The woman triumphs over the allegory

Though set in Egypt, the world of the novel is alarmingly familiar Title: Zaat Author: Sonallah Ibrahim Translator: Anthony Calderbank Publisher: The American University in Cairo Press Pages: 345 First published twenty years ago in Arabic, Sonallah Ibrahim's novel tells the story of Zaat, a middle-aged Egyptian woman who plods through life as best she can in a society aggressively shaped by politics, consumerism and corruption. Cleverly combining journalism and fiction, the chapters alternate between Zaat's experiences and snippets of news, advertisements and descriptions of photographs published in the media, detailing life in contemporary Egypt. Ironic Zaat (the word means ‘self' or ‘identity' in Arabic) is unremarkable in terms of talent or personality. She settles for a life with a pompous man who sees her largely as “merchandise” whose main purpose is to operate the “hatchery”. With nothing interesting to say at her workplace, where “transmission” is a constant competition, a husband who turns out to be unremarkable himself and is losing a battle against an ever-expanding backside, the only place where Zaat can truly express herself is the bathroom, “the refuge of tearful withdrawal”. Ineffective, inconsequential, and ignored, the irony is that Zaat is never allowed to exist as an individual, boxed in by a patriarchal society and manipulated for others' benefit. Idea of the self In Zaat, the public relentlessly invades the private, and a sense of the larger picture is neatly conveyed in the titbits of news and information framed within the novel's narrative. They tell tales of corruption, mismanagement and deliberate harm to the people of Egypt, forming a powerful onslaught that threatens to engulf the rest of the novel. How can the story of an unimpressive woman compete with reports of police excesses, growing privatisation of essential services, pesticide firms testing their products on children, or the massive debt trap that Egypt is drawn into by American aid? Preserving the idea of the self appears to be an almost impossible endeavour, forever locked in battle with events that reveal a nation in flux. Open ended Though Sonallah Ibrahim presents the reader with several options for a beginning, the novel has no real end. Nothing is resolved; the news clippings don't achieve narrative coherence, and the chapters on Zaat point to no conclusion. The novel is brutal and bleak, but is written with a sense of mischief, presenting the world that Zaat lives in as both horrible and funny. And while the novel is deeply concerned with gender and the individual, it is also a book about the limits of journalism and fiction, searching perhaps for a way out in the fusing of the two. You may find that Zaat has a funny effect on you: although it is set in Egypt, the world of the novel is alarmingly familiar, and the more you read, the names of Egyptian politicians, business people and religious figures are effortlessly replaced by Indian ones. Zaat's life is also deeply recognisable: the piles of garbage, the struggles with domestic help, the struggle to cross a road in the midst of unruly traffic. But perhaps there is space for the self after all, however limited. In the end it is Zaat the woman, and not Zaat as allegory for Egypt, that finds her way into your heart.