GROUP IV
ENVIRONMENT

38.
The Little She-Goat T

TELLER: Testify that Allah is One!
AUDIENCE: There is no god but God.

Once there was a she-goat who had three kids. She used to say to them, "You stay here. I'm going to bring you some grass." Every day she went grazing until she was full, then she came home with grass for them and said:

"O my kids! O my kids!
Open the door for me!
The grass is on my horns
And the milk is in my teats."

They would then open the door for her.

One day the hyena saw her as she was leaving and discovered where her kids were.^[1] "By Allah," he said to himself, "I'm going to eat them." Now, the she-goat, before going out, would caution her kids, "If anyone should come and say, 'Let me in,' be careful not to open the door." Because the mother's tail had been chopped off, she said to the kids, "If someone should come and say to you, 'Open for me, I'm your mother,' check first if the tail is chopped off or not. If not, then it can't be me. Don't open the door!"

The hyena went to the cave where the kids were and called out:

"O my kids! O my kids!
Open the door for me!
The grass is on my horns
And the milk is in my teats."

"Turn around," they bleated, "and let us see your tail."

Turning around, he displayed his tail, and lo! it was not chopped off.

"Go away!" they said. "You're not our mother."

What was he to do? He wanted to trick them so he could eat them. To the ant he then went and said, "Chop off my tail so I can eat the kids of the little she-goat."

[1] For the hyena, see Tale 4, n. 7.

"No," answered the ant, "I won't chop off your tail unless you go to the threshing floor and bring me a measure of wheat."^[2]

So to the threshing floor he went and said, "O threshing floor, give me a measure of wheat so I can give it to the ant, and the ant will then chop off my tail so I can eat the kids of the little she-goat."

"I won't give it to you," replied the threshing floor, "unless you bring a team of oxen to tread the wheat on me."^[3]

The hyena then went to the oxen and said, "Yoked team, come tread the wheat on the threshing floor, and the threshing floor will give me a measure of wheat, and the measure of wheat I'll give to the ant, and the ant will then chop off my tail so I can eat the kids of the little she-goat."

"We won't go treading," replied the oxen, "unless you tell the spring to give us water to drink."

Going to the pool by the spring, the hyena said, "O pool, let the team of oxen come and drink so that they will tread the wheat on the threshing floor, and the threshing floor will give me a measure of wheat, and the measure of wheat I'll give to the ant, and the ant will then chop off my tail so I can eat the kids of the little she-goat."

"Let the team come and drink," said the pool.

So the team of oxen went and drank at the spring, then they trod the wheat on the threshing floor, and the threshing floor gave a measure of wheat to the ant, and the ant chopped off the hyena's tail.

Back he went to the kids of the little she-goat and called out:

[2] Like the sanasil (see Tale 12, n. 11), the threshing floors (bayadir ; sing., bedar ) are a characteristic feature of the Palestinian countryside. The threshing floor, says Conder in his accurate description, is "a broad flat space, an open ground, generally high; sometimes the floor is on a flat rocky hill-top, and occasionally it is an open valley, down which there is a current of air; but it is always situated where most wind can be found.... The size of the floor varies, from a few yards to an area of perhaps fifty yards square, and rich villages have sometimes two such floors" (Tent Work II:259). See also Grant, People : 136. There is a rich folklore associated with the harvest season in Palestine, some of which is recorded in Crowfoot and Baldensperger, Cedar : 15-23.

[3] Oxen, yoked in teams of two or four, are the animals most commonly used for threshing grain, although other animals, such as horses, donkeys, mules, and occasionally camels, may be hitched together for this purpose as well. The grain is trampled, sometimes under the animals' feet, but more frequently by a heavy wooden sledge (morij) hitched to one of the beasts, on which a boy sits and drives the animals. "A number of recesses," says Conder (Tent Work II:259), "are sunk in under the side of the sledge, and in these small rough pieces of hard basalt ... are let, which, acting like teeth, tear the corn." See also Grant, People : 137; Newton, Fifty_,Years : 42.

