Ha! Out of the corner of one eye he saw a hen and heard her calling:
“O Abu Ali the Fox!”
He made no reply and did not turn his head but continued on his way pretending he did not see or hear. The hen darted after him as fast as she was able and shrilled:
“What’s up with you, Abu Ali the Fox? Why don’t you look round when I call? Where are you off to?”
The fox stopped. Without turning, he said in a husky whisper:
“I am renouncing the world, dear Sister. I have foresworn the consumption of chicken. From now on my diet will consist of nothing but plants and herbs.”
The hen was astounded. She said:
“Are you calling me Sister? Why, you are my worst enemy!”
“We are all brothers and sisters. We are one family.” said the fox. “What I wish for now is to live in peace and quiet. I am going on the pilgrimage, on the Hajj, Sister. But don’t tell anyone.”
The hen said:
“Going on the Hajj? I beg you, take me with you. I won’t tell a soul.”
He said:
“I’ll take you with me on one condition: that you keep your distance. Don’t walk too close to me. I don’t want anyone who sees us to think I am planning to eat you up.”
The hen thanked him and obediently followed, walking a few steps behind him.
The fox continued on his way walking slowly, praising God and muttering prayers. But his eyes were alert. They surveyed everything around him.
Ha! From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a rooster and heard him calling:
“Hey! Abu Ali the Fox!”
But he pretended he hadn’t seen or heard him. So the rooster ran up to him and squawked at the top of his voice: “Where are you going, Abu Ali? What is the matter with you today? Didn’t you see me?”
Abu Ali the Fox stopped. Without looking round he replied, with a voice low and hoarse:
“I have renounced the world. I have made a vow. Never again will I eat roosters. From now on I will eat only fruit and vegetables.”
The rooster said:
“But you have been feeding off my fathers and forefathers for as long as anyone can remember.”
“The past is past. It’s history,” replied the fox. “Today I want to make my peace with everyone before I go on the Hajj.”
“The Hajj?” cried the rooster, “I beg you, take me with you.”
“I’ll take you with me,” said the fox. “But kindly walk behind me a little way. I don’t want those who see us to think that I want you for my dinner.”
The rooster thanked him and, doing as he was told, walked along beside the hen.
The fox went on walking, walking slowly, until he met a partridge who asked him:
“Where are you going, Abu Ali the Fox?”
“Haven’t you heard?” said the fox. “I have renounced the world and have vowed to eat no birds or fowl anymore. I am on my way to the Hajj with the rooster and the hen. Look, there they are.”
“But you are a born swindler, O Abu Ali the Fox. And you are not about to change your ways,” said the partridge. “How am I to believe that you have decided to atone for your sins?” The fox shook his head and softly said:
“I have taken an oath, Sister. I have sworn.”
“In that case,” said the bird, “please take me on the Hajj with the others.”
“Come with us then,” said the fox. “But walk at some distance behind me and without talking.”
So the partridge walked behind the fox along with the rooster and the hen, all of them humbly muttering prayers as they went. They walked and walked until they were tired and hungry and parched with thirst. The sun had set. Abu Ali the Fox said:
“Night has darkened, O my brothers. Let us rest here before continuing on our way. We can feast on grasses and seeds. By the grace of God, they are abundant at our feet.”
The birds pecked here and there and then went to roost. All were fast asleep except for Abu Ali the Fox’s stomach. For a week now he had subsisted on nothing more than bread and olives and all night long his stomach growled and rumbled. He was very, very hungry.
Next morning they all woke up. The birds foraged for their breakfast, picking up a seed here and a blade of grass there. As for Abu Ali the Fox, he sat watching them, thinking about the juicy flesh under their feathers and wondering which one of them to choose for his meal.
“O my brothers,” he said. “It is true that I have taken a vow to be vegetarian. However, I am going to make an exception: I will abstain from all meat except for the flesh of sinners. And you, O Hen, have sinned grievously.”
“Me?” shrieked the hen. “What have I done wrong?”
“All mothers,” said the fox, “call their young to nurse them. But with you, O Hen, it is a lot of cackle and no milk.”
“But…” began the hen.
“No ifs, ands, or buts,” interrupted the fox and, with that, he pounced on the hen and ate her up.
The travelers resumed their journey. The rooster and the partridge walked ahead in silence and dread while the fox kept an eye on them, following behind. Not many hours went by before the fox’s stomach began to rumble again. He was hungry. Eating the hen had given him an appetite. So he was ready to select his dinner.
“O brothers,” he said. “Let us rest awhile. It is time for a midday meal.” And he sat gazing at the rooster and the partridge as they pecked at the ground for grasses and seeds.
“Yes, dear Brothers,” he said, “I have vowed to eat no birds; no birds, that is, unless they are sinners. And you, O Rooster, have sinned greatly.”
The rooster stopped looking for seeds and cried, “I a sinner? On the contrary, I crow in the morning for the dawn to bring the light of day.”
“Yes, you crow and crow. But day dawns with or without a rooster’s crowing!” said the fox. And before the rooster could say another word, he fell upon him and devoured him.
