Tareq Khaleel, and the Generation of Writers of the Ibada
Eons ago when I studied Third Year Spanish Literature at the University of La Laguna, our professor would during his long monologue in our class spoke of the conflict of generations, apparently – if memory serves me – a concept pushed out by the Irish philosopher George Bernard Shaw.[1] Basically, it was one of the indicators of the out with the old and in with the new, in literature and other fields. However, in literature this concept is really important as literature is, contrary to what many would believe, not limited to the world of humanities, but rather the fruit of everything deeply embedded in our culture.
In my Spanish literature class of the third year, my professor, Salvador, introduced to us (to me anyway, as I had not studied “bachillerato” in Spain, but rather “high school” in the US) to what generations were, how they differed, and how important they were for literature. But most of all, what great events, mostly cataclysms, started these generations. For instance, the Spanish generation of 98 (1898, with the likes of Juan Ramon Jimenez, Pio Baroja, Azorin, Miguel de Unamuno, etc.) was triggered by the defeat of Spain by the US in a war that lasted less than a year and saw the Spanish empire which had been around for close to 500 years reduced to less than 15% of what it was the year before. It was this collective trauma that brought about a literary fertility the likes of which influenced generations of Spanish and non-Spanish speakers.
The same can be seen in Arabic literature where we see collective disasters constitute that spark, that instance where something beautiful comes out of something dark. That spark, or that stone, thrown in a pond creating a splash with a ripple effect, where writers react the only way possible: through the pen. In the contemporary history of the Arab world, the series of tragic events with devastating effects which, simultaneously, were the reason for an incredible literary abundance.
The Nakba of 1948, the Naksa of 1967, the Intifadas from the 90s to the early 2000s, all of these catastrophes have created several generations of literary and philosophical geniuses including (and not limited to) Ghassan Kanafani, Mourid Barghouti, Mohamed Choukri, Nizar Qabbani, Taha Abdurrahman, Ibrahim Nasrullah, etc... and any expert in Arabic literature (which I do not count myself as) will realize I am not even close to scratching the surface. Contemporary Arabic poetry, prose, philosophy, all have to thank these tribulations for their being.
To the previously mentioned terms, Nakba, Naksa, and Intifada, I propose the coining of a new term which summarizes the horrors we have all been witnesses to, whether it is through our televisions or our smart phones: the “Ibada.” Although it is for Arabic writers and thinkers to decide, I believe this term “Ibada,” which is the Arabic term for genocide, will be one of the terms used by English speakers and thinkers to refer to events which have been occurring since October 7th, 2023 (even though, it is safe to say that what led up to the operation by Palestinian fighters implemented on 7 October 2023 began way before).
I can also say with a lot of certainty that this continuous horror, which has been befalling the Palestinian people and continues to transpire while I am writing these words is having the same effect the aforementioned catastrophes had on their respective generations.
One of the Palestinian writers I have been reading since the events of October 7th, 2023, has been Tariq Khaleel. A Palestinian writer originally from Gaza but currently residing outside of Palestine, Tariq - copiously affected by the Zionist entity’s indiscriminate killing of innocents - has been a continuous voice of vehement rally against the unfolding and continuous horror with the only weapon he has at his disposal, the pen. Normally, in an essay or any type of literary review, I would abide by chronology and describe the evolution of his work. Unfortunately, desperate times demand desperate measures, and I can only see myself pointing out certain characteristics of his current work, those elements that really stand out, conveying his anger and disgust of a world that sits by allowing the genocide to be continued by perpetrators who until now have only been held accountable on the battle field but continue their extermination thanks to unquestioned support of decadent colonial empires struggling to remain relevant in a world that has begun to wake up and shows no signs of backing down.
In one of his most recent writings titled “Exhaustion” (literally “My Exhaustion or My Fatigue”), we see a person, the writer himself, repeating a daily routine over the last few months of waking up totally distraught from the news or lack of from his family in Gaza, “...my family, decent people, dispersed and scattered by the war, from displaced to martyr.” He cannot even find repose in slumber, as he wakes up, throws on his shoulders “a poncho made of wool his father gave him” to ward off the cold remnant from the night before, and right away thinks about the people in Gaza “whose greatest wish has been reduced to getting something to eat, or finding something to cover them and protect them from the Winter...”
