“In a Black Bucket” is the title of your new novel. Why the choice of such a title?
Originally, there is this black bucket where, when she was still a baby, the narrator was placed and deposited on the steps of a hotel in Tangier. By fidgeting so much, the child ended up tipping this bucket, black as his skin, which rolled down the stairs and expelled the little girl onto the pavement, right at the feet of a couple of passers-by. It’s like a rebirth that seems to be happening there, especially since the couple decides to adopt him. The man, at least, despite the reluctance of his wife, Ghita, who carries a heavy secret within herself and lived in a sort of feudal world where most of the servants and nannies, these “Dadas”, as they were called and who also followed her to her new home after her marriage, were black. The narrator will then live between a loving father and this woman, Ghita, who will only harbor fierce jealousy and aversion for her.
In this new opus, you address the themes of laxity and passivity of families, destinies, punishments of the past, wounds… could you tell us a little more about it?
This novel is about crossed destinies which challenge and question each other. Some, fully traced, are marked by resignation, especially those of the servants who populate the house and whose mysterious lineages the narrator will question as she will question, through them, about her own origins. Others are of struggle and resilience. Still, most of the characters carry heavy memories and, yes, deep wounds. Through them, the story probes universes that raise questions about the right to self-determination, the devastating repercussions of trauma, denial, violence, on self-image, the danger of silences and secrets, but above all , ultimately, of the mysterious restorative power of love.
Is your novel also a quest to repair the pain of the past?
It is in fact upon the death of her adoptive father that the narrator decides to leave Geneva, where she went to study after her baccalaureate, to escape a violent relationship and to return to the traces of her childhood. The novel opens with a pale dawn where, after another evening of fury, the narrator regains consciousness, her body dislocated, on the floor. It is time for her to leave, to cross the European cities dear to her father, take the boat, return to Morocco and find the places of memory…
During his journey, emotions will be unleashed through which the reader will discover his Moroccan history haunted by the tumults of women softened by the infinite tenderness of a father, his impossible love, on Swiss soil, for a “child from there » taken from memories of the crash of bombs in Beirut, her passionate and tragic relationship with the man she left behind to undertake this kind of initiatory journey, her saving friendships.
It is a dense story where I hope that the reader will vibrate to the rhythm of Ghalia’s inner movements, of the ebb and flow of memories, sweet for some, terrifying for others. Terrifying, like that of Ghita, his adoptive mother, cold, who has nothing but deep contempt for him and who, born from an adulterous relationship yet carefully shrouded in the greatest secrecy, ends up discovering the truth and putting to death, in a moment of rage, his biological mother before the eyes of the women and children who populated the house…
By returning in her father’s footsteps, she returns to the love that saves from violence, from contempt, because it works to reassemble the body that denial works to fragment. And his is more broken than ever. It is a real pilgrimage towards the places of childhood that the narrator undertakes to reclaim her story despite the disappearance of the father who had helped her to build an identity, a singular personality, an individuality and which continues, even in absence, to save her from herself since it is her death that gives Ghalia the strength to break away from a toxic relationship.
You question physical but also psychological domestic violence and its consequences. Can we consider your opus a pamphlet against these forms of injustice?
The novel opens, in fact, with a scene where the narrator, after learning of the death of her father, regains consciousness on the floor, her body dislocated, after an evening of verbal and physical violence inflicted by her companion. Moreover, this scene has a symbolic charge and echoes an element that I have already mentioned: at the death of her father, whose love gave her body and meaning, the narrator disintegrates. So much so that this mourning will play the role of a catalyst which will allow her to completely free herself, finally, from the destructive influence of the man with whom she lives to undertake this initiatory journey which will return her to herself. .
-The social repercussions of domestic violence on social life? They are devastating. In the novel, to stay in this context, Ghalia’s companion isolates her from everyone around her, is jealous of her friends, puts her under control, prohibits her from any social interaction, even forcing her to quit her job… Isolation, confinement in a terrifying daily life which will almost drive Ghalia, subject to hallucinations in this cell erected around her, to madness.
It is also a sketch of human relationships, particularly between women in Morocco…
The story revolves a lot around women. In these moments it often takes on the appearance of a story, and the writing becomes more lyrical. The world of women is presented as a universe that is both fascinating and disturbing, sometimes protective and reassuring, sometimes merciless. An enchanting universe of songs, dance and poetry, but also of intrigue and tragic secrets.
In this opus, you have adopted both literary and journalistic writing. Is this a choice or a natural reflex of the journalist that you are?
I think it is neither a choice nor a reflex. Moreover, I mainly transposed literary writing into journalism, rather than the opposite. I think that the moments where the narration becomes more neutral are those where the narrator, in an instinct for survival, poses, from a distance, as an observer of her own existence. It is this distance which, when the pain becomes too intense, allows him to continue speaking, telling stories.
In your journey which is rich in more than one way, is this novel a continuation or a break?
I think this novel is in perfect continuity with my previous books. Not only because of the themes it addresses, but also because of the hybrid writing style, where poetic prose and poetry play a large part. In addition, characters present in previous novels come here to cross the story. The texts respond to each other, dialogue with each other.
What are your future plans?
I am currently working on a collection of poetry. Plastic art also keeps an important place, especially since my paintings are inspired by my texts.
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