Then the woman’s cat was called. “I didn’t want to eat all that meat,” said the cat. “She FORCED me to eat it.”
So the neighbor was rewarded all right—but not with gifts. She was given a good beating and sent back home.
THE LOST CITY OF UBAR
This tale was recounted by a man from Saudi Arabia who was visiting Kuwait.
It is said that once, long ago, a magnificent city stood in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, deep in the area called the Rub al-Kahli, the Empty Quarter. This is an enormous area of sand plains and sand dunes. Camel trains crossed the area, bringing frankincense and myrrh from Oman and Yemen north to trade. And somewhere in this desert stood Ubar. There is a fabulous tale told about Ubar.
The walls of Ubar are said to have been covered with gold and silver and encrusted with rubies. Its gardens were known as Jennat ‘Ad, the Paradise of ‘Ad. And beautiful ladies walked there whose bodies were as clear as crystal. This was the heavenly part of the city. In another area was a fiery furnace that served as the hell of the city.
The King of ‘Ad had everything he could possibly wish for, so one day he decided to fly up to heaven and kill Allah himself. He called all of the strongest eagles in the land to come to his palace and chose the strongest one of all to carry him aloft. By holding pieces of meat out in front of the bird, he was able to control its flight.
So he climbed on the eagle’s back and took off. The flight was a very long one, but two months later, he finally reached the gates of heaven. There he was stopped by some angels who asked him what he wanted up in heaven.
“I have come to find Allah,” he retorted. “I plan to kill him!”
The angels were horrified. “He is down below,” they misinformed him. “Go look for him there.”
So King ‘Ad leaned forward and tipped his stick with the meat down in front of the eagle. But he did this so suddenly that the eagle went into a steep dive. King ‘Ad fell off the eagle’s back.
He fell. But he fell so slowly that it took 20 years for him to reach earth. And as he fell, his body disintegrated until when it hit earth there was nothing left but his skull. And Allah caused the winds to cover that with sand and to also bury the entire city of Ubar in sand.
Years passed, and one day a wolf came upon the skull of ‘Ad. What a great place to shelter from the sun! So the wolf crept into the right eye of the skull and lay down in the cool interior. Then along came a gazelle, and he stepped into the left eye of the skull to find shade also. This skull of King ‘Ad was so large that neither was aware of the other.
Just then a Badawi man passed by and discovered the skull. He tapped on it with his camel stick to see if it was stone or bone. It was certainly too huge to be bone, but it looked like a man’s skull.
From within the skull came a deep voice, “Have no doubts. Do not laugh.”
The Badawi man was startled. He hurried to Solomon, the son of David, and told him what he had discovered. “I was riding through the desert,” he said, “when I spied something that looked like a gigantic skull sticking up from the sand. When I came near, a wolf rushed out of one eye socket, and a gazelle rushed out of the other. I rapped on the skull with my cane, and a voice came out of it: ‘Have no doubts. Do not laugh.’”
“Can you take me to see this strange thing?” asked King Solomon.
“I certainly can. I am a Badawi of the desert!”
“Well,” said King Solomon, “if all that you say is true, I will reward you with a weight of gold equal to your own weight. But if what you say is not true, I will put you in prison for this big lie.”
The Badawi man agreed, and they set off. After much traveling, they came to the giant skull. It was indeed lying there, half-buried in the sand.
But when King Solomon struck the skull with his stick, not a sound came from it. He tapped again. Silence. The Badawi man rapped hard on the skull. Still not a sound.
So King Solomon ordered his servants to put the man in jail.
As soon as the Badawi man was in jail, a voice came from the skull. “Didn’t I tell you? ‘Have no doubts. Do not laugh at me.’”
Now King Solomon was sorry that he had ordered the poor Badawi imprisoned. He called all of the birds of the air and asked them if they knew anything about a king called ‘Ad ibn Gin’ád. But the birds had never heard of such a king or such a kingdom.
