GROUP I
INDIVIDUALS

CHILDREN AND PARENTS

1.
Tunjur, Tunjur^[1]

TELLER: Testify that God is One!
AUDIENCE: There is no god but God.^[2]

There was once a woman who could not get pregnant and have children. Once upon a day she had an urge; she wanted babies. "O Lord!" she cried out, "Why of all women am I like this? Would that I could get pregnant and have a baby, and may Allah grant me a girl even if she is only a cooking pot!"^[3] One day she became pregnant· A day came and a day went, and behold!^[4] she was ready to deliver. She went into labor and delivered, giving birth to a cooking pot. What was the poor woman to do? She washed it, cleaning it well, put the lid on it, and placed it on the shelf.

One day the pot started to talk. "Mother," she said, "take me down from this shelf!"

"Alas, daughter!" replied the mother, "Where am I going to put you?"

[1] The name of the tale is an onomatopoeic derivation for the sound of a rolling cooking pot (tunjara ). The feminine ending of this word helps to establish the equation of "pot" with "girl." In the translation the neuter "it" is used when the pot is perceived as an object.

[2] This opening formula, —wahdu l-lah !—la'ilaha ' illa l-lah ! is the most common way of beginning a folktale in the Palestinian tradition.

[3] "Why of all women am I like this?" is a common way for a woman to express self-pity. Considering the value placed on children in Palestinian society, it is understandable why the woman should feel as if her inability to bear children is a punishment from Allah. Cf. Tale 8, n. 1; Tale 40, n. 2.

"May Allah grant me a girl ..." The Arabic for "grant" is yit`am (literally, "feed"). Palestinian village folk believe that divine will, through the agency of the angel Gabriel, causes conception. Granqvist (Birth: 34 ) quotes the saying, "If He will feed me with sons, He does not mistake where my mouth is, and if He shuts me out He does not trouble Himself about me."

[4] "Behold!" is the closest English equivalent to willa , which is one of several devices used by our tellers for interrupting the flow of narrative to express sunrise or to alert the listeners that something out of the ordinary is about to occur. Some narrators use the term more frequently than others, and we have not translated it in every instance, sometimes relying instead on the context to carry the emotion. Cf. Tale 5, n. 8; also see n. 9, below.

"What do you care?" said the daughter. "Just bring me down, and I will make you rich for generations to come."

The mother brought her down. "Now put my lid on," said the pot, "and leave me outside the door." Putting the lid on, the mother took her outside the door.

The pot started to roll, singing as she went, "Tunjut, tunjur, clink, clink, O my mama!" She rolled until she came to a place where people usually gather. In a while people were passing by. A man came and found the pot all settled in its place. "Eh!" he exclaimed, "who has put this pot in the middle of the path? I'll be damned! What a beautiful pot! It's probably made of silver." He looked it over well. "Hey, people!" he called, "Whose pot is this? Who put it here?" No one claimed it. "By Allah," he said, "I'm going to take it home with me."

On his way home he went by the honey vendor. He had the pot filled with honey and brought it home to his wife. "Look, wife," he said, "how beautiful is this pot!" The whole family was greatly pleased with it.

In two or three days they had guests, and they wanted to offer them some honey.^[5] The woman of the house brought the pot down from the shelf. Push and pull on the lid, but the pot would not open! She called her husband over. Pull and push, but open it he could not. His guests pitched in. Lifting the pot and dropping it, the man tried to break it open with hammer and chisel. He tried everything, but it was no use. They sent for the blacksmith, and he tried and tried, to no avail. What was the man to do? "Damn your owners!" he cursed the pot,^[6] "Did you think you were going to make us wealthy?" And, taking it up, he threw it out the window.

When they turned their back and could no longer see it, she started to roll, saying as she went:

"Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the honey.
Clink, clink, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the honey."^[7]

[5] Honey was, and still is, a rare and expensive food and is thus worthy of such a precious pot, as are the meat and jewelry placed in the pot later. The custom of offering sweets to guests is still observed, although the practice of offering jam or honey alone is no longer current (see Grant, People : 86-87).

[6] Yil`an abu shabik —literally, "Damn the father of your owners!" This curse is not as weighty in the original as the translation makes it sound.

[7] The Arabic for "honey" here is nahha , baby talk for anything sweet. In the refrains that follow, similarly, the words for "meat" (ma`ma` ) and "treasure" (dahha ) are also baby talk. Interestingly, the word for "feces" in the final refrain, ka`ka` , is very dose to its English equivalent. Cf. Tale 4, n. 8.

"Bring me up the stairs!" she said to her mother when she reached home.

"Yee!" exclaimed the mother,^[8] "I thought you had disappeared, that someone had taken you."

"Pick me up!" said the daughter.

Picking her up, my little darlings, the mother took the lid off and found the pot full of honey. Oh! How pleased she was!

"Empty me!" said the pot.

The mother emptied the honey into a jar, and put the pot back on the shelf.

"Mother," said the daughter the next day, "take me down!"

The mother brought her down from the shelf.

"Mother, put me outside the door!"

The mother placed her outside the door, and she started rolling—tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink—until she reached a place where people were gathered, and then she stopped. A man passing by found her.

"Eh!" he thought, "What kind of a pot is this?" He looked it over. How beautiful he found it! "To whom does this belong?" he asked. "Hey, people! Who are the owners of this pot?" He waited, but no one said, "It's mine." Then he said, "By Allah, I'm going to take it."

He took it, and on his way home stopped by the butcher and had it filled with meat. Bringing it home to his wife, he said, "Look, wife, how beatiful is this pot I've found! By Allah, I found it so pleasing I bought meat and filled it and brought it home."

"Yee!" they all cheered, "How lucky we are! What a beautiful pot!" They put it away.

Toward evening they wanted to cook the meat. Push and pull on the pot, it would not open! What was the woman to do? She called her husband over and her children. Lift, drop, strike—no use. They took it to the blacksmith, but with no result. The husband became angry. "God damn your owners!" he cursed it. "What in the world are you?" And he threw it as far as his arm would reach.

As soon as he turned his back, she started rolling, and singing:

[8] The exclamation "Yee!" is used by women in a variety of contexts to express surprise, admiration, or pleasure.

"Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the meat.
Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the meat."

She kept repeating that till she reached home.

"Lift me up!" she said to her mother. The mother lifted her up, took the meat, washed the pot, and put it away on the shelf.

"Bring me out of the house!" said the daughter the next day. The mother brought her out, and she said, "Tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink" as she was rolling until she reached a spot dose by the king's house, where she came to a stop. In the morning, it is said, the son of the king was on his way out, and behold! there was. the pot settled in its place.^[9]

"Eh! What's this? Whose pot is it?" No one answered. "By Allah," he said, "I'm going to take it." He took it inside and called his wife over. "Wife," he said, "take this pot! I brought it home for you. It's the most beautiful pot!"

The wife took the pot. "Yee! How beautiful it is! By Allah, I'm going to put my jewelry in it." Taking the pot with her, she gathered all her jewelry, even that which she was wearing, and put it in the pot. She also brought all their gold and money and stuffed them in the pot till it was full to the brim, then she covered it and put it away in the wardrobe.

Two or three days went by, and it was time for the wedding of her brother.^[10] She put on her velvet dress and brought the pot out so that she could wear her jewelry. Push and pull, but the pot would not open. She called to her husband, and he could not open it either. All the people who were there tried to open it, lifting and dropping. They took it to the blacksmith, and he tried but could not open it. The husband felt defeated. "God damn your owners!" he cursed it, "What use are you to us?" Taking it up, he threw it out the window. Of course he was not all that anxious to let it go, so he went to catch it from the side of the house. No sooner did he turn around than she started to run:

"Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the treasure.

[9] The teller here uses two devices ("it is said" and "behold!") to distance herself from the action. Possibly she felt that the coincidence of the king's son going out at that particular moment was too unlikely. See n. 4, above.

[10] For a sister, the wedding of a brother is one of the happiest occasions.

Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the treasure."

"Lift me up!" she said to her mother when she reached home. Lifting her up, the mother removed the lid.

"Yee! May your reputation be blackened!" she cried out.^[11] "Wherever did you get this? What in the world is it?" The mother was now rich. She became very, very happy.

"It's enough now," she said to her daughter, taking away the treasure. "You shouldn't go out any more. People will recognize you."

"No, no!" begged the daughter, "Let me go out just one last time."

The next day, my darlings, she went out, saying "Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama." The man who found her the first time saw her again.

"Eh! What in the world is this thing?" he exclaimed. "It must have some magic in it, since it's always tricking people. God damn its owners! By Allah the Great, I'm going to sit and shit in it." He went ahead, my darlings, and shat right in it. Closing the lid on him,^[12] she rolled along:

"Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama
In my mouth I brought the caca.
Tunjur, tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the caca."

"Lift me up!" she said to her mother when she reached home. The mother lifted her up.

"You naughty thing, you!" said the mother. "I told you not to go out again, that people would recognize you. Don't you think it's enough now?"

The mother then washed the pot with soap, put perfume on it, and placed it on the shelf.

This is my story, I've told it, and in your hands I leave it.^[13]

[11] Ya msahhara —literally, "O you who has smeared herself with soot!" A woman blackens her face as a sign of mourning when someone dear dies. Hence, metaphorically, when a woman does something she is not supposed to do, her honor dies and her reputation becomes black. See Tale 13, n. 8; Tale 41, n. 5. This expression, however, need not always carry connotations of ominous wrongdoing; it is frequently used, as in the present context, as a form of mild reproach.

[12] In the version of this talc supplied by Im Nabil (see Introduction, "The Tellers"), after the man defecates into the pot, she emasculates him.

[13] One of several closing formulas used by Palestinian tellers. Our translation here departs somewhat from the original—"This is my tale, I've told it, and to you I've thrown it" (hay ihkayti haketha, u-`aleku rametha ). The notion of "throwing" is used by analogy with the passing of the handkerchief in folk dancing (see Tale 14, n. 8). If the teller names someone to whom she "throws" the tale, then it would be that person's turn to tell the next one.

2.
The Woman Who Married Her Son

Once 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 than all!) Her face was like the moon.^[1] 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 neighbors' 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 makeup 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

[1] The full moon is implied. It is the most common image used to represent female beauty. When attempting to draw the attention of a beautiful girl on the street, a young man may call out, "`Es ya qamar?" (roughly, "What's happening, O moon?"). Two important components of the image, brightness (fairness of skin) and roundness (of face), convey the popular conception of beauty in Palestinian and Arab culture. In popular expression it might be said that the roundness of a beautiful girl's face resembles that of the moon (`aleha dorit hal-wijeh mitl il-qamar ), or that her face shines like the moon (wijeh-ha bizwi mitl il-qamar ). See Footnote Index, s.v. "Beauty."

to crave things. "My good man," she said to her son, "bring me a bunch of sour grapes from our neighbor's vine!"^[2] The son sent one of the women servants to ask for the grapes. When the servant knocked on the neighbor'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 sultans 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 sultans 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

[2] Pregnant women are assumed to crave sour grapes, much as in Western society they are assumed to crave pickles. See Tale 32, n. 6; Tale 43, nn. 4, 5.

the Prophet," the call went out, "bring a bundle of wood and a burning coal!"

