Ursula Assaf in her garden in front of a Lebanese cedar. (Credit: Joseph Assaf)
Identity is not something immutable. It is unique to each individual and is shaped throughout one's life. As Amin Maalouf aptly puts it, "What makes me myself and not someone else is that I stand at the crossroads of two countries, two or three languages and several cultural traditions. That is precisely what defines my identity. Would I be more authentic if I amputated part of myself?" Ursula Nowak Assaf’s identity was shaped by the ebb and flow between her home country Germany and her love for Lebanon.
An insightful writer and researcher, her path crossed by chance with that of Youssef Assaf, a professor, poet and doctoral student in theology who would later become the head of the cultural program at the Goethe-Institut in Lebanon. Together, carried by the hands of fate, they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to philosophy, literature and translation, fostering a continuous cultural exchange between Germany and Lebanon. In recognition of his intellectual work at the Goethe-Institut, Youssef Assaf was awarded the Bundesverdienstkreuz (Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany) in 2005.
Although they translated many works by Mikhail Naimy, Salah Labaki, Fouad Rafqa, and many others, their most significant work remains, without a doubt, the translation of the complete works of Gebran Khalil Gebran from Arabic to German, which greatly impacted the Lebanese cultural influence in Germany. Their hard work and great dedication have allowed the construction of many bridges between German and Lebanese cultures, the foundations of which endure to this day. Nearly 11 years after Youssef's death, and still driven by the voice of the East and the spirit of her husband, Ursula Assaf Nowak continues to publish new writings, reminding us that while Germany nurtured and sustained her, Lebanon made her grow.
What was your first contact with the Middle East and its culture?
My first contact with the Middle East was in Paris. There, I met many Middle Easterns at the Sorbonne with whom I became friends. Through them, I discovered Eastern culture in all its forms, and subsequently, I met their families and fully experienced Eastern customs. This world fascinated me because it was nothing like what I had known in post-war Germany. Once I returned to Germany, I joined the University of Freiburg, which taught "Orientalism." Thus, I was able to study Arabic, Persian and Turkish, including the history and literature of these three languages.
Later, you wrote a thesis on Eastern tales. Why did you choose this subject, and how did you write it?
It so happened that my professor, Hans Robert Romer, asked me to write a doctoral thesis that the Helsinki Folklore Center was requesting on the theme of folklore tales. I needed to gather several stories from Eastern folklore. At first, I was hesitant because it wasn't necessarily the subject I most wanted to address for my thesis. However, while conducting my research, I discovered how one could delve into the very essence of a country and capture its soul through its folklore, which gradually changed my mind. Moreover, thanks to a scholarship offered by Volkswagen, I was able to conduct my research in libraries in Syria, Egypt, Lebanon and Jordan to collect this cultural and folkloric wealth. It was a considerable task, especially in terms of transcription and understanding the different local dialects, but also in interpreting them from Arabic to German.
And this thesis also became a collection of tales?
Yes, these tales were included in my thesis, which was part of the Finnish Folklore Cooperation, an encyclopedia that compiled folklore tales from around the world. Many publishing houses contacted me afterward to publish collections of tales from the East or Lebanon. These stories were published in several collections, and I devoted myself to this work for five or 10 years.
How did you meet Youssef Assaf?
During my studies, I worked in the university's administration. And one day, a lady from Freiburg came to the university with Youssef and introduced him to me. He was still a priest at that time and was studying in Strasbourg, and she wanted to see Professor Roemer. But he had gone to lunch, so she left me with Youssef. I quickly realized that he was a very generous and pedagogical person. I convinced him to become our Arabic teacher since our previous teacher had left without notice. I quickly persuaded him, and 30 minutes later, we had a new teacher. The classes immediately improved in quality.
Among all the translations you did with Youssef, the translation of Gebran's work is certainly the most important. How did you discover Gebran?
