Symphonyat al janoub

Ten-year-old Maryam watches heartbroken as her father, Hamed, leaves their hard-won peace in the South to return to their war-ravaged homeland in the North. As she waits, filling her days exploring the forest and climbing mango trees with her friends, Hamed navigates a city of ghosts, haunted by bitter memories and a grief he cannot escape.  Their two worlds collide again when a casualty of the very war Hamed fled—a broken, deranged man—shatters the innocence of Maryam’s sanctuary.
Told in a stunning chorus of a child’s hopeful wonder and a man’s anguished grief, Symphony from the South is a brilliant novel about the aftermath of conflict, the importance of truth, and the meaning of home.
Maryam, a young ten-year-old girl, watches her father leave. He is leaving her behind in the South, where they have spent the last few years in peace, and heading back North, their homeland. Maryam remains with her stepmother, the sweet and loving Mama Mandelad, and her baby half-brother, Yacoub—Jacob. As she waits for her father’s return, Maryam stays busy with her friends, Kiyomo, Shinoz, and a few others, exploring the forest, climbing trees, and helping in the fields.
Despite the peace and gentleness of the South, compared to the harsh North where all evil seems to originate, danger is never far away. The girls have upset “the donkey man,” as they call him—a deranged man, broken by the civil war, who will soon seek revenge. Meanwhile, Hamed reaches the city and starts searching for the remnants of his family. Confronting bitter memories and longing for those he once knew and loved, Hamed is haunted by the past, unable to grieve or free himself from his sorrow.
Symphony from the South is a polyphonic novel, told through the refreshing voice of Maryam and the anguished perspective of Hamed. Set in the aftermath of a civil war, the novel is less about the war itself and more about the damage it leaves behind. The horror of war is present in the background—in Hamed’s pain and the brutal memories of Lak Tanke (the donkey man)—but it is foreign to the children of the South, who try to make sense of these cumbersome tales of old.
Until tragedy strikes. Lak Tanke drowns one of the girls in a pond. Ancestral tribal ways are invoked, and Maryam is called to testify. Under immense pressure, aware of the consequences of her testimony, the once-foreign girl from the North speaks the truth. Lak Tanke is punished and dies.

In many ways, Symphony from the South is a story of homecoming. During this year of waiting for her father—who will never return—Maryam learns about life, friendship, truth, and justice. She also understands why it matters for the truth to be known, even if Lak Tanke’s death will not bring Shinoz back. It is because this place has become Maryam’s newfound home. A place where wrongs must be righted, so she can look at Shinoz’s parents without guilt. While Maryam finds salvation in the welcoming embrace of her Southern village, where she finally feels she belongs, Hamed is devoured by his demons. There is no homecoming for him in a place so deeply scarred by conflict.
With its beautifully balanced polyphony, Symphony from the South offers a dual tale: the brightness of the South and the darkness of the North; the soft, fertile southern land and the hard, sterile city concrete. Though the weight of war bears on the Southerners, they are healing, loving, and hopeful. In contrast, even if the conflict has ended, the Northerners are still ground down by power plays, gang violence, and hunger.
The beautiful voice of Maryam is, no doubt, what elevates the book above the darkness. A wise, smart, sensitive, and hopeful girl, she sees the magic of the world and communicates it to the reader in the most touching, simple, yet profound words. A celebration of ancestral African tribal values and ways of life in the face of modern power struggles, Symphony from the South is a unique contribution to Arabic literature. At the crossroads of many cultural legacies—Arab, African, and their many dialects; French; Christian; Muslim—it weaves these threads together naturally and surprisingly, brushing aside the complex identity questions that inevitably arise. The author has a clear, refreshing intention of offering no answers, fully embracing the resulting richness.