Poem 8. Washing Away the Shame
A Poem to Commemorate International Women's Day, by Nazik Al-Malaika, translated by The Scholar
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[Standard Translation]
“Mother!” a gasp, tears, and darkness1
Blood gushed forth, and the stabbed body shook
And mud nested in the wavy hair2
“Mother!” and none heard her, save the executioner3
and tomorrow dawn will come and blossoms will wake
The twenty will cry out, and the enchanted hope4
The meadows and flowers will respond:
She departed from us…. washing the shame away5
And the savage executioner returns and meets the people
“Shame” and wipes his blade “we have shredded the shame”
“And returned virtuous, white in reputation, free”6
“Oh lord of the tavern, where is the wine, and where is the cup”7
“Bring forth the listless singer of fragrant breath”8
“For her eyes I would sacrifice the Quran and destiny”9
Fill your cups oh butcher
For the slaughtered woman [victim] of washing away the shame
And dawn will come and the girls will ask about her
“Wherever can she be” and the beast replies “we have killed her”
“A mark of shame on our foreheads we have washed away”
And the neighbours will tell of her dark story10
Even the date trees will recite it in the neighbourhood
Even the wooden doors won’t forget it11
Even the stones will whisper it
Washing away the shame, washing away the shame12
Oh women of the neighborhood, oh girls of the village13
We will knead the bread with the tears of our eyes
We will cut our braids and scald our hands14
So there clothing can stay white and pure15
No smile, no pleasures, no glance, for the blade16
Watches us from the grasp of our fathers and brothers
For tomorrow who knows which desert conceals us, washing away the shame17
Nazik Al-Malaika 1949
"أماه !" وحشرجة ودموع وسواد
وانبجس الدم واختلج الجسم المطعون
والشعر المتموج عشش فيه الطين
أماه!" ولم يسمعها الا الجلاد”
وغدا سيجيء الفجر وتصحو الأوراد
والعشرون تنادي، والأمل المفتون
فتجيب المرجة والأزهار
رحلت عنا… غسلا للعار
ويعود الجلاد الوحشي ويلقى الناس
"العار" ويمسح مديته " مزقنا العار"
"ورجعنا فضلاء، بيض السمعة أحرار"
"يا رب الحانة، أين الخمر؟ وأين الكاس ؟"
" ناد الغانية الكسلى العاطرة الأنفاس"
"أفدي عينيها بالقرآن وبالأقدار"
املا كاساتك يا جزار
وعلى المقتولة غسل العار
وسيأتي الفجر وتسأل عنها الفتيات
"أين تراها؟" فيرد الوحش قتلناها"
"وصمة عار في جبهتنا وغسلناها
وستحكي قصتها السوداء الجارات
وسترويها في الحارة حتى النخلات
حتى الأبواب الخشبية لن تنساها
وستهمسها حتى الأحجار
غسلا للعار…غسلا للعار
يا جارات الحارة، يا فتيات القرية
الخبز سنعجنه بدموع مآقينا
سنقص جدائلنا وسنسلخ أيدينا
لتظل ثيابهم بيض اللون نقية
لا بسمة، لا فرحة، لا لفتة فالمدية
ترقبنا في قبضة والدنا واخينا
وغدا من يدري أي قفارستوارينا غسلا للعار
1949 نازك الملائكة
[Translation With Romanization]
“Mother!” a gasp, tears, and darkness
"أماه !" وحشرجة ودموع وسواد
"Amāh!" wa hoshrajah wa dumu‘ wa sawaad
Blood gushed forth, and the stabbed body shook
وانبجس الدم واختلج الجسم المطعون
Wanbajas al-dam wa ikhtalaj al-jism al-mat‘oon
And mud nested in the wavy hair
والشعر المتموج عشش فيه الطين
Wa ash-sha‘r al-mutamawwij ‘ashsha fīhi at-ṭīn
“Mother!” and none heard her, save the executioner
"أماه!" ولم يسمعها الا الجلاد
"Amāh!" wa lam yasma‘hā illa al-jallād
And tomorrow dawn will come and blossoms will wake
وغدا سيجيء الفجر وتصحو الأوراد
Wa ghadan sa-yajī’ al-fajr wa taṣḥu al-awrād
The twenty will cry, and the enchanted hope
والعشرون تنادي، والأمل المفتون
Wal-‘ishrūn tunādī, wa al-‘amal al-maftūn
The meadows and flowers will respond:
فتجيب المرجة والأزهار
Fatajeebu al-marjah wa al-azhār
She departed from us…. washing the shame away
رحلت عنا… غسلا للعار
Rahalat ‘annā… ghaslan lil-‘ār
And the savage executioner returns and meets the people
ويعود الجلاد الوحشي ويلقى الناس
Wa ya‘ūd al-jallād al-wahshī wa yalqā an-nās
“Shame” and wipes his blade “we have shredded the shame”
"العار" ويمسح مديته "مزقنا العار"
"Al-‘ār" wa yamsah madīyatih "mazaqnā al-‘ār"
“And returned virtuous, white in reputation, free”
"ورجعنا فضلاء، بيض السمعة أحرار"
"Wa raja‘nā fuḍalā’, bayḍ as-sum‘ah aḥrār"
“Oh lord of the tavern, where is the wine, and where is the cup”
"يا رب الحانة، أين الخمر؟ وأين الكأس ؟"
"Yā rabba al-ḥānah, ayna al-khamr? Wa ayna al-kās?"