At long last, a very old eagle arrived. This eagle was so old that the feathers had all fallen from its aged body. King Solomon asked this eagle if he had ever heard of a king called’ Ab ibn Gin’ád and a city of silver and gold called Ubar.
“If you can tell me about this king and this place, I will run my hand over your aged body and make all of your feathers grow back. You will become as a young bird once more.”
The eagle bowed and said, “Indeed, I do know of the ‘Ad ibn Gin’ád, and I can take you to the place where the city of Ubar lies hidden under the sands.”
So King Solomon ran his hand over all of the eagle’s featherless body, and new feathers grew. He was like a young bird again. Then he led King Solomon and his entourage across the sands for a very long way, and at last the eagle came to rest on a spot of sand.
“Here is the place,” said the eagle. “Beneath all this sand lies the lost city of Ubar.”
So King Solomon called up shimál, the northwest wind. And it came in a mighty dust storm. Then he called up kaus, the southeast wind, and it too blew a dust storm. Then he called on gharbi, the west wind, and sharqi, the east wind. And all of these winds blew and blew and blew . . . and gradually the lost city of Ubar began to emerge from beneath the sands.
Then King Solomon saw for himself the great palace of gold and silver and rubies. He saw the beautiful gardens and the fiery furnace. And seeing all of these amazements, he was afraid that people might get seduced by the wealth and become arrogant He feared they might end up like ‘Ab ibn Gin’ád. So he called the winds to blow again. And the shimál, the kaus, the gharbi, the sharqi all blew about until the city was covered once more and no one could tell where it might have lain.
To this day, the lost city of Ubar remains hidden beneath the desert sands . . . somewhere in the Rub al-Khali, the Empty Quarter of Arabia.
FOLKTALES FROM BAHRAIN
AZIZ, SON OF HIS MATERNAL UNCLE
Bu-Zaid’s sister had six sons and a daughter by her husband and a youngest son by another union. She called him “Aziz, Son of His Maternal Uncle.” Bu-Zaid asked his sister to lend him a son to help on his quest for the maiden Alya. She gave him her first son. He took the son into the desert, and when their rations and water ran out after several days, he said to this boy, “Serve me coffee.” Then Bu-Zaid went to sleep.
There was neither fire nor water available. When Bu-Zaid woke up, he found no coffee. In anger, he hit the boy and killed him. Then he returned to his sister and asked for another son.
Bu-Zaid repeated the same actions with this boy. And with the next and the next, until only the youngest son was left. He took Aziz into the dessert, and they traveled for several days, until their water and supplies had all run out. Then Bu-Zaid told Aziz, “Make me coffee.” And Bu-Zaid went to sleep.
It was midday, and there was no firewood and no water. Aziz took his own she-camel and ran it until it sweated. Then he collected the sweat and placed it in the coffee pot. He cut off the saddle ropes and set them on fire. When Bu-Zaid awoke, the coffee was ready.
Bu-Zaid realized that this Aziz, unlike his brothers, was a man capable of enduring hard times.
So Bu-Zaid set off for the country of Alya, with Aziz as companion. When they finally arrived, after much hard traveling, they heard drumming and saw dancing in the streets of the royal city. Alya, the sultan’s daughter, was to be married to her cousin that very day.
“How can I obtain that girl?” wondered Bu-Zaid.
“Uncle, you have grown old,” said Aziz. “I will bring her for you.”
“We will make ourselves into wandering poets,”
said Aziz. Aziz was a very handsome youth, and his uncle was dark-skinned. They dressed as poets and stood under the window and chanted.
Soldiers came and demanded what they were doing. “We are poets!” said Aziz. And he began to sing with the most beautiful voice.
Alya looked out her window to see what was going on. She was dressed in her wedding gown and looked so lovely. When she saw Aziz and heard his beautiful singing, she fell in love with him! She nodded to the guard to let Aziz and his uncle enter. To her father, she begged, “Father, allow these poets to enter. There is no proscription against poets coming to sing for us.” Her father agreed, but said that only one could enter. So Aziz came in.
Then the old woman who guarded the girls said, “O, Alya’s playmates, depart away from her. For a lion came for her from the farthest distance.”
