The Wandering Falcon by Jamil Ahmad

Published by Riverhead on October 13, 2011

Times are changing for the nomadic tribes that move with the seasons between Pakistan and Afghanistan, leading sheep and camels to new grazing lands. Both nations now demand travel documents that tribal members with no birth certificates cannot obtain. The nomads consider themselves citizens of all countries, or none; they have no wish to be rooted. The conflict between ancient traditions of tribal life and the evolving demands of government is the most interesting theme developed in The Wandering Falcon. Another theme concerns the difficult lives endured by tribal women. Sadly, the novel's themes are stronger than the story it tells.

At the age of five, a boy who comes to be known as Tor Baz watches his father shoot his mother in the back to save her from the fate that his father will soon endure. Baz then watches as members of the Siahpad tribe stone his father to death to avenge his parents' sinful insult to the Siahpad: his father, a camel herder, fell in love with his mother, the wife of his father's employer, and fled with her across the barren land, hiding at a military outpost for five years before being discovered. The Siahpad leave Baz to die in the harsh environment, where he is found by a traveling party of Baluchs, desert-dwelling rebels against a government that has usurped the power of their tribal chiefs. Tor Baz is the novel's recurring character, although he disappears from time to time as other characters emerge. More than once as the story progresses, Tor Baz begins his life anew.

In the first two or three chapters, the elegant simplicity of Jamil Ahmad's writing style and the evocative landscape he creates reminded me of J.M. Coetzee. Unfortunately, that's where the comparison ends. While Coetzee's novels inspire the reader to draw larger truths from small, personal stories, Ahmad tells the reader too much. As is often true, the novel is at its best when it spotlights individual lives. When Ahmad attempts to broaden the story to encompass the plight of entire tribes, his narration becomes a bit heavy-handed. The novel shines when Ahmad uses individual characters to explore tribal customs and the political relationships between tribes and governments. When Ahmad pauses to comment upon the problems of nomadic groups around the world, the story loses its momentum and the novel suffers.

Too often, the story loses its focus. A chapter describing a kidnapping of urban dwellers by tribesmen (Tor Baz plays a tangential role as an informant) illustrates the political dynamic between the tribes and the government but contributes little to plot development. In a middle chapter, point of view abruptly shifts from third person to first as a German man whose father was born into a tribe describes his visit to the land of his father's youth (Tor Baz is one of his guides). The abrupt change in point of view to that of a new character was jarring. The German serves as a vehicle for more stories about tribal politics, particularly about the tribes' shifting roles during the Second World War, but does nothing to advance the story. In the remaining chapters, point of view returns to third person. The next two chapters introduce new characters (women who are treated as property), setting up a final chapter that brings Tor Baz back to the forefront. The ever-changing storylines, only some of which tie together to form a coherent whole, give the novel a disjointed feel.

In the end, I appreciated The Wandering Falcon for its educational value, but I formed no emotional attachment to it -- or rather, I lost the attachment I was beginning to form in the early chapters after the story lost sight of Tor Baz. We never get to know any character well, while Tor Baz, although positioned as the central character, remains an undeveloped enigma. This book might have worked better as a collection of short stories. Still, the strong writing and fascinating cultural issues make The Wandering Falcon well worth reading.

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