His writing over the last few months has changed dramatically in its topic, changing from when he would write about science, scientists, literature, feminist literature, philology, and of course politics, to only speaking about the continuous tragedy playing out in Gaza, where he can only echo the suffering of his people, or the pain at the sight of nations, linked to his people through blood and creed, on the side watching with eyes wide open, yet doing nothing:
“How is it a people, said to be the best of all peoples, accept what is befalling Gaza?! In fact, how is it they take the tragedy, pain, and suffering of its people, and turn them into a commodity through which they profit?! How is it they tolerate the debauchery of those who criticize its people describing them with the most malign expressions and filthiest names?! Here I have understood that we are a people, a nation that does not follow in the footsteps of Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, or his companions.”
It is safe to say that writers are often at their best during the worst times, and this can be said about Tariq, who already a well-established writer has really blossomed as a result of these horrific circumstances. And I apologize for using this term. Can a flower blossom in the middle of a war? His writing flows with pain, anger, sorrow, and burden, and he uses all of the tools the Arabic language provides him with to express what he feels. Like other writers of this time, he prefers brief interventions because he knows people do not want to spend their time reading. And this is where his talent lies. He gives you a whole detailed picture that stands on its own, even though it is connected with previous writings whether they be in prose or verse.
Tariq is not the only Arabic speaking writer out there expressing his own personal chronology of the Ibada in Gaza, there are others as well. And God willing, when the dust settles, we will see more and more writers who express themselves in Arabic, as well as other languages, a whole new generation, appear to give their account of the tragedy that befell Palestine while the world stood, watched and did nothing.
John Joseph Colangelo
Translator & Researcher
[1] Again, “if memory serves me” is my disclaimer, so please do not go after me if I did not get it right (which would not be the first time).
Welcome Home
An incredible sight to bear witness to is the jubilation of Palestinians who have finally been “allowed” to return to the North of Gaza, their land, and what remains of their homes, the destroyed roads, and devastated infrastructure. And despite this, despite the reigning physical destruction and desolation, it is incredible to see the joy that radiates from their eyes, their faces, the expression of euphoria of a people - forcibly separated from their land – finally returning.
This is just one of the manifestations, probably one of the most important, of the physical, spiritual and emotional bond of a people to their land. And if you ask any Palestinian in the diaspora what he or she would wish for, they would say without hesitation the return to their ancestral land, to Palestine, all of it.
The images of displaced Palestinians with tears in their eyes, picking up dirt and kissing it – the land that saw them come to this world – and praising their Lord at this moment of return, saying that today – in no uncertain terms – is the happiest day of their lives, is something that even resonates with TV viewers like myself.
Which brings me to say that I honestly believe that we, in the West, cannot even come close to imagining what this feels like for these people, people with physically absolutely nothing, who have lost everything (their homes, their families, anything close to a life as we understand it) against all odds, only with their hearts overflowing with conviction and the rock hard determination to claim back that which is rightfully theirs, what has always been theirs, handed down to them through countless generations, their homes, their land, sanctified, hallowed, consecrated with the spilled blood of tens of thousands of their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children, nieces, nephews, neighbors, friends...
And no illegal, so-called biblical claims to this land, by someone from Brooklyn or Poland, or even Morocco, nor any Israeli mercenaries or foreign death squads from abroad, or even US made 2000-pound bombs, will stop these people, or their progenies, from returning to what is legitimately theirs, to historical Palestine, from the Jordan Valley to the shores of the Mediterranean.
No, we in the West do not even come close to grasping how these people feel, that longing in their memories, that passion in their hearts, that fury to reclaim their ancestral home. And our total lack of empathy, not to mention our active participation in the killing, will be our undoing.
Only God Almighty knows what awaits these incredibly resilient people when they reach their destination, whether it is prosperity or poverty, life or even death, indubitably there is no other place in the world where they would rather be.