So her girlfriends all left her alone with Aziz.
Aziz called to his uncle outside. “I will lower her to you with a rope.”
Alya was ready to go with him, but she said, “What about my cousin, whom I just married?”
“I will take your place in the wedding bed,” said Aziz.
So they exchanged clothing, and Alya was lowered out of the window to Bu-Zaid. And Aziz lay down on the wedding bed.
When the groom came in, Aziz turned his back to him. So the groom moved to the other side of the bed. Aziz turned his back to him. So the groom moved back to the other side of the bed. Aziz turned his back on him. And so it went for some time. But at last Aziz dozed off. Then the groom pulled back the veil and saw Aziz’s face. “This is a MAN!”
He roused the household shouting, “You, Alya’s family! This is not Alya! This is a MAN!”
Her mother came running. “Do not tread on our honor,” she said.
Then she thought and added, “Cut off one of Alya’s braids. Make a small wound on her leg. In the morning we will see if Alya has these marks.”
So the groom cut off one of the braids of Aziz, who had long hair himself. And he wounded Aziz in his leg with a knife.
Aziz woke in the morning to find his braid chopped off and a small wound in his leg. He realized that he had been marked. He lowered himself through the window and hurried to Bu-Zaid. “Quick, cut off one of Alya’s braids and make a small cut on her leg.” They did this and then returned her to her room.
Alya’s father was returning with the groom to check on the bride. “If what you claim is not true, I will kill you!” muttered the angry father. There was Alya lying on the bed, with one braid cut off and a wound on her leg. So that was the end of the groom.
That night Aziz returned and lowered Alya out the window once more. Then the three made their way toward the country of Aziz and Bu-Zaid. But on the way, they came to a spring. Bu-Zaid lowered a bucket for water, but the bucket fell. He wanted to go down into the well to get it, but Aziz said, “Uncle you have grown old. I will go down.”
Now Aziz did not realize this, but the wound on his leg must never touch water. He went into the spring and got the bucket with the water, but a bit of water sloshed onto his wound. And so the story ends sadly, as Aziz sickened and died.
When Bu-Zaid reached home without Aziz, the mother of Aziz cried, “Where is my son?”
“Before I tell you,” said Bu-Zaid, “go fetch a pot from a home whose walls have never been touched by grief. Go now and look for one.”
The mother went to all of the tribal homesteads. She was gone traveling and looking for months. When she finally returned, Bu-Zaid asked her, “Did you find a household that has not been touched by grief? Did you get the pot?”
“No,” she replied. “There is no household which has not been touched by grief.”
“And neither is yours,” replied Bu-Zaid. “Aziz has died.”
THE SPRINGS OF BAHRAIN
Bahrain was always known for its beautiful freshwater springs. These natural springs appeared both under the sea and on land. These springs were unusual on this dry Arabian Peninsula, and Bahrain families loved to bring their children to play in them.
A legend tells that these springs were caused by stars falling from the heavens. The stars broke holes in the ground which filled up with sparkling, heavenly water.
However, nowadays, many wells have been dug in Bahrain, and the groundwater is drained. So these beautiful springs are now dry.
Kuwaiti tents erected beneath power lines. An escape from city life. Photo by Margie Deemer.
Ladies walk by the sea in Kuwait. Traditionally Kuwaiti women wear black garments covering their persons when out of the home. More modest women cover their faces with a veil as well. Photo by Margie Deemer.
Banana vendor waits by a Kuwaiti roadside, sheltered by a billboard advertising a restaurant.
Traditional forms of architecture are used in modern buildings in Kuwait City. Photo by Margie Deemer.
Fishing boats, Faheel, Kuwait. Photo by Margie Deemer.
Men’s clothing vendor in Kuwait City. Photo by Margie Deemer.
FOLKTALES FROM KUWAIT
ABOUT JOUHA
Jouha tales are told throughout the Middle East. His name varies from region to region. Salma Khadra Jayyusi tells us that Juha is sometimes believed to have been Abu’l-Ghusn Dujain bin Thabit of the Fazara tribe, a person who lived in the 10th century.
