The Road Not Taken: Isḥāq Mūsā al-Ḥusseini and His Chickens · 255
to her: they do not exceed the usual in the lives of chickens.”
2
When I
visited Dr. al-Ḥusseini in 1979 at his home in Jerusalem for the interview
mentioned above, he took me to his backyard and showed me where the
chicken coop used to be. He repeated with much grace the same words
about the hen and told me that he used to feed his chickens every day by
himself and that he loved observing them for hours.
Toward the end of her story, the hen tells how suddenly, one day, a
family of outcast chickens was thrown inside their chicken coop. By that
time all the other adult chickens had been taken away from the place,
and there remained only the children of one of the hens, a young genera-
tion to which our narrator became spiritual mother and educator. The
heroine-hen tells of the opposition to these new invaders by the young
hotheads in the now-crowded chicken coop and of the frictions between
the two groups. “There is no space in our shelter for all of us,” says the
leader of the hotheads. “We have two options: either give up our shelter,
or else hold on to it and chase the foreigners out.” The youngsters quickly
decide on the second option, shouting, “This is the just way!”
3
The wise
hen describes how she came to the decision to settle things in peaceful
ways rather than by force. She then sends the youngsters away to preach
her message of peace and harmony to the world, and she stays with the
new
arrivals, trying to create a life of peace and harmony.
The novella was seen by many as a parable of a solution to the greatest
problem that has beset the Middle East for decades and does not seem
to go away even now—the Arab-Israeli conflict. Al-Ḥusseini’s solution,
however, is “the road not taken,” neither by his fellow Palestinians, nor
by the Jews, nor, I fear, even by the author himself. Perhaps it was too
optimistic, perhaps too unlucky. The novella and the author, though,
received much attention. This should not come as a surprise, since Dr.
Isḥāq Mūsā al-Ḥusseini was one of Jerusalem’s best-known intellectuals:
born in Jerusalem in 1903 or 1904 to the established and respected fam-
ily of al-Ḥusseini, one of the ruling elite of the Arabs in Palestine at the
time, he received his primary and secondary education in Palestine and
continued to his higher education in Egypt, where he came under the
influence of the great intellectual leaders of the era, such as Ṭāhā Ḥussein
(Ḥusayn), Manṣūr Fahmī, and Aḥmad Zakī.
4
He completed his academic
studies in London, where he received in 1934 a doctoral degree in the
School of Oriental Studies at London University under Professor H.A.R.
Gibb.
256 ·
Hanita Brand
By the time he published
Memoirs of a Hen, Dr. al-Ḥusseini was back
in Palestine, working as a lecturer at the Dār al-Mu῾allimīn teachers’ col-
lege and as the British government’s chief inspector for the teaching of
Arabic in Palestine. After the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948,
al-Ḥusseini left the country, moving first to Lebanon and then to Egypt,
where he lectured, among other places, at the American University. He
was elected a member in various Arab scholarly academies in Egypt
and Iraq, including al-Azhar’s Academy for Islamic Studies. In 1952 al-
Ḥusseini moved to Canada and accepted a post at McGill University in
Montreal. Under the Israeli Law of Family Unification, he returned in
1973 to Jerusalem with his wife and lived there until his death in 1990 at
the age of 87.
As for
Memoirs of a Hen, its history was no less complex than the life of
its author. For Arab critics, it looked defeatist, since the hen sends away
the young generation to preach to the world the sermon of peace and har-
mony she has taught them and stays alone with the new arrivals in the
chicken coop. Against these accusations, George Kanazi (=Jūrj Qanāzi῾),
professor in the Department of Arabic Language and Literature at Haifa
University, wrote an essay in which he emphasized the utopian nature
of the work and its educational purposes. As early as 1943, al-Ḥusseini
advised his readers to “think well of this humble creature, and soar with
her for a while in an ideal universe, free from any hatreds and feuds.”
5
Kanazi justly reiterates this classification of the book in 1981 and further
elaborates: “
Memoirs of a Hen is indeed a book containing a humanis-
tic philosophical idea whose aim is reforming human society in general,
through personal reformation. Thus it constitutes an unmistakable call
for changing the [prevailing] educational and cultural systems, so that
the next generations are raised on the love of truth, virtue, and righteous-
ness.”
6
Kanazi finds these characteristics to be proof of the readers’ and
critics’ mistakes in their interpretations of the novella as pertaining to the
Middle East conflict: “Unfortunately,” he writes in the critical introduc-
tion to his translation of the work, published in 1999, “the book was mis-
interpreted and misunderstood from the very beginning, and as a result,
its evaluation was basically negative.”
7
I do not think this last conclusion
is validated by the text.
Over half a century later, I would like to take this story and do some
justice to it, not only in terms of its political message and as an interesting
The Road Not Taken: Isḥāq Mūsā al-Ḥusseini and His Chickens · 257
literary genre but also as a cultural document, expressing a moment in
Middle Eastern history where, justifiably or not, mental roads still seemed
open, curiosity for the “Other”—with all its misunderstandings—per-
sisted, and people could still dream. If the political road today seems
to lead us all in an entirely different direction, to an entirely different
solution, the attitude and atmosphere that
Memoirs of a Hen created is
something we urgently need nowadays.
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