There were once three sisters who were very, very poor.
Their father brought home some meat and put it in the pot over the fire. But not waiting for the meat to finish cooking, each of the older daughters went and took meat from the pot and ate it. They kept reaching in and taking more and more until the youngest daughter grabbed the pot in anger and ran out with it. Her father and the two sisters chased after her. But she outran them, and her little dog ran off with her.
At last the girl sat down against the wall of the palace and fell asleep with exhaustion.
Along came the prince in his carriage drawn by six horses. “Who is this beautiful girl sleeping beside my palace?”
The prince had the girl and her dog taken into the palace, and he asked that she be dressed in fine clothing. When he saw how very beautiful she was now, he insisted on marrying her. At first his father, the king, objected. But in the end the prince got his way.
Now the girl and her little dog lived so happily in the palace with the king.
But one day when she was sitting with the prince, she remembered her days of poverty and laughed.
“Why do you laugh?” asked the prince.
“Because your beard reminded me of the broom in my father’s house.”
The prince showed offense at this, so the girl quickly lied. “That broom is made of gold and pearl beads.”
The girl now feared that the prince might learn the truth about her family. But the little dog said, “Don’t worry. I will find a way for you to fool him.”
Sometime later, the dog said, “I have been searching, and I found a rich man who is dying. He has just confessed to his family that he has a daughter from another wife. As soon as he dies, you must go and tell them that you are his daughter.”
The girl did just as the dog advised her, and the family accepted her without question. Now she had a respectable family to present to the prince as her family. When the prince came to visit them, he did indeed see a broom there that was made of gold and pearl beads.
The dog now decided to test the girl’s love for him. He pretended to be sick. And the girl ignored him and just told the servants to take him down to the kitchen and keep the sick dog there. Then the dog pretended to be dead, and the girl just told the servants to toss his body out.
At that, the dog came to her and chided her. “I cannot believe you would treat me in this unfeeling way after all that I have done for you,” said the dog. And he went on to inform her that he was in fact a man whom a sorceress had bewitched to take a dog’s form.
Then the dog took his revenge on the unfeeling girl by going straight to the prince and telling him the secret of her upbringing. Furious that the girl had been lying to him, the prince had her sent down to the kitchen as a maid. Now in old, raggedy clothes, she had to cook and clean and scrub the floors.
At this time, the dog did indeed become sick. Now the girl took care of him tenderly. She brought food to him and sat beside him to cheer him. And when the dog did die, the girl took her clothes from her clothes chest and had the dear dog put inside. She refused to have his body thrown out.
Now the prince was missing his wife, and finally he went down to the kitchen and told her he would now forgive her. The girl was so happy. But she said she could not leave the kitchen without saying good-bye to the body of her dead dog. When she opened the chest, to their surprise, they found not a dog’s body, but a dog of solid gold with large gems for eyes.
The girl and the prince lived their lives in happiness and contentment after that. And the girl was always kind to animals, especially to dogs.
THE BLACK PEARL AND THE WHITE PEARL
Kuwait lies adjacent to Iraq, so the city of Baghdad is an important nearby city. The nearby country of Bahrain is known for its pearl fishermen. The wealthier people of the Arabian Peninsula owned slaves brought from Tanzania and elsewhere in Africa. Many of these slaves obtained their freedom and entered professions, such as pearl diving. This story was heard in Kuwait by H. R. P. Dickson and published in 1949 in his book The Arab of the Desert. Pearl fishing was an important occupation in both Kuwait and Bahrain at that time.
Long, long ago, in the days when Baghdad was the center of the pearl trade, there lived a beautiful princess, the daughter of the Kahlifah. This princess possessed a wondrous large black pearl, a gift from her father. It was her most highly prized possession. Every day, she would take up this large pearl and stare into it. She would stroke its lustrous surface. And one day it came into her head that she would like to have a second pearl to match it. Two perfect black pearls, just alike.
