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My Fulbright year is coming to an end, which means that it’s time to sift through my files for stories that haven’t made it onto the blog yet.  Today, I’ve excavated an interview with Noura al Badi, a successful poet and actress who grew up in Buraimi, an oasis town on the Omani-Emirati border, which was once embroiled in a territorial dispute between Saudi Arabia and Abu Dhabi.  Earlier this year, I met with Noura to discuss the role of poetry in Omani public life.  Whereas some of my interviewees have insisted that poetry is a private art form that should not be deployed for political purposes, Noura believes that poets have a moral and social responsibility to document the problems they witness and inspire readers to seek solutions to those problems.  In addition to publishing several collections of poetry, Noura has also acted in two Dubai-produced films.  Here are some excerpts from my interview with Noura, which was conducted in English at the hotel Funduq al Falaj in Ruwi.

Fjord Lord: I’ve noticed that most of your poems are written in fus’ha (Modern Standard Arabic), as opposed to the Omani dialect.  What are the advantages and disadvantages of writing in formal Arabic?

Noura al Badi: I prefer to write in fus’ha because it can be understood by all Arabs, not just Omanis.  I want to reach the widest possible audience, and I cannot do that if I only write in a local dialect.  But I occasionally write poetry in amiya (Omani dialect) to appeal to my Omani readers.  I have to give [readers] what they want, and some of them prefer colloquial language.

FL: You mentioned that you like to reach a wide audience.  Is there a big audience for poetry in Oman?  Are young people as interested in literature as the older generations?

NB: The audience for classical Arabic poetry is declining, unfortunately.  But, the audience

When Omani poet Noura al Badi noticed that the demand for written poetry was declining, she started distributing her work on audio CDs.

for folk poetry (poetry written in the Omani dialect) is increasing.  Many folk poets write their poems as songs, and this appeals greatly to younger Omanis.  When I noticed this trend, I started recording my poetry on audio CDs.  If people stop reading, you have to start making CDs.  That’s how you force people to listen to you.”

FL: And what is it that you want to tell people with your poetry?

NB: I write what I am feeling — about myself, about society, about politics, about war.  The poetry comes from inside of me, like a waterfall of the soul.  It is impossible to control or regulate.  When I write, I feel as if I am craving something but I don’t know what.  I can see the faintest contours of it in my imagination, but it is only through writing that I can finally capture the image or experience.  Poets always use their imaginations, but they should never be isolated from the world around them.  When Baghdad was bombed (in 2003), I cried over all of the damaged museums and lost heritage.  It killed me to see all of this destruction on the news.  I couldn’t sleep for three nights, and on the third night the poem came.  It was published on the homepage of Az-Zamn, an Iraqi e-newspaper and stayed there for weeks after the invasion.

FL: Your poetry addresses international events and crises like the Iraq war, but you don’t seem to write about Omani politics or local issues.  Why is this?

NB: There’s no need to write about the political situation in Oman, because the country is so stable. Everything is handed to us on a golden platter, and we don’t have to fight for any of it.  To have a father (the Sultan) willing to give you everything before you even ask for it — Now that is a gift from God!  As an Omani woman, I have so many rights and privileges.  There is really nothing to complain about, and when I write poems about Oman, they are only full of praise.  I work in the Ministry of Education, and I am paid as much as my male colleagues.  If I am better than a man, I am put in charge of him.  At work, I supervise men and they don’t mind working under me because they are so used to it.  His Majesty supports women, and now everyone else must do the same.

FL: Has this always been the case, or was there a time when you felt discriminated against as a woman?

NB: In the past, things were not so easy.  I grew up in Buraimi, and to be honest, the town was not ready for me.  I was twenty years ahead of my time, and there were a lot of narrow-minded people who did not want to see me succeed.  I married too young, at the age of fifteen.  I became a wife and a mother too early in my life, and I felt trapped — unable to achieve my dreams.  Poetry became an outlet for my frustrations.  At that time, I wrote a poem about the sea, because I was jealous of its freedom.  That’s when I realized that the only way out was divorce.  Later, I married again, to a man who supports my career and my ambitions.  He is not afraid of my opinions, and I am not afraid to speak freely.  If you don’t respect my individuality, you will feel the fire of volcanos in your face!

FL: Speaking of free speech, I’ve noticed that some poets write under pseudonyms.  Have you ever used a pseudonym?

NB: No, I’ve always used my own name, since I first started writing in the 1990s.  If I’m shy about saying something, then I don’t deserve to be a poet.  It’s true that there are some taboo subjects like sex and religion, and it is difficult to talk about these issues in a conservative society.  But I often use metaphors to say things indirectly.  The beauty of poetry is in its symbolism.

FL: Does poetry have a value other than beauty?  What role should poets play in contemporary society?

NB: Good poetry should make people aware of social and political issues.  If poetry doesn’t carry a cause, then it’s useless.  Sometimes I feel like I am carrying the burdens of the world on my shoulders like a heavy corpse.  I write poetry to relieve some of the burden.  It is not easy to write about weighty issues like war, but we have to do it.  Otherwise, the words are empty.

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