"O my kids! O my kids!
Open the door for me!
The grass is on my horns
And the milk is in my teats."

"Show us your tail," they bleated again.

He showed it to them, and, seeing that it was chopped off, they opened the door for him. In he came and gobbled them all up.

When the little she-goat came home, she discovered the hyena had eaten all her kids. To the blacksmith she then went and said, "Make me iron horns, and make them so sharp I can stab the hyena and get my kids back from his stomach."

The blacksmith made her a pair of iron horns as sharp as knives. The little she-goat put them on, rushed to the house of the hyena, and stomped on the roof.

"Who's pounding on my roof?" roared the hyena. "You've shattered my jars of oil."^[4]

"I'm the little she-goat of the twisted horns," announced the goat. "Come on out and let's fight!"

The hyena came out. Piercing him this way and that with her horns, the little she-goat ripped open his stomach and pulled her kids free.

This is my tale, I've told it, and in your hands I leave it.

39.
The Old Woman and Her Cat^[1]

Once there was an old woman who had a cat. One day she brought some milk home, and the cat came and lapped it up. Feeling angry, she cut off his tail.

[4] For these jars, see Tale 37, n. 7.

[1] For folklore about cats in the Holy Land, see Hanauer, Folklore : 265-270. "The cat," he notes (p. 265), "is liked by the Moslems, it is said, for the following reason. When the Prophet was a camel-driver, he was asleep one day in the shade of some bushes in the desert. A serpent came out of a hole and would have killed him had not a cat that happened to be prowling about pounced upon and destroyed it. When the Prophet awoke lie saw what happened, and, calling the cat to him, fondled and blessed it. From thenceforth he was very fond of cats."

"Meow! Meow!" he cried. "Give me back my tail."

"Give me back my milk," demanded the old woman.

"And how am I going to bring back the milk for you?" he asked.

"Go bring it from that ewe over there," she answered.

Going to the ewe, the cat said, "Ewe, give me some milk, and the milk is for the old woman, and the old woman will then sew my tail back on."

"Bring me a branch from that tree over there," said the ewe, "and I'll give you the milk."

So to the tree he went and said, "O tree, give me a branch, and the branch is for the ewe, and the ewe will give me some milk, and the milk is for the old woman, and the old woman will then sew my tail back on."

"Go tell that plowman over there to come plow under me," replied the tree.

To the plowman then he went and said, "O plowman, come plow under the tree, and the tree will give me a branch, and the branch is for the ewe, and the ewe will give me some milk, and the milk is for the old woman, and the old woman will then sew my tail back on."

"Bring me a pair of shoes from the cobbler," said the plowman.^[2]

He went to the cobbler and said, "O cobbler, give me some shoes, and the shoes are for the plowman, and the plowman will plow under the tree, and the tree will give me a branch, and the branch is for the ewe, and the ewe will give me some milk, and the milk is for the old woman, and the old woman will then sew my tail back on."

"Bring me two loaves of bread from that bakerwoman over there," answered the cobbler.^[3]

The cat then went to the bakerwoman.

"Bakerwoman," he said, "give me two loaves of bread for the cobbler, and the cobbler will give me some shoes, and the shoes are for the plowman, and the plowman will plow under the tree, and the tree will give me a branch, and the branch is for the ewe, and the ewe will give me some milk, and the milk is for the old woman, and the old woman will then sew my tail back on."

[2] The type of shoe referred to here (madas ) is no longer common among Palestinian landholders. In the old days these simple shoes were made entirely from the type of rubber used for tires. For a photograph, see Schmidt and Kahle, Volkserzahlungen II:pl. 36.

[3] The business of constructing the day outdoor oven known as the tabun (see Tale 26, n. 1), of keeping it hot with the proper fuels (see n. 4, below), and of baking the bread falls to the woman.

