Introducing the book of strangers and a native boy by Ahmad Mahmoud
The book The Strangers and the Native Boy is the fifth and sixth collection of stories by Ahmad Mahmoud, which has been published in one volume.
“Strangers and the Native Boy” by “Ahmad Mahmoud” is actually a combination of two collections of short stories entitled “Strangers” and “Native Boy”, which have been presented to the audience together this time. The tone of the stories is easy and fluent, and “Ahmad Mahmoud” writes indigenous as well as ideological stories, but he is a writer who does this far from prejudice. In other words, he merely narrates the story and leaves it to the audience to judge the characters of his stories.
As mentioned, this book is a combination of two collections, and the first collection entitled “Strangers” has a story of the same name, as well as two other stories entitled “Blue Sky” and “Together”. In the story of “Strangers”, we are faced with a land that has been devastated by drought and famine.
This low rainfall and drought has done something with the land that can not be expected to produce, and this has forced the locals and brave men to work for “strangers”.
The second series, called “Native Boy”, includes stories entitled “Our Small Town”, “Landscape”, “House on the Water”, “On the Road”, “Tenants”, “When I Am Alone, No And the story of the “native boy.” The stories of “Ahmad Mahmoud” are known for the mournful sound of the situation full of the suffering of the workers and the smell of the oil-rich soils of the south and the toil of the people there. .
From the text of the book we read:
With the roar of cranes and eighteen cycles we jumped out of bed and it was just sunny when we went and sat in the shade of the wall and watched as the blue-clad workers, in white iron helmets that reflected the sun, were trapped. The clamps ate wool. As the sun set, it sucked in the cool of the morning.
Now the sugar-colored brick wall had cut the river away from us, and the yellow wound of the oil field behind our houses had warmed up and run through the alleys and two strings of bitumen pipes, like two male and female snakes, from the dense palm grove. He was crawling in the distance and came to a field and wooden bases rubbed with oil, like gallows, sitting in the big street of our small town and the gas stations were shaking on the wires…
And the night my father returned from the coffee house, his lips were drooping and he said to Khaj Tawfiq, who asked him, “What happened?” “They want to demolish their houses.
Other parts of the book Strangers and the Native Boy:
With the roar of cranes and eighteen cycles we jumped out of bed and it was just sunny when we went and sat under the shade of the wall and watched the blue-clad workers, in white iron helmets that reflected the sunlight, wander into the traps. They ate. As the sun set, it sucked in the cool of the morning.
Now the sugar-colored brick wall had cut the river from the cold, and the yellow wound of the oil field behind our houses had opened its head and run in the alleys and two strings of tarred pipes, like two male and female snakes, from the massive margin. There were creeping palms in the distance, and he had come to the field and the wooden pedestals rubbed with oil, like a hubby stick, were sitting on the big street of our small town, and the gaspets, the Russians were shaking … and the night my father returned from the coffee house . His lips were drooping and he said to Khaj Tawfiq, who asked him “what was it?”
Say … Tell me what do you see? I said: – Gunner, father … I see the gunner. Said the gunner? And he pushed, and split the congregation, and went forward. Suddenly I shouted and got on my father’s shoulder – my son? I said – Tefangchia squeezed my leg around the corpse of Nemat, the man standing next to my father. – The body of blessing? My father said – I said again – I put two sticks under his armpit … Someone said – What else? I said – holding it up and moaning in my throat, my father said – what happened?
I said, “My father is plastering. The sound was suffocated in my father’s throat.” – Yes, father … he reached his knees when my father shrugged his shoulders in the crowd and put pressure on him and pushed him forward and pushed him back. It was my father’s voice – I said – What can I say father? He said, “Tell me about his height and stature. My voice was shaking.” His shoulders were like a father’s… – The crowd came out of the hole and forced it from behind.
My father was pushed forward. Now the plaster had reached the base of Nemat. The gunmen attacked and drove away the crowd. My father sat back. It was my father’s hateful voice. Tell my son … Tell … Tell me how he died? And someone asked: – Is it true that he was shot in the abdomen? And my father said – why did he shut up? That cry in my throat broke – what happened my son? I said – Father … can not see him anymore – can not? – Now there is only one gypsum pillar between my father … a gypsum pillar … when my father became weak and sat back and until he was separated from the crowd, a cloudy mass had reached. The sky was dark and the soft rain had begun
2- Introducing the book Strangers and Native Boy in Aparat