Putting down roots” – Widad Nabi writes about her experiences in Germany

Widad, you recently received the international Camaiore Poetry Prize in Italy for «A Continent Called Body.» This is a poem you wrote for a performance at the Neukölln Opera in Berlin, and it’s about you and Aleppo, the Syrian city where you lived. Did you expect to win a prize for it?

The prize was indeed a surprise—for me, the publisher, and the translator. It is one of the most important and prestigious literary prizes for poetry in Italy; it has been awarded since 1950, and prominent figures such as the renowned Italian poet Alda Merini, as well as Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney, have already received it. However, since I am a poet from a region often portrayed in Western media as a hotbed of terrorism and Islamism, no one had expected the prize to go to a writer from there. But the voice of poetry proved stronger than all geographical, national, or political boundaries.

In your new book, «Putting Down Roots,» published in German, you write in the first essay about your reading tour through Italy and how, between Italian and Arabic, you felt that the German language was a kind of home. Has German now become your language?

I can’t give a definitive answer to that question. But I can say this: I live between three linguistic worlds—Kurdish, Arabic, and German—and all of these linguistic worlds contribute to shaping my identity, my writing, and my thinking. Sometimes it surprises even me that when I want to give my child strict instructions, I speak German—as if the structure of a language influences how you use it in life. And when I’m very emotional, I speak Kurdish with him. Being born and living in different and diverse linguistic worlds constantly changes one’s identity, thinking, and view of the world. And that’s precisely what I love about my linguistic worlds—even if I sometimes get lost in their complex grammatical structures.

What significance does the fact that you are a mother have for the need to put down roots, as the title of the new publication suggests?

Motherhood confronted me directly and painfully with the question of belonging and roots. Before becoming a mother, I had resigned myself to the idea of ​​exile—not only geographical, but also psychological and linguistic. But motherhood thrust me into the heart of reality.
We live in a country that repeatedly experiences periods of rising far-right extremism and struggles with migration.
Even people born here, whose parents were also born here, are often not truly considered German because of their so-called «migration roots.» In kindergarten, at school, at university, or at work, they repeatedly hear the same question: «But where is your family from?» As if one could only be truly German if one had white skin and light eyes. This is an outdated, medieval, and backward understanding of identity. Because a country’s identity—like its people—changes over time, through migration, and through the blending of cultures. With the birth of my child, I found myself in a battle – a battle against a rigid understanding of German identity, against racism, against prejudice, and against stereotypical notions of what it means to be German. That’s why I’ve written several texts. If my child, born in Berlin – who speaks German as their mother tongue and whose entire life unfolds here – is allowed to put down roots in this country, then I, too, will do the same and put down aerial roots.

The 17 essays in this volume were written in reverse chronological order, from 2025 to 2017. Thus, the book tells the story of a continuous development, from your arrival in Germany, which was made bearable by «refuge in literature,» through the contradiction of the country simultaneously offering you protection and classifying you as a foreigner, to your eventual German citizenship. What did you learn about yourself during these ten years?

As I reread my earliest texts, right up to the most recent ones I’ve written, I realized how much I’ve changed—as have my thoughts on concepts like home, belonging, integration, migration, borders, and so on. I also became aware that my identity has been constantly evolving over these ten years, enriched by each new experience and each new language. This book has reminded me that I am a writer who is changing and evolving—not bound by the boundaries of the past or by a war I’ve lived through, but someone who ceaselessly delves beneath the surface of consciousness to shape new worlds and lives.

Besides your daily work, all the bureaucracy and domestic work for your family, how much time do you have left for literature?

Not much, really. I finished my new book of poems, which was published in Arabic a month ago, during my commute to and from work by train. I wrote some of the poems on the trains, and sometimes I «stole» a little time and sat in the reading corner of the Hugendubel bookstore to write.

How integrated and supported do you feel in Berlin’s literary scene?

I think the first part of the question should be answered by the literary institutions in Berlin, not by me. Regarding the second part: Berlin has given me a lot, but at the same time, the city is heavily influenced by the personal and political views of those who run these institutions. For example, between 2016 and 2019, there was a strong interest in presenting the literary works of authors with a migration background—in connection with the wave of refugees and migrants at that time. Today, however, the focus is more on other literary themes, depending on the current political situation. This means that the emphasis is less on the literature we create as people with a migration background, and more on providing a kind of literary testimony about the political situation as a «migrant voice» in Germany.

From the “Weiterschreiben” scholarship in Wiesbaden to the award of city writer in Neuruppin to this year’s poetry prize in Camaiore – how important are such accolades for your writing work?

Prizes do not inherently enhance the value of literary work, as its worth lies in its quality, not in the acclaim surrounding the author. At the same time, however, they are an important recognition that the author is reaching a wider readership and that their work is influencing people’s lives.
Literary grants are also of great importance, as they provide the author with the time and financial resources necessary to write without constantly worrying about bills.

You recently presented «Putting Down Roots» at the Frankfurt Book Fair – what was your experience of both your presentation and the fair itself?

It was something very special for me – that feeling when I entered the fair. It was my fourth time attending, but for the first time, I felt like I was in the right place and knew exactly where I was going. Before, I always felt like a stranger, but this time I felt like this place belonged to me and that I had truly put down roots there.