The old woman came forth. ‘Back in my country, I’m a midwife,’ she said. ‘She got pregnant as a result of my efforts, and I should be the one to deliver her. I don’t want anyone but me to be around.’
‘Fine,’ people agreed. In a while, word went out: ‘She gave birth! She gave birth!’
‘And what did she give birth to?’
‘She gave birth to a boy.’
Wrapping the doll up, the wife placed it in the crib. People were saying, ‘She gave birth to a boy!’ They went up to the sultan and said she had given birth to a boy. The crier made his rounds, announcing to the townspeople that it was forbidden to eat or drink except at the sultan’s house for the next week.
Now, the old woman made it known that no one was permitted to see the baby until seven days had passed. On the seventh day it was announced that the sultan’s wife and the baby were going to the public baths. Meanwhile, every day the wife asked the old woman, ‘What am I going to do, grandmother? What if my husband should find out?’ And the old woman would reply, ‘Rest easy, my dear! The evening’s coals are the morning’s ashes.’
On the seventh day the baths were reserved for the sultan’s wife. Taking fresh clothes with them, the women went, accompanied by a servant. The sultan’s wife went into the bath, and the women set the servant in front of the doll, saying to her, ‘Take care of the boy! Watch out that some dog doesn’t stray in and snatch him away!’
In a while the servant’s attention wandered, and a dog came, grabbed the doll, and ran away with it. After him ran the servant, shouting, ‘Shame on you! Leave the son of my master alone!’ But the dog just kept running, munching on the doll.
It is said that there was a man in that city who was suffering from extreme depression. He had been that way for seven years and no one could cure him. Now, the moment he saw a dog running with a servant fast behind him shouting, ‘Leave the son of my master alone!’ he started to laugh. And he laughed and laughed till his heartsickness melted away and he was well again. Rushing out, he asked her, ‘What’s your story? I see you running behind a dog who has snatched away a doll, and you’re shouting at him to leave the son of your master alone. What’s going on?’
‘Such and such is the story,’ she answered.
This man had a sister who had just given birth to twin boys seven days before. Sending for her, he said, ‘Sister, won’t you put one of your boys at my disposal?’
‘Yes,’ she said, giving him one of her babies.
The sultan’s wife took him and went home. People came to congratulate her. How happy she was!
After some time the old woman said, ‘You know, grandchildren, I think my dough must have risen, and I want to go home and bake the bread.’
‘Why don’t you stay?’ they begged her. ‘You brought blessings with you.’ I don’t know what else they said, but she answered, ‘No. The land is longing for its people. I want to go home.’
They put her on a boat, filling it with gifts, and said, ‘Go in Allah’s safekeeping!’
When she came home, she put her gifts away and rested for a day or two. Then she checked her dough. ‘Yee, by Allah!’ she exclaimed. My dough hasn’t risen yet. I’m going to the seashore for a good time.’ At the shore she sat for a while, and lo! there was a boat.
‘Where are you going, uncle?’
‘By Allah, we’re going to Aleppo,’ they answered.
‘Take me with you.’
‘Leave me alone, old woman. The boat’s full and there’s no room.’
‘If you don’t take me with you, may your boat get stuck and sink in the sea!’
They set out, but in a while the boat was about to sink. They returned and called the old lady over, taking her with them. Being a stranger, where was she to go? She sat down by a wall, with people coming and going until late in the evening. After everybody had gone home for the night, a man passed by.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘By Allah, I’m a stranger in town. I don’t know anyone, and here I am, sitting by this wall.’
‘Is it right you should be sitting here in the street? Come, get up and go home with me.’
Getting up, she went with him. Again, there was only he and his wife. They had no children or anybody else. They ate and enjoyed themselves, and everything was fine, but when time came for sleep he fetched a bundle of sticks and beat his wife until he had broken the sticks on her sides. The second day the same thing happened. On the third day the old woman said, ‘By Allah, I want to find out why this man beats his wife like this.’
She asked her, and the wife replied, ‘By Allah, there’s nothing the matter with me, except that once my husband brought home a bunch of black grapes. I put them on a bone-white platter and brought them in. “Yee!” I said, “How beautiful is the black on the white!” Then he sprang up and said, “So! May so-and-so of yours be damned! You’ve been keeping a black slave for a lover behind my back!” I protested that I had only meant the grapes, but he wouldn’t believe me. Every day he brings a bundle of sticks and beats me.’
‘I’ll save you,’ said the old woman. ‘Go and buy some black grapes and put them on a bone-white platter.’
In the evening, after he had had his dinner, the wife brought the grapes and served them. The old woman then jumped in and said, ‘Yee! You see, son. By Allah, there’s nothing more beautiful than the black on the white!’
‘So!’ he exclaimed, shaking his head. ‘It’s not only my wife who says this! You’re an old lady and say the same thing. It turns out my wife hasn’t done anything, and I’ve been treating her like this!’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve been beating her just for that!’ exclaimed the old woman. ‘What! Have you lost your mind? Look here! Don’t you see how beautiful are these black grapes on this white plate?’
