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Introduction [ top
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Why the title Full Sails Ahead? Autosuggestion,
certainly; self-encouragement in order to brave
a stormy sea.
Why Full Sails Ahead? To invite you on
a voyage of sincerity-perhaps also of severity.
At a time when the media strive to make bloody
lunatics of all on board, such an invitation will
surely seem naïve. Yet they will be raising
full sails all the same.
It will not be seen as pure coincidence if the
word voiles appears in the title of a book written
by a veiled woman. Freudians will not fail
to sniff out in that title the metaphor for an
abortive attempt. Let me defuse from the outset
any such psychoanalytical sallies. My use of the
word voile has nothing at all to do with
repression! It is well and truly a clear allusion
that I proclaim in all consciousness, one that
I assume in my title as well as in my life.
But this book, I hasten to reassure my reader,
is in no way intended as a panegyric to the scarf.
Islam, whatever we may think of its enemies-or
indeed of its supporters-is more than a square
of fabric. If the former consider the veil an
ostentatious and menacing sign, the latter all
too often fall into an opaque vision of islam.
For them, islam is reduced to a show of
clothing, and the dress of the veiled woman becomes
for them a veritable obsession.
Hoisting high my sails, I too can be provocative,
for French, the language that I have borrowed
to write in, has waged war on "three girls
and a scarf." I hoist them because I know
that in a world where the image reigns, being
provocative is the only way to hold people's attention.
I will use and misuse what Colette once called
the "tyranny of words" with the intention
of attracting eyes that have become disillusioned
by too much communication, and of shaking consciences
made languid by too much conformity. Self-important
minds will find my words insolent noise, but that
may draw their attention. They may indeed wake
up on the wrong foot-the words will perhaps have
been a bit too acrid-yet an awakening, no matter
how it comes about, is always more fitting than
comatose lethargy.
The reader will not fail to notice my fury against
France, more than any other Western country. The
reason for this attitude should not be hard to
understand; many parameters may be taken into
account. The first of these is my education. Of
all the western countries I know France the best,
since I have been in steady con tact with its
culture. Besides, there is always a tendency-indeed
an interest-to take on what one knows full well.
The second parameter is that France has effectively
played a primordial and central role in the formation
of western culture. According to Anne-Marie Thiesse,
the primary cause behind European nationalism
was a desire to escape from French cultural hegemony.
Speaking of the European struggle against the
French cultural model that invaded European circles,
she writes:
The struggle against conventionality merges
indeed with an offensive against French cultural
hegemony. In eighteenth-century Europe, French
is not only the language of Versailles, but
that of most European circles. French culture
was able to assert itself as being the most
accomplished expression of the literate, a model
that could be imitated but never equaled. The
brilliance of the French sun allows for mere
reflections elsewhere.
Criticizing France therefore amounts to criticizing
the leader of Western culture and thus rends honor
to whom honor is due.
Full Sails Ahead. I therefore hoist my
sails in order to "speak up" following
Pierre Bourdieu's advice in his dialog with Günter
Grass. I will bear this precious advice in mind,
even though I may seem obnoxious to many because
I belong to a category of persons whom some would
not like to have a say at all.
Full Sails Ahead. In particular I hoist
my sails for love of the high seas of the mind.
I hoist them on the mast of an imaginary ship
in order to offer a change of scene to those who
have grown bored. I hoist them for those whose
life resembles that of a draught animal endlessly
pulling and turning the millstone.
I then write for those who no longer have the
courage to go round in circles and have at last
the audacity to gaze at themselves in the mirror,
those who have the nerve to think differently.
I write for albatrosses, those who feel to be
in their element only in the heights of unknown
skies.
I am writing for you, Sisyphus.
Is it not time to rid yourself of your burdens
and the punishment no god inflicted upon you-one
in fact, you imposed on yourself? Hasn't the time
come to free yourself of evil forces that hold
you without holding you back, forces that bleed
you white but do not kill you, that use you but
do not exhaust you, that burn you but do not consume
you?
Sisyphus of all nations, revolt! make the effort!
You are dangerously draining yourself. Your wound
is open and your truth is fleeing from you.
Full Sails Ahead. I am neither the fi
rst nor the last to use the metaphor of a voyage.
Many before me have done so, and many will surely
do so after me. This is perhaps because no matter
who we are, where we are, or which time we live
in, we think of ourselves as voyagers by vocation.
Initiated by the Creator, the Prophet Muhammad
(grace and peace be upon him) knew our profound
nature and advised his disciples, "Live this
life as voyagers."
Supreme wisdom! Wisdom itself!
Writing in a most secular language in order to
establish contact with a certain frame of mind,
I will content myself for the moment with this
saying of the Messenger. I am forcing myself for
the same reasons by using references that are
closer to the French-speaking subconscious. Aware
of the fact that some minds will only respond
to imagery drawn from Greek mythology, I will
use it time and again while praying God to pardon
me the blasphemy inherent in pagan mythologies.
There is no god but God. Once having inhaled a
breath of fresh air in this pure saying from the
mouth of the Prophet, I dive with no breathing
apparatus into the inanity of Greek "wisdom."
One can scarcely speak of voyaging without evoking
Ulysses. I cannot, on the other hand, remember
the account of the episodes of this hero without
thinking of what I read between the lines. While
Homer retraced for me Ulysses' steps, it was,
strangely enough, the image of Penelope that made
an impression on me. My regard for this woman
came more from a profound existential feeling
than from a quibbling feminist point of view.
As I read further, I told myself that no matter
what setbacks that hero faced, he was surely happier
than his alter ego languishing in his absence.
All the while he was collecting the trophies of
wisdom, in the end, the only thing his wife cultivated
and reaped was fidelity. The spirit of endurance
and patience that Penelope symbolizes is much
to her credit; still, forging ahead in life and
changing will eternally remain an attitude more
meritorious than suffering the assaults of time
and suitors.
I firmly believe that the secret of life is progress.
For while Ulysses' poor wife sat at her loom weaving
and undoing her weaving, he was braving, enduring,
bearing, combating, transforming and being transformed,
confronting, breathing the air of the open sea-in
a word, he was living.
With the tale of these two spouses in mind, I
invite my readers to journey with me with full
sails ahead against wind and waters, against one-sided
views and small-minded notions!
If you feel more like Penelope than Ulysses,
read no further. Content yourself with weaving
and undoing your weaving. Long for an alter ego
who will never return. But if you feel more like
Ulysses-then full sails ahead toward a new horizon!
I might have written instead, Lifting all
veils, for I write not only from the desire
to deal with objections and protests, but out
of every Muslim's duty to lift the obscuring veils
that prevent the other from catching the message
of the Qur'an, the ultimate Message intended and
sent to all humankind by our Creator.
Thus chapter by chapter we shall progress step
by step in a world where duplicities skew our
sight and impoverish our being, so as to overcome
them. How ever vehemently I may plead the case,
it is out of love for all humankind that I write,
love for all the citizens of the modern world
whose accumulated misunderstandings threaten to
deprive them of a ticket to a reenchanted world,
a world reinhabited by humankind, the true humankind.
One cannot help but sympathize deeply with the
kind of person who has become a shadow of himself,
a prisoner of his ego, deliberately oblivious
to his essence and bereft of meaning.
My precise objective is to destroy the barriers
that stand between this person and his primordial
right to know the secret of his existence by recognizing
God.
Before embarking, I must point out that this
book has no academic pre tensions. I conceive
of it first as a cry from the heart for which
arguments serve as resonance chamber. It is no
more and no less than a passionate invitation
to a voyage toward meaning.
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