The son of the sultan then lit the fire.^[3]

Hail, hail! Finished is our tale.^[4]

3.
Precious One and Worn-out One

Once there was a man who was married to two women, one of whom he called "Precious One" and the other "Worn-out One." Precious One had two sons, and Worn-out One had only one.^[1]

They had an animal pen from which one sheep was stolen every night. "Sons," said the father, "every night one of you must stay up to watch the sheep and find out who's been stealing them."

"I'm the son of Precious One," said the eldest.^[2] "I'll keep watch tonight." In the evening he went to keep watch by the sheep pen. He stayed awake till ten o'clock, then he fell asleep. A ghoul came and stole a ewe, and the boy did not know about it. When he woke up in the morning, he counted the sheep and found one ewe missing.

"I see that one of the sheep is missing," said the father.

"I want to keep watch by the sheep," the second son of Precious One said. His watch was like that of his brother, the ghoul stealing another ewe. The next morning he said to his father, "I too didn't see anything come into the sheep pen."

"Now we'll make the son of Worn-out One keep watch," said the father.

[3] The teller's narrative style tends toward greater brevity as the tale proceeds. Hence there is no need for her to say that the fire was intended for the mother. She may also have omitted that detail out of delicacy.

[4] This is a common dosing formula, used mostly by urban storytellers and heard at the end not only of Palestinian but also of Syrian and Egyptian folktales. Our teller is an eighty-two-year-old woman from Rafidya, which is part of Nablus, one of the largest Palestinian cities. The translation attempts to duplicate the rhyming quality of the original: tuta, tuta; xilsit il-hadduta . The expression translated as "hail"—tuta —is composed of two nonsense syllables, repeated twice and used as a device to rhyme with hadduta , "tale."

[1] The number of sons each wife has given birth to explains why each has earned her respective title.

[2] Aside from being the eldest, the son of Precious One derives his fight to be first from the preferred status of his mother.

"I want three kilograms of roasted watermelon seeds," the son of Worn-out One said to them. They brought him the seeds, and he stayed awake until the ghoul came.^[3] The son of Worn-out One saw the ghoul as he entered the sheep pen, and kept himself well-hidden in a comer until the ghoul took a ewe and left. The boy followed, staying behind him until the ghoul reached the mouth of a well with a huge rock blocking it.^[4] When he wanted to go in, the ghoul would move the rock aside and drop into the well. The youth heaped stones into a cairn, and put a stake in the middle of it to identify the well. Then, returning to the sheep pen, he fell asleep.

The father came to check on him in the morning. "What did you see, son?" he asked.

"I've discovered who's been stealing our sheep," answered the boy. "Call my brothers together, and let's go to his place. I'll show you where it is." The brothers were called, and they all set out with their father until they reached the mouth of the ghoul's well.

"Let's each give a hand," said the son of Worn-out One, "and with a little effort we can move this rock."

"What!" exclaimed the father, "Are you crazy?"

"Just help me turn this rock over, you and your sons," said the boy, "and see what happens!"^[5]

When they moved the rock, they found it covering a dark and deep well whose bottom could not be seen. He who looked down into it became afraid.

"Which one of you is going to go down into this well?" the father asked the sons of Precious One. Neither of them was willing.

"I'll go down!" volunteered the son of Worn-out One. [When he got down to the bottom of the well] he discovered three gifts, each of them like the full moon. But the youngest was the most beautiful.

[3] Watermelon seeds, along with other types of seeds and nuts, are eaten at social gatherings, and cracking them is a means of passing the time. See Tale 8, n. 4, and cf. the opening of Tale 8.

[4] Wells figure prominently in this corpus (cf. Tales 7, 20, 30, 36, 42). Abandoned wells are an important feature of the Palestinian countryside (see Grant, People : 21), which explains why human beings can, as they do in all but one of the tales enumerated above, be placed inside wells, or even live in them, without coming into contact with water. Wells are also thought to be the abode of supernatural beings. Cf. Tale 20, n. 2; see Tale 36, n. 3.

[5] The son of Worn-out One is the underdog on two counts: he is the youngest and the son of the less favored woman. The teller, in setting him apart from the others, emphasizes his isolation.

"Are you human or jinn?" the girls asked.

"Human."

"And what made you come down here?" they asked, and he told them his story. Then he asked, "Are you human or jinn?"

"We're human, by Allah," they replied, "and we were kidnapped from our homes by the ghoul."

"When does this ghoul come back?" he asked, and they said, "In a little while."

"I want to hide," he said, and the eldest answered, "You've got no place but the recess in the wall."^[6]

Going to hide into the recess, the youth found a sword above his head.

"I want to kill the ghoul with this sword," said the boy.

"Don't strike until you see that his eyes are red," she cautioned. "That's the only way you can be sure he's asleep. If you see him acting any other way, be careful not to strike. He'll be awake, and alert to the slightest movement. Every night he sleeps in one of our laps, and tonight it's the turn of the youngest. Take care not to strike the girl!"^[7]

"I smell a human!" announced the ghoul when he came home.

"It's you who brought the smell in your wake!" the girls answered. "How could a human being possibly get in here?"

The ghoul went to sleep in the lap of the youngest one. Looking at him carefully, the boy saw that his eyes were red and realized he was asleep. Immediately, he drew the sword and struck him a blow in the neck.

"Strike again!" urged the ghoul.

[6] Qos il-hawayij means literally "the arch for the bedding." Bedding, when not in use, was stacked inside these arches, a curtain hiding it from public view. It is interesting to note that the teller imagines the ghoul's house at the bottom of the well to resemble a typical old-style Palestinian house (see Schmidt and Kahle, Volkserzâhlungen II: pls. 33, 34). See Tale 14, n. 4; Tale 15, n. 5; Tale 16, n. 3; Tale 26, n. 8; Grant, People : 75-76.

[7] Ghouls play an important role in this corpus, occurring in this and sixteen other tales (6, 8, 10, 12, 16, 18, 19, 20, 22, 28, 29, 31, 33, 34, 35, 40). In Palestinian and Arabic folklore they are not simply evil spirits who rob graves and feed on the flesh of the dead (the typical English dictionary definition); the image of the ghoul, as we shall see, is much more complex. See Tale 3, n. 4; and Footnote Index, s.v. "Ghouls and Jinn."
This tale presents two particular characteristics of ghouls: lack of intelligence (similar to the "Stupid Ogre" in Western folklore), manifested in this case as credulity, and the turning red of their eyes during sleep. For a thorough discussion of Palestinian folk belief and practice concerning supernatural beings, see Canaan, "Dâmonenglaube."

"My mother didn't teach me how," replied the lad.^[8]

He then called up to his father, "I've killed the ghoul! Let a rope down so we can all get out!" When the rope was lowered, the young man said to the girls, "You go up first." He first let the eldest up, then the middle one. Before he let her up, the youngest, who had two identical bracelets, took off one of them and gave it to him.

The moment he laid eyes on her, the father was bewitched by her beauty. He lowered the rope to bring his son up, but when the boy was near the mouth of the well the father cut the rope.

[Landing at the bottom of the well, the son of Worn-out One] searched about and found a cave. He wandered around inside until he came to the end of it, where he found a door. Opening it, he stepped outside, and behold! he was back on the surface of the earth. He walked till he reached the city, where he heard that his father was preparing to marry the youngest of the three girls, but that she was refusing to marry him until he could match her bracelet. Now, the father had been going from one goldsmith to another, but none of them could match the bracelet. Chancing to meet his father at one of the jewelers in town, the boy said, "I'll make another bracelet just like the one you have. Bring me three kilograms of roasted watermelon seeds to crack so I can stay up a couple of nights and make it. Come back and take it in two days."

"Fine," said the father.

In two days the father came back. "Here it is," said the boy, "I've finished it," and he gave his father the bracelet the girl had given him in the well. Taking the bracelet, the father went to see the girl.

"You must show me the one who made it for you," the girl said.

The father brought the boy, and as soon as she saw him, the girl recognized him.

"Bring me a sword from our house!" the young man commanded.

She brought him a sword, and he killed his father and married the girl.

The bird has flown, and a good evening to all.^[9]

[8] A ghoul must be killed with one blow, without hesitation or ambivalence, because the second blow will revive him. Killing with one blow is also the mark of a hero.

[9] The dosing formula tar it-ter u-titmassu bil-xer , used frequently by village tellers, is based on the rhyming pair ter and xer . See Tale 13, n. 11.

4.
Šweš, Šweš!^[1]

Once upon a time there was a man. His mother was always calling down curses upon his head. He strung a hammock for her and put her in it, saying to his wives,^[2] "Rock my mother in this hammock, and take very good care of her."

His wives organized themselves so that one of them was always rocking her while another was doing the work. His mother spent all her time in the hammock, and his wives were always rocking her.

One day a traveling salesman came by.^[3] "What's going on here?" he asked. "Why is this woman always being rocked in the hammock?"

"Brother," answered the man, "she's always calling down curses upon my head."

"Is she your mother?"

"Yes, my mother."

"What do you want, old woman?" asked the salesman. "Do you want a husband?"

"Heh! Heh! Heh!" she chuckled.^[4]

"Your mother wants a husband," said the salesman to the son. "I asked her, and she started to chuckle."

"Fine," said the son to the salesman.

"Mother," he said to her, "I'm going to find you a husband."

"May Allah bless you!" she said.^[5] For the first time in his life she called down blessings upon his head.

[1] The name of the tale is the diminutive form of the common expression Šway, šway , "Not so fast!"

[2] As noted in the Introduction, the frequency of reference to polygyny (cf. also Tales 5, 6, 7, 20, 30, 35) is out of all proportion to its actual occurrence in the culture.
The situation prevailing at the beginning of the tale, where the two wives serve the mother, reflects fairly accurately the expectations (if not the actual practice) prevalent in the culture, which holds motherhood in very high esteem. They say that "paradise is under the feet of the mothers" (il-janne taht aqdam il-'ummahat ).

[3] Traveling salesmen occur fairly frequently in the tales (cf. Tales 10, 12, 26, 34, 42). They brought with them not only household goods, such as cloth and glassware, but also much lore, especially in folk medicine. Considered jacks-of-all-trades, they often gave advice on taboo subjects as well. They say of a woman who badly wants marriage, for instance, that she is "after that which the salesman talked about" (bidha mn ilii 'ahka `anno l-bayya` ).

[4] Sexuality is an especially taboo subject in Palestinian culture. In showing discontent with everything, the mother uses the culturally approved code to communicate her message.

[5] Alia yirda `alek —literally, "May Allah be pleased with you."

He gave her nice clothes to wear, put earrings in her ears (she was blind), and said, "Yalla !^[6] Come with me! I'm going to find you a husband."

He carried her over to the lair of the hyena.^[7] Setting her down, he said, "Sit here a while! Your husband will be arriving soon."

The hyena came and approached her, but she drew away from him, saying, "Šweš , šweš ! Not so fast! Not so fast! Water has been spilled on the new clothes, and the cat has eaten the candy. Not so fast, lest you break the seed!"^[8]

"Hmmm!" thought the hyena. "This woman's blind and can't see me."

(She's in even worse shape than I am!)^[9]

Every time the hyena approached her, the woman said, "Water has been spilled on the new clothes, and the cat has eaten the candy. Not so fast! Not so fast! Lest you break the seed."

Her son sat opposite, watching, until the hyena devoured his mother. Then he left.^[10]

[6] "Let's go!" from ya Allah (O Allah!), is a very common expression in Mashreq Arab culture. The name of Allah is invoked at the beginning of a journey to make it a propitious one.