Abu Ali the Fox walked on, with the partridge trotting in front of him silent and afraid, until night fell. Once more Abu Ali the Fox’s stomach growled with hunger.
“It is suppertime, O Partridge,” said the fox. “And I do declare that your sin is the biggest of all.”
“How can I be a sinner?” said the partridge. “I trouble no one. I make no sound. I neither crow nor sing. I am barely able to fly. I have to build my nest on the ground.”
The fox responded:
“The proverb says: ‘If you can’t afford to feast on veal, go hunt a partridge for your meal.’”
“What will you get out of me?” pleaded the partridge. “A dish of boiled wheat is more filling!”
“Good for nothing, are you?” said the fox, “That is reason enough to chew your bones.”
Screeching as loudly as she could, the partridge said:
“It’s true! You are right! Only give me a moment for a prayer, the time for a couple of genuflections before you gobble me up.”
Then the partridge moved to one side and, gathering all her strength, she batted her wings again and again until she lifted herself onto the branch of a tree.
“My only sin, O Abu Ali the Fox,” she said, “was that I believed you when you told me you were making amends for your past sins.”
So the fox remained hungry without any supper. And the partridge hopped from twig to twig happy in her freedom and her escape.
THE SUN HER MOTHER, THE MOON HER FATHER
It happened or maybe it didn’t.
Let us tell stories that amuse and delight.
Even if we sleep a little later tonight
Some on pillows stitched with pearls and coral rings;
Some on pillows full of lice and crawling things.
ONCE THERE WERE THREE GIRLS. Their mother and father were dead and they lived together in a small house at the outskirts of town. From their parents they had inherited a cow. Every day they milked their cow and fed it grass.
After milking one day, the young women set the milk to cool on a flat roc
k near the house. This was at sunset. Night fell and the girls forgot about the milk. It remained outside uncovered in the moonlight. Next morning at sunrise the youngest girl saw that the cream lay thick on the surface of the milk. Its silvery whiteness tempted her: it looked like pearls in sunlight. Dipping her finger she took a mouthful. How soft and sweet and fresh it was! She tasted it again and then some more until there was no cream left on the milk.
Well, the girl became pregnant.
Her sisters were thunderstruck and began to scold her.
“O dear Lord!” said the girl. “No one has visited me nor have I gone to see anyone. No one knows me and I know no one.”
Her sisters asked her whether she had left the house at any time without their knowing. She said she had only gone as far as the flat rock in the morning and had eaten the cream off the milk without telling them. But she had never gone any farther.
One of the sisters said, “All night long the face of the milk saw the face of the moon. Then, in the morning, it saw the face of the sun. The moon and the sun! The sun and the moon!”
Now they understood what had happened.
The nine months passed quickly and the young woman gave birth to a girl. Her sisters pulled the infant from her belly. It was a child of luminous beauty. And no wonder, with the sun for her mother and the moon her father! The three sisters cared for her; they taught her what they knew and raised her till she was grown. How they loved her! Nothing that she asked for did they refuse her. The anklets she wore were made of gold.
One day the girl joined her friends for an outing. As they were splashing barefoot in a lake nearby, one of the girl’s anklets fell into the water. She looked and looked but could not find it. So she went home without it.
Some days later, the king’s son happened to be riding past the lake. His horse was thirsty. Every time it bent its head down to the water to drink, it would flinch and step back. The prince slid off the saddle and went to see what the matter was. What he saw was sunlight bouncing off a golden anklet that glistened in the clear water. He reached down and pulled it out. Very carefully he examined it, turning it over in his hands. “Beautiful! And how delicate,” he said to himself and he took it with him back to the palace.
To his mother he said:
“Mother, O Mother, lay cobwebs on my bed
I burn with fever, I’ll soon be dead.”
She said:
“God save your heart and keep your soul! Tell me, what is wrong?”
He opened his hand and gave her the anklet:
“I want to marry the owner of this anklet or else I’ll die of longing.”
His mother told him that she would find him the girl and that she would begin the search the very next morning. Then he said:
“I beg you, dear Mother, when you find her say: ‘I want you as my daughter-in-law.’ Do this, even if she turns out to be a slave girl.”
Next morning, the king’s wife asked her friend, an old woman who lived in the palace, to undertake the errand and bring back any news.
The old woman took out a platter of gold, placed the anklet on it and covered it with a silken kerchief. Carrying this with her, she went from house to house, from building to building, knocking on doors and asking questions. She toured the city from end to end but found no trace of the girl. When she returned she said to the king’s wife:
“I circled the entire city. I could not find her.”
The king’s wife said:
“Tomorrow go out to the edge of town. She may live in one of the modest houses there.”
So the old woman returned to her task and knocked on doors and asked questions until she came to the house of the three sisters. When the young girl opened the door and saw her anklet she cried out, “That is my anklet, O Aunt!”
“So where is the one that matches it?” asked the old woman.
The girl lifted the hem of her robe and the old woman noticed how neat and white her bare ankle was. She compared the two golden jewels and when she was certain that they were a pair she hastened back to the palace. She informed the king’s wife that the girl was young and beautiful, like the full moon on its fourteenth night.