"Bring me a bucketful of manure from that pile over there," said the bakerwoman.^[4]

So, bringing a bucket full of manure, the cat gave it to the bakerwoman, and she gave him two loaves of bread. Taking the bread, he gave it to the cobbler, and the cobbler gave him the shoes, which he gave to the plowman, who plowed under the tree. The tree then gave him a branch, which he gave to the ewe, who gave him the milk. Taking the milk with him, he went running back to the old woman.

"Meow! Meow!" he cried. "Why don't you sew my tail back on?"

The old woman took the milk and sewed the cat's tail back on, and they became friends again.

The bird of this tale has flown; are you ready for the next one?

40.
Dunglet

Once there was a woman who had no children. Her husband was a plowman, and every day they had a hard time finding someone to take food out to him.^[1] They had a few sheep, and one day, as the wife was sweeping out their pen, she cried out, "O seeker, your wish be granted! May I become pregnant and have a boy, even if it is a piece of dung!"^[2]

It was as if Allah Himself had spoken with her tongue.^[3] When she gave birth, she delivered a pile of dung. All those present at the birth gathered

[4] The dry manure of nearly all the domestic animals in Palestine, particularly that of goats, sheep, cattle, and camels, makes an excellent fuel for the tabun when mixed with pressed olive pulp (jifit ) and the husks of grains. Hence the "pile" the bakerwoman refers to may contain other types of fuel in addition to manure. Perhaps because manure is superior (and relatively scarce) as a fuel, both the word for this pile of fuels (mizbale )and that for the act of fueling the tabun (tizbil ) are derived from the word for manure, zibil . For more details on tabun fueling, see Kanaana, "Al-Tabun" (15:80-84).

[1] Plowmen occur frequently in the tales, reflecting the peasant milieu that characterized Palestinian society. See Tale 26, n. 6.

[2] Because the woman cannot have children, she asks for strange offspring. This wish, which occurs elsewhere in the collection (see Tale 1, n. 3; Tale 8, n. 1), seems to represent a type of bargain with Allah, since He has not seen fit to "feed" her with children. For the first part of the invocation, ya talbe ya galbe, see Tale 13, n. 1.

[3] See Tale 8, n. 2, on this metaphor.

up the dung and threw it outside, but lo! a piece of it rolled under the wardrobe.^[4] The woman became very, very sad.

One day, while kneading the dough, the wife called out, "O Lord, if only you had given me a son, he would have taken the food out to his father!"^[5] And behold! the piece of dung jumped out from under the wardrobe and said, "Mother, I'll take the food to my father."

The woman set to preparing the food, bringing together some yogurt and seven loaves of bread, and she gave it to Dunglet, who carried it to his father.^[6]

"Welcome!" said the father when he saw him in the distance. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dunglet, who's bringing his father the yogurt and the seven loaves!" And behold! Dunglet answered, "Death to Dunglet and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves and has come to follow them up with his father and the yoked oxen!"^[7] He then devoured his father and the oxen.

Going back home, he found his mother kneading dough.

"Welcome!" she said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dunglet, who's coming to help his mother with the kneading!"

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and the oxen, and has now come to follow them up with his mother and her dough!" He then devoured his mother.

The next day he went to visit his father's sister, and found her patching her roof.^[8]

"Welcome!" she said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dung-let, who's coming to help his aunt with the patching."

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and

[4] See Tale 24, n. 9, on having many women present at a birth.

[5] Children are an economic asset; they start helping with the domestic and agricultural work from an early age. See Tale 30, n. 7; cf. Tale 10, n. 7.

[6] Yogurt is a major item in the peasant diet. With bread it makes a whole meal, and village families rely on this combination, together with olive oil and fresh vegetables, for sustenance, especially during the summer mouths. Cf. Tale 36, n. 6.

[7] Geography dictates the type of draft animal used for plowing. Although a team of oxen is the most common, in the terraced hill country (see Tale 12, n. 11) a donkey (or a pair), a mule, or a horse may be used, and in the desert camels are sometimes used (singly).