[7] The hyena—an appropriate creature in this context—is ascribed characteristics bordering on the supernatural. it is thought to be a very ugly creature that does not attack its victims directly. Rather, it rubs against them and urinates and, by its eerie sound and the smell of its urine, entrances them and lures them to its lair, where it devours them. At the end of the tale the hyena approaches the old woman several times, but she is already entranced. The son sees the mother's sexuality as a form of possession resembling the magic power of the ugly hyena. Linguistic evidence corroborates this view. They say bitzabba` ("he's behaving like a hyena") of an ugly old man who attempts to behave seductively, and indeed, the actions of the hyena—at least in the old woman's eyes—are seductive. See Grant, People : 18; Hanauer, Folklore : 270-273; Sirhan, Mawsu`at V:47; and Granqvist, Problems : 116-118.

[8] In this formulaic expression, the words for "water" (mbu ), "new clothes" (dahha ), and candy (mahha ) are all derived from baby talk (see Tale 1, n. 7). The last two are a rhyming pair; the part of the expression about breaking the seed is obscure.

[9] This interjection by the teller, who was nearly blind and over seventy years of age when we collected the tale, identifies her with the woman in the tale, which possibly explains why the woman's blindness—a significant narrative detail—is introduced so casually.

[10] The woman in this tale would be considered to have achieved what all women are supposed to dream about: loving and obedient sons and grandchildren, and dutiful daughters-in-law. Not only is she loved and cared for, but she can now be complete mistress of her household. On the complexity of the mother/son relationship, see Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture."

5.
The Golden Pail

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

There was in remote times a king who had two wives, a new one who was precious to him and whom he loved, and an old one whom he did not care for. The old one had one son, while the new one had two.^[1]

"Wait till your father has assembled the Council of State," said the new wife to her eldest son one day. "Then go up to him, kiss his hand, and ask him to give you the kingdom."^[2]

Waiting till morning, when all the ministers and dignitaries of state were meeting with his father, the son went up, wished the assembly a good morning, came up to his father, and kissed his hand.^[3]

"What do you want, son?" asked the king.

"Father," said the boy, "I want the kingdom in your lifetime, not after your death."

"Go work as hard as I did and suffer the same hardships," answered the father. "Then come back, and I'll give you the kingdom."

The boy went back to his mother, who asked, "What did he say to you?"

"He said such and such," the boy answered.

She then sent her other son, who went up the next day, wished all a good morning, came up to his father, kissed his hand, and waited.

"What do you want, son?" asked the father.

"I want the kingdom in your lifetime, not after your death," answered the boy.

"Go work as hard as I did," the father said. "Suffer the same hardships. Then come back and I'll give you the kingdom."

The boy turned around and went straight back. He and his brother had not achieved anything.

Meanwhile, the old wife found out what was going on. Calling her son over, she said to him, "Clever Hasan,^[4] go up to your father, kiss his

[1] On the number of children and a wife's status, see Tale 3, nn. 1, 2.

[2] "Council of State"—diwan —is anglicized as "divan." "Go up to him" ('ilia` `indo ): the language here, as in many other tales, reflects the place of kings and notables, which is always pictured to be "up."

[3] It is common practice among Palestinians to kiss the hand of an elder, especially the father, as a sign of obedience and respect. The gesture consists of taking the older person's tight hand in one or both hands, kissing the back of it, then bringing it up to one's forehead.

[4] "The Golden Pail" belongs to a cycle of adventure tales in which the hero's name is always either Clever Hasan or Clever Mhammad. Other such tales in this collection include 17 (see n. 5) and 18 (n. 9).

hand, and ask him for the kingdom." The boy went up and, finding the divan already full of people, wished everyone a good day and came up to his father. He kissed his father's hand and waited.

"What do you want, boy?" snapped the father.

"Father," answered the boy, "I want the kingdom in your lifetime, not after your death."

Taking hold of him, the father gave him a beating and dismissed him. When he came back to his mother, she said, "What's the matter with you?" He answered, "Such and such happened."

"Go back up and ask him again," she said.

The boy went up again, and again his father beat him and threw him out. When he came back down, his mother asked, "What happened to you?" He answered, "Such and such he did to me. He beat me."

"Go back another time," she said, and he went up for the third time.

This time the king shot up out of his seat, wanting to kill the boy. He wanted to take hold of him and throw him down the stairs. The ministers and lords of state also jumped up. "What! O Ruler of the Age!" they said. "Just say to him the same words you said to his brothers, and he'll go away. Do you think that this one is going to come and take the kingdom?" They calmed the king down, until finally he said to his son, "Go work as hard as I did and suffer as I suffered. Then come back and I'll give you the kingdom."

Turning around, the boy went straight to his mother'.

"What happened, son?" she asked.

"Such and such he said to me," answered the son. "And if it weren't for the ministers, he would have thrown me down the stairs."

The following day his mother prepared provisions for a journey and took her son to the outskirts of town, you might say down around the house of Faraj,^[5] beyond all the other houses, where there was a slab of stone. Standing on it, she called out, "O Ballan!" and, behold! a horse appeared. It was a jinn horse. She put the food provisions and a waterskin in the saddlebags and said to her son, "Mount!" "Ballan," she said to the horse, "take care of your rider. Farewell!" Then she went home.

[5] Faraj is a member of the storyteller's own community whose house fits the description in the tale. Tellers will often either identify directly with the hero or heroine or locate the action in their own village and the surrounding environment. See n. 14, below. Cf. Tale 18, n. 12; Tale 30, n. 11; See also Footnote Index, s.v. "Geography," "Narrative Devices."

Turning to the west, the horse started moving. They traveled for a day, two, three, four, ten, a month (Allah knows how long!),^[6] until they arrived at the seashore. They had been traveling along the shore awhile, when lo! there was a feather. And how it sparkled all by itself! Finding it beautiful, the lad wanted to dismount and pick it up. "By Allah," he said to the horse, "I want to get down and take it up."

What was the horse's response? "By Allah," he said, "you're going to be sorry if you take it, and sorry if you don't."

"If I'm going to be sorry either way," replied the boy, "by Allah, I'm going to get down and bring it with me." Dismounting, he picked up the feather and put it in his pocket. He then got back on the horse, and they traveled and traveled until they arrived in a city.

Where does a stranger go? To the khan.^[7] Straight to the caravansary they went, where the boy rented a room for himself and his horse, and stayed.

That night, as it happened, the king of that place let it be known that it was forbidden for people to light their homes. He wanted to find out who was obedient and who was not. Now, the youth knew of this order, and did not dare light his room. Toward the end of the night, you might say, he pulled the feather out of his pocket and stuck it into the wall. If the teller is not lying,^[8] that feather lit up the whole room.

Just about then the king, in disguise, was conducting a tour of inspection in the city with his minister, to see who was obeying his order and who was not. They went around the entire city, and found it all dark. When they passed by the inn, however, they found one of the rooms lit.

"Councillor," ordered the king, "manage this for me!"

[6] The teller's reluctance to be specific about time reflects not only a cultural but also a religious attitude, since the future is imponderable and in the hands of Allah.

[7] The khan (xan ) was a public inn where caravans used to stop for the night. Grant (People : 209) describes the one at al-Bire: "Their khan is typical of a country caravanserai. Thousands of people pass it: messengers going up and down the country, village priests or teachers going to Jerusalem to get their monthly pay, sellers and buyers, caravans of wheat, ... tourists, pilgrims, missionaries, ... camping outfits, mounted Turkish soldiers sent to some village to bring in an offender or to collect taxes."

[8] `Ala dimt ir-rawi —literally, "Upon the word, or responsibility, of the teller." Despite the magical elements in this and many other of the tales, the tendency in narration is toward realism. Thus narrators frequently disavow the literal truth of what they are relating by distancing themselves from the action through such devices. In this case the teller employs two in succession, here and in the preceding sentence ("you might say"). See n. 13, below. Cf. Tale 1, n. 4; also see Footnote Index, s.v. "Narrative Devices."

"The owner, O Ruler of the Age," replied the vizier, "manages his own property."

"Put a mark on this place!" ordered the king, and the vizier marked it.

In the morning the king sent after the young man, and he came.

"Didn't you know the king had ordered a blackout last night?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, I did."

"Well then, why did you put a light on in your room?"

"My lord, I didn't light my room."

"But I saw it with my own eyes. So did the vizier."

"Your Majesty, I didn't light any lamps."

· "What! Are you calling me a liar? Executioner!"

"Your Majesty, please, wait a moment. I tell you I didn't burn a light in my room, but on the path I found a feather that glows by itself. I hung it up, and it lit the room."

"What kind of feather is this, that can light up a whole room?"

"A bird feather, your Majesty."

"Bring it over, and let me see if you're telling the truth!"

The lad went and brought the feather. When the king saw it, he fell completely in love with it.

"How strange, O Ruler of the Age!" exclaimed the vizier. "Could it be that you're so completely taken with a feather? What if you were to see the bird from which this feather came? What would you do?"

"And who's going to bring this bird?" asked the king.

"He who brought the feather," answered the vizier, "can also bring the bird."

"Young man!"

"Yes."

"You must bring me the bird from which this feather came. You have two days and a third, and if you don't bring it, I'll have your head."

"Please, O Ruler of the Age!" the lad begged. "Where can I bring it from? And how am I ever going to find it? This is a feather I found by the seashore while riding my horse. How should I know the bird to whom it belongs?"

Now the boy went home crying. To whom? To the horse, who, since he was from the jinn, knew what was going on.

"This one is easy," he said.

"What do you mean, it's easy?"

"I tell you," returned the horse, "this is not a difficult task. Go back to

the king, and say, 'O King! I want a cage made of silver and gold from the vizier's treasury, and it must be decorated such that no two figures are the same. Otherwise, the task will never be done.'" The horse had understood that the whole idea had come from the vizier.

Returning to the king, the young man said, "O Ruler of the Age! I must have a cage made of silver and gold from the vizier's own treasury; otherwise, what you requested will never be accomplished." By Allah, having said that, the youth turned around and left.

The king sent for the vizier, and he came. The king said to him, "You will have a cage made of silver and gold from your own treasury, and no two decorations on it can be the same. Otherwise, I'll have your head!"

What was the vizier to do? He went and gathered what he had about the house in money and gold, and had the goldsmith make the cage ordered by the king. The lad then came and picked it up.

"Mount!" said Ballan, and he mounted. The horse flew with him, and kept flying until he landed at the place where he knew the bird would come.

"Do you see that tree?" the horse asked.

"Yes."

"Go climb it, and hang the cage in it. Open its door, and wait. When the bird comes to roost for the night, she'll see the cage and will be delighted by it. 'By Allah,' she'll say to herself, 'this cage is suitable to none but me for spending the night.' Meanwhile, wait till she's right in the center of the cage, then come from behind, close the door on her, and bring her down."

The lad took the cage and hung it in the tree, leaving the door open. Toward sunset, the bird came to roost in the tree. "By Allah," she said when she saw the cage, "this cage is suitable to none but me for spending the night." She went in it to see if there was enough room for her, and our friend (he was not asleep!) quickly shut the door on her and brought the cage down. Returning to the horse, he mounted, and they flew until the horse had brought him back.

Taking the cage and the bird with him in the morning, the youth went to see the king. "Here, O Ruler of the Age," he said, "is the bird that's the owner of the feather you admired!"