The king’s wife brought the good news to her son. Then she went and asked for the girl in marriage.
Now the preparations began. They brought her gold jewelry and new clothes and everything a bride might need. They adorned her and dressed her in wedding finery. The sheikh was summoned, and the marriage contract signed. Then the music sounded and celebrations continued for seven days and seven nights.
Before the girl left with her husband, her mother said to her:
“Go my child. God be with you! They say, ‘If you talk to a wall it will answer if only with an echo.’ May God answer my prayer and grant you joy.”
Her aunts instructed her:
“Because he is the king’s son you have to maintain your own position. Don’t say one word to him until he mentions your mother the sun and your father the moon.”
When the king’s son saw the girl face-to-face he forgot the dancing, the wedding, and the song. Her beauty held him like a spell. He took her by the hand and led her to his chamber. He asked:
“Tell me, shall we eat or play or sleep?”
She did not respond.
“Speak to me! Are you mute?” he asked.
She remained silent.
So it went, on the first day and the second day and the third.
“Love of my heart! Light of my eyes!” he pleaded. But it was no good. He was at a loss what to do. One day he asked the chambermaid:
“Does she talk to you?”
“She talks not only to me, but to the furniture, the wardrobe and the chair. Everything obeys her!” she said.
The king’s son was annoyed. He told the girl that he would discard her if she did not answer him. She kept silent. Then, after a while, he threatened to divorce her. Still she did not speak. Finally he told her that he was going to take a second wife, to be her co-wife. She said nothing.
The king’s son lost all patience. He married his cousin, his uncle’s daughter, warning her to have nothing to do with his first wife. They lived in a palace facing his old home. The new wife would steal glances at the old palace hoping to catch a glimpse of the first wife or hear something about her.
One day the king’s son said to the maidservant:
“Go to my old wife and tell her that your master feels like eating fish today.”
The maidservant went and gave the message:
“My master sent me to say that he feels like eating fish today.”
“You and your master are both welcome!” the first wife said.
Then, seated in her place, she pointed to the cooking stove and said, “Come!” The stove moved of its own accord, step-by-step, till it was at her side. Then she pointed at the frying pan: “Come!” The frying pan slid off the shelf and came. “Olive oil, pour! Fire, catch light!” Just so: pointing her finger and giving her orders without moving from her seat!
The maid could not believe her eyes; she sat open-mouthed, nailed to her spot.
When the oil was good and hot the first wife lowered her fingers into it. Stretching her fingers to show the span of her hand, she said: “The hand, my hand: the fish, my fish!” Ten times she spread her palms while the oil dripped from her fingers. Then she took ten fried fishes out of the pan, wrapped them in paper and gave them to the maidservant saying:
“I wish you and your master good health!”
The maidservant received the fish and hurried back to her master. She reproached him for marrying again when his first wife was so beautiful, and then described everything she had seen. The second wife heard it all and as soon as her husband left, she called the maid:
“Why are you so taken with her? Come and see for yourself! Anything she does I can do too – and do it better! Is she better than I am? No, I am as much the prince’s wife as she is!”
Sitting cross-legged on the floor she pointed to he
r cooking stove and said:
“Come, stove!”
The stove did not move. She raised her voice and repeated, “Come!” Then she shouted a third time. But the stove did not stir nor did the frying pan slide off the shelf or the fire light itself. So the second wife got up, put the frying pan on the stove and lit the fire to heat the oil. She dipped her fingers into the bubbling pan but before she could finish saying, “This hand, my hand…” there was a sizzling sound and she snatched out her hands. Her fingers were fried to a crisp and her scream, piercing as a whistle, could be heard right through the kitchen walls.
The maid ran to her lady’s husband wailing and weeping:
“God keep you whole, Master. My mistress is on fire! She is nothing but a heap of cinders.”
Another time the second wife noticed her rival sitting at the window weaving a sash of rose-colored wool. The first wife invited her to visit. But she said:
“My husband has forbidden me to talk to you.”
Just then the ball of pink yarn rolled off the sill and fell to the ground outside. The first wife seized a knife, cut off her hand and said:
“Go down. Bring me the wool.”
When the hand had retrieved the ball of yarn, the first wife took the wool, reattached her hand and continued to weave.
That evening the second wife wanted a glass of water. She was thinking to herself: “Is she better than I am? No, I am as much the prince’s wife as she is!” So she cut off her hand but before she could say, “Bring me a glass of…” her cries, loud as a bugle, could be heard beyond the palace roof.
The maid flew to her master yelling: “God keep you, Master! My mistress cut herself, she is bleeding rivers!”
On a third occasion the king’s son said to the maid:
“Go to my first wife and tell her that your master fancies a cluster of grapes from her grape arbor.”
The maid brought the message and the first wife said:
“Welcome to you and your master.”
First, she called to the basket, “Come!” And the basket stood before her. Then she pointed to the window: “Open!” And it swung open. Then she chose the most beautiful bunch of grapes and commanded it to fall into the basket, the basket to return inside, and the window to shut. Just so: she pointed her finger and gave her orders while she remained seated where she was.
Pearls on a Branch Page 3