[8] The roofs of village houses were usually made of a mixture of mud and straw, laid over a wooden platform. Just before the rains (in October), the women patch their roofs with a fresh layer of this clay.

the oxen, his mother and her dough, and has now come to follow them up with his aunt and her day!" He then devoured his aunt.

The following day he went to visit his mother's sister, and found her doing the laundry.

"Welcome!" she said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dunglet, who's coming to help his aunt with the washing."

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and the oxen, his mother and her dough, his aunt and her day, and has now come to follow them up with his second aunt and her laundry!" He then devoured his second aunt.

The next day he went to visit his grandmother, and found her spinning.

"Welcome!" she said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dung-let, who's coming to help his grandmother with the spinning!"

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and the oxen, his mother and her dough, his aunt and her day, his second aunt and her laundry, and has now come to follow them up with his grandmother and her spinning!" He then devoured his grandmother.

On his way home he ran into a wedding procession.

"Welcome!" people said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dunglet, who's coming to help us celebrate the wedding!"

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and the oxen, his mother and her dough, his aunt and her day, his second aunt and her laundry, his grandmother and her spinning, and has now come to follow them up with the bride and groom!" He then devoured the bride and groom.

As he was walking down the street, he met two blind men who were trying to cross it.

"Welcome!" they said. "Welcome, Dunglet, and the path that led Dunglet, who's coming to help us with the crossing!"

"Death to Dunglet," he answered, "and the path that brought Dunglet, who ate the yogurt and the seven loaves, finished off his father and the oxen, his mother and her dough, his aunt and her clay, his second aunt and her laundry, his grandmother and her spinning, the bride and the groom, and has now come to follow them up with the blind men!"

One of them pulled a little knife out of his pocket and gashed Dung-

let's belly. All the people he had devoured came tumbling out, and everything went back as it had been.

41.
The Louse

Once a louse married a flea.^[1] One day guests came to visit them.

"O wife," said the flea. "Won't you get up and make us some dinner?"^[2]

Getting up, the louse kneaded unleavened loaves and went outside to bake them in the oven.^[3] But when she reached in, she could not bring them out. She ran to her husband the flea and said, "I wasn't able to reach them." So out he went and came toward the oven to reach for the loaves, and behold! he landed in the heart of the oven.

The louse waited for him, but he did not come back. Back to the oven she went, and lo and behold! he was burned to a crisp—qahmašane .^[4] He was as charred as charcoal.

Going then to the dump, she smeared herself with soot.^[5]

"What's the matter, O louse?" asked the dump. "Why are you smeared with soot?"

"I'm smeared with soot—saxmane ," answered the louse, "for my husband the lost one—taršne —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašn e ."^[6]

[1] In the popular imagination the louse and the flea are thought to belong to the same species, the louse being the female and the flea the male. This belief probably received linguistic confirmation from the gender of each word in Arabic; qamle ("louse") is feminine in form, and bargut masculine.

[2] For "dinner" (gada ), see Tale 14, n. 10.

[3] The reference here is to the tabun , for which see Tale 6, n. 8; Tale 26, n. 1; Tale 39,

[4] Although our policy in translating these tales has been to produce a readable English text without intrusions from the original language, an exception had to be made in this case. Because the tale builds up to a crescendo, not only of action but also of sound, leaving out the rhyming motif would have been equivalent to taking away part of the action.

[5] For "dump" or fuel heap (mizbale ), see Tale 39, n. 4. Soot would be available at or near the dump because that is where the remains from the tabun —ashes as well as charred pieces of wood—are thrown. Women smear their hands and faces with soot in mourning, at the death of male relatives in particular. Granqvist (Muslim Death : 53) says, "A woman takes pride in expressing her violent sorrow. And she knows it will be spoken of in the village." For more on "demonstration of grief," see Tale 25, n. 4; cf. Tale 1, n. 11. See also Jaussen, Naplouse : 338.