“Bring forth the listless singer of fragrant breath”
"ناد الغانية الكسلى العاطرة الأنفاس"
"Nād al-ghāniyah al-kaslā al-‘āṭirah al-anfās"
“For her eyes I would sacrifice the Quran and destiny”
"أفدي عينيها بالقرآن وبالأقدار"
"Afadī ‘aynayhā bil-Qur’ān wa bil-aqdār"
Fill your cups oh butcher
املا كاساتك يا جزار
Imlā’ kāsātak yā jazār
For the slaughtered woman [victim] of washing shame away
وعلى المقتولة غسل العار
Wa ‘alā al-maqtūlah ghasl al-‘ār
And dawn will come and the girls will ask about her
وسيأتي الفجر وتسأل عنها الفتيات
Wa sayati’ al-fajr wa tas’alu ‘anhā al-fityāt
“Wherever can she be” and the beast replies “we have killed her”
"أين تراها؟" فيرد الوحش قتلناها
"Ayna tarāhā?" Fayuraddu al-wahsh qutilnāhā
“A mark of shame on our foreheads we have washed away”
"وصمة عار في جبهتنا وغسلناها
"Wusmat ‘ār fī jabhatinā wa ghasalnāhā
And the neighbors will tell of her dark story
وستحكي قصتها السوداء الجارات
Wa sathkī qiṣṣatahā as-sawdā’ al-jārāt
And even the date trees will recite it in the neighborhood
وسترويها في الحارة حتى النخلات
Wa satarwīhā fī al-ḥārah ḥattā an-nakhlāt
Even the wooden doors won’t forget it
حتى الأبواب الخشبية لن تنساها
Ḥattā al-abwāb al-khashabīyah lan tansāhā
Even the stones will whisper it
وستهمسها حتى الأحجار
Wa sathamsihā ḥattā al-aḥjār
Washing away the shame, washing away the shame
غسلا للعار…غسلا للعار
Ghaslan lil-‘ār… ghaslan lil-‘ār
Oh women of the neighborhood, oh girls of the village
يا جارات الحارة، يا فتيات القرية
Yā jārāt al-ḥārah, yā fityāt al-qaryah
We will knead the bread with the tears of our eyes
الخبز سنعجنه بدموع مآقينا
Al-khubz san‘ajinuhū bidumū‘ ma’āqīnānā
We will cut our braids and scald our hands
سنقص جدائلنا وسنسلخ أيدينا
Sanaqquṣu judā’ilanā wa sanaslikhu aydīnānā
So their clothing can stay white and pure
لتظل ثيابهم بيض اللون نقية
Li-taẓallā thiyābahum bayḍ al-lawn naqiyyah
No smile, no pleasures, no glance, for the blade
لا بسمة، لا فرحة، لا لفتة فالمدية
Lā basmah, lā farḥah, lā laftah fal-madiyah
Watches us from the grasp of our fathers and brothers
ترقبنا في قبضة والدنا واخينا
Turaqibunā fī qabḍat wālidinā wa akhīnā
For tomorrow who knows which desert conceals us, washing away the shame
وغداً من يدري أي قفار ستوارينا غسلا للعار
Wa ghadan man yadri ayy qifār satawārīnā ghaslan lil-‘ār
[Scholars Comment]
Named after the Syrian rebel Nazik al-Abed, who was known as the "Joan of Arc of the Arabs" for fighting both Ottoman and Syrian colonialism in her native land of Syria, as well as being an early proponent of women's rights, it is no surprise that Nazik al-Malaika, the Iraqi-born poet and pioneer of free verse poetry, would pick up on the latter and begin a lifetime of advocacy for women's rights in her poems and her native land of Iraq.
