Arab Novel Conference I, II and, suddenly, III: Mona Anis searches for clues to the event's belated honouring of Sudanese novelist Tayyeb Salih More than five years separated the first and second round of the Arab Novel Conference, in February 1989 and October. 2003, respectively. Thus when, last year, the event's organisers (the Egyptian Ministry of Culture and its Supreme Council for Culture) announced that the third round would be held in February 2005 -- less than a year and half after its second round ended on a sour note -- many observers recognised the rush for what it really was: an attempt to restore the event's credibility in the wake of the severe blow it received in its second round at the hands of Egyptian novelist Sonallah Ibrahim. Ibrahim's refusal to accept the conference's award, and his labeling it as "worthless", received much publicity at the time and left both novelists and organisers wondering whether anyone would want to quaff now that Ibrahim had dropped the poison in the chalice? Would any other novelists, in other words, be eager to receive the award? This year several Egyptian novelists who had supported Ibrahim's right to turn down the prize -- Radwa Ashour, Mohamed El-Busatie, Gamal El-Ghitani and Bahaa Taher, among others -- refused to accept the peculiar terms the organisers conjured up to avoid the embarrassment of another honouree turning down the prize (a priori written acceptance of running in the contest). But others, including Edwar El- Kharat, Ibrahim Aslan and Khairi Shalabi, had their own reasons for wanting to rally around the council and its secretary-general, Gaber Asfour. As a result, this year's event took place in a galvanised atmosphere, with those who had publicly expressed sympathy with what Ibrahim said avoiding the event, and those who thought of his act as an offensive, political spectacle unworthy of an artist showing up en masse. As if in response, the organisers conducted the whole affair with warlike caution, shrouding the names of jury members and nominees in top secrecy. And so it was with considerable glee that Asfour went up on stage, at the closing ceremony, to prepare for the announcement of this year's winner by the head of the jury. He prolonged the suspense by listing the names of half a dozen Egyptian novelists who made up this year's "organising committee" -- an aspect of the conference that had not been seen in the previous two rounds. Then he called on Minister of Culture Farouk Hosni to join him on the podium and welcome the jury members. The manner in which Asfour disclosed the identity of each of these to an audience bamboozled by sundry false clues propagated by his staff through the five-day duration of the event was reminiscent of a cleverly plotted detective novel whose end promised an ingenious solution. And Asfour did find such a solution. The head of the jury was the one remaining Egyptian novelist of stature still on the good books of the Ministry of Culture and the one widely tipped to be the winner of this year's prize: Edwar El-Kharat. As for the winner, it was the head of last round's jury, the distinguished Sudanese novelist Tayyeb Salih, whose standing as a formative influence is recognised by all, so much so that no one suspected he would accept to run in the competition. Salih came to the podium with a wide smile and received his award to a standing ovation. After exchanging a few words with Asfour, he gave a brief speech which contrasted sharply with the bombshell given by Sonallah Ibrahim at the end of the previous round. Salih's speech was spontaneous and was marked by his characteristic sense of humour. Being Sudanese, he said, he could not shun an honour coming from Egypt, which was understood to be a reminder of the time when Egypt considered Sudan to be its backyard. Still in an amusing manner, he went on to recall how in the past trading caravans had passed through the Sudan but had never stopped there. This had long suited the Sudanese, since few people expected much from them, the Arabs considering them to be Africans and the Africans considering them to be Arabs. This had left them in the position of doing much what they liked. This explanation of the unique position of the Sudan in the Arab world led Salih to comment on the occasional stupidity of politicians, at which point the auditorium rang with laughter. He laughed in return, commenting that he had been referring to Sudanese politicians. These people, he said, wanted to apply Islamic sharia in a country which contained neither Mecca nor Cairo nor Damascus, cities that were centres of Islamic culture and civilisation. Here the author of Season of Migration to the North was treating his audience to an individually concocted meal of secular oppositional views, speaking in defence of freedom of belief and multiculturalism in a country that has always been at the crossroads of cultures and civilisations. Rounding up, Salih stressed that it would be foolish and unkind to turn down laurels bestowed by those who appreciated your work. On that note he ended. This seemed to be a reference to Sonallah Ibrahim's refusal to accept the award in 2003, which may have been what prompted Salih to accept this year's prize, to the surprise of many. "It's like awarding it to Mahfouz," a friend commented. "Either you give it to him in the first round to raise the profile of the award, or he is above competition." Apparently Ibrahim's refusal had infuriated Salih, who saw the act as a snub not only to the Egyptian establishment but to the jury he headed. That would be the only plausible explanation for his willingness to help in restoring respectability to the prize and the culture council along with it. A chivalrous act, since the real winner of this year's award is the Egyptian Ministry of Culture, not Salih.