The princess sent for the city’s most-experienced pearl merchant and asked if he could acquire such a pearl for her.
“In all the world, there would not be another pearl as fine as yours,” he declared. “It is impossible.”
But the princess kept asking him if he could not find someone who could bring her such a pearl. She would not give up on her idea.
One day, the pear seller came to the palace with news. “A pearl diver from Bahrain has just arrived in the city,” he told her. “This young man is the son of a famous pearl diver. His father is now dead. But the son might know of a pearl like you desire.”
“Bring him to me at once!” ordered the princess. And the young man was brought into the palace. He was a handsome young man, tall, broad-shouldered, and with such a pleasing face. The man’s name was ’Anad bin Faraj.
“I have here a pearl incomparable. But I wish to obtain a match for it. Can you bring me a pearl identical to this one?”
‘Anad came close to examine the pearl the princess held. “I know this pearl,” he said. And a sad look came over his face. “My father brought up this pearl from a cavern deep in the sea. That cave is inhabited by a giant octopus. It means death for any who attempt to take oysters from that cave. My father was too brave. Your father, the great Khalifah, had asked for a large black pearl for his daughter. And my father vowed to find such a pearl.
“My father dove deep that day and located a single, huge oyster. He grasped it tightly in his hand and started to rise, but the giant octopus was waiting. It wrapped him in its clutches and squeezed the life from him. When his body was pulled back into the boat, his hand was still clutched tight . . . around an enormous oyster. And when that oyster was pried open . . . the pearl you now hold in your hands lay inside.”
The princess was fascinated by ’Anad and his story. She asked him to come to her the next day and tell him more. This time, he was ushered into the princess’s quarters. She offered him a seat on her soft couch, had refreshments brought for him, and sitting down beside him, she plied him with questions. “Would it truly be impossible for a diver to bring another pearl from that site?” she queried.
“It would indeed be death to any diver who attempted this,” replied ’Anad.
Still the princess kept inviting ’Anad to the palace. She kept pleading with him to find some way to bring her the large black pearl that would match the one she already owned. On his third visit to the palace, the princess sat close to him and suddenly let loose her veil, revealing her beautiful, large, soft eyes. “For these two eyes, my brave ’Anad, would you not dare to dive near the octopus just once?”
‘Anad was struck by her beauty and mesmerized by those dark eyes. He fell into a dream state in her presence. When she bent over him and pleaded, “For me will you bring it?” ’Anad could no longer resist.
“The pearl merchant has said that no two pearls in this world are alike and that your black pearl cannot be matched. But when I look into your eyes, I see two of the most perfect pearls imaginable. And they are perfectly matched. A pair. For the sake of those two matchless pearls, I will brave the monster. And with the help of Allah, I will bring you the black pearl you so desire.”
“‘Anad, if you succeed in this quest, your heart’s desire will be given you. Even if it is half of my father’s kingdom.”
‘Anad returned then to his homeland of Bahrain,
the land of superb pearl divers and rich pearl-oyster beds. He prepared everything for his daring attempt. On a clear, calm day, ‘Anad and five companions went out in their boat to the place where the dangerous cavern lay under the sea.
‘Anad took a long, sharp dagger. He tied a rope around his waist and left one end in the hands of his companions. Immediately, if they felt him tug on the rope, they were to pull him up.
He fastened his wooden nose clip, held onto a rope for lowering, and stood on a stone fastened to the rope. This would keep the rope on the seashore bottom. Slowly his men let him down into the sea. Down and down and down . . . he passed the branches of gigantic corals of every hue . . . he reached the oyster shoals on the sea bottom and began to search.
And there was the cave. Dark and foreboding. But he knew he had to enter, for the largest oysters were said to grow in its dark interior. Carefully he entered the cave . . . so many oysters there . . . so large . . . but at last! The largest oyster of all! Just the kind to hold a very large pearl.
