ABOUT THE BOOK:
Muhammad has always been the perfect son.
In Cape Town’s close-knit Muslim community, he prays on time, follows the rules, and lives up to his devout mother Zaynab’s expectations. But beneath his carefully constructed façade, Muhammad feels suffocated by the weight of who he truly is, and who he is supposed to be.
One evening at a braai, he meets Riyaaz – and everything changes. From that moment, Muhammad must navigate the uncertainty between his duty and the truth.
Set against the rich tapestry of Cape Malay culture, Muhammad’s story captures a world where tradition and modernity collide. Here, the sacred rhythms of prayer exist alongside secrets that threaten to tear his world apart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charles is a playwright, poet and novelist. He obtained his MA in Creative Writing with cum laude from the University of Cape Town, where he was mentored and supervised by Imraan Coovadia. He is currently an English teacher at a high school in Cape Town. Haram is his debut novel.
Four questions for Zubayr Charles:
Why did you write Haram?
Haram began as a series of diary entries I wrote when I was 18. At the time, I was navigating many trials and tribulations with my anxiety and depression, and writing became a way to honestly explore what I was enduring, particularly as I had no one to speak to. Seven years later, whilst completing my master’s in creative writing, I revisited the thoughts and emotions of my younger self. Rather than presenting the work as a memoir, I realised it would be more powerful to use that material as the foundation for a fictional world. By changing the structure of the story and removing myself from it, I was able to reflect more clearly on my destructive past – particularly my addiction to partying and Cape Town’s fast-paced nightlife. Fiction offered the distance needed to examine those experiences with honesty, insight, and rigorous self-scrutiny.
How did you decide on the title?
The title ‘Haram’ refers to the Arabic word for “forbidden”. After growing up in a highly religious community, grounded in Islamic values, I became aware that many aspects of life that are deemed haram are also treated as taboo topics – these aspects are rarely openly discussed by our elders. As teenagers, we were warned to steer clear of haram acts and worldly pleasures, yet little guidance was offered on what happens when curiosity and desire inevitably arise in this Westernised world we live in. There is rarely any space for people to confront or speak honestly about their mistakes or going against the teachings of Islam. I wanted the novel to create that space for introspection. The title operates on two levels: The first half of the story deals with the protagonist’s reflections on his forbidden desires and the exploration of his sexuality. His struggle to understand his place in the world leads the second half of the novel to engage with another haram aspect - his reliance on alcohol and his addiction to Cape Town’s party scene.
Your one-man show Please, don’t call me moffie made its debut at Suidoosterfees last year. How did writing a novel compare with writing and directing a play?
Writing a play is more immediate; the focus is largely on dialogue and the overarching storyline, and the work is brought to life through collaboration. In theatre-making, I can bounce ideas off actors, the stage manager, and other creatives, and the elements such as sound, lighting, and overall performance all help to shape and enhance the story for an audience. Writing a novel, however, has been isolating. There are no sound cues, lighting, actors, or other theatrical elements. Every detail must be alive on the page. Ultimately, as a creative, I want to keep working across mediums, and I don’t want to pigeonhole myself. I’m grateful that my poetry collection the sad boy’s starter pack and other poems will also be released in March.
Who should read the book?
Haram is for readers interested in stories that engage honestly with difficult and often silenced subjects. The novel explores three central themes: identity and sexuality, anxiety and depression, and addiction to alcohol and partying – topics that remain taboo in many cultures and communities. It is not written to sensationalise these experiences, nor does it promote any political or religious agenda. Rather, the novel speaks to individuals who are grappling with questions of identity and addiction, as well as to those who may struggle to understand these experiences from the outside. I hope Haram serves as an eye-opener, fostering empathy, reflection, and conversation where silence has long existed.