In Turkey, similar stories are told about Khoja Nasruddin al-Rumi, who was born in 1208 and died in 1284 in a village in Anatolia. A Turkish friend told me he had visited the tomb of Khoja Nasruddin. The tomb had an enormous gate that was locked. However, there were no side fences, so he just walked around behind the gate to explore the tomb. It felt like a very visible final Khoja joke.
Here are three Jouha stories from Kuwait. For a Jouha story from Saudi Arabia, see page 7. For Jouha tales from Oman, see pages 50 and 52.
ANSWERING THE SCHOLAR
Once a famous scholar came to Jouha’s town. He challenged anyone to try and compete against him. His challenge was this: “I will ask 40 questions. You must give the same answer to all 40 questions.”
Jouha considered this easy enough. “State your questions,” Jouha said.
When the questions had all been put forth, Jouha said, “I have one answer for all 40 of your questions. My answer is, ‘I don’t know.’”
JOUHA SINGS FROM THE MINARET
An imam of the mosque sings the call to prayer from the minaret tower five times a day. Someone with a fine voice is usually given this privilege.
One day Jouha went to the public bath. He ended up alone in there, so he started singing. His voice echoed so beautifully off the marble floors and walls. He was very proud of his magnificent singing voice. As soon as he had finished his bath, he went up to the top of the minaret at the mosque and began to sing of the glory of Allah. But his voice was so horrible that everyone came running to stop the racket.
“Jouha come down at once!” they demanded. “Your voice is atrocious.”
“Just prepare me a bath up here,” responded Juha, “and you will be amazed at how beautiful my voice really is.”
A contemporary mosque in Kuwait. Notice the very tall minarets. The call to prayer still issues forth from these minarets six times daily.
COUNTING THE DAYS OF RAMADAN
Muslims must fast during the entire month of Ramadan. A lunar month is around 30 days long.
To keep track of the days of fasting during Ramadan, Jouha dropped a stone in a jar each day. His little daughter saw him doing that and began to drop many stones in the jar herself.
One day he was asked, “How many days remain in Ramadan, Jouha?”
“I’ll count up and see how many have passed,” replied Jouha. And he got out his jar of stones.
When he counted them he found 120 stones! “I can’t possibly tell them this,” he thought. “It sounds like way too many days.”
So he made up a number. “Forty days have passed so far this month,” he told them.
Everyone started to laugh at him.
“Let them
laugh,” he said to himself. “What would they have thought if I had told them the REAL number of days that have passed? When you are fasting, Ramadan seems to go on forever.”
CHOICES
A woman once went to the tyrant Al-Hajjaj, who had captured her brother, son, and husband and was holding them for execution. The woman stood wailing and wailing at the palace gates. At last Al-Hajjaj heard her and sent for her to be brought before him.
“Why do you wail and wail at my palace gates?” he wanted to know.
“You are holding prisoner three men of my family. You have my brother, my son, and my husband. These are the last three men of our family. What can we do with no man left to us?”
Al-Hajjaj was known for his cruelty and ruthless manner, but he did feel some pity for this woman’s plight. “I will grant you a boon, then,” he said. “You may choose the life of one of these three. But you must choose which to save.”
Immediately, the woman spoke. “Give me my brother.”
Al-Hajjaj was amazed at this. “Why did you not choose your son, or your husband?”
The woman replied, “Another son can be born. Another husband can be found. A brother would be lost forever.”
And when Al-Hajjaj asked what she meant by this, she explained, “I am young and can bear another son. I am attractive and can find another husband. But I can never replace a lost brother.”
All-Hajjaj understood her wisdom. He said to her, “Take your brother and go.”
THE HELPFUL DOG
This is retold from a story collected by folklorist Hasan M. El-Shamy. The story was told in August 1970 by Ruqayyah B., a 59-year-old former slave of African heritage living in Kuwait.
Folktales from the Arabian Peninsula Page 6