Abd el-Kader first came into my life in the late 1950s, when I was doing research on French education in colonial Algeria. The Algerian war for independence was in full swing, and I’d been asked to write a report to back up an international student group’s support for the university students of Algeria—meaning primarily the Muslim Algerians. My project gave me the sense that I was contributing something, however small, to history.
As I hunkered down in Harvard University’s library, reading everything I could find about the French in Algeria, naturally I came across references to Abd el-Kader. Just the highlights, though: young, dashing, and handsome, he led resistance to the French conquest in the 1830s and ’40s—and later, somehow, saved the lives of many Christians in Damascus.
A few months after finishing my report on education in Algeria, I found myself in Lebanon at the American University of Beirut. There I met the young man who would become my husband, Iliya Harik. His career as a professor of political science at Indiana University led to many sojourns in the Arab world, which inspired my own career as an author for young people, specializing in the Middle East.
But I never forgot the Emir Abd el-Kader—and when, in the fall of 2010, I was invited to write a biography of the Emir for young adults, I couldn’t say no. The immediate inspiration was the recently created Abd el-Kader Education Project. Its headquarters are in Elkader, Iowa, a small town actually named in honor of Abd el-Kader in 1846—improbable, but absolutely true! (One of the founders had been reading the American and British press about the Emir’s guerilla war against the French army, and he wanted to express his admiration for this colorful hero.)
The people of Elkader have always taken pride in this unusual aspect of their history, and in 2009 a group decided to start an essay contest for high school students. While the ultimate purpose is to encourage positive awareness of Islam and Muslim-Americans, the story of Abd el-Kader provides an appropriate focus because of his remarkable, many-sided character and concerns—especially interfaith bridge-building. A just-published biography of the Emir by John W. Kiser, titled Commander of the Faithful: The Life and Times of Emir Abd el-Kader, well researched and highly readable, launched the Abd el-Kader Education Project brilliantly. At the same time, the Project’s directors could see the additional need for a shorter, less detailed biography for teenage readers.
Moreover, our multi-ethnic, multi-faith American society certainly needs more books for young people that convey a positive view of Islam. What better way than true stories of individuals whose faith was—or is—an essential background to their accomplishments? What more dramatic and inspiring example than Abd el-Kader?
Learning about the Emir and writing his story has been a fascinating project for me, and all the more because of a curious personal connection that I discovered in the course of my research. Back in September of 1958 I was traveling to Beirut on a freighter, and one of the ports where we stopped was a small town in western Algeria. Its French name was Nemours, but in the past it was called Djemaa Ghazaouet, “pirates’ base”—yes, the very place where Abd el-Kader laid down his sword in 1847. At the time of my visit, a full 111 years later, the Algerians were once again embroiled in a struggle for freedom, with France and the colons, or settlers, still determined to keep Algeria French. Yet four years later, in 1962, the wheel of fortune would turn again and Algeria would be free.
Today, the struggle for freedom, justice, and acceptance of diverse faiths goes on in North Africa, the Middle East, and elsewhere, including our own country. I hope that in telling the story of Abd el-Kader, I can bring more attention to his message of peaceful, constructive, and inclusive coexistence.