The award-winning Somali-British author of Black Mamba Boy (2010) talks to pan-African about her new novel The Fortune Men, and bringing the story of Mahmood Mattan, a real-life victim of UK racial injustice, to light through her fiction.
Why did you decide to write The Fortune Men?
It wasn’t a decision so much as a desire, a feeling that it was a story I couldn’t shake.
There were parts of the story that obviously caught my attention – capital punishment in the UK, Tiger Bay, the world of immigrant men in the 1950s – but it was a long, drawn-out process before I decided to sit down and write the novel.
How did you arrive at the title of the book?
Ooh, that’s a long story. It’s had many different titles over the years and The Fortune Men came very late, as my editor and I batted across different ideas. The term ‘fortune men’ came directly from the world of Somali sailors who were referred to as such by other Somalis who marvelled at the amount of money they returned home with from their travels.
There is even a reference to ‘fortune men’ in my first novel, Black Mamba Boy, and I liked the idea of connecting to these two related novels through that title.
The story is about former merchant seaman Mahmood Mattan, the first person in British history to have a wrongful murder conviction overturned 46 years after being executed.
Your father knew him in real-life; how did you feel about blurring the line between fiction and fact on his behalf to bring this important story to life?
It had to happen as however deep I went into the research, there was always a slight absence where the real Mahmood should have been.
Different fragments of him appeared in police interviews, newspaper reports, medical files, and court transcripts but there was no way of making him whole without stepping in myself and walking in his footsteps.
What essential message would you like readers to take away from The Fortune Men?
That what happened to Mahmood and the violence he suffered from the state is still very much with us, wherever we live in the world. We all look away from the imperfections, if not abuses, of our societies until they pose a problem for ourselves.
I also wanted people to take note of the rebels that have always pushed against the way things have always been done, who tried to create space for new ways of living.
What did you enjoy most about writing the book?
I enjoyed everything about it – it was a pleasure to write: the interviews, the trips to Cardiff, the wealth of the archival record, and the feeling that it was ready to be written after almost two decades’ gestation.
How has moving from Somaliland at a young age impacted you as a person, and your creativity as a storyteller?
I think it’s a crucial part of my outlook on life, of being a perpetual outsider, of trying to work out all these things that are half-seen or half-understood.
Are there any storytellers or novels from the Somali diaspora that you really admire right now?
Hassan Ghedi Santur writes beautifully about the Somali diaspora, especially in his novel Youth of God.
And Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali’s Angry Queer Somali Boy is high up on my reading list.
What do you love about being Somali?
Our global and oral history; our past is full of wild stories and adventurers, both male and female.
To buy The Fortune Men, visit Penguin for stockists.