It is said they became good friends, and the husband stopped beating his wife. Having stayed with them a few more months, the old woman said, ‘The land has been longing for its people. Maybe my dough has risen by now. I want to go home.’
‘Stay, old lady!’ they said. ‘You brought us blessings.’
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I want to go home.’
They prepared a boat for her and filled it with food and other provisions. She gathered herself together and went home. There, in her own house, after she had sat down, rested, and put her things away, she checked the dough. ‘By Allah,’ she said, ‘it has just begun to rise, and I might as well take it to the baker.’ She took it to the baker, who baked her bread.
This is my tale, I’ve told it, and in your hands I leave it.
THE UNTRUE WIFE’S SONG
(USA: NORTH CAROLINA)
nce a man an’ his wife were ridin’ on a ship. One day the man was talkin’ to the captain, an’ they got to talkin’ about women. The captain said he’d never seen a virtuous woman. The man said his wife was virtuous, and the captain bet the ship’s cargo against the man’s fiddle that he could seduce the man’s wife within three hours. The man sent his wife up to the captain’s cabin. After waiting for two hours the man became a little uneasy, so he walked by the captain’s cabin, an’ played on his fiddle an’ sang:
For two long hours
You’ve resisted the captain’s powers.
The cargo will soon be ours.
His wife heard him, an’ from within she sang back:
Too late, too late, my dear,
He has me around the middle;
Too late, too late, my dear,
You’ve lost your damned old fiddle.
THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED HER SON
(PALESTINIAN ARAB)
nce upon a time there was a woman. She went out to gather wood, and gave birth to a daughter. She wrapped the baby in a rag, tossed her under a tree, and went on her way. The birds came, built a nest around the baby, and fed her.
The girl grew up. One day she was sitting in a tree next to a pool. How beautiful she was! (Praise the creator of beauty, and the Creator is more beautiful th
an all!) Her face was like the moon. The son of the sultan came to the pool to water his mare, but the mare drew back, startled. He dismounted to find out what the matter was, and he saw the girl in the tree, lighting up the whole place with her beauty. He took her with him, drew up a marriage contract, and married her.
When the time for pilgrimage came, the son of the sultan decided to go on the hajj. ‘Take care of my wife until I return from the hajj,’ he said to his mother.
Now the mother was very jealous of her daughter-in-law, and as soon as her son departed she threw his wife out of the house. Going over to the neighbour’s house, the wife lived with them, working as a servant. The mother dug a grave in the palace garden and buried a sheep in it. She then dyed her hair black and put on make-up to make herself look young and pretty. She lived in the palace, acting as if she were her son’s wife.
When he came back from the hajj, the son was taken in by his mother’s disguise and thought her his wife. He asked her about his mother, and she said, ‘Your mother died, and she is buried in the palace garden.’
After she slept with her son, the mother became pregnant and started to crave things. ‘My good man,’ she said to her son, ‘bring me a bunch of sour grapes from our neighbour’s vine!’ The son sent one of the women servants to ask for the grapes. When the servant knocked on the neighbour’s door, the wife of the sultan’s son opened it.
‘O mistress of our mistress,’ said the servant, ‘you whose palace is next to ours, give me a bunch of sour grapes to satisfy the craving on our side!’
‘My mother gave birth to me in the wilderness,’ answered the wife, ‘and over me birds have built their nests. The sultan’s son has taken his mother to wife, and now wants to satisfy her craving at my expense! Come down, O scissors, and cut out her tongue, lest she betray my secret!’ The scissors came down and cut out the servant’s tongue. She went home mumbling so badly no one could understand what she was saying.
The son of the sultan then sent one of his men servants to fetch the bunch of sour grapes. The servant went, knocked on the door, and said, ‘O mistress of our mistress, you whose palace is next to ours, give me a bunch of sour grapes to satisfy the craving on our side!’
‘My mother gave birth to me in the wilderness,’ answered the wife of the sultan’s son, ‘and over me birds have built their nests. The sultan’s son has taken his mother to wife, and now wants to satisfy her craving at my expense! Come down, O scissors, and cut out his tongue, lest he betray my secret!’ The scissors came down and cut out his tongue.
Finally the son of the sultan himself went and knocked on the door. ‘O mistress of our mistress,’ he said, ‘you whose palace is next to ours, give me a bunch of sour grapes to satisfy the craving on our side!’
‘My mother gave birth to me in the wilderness, and over me birds have built their nests. The king’s son has taken his mother to wife, and now wants to satisfy her craving at my expense! Come down, O scissors, and cut out his tongue. But I can’t find it in myself to let it happen!’ The scissors came down and hovered around him, but did not cut out his tongue.
The sultan’s son understood. He went and dug up the grave in the garden, and behold! there was a sheep in it. When he was certain that his wife was actually his mother, he sent for the crier. ‘Let him who loves the Prophet,’ the call went out, ‘bring a bundle of wood and a burning coal!’
The son of the sultan then lit the fire.
Hail, hail! Finished is our tale.
DUANG AND HIS WILD LIFE
(SUDAN: DINKA)
mou was so beautiful. She was betrothed to a man from the tribe. But she was not yet given to her betrothed. She still lived with her family.