Well, brothers, the moment the king laid eyes on the bird, he went out of his mind over her. The vizier was there, and wanted to take

revenge on the boy. He wished to send him on a task that would be his end.^[9]

"Truly, O Ruler of the Age," he broke in, "you've gone crazy over this bird. What would you do if you were to see its owner?"

"And who will bring her?" asked the king.

"He who brought the feather and the bird will bring the owner," responded the vizier.

The king summoned the youth, and he came.

"Young man!" said the king.

"Yes, O Ruler of the Age!"

"You must bring me the owner of this bird. You have two days and a third, and if you don't bring her, I'll have your head."

"Please have mercy, O Ruler of the Age!" begged the boy. "This was a bird flying in the wilderness. She isn't owned by anyone, and even if she does have an owner, how am I to find her?"

The boy went home to the horse, crying. "What's the matter?" asked the horse, and he answered, "Such and such is the problem."

"Didn't I tell you you'd be sorry if you took that feather and sorry if you didn't?" the horse reminded him. "In any case this is an easy one. Go back to the king and say to him, 'O Ruler of the Age, I must have a boat seven decks high, made of silver and gold from the treasury of the vizier. Otherwise, your request will never be fulfilled.'"

The lad returned to the king and asked for the boat. Sending after the vizier, the king said, "You will have a boat seven decks high made of silver and gold from your own treasury, with no two figures in its decoration the same. Quite a sight this boat will be, eh, my vizier?"

Where was the vizier to go, and what was he to do? He gathered a bit of this and sold a bit of that, putting money in one account and taking it out of another, until the boat was made. When it was finished, the king sent for the boy.

The horse spoke with the boy, teaching him what to do. "Now board this boat," he said, "and sail until you reach the port, where there will be a city. Anchor the boat there and call out, 'Hey people! Free showing!'

[9] The vizier, whose office resembled that of lord chancellor, is a stock villain, frequently portrayed as a devious and conniving creature, jealous of any favors his master might bestow on outsiders and willing to go to any length to protect his privileged position. Cf. Tale 44, n. 15; and the behavior of the vizier in Tale 45.

You'll wait the whole day, but the king's daughter won't show up. The second day she'll hear about your boat and will come. But when she does come, how will you recognize her? When she approaches from the distance, you'll see two servantgirls guarding her, one on each side. As she gets closer, she will have the people of the city cleared out of her path. That's how you'll recognize that she's the daughter of the king. At that moment, stop people from coming on the boat. Say to them, 'O uncles,^[10] I'm not charging you admission and yet you're damaging the boat. You can't come on to this boat except one at a time!' Wait until she comes aboard and becomes absorbed in looking at the decorations on this deck or that, then weigh anchor, start moving, and bring her with you." The horse taught him what to do.

The youth boarded his ship and sailed until he reached the port. He dropped anchor on the edge of town and started calling out, "Free showing!" And what do you think happened, my dears? Here was this boat, decorated in silver and gold with no two designs alike. People came running to see it.

The first day no one fitting the horse's description showed up. The second day, however, one of the servantgirls happened to be on her way to the oven to bake bread. She had just placed her loaves in the oven and sat down when she saw people rushing over to take a look at the boat. Leaving her loaves, she went along and became absorbed. When she returned, she found the bread burned. She took it to her mistress, who commenced beating her.

"Please, mistress, have patience! Wait and let me tell you what happened."

"Yes. Tell me."

"There is a boat in the harbor," related the slavegirl, "and each of its decorations is different from the others. People have been looking at it free for the past two days."

The king's daughter put on the robe of anger and sat around the house, scowling.^[11] When her father came in, he asked, "What's the matter, dear daughter? Who has angered you? Did someone say something to you?"

[10] See Tale 14, n. 7; Tale 35, n. 5.

[11] The "robe of anger" here is metaphorical. Dark colors, especially black, are worn as a sign of mourning, and colorful clothes are worn on happy occasions, such as public feasts and holidays, but no specific garment in Palestinian folk costume would indicate a state of mind like anger.

"Of course I'm angry," she retorted. "There's a gold-and-silver boat in town, people have been seeing it free, and you don't even tell me to go have a look!"

"Well, daughter," returned the father, "is it that serious? Why don't you go ahead and have a look."

She went, my dears, and dressed for going out, taking a lot of care with her appearance. You should have seen the king's daughter then! With her two servants by her side, she came, and when people saw her coming they scattered out of her path.

The youth recognized her. "O uncles!" he announced. "You can't be on this boat except one at a time. You're tearing it apart, and I'm not even charging you admission."

When the king's daughter arrived, she wanted to go on board with her servantgirls, but he said to them, "One at a time." Of course, no one can go before the king's daughter, so into the boat she went and started looking around. The lad waited until she was engrossed, then weighed anchor and started for home. By the time she was aware of herself again, they were halfway across the sea.

"Please! Young man!" she pleaded.

"Don't waste your breath!"

"O so and so! O son of the people!"^[12]

"It's no use," he answered.

Removing a ring from her finger, she dropped it into the water. Meanwhile, he sailed and sailed until he reached the city, where he moored his boat and took the girl straight to the king.

"O Ruler of the Age," he said, "this is the owner of the bird."

Eh! The king, when he saw her, went out of his mind over her. Taking her with him, he led her into a palace. It was her own palace, which he had given to her, but no sooner did she enter than she bolted the door behind her. He wanted to go in and visit with her, but she would not open for him.

"Not for you," she declared, "or even someone above you, will I open this door. I swear by my father's head, and by Him who gave my father

[12] Ya bn in-nas is a hortative expression frequently used when people are being asked to be reasonable. The implication here is that the person so addressed is the son (or, later in the tale, daughter) of good or worthy people with whom one can reach an understanding. Note the emphasis on lineage, as discussed in the Introduction ("The Tales and the Culture"). Cf. Tale 14, n. 2; Tale 44, n. 15.

the power over other people's heads, I won't open unless my ring were to come back from the bottom of the sea!"

"What!" exclaimed the king. "Who could bring your ring back from the bottom of the sea?"

"O Ruler of the, Age," the vizier jumped in, "he who brought the bird and brought her can also bring the ring."

Sending after the youth, the king said to him, "You must bring the ring back from the bottom of the sea."

"O Ruler of the Age," the boy asked, "how can I possibly recover a ring that has fallen into the sea?"

"You have two days and a third," the king insisted. "Otherwise, I'll cut off your head."^[13]

The boy went home to the horse, in tears.

"What's the matter?"

"I must bring back the ring she has thrown into the sea."

"Didn't I tell you you'd be sorry if you took that feather, and sorry if you didn't?" the horse asked. "In any case, this one is easy. Go speak to the king. Say to him, 'I must have a boat full of flour from the treasury of the vizier. Otherwise, what you want will never come to pass.'"

The lad returned to the king, who sent after the minister and said, "You will have a boat made, and will fill it with flour."

The minister had the boat made, and filled it with flour. They sent for the boy, and the horse gave him instructions. He said, "Sail this boat until you reach the place where she tossed her ring overboard. There, halt and drop anchor, and throw all the flour you're carrying into the water. All the fish in the area will come to eat until they're full. The head fish will then come up and ask, 'Who has done us this favor? We'd like to reward him.' Ask for the ring, and they will fetch it for you."

The lad boarded the boat, and headed for the place where the king's daughter had dropped her ring and stopped. He threw the flour overboard, and when the fish had eaten their fill, their chief appeared. "Who was it that did us this favor?" he asked. "We'd like to reward him."

"By Allah, it was I," answered the lad.

"What would you like?"

[13] Willa baqta` ras l-ib`id —literally, "Or I'll cut off the head of the distant one!" Here the teller switches from the second person to the third, as if to say to the audience, "May this not happen to you!" or "May it be distant from you!" Such distancing devices are used to ward off possible harm. See n. 8, above; Tale 34, n. 5.

"A ring fell from my hand."

Going back down and searching for it, the head fish found the ring in the mouth of another fish. He brought it up and gave it to the lad, who turned around and set sail for home. When he arrived he went to see the king.

"Open up!" said the king to the girl. "Here's your ring! Take it back!"

Reaching out her hand, she took the ring and bolted the door again.

"O so and so!" the king called out. "O daughter of the people!"

"By Allah," she answered, "I'm not opening this door unless I get my horse."

"And who will bring your horse?"

"O Ruler of the Age," the vizier said, "he who brought her and brought the ring from the depths of the sea can also bring the horse."

The king sent for the young man, and when he came, said to him, "You must bring her horse, wherever he is, or else I'll cut off your head."

"Please, O Ruler of the Age!" he begged. "How can I go back to her country? Her father will kill me. And where am I to find her horse?"

"I don't know," the king answered.

The boy went home to the horse. Tears had filled his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"They want me to bring her horse."

"Didn't I tell you you'd be sorry if you took it, and sorry if you didn't? Anyway, this is an easy one. Go back to the king and say, 'I want a gold-and-silver bridle from the treasury of the vizier. Otherwise, the task will never be done.'"

Returning to the king, the youth made his request. The king summoned the minister, and said, "You must provide him with a bridle made of silver and gold."

Selling nearly everything he owned, the minister had the bridle made. They sent after the boy, and he came and took the bridle with him back to the horse. After the lad put the bridle on him, the horse told him to mount, and he flew with the boy till he crossed the sea and came to the country of the girl's father, where he landed in hilly territory.^[14] The boy dismounted.

"Do you see that mountain?" asked the horse.

[14] Despite the magic flight, the horse lands in territory very much resembling the region of Upper Galilee around the village of `Arrabe, where the tale was collected. See n. 5, above; cf. Tale 17, n. 7; Tale 26, n. 11; Tale 36, n. 2; Tale 44, n. 11.

"Yes."

"Over there, by the side of that mountain, there's a cave, and in the depths of the cave is the horse you want. He's bigger and stronger than me, and I can't let him see me. If he sees me, he'll kill me. Take this bridle with you. When you approach him, he'll neigh so loud the earth will shake, but don't be afraid. Come up to him fearlessly, put the bridle on his head, the bit in his mouth, tighten his cinch, remove his hobble, mount him, and ride him straight back.^[15] You'll find me back at the inn. Don't worry about me!"

The boy went and did as the horse had instructed him. He mounted the girl's horse, and it flew with him until they reached the city, where he headed straight to the king.

"O Ruler of the Age," he announced, "here's her horse! I've brought it." Giving him the horse, the youth returned to his room.

The king led the horse with him, and said to the girl, "Open up! Here's your horse! It has come."

Seeing her horse, the girl brought out a sword, opened the door, mounted him, and set to slashing him until she had chopped him into three or four pieces. Then, going back into the palace, she locked the door.

"O so and so! O daughter of worthy people!" the king pleaded.

"By Allah, I won't open," came the reply, "until my horse has been made to stand up as he was before."

"Eh!" exclaimed the king, "who's going to revive your horse?"

"O Ruler of the Age," the vizier broke in, "Do you think it's such a big thing? He who brought the bird and the girl, and brought the ring from the depths of the sea, can also bring the horse back to life."

The king sent after the lad and said, "You must bring the horse back to life, just as he was before."

"Please have mercy, O Ruler of the Age!" the boy entreated. "The living creatures you've asked for, I've brought. But reviving the dead! Is it possible that anyone can bring dead creatures back to life except their Maker?"