John Joseph Colangelo
Translator, Researcher, Writer
Doha, Qatar
28 January 2025
1. Reflections on the Translation of the First Revelation Descended upon the Holy Messenger (Divine Mercy & Peace Be upon Him)
The translation of the first encounter - and, subsequently, first Quranic revelation – between the custodian of the heavens, angel Jibril (Gabriel for non-Muslims), عليه السلام (peace be upon him), and prophet Muhammad, صلّى الله عليه وسلّم (Allah’s mercy and peace be upon him), is for a relatively experienced translator like myself (and I stress “relatively” as there are many excellent translators out there who exceed me by far) a trip back to “translation school” where apparently simple words I have always translated from Arabic into English in a specific context in a certain way, are not so simple.
And despite the fact that the translation of the Quran has been addressed by many, I am not so sure that we have found that perfect translation out there where we can finally declare victory and say with confidence that no more work needs to be done. [i]
The fact is, I felt it was necessary to do my own translations of the Quran based on tafsirs, Arabic dictionaries, and Arabic English lexicons in order to extract my own English version of any Quranic text that needed translation.
Most students of knowledge or طلاب علم from the West, and Muslims in general know the story of when Prophet Muhammad, صلّى الله عليه وسلّم, was surprised by Angel Jibril, عليه السلام, while isolating himself in the cave of Ḥirā’ in Makkah in seclusion and worship. And we also know the first word of revelation that the angel said to the messenger while the latter was in a state of astonishment, the order: اقْرَأْ /iqra’/.
اقْرَأْ transcribed /iqra’/ is the singular masculine imperative of the verb قَرَأَ /qara’a/ which literally means ‘he read’. [ii]
To see this incident a little more clearly, let us delve into the situation as explained by the late great Quranic scholar Muhammad Ali al-Sabouni, may Allah have mercy on his soul, in the latest edition of his guide to understanding the sciences of the Holy Quran, التبيان في علوم القرآن /al-Tibyān fī ‘Ulūmi al-Qur’ān/ “An Exposition of the Sciences of the Quran”. [iii] The prophet, divine mercy & peace be upon him, is in the cave of Ḥirā’ in Makkah where he usually spends his time in solitude and worship, and it is during his prayers that the angel Jibrīl appears before him and commands him with the imperative اقْرَأْ, which we will translate for now as ‘Read’. To which the prophet responds to him مَا أَنَا بِقَارِئٍ, which we will translate as ‘I do not read’.
Sheikh Muhammad Ali clarifies right away the meaning as: أي : لستُ أعرف القراءة “Id est: I do not know how to read.” This exchange between the angel and the prophet goes back and forth twice and on the third time is when the angel says:
اِقْرَاْ بِاسْمِ رَبِّكَ الَّذ۪ى خَلَقَۚ ١
خَلَقَ الْاِنْسَانَ مِنْ عَلَقٍۚ ٢
اِقْرَاْ وَرَبُّكَ الْاَكْرَمُۙ ٣
اَلَّذ۪ى عَلَّمَ بِالْقَلَمِۙ ٤
عَلَّمَ الْاِنْسَانَ مَا لَمْ يَعْلَمْۘ ٥
When I went through this dialogue between the Angel, the bearer of revelation, and the holy Prophet, after some reflection, I noticed the slight translation challenge presented by the first time the angel said اقْرَأْ and when the prophet replied مَا أَنَا بِقَارِئٍ.
When the angel appears before the messenger, and he gives him the translated directive to ‘read’, the question that comes to mind is: Ok, where is the book, or paper, or scroll, etc.? Because ‘read’ in English implies from some written text, right? And there is nothing in this scene that would indicate the presence of written material in the hands of Jibril that he would hand over to the messenger, had he meant ‘Read’. Therefore, we can say with confidence that the translated directive of the Angel would be something to the effect of ‘recite’. Subsequently, the translated answer of the Messenger into English would have to be something other than ‘I do not read or know how to read’.
It is worth remembering that one of the issues we have to contend with in the Arabic language are the numerous terms for one concept such as is the case of the number of nouns used to refer to ‘lion’ or ‘horse’, and a long line of other names. Another one is the semantic richness of its words. So, when we look at the Arabic definition of قَرَأَ in the famous Arabic dictionary المعجم الوجيز, we find the meanings of ‘recite, read’ and even ‘greet’ in the definition:
قَرَأَ الكتابَ يَقْرَأُ قِرَاءَةً: تتبَّعَ كلماتِهِ نظراً، ونَطَق بها أَو لم ينطِق. وقَرَأَ الآيةَ من القرآن: نَطَقَ بأَلفاظها، عن نظرٍ أو عن حِفظٍ. فهو قارئٌ (ج) قُرَّاءٌ. قَرَأَ عليه السلامَ قِرَاءةً: أَبْلَغَهُ إِيَّاه.