There was a man called Duang in a neighbouring village. Duang’s father said to him, ‘My son, Duang, it is high time you married.’
‘Father,’ replied Duang, ‘I cannot marry; I have not yet found the girl of my heart.’
‘But my son,’ argued his father, ‘I want you to marry while I am alive. I may not live long enough to attend your marriage.’
‘I will look, Father,’ said Duang, ‘but I will marry only when I find the girl of my heart.’
‘Very well, my son,’ said his father with understanding.
They lived together until the father died. Duang did not marry. Then his mother died. He did not marry.
These deaths made him abandon himself in mourning; so he no longer took care of his appearance. His mourning hair grew long and wild. He never shaved or groomed his hair. He was a very rich man. His cattle-byres were full of cattle, sheep and goats.
One day he left for a trip to a nearby tribe. On the way he heard the drums beating loud. He followed the sounds of the drums and found people dancing. So he stood and watched the dance.
In the dance was the girl called Amou. When she saw him standing, she left the dance and went near him. She greeted him. They stood talking. When the relatives of the man who was betrothed to Amou saw her, they became disturbed. ‘Why should Amou leave the dance to greet a man who was merely watching? And then she dared to stand and talk with him! Who is the man, anyway?’
They called her and asked her. She answered, ‘I don’t see anything wrong! I saw the man looking as though he were a stranger who needed help. So I went to greet him in case he wanted something. There is nothing more to it.’
They dismissed the matter, although they were not convinced. Amou did not go back to the dance. She went and talked to the man again. She invited him to her family’s home. So they left the dance and went. She seated him and gave him water. She cooked for him and served him.
The man spent two days in her house and then left and returned home. He went and called his relatives and told them that he had found the girl of his heart. They took cattle and returned to Amou’s village.
The man who had betrothed Amou had paid thirty cows. Amou’s relatives sent them back and accepted Duang’s cattle. The marriage was completed, and Amou was given to her husband.
She went with him and gave birth to a daughter, called Kiliingdit. Then she had a son. She and her husband lived alone with their children. Then she conceived her third child. While she was pregnant, her husband was in the cattle camp. But when she gave birth, he came home to visit her and stay with them for the first few days after her delivery.
After she delivered, she felt a very strong craving for meat. She was still newly delivered. She said to her husband, ‘I am dying of craving for meat. I cannot even eat.’
Her husband said to her, ‘If it is my cattle you have your eyes on, I will not slaughter an animal merely because of your craving! What sort of a craving is this which requires the killing of livestock? I will not slaughter anything.’
That ended the discussion. But she still suffered and could not eat or work. She would just sit there.
Her husband became impatient and embittered by her craving. He slaughtered a lamb openly so that she and the others could see it. Then he went and killed a puppy dog secretly. He roasted both the lamb and the puppy in smouldering smudge.
When they were ready he took the dog meat to his wife in her women’s quarters. He grabbed his children by the hands and took them away with him to the male quarters. His wife protested, ‘Why are you taking the children away? Aren’t they eating with me?’
He said, ‘I thought you said you were dying of craving. I think it would be better for you and the children if you ate separately. They will share with me.’
He seated them next to him, and they ate together. She never doubted what he said, even though she felt insulted. That he would poison her was out of the question. So she ate her meat.
As soon as she ate her fill, her mouth started to drip with saliva. In a short while, she became rabid. Then she ran away, leaving her little baby behind.
Her husband took the boy to the cattle camp and left only the girl at home. She suffered very much taking care of her baby brother. Fearing that her mother might return rabid, she took the remainder
of her mother’s dog meat, dried it, and stored it. She would cook a portion of it and place it on a platform outside the hut together with some other food she had prepared.
For a while, her mother did not come. Then one night, she came. She stood outside the fence of the house and sang:
‘Kiliingdit, Kiliingdit,
Where has your father gone?’
Kiliingdit answered:
‘My father has gone to Juachnyiel,
Mother, your meat is on the platform,
Your food is on the platform,
The things with which you were poisoned.
Mother, shall we join you in the forest?
What sort of home is this without you?’
Her mother would take the food and share it with the lions. This went on for some time.
In the mean time, the woman’s brothers had not heard of her giving birth. One of them, called Bol because he was born after twins, said to the others, ‘Brothers, I think we should visit our sister. Maybe she has given birth and is now in some difficulties taking care of herself and the house.’
The little girl continued to labour hard looking after the baby and preparing food for the mother and themselves. She also had to protect herself and the baby so their mother would not find them and, having become a lioness, eat them.
She came again another night and sang. Kiliingdit replied as usual. Her mother ate and left.
In the mean time, Bol took his gourds full of milk and left for his sister’s home. He arrived in the daytime. When he saw the village so quiet, he feared that something might have gone wrong. ‘Is our sister really at home?’ he said to himself. ‘Perhaps what I was afraid of in my heart has occurred. Perhaps our sister died in childbirth and her husband with the children have gone away and abandoned the house!’
Another part of him said, ‘Don’t be foolish! What has killed her? She is a newly delivered mother and is confined inside the hut.’
Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales Page 38