Silence Is My Mother Tongue by Sulaiman Addonia

There are three things I love about this book. The chaos, clarity, and conviction all rolled into one and explored through the fiercest character I’ve ever met in a book—Saba. 

I have known displacement; it is both mentally and physically chaotic. It renders the future hazy, and the only way to survive is by simply placing one foot in front of the other. Saba is in a refugee camp, trying to balance the weight of being a daughter, a sister, and an individual whose role is mapped out by her society, regardless of how torn said society is. 

As a refugee, it is clear, perhaps even clearer to Saba who she is and what she wants out of life. She dreams in 3D even though her reality is completely botched. She wants to be something, someone different from the one her mother has mapped out for her. Her clarity is her strength, showing her how good it can get if only she has access to her books.

Saba’s conviction is quite enviable. She is grounded in who she is. Yet there are endless ways society will connive to break such a woman, which is evident in the trial scene. I find the most admirable thing about Saba is her self-awareness and continuous introspection that invites us to see her and the people that surround her through her lens. She is relentless in her pursuit of knowledge, and the only thing that takes up equal space in her heart is her love for Hagos.

Hagos – The brother whose words are unspoken but loud and deeply resonating to the person who loves him most—his sister. I will always remember the sweetest devotion between brother and sister; pure, unadulterated commitment towards the existence of one another. Perhaps it is trauma bonding, perhaps not. Frankly, I’d rather not reduce their relationship to that. Sulaiman Addonia wrote this story to life and made these characters flesh so that even their breath on our shelves reminds us these are lived experiences of some people.