These Bodies of Water
REVIEW: These Bodies of Water: Notes on the British Empire, the Middle East and Where We Meet, Sabrina Mahfouz
In this powerful part-memoir, part-history book, Sabrina Mahfouz decisively works her way through significant bodies of water in the “Middle East” (a term she finds problematic, but adopts for lack of a better alternative) and examines how they are at the heart of British colonial decisions and outlook. What soon becomes clear is not only how the empire was implicated in most of the Middle Eastern conflicts she mentions, but also that its legacy continues to do harm today. Her investigations are full of internal reflection and anecdotal stories, as it was her interview for Top Secret Clearance in the Civil Service that prompted her to research and write this book. The interjecting interrogator, her fictionalised Top Secret Clearance interviewer, starts and ends most chapters, and the book itself. Her responses are dry and witty, but most importantly they challenge every assumption and learned history held by the interviewer, the reader, and herself.
The book is divided into eight Middle Eastern countries, with each one given a ‘water-based’ heading, such as Tidal for Yemen and Headwaters for Bahrain. It sets sail in Harbour I (Egypt) and ends its journey in Harbour II (England). Covering enormous conflicts and colonial histories, from Gaza, to Saddam Hussein, to the ongoing war in Yemen, Mahfouz deals with this horrifying subject matter both forcefully and sensitively, in a balanced and direct way. Sitting beside this is her luscious, beautiful prose and poetry, telling stories from her past or giving voice to certain peoples who have hitherto been silenced – or rather, not listened to.
Don’t expect a historical guidebook through Middle Eastern bodies of water. Memory leads here, water is the starting point. Thus, the form is free flowing. She addresses this in her prologue as an attempt to go ‘against the organised way we have become accustomed to absorbing these explorations of unorganised identity.’ The form is also a product of her memory after years of drug use and trauma. These premises all make sense, and in practice the form works well. The reader is immersed in anecdotes, history, poetry, drama, and prose; the cumulative effect is powerful and effective. When detailing horrific genocides, wars and abuse, injections of poetry offer a new strength to the subject matter.
For me, one of the most impactful chapters was the one on Yemen. She thoroughly and sensitively covers the conflict in Yemen, the history of British and American abuse of Yemen, and the ignorance towards this history. While Russia’s horrific invasion and abuse of Ukraine gains deservedly exhaustive media coverage, Mahfouz reminds us of the conflicts and horrors that are forgotten. On finishing the book, it is clear that this disparity has much to do with the fact that it is Britain and America, not Russia, who are the villains in the wars she covers.
Britain (and America) are rightly the villains in this book. British-made borders imprison much of the Middle East and are the source of numerous issues. She acknowledges that while not all problems in the Middle East have the British Empire to blame, a ‘significant proportion of contemporary problems’ do. A lot of the British interest in Middle Eastern waters was due to trade access to India and expansion of the Empire. She shows how these motivations have now morphed into pretences of defence, protection, and ‘global Britain’, as coined by numerous Conservative MPs. ‘Global Britain’, Mahfouz reveals, is the empire’s new outfit.
Aside from actual conflicts and violence, Mahfouz encourages the reader to look inward and unpack our assumptions about the Middle East. She challenges the Western stereotype that the Middle East is inherently violent and unstable. In her book, it is Britain that is violent, and instability is a by-product of this violence in the areas they choose to attack. She herself looks inward, discussing passing as white and code-switching as methods she used to navigate a post-9/11 Britain.
Bodies of Water is ambitious in its combination of private reflection and global conflicts, contemporary problems and centuries of history leading up to it. Everything is put forward in a comprehensive, accessible and balanced way. I learnt a lot from this book. It certainly revealed my own ignorance of Middle Eastern history (some very recent history!) if nothing else. Mahfouz acknowledges this. She wanted to tell ‘the other side to the colonial mainstream narratives’ and she delivers on this aim.
The final chapter offers a way forward for Britain, and then the world. For the former, Mahfouz preaches an honest and deep reckoning with the past and how it continually does harm today. Whether that will ever be achieved, she cannot say. For the latter, in a uniquely optimistic take on the climate crisis, she shows how climate concerns can encourage cooperation and collaboration, rather than conflict. She cites examples of Iran and Iraq working together to clean up the Shatt al-Arab, and Jordan, Palestine and Israel agreeing on the Red Sea-Dead Sea Conveyance Project. These projects are not without their problems, but Mahfouz holds out hope for the potential they offer. In a world where there exists simultaneously flooding and drought, drowning and dehydration, I thought this take was refreshingly hopeful.
Even if it’s just to learn more about the British Empire and the Middle East, this book should be read by everyone. It is the perfect demonstration that history continually informs our present; even when it’s an unheard history, buried underneath centuries of ignorance.
Rating: 5 stars
Zadie Loft
