by Folktales
Im Ali and Abu Ali
Once, long ago, there was a poor outcast of a man, and no one was willing to give him work. His name was Sparrow, and his wife's name was Locust. One day she started to grumble.
"Don't you fear Allah?" she said. "Your children are dying of hunger. Don't we need to eat? Don't we need to drink? Why don't you find some work?"
"There is no work I can do," he answered.
"In that case," she continued, "come let me sew straps on this pouch, which has a copy of the Qur'an in it (he couldn't read or write), so you can hang it over your shoulder. Every Thursday go to the cemetery, and you're bound to bring home some bread for your children."
"By Allah that's a good suggestion," he said, "except that I don't know how to read."
"And do you think anyone's going to be listening to what you're reading?" she asked. "Just take hold of the Qur'an, open it, and mumble something."
Strapping the Qur'an across his shoulder, he went to the cemetery, opened the book, and stood there, you might say reading from it. Wherever he saw people gathering around a fresh grave, he stood by them and mumbled as if reading.
"Make way for the sheikh!" people shouted. "Let the sheikh have a place to sit! Bring fruits over here for the sheikh! Gather the cakes for the sheikh!"
His bag full, he went home and emptied it out for his children. They ate from it from one Thursday to the next.
The following Thursday, as chance would have it, the mother of the king's wife died.
"Go call the sheikh!"
They went and said to him, "Come to the king's wife. Her mother has died, and she wants to give you alms."
Taking the Qur'an with him, he went and mumbled something, swaying from side to side. The king's wife gathered a little from everything she had brought and gave it to the sheikh, saying, "Venerable sheikh, will you come back next Thursday?"
"I'm at your service," he answered.
On the third Thursday he went to see her. Now, the king's wife was in her ninth month and was expecting at any moment.
"Honorable sheikh," she said, "you must divine for me. What am I going to have? A boy? Or a girl?"
"What am I going to do?" he thought. "If I say 'a girl' and she has a boy, the king will cut off my head. And ill say 'a boy' and she has a girl, he'll cut off my head. What a trap this is! What am I going to do? What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Sparrow! May fate let you down, Locust! How did you manage to get Sparrow into this fix?"
"There!" he said to his wife when he went home. "You weren't satisfied until you made me work. What's this mess I've gotten myself into?"
"Is that all?" she answered. "Divine for her, and whatever you feel like saying, say it. And on the day of reckoning, Allah mill help."
When he came to see the king's wife the following day, she asked, "Did you, Allah willing, do the divination?"
"Yes, by Allah," he answered. "I read your fortune in the sand. You're going to have a boy and a girl."
"Will I give birth in the palace upstairs, or downstairs?" she asked.
"You'll give birth upstairs and downstairs," he said.
And so, the following day, behold! a messenger came from the king's wife.
"What news of the king's wife?"
"When she was in the palace downstairs," he reported, "she went into labor. 'Go bring the midwife!' they said, but while waiting for her she gave birth to her first baby. Thinking she had finished, they took her to her room upstairs in the palace, and when the midwife arrived she said there was still another baby inside her, and she gave birth to it upstairs."
Now, she had told the king that the sheikh had divined for her and had said she would give birth to a boy and a girl upstairs and downstairs. When the news reached the king, the good news that his wife had given birth to a boy and a girl, he said to Sparrow, "It's settled! From now on I'm going to let you divine everything that may happen around here." The king then showed him his favor, giving him what fate decreed should be his share.
"Woe to you, Locust!" said Sparrow when he went home. "The king says such and such, and I can't read or write. How can I divine for the king?"
"When the day of reckoning comes," she answered, "Allah will come to the rescue."
One day the king went down to the orchard to take the air and lost track of time. When he came to do his ablutions so he could pray, he took off the royal ring and put it aside. Now, there was a boy roaming the fields and tending a flock of ducks and geese. A one-eyed goose, while pecking around, happened to swallow the ring, and the boy was afraid to tell the king. When he had finished his ablutions and prayed, the king looked around for the ring; not finding it, he sent for the sheikh.
