Getting to Know … Michelle McDonald, author of The Kiss of Saddam (Part 3)

What were the difficulties you encountered in writing such a personal account of Selma Masson’s life in The Kiss of Saddam?

When Selma first asked me to write her story I was surprised, honoured and above all, I felt a huge sense of responsibility. When someone gives you their story, they are  giving you an account of their life. It is precious and fragile. Therefore complete honesty is necessary to avoid, what could be called, the literary equivalent of ‘grievous bodily harm’.

I was concerned about my ability to be objective about my friend, but what is objectivity anyway? I love Joan Didion’s title: We tell ourselves stories in order to live. I think this is profoundly true. Everyone’s story comes from their own subjective memory.

And on top of that you have my telling of the story of what Selma has told me about her life. So already objectivity is  twice removed.  So honesty, I believe, is far more important than objectivity.

It is certainly true that literature, whether fiction of non-fiction, is our way of exploring our experiences and who we are. I don’t think you can connect with any piece of literature unless it is true for you on some level. Any fiction that is good comes from a deep intuition based on experience, it doesn’t come out of a vacuum. Even your creative imagination is formed by your world experiences. And – the ultimate challenge to objective non-fiction – your world experiences are in turn framed by your creative imagination.

There are more  advantages than disadvantages when writing about someone close to you. Intimacy  invites confidences. Insights come through friendship that cannot be gained at arm’s length. When the subject is unwilling to show an emotional reaction, intimate knowledge of the person may give the writer truer, less conjectured access to what is below the surface. And of course, close friendship provides opportunities for intimate times together not available to others;  the situational setting gives insights often not available to the journalist. Because of our close friendship as well as visiting the Middle East I became involved with  the Iraqi community in Sydney, going to the ‘iftar’ feast which breaks the fasting at Ramadan, shopping and eating with Selma and her friends in her part of Sydney.

The only possible disadvantage is that closeness might tend you to be less critical. Of course one doesn’t want to say something hurtful about someone one cares about. So I decided to tackle this up front, right at the very beginning of the project.  I explained to Selma that she had to be portrayed as a three dimensional human being with flaws, that I could not afford to airbrush her persona. She understood completely and was, I believe, amazingly honest about her personal foibles. Indeed, many people have told me that Selma is not very likeable in the first half of the book, but that she has redeemed herself in her later life.

You went to the Middle East with Selma and her husband Mohammad whilst writing the book.  That must have been an amazing journey …

My visit to the Middle East was extremely important, vital even, to the successful writing of ‘The Kiss of Saddam’. Firstly I could observe Selma and Mohammad in their own culture, surrounded by their own family and friends.

Secondly I was steeped in their culture, religion and language, all so very different from our own in Australia.  This trip gave me invaluable insights in the world of Islam, its everyday practice, its history.

Damascene real estate was an unusual ingredient of  my Middle Eastern experiences. I spent a couple of days apartment shopping with my friends (they later bought an apartment in Damascus.) If the apartment for sale was occupied and the woman was at home Mohammad was not allowed to enter – only women could be admitted - and he would expect a detailed description after the viewing. I felt like a voyeur, going into the secret world of the family enclave. It’s interesting enough in Sydney. In Damascus it was doubly intriguing.

And of course, shopping. ‘Born to shop’ Selma was in her element showing me the delights of the souk.

Spending 6 weeks in the close company of a person also gives you enormous insight into their character. Hitherto unknown irritants can manifest themselves, while conversely, traits of patience, kindness and hospitality also make themselves known. It was a time when I got to know and understand both Selma and Mohammad extremely well.

How has your experience at Villawood Detention Centre in Sydney, helping refugees and subsequently writing The Kiss of Saddam changed your life?

• There is no doubt that the Howard Government’s hard line on people seeking asylum changed my life. I understood for the first time that governments can lie to their people in order to prove a political point, that peoples’ lives are less important than political futures and that so-called decent Australians can be as cruel and heartless as anyone else.
• I also learned that some peoples’ lives can be difficult in a way unknown to most Australians.
• I learned how lucky I was to be born a middle-class person in an Anglo-Celtic first-world country and of Judao-Christian background. I am one of the lucky ones. I have had every advantage.
• I learned I wanted to help people without my luck.
• I learned that I couldn’t change the world but that I could make a real difference to a small number of people. I lost my complacency, I became a minor activist and a major letter writer.
• I look at the world now with the eyes of someone who understands that I am privileged beyond the wildest dreams of millions.

Read Part One here.

Read Part Two here.

You can buy The Kiss of Saddam .

I want to thank Michelle for sharing her incredible story. I hope that you have enjoyed getting to know her as much as I have.

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