Book Review: The Blinding absence of light


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This novel is a masterpiece by Moroccan novelist poet and philosopher Tahir bin jalun. Tahir bin jalun was born in 1944 in the Moroccan city of FAS. Tahir bin jalun received his primary education from an Arabic and French school in Tanja and later received a degree in philosophy from Muhammad Khams University in Rabat. After graduating from from university, he adopted the Department of teaching philosophy and began teaching in sablanca. In 1966, he was arrested while attending a student political protest and was imprisoned for nineteen months in a military camp alongside students. When the University's source of education was turned Arabic in 1971, he refused to teach Philosophy in Arabic and left home and moved to Paris.
The novel this this blinding absence of light was first published in French in 2000 under the name (cette aveuglante absence de lumiere). A year later it was translated into Arabic and later in English as this blinding absence of light.
The novel is written on basis of July 10, 1971 in Morocco against the backdrop of unsuccessful rebellion against the government of Sultan Hassan Al Thani and the subsequent bloodshed and terrorist violence and human rights abuses. On the day of July 10, 1971, the soldiers of the Moroccan army are left to attack in the palace of the locker Sultan and the army is ordered to kill the Sultan when in the palace they are celebrating their forty-two birthdays. And as a result, a worst series of murders begins and hundreds of wounded soldiers are arrested. The novel is the story of one of the same rebels with a complete narrative of torture cell's 18 years of worst violence.
All surviving prisoners are transferred to the torture cell of the tazamamart. Each rebel in the torture cell is put in a grave-like mansion that is narrower and darker than the grave. Neither light nor fresh air. all existence of man is locked in a mansion of 5×4. Violence becomes a part of everyday life that cannot be escaped even if desired. Once a day, in the name of food, we would be given food that was deprived of any pleasure and only given to keep us alive, once a day we would be given water which we would preserve and use all day to ablution and drink which was certainly not enough. They tried to kept alive so as to make us a sign for the crime of disobeying the sultan by torturing as much as possible no one in the future will repeat the forgetfulness of insolence in the glory of the Shah. Whoever challenges the King's power, he was thrown into hell. After a period of time as we had become accustomed to this torture, expire food and abuse of soldiers. Any work in the torture cell Commandant's order.It wasn't without the commandant in this long period of time even the commandant did not come in front of us before us he was just a name for spreading fear in our bodies so that as much as possible could cripple us soon with regard to mentally tortured us. The body had long become a source of various diseases due to the lack of sun rays, and the only source of sunlight for us was the death of our colleagues. And in this large compound, as many graves were digged in advance as according to our colleagues number was, to give space in our brain to say that this is our last resting place, and it is impossible to get out of here, and this quickly led us to death itself, whose nerves would be strong. it was relatively easy to live. And it had become our life and each of our colleagues would have been given one by one to spend time. The teacher would teach us the Qur'an and prayer, a fellow was an expert in calculating time and date days and taught a French and another language and I would tell anecdotes, stories, movie events and poetry my memory was extremely fast, but this hell influenced my memory like a slow killing poison. We stayed in this house. we had stopped hoping to get out and death was that hope which, despite so much torture, does not even take the name of coming. I would have given each of my stories such colors as if it had felt like it was from Morocco. The story and the recitation of the Qur'an would have dared to keep us alive when I fell ill for a few days, our partner died screaming to hear the story, I couldn't tell the story. More than half of our colleagues were dead after thirteen years had passed since various illnesses and insects and snake were left in our room. And in the outside world I don't know if people even remember us or not. Through a soldier, we had the opportunity to smuggle a letter into the world outside the prison, which may convey to the outside world that we are alive but in hell. One hope arose perhaps Amnesty International and human rights pioneer organizations will help us get out of here but we were of not subject of useful to anyone neither to the Shah nor to the amnesty nor to the rebellion who made us rebels even after that it took us another five years to be free at that time we were only a few fellow left at that time we were not going to work for the Shah and the thing about the outside world when they had forgotten us we got freedom at a time when that freedom also took us it was meaningless.
This novel is an image of the torture that each oppressed receives after raising his head against force. This event is rather Moroccan, but the event in it and its characters meet in every subordinate nations, the face of torture is the same everywhere the most immoral and the most cruel. The strong nerves and helplessness of a political prisoner can be clearly seen in it equally noticeable. The most painful process in torture cell is thinking about your past and remembering if you somehow become a man Rebel from past memories, then his life can be less painful. Can a person really forget his past?۔۔؟ Perhaps nothing happens to you in the House. This is the only place where the material and immorality of the world does not play a single power except for the government time decided every action is by gestures, when to kill, when to abuse, when to leave for sleep, when to commit brutal violence, when to give food how much to give. They run our lives custom from their comfort rooms even I think smuggling our letter was not kindness to us there was certainly some good for them in this Those who survived this long journey were semi-dead humanoid. No one was healthy in terms of physical and psychological. The body was home to various diseases and the body was shrunk. Violence had distorted nerves and limbs.
When reading it, it certainly feels like these are all the stories of our society.
I hope everyone will be back soon from torture cells.