Now we go back to the boy, who went to sit by the gate. "The sheikh will find me out and tell the king," he thought, "and he'll cut off my head." Sitting by the gate, he waited, and when the sheikh came by he said, "I throw myself on Allah's mercy and yours. Such and such is the story, and I was too scared to tell the king for fear he'd cut off my head. I want you not to say anything. I'm afraid if the king knew he'd cut off my head."
"Don't worry," said the sheikh.
Going in to see the king, the sheikh said, "Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Such and such is the story of the ring," the king said.
"Your Majesty," said the sheikh, "do you keep geese and turkeys?"
"Yes."
"Your Majesty," continued the sheikh, "there's among them a one-eyed goose. Send someone to bring that one-eyed goose over here."
They went and searched and found it was true. There was a one-eyed goose. Taking hold of it, the sheikh slaughtered it, slit its gullet, and pulled the ring out before the king and the vizier, who were looking at each other [wondering], "What kind of creature is this, who has this knowledge?" The king accepted the ring and rewarded the sheikh, who gathered himself and went home.
Not many days had gone by when the sultans treasure chest was stolen.
"Send for Abu Ali!" he said. "Send for Abu Ali!"
When the sheikh came in, the king said, "You have forty days to divine who stole the treasury."
Again he went to his wife, crying out, "What a misfortune, Locust! You really got me into a mess! Where did the treasure chest disappear to, and how should I know who took it when I don't even know how to count? How am I to know when the forty days are up?"
"Don't worry, my good man," she said. "I'll count out forty pebbles and put them in your pockets. Every day, after you finish evening prayers, throw one of them away until they're all gone. Then you'll know the time's up."
Counting out forty pebbles and stuffing them in his pockets, she said, "After prayer in the evening, just before you eat dinner, throw one of them away."
That evening, after he had finished praying, he threw one of the pebbles away and said "Heh! This if the first of the forty."
Now, the treasury had been robbed by forty thieves.
"If tomorrow the sheikh were to divine in the sand," they whispered among each other, "he'd expose every single one of us. Let's go check up on him."
They sent one of them to check, but no sooner had he reached the door of the sheikh's house than the thief heard him say, "Heh! This is the first of the forty." Back to his mates he ran.
"Listen!" he said, "By Allah, before he even saw or became aware of me he knew who I was, because no sooner did I come near the house than he said, 'Heh! This is the first of the forty.'"
But they did not believe him, and one of them who thought himself clever said, "Tomorrow, I'll go myself."
The following day, just as it was turning dark, the thief headed for the house of the sheikh, who had barely finished evening prayer when, taking a pebble from his pocket, he tossed it out and said, "Heh! This is the second of the forty."
Back the thief went running, as fast as he could, and said to his mates, "Listen! By Allah, he's found us out one by one. It's best for us to knock on his door, go in to see him, an
d try to negotiate." So four or five, you might say, of the sensible ones among them went to Abu Ali's shack in the evening. One of them came forward to knock on the door, and 1o! the sheikh was saying, "Heh! This is the third of the forty."
"You see, by Allah," they whispered among themselves, "he knows each and every one of us." Then, going in to see him, they said, "We've come to you, O sheikh, so that you can save our souls."
"Allah is the only savior, my children," he said.
"We know," they continued, "that you've been divining to locate the sultans treasury. We're the ones who stole it."
"Yes," he answered, "I knew all along it was you."
"All right," they said, "we'll bring it back, but we beg you not to tell on us."
"You see that I know all," he said. "If even one para is missing, I will tell. Make absolutely sure not to spend any of it."
"Absolutely not!" they assured him.
"In that case," he replied, "bring it here to me and, for the sake of Allah, I'll let you go free. I won't say anything to the king."
Away they went, took up the chest, and brought it in to the sheikh. No sooner had they left than he went to see the king and said, "Your Majesty, the treasury has turned up."
"In only three days it turned up!" exclaimed the king.
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"At my house. Send someone to fetch it."