"You have two days and a third to raise this horse from the dead," the king said. "Otherwise, I'll cut off your head!"

The boy went home to the horse, his eyes full of tears.

[15] In providing this detailed description of equestrian equipment, the teller, Šafi`, who is a farmer, demonstrates direct knowledge of the subject and adds a touch of realism by incorporating details from his daily life.

"What's the matter?" asked the horse, and the boy answered, "Such and such is the problem."

"All fight," the horse reassured him. "This is an easy one. Go back to the king and say, 'O Ruler of the Age! I want a pail made of silver and gold from the treasury of the vizier. Otherwise, this thing will never come to pass.'"

The king summoned the vizier. "You must have a pail of silver and gold made for him."

If his wife had any jewelry left, the minister did not spare it. He sold every last thing he had to make the gold-and-silver pail, which he delivered to the young man, who brought it to the horse.

"Go get me five piasters worth of rope from the shop," said the horse.^[16] The boy went and got the rope. "Tie the handle of the pail with the rope," said the horse, "and dangle it from my neck." The boy tied the pail and dangled it from the horse's neck. "Mount!" said the horse. He mounted, and the horse flew with him. "Soon we'll be landing on the sea of life," said the horse in flight. "I'll have to dip my head in the water to fill the pail. When I bring my head out again, I'll be drunk. You must be careful to stay awake so you can splash some of the water on my face and revive me. Otherwise I might fall into the sea, and it'll be the end of both of us."

"Don't worry," said the lad.

The horse flew until he reached the sea of life, then landed, fired the pail with water, and pulled his head out. But the boy's attention had wandered, and he forgot to splash him. The horse reeled from side to side, and he was about to fall when some of the water from the pail splashed on his face and he revived. "See what you've done!" the horse chided him. "You've almost cost us both our lives." And he flew back. Where? Straight to the inn.

"Go bring me a few empty bottles," said the horse when they landed at the khan. The lad went and brought them. The horse then filled them with water from the pail, saying, "Take these and put them away now. They'll be needed later. Then carry this pail over to the cut-up horse. Bring the severed joints together and splash them with the water, and

[16] The units of currency used in the tales vary. The names of Ottoman coins are sometimes used, as are units of Palestinian currency under the British Mandate and units of Jordanian currency. The piaster, a hundred of which equaled one Palestinian pound (lera ), was the basic unit of currency in the Mandate. it is also the basic unit of Jordanian currency, one hundred equaling a dinar.

they'll stick. Open his mouth and pour some of the water into it, and he'll rise up, neighing as he did before."

The youth went, stuck the horse's joints together, and poured some of the water down his mouth. The horse jumped up, neighing as he used to.

"Open your door!" said the king to the girl. "Your horse is like it was before!"

"I swear by my father's head," she answered, "and by Him who gave him power over people's necks, I won't open, and you won't see me, until you've burned at the stake the boy who brought my horse and my bird!"

"My dear girl," exclaimed the king, "what's his fault except to be doing us favors?"

"I don't know," came the response.

Now the minister saw his opportunity. "O Ruler of the Age!" he jumped in. "Are you afraid for him? Why should you care about him at all?"

The king sent the crier into town to announce that everyone must bring a load of wood and some burning coals.^[17] The boy was summoned and informed of his fate, and he went crying to the horse. The wood was piled, and the boy was brought and put on top. They were ready to light the fire.

The horse had meanwhile gotten hold of the boy and said to him, "Take off your clothes and rub yourself with the water from the pail until your body is all wet. Then go up to the top of the pile, stand in the middle of the fire, and tell them to throw more wood into it. Don't be afraid!"

The lad did as the horse had advised him, mounting to the top of the woodpile. They started the fire, and the flames engulfed him till he was no longer visible. Turning the logs over, the lad called out to the king, "Bring, O King, bring more wood and add to the fire! This is the reward for good deeds! Bring more wood!"

[17] Grant (People : 149) says of town criers: "Often of an evening one will hear the crier publishing something of general concern to the villagers.... The tribal elders decide upon some matter for general observance and the crier makes it known. For instance, when an especially dry season was on, the village crier was heard proclaiming that no woman should draw more than one jar of water from the springs at a time.... At another time it was forbidden the people to harvest the olives until a certain date. Lost articles are advertised by the criers, and those lounging about in the evening are kept in touch with business news, as the voice penetrates all quarters of the village."

The king then asked the boy to come down from the fire. He did, and behold! he was completely unharmed.

"Where are you from, my lad?" asked the king.

"I'm from such and such a city," answered the young man. "I'm the son of King So and So."

The king rushed up to the boy, hugged him, and started kissing him. "You're the son of my brother," he exclaimed, "and I'm doing this to you!" Taking hold of the vizier, he pushed him into the fire. Then, dear brothers, he gave the lad the girl for a bride. He also gave him the horse, the bird, the boat, the pail, and everything else, and they rode out together. They were on their way to the king who was the father of the boy.

This king was sitting at home, and what did he see but a troop of horsemen approaching from afar. Thinking he was being attacked, he alerted his army, and they got themselves ready and mounted their horses. The king sent a scout to discover what was going on. The scout rode out, and found it was the king's own brother, come to pay him a visit. When the king heard this news, how happy he was! He went out to meet his brother in person, and found his own son with him.

When they had gone inside, the king's brother related to him the story of his son and what had happened to him. At that moment, in the presence of his brother, the king stepped down and handed his kingdom over to his son, who accepted it from his father and was content.

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

Afterword

The five tales brought together here are concerned with the different aspects of the relationship between parents and children, touching on the theme of individual freedom, which will recur in many of the tales that follow. The first tale focuses on the relationship between mother and daughter, the second and fourth on that between mother and son, and the third and fifth on that between father and son.

The opening episode of the first tale, itself a recurring motif in the corpus, demonstrates the importance of having children (a major theme in the culture), and subsequent events in the tale demonstrate the economic

value children have for the family. It is significant that the woman in "Tunjur, Tunjur," as in nearly all the other tales in which a similar wish is made, should ask for a daughter rather than a son. But in addition to the emotional bonds that hold mother and daughter together, an economic motive is operating in the tale as well. The mother's initial wish is not only for a daughter but also for a source of income, and her willingness to let her daughter out of the house is conditioned by her poverty. The daughter, for her part, does not want to remain "on the shelf," which is considered the proper place for a woman—well scrubbed and beautiful, but out of sight. She wants to go out and see the world.

Yet this urge for freedom is fraught with danger to the family honor. A kind of inevitable logic is evident in all the tales: whenever a girl is allowed out of the house or left on her own, trouble follows. This point emerges clearly from the fifth tale in the group (and from following tales as well), where the father's indulgence of the princess's whims leads to her abduction by the hero. In "Tunjur, Tunjur," in contrast, the theme of individual freedom is intertwined with that of economic necessity. Tunjur's adventures, which by the standards of the community are morally ambiguous, are forgiven by her mother; the daughter would not have been able to get away so easily if there had been any males in the family. Perhaps because of these constraints on the freedom of women, the daughters in both tales must rely on a ruse to achieve their aim of getting out of the house.

The second and fourth tales present a different aspect of the child/parent conflict; the focus here is on sexual jealousy, a taboo subject in the family circle. In the second tale, "The Woman Who Married Her Son," the conflict arises from the son's need to switch roles—he must cease to be his mother's son and establish himself as his wife's husband and the head of his family. In the situation of the patrilocal extended family, when a son marries, both mother and daughter-in-law have difficulties. The mother's possessiveness in the tale, her need to keep her son under her control, drives her to throw the wife out of the house so that she can be both mother and wife to her own son. In the fourth tale, in contrast, the mother wishes to break free of her role, which confines her to being a passive recipient of her sons attention. In addition to being a mother, she also wants to marry again and become a wife.

The third and fifth tales are concerned with the relationship of fathers and sons. Both illustrate the sons struggle to achieve independence by

challenging the authority of the father. In the third tale, "Precious One and Worn-out One," the father is shown as being a deceitful tyrant who resents the sons courage and independence and attempts to compete with him sexually. By overcoming the father, the son succeeds in demonstrating his maturity and achieving independence. Similarly, in the fifth tale, "The Golden Pail," the son proves himself worthy of inheriting his father's kingdom by meeting his uncle's challenge. Here the co-wives also compete, wishing their respective children to inherit the throne. In particular, it is the rejected co-wife who urges her son to challenge the father and who provides him with the means to achieve success, thereby vindicating her position in the family. In a polygynous situation, the struggle over inheritance starts very early in the marriage; indeed, often the main worry of a first wife and her children is to prevent the father from marrying again because of concern over inheritance. Although the stake in the last tale is the entire kingdom, the struggle over a family's small piece of land could be just as intense.

SIBLINGS

6.
Half-a-Halfling

TELLER: Allah has spoken and His word is a blessing!
AUDIENCE: Blessings abound, Allah willing!^[1]

Once upon a time there was a man who was married to two women. One of them was his first cousin and the other was a stranger, and neither of them could get pregnant.^[2]

"I'm going to visit the sheikh,"^[3] he said to himself one day, "and maybe for the sake of Allah he'll give me some medicine to make these women conceive." He went to the sheikh and said, "I want you to give me a medicine that'll make my wives get pregnant."

"Go to such and such a mountain," the sheikh advised, "and there you'll find a ghoul. Say to him, 'I want two pomegranates to feed my wives so they can get pregnant,' and see what he says to you."^[4]

The man went forth, and came upon the ghoul, He approached him

[1] See Tale 16, n. 1, for a literal translation and a discussion of this opening formula. Inšalla (Allah willing!) is one of the most commonly heard expressions in the Arab world, representing, among both Christians and Muslims, an all-pervading belief in the will of God. For a story of what befell a man who refused to say inšalla , see Schmidt and Kahle, Voikserzählungen II: 42.

[2] Presumably the man married his cousin first, and when she could not get pregnant he married the stranger. Many proverbs and folk sayings illustrate the desirability of endogamy, such as "A first cousin with [nothing more than] a cloak, and as for the stranger—damn his father!" (ibn il-`am w-il-`aba, w-il-garib yil`an 'abah ). A first cousin is in fact entitled to his cousin even when she has been promised to someone else: "A first cousin can bring a bride down from the mare [even if she's on her way to marry someone else]" (ibn il-`am bitayyih `an il-faras ). For a discussion of endogamy, see Introduction.

[3] The sheikh was a practitioner of holistic folk medicine. Among Palestinian peasants, no clear distinction is drawn between exorcism, the use of charms, folk psychotherapy, and folk medicine, although only a religious person is trusted to provide care. See Tale 22, n. 7.

[4] For a discussion of the ghoul figure, see Tale 3, n. 7. Ghouls, as we have said, play a complex role in the tales; here, they are helpful figures. Although their unkempt appearance gives the impression of neglect and wildness, their favor can be won by giving them the comforts of civilization, such as shaving their beards and trimming their hair, particularly the eyebrows. See nn. 7, 11, 12, 13, below; and Footnote Index, s.v. "Ghouls and Jinn."
Pomegranates are a symbol of fertility; see Tale 35, n. 1.

immediately, shaved his beard, trimmed his eyebrows, and said, "Peace to you!"^[5]

"And to you, peace!" replied the ghoul. "Had not your salaam come before your request, I would've munched your bones so loud my brother who lives on the next mountain would've heard it.^[6] What do you want?"

