His writings

Address at the King Faisal International Prize

كلمته في حفل جائزة الملك فيصل العالمية · 1991

In 1991 (1411 AH) Abdeltawab Youssef, a writer for children, shared the King Faisal International Prize for Arabic Literature. In Riyadh he gave this address, arranged as “ten drops of morning dew”. In it he explains why he refused to write in English for a world audience, because “the children of my nation are my responsibility”, and he closes with his advice to teachers about the teapot and the cups. The English translation is by Professor Mohamed Enani.

Your Royal Highness, Prince Sultan bin Abdel Aziz, deputizing for the King, Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, in honouring this gathering with your presence,

Your Eminence, distinguished scholars, intellectuals, and men of letters,

God’s Peace be Unto You,

My address consists of ten points, ten drops of morning dew, from the sacrosanct “dawn and the ten nights” of the Qur’an. My sleepless nights have been long and many, during which I suffered the pain of handling Arabic characters, for my mission has been hard. It would have been easier to grasp the fragrance of flowers, the beams of the sun, or hold burning embers, than to produce a little ‘sweet’. This is how a little boy expresses gratitude to a father who has filled the little boy’s life with his sweets.

Now to my first dew drop, the first point: the Award. God says “Verily We shall recompense those that are steadfast, a recompense in proportion to the best of what they used to do”. I have been steadfast for half a century, since I left my early childhood, incessantly working hard, frequenting the springs of knowledge, and finally producing something to make me worthy of my place among you. I am therefore thankful and grateful to those who judged my work to be equal to the Award. I thank the referees and the Award Secretariat.

My second point is that the Award came to me from the land lit by the glory of its creator, the land of Prophet Muhammad bin Abdullah, Peace be Upon Him, the land of Omar, of Amr, of Khalid, Sa‘d, Abu Bakr, Abu Dharr, Bilal, Osama, Amina, Omm Ayman, Khadija, Aisha, Zeinab and Fatima, all of whom appear in my books which have won the Award. Seven years ago, I dedicated my children’s book “The Childhood of Prophet Muhammad” to Mecca and Medina as an expression of gratitude for their favour. A forlorn hope! They were there with Riyadh, saving this moment for me. It is they then who have won the Award! God says, “Lo! I have rewarded them this day forasmuch as they were steadfast in that they, even they, are the triumphant.”

The writer of children’s literature is a great dreamer. He lives with kings, princes, queens and princesses who are all figments of his imagination; but his dream cannot carry him as far as to meet a real king. Today he is in the presence of royalty, represented by the King’s brother, and feels it is almost beyond imagination that a children’s writer wins an Award patronized by King Fahd, the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques. It is unprecedented in human history that a King can boast being the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, as it is wonderful that this Award bears the name of a monarch, King Faisal, God’s mercy be upon him.

History will never forget King Faisal’s noble stand during the Ramadan/October war against those who violate all laws and usurp our holy places. We shall never forget how eager King Faisal was to pray at Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, the third Muslim Haram, but never did. However, his grandchildren will, God willing, realize his wish: they will re-enact Saladin’s feat, as you now honour the pens of their writers.

The fifth dew drop, the fifth point, concerns having an international status. Twenty years ago I was on a cultural tour of Britain and delivered a lecture at their Writers’ Union on my work. After the lecture, the Chairman of the Children’s Books Union spoke to me in private, and said, “Your ideas and literary style belong, without flattery, to ‘world classics’; you’re not read as such because you write in Arabic for a limited audience. Write in English and you’ll be read the world over.”

Back home I wondered why I wrote for children? Had I a personal ambition? Was my task to educate English-reading children? “Certainly not” was the answer. The children of my nation are my responsibility; it is for them that I hold my fervent pen. On the day I heard I had won the King Faisal Award, I sent a telegram to the Chairman of the English Children’s Books Union in the U.K. saying that “I had reached a world class status by my Islam and Arab character.” A world Award for children’s literature is a sign of civilization, expressed in the contemporary language of progress. It reveals a highly developed human ‘sense’, only to be expected from the makers of the ancient civilization in Egypt, the Arabian Peninsula, Iraq and the Levant. It is surely to be proved by the makers of the Islamic civilization which flourished in Medina, Damascus, Baghdad and Cairo. It speaks too of humanity’s hope in a real civilization which should beat their ephemeral, material civilization. Their world ‘award’ was never ahead of us. Let us remind them of our wonderful tales in the Arabian Nights, in Kalila wa Dimna, the Lion and the Diver, Sinuhe, and Gilgamesh. We are centuries ahead of them, yet their children are still fascinated by Sindbad, Aladdin, and Ali Baba.

The seventh dew drop: we here represent dozens. Personally I have lived with Kamel Kilani, author of books for children, more than with my neighbours, and more than he had lived with his own children. With other authors, Al-Harawi, Al-‘Iryan, al-Jehiman, Al-Ghoul, Al-Rusafi, I lived as though they were family members. We have to remember, with love, all those who have enriched children’s literature in our greater Arab homeland. However, two such names I especially embrace: my teacher and motherly Dr. Suhair Al-Qalamawi, and my mentor and spiritual father “Baba Sharu” [Muhammad Mahmud Sha’ban]. Furthermore, this Award permits me to join the list of great men with whom I vainly try to be on a par, with Yehia Haqqi: an unsurpassable honour. Let me say to those who thought well of me and congratulated me and said, well then, to the Nobel of Mahfouz or the Hans Christian Andersen Award. To them I say “All I want is to make some children happy”: on the summit of mount Ta‘iz in Yemen, in the rural areas of Egypt, in the Levantine desert, in Saudi Arabia’s desert, in the woodlands of Sudan, or others in Djibouti, Somalia, and Mauritania.

I have often been asked, “were you pleased to win this Award?” My answer has been “there is a big difference between pleasure and happiness.” At certain moments I felt so proud that I wished to get the glass of Alice in Wonderland, inscribed with words like “Drink me up!” Her magic potion gives one back one’s real size. I remembered Gulliver’s travels in the lands of Lilliput and Brobdingnag. I remembered the twenty thousand volumes of worldwide children’s literature in my home library. Such pinnacles of art and literature make me feel humble.

Dew drop ten: the sum total of all other drops, being drunk by a little bird. He feels to have quenched his thirst from the spring of Zamzam, to have soared overhead with the doves in the Haram, to have landed with them to peck at grains and love. He had dreamt that the award would crown his life’s work; and there it is, though won jointly with another. The Award tells me: no production is worthy of a crown unless continued, sustained by perpetual contributions. The Faisal Award is, however, an Award that draws a line between past and future. It is a beacon guiding one in the right direction. It shows me the minarets from which my voice is heard, as I say: Hail to all children! It is a pulpit from which I cry to all men: You hold the reins today, but tomorrow they will be in charge; so treat them well. It is a column in a mosque, where a teacher’s chair is traditionally placed; I therein sit and tell my listeners, “Do not think you are a pot of tea, and the children cups to be filled with it. Rather let them be their own pots of tea.” Finally, I have a little whisper, taken from my book “Amr in Egypt”. It paraphrases a Prophetic tradition which says: “Be good to the Egyptians: I am married to one of them.”

Thanking and expressing genuine gratitude to you for such sweet smiles and kind touches, I pray to God to guard our nation, unify her ranks, help her along, and illumine her way ahead.

God’s Peace and Blessing be Unto You!