‘Anad cut the oyster from its rock and reached to tug on the rope for his haul up. But the giant octopus had been lurking and slowly oozing itself out of its cave. Suddenly it wrapped a tentacle around the arm of ’Anad and began to pull him close. He yanked on the rope! He stabbed the octopus in the eye! The octopus sucked him toward it! ’Anad stabbed again and again . . . until he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, ’Anad was lying in the bottom of the boat. His friends were working frantically to revive him. ’Anad gave thanks to Allah for his survival. And then he looked down. Clasped in his hand was the huge oyster. Quickly he pried it open and . . . there in the oyster’s quivering flesh lay a stunning black pearl. The exact mate to the pearl owned by the princess.
A month later, ’Anad arrived at the palace of the princess in Baghdad and asked for an audience with the princess. He was received at once and taken into the innermost reception chamber of her quarters. This time, the princess received him unveiled. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined.
“Welcome my brave ’Anad! Welcome a thousand times!” she cried with outstretched arms. “The pearl? Did you bring it?”
‘Anad knelt before her and pressed both of her hands to his lips in worship and servitude. “Yes,” he said simply. “Your servant has brought what you asked.”
The princess took the pearl from him and lifted ’Anad to his feet. “Come and sit by me and tell me all of your adventure,” she said. And they sat together for some time while ’Anad told her all that had happened, and while the princess praised him for his bravery.
Then the princess spoke. “‘Anad it is time to reward you. Ask whatever is your heart’s desire and it will be yours. For you too are a black pearl without price. And you have served me well, even at risk of your own life.”
After a long silence, the poor pearl diver spoke. “Oh, princess, I have come to worship and love you above all things in heaven or earth. You are truly the most matchless pearl in the world. My only wish would be to ask your hand in marriage. But a white pearl such as you can never wed a humble black pearl such as I.”
And so saying, this handsome son of African ancestors drew his dagger and plunged it into his heart.
Violet Dickson Talks about the Kuwaiti Pearl Fishers
Violet Dickson, the wife of H. R. P. Dickson, the man who wrote down this story, talks about the local pearl fishers when she first lived in Kuwait in the 1930s and 1940s:
I always used to enjoy the singing of a spring evening, when the pearling fleet was in. The crews would sit on their boats, which were pulled up in front of our house, and sing their pearling songs away into the night, when we would already have gone up to sleep on the roof or often when we were having dinner up there.
She also describes the long voyages the Kuwaiti boats used to take:
They would go on long voyages to India, East Africa, Zanzibar. I think the first year we came to Kuwait there were about 400 boats which went out. They would start in September, calling at Basra for dates, then going down to India, discharging the dates, taking another cargo across to East Africa, and then down to the Rufiji River. The winds brought them back up about the beginning of April. They laid up these big deep-sea boats, and they had just about two months with their wives before they went out again on the 15th of June. Then they went off to the pearl banks and didn’t come back till the 26th or 27th of September and then off to Basra to get dates and then off again.
Source: William Tracy, “A Talk with Violet Dickson,” Saudi Aramco World (November/December 1972): 13–19.
KILL THE MAN WHO KILLED THE DOG
This is a Badu folktale from Kuwait. H. R. P. Dickson retells this story in The Arab of the Desert (1949). He heard the story twice. Once from K. B. Mulla Sáleh, wazir to four consecutive rulers of Kuwait, and once from Othmán ibn Humaid al’Utaibi, a leader among the ’Utaiba tribe.
There once lived an old Mutairi Badawi who had three grown sons. The sons lived with their mother and father, together in one tent, and the sons helped tend their father’s sheep and camels. One summer, they were encamped by a group of wells, and their closest neighbor in that encampment was a poor shepherd who owned only 10 sheep and 2 camels.
A man of their tribe came to the poor shepherd’s tent one day, and the shepherd’s sheep dog rushed out, snarling and barking at him. The man took his rifle and callously shot the dog dead. There was much indignation among the people at this because a sheep dog is essential to someone living in a tent. The sheep dog, called a kalb, drives off wolves who might attack the sheep and also keeps away thieves who might come in the night.