The man told him what he wanted, and the ghoul said, "Go to the next mountain over there, and you'll find my elder brother. Ask him, and he'll tell you what to do."

The man went to the next mountain over and found the ghoul. He did with him as he had done with his brother. Then he said, "Peace to you!"

"And to you, peace? replied the ghoul. "Had not your salaam come before your request, I would've munched your bones so loud my sister who lives on the next mountain would've heard it. What can I do for you?" The man told him what he wanted, and the ghoul said, "Go to my sister on the next mountain over there, and she'll tell you what to do."

The man did as he was told, and found the ghouleh grinding wheat, her breasts thrown over her shoulders.^[7] He came forward and sucked on her fight breast, then on her left. After he did this, he put a handful of her flour in his mouth.

"You've sucked at my fight breast," declared the ghouleh, "and now you're dearer to me than my son Isma`in. You've sucked at my left breast, and now you're dearer than my son Nassar. And now that you've eaten my flour, you're dearer than my own children. What can I do for you?"

"I want two pomegranates to feed my wives so they can have children," he answered.

"Go to that orchard over there," she said. "You'll find a ghoul sleeping, using one ear for a mattress and the other for a blanket. Pick two pomegranates and run away as fast as you can."

Having done as he was told, the man took the two pomegranates and started on his way home.

As he was traveling, he became hungry. "I'm going to eat part of my

[5] "Peace to you!"—salamu `alekum —is one of the most important expressions in Arab culture. Not to be so greeted when encountering a stranger is considered a hostile gesture, whereas an enemy who utters it can neutralize an already existing hostility.

[6] Lola salamak sabaq kalamak, kan xallet . . . tisma` qart i`zamak . Variants of this formula occur in similar situations in Tales 10 and 22.

[7] For further details on ghoulish behavior, see nn. 4, above; 11, 12, 13, below; and Tale 22, n. 9. Human behavior and institutions are generalized in the tales to include even ghouls. Cf. Tale 8, n. 9. It is said that a boy who suckles from a woman will always call her yamma , or "mother"; Islamic law (šari`a ) considers him her son and forbids his marriage to milk-siblings.

cousin's pomegranate," he thought to himself. "She's my cousin and won't get angry if I offer her only half a pomegranate."

When he reached home, he gave his other wife the whole pomegranate and his cousin the hale They became pregnant at the same time. The stranger gave birth to twin boys, and he called one Hasan and the other Husen. His cousin gave birth to half a human being, and they called him Half-a-Halfling.

The boys grew up. One day they told their father they wanted to go hunting. Hasan and Husen said they each wanted a mare and a gun, and the father consented and granted them their wish. Half-a-Halfling said he wanted a lame and mangy she-goat and a wooden poker.^[8] He got what he had asked for, and the boys all set out together to hunt. Hasan and Husen fired their shotguns, but they did not hit anything. Half-a-Halfling, meanwhile, would lie in wait on the ground until the deer came near, then he would hit and break their legs.

"Give us the deer you've hunted," said Hasan and Husen, "so we can take them home and say we killed them."

"All fight," he replied, "but on one condition only. I'll heat my brand, and brand each of you on the backside."

They agreed, and he branded both of them.^[9] They took the deer and gave them to their mother, who cooked them and threw away the bones at the doorstep of Half-a-Halfling's mother. She started to cry. When Half-a-Halting saw her crying, he asked, "Why are you crying?"

"Look!" she answered. "Your brothers Hasan and Husen were able to hunt deer, but not you."

"What!" he cried. "Do you think they killed the deer? You'd better go and see my brand on their behinds." His mother went, and she could see the brand.

The following day they went hunting again. The sun set while they were still away from town. They came to another town and found no one there except a ghouleh chasing a rooster.^[10]

[8] The wooden poker, or muqhar , is an implement for clearing and stacking the ashes in the outdoor oven known as the tabun . For more on the tabun , see Tale 26, n. 1; for an extensive description, see Kanaana, "Al-Tabun." See also Sirhan, Mawsu`at IV:343.

[9] This act of branding would be considered the ultimate humiliation, for, in effect, the two brothers have been feminized.

[10] "Chasing a rooster" is another characteristic of a ghouleh's behavior', see Tale 8, n. 7. The boys would not necessarily have been able to recognize the figure they encounter as a ghouleh because of her presumed ability to take any shape; cf., e.g., the situation in Tales 19 and 33.

"Welcome to my nephews!" she said when she saw them.^[11] Tying their horses and the she-goat in front of the house, she invited them in, and made dinner and fed them.

"What do your horses eat?" she asked.

"They eat hulled barley and pure milk," they answered. She brought feed for the horses. Then she asked Half-a-Halfling, "What does your she-goat eat?"

"Bran left over from sifting," he answered, "and water left over from kneading."

She put food in front of the she-goat and laid out bedding for the brothers to sleep on. Hasan and Husen went to sleep on the floor, but Half-a-Halfling said, "I can't sleep on the floor." Seeing a reed basket hanging from the ceiling, he said, "I'll sleep in this basket. But first you must give me a waterskin and a handful of lava beans for munching." He pierced the waterskin and hung it above his head and let it drip on him, as he sat in the basket munching the fava beans.

In a while the ghouleh, thinking they were asleep, started jumping around and singing, "O my teeth get sharper and sharper, for Hasan and Husen his brother!" Now, Half-a-Halfling was awake, and he heard her.

"How am I going to sleep?" he said. "And how am I going to sleep, when my belly has no food in it to keep?"

"What do you want to eat?" asked the ghouleh, and he answered, "I want a stuffed rooster so I can eat it and go to sleep."

She prepared the rooster for him, and he ate it and climbed back into the basket. Again the ghouleh started prancing around, singing, "O my teeth get sharper and sharper, for Hasan and Husen his brother!"

Half-a-Halfling jumped up and said, "How am I going to sleep? And how am I going to sleep, when my belly has no food in it to keep?"

"What do you want to eat?" she asked, and he answered, "I want a lamb, stuffed and roasted to a turn."^[12]

By the time she finished preparing the lamb, the sun had risen.

"We want water so we can wash," the boys said. When she had gone

[11] The ghouleh always pretends to be the paternal aunt of the hero, perhaps because it is the closest relation she can have with him without being his mother.

[12] As in the European tradition, a ghoul (or ogre) is thought to prefer human flesh; he would therefore rather fatten and eat the boy than eat the lamb. See Tale 15, n. 5.

out to fetch the water, Half-a-Halfling said to his brothers, "You'd better get up! This woman is a ghouleh." They got up, mounted their animals, and ran away. When she came back and found them gone, she called out, "O milk, thicken! thicken! and tie up their joints so they can't move." The horses came immediately to a stop and would not budge. They got down and mounted behind their brother on the lame she-goat, and he prodded the animal with the poker, calling out, "O flint, spark and spark! O bran, fly and fly!" The she-goat flew with them and brought them home, while the ghouleh caught up with the horses and gobbled them up.

The father was very pleased with Half-a-Halfling, who was able to save his brothers. from the clutches of the ghouleh.

"And what would you say," the boy asked, "if I were to bring the ghouleh herself right here?"

"We'd confess you're cleverer than both your brothers if you could do that," replied the parents.

Half-a-Halfling went and bought a donkey, and loaded it with a huge box filled with halvah. "Here's the halvah! Here's the halvah? he cried out when he reached the ghouleh's house. She came out and asked how much it was. He answered, you might say, "A piaster for a quarter of a kilo."

She ate one quarter, then two and three, but she was still hungry.^[13]

"What do you say to getting into the box," he suggested, "and eating as much as you want. We'll figure out what you owe me later." She agreed and got into the box. He closed the lid on her, securing it with a rope, and started moving. She was too busy eating to notice. When he approached their town, he called out, "Light the fire and let the flames rise! I've brought the ghouleh herself. And let him who loves the Prophet bring a load of wood and a burning coal!"

"What're you saying?" asked the ghouleh.

"I was saying," he answered, "spread the silk and put the silk away! I've brought you the princess, daughter of the prince."

When the fire was big enough, they threw the box in it and rid themselves of the ghouleh and her evil.

The bird has flown, and a good evening to all!

[13] Insatiable appetite is a major characteristic of ghouls. Cf. Tale 8, where the ghouleh devours the whole town.

7.
The Orphans' Cow

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

There was once a man who was married to a certain woman. The wife died, leaving behind a son and a daughter. The man said, "This cow is for the boy and the girl."

One day the man married again. His wife became pregnant, gave birth, and had a boy. She became pregnant again, gave birth, and had a girl. She fed her children only the best food, and the others nothing but bran.

The orphans used to roam with their cow in the countryside every day. When they were well out of town, they would say to her, "Open, O our cow!" The cow would open the space between her horns, meat and rice would come out of it, and the children would eat their fill. When they were fed bran at home, they would boil with anger.

When the children played together in the evening, the woman noticed that her children were sallow, while the orphans were like red apples. She said to her son, "Tomorrow you'll go out to the countryside with them and find out what they eat!" He said, "All right."

The next day he went roving with them. Early in the morning the children fed their pieces of bread to the cow. And what? Were they going to suffer from hunger all day? "Listen!" they said to their brother. "Do you promise not to tell our mother and father?"

"No. I won't say anything," he answered.

"Good," they said. "Open, O our cow! We want to eat."

The cow opened between her horns, the three of them ate till they were full, and then the cow dosed her horns again.

"Hanh!" snapped the mother when they came home. "What did you eat out there?"

"What did we eat?" he answered. "We ate the dry bread you gave us." He refused to tell. Not believing him, the woman then said to her daughter, "You go out with them in the morning, and whatever you see them eat, you must tell me."

The following morning, the girl went roaming the countryside with the orphans. "Do you promise not to tell?" they asked her, and she replied, "No, I won't tell." They said, "Open, I our cow! We want to eat." The cow opened between her horns, and what rice and meat there

was! They ate until they had their fill; but the girl was putting one bite in her mouth and hiding the next in the front of her dress. When she came home, she said, "Mother, see! Here's what they eat! Their cow does such and such."^[1]

The woman brought some straw and boiled it until the water turned yellow, yellow. Then she bathed in this water, laid out her bed, and put her head down and went to sleep.^[2]

"What's the matter with your mother, children?" asked the father when he came home.^[3] The children said she was ill.

"Don't talk to me!" she said. "I'm not well."

"Woman, what's the problem? I'll take you to the doctor, just tell me what you need!"

"I was told no prescription would cure me, except that you slaughter for me the orphans' cow."

"O no, woman!" he said. "The children are having such a good time with her," and so on and so forth.

"Nothing else is possible," she answered. "I won't get well until you slaughter the orphans' cow for me."

So he caught the cow and slaughtered her, and they ate her, while the orphans wept and lamented.

Angry, they ran away, the sister with her brother. They walked and walked until a shepherd met them. The girl was the older, and the boy the younger.

"Sister, I'm thirsty," said the boy. "I want to drink."

"Uncle," she asked the shepherd, "do you happen to know where there's water for us to drink?"

"Listen, daughter," he replied. "You'll come upon two springs. Drink from the lower one, but the other one—don't drink from it! A gazelle has pissed in it, and whoever drinks from it now will turn into a gazelle."

[1] For a discussion of mother/daughter relationships, see Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture." it is commonly believed that women are incapable of keeping secrets.