Thus, when the authors of the dictionary define قَرَأَ as
تتبَّعَ كلماتِهِ نظراً، ونَطَق بها أَو لم ينطِق
they mean ‘read’.
And when they add another definition in the context of the Quran as
نَطَقَ بأَلفاظها، عن نظرٍ أو عن حِفظٍ
they are referring to recitation.[iv] In the first definition, قَرَأَ requires the subject to follow the written word with his or her eyes, whereas in the second definition the subject is pronouncing the words out loud while looking at them - who would then be a reader - or by heart, which a person who is illiterate could do.
Therefore, with respect to the prophet’s answer to the angel’s imperative, I as a native English-speaking translator would be more inclined to use the term ‘illiterate’. Yet, as a native English speaker, I also “feel” the negative connotation – at least for me – of using a term I feel is unbecoming of the holy messenger, divine mercy & peace be upon him. Consequently, I would prefer a term like ‘unlettered’ instead of ‘illiterate’. Therefore, when the angel repeatedly commands the messenger to recite, اقْرَأْ, or ‘Recite’, my rendition of the messenger’s مَا أَنَا بِقَارِئٍ would be ‘I am unlettered’.
This is not a definitive solution but rather a reflection and might require some teamwork especially among native English-speaking translators of Arabic and their feedback.[v]
John Joseph Colangelo
Translator, Researcher, Writer
Doha, Qatar
19 February 2025
[i] This conclusion of mine is the result of comparing a translation I considered to be the real deal – in fact it is quite frankly an excellent translation by a prominent Islamic scholar who is a native speaker of English who has spent many years in the Arab-Islamic world, has authored many other translations and studies in English, and spent 17 years working on this translation with a scholar of the Holy Quran. When I compared this person’s translation of a specific āyah of the Holy Quran, to the tafsir, or explanation, of the same āyah by an even more renowned Syrian scholar, who recently passed away, and saw an important difference in the understanding of the āyah, I realized the search for the perfect translation was still ongoing.
[ii] It is worth noting that when looking for verbs in the Arabic dictionary, they are usually laid down as follows: Past Simple (third person singular masculine), present simple (third person singular masculine), followed by the most important masdars or verbal nouns in accusative case, or manṣūb. Hence: قَرَأَ يَقْرَأُ قِراءَةً.
[iii] Publisher & Distributer: Dar al-Siraj, second edition: 2021, page 22.
[iv] And with the definition قَرَأَ عليه السلامَ قِرَاءةً: أَبْلَغَهُ إِيَّاه we can see قَرَأَ meaning ‘to greet someone with assalaam alaikum.
[v] Out of curiosity, I wanted to see how the more famous translators of the Quran rendered the term اقْرَأْ. I consulted two translations I have at home, an English translation by Sheikh Nuh Ha Mim Keller, who uses ‘Recite’,[v] and the Spanish translation of Abdel Ghani Melara Navio, who uses ‘Lee’ a perfect translation in Spanish of ‘Read’.[v]
I also went to the Quranic Arabic Corpus website and consulted the English renditions of the Quran they have there which are seven. Hence, I referred to eight translations in all, seven in English and one in Spanish.
The Sahih International translation which reads the first verse: ‘Recite in the name of your Lord who created-’
The Meaning of the Glorious Koran by Marmaduke Pickthall which reads: ‘Read: In the name of thy Lord Who createth,’
The Holy Qur’an translated by Abdullah Yusuf Ali, which unlike the other translations reads: ‘Proclaim! (or read!) in the name of thy Lord and Cherisher, Who created-’
The Holy Qur'an translated by Shaikh Muhammad Sarwar: (Muhammad), read in the name of your Lord who created (all things).
The Holy Qur’an translated by Muhammad Muhsin Khan which reads: ‘Read! In the Name of your Lord, Who has created (all that exists),’
The Koran Interpreted, a translation of the Qur'an by Arthur John Arberry reads: ‘Recite: In the Name of thy Lord who created,’.