When they had gone, gotten the treasure chest, and come back, the king declared, "From now on, I won't even move anything from one place to another without consulting Abu Ali. And I won't walk from here to there except with Abu Ali at my side."
"O Ruler of the Age," the vizier broke in, "this man's condition is disgusting. Does someone like him walk with kings?"
"What does it have to do with you?" answered the king.
Now, in a distant country there was a prince whose palace was on an island in the sea, and he wanted to hold a party in it for the other kings, including our king.
"My vizier," said the king, "I want to send for Abu Ali. Let us take him with us."
"Why Abu Ali?" complained the vizier. "He doesn't know how to talk, how to sit in company, or even how to eat."
"Impossible," said the king. "I want to take him with me."
"The orders are yours to give," replied the vizier, "and the advice is yours to follow."
Sending for Abu Ali, they gave him a new suit of clothes with an aba and made him look good, and the king took him along to the palace. But no sooner had they arrived than they saw him leave the assembled kings, go running down the stairs, and sit outside on the sand. "Now my wife will be baking bread," he said to himself, moving his hands as if baking bread. "Now my wife will be cooking," he thought and made cooking motions in the sand with his hands. Meanwhile, the king's eye was on him.
"God knows what's going on," said the king to the vizier. "Abu Ali's divining something in the sand."
Abu Ali was now saying to himself, "Heh! Now she's finished cooking. Heh! Now she's serving the food. Come eat, children! Come, come, come!"
"Let's go! Let's go!" said this king to the other kings. "Let's go! Abu Ali's calling us. God knows what's going on.!"
And down came all the guests, running after the king. (See how the Lord can show his mercy!) No sooner had the guests rushed out of the palace than it came tumbling down. It turned out the ground on which it had been built was loose. Everyone stood, looking at it in amazement.
"See, my vizier," he said, "what would have happened if we hadn't brought Abu Ali with us?"
But as they were standing around looking at the remains of the palace, lo! a bird with a locust in its beak flew into the king's sleeve. The king held it in his sleeve without knowing what it was.
"Abu Ali," he said, "tell me what's in my sleeve?"
"By Allah, O Ruler of the Age," answered Abu Ali, "tales and complaints are neverending. If not for Locust, Sparrow wouldn't have been caught!"
The king shook his sleeve open, and behold! a sparrow with a locust in its beak flew out.
"See, my vizier," he said. "Even I didn't know what was in my sleeve."
"Abu Ali Abu Ali!" everyone exclaimed as they went home.
"What next, O Ruler of the Age!" said the vizier. "A natural imbecile who speaks whatever comes into his head trusting to Allah's mercy, and what he says just happens to come out right! Just let me give him this one test, and if he passes, I'm convinced. But what if he doesn't pass?"
"You can do with him whatever you like," said the king.
"Good," said the vizier, and he brought together a plate of prickly pear, one of honey, another of yogurt, and a fourth of tar. Covering them all with a platter, he said, "Send for the sheikh."
"Abu Ali," he said when the sheikh arrived, "you must tell me what's under this platter."
This poor man - how could he know?
"By Allah, Your Excellency," he said, "we've seen days blacker than tar and more bitter than myrrh. But Allah has also blessed us with days whiter than yogurt and sweeter than honey."
"How about it now!" exclaimed the king. "What do you say, my vizier?"
"Nothing," answered the vizier. "I'm convinced."
This is my tale, I've told it, and in your hands I leave it.
Afterword
Relations in these tales not only go beyond the familial and societal but transcend the physical environment as well. Here the relationship is between the human and the divine, as based on a human being's acceptance of God's will as it is manifested on a day-to-day basis. Wisdom consists precisely in this continual trust in God's ultimate design for the universe.