The three sons went to their father and told him of this outrage. It is an ages-old desert law that a man’s most sacred duty is to protect his neighbor. And Prophet Mohammad himself stressed this.
“This man has killed our neighbor’s dog!” his sons told their father. “It was merely barking, and he shot it. What should we do?”
The old man thought about this carefully. Then he replied, “Kill the man who killed the dog.”
The sons thought their father was getting dotty to suggest such a thing. Instead, they consoled the poor shepherd who had lost his dog and spoke ill of the man who had done this thing.
A short time later, while the poor shepherd was watering his small flock of sheep at one of the wells, a gang of wild young Badu who were bringing their camels to drink pushed the shepherd aside, beat him, and broke his haudh (leather watering trough). This too was an unpardonable offense among the desert people.
The poor shepherd returned to his tents complaining. “Why are the strong allowed to bully the weak in this way? Is there no justice in the Mutairi tribe?”
The three sons went again to their father. They told him that their neighbor had been abused once again. “What should we do?” they asked.
The father replied swiftly this time. “Kill the man who killed the dog.”
“Our father is surely becoming old and foolish,” said the sons. “We aren’t concerned with a dog now, but with bullies who beat this man up.” They told everyone of the misbehavior of those young toughs.
But the young gang just bragged. “Of course the weak should give way to the strong. That is the law of the desert!”
Sometime after that, a junior shaikh of the tribe needed a lamb for a party he was giving. He sent his men out to buy one. But when they noticed a lamb at the tent of the poor shepherd, they just took it without payment. “This is the man who dared to complain because Arabs watered their camels before him,” they told themselves. And thus they justified taking his lamb.
Now the tribe was in an uproar. It was clear that this poor shepherd was being singled out for abuse. But the shaikh for whom the lamb was stolen was powerful, with many retainers. No one wanted to start a blood feud with him over such a small matter. “Better to leave the settlement to God, who arranges everything,” they said.
The three sons went once more to their father. The father was a
ngry now. He said sharply to them, “If you had followed my advice, this would not have happened. If you want to stop this bullying and this preying upon the weak, you need to do what I told you in the first place. Kill the man who killed the dog.”
So the three sons found the man who had killed the dog and killed him.
The tribe accepted this act of retribution as a just one. The relatives of the dead man said that no blood money was due them for the act. And they compensated the poor shepherd so he could purchase another sheep dog. The tough gang brought the shepherd a new haudh to water his sheep. And the shaikh sent three lambs to replace the one taken without payment.
Now peace and quiet was found throughout this Badu camp. Respect and fear now filled the minds of those who might be inclined to persecute the weak. This was the kind of justice that the desert dweller appreciates.
A contemporary shepherd with his sheep in Kuwait. The head scarf protects the man from sun, wind, and blowing sand.
NESÓP AND THE SNAKE
This folktale was told to H. R. P. Dickson while camped at Araifjan, April 1, 1953, by Amsha, wife of Salim al Muzaiyin.
A man named Nesóp was once traveling in the desert when he noticed a snake quivering with cold under a bush. Even though the snake was poisonous, Nesóp took pity on the poor creature. He picked it up and put it inside his zibún (his undergarment) to warm it. The snake lay comfortably on Nesóp’s warm stomach, and after a while, its life came back to it. And in time the weather warmed.
Nesóp opened his clothing and told the snake to come out now. “The sun has warmed everything up, dear snake. It is safe for you to return to the ground and continue on your way.”
But the snake said, “No, I like it lying in here on your warm belly. I plan to stay right here. No way will I be coming out.”
Nesóp begged the snake to leave, but the snake just snarled, “If you even touch me to remove me, I will bite you!” And as this was a poisonous snake, Nesóp had no option but to let it stay where it was, close to his skin.
Folktales from the Arabian Peninsula Page 7