “not just of me but of all beings; all roads, paths and directions; all what is planted and what is born; all what ends and what departs; all what lingers and what is plucked out. All this is nothing but names, and the stronger the name, the stronger the certainty, the solutions and the imagining of possibilities.
Winner of the Sheikh Zayed Book Award for Arabic literature, “Rin is a collection of anecdotes, contemplations and philosophical excursions connected via the author’s journey to countless different Egyptian cities. He ponders the cities’ names and the names of the relics he finds there – gods, historical figures and animals. He presents the reader with a highly enjoyable, highly personalized account of the history of these locations.
Starting from Akhmim, Al-Ghitani travels along the Nile bank, stopping at several spots such as Qus, Abydos to gaze at the ancient remains found in there. In some parts, he literally crosses the Egyptian borders to wander in places like Hadrmot, Yemen; in other ethereal sites like the Land of Punt, he lets his imagination soar to do the job.
At one point, he describes a journey of an Egyptian religious assembly to the land Punt where they used to travel every year to purchase aromatic resins, ebony, ivory and wild animals and to gather incense and myrrh trees that make up the religious sacraments prepared for the God Amon. In one such trip, Al-Ghitani tells us, a unique cultural interchange between the Egyptians and the Chinese took place, during which the Egyptians learnt the secrets of weaving silk. What did the Chinese take back in exchange? No one knows.
The realization of this idea is no less remarkable than the basic premise. The fineness and multiple dimensions of the writing come as no surprise considering the author’s status as a pillar of modern Egyptian literature.
Like most of Al-Ghitani’s novels, “Rin is incredibly dense, replete with both historical details and truly exquisite use of language. His method, at times, becomes so demanding that some may find reading more than 20 pages in one setting mentally daunting.
The emphasis of “Rin is on the author’s thoughts more than any standard set of actions that defines the vast majority of Arabic literature. Al-Ghitani’s personal philosophy of the far-reaching primality of names and words permeates every stream of consciousness that is transformed into words.
The Gospel of St. John commences with the following words: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Al-Ghitani nearly assigns a similar religious-like importance to words. “That which doesn’t have a name doesn’t exist; that have no presence, he writes. “True existence is memory, and what is memory but the understanding and the assembling of words.
Eastern philosophy is the guiding tenet of Al-Ghitani’s work. The method by which Al-Ghitani weaves his ideas illustrates a clear apathy for abstractions, choosing instead to root his thoughts into his surroundings. His journey can be viewed as a pursuit for apt definitions guided by our history; by the tales, traditions and heritage passed down to us through the channel of time.
What’s clearly Eastern about Al-Ghitani’s venture is his embracing of paradoxes, of opposing points of views that counter Western philosophy’s obsession with logic.
In one enlightening moment, Al-Ghitani questions our place in the cosmos. In the end, he recalls the words of the great Sufi poet Galal Al-Din Rumi: “Don’t ask about the center of the cosmos, you are the center of the Cosmos.
Throughout the novel, Al-Ghitani ponders the female form he finds all around him: From the earth to the temple of Hatshepsut with its distinctively feminine design. He ends his long journey with a homage to the female form embodied by Isis, the mother of all mothers: “In her dissociation is my annihilation, and in her union is the completion of the name, which is my pursuit.
It’s in this female image where life begins and ends; where Al-Ghitani’s circle is finally closed.
Here, names are not merely the condition of the possibility of verbal communication. There is a profound internal dimension to them. The resonance of a word, in a sense, encompasses the philosophy of a people. It’s a culture’s attempt to capture the soul of a being. It’s how human beings, doubtless in the recurring reality of life after death, attempt to preserve the impressions and the experiences they lived, to mummify their echo. A name is a loud cry for infinity, for immortality.