Before university, I worked in a library in Duisburg. It was the time when many anti-authoritarian works on education were being published. And in one of these books, there was a quote that I really liked, the famous "Your children are not your children"... I was fascinated by these few words and wanted to find the author. But try as I might, no one in the library knew the writer behind this quote. A year later, I was invited to a wedding in London and saw another quote from Gebran on love, but there too, no one could enlighten me about its origin. It was only when I married Youssef and went to Lebanon that I was able to truly meet Gebran during a visit to the museum dedicated to him in the Qadisha Valley, which allowed me to learn more about him and obtain his books in English.
What prompted you to translate his works?
During my stay in Germany, the first German translation of Gebran's "The Prophet" was published, and a friend gave it to me as a gift. I wasn't satisfied with the translation because I found that the Eastern style and thought of the text were poorly conveyed, and it was done in old German, making the book very difficult to read. So I contacted the publishing house responsible for this publication to propose a different approach to translating this work. They then suggested that I adapt Gebran's other works into German. That's how we started the translation work with Youssef. Together, we translated Gebran's eight books written in Arabic, and eventually, we became the official translators of Gebran's work in German.
It also seems that Lebanese or Eastern writers, whether Gebran or his contemporaries, were not very well-known in Germany. Did you therefore play an important role in building bridges between East and West?
Yes, as I mentioned earlier, no one knew Gebran or his contemporaries. When we translated Gebran, Youssef and I were known as translators from Arabic to German, and we were constantly between East and West, between Lebanon and Germany. We were invited to Egypt and the Near East for translators' assemblies, we met several authors in Lebanon, and later, we began translating other Lebanese writers like Mikhail Naimy and Ameen Rihani... We also used to host groups of Germans who came to Lebanon, for whom we organized reading sessions about the Land of the Cedars and its culture. We always tried to communicate Eastern thought to Germany and German thought to the East.
What were your first impressions of Lebanon?
It was a revelation for me. I loved this country very much and immediately appreciated Lebanese hospitality, as well as the great civilizations that have infused their heritage through historic cities like Byblos and Baalbek, to name just a few. I loved the Lebanese people, who are much more sociable and open than in Europe and have a joy of living that you can't find anywhere else. My best years were those I spent in Lebanon and its villages, and I love this country as much as its inhabitants. Lebanon and Germany are comparable to two opposite entities that complement each other. Germany, being naturally strict, needs the warmth and open-mindedness of Lebanon. And the communication that can exist between these two extremes is very important in fostering Lebanese-German cultural ties.
With Youssef Assaf, you translated a significant number of Lebanese authors, as mentioned earlier. But how is the translation work done?
It's a very tedious and delicate process. Often, I receive compliments saying that my texts don't sound translated. I believe that to achieve this result, you must really know the country from which the manuscript originates. You must have lived there for a long time to understand how people use or appropriate the different expressions in the original text. To do this, I first do a word-for-word translation to understand the entire text. Then I distance myself a bit to avoid being constrained by the words. Finally, I translate it into a more Eastern German, so that the German reader feels in each sentence what the Lebanese author wanted to express. Above all, you should never limit yourself to literal translations. You must stay true to every word while conveying them in pure German.
More recently, you have published several books that evoke your life in Lebanon in an epistolary way through the letters you sent to your parents in Germany. How did this idea come about?
I used to keep a diary that I regularly updated. My parents were worried about me since I was in Lebanon during the civil war, and I made an effort to write to them at least once a week to reassure them. After returning to Germany following Youssef's death, I discovered that my mother had kept all the letters in a large bundle.
Out of love for Lebanon, I started editing these letters and reviewing them not only from a personal perspective but also by adding a historical background that tells the story of my daily life and the love I feel for this country. I first published a part that recounts the year I spent in the German House of the Orient in Beirut, where I focused on the intellectual life of the capital ("Letters from Beirut") and the encounters I had at the Orient Institute. Then, in the second part, "Letters from Lebanon," I focused on Lebanese societal life.
This article originally appeared in French in L'Orient-Le Jour.