[2] The feigned illness here reflects a culturally approved pattern that permits a woman to gain her ends through subterfuge, by manipulating her husband or her son. Cf. Tale 22 (see n. 5) and the behavior of the fourth wife in Tale 30.

[3] "... children?" (yaba )—literally, "O father!" in Palestinian society the father addresses his children as yaba ("O father?) and the mother addresses them as yamma ("O mother!"), and the children in turn address their parents using the same words. This custom is so powerful that Palestinian-American parents often use it in addressing their American-born children in English. The practice applies to all other kinship terms as well. Thus paternal uncles will address' their nephews and nieces as `ammi ("O uncle!"), paternal aunts use `amti ("O paternal aunt!"), and so on.

"Thank you," said the girl.

They reached the springs, and quenched their thirst from the lower one.

"By Allah," insisted the brother. "I must drink from the other spring too, just to see what will happen."

"O brother, brother, please!"

He would not listen to her, and drank from the upper spring.^[4] When he drank, he turned into a gazelle. The girl led him away, her tears flowing into her mouth. She arrived by the walls of a palace and sat down. A servantgirl looked out and saw her.

"Sir," said the servant to her master, "down by the palace wall there's one so beautiful she'll take your mind away."

"Go call her for me!" he said. She went and called over to her, "Girl, come up and see my master," and the girl replied, "I have a gazelle with me." The king said to his servants, "Take the gazelle and tether him down below, and have her come up here!"

"No," said the girl. "This gazelle—wherever I stay, he stays with me."

"Very well," said the king. "Let him come up with her."

She led the gazelle up the stairs with her, and stayed. She stayed a month, perhaps two, Allah knows!^[5]

"Young woman," the king asked one day, "would you rather have me for a brother or for a husband?"

"No, by Allah [not as a brother]," replied the girl. "Marriage is shelter."^[6]

He married her. A day went and a day came, she became pregnant,

[4] It is culturally appropriate for a girl to play a motherly role toward her brothers, even if they are a little older. The sister, however, although older, does not have the authority to prevent her brother from drinking at the wrong spring. For a discussion of brother/sister relationships, see Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture."

[5] On the general reluctance of Palestinian narrators to be specific about time, see Tale 5, n. 6.

[6] "Marriage is shelter"—il-jize sutra . "Shelter" is, to be meant both in the material sense and in the moral sense of protecting the girl's reputation. An unmarried girl or woman is always exposed to gossip and evil intent. The social pressure to marry is reinforced by many proverbs and popular sayings. A husband is said to "create a door that protects [the woman] from the dogs" (xalaq bab bihmi min li-klab ). Even more poignant is this saying: "Marriage is a girl's protection, and burial is the dead man's shelter" (sutrit il-bint jizitha, u-sutrit il-miyyit dafno ). The prevailing attitude about marriage may be summarized thus: "Even an old and useless husband is better than no husband at all."

and he set out on the hajj.^[7] But before leaving he said to the women of the house, "Take good care of so and so. And this lamb here—when she gives birth, have it slaughtered for her!"

"Yes," they said. But after he left, they whispered, "This one's so beautiful and well behaved, he'll sell us all for her sake when he comes back. What're we going to do with her?" They dropped her into a well, slaughtered her lamb, and ate it themselves, burying its skin under the floor of the house.

Now, the gazelle, whenever they fed him a mouthful of bread, would take it and drop it into the well.

The king returned from the hajj. "Where's my wife?" he asked.

"Allah have mercy on her soul!" they said. "She died. And, by Allah, since she was so dear to us, we've dug a grave for her fight under the floor here."

Looking the gazelle over, how thin the king found him! He said, "What use do we have for him now that she's gone? Let's feed him till he fattens up, then slaughter him."

But the gazelle still took the mouthful of bread and went away. The king thought, "By Allah, I've got to follow this gazelle and find out where he takes the food." He followed him, and behold! the gazelle carried the piece of bread in his jaws, went to the mouth of a well, dropped it in, and started calling out:

"O my little sister, O Bdur!^[8]
For me they've sharpened the knives
And raised the pots over the fire."

And she answered:

"O my little brother, O Qdur!^[9]
My hair's so long it covers me,

[7] It is perfectly appropriate for a husband to go on the hajj while his wife is pregnant; in his absence the members of his household will take care of the social duties on the occasion of the birth. See Granqvist, Birth : 56-57.

[8] The girl's name, Bdur, is the plural form of badir (full moon), which is used very infrequently as a boy's, not a girl's, name. It is more common to liken a girl to the moon than to call her by its name (see Tale 2, n. 1).

[9] Qdur (the plural of qidre , "clay pot"; also the plural of qadar , "fate" or "destiny") is not used as a boy's name. Cf. Tale 42, n. 12.
The swallowing of the moon refers to a Palestinian folk belief that a lunar eclipse occurs when a whale swallows the moon. During an eclipse children go outside carrying metal utensils which they beat together while shouting as loud as they can, "O whale, don't swallow our moon!" (Ya hut, la tokil qamarna ). See Hanauer, Folklore : 6, 239-240.

In my lap sits the son of the king,
And the whale has swallowed me."

Looking into the well, the king asked, "Are you down in this well?"

"Just as you see," she answered.

He had a young man like Mhammad Musa lowered into the well.^[10] The man went down and brought her and her child up. Then she told the king what had taken place. "My story is such and such and such," she said, "and so and so. We drank from the springs, this gazelle is my brother, and the women of your house dropped me into the well. This is exactly what has happened to me."

After she was out of the well, the king took her brother and made him drink from the same spring again, and he turned back into this youth that you should come and see.

He then brought together his mother, his sister, and his servantgirl and had it announced that he who loves the sultan must in the morning bring a lapful of wood and a burning coal to, you might say, the town's threshing grounds.^[11] He lit a fire and dropped his mother, his sister, and the servant into it, and burned them.

Then he lived happily with his wife, and he made her brother a sultan—and may you wake up to blessings in the morning!

8.
Sumac! You Son of a Whore, Sumac!

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

Once there was a man and his wife, and they had three sons. They also had a flock of sheep. The wife had not given birth to any daughters, and the whole family yearned for a little girl. One day the woman cried out, "O Lord, would you give me a little girl, even if she turns out to be a

[10] Milammad Musa is the name of someone in the audience.

[11] For more on "the town's threshing grounds" (jrunt il-balad ), see Tale 38, n. 2.

ghouleh!"^[1] Allah fulfilled her wish,^[2] and she became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter. The whole family loved her very, very much.^[3]

Soon after the birth of the girl, when they made their daily check of their herd, they would find that one sheep was missing. "By Allah," said the boys among themselves, "we're going to keep watch and find out who comes and steals a sheep every night." Taking the watch the first night, the eldest brother stayed awake till midnight, then fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he found one sheep missing. The following night the middle brother said he would keep watch. He stayed awake till dawn, then he too fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he counted the sheep and found one missing.

"I want to keep watch tonight," said the youngest.

"You're still young and can't stay up all night," his father and brothers said.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "Why won't you let me give it a try?" He insisted so much that his father and brothers finally said, "All right, if you want to keep watch, you can stay up late."

In the evening he went and filled his pockets with roasted fava beans.^[4] He also placed a thorn bush on either side of him; and, having got hold of a leather bottle, he made a small hole in it, filled it with water, and hung it above his head. Then he sat up to keep watch, munching on the fava beans. If he moved this way or that, a thorn pricked him. And if he started to doze off, the water dripping on his head kept him awake. This way he was able to stay up the whole night. Toward morning he was surprised to see his sister opening the door of the sheep pen. Taking hold of a sheep, she devoured it and wiped her mouth. Then she went back to sleep in her bed.

"Ha! What did you see?" they asked him in the morning.

[1] This narrative formula is used throughout the Palestinian tradition in wishing for children. See Tale 1, n. 3; Tale 40, n. 2.

[2] Alla nataq `a-lsanha —literally, "Allah spoke with her tongue." In this folk metaphor Allah is imagined as having made the wish Himself; its fulfillment is thus guaranteed.

[3] Although the culture encourages the spoiling of boys, the opposite holds true for girls, because it is assumed that indulging a girl will lead her astray. Cf. Tales 12 (esp. n. 2), and 35 (esp. n. 2); and see Granqvist, Birth : 108-109. This attitude is confirmed by many folk expressions, such as "You have to show a girl a red eye" (il-bint biddak it-farjiha `en hamra )—i.e., you must be firm with her; or "A girl should not be given too much freedom [literally, 'eye']" (il-bint ib-tin`ataš `en ). See Tale 13, n. 3.

[4] Roasted lava beans (Vicia faba ) are used for food as well as to entertain oneself or one's guests. See Tale 3, n. 3; Tale 36, n. 1.

"Listen," he answered. "Our sister is a ghouleh, and we must kill her." Not believing him, they all started to shout at him.

"All right," he retorted. "If you're not going to kill her, I'm going to run away and leave this town to you."

"If you want to run away, that's your business," they answered.

He started on his way out of town, traveling for Allah knows how long, until he came on an old woman living in a shack. She had a small flock of sheep.

"Mother," he asked her, "would you mind letting me stay here with you? I'll take your sheep out to graze, and you'll cook for me, wash my clothes, and take care of me?"^[5]

"Why not?" she answered. "I don't have any children of my own, and you'll be like a son to me."

"That will be just fine," he said.

From that day on he took the old woman's sheep out to pasture, coming home in tile evening to eat and spend the night. One day, while roaming with the sheep in the rocky countryside, he came upon a lioness giving birth and having a difficult time of it.

"Please help me," she begged him, "and I'll give you two of my cubs."

He came to her aid, and when she gave birth she gave him two of her cubs. He took very good care of them, feeding them milk till they grew big, and he called one Šwah and the other Lwah.^[6]

One day the man thought to himself, "It's been ten or fifteen years since I've seen my brothers and my parents. I wonder what's become of them." He went to the old woman. "Mother," he said, "I've been away from my country and my family for a long time, and I'd like to go see what's become of them."

"May Allah make your path easy!" the old woman said.

He mounted his mare and set out. When he arrived at the edge of town, he discovered it was in ruins. His sister had emptied it of people.

[5] By using the proper form of address and by circumscribing the situation, tellers always carefully limit the range of inference within any male/female encounter. in this instance, the teller gives other indications besides the form of address ("Mother") that preclude a sexual connection. Cf. Tale 17, n. 11. He specifies, for example, that the woman is old and that she has a flock of sheep but no one to graze them. She can honorably take the young man into her house as a shepherd. Furthermore, a boy on his own is thought to be helpless, needing a mother to cook for him and look after him. Cf. Tale 17, n. 11.

[6] The lions' names are plural forms of words meaning "a wooden board." For other situations where wood offers protection from a ghoul or ghouleh, see Tale 34, n. 9; Tale 35, n. 9.

She had devoured her father, her mother, and everyone else. Nothing was left save a one-eyed rooster, and she was chasing it around town.^[7] When she saw her brother, she pretended she did not know what was happening.

"Welcome, brother!" she greeted him. "Welcome!"

What was he going to do? She had already spotted him. She spread something for him to sit on, and he came in and sat down. After he had sat down, she went outside where the mare was tethered. Moving this way and that, she gobbled up one of its legs and came back inside.

"Brother!"

"What is it, sister?"

"Your mare," she asked, "is it on four legs or on three?"

