Themes As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow Zoulfa Katouh

Sacrifice and Duty in As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow

Thematic Claim: Duty Woven with Self‑Preservation

In As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow, sacrifice and duty are not simple binaries. The novel proposes that true duty is not blind self‑abandonment but the painful, ongoing choice to act for others while preserving one’s own humanity. Protagonist Salama Kassab must navigate a siege where her obligations to family, patients, and country collide. Through her journey, Zoulfa Katouh shows that sacrifice loses its meaning if it destroys the self, and that duty often demands a heartbreaking balance between staying and leaving.

Tracing the Theme Through the Plot

1. Salama’s Promise vs. Her Role as Pharmacist

Early in the siege, Salama makes a vow to her brother Hamza: she will get his pregnant wife Layla out of Syria. Yet she cannot abandon her post at the hospital, where she is the only pharmacist left in three neighborhoods. The epigraph — a line by Nizar Qabbani about lemons and children — already frames her duty to future generations. In chapter 1, she buys shriveled lemons and pita, then argues with Layla about fleeing. Layla insists that “life is more than survival” and that the revolution is about reclaiming their lives. Salama retreats, haunted by Khawf, the personification of her fear. Khawf forces her to relive her mother’s death, accusing her of breaking her promise. This moment captures the core conflict: duty to the sick and duty to family seem irreconcilable. Salama’s hesitation is not cowardice but a recognition that both duties are real. She eventually accepts that staying in Homs until she dies would fulfill neither obligation; she must sacrifice her role as pharmacist to honor her promise to Hamza.

2. Kenan’s Duty to Document the Revolution

Kenan provides a parallel struggle. He stays in Homs not out of stubbornness but from a deep sense of duty to record the atrocities. In chapter 9, he tells Salama that he uploads protest videos to YouTube, risking arrest and torture. “If I run away—if I don’t defend it, then who will?” he asks. His duty to the revolution and to the memory of Syria’s suffering clashes with his duty to his younger siblings, Lama and Yusuf, who are malnourished and traumatized. Salama sees in Kenan’s eyes the same fear she feels: that his sacrifice may destroy the very people he is trying to protect. By chapter 23, Kenan extracts a promise from Salama — if he is captured, she must save herself. This mirrors her own bargain with Layla. Kenan’s arc shows that duty can be reframed: protecting his siblings’ futures becomes a new form of revolutionary commitment. He ultimately leaves Homs, but continues his activism in Berlin and Toronto, proving that duty does not end at the border.

3. The Boat Escape and the Ultimate Sacrifice of Home

The novel’s climax forces the characters to sacrifice their homeland. In chapter 23, Salama tells Khawf that she is ready to face the consequences: “This is the price of a future with freedom.” She acknowledges that staying would mean certain death for Layla and her unborn child, but leaving means abandoning Syria, her past, and the graves of her parents. During the harrowing boat crossing in chapter 40, Salama, Kenan, Lama, and Yusuf nearly drown in the Mediterranean. Kenan urges his siblings to keep kicking, and they cling to memories of Syria — the apricots, the horses, the lanterns of Ramadan. They sacrifice their physical homeland, but they do not sacrifice their identity. The lemon tree that Salama grows in Toronto in the epilogue becomes a tangible symbol of that continuity. She nurtures the seedling even as she searches daily for news of Hamza. The sacrifice of home is not an end; it is a transformation of duty into memory and hope.

Character and Symbol Connections

  • Khawf: The hallucination that personifies Salama’s fear is a direct test of her duty. He forces her to confront her worst failures — her mother’s death, her brother’s disappearance — and to decide whether she will be paralyzed by guilt or act. When Salama finally chooses to leave, Khawf temporarily recedes, indicating that accepting sacrifice with clear purpose weakens fear’s grip.

  • Layla: As Salama’s sister-in-law and the mother of Hamza’s child, Layla embodies the future that duty must protect. She argues passionately for life, not mere survival. Her steadfast hope — “as long as the lemon trees grow” — reframes sacrifice: it is not about dying for a cause but about living fully for those who come after.