The major characters in this group exhibit simplicity of heart and lack of guile, qualities that enable them to stay in touch with the workings of destiny. The woman who fell into the well does not hold a grudge against her brothers; she understands the social constraints that force them to behave as they do, yet she does not foolishly expose herself to their harm by remaining passive. Her actions demonstrate a dynamic acceptance of the workings of fate. In "The Rich Man and the Poor Man," this acceptance takes the form of contentment with one's lot in this life. The poor man's wife has a good relationship with her husband and does not aspire to become rich but is rewarded nevertheless, whereas the rich man's wife has a bad relationship with her husband, is not contented with her wealth, and becomes possessed with an all-consuming envy that in the end destroys her. Despite her poverty, the wife of the poor man does not envy her sister. Her craving for food stems from a biological need, and she tries to satisfy it within the limitations of her means. Her behavior exhibits qualifies of generosity and innocence totally lacking in her sister.
In "Maruf the Shoemaker," the title character's innocence is projected as boundless and unselfconscious generosity, which evokes an even more generous response on the part of the unseen powers that reward him. Because this innocence is powerless against evil, as represented by the vizier, it needs outside support to survive - which Maruf's second wife unfailingly provides. And in "Im Ali and Abu Ali," the main character is a sort of divine fool who is also a husband and a father. His major worry concerns providing his family with enough food, yet his simple actions in earning his living echo with deep meaning for the perceptive listener. No doubt all four of these tales are moral, or philosophical, tales, but fortunately they are not moralistic. They provoke thought based on simple acceptance of fate at the level of everyday experience.
A word of explanation is necessary at this point. One frequently finds pejorative references to the people of the Middle East as "fatalists," even by prominent scholars. Yet fate has a different meaning in the Islamic and Arab worlds than in the Christian and Western worlds. To the Westerner, the notion of fate implies a blind force that controls everything. Belief in this force would negate the belief in freedom of will that forms the ethical basis for the culture of individualism prevalent in Europe and North America. To Christians in the West, this belief would
also negate one's conviction that God was so graciously disposed toward this world that He was incarnated to "save" it. To a Muslim, in contrast (and to Christian Arabs), fate is not a blind force but simply the will of God, who is the essence of mercy and compassion. Certainly the characters in our tales are not fatalistic. They act, and they reap rich rewards. Action is rewarded, not fatalistic acceptance.
Fate has a different meaning, and it functions differently, in each tale. It is not only a system of belief about the world but also an attitude of acceptance of that which is - even when it appears to be incredible, as in the last tale. There are no random events or coincidences; everything that happens is God's will. The man and the woman in "The Woman Who Fell into the Well" both readily accept what befalls them, exclaiming, "There is no power or strength save in Allah!" upon falling into the well. Whether as a humble shoemaker or the king's son-in-law, Maruf accepts his destiny with equanimity. Like Abu Ali, he exhibits a quality of trust in Allah that shields him from all harm. His generosity is literally selfless: he has no self to protect. The same holds true for the poor man's wife, whose generosity of spirit does not diminish even after she acquires immense wealth.
In "The Rich Man and the Poor Man" and "Im Ali and Abu Ali," fate works like a supernatural force that brings magic into the world; it is the creative power that shapes events, combining the usual with the unusual - or, as in these two tales, transforming the usual into the extraordinary. It is aided in this process by the creative power of language, which is the silent parruer in all literature. The creative role of language in the folktale is made explicit in the last tale, where the pun on the name of the character and his use of imagery at the end serve to bridge the gap between the imaginative and the real.
By shaping events in time, fate also shapes the plots of the tales. Only when the events in time are understood to unfold according to a meaningful sequence does the notion of plot make sense. This process works most clearly in "The Woman Who Fell into the Well," where one action inevitably leads to another and another, until finally the woman is reunited with her brothers. Here again, language helps us to understand how fate works, the names of the children in the tale (Maktub, "that which is written," and Kutbe, "the writing") providing the necessary clues. Although these names would be perfectly acceptable for a boy and a girl, they do not occur in actuality. Their use here exemplifies the metaphorical significance of writing to indicate the fixity of fate. It is said that one's fate is "written on one's forehead," or of an event, that it was "written," that is, it was bound to happen. Yet even though the order of events is preordained, new combinations - new plots - are continuously brought into being, such as the marriage of the traveling salesman to the woman and the birth of their children. Thus fate works both as a creative and a determinative principle.