Migrants, murder and racism

The Fortune Men has been shortlisted for the 2021 Booker, so I embarked on this reading experience with the full expectation that it would be of considerable merit – and it did not disappoint. The novel’s plotline is relatively simple, a middle-aged Caucasian Jewish woman is brutally murdered in her own shop one evening, and the protagonist of this novel, Mahmood Mattan, is accused of the crime. However, this is not a whodunnit, this is very much a story about migrants, racism, discrimination, set in 1950s Cardiff, Wales. Tana French had mentioned in the 2021 US National Book Festival that she did not set out to write crime fiction, but that it was a genre which allows a lot of creativity; and certainly, Mohamed had made excellent use of the same space for expression and creativity genre in this novel. 

The language of the book is discomfiting at first, because much of it is told from Mahmood’s point of view, in his own lingo and with his own particular set of values and world view, which may be unfamiliar to many readers.

Mohamed hails from Hargeisa, Somalia, 5^th of 5 sons, born into a family which has traded well and become relatively affluent in their city. Always restless, and unwilling to settle into a life of servitude to his family and its business, he persuades his brothers to send him, as a 13-year old, to Garissa, in the north of Kenya, then pushes onwards to Mombasa, working as a porter at the docks. He goes on Zanzibar, where he works as for a Somali jewellery merchant, and then onto Dar es Salaam, where he works for a Somalian widow. When the widow discovers Mahmood’s family are seeking him, she insists he returns and gives him train fare to do so – but Mamood elects instead to adventure on, and eventually comes to Tiger Bay in Cardiff. He is a sailor by profession, and claims he has sailed to the seven seas and certainly has seen many parts of the world. He seems never to have returned home to his family from the time he left, but appears to have adopted Cardiff as his new home, particularly when he sets up a new family. 

Mahmood falls in love with and marries a white girl, Laura Williams, and outrages Laura’s community. After 3 sons are born in quick succession, Laura, although loyal to Mahmood, moves home to her family, no longer able to tolerate Mahmood’s gambling, stealing, drinking, womanising. She continues to be loyal to him despite having left him, particularly when he is arrested for the murder of a 41-year old Jewish shopkeeper. Mahmood has experienced a lifetime of discrimination in Cardiff, from women who draw their handbags close when he passes and throw him dirty looks, to being regarded as a lowlife simply because of the colour of his skin; he is now in prison knowing those who identified him as being at the scene of the crime, are unlikely to be able to tell one Somalian male from another, or even one black man from another.

I am black man and nobody like my favour because my life is buy cheap.

p349

He is also aware that quite a few of the witnesses the defence calls, are racists and predisposed to think the worst of him, fully understanding that his real crime, of course, is in being a black man. 

Tiger Bay is a notoriously bad part of town. When Violet Volacki (herself a 2^nd generation immigrant from Russia) is brutally killed in her shop, the police

had spoken to every seaman docked that night, every pub landlord, every thief, every dopehead, every whore, the milkmen and road sweepers, the shopkeepers and café owners, the pastors and sheikhs, they money lenders and their debtors, the street dice-throwers and the kids who watch them, and to the police forces across the country

p106

Mohamed’s writing is evocative, painting in a picture of such diversity, of a particular kind of life and lifestyle. Her writing draws in deft brushstrokes the connection across continents and across history, of the fate of migrants, criss-crossing in a tangle of ways, to end up in the heart of empire, Britain itself, and the ensuing complex, tortuous, discordant relationships between migrants and locals, as well as amongst different groups of migrants (West Indians, Maltese, Arabs, Jews, etc). 

Mahmood’s travelling, nomadic life is reflected in his polyglot of languages; he tells the prison doctor

I know Somali, Arabic, English, Swahili and a little Hindi.

p155

However, he is largely uneducated, mostly illiterate, and has only been taught to recite the Quran. And under pressure, when hauled in for police questioning, his English gives under pressure:

“And a liar! Big liar! You tell them untruths! I no show you nothing about how woman was killed, you lie! […] You are Madison’s slave, his dog, he cares nothing for you, why lie for him? He just angry because I report him. […] British police is so clever. I tell you I kill twenty men. I kill your king. I tell you if you like, you think that right?”

p107-8

Mohamed captures the alienating experience of non-English speakers forced to trade in a linguistic currency which disadvantages, damages and condemns them:

Why is it that words seem to create such violence around him? What happens between his mind and mouth that betrays him so deeply? He forces himself to say the word that he hates, that empty English shield-like word, ‘Sorry.’

p307

It is no wonder that blurbs on the covers of this book contains praise from writers like Pankaj Mishra and Kamila Shamsie; Nadifa Mohamed is certainly a remarkable talent. Her writing voice is distinctive and lyrical, wonderfully accented and flavoured. Another very worthy Booker shortlist this year!