[6] The Arabic text throughout has "cousin" (rather than "husband"), for which cf. Tale 6, n. 2.

"As for me," said the dump, "I'm collapsing."

Toward evening a flock of sheep came that way.

"What's the matter, O dump?" they asked. "Why have you collapsed?"

"I've collapsed—hailane ," answered the dump. "The louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —and the flea has fallen into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for us," said the sheep, "we're going lame."

In the morning they passed by an olive tree.

"Why, O sheep," asked the tree, "are you lame like this?"

"We're lame—'arjane ," they answered. "The dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašne ."

"As for me," said the tree, "I'm withering."

A bird came to perch on the tree.

"What's the matter, O olive tree?" asked the bird. "Why are you withered?"

"I'm withered—šalallane ," answered the tree. "The sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for me," said the bird, "I'm plucking my feathers."

The bird then went to drink at the spring.

"What's the matter, O bird?" asked the spring. "Why are you plucked?"

"My feathers are plucked—ma`tane ," answered the bird. "The olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for me," said the spring, "I'm drying up."

Bedouin Arabs^[7] came to get water at the spring and found it dry.

"What's the matter, O spring?" they asked. "Why are you dry?"

"I'm dry—našfane ," answered the spring. "The bird's feathers are plucked—ma`tane —the olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are

[7] The original expression has only the second term, `arab —the most common form of reference to the Bedouins among the Arabs themselves.

lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane — who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for us," declared the Bedouins, "we're breaking our jars."

They broke their jars and headed back to their camp. Some other Bedouins ran into them.

"Why, O Arabs," they asked, "are your jars broken?"

"Our jars are broken—kasrane ," they answered. "The spring is dry—našfane —the olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"And as for us," these nomads exclaimed, "we're getting out of here—rahlane !"

Afterword

This group differs fundamentally from all the other tales in the collection. Because they are "formula" tales, requiring a verbal precision that becomes part of the content, there is little room in them for tellers to show individuality in weaving the narrative. Also, being formulaic, they are circular in structure, with the end contained in the beginning. They therefore do not reflect social reality in the same way the other tales do; rather, they serve an analogical function, as models of that reality. The regularity and security of the social world is reflected in the predictable organization of each tale—the prescribed order that must be followed for the next step to be achieved. Thus, as a group, the tales show individuals as existing in harmonious interdependence with the environment, both animate and inanimate. In the first three tales disharmony is produced by upsetting one of the links in the chain of relationships, thereby triggering a process of readjustment in all the other links until equilibrium is restored. In "The Louse," in contrast, one of the links in the chain has been destroyed, and the damage reverberates throughout the system, causing harm to all its components and preventing the restoration of equilibrium. Thus an action that appears inconsequential at the microscopic level, when multiplied throughout the chain, can damage the entire community.

Despite the similarity in form, the tales are nevertheless marked by

differences in detail that set each apart from the others. "The Little She-Goat," one of the most popular children's tales in the country, lends itself to allegorical interpretation, with the she-goat standing for the underdog and the hyena (which in some versions is represented as a ghoul) representing oppressive authority. With courage and community cooperation, the she-goat is able to liberate her children from the belly of the monster. It is instructive to observe how the alliances in the tale are worked out. Even though the hyena can get help from the other animals as long as he gives something in return, the domestic goat is the only animal that receives help, from the blacksmith, with no conditions attached; thus human beings and domestic animals are in alliance against the forces of the wild. Like "Dunglet," the tale teaches us that, despite his awe-inspiring appearance, the monster is not so fearful after all.