  • The Hijab: The hijab represents faith and identity. Salama never removes it, even during the sea crossing. Her hijab is a visible duty to God and to her heritage. It anchors her as she makes the most painful sacrifices, reminding her that duty to the divine and to family are intertwined.

  • The Color Blue: In symbol of blue, Layla paints a scene of gray with blue scraped between the streaks — a metaphor for hope within devastation. Duty, like blue, must be scraped into the gray of war.

Complexity and Contradiction

The novel refuses to romanticize sacrifice. Salama’s decision to leave the hospital feels like betrayal to her colleagues. Kenan’s decision to leave Syria is shadowed by survivor’s guilt. The author’s note reveals that real Syrians have no such tidy exits; the compressed timeline of Layla’s pregnancy is a narrative device that does not erase the endless suffering. Even in the epilogue, Salama and Kenan still have nightmares, still search for lost family, still fight for activism. Sacrifice brings no guaranteed peace. Duty continues in their daily phone calls to Yusuf and Lama in Germany, in Salama’s videos and articles, in the lemon tree that takes months to show a green blade.

The most profound contradiction appears in the character of Dr. Ziad: he stays in Homs, performing surgeries without anesthesia, ultimately paying with his life. His sacrifice is heroic, yet the novel does not suggest that Salama should have done the same. By contrasting Dr. Ziad’s path with Salama’s, Katouh honors different forms of duty — one rooted in place, the other in the promise to a brother.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Salama’s promise to Hamza function as the novel’s central duty, and why is it so difficult for her to fulfill?
The promise — to get Layla out of Syria — conflicts with Salama’s duty to her patients at the hospital. She feels guilty about abandoning them during a medical crisis. Additionally, leaving means sacrificing her identity as a Syrian who resisted. Khawf amplifies this guilt by showing her worst-case outcomes. Fulfilling the promise requires her to prioritize familial duty over professional duty, a choice she resists until she sees Kenan’s siblings suffering the consequences of his activism.

2. In what ways does Kenan’s duty mirror Salama’s, and how does their relationship help each redefine sacrifice?
Both characters feel torn between personal loyalty and revolutionary commitment. Kenan records protests to expose the regime; Salama heals the wounded. They initially argue about leaving, but over time they learn that sacrifice can take different forms. Kenan’s final promise — that Salama must save herself if he is captured — mirrors her own agreement with Layla. Together, they decide that leaving Homs is not abandoning the revolution but continuing it from abroad. Their relationship models duty as mutual support, not isolation.

3. What role does Khawf play in Salama’s understanding of duty?
Khawf forces Salama to relive traumatic memories and questions her choices. He represents the paralyzing fear that true duty must overcome. When Salama finally stands up to him and declares she will leave, Khawf’s power weakens. By confronting her fear, she becomes capable of making a sacrifice that is not purely self-destructive. Khawf ultimately tests whether duty is driven by love or by terror.

4. How does the epilogue complicate the theme of sacrifice?
Even after reaching safety in Toronto, Salama and Kenan live with ongoing trauma. Sacrifice does not end; they continue activism through videos and writing, and Salama daily searches for Hamza’s name. The lemon tree, which takes months to sprout, symbolizes that sacrifice yields hope only with patience. The epilogue shows that duty to one’s country and family persists beyond exile—memory and action become new forms of sacred obligation.

5. Compare Layla’s view of duty with Salama’s. How do their perspectives influence the novel’s central moral argument?
Layla argues that the revolution is about living, not just surviving. She calls Salama’s hospital work “life” but insists that staying until death is not noble. Layla’s duty is to the future—to her unborn child and to a life worth living. Salama initially conflates duty with martyrdom, but Layla pushes her to see that duty can include self-preservation. The novel’s central argument emerges through their dialogue: true duty preserves the self so that one can continue to serve others, whether in Syria or abroad.