Though many have heard or might have read her poem "Revolt Against the Sun," her poem "Washing Away the Shame" remains largely unknown both in Western and Eastern countries, including her home country of Iraq, where it was written.
"Washing Away the Shame," or "honor killing" as it is known in English, is the act of murdering a female relative by her family, which includes extended uncles, cousins, and other male relatives, who deem her actions as having tarnished the family's reputation or brought "shame" to the family name. The only way to "cleanse" the shame is by killing its occupant. This practice has been going on for decades in many third-world countries, including Iraq, the hometown of Nazik, who boldly addressed this custom in her poem, calling it out for the ludicrousness that it is.
With the passing of International Women's Day just this past Saturday, I have chosen a poem that discusses a deep issue still prevalent today, which unfortunately has not been resolved and seems to be progressing for the worse. Unfortunately, there is no video reciting this poem for the week (though I have included a romanization of the text), considering the poem is not well known. In her writing of "Washing Away the Shame," Nazik perfectly captured the lives of many women today: their fears, their oppression, their endings, and marked her stance against the violent acts of honor killings.
The word "وحشرجة" is very similar to the English noun "death rattle": a gurgling sound heard in a dying person's throat (Oxford Languages Dictionary). On its own, the word translates to a “rattle”, such as heard in the death rattle, or the rattling sound in a person's throat. To keep the flow of the poem, as no English word is an equivalent, it is translated as a gasp, a choke, or a lump in the throat. However, it should be kept in mind that these are the final breaths of the individual.
Just as in English, the word "المتموج" (the wavy) describes hair but has its roots in ocean waves. Two languages, both using the waves of an ocean to describe hair of the same caliber independently of each other, is incredible.
The Arabic word "جلاد" has its roots in the word "جلد" (skin) and is literally translated as "flogger"—i.e., the one who whips the skin. Due to the harshness of the term, it is now associated with actions that administer pain or death, in this case, the executioner.
The twenty could be referring to youth, the age of the women who is killed. In this context, the youth is crying out, so is the enchanted hope of the women, either in her process of dying, or in the flitting dreams and lost goals that are now gone.
"غسلا للعار" (washing the shame) is the act of killing to “protect” the family's honour and is usually carried out on a girl or a woman who is thought to have tarnished this honour.
"White in reputation" is a figure of speech used to imply a spotless reputation, free from any stains of “shame.”
This line is pure genius in Nazik’s work. There is no religious incentive behind the barbaric act, no matter how the executioner justifies it. He does not call to God, but to a bartender. By his own hands, he has killed, then reverted to wine (a forbidden drink) and deludes himself into thinking that what he did was honorable.
Another hypocritical act done by the executioner and often depicted in real-life cases: a man, so horrified by whatever “shame” a female relation has caused, seeks to murder her, but is okay with engaging with other women who, seemingly, do the same “shameful” acts. Hypocrisy at its finest.
The "crème de la crème" of the hypocritical trilogy: Here we have a man committing blasphemy (prohibited in every religion) for a woman, yet he thought it was okay to play God and end another’s life. Nazik was brilliant to keep this line in her poem.
The "neighbours" are women; however, no English equivalent exists, so they will remain as “neighbors” in this case.
The word "تنساها" (forget it) is feminine, which means the literal translation is "forget her." This makes one wonder: do the trees, stones, and doors refer to the story, or to the "her" in question?
In the English language, this refers to honor killings.
The word "جارات" actually translates to "female neighbors," or more accurately, "neighbouresses." The term "neighbouresses" is now obsolete, and the term "neighbors" would have to stand in its place. However, in this particular sentence, the gender of the neighbors is more important than their being neighbors, thus the word "women" was used instead.
The word "سنسلخ" (we will skin) can also mean "we will scald," the act of burning one's skin with hot liquid, which fits better in this setting.
Just as with men’s clothing, which stays “white” and pure due to the efforts of the women, their honor as well is formed not of their own doing, but by that of the women. No longer do they have to brave wars to be honorable, as men once did. To be honorable for these men is to keep the women in constraints.
The phrase "لا لفتة" (no glance), which translates to "no glance," means more than what first meets the eye. "No glance" not only towards the blade, but left and right, any way other than straight, to emphasize the constraints placed on women, making them walk a constructed path not of their own accord. It could also mean not to be glanced at, not to be seen by the world, but rather to be hidden and erased altogether.
The word "ستوارينا" means to be hidden or concealed, but in this sentence, it implies more. To be hidden in the desert is to be buried. The form of concealment is a grave, which can only carry a corpse.
I love how poetry has been used a conduit for resistance and for recording the untold history of suppression of women. The power and timelessness of poetry!