The dialectic of domestic versus wild on which the tale of the she-goat turns helps us understand the next tale, "The Old Woman and Her. Cat." Although the cat is a domestic animal, it has not totally lost its wild impulses and so does not hesitate to lap up the old woman's milk as soon as an opportunity presents itself. This observation is confirmed by the fact that few households keep cats as pets. In the villages, where food has traditionally been scarce, little is left over for pets; cats therefore lead a semiwild existence, living on the scraps tossed to them and on what they can hunt in the fields or steal from people's homes. Thus the cat's theft of the old woman's milk would not be an unusual occurrence; it would, however, be unusual for the old woman to keep a cat when she could not feed it. The taming of the cat, then, seems to be the point of the tale. By acting selfishly in lapping up the milk, the cat, although acting according to its nature, is behaving in a manner contrary to the norms of the society. And the routine of sending him out to regain his tail is a way of teaching him the meaning of cooperation and interdependence. The theme of nature versus culture, in fact, is prominent in Palestinian folklore, and the cat is often used emblematically to typify the sort of creature that, no matter how refined it appears to be, still preserves its wild nature underneath.

In many respects, "Dunglet" is similar to "The Little She-Goat." In both tales the ghoulish figure is overcome by being slashed in the belly so that those he had devoured may return to their previous condition. The belly thus serves as a central image to convey concretely the idea of greed, which the ghoul usually personifies in the tales. Both tales, like all folktales, champion the weak underdog against the strong and powerful.

In "The Little She-Goat," the hyena was seen to represent oppressive authority. The tale of "Dunglet," too, deals with a social evil, namely, the oppression of children by adult members of the extended family. We note that the initial wish to have a child is utilitarian: the family needs someone to take the food out to the father. Further, wherever the child turns, all his relatives perceive him only in terms of his usefulness to them. He seems to exist only insofar as he can be of use. Certainly, in such an environment the child would harbor an intense resentment toward his family, and the figure of Dunglet may therefore be seen, from the child's point of view, as a justified magnification of that resentment.

Yet "Dunglet" is a more complex tale than would appear at first sight. It demonstrates clearly the organic relationship (discussed in the afterword to Group V) between the human world and the supernatural, which, taken together, form a unitary reality. In "Dunglet," as in "Sumac!" (Tale 8), the wish for strange offspring originates in the mind of the mother; the ghoulish figure, in other words, is a symbolic externalization of conditions already existing within the social system. The harmonious functioning of the individual within this system is presumed to be the normal state of affairs. The individual's thought process, although invisible, is nevertheless understood to be as "real" as are material manifestations of reality. Hence, Dunglet's mother can act upon the world merely by wishing. Socially isolated because she has no children, in her despair she challenges her destiny by asking for something absurd (cf. Tale 1, n. 3). Indirectly, the tale admonishes its listeners against having evil thoughts, for the possibility exists that this evil will materialize and harm others. It is this sort of "materialization" of thought that lies behind the belief in the evil eye (alluded to in the preceding afterword to Group III and discussed in Tale 19, n. 4).

The tale of "Dunglet" also demonstrates clearly the relationship between ghoulishness and appetite, and teaches an important lesson about the metaphorical significance of "devouring." Palestinian mothers threaten their children with the devouring ghoul from an early age, and even though no one knows what a ghoul looks like, each has his or her own image of it. That is why it is said that ghouls can take any shape. Now, Dunglet is the shape that his mother's hunger takes: he is an eternal belly, always devouring but never satisfied; he has the power to destroy anyone who can see him, especially members of his family. The only way to destroy him is to pierce his belly, the locus of his appetite, yet the only

ones who have the power to do so are the blind men, who cannot even see him. In short, those who are themselves hungry cannot liberate themselves from the illusion of his power; they have been "devoured," overcome by the power of appearance.

As for "The Louse," this tale provides a kind of model for the sympathy that people feel for each other in case of disaster. Here we find the reverse of the process of identity discussed in the afterword to Group III: although the individual derives his identity from the collectivity, that collectivity in turn shares the fate of the individual. Thus the collectivity is understood in its native context to be not necessarily an oppressive force, but a community of feeling wherein an individual's fate can act upon the society at large and hence affect its destiny.