Understanding what had happened, he replied, "No, sister [it's not on four]. It's on three."

Going back outside, she moved this way and that, gobbled up the second leg, and came back in.

"Brother," she asked, "is your mare on three or on two legs?"

"It's on two," he answered. "That's the way it is in our country."

She kept going in and out until she had devoured the whole mare. Then she came back in and said, "Brother, did you come riding or walking?"

"No, by Allah, sister," he answered, "I came walking."

"Well, you son of a whore!" she roared.^s "You're trapped now. What shall I do with you?"

"Please!" he begged her.

"Not a chance!" she answered, and she fell on him, preparing to eat him.

"Just let me do my ablutions and pray before you eat me," he begged.^[9]

"But you might run away," she said.

"No," he replied. "I won't. You can fill this pitcher with water and let

[7] For an illuminating analysis of the psychoanalytical significance of this image of the one-eyed rooster, see the essay "Wet and Dry, the Evil Eye," by Alan Dundes (Interpreting : 93-133, esp. 115-118). Cf. Tale 6, n. 10.

[8] A Palestinian woman would not use this crude form of address. The ghouleh's use of it indicates perhaps that the girl's ghoulishness consists of insatiable sexual appetite. Dundes's analysis (see n. 7, above) of the single eye and its phallic implications supports this interpretation.

[9] The sister is duty bound to honor the brother's last wish to pray. Here again, human customs and institutions are generalized to include the ghouls. Cf. Tale 6, n. 7; and see Footnote Index, s.v. "Ghouls and Jinn." Like all the ghouls in this collection, as well as ogres in the Indo-European tradition, the ghouleh in this tale is overcome through trickery.

me go up to the roof to cleanse myself. Tie one end of the rope to my hand, and you keep hold of the other end while I'm washing myself."

She tied his wrist, and he took the pitcher and went up to the roof. Finding a large stone there, he untied the rope from his wrist and tied it to the stone.^[10] Then, setting the pitcher against the stone so that the water dribbled out of it slowly, he climbed down from the roof and ran away.

Every once in a while she pulled on the rope and, finding it still tied and the water dribbling, put her mind at ease. Eventually, however, she thought he was taking a rather long time, so she called out, but no one answered. Rushing to the roof to find out what he was up to, she found he had escaped. She looked, and behold! Where was he? He was already on the outskirts of town. She came running after him, and almost caught up with him. What was he to do? Looking about, he saw a palm tree and climbed to the top. She ran after him.

"Where're you going to go now?" she asked.

Transforming her hand into a scythe, she said, "Sharpen, O my scythe, sharpen!" and started to chop the tree down. When it was about to fall, the brother suddenly remembered his lions. "O Šwah! O Lwah!" he cried out. "Your dear brother's gone!" And, behold! like the blowing of the wind the two lions came. No sooner did his sister see them than she started to run away, but they followed her, tore her to pieces, and devoured her. The brother could now come down from the tree safely.

As he was resting with the lions beside him, two merchants approached, leading a loaded caravan. When they saw the lions, they admired them and wanted them for themselves.

"Young man!" they called out.

"Yes," he answered, "what can I do for you?"

"How would you like to make a bet with us?" they asked. "If you can guess what merchandise we're carrying, you can take the caravan and itsload. But if you can't guess, we'll take these two lions."

"All right," he agreed, "I'm willing."

He started guessing: "nuts, lava beans, lentils, wheat, rice, sugar ..." It was no use; he could not guess. When he was stumped, with no chance of guessing, the merchants took the lions with them and moved on.

By Allah, they had not led those lions very far away when a drop of

[10] An older Palestinian house usually had a stone roller on the roof, which was used to tamp down the dirt-and-clay surface of the roof just before and after a rain to prevent it from leaking.

blood, which had fallen from his sister to the ground when the lions ate her, shouted out, "Sumac! You son of a whore, sumac!""

After the merchants the brother ran. "Wait! Uncles, wait!" he exclaimed. "I can guess what your load is. It's sumac!"

Having guessed, he took his lions back and got the caravan with its load.

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

9.
The Green Bird

Once upon a time there was a man. He had a son and a daughter whose mother had died. They had a neighbor who was a widow, and every day she kept after the children, putting ideas in their heads.

"Tell me," she would say, "doesn't your father intend to get married?"

"No, not yet," they would answer.

"Why, then, don't you say to him," she would urge, "'Father, marry our neighbor.'"^[1]

"Father," they would go to him and say, "marry our neighbor."

"Children, you're still too young," he would answer. "If I get married now, your aunt will beat you.^[2] When you're older I'll marry again." And to his daughter he would say, "I'll wait until you're old enough to fill the water jug."

The girl would then go to the woman and say, "Such and such says my father." And the neighbor would go fill the water jug [at the spring], bring it to their house, and urge the girl to say to her father, "Father, I'm now old enough. I've filled the water jug. Marry our neighbor."

"I'll marry when you're old enough to knead the dough," the father would say. "When you're old enough to bake the bread. When you're old enough to cook." Whatever chore he mentioned, the neighbor would

[11] Summaq , the crushed red fruit of a nonpoisonous plant of the cashew family (genus Rhus ), is used extensively in Palestinian cuisine; the leaves, fruit, and bark are also used in tanning and dyeing. See Crowfoot and Baldensperger, Cedar : 94.

[1] The children here must be too young to understand what they are doing, otherwise the woman could not have approached the subject of marriage with them.

[2] Children, especially if their mother is dead, call their stepmother "aunty" (xale —"maternal aunt"). This polite form of address also reflects the way she is expected to treat them, as if they were her sister's children.

come to the house and do it, and the girl would go back to her father and say, "Father, here! I've done this and that. Marry our neighbor."

Eventually the man did marry the neighbor, and she turned against the children and beat them.

One day her husband said, "Wife, by Allah, we've got a craving for stuffed tripe."^[3]

"Bring the tripe," she answered, "and we'll cook it."^[4]

He went and got the tripe, and she scrubbed and cleaned it and put it on the fire. Her husband was plowing in the fields. After she had placed the food on the fire, she set to sweeping the floor. She swept a stroke or two and thought to herself that she might as well check 'and see if the food was ready. She picked up a foot and ate it. Another stroke or two with the broom, and again she said to herself, "Let me poke the food and see if it's ready." She picked up a portion of the tripe and ate it. By the time she realized what she was doing, she had eaten up the whole meal, leaving nothing behind.

"Yee!" she cried out. "The Devil take me!^[5] What's he going to do to me now? Soon he'll be home from plowing, and what's he going to eat? By Allah, I think he'll kill me. He'll blacken my face. Hey, you! Go call your brother right away."

The girl cried, knowing what the woman was up to.

"What do you want with my brother, aunty?"

"I'm telling you to call your brother. And, by Allah, if you don't call him, I'll kill you right now."

The girl went out, calling:

"Hey, brother! Come and don't come!
Come and don't come near!
For you they've sharpened the knives
In front of the shop doors."^[6]

[3] The meal of stuffed tripe (karš ) includes not only the sheep's intestines but also the head and feet. Most women dread preparing the tripe for cooking, because it requires much work; aside from thoroughly cleansing the inside of the intestines, the hair must be removed from the head and feet by singeing and scraping. The intestines, stuffed with rice and chopped lamb to which spices have been added, are cooked with the head and feet in a rich yogurt sauce.

[4] Because karš requires so much work, all the women in the family—and sometimes their sisters, too, if they live nearby—participate in preparing it.

[5] (Ya retni mštahhara )—lierally, "May ! be blackened with soot!" See Tale 1, n. 11.

[6] (Sannulak is-sakakin `a-bwab id-dakakin ). Lamb meat is sold fresh daily, and most butchers will not carry more than they can sell in one day. it is still common to see butchers sharpening their knives by their shop doors, preparing to cut meat for waiting customers.

Coming back in, she said, "O aunty! I haven't been able to find him."

"I'm telling you to call him," the woman snapped back. "Quick as a bird! Otherwise, I'm going to slaughter you."

Back out went the girl, and she called:

"Hey, brother! Come and don't come!
Come and don't come near!
For you they've sharpened the knives
In front of the shop doors."

This last time the woman said, "I'll kill you if you don't bring him." Finally the sister called her brother, and he came.

Taking him inside, the woman locked the door. She slaughtered him, cut him into pieces, and cooked him just as she would cook tripe and in the same pot. The other one sat crying and crying, but the woman said to her, "Consider yourself dead if you speak to your father or anyone else."

The father came home from plowing, hungry.

"Did you cook the tripe, wife?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

Setting the pot down, they cut pieces of bread, poured the sauce over it, piled the meat on top, and set to it.

"Come, girl," the father urged his daughter. "Eat!"

"I don't want any," she said.

"How can you not want any?" he asked. "Eat!"

"No, father," she replied. "I'm full. I've just taken some food and eaten."

"Leave her alone!" his wife cut in. "What do you want with her? All day long she's been hanging about and eating."

"All right," said the father. "But where's your brother? Doesn't he want to eat?"

"He just ate and went out to play," answered the wife: "When. he comes back, even if it's midnight, I'll give him some food."

From that day on, the man would set out for the fields with his team early in the morning and come home late in the evening, tired. He would · ask about the boy, and his wife would say he had just eaten and gone out to play.

Now the sister, after they had finished their meal, took the bones and dug a hole and buried them at the edge of the garden. And every morning she would sit by the place where she buried the bones and cry and cry until she had no more tears. Then she would go home.

One day there was a wedding at a neighbor's house. Her father, her stepmother, and all the girls. [in the neighborhood] put on their best clothes and went to the wedding. "Now that nobody's around," she thought to herself, "I'll dig up the bones and look at them again." She went and dug and (so the story goes) found a marble urn. She dug deeper, unearthed it, and out of it flew a green bird. And what else? The urn was full of gold bracelets, tings, and earrings. There was also a dress, which was something to look at. Putting it on, the girl set out for the wedding wearing all the jewelry. Everyone noticed her, admiring the clothes and the jewelry, but no one recognized her.

In a while, as the wedding procession moved along, a green bird came circling over the head of the bride. He sang:

"I am the green bird
Who graces this gathering!
My stepmother slaughtered me
And my father devoured me
Only my kind sister
(Allah shower mercy on her!)
Gathered up my bones
And saved them in the urn of stone."

"Look! Look!" they all shouted. "There's a bird, and it's speaking!"^[7] They forgot about the wedding procession and turned their attention to the bird.^[8]

"Speak, bird!" they clamored, "Speak again! How beautiful are your words!"

"I won't say anything more," he replied, "until that woman over there opens her mouth."

His stepmother opened her mouth, and he dropped a handful of nails and needles into it. She swallowed them, and behold! she died.

[7] See Tale 10, n. 9; Tale 11, n. 5; Tale 13, n. 11. The green bird in particular occurs in many of the songs sung during wedding celebrations; see Granqvist, Marriage 11:36, n. 2.

[8] The wedding procession (zaffe ) is an essential part of the Palestinian wedding ceremony in which relatives and friends of the couple sing and dance in the street in celebration of the marriage. See Granqvist, Marriage 11:35-137, esp. 55-64 and 79-93. See also Tale 11, n. 4; Tale 14, n. 8; Conder, Tent Work 11:250-252; and cf. Jaussen, Naplouse : 74-84.

"Speak bird!" urged the crowd. "Say morel How beautiful are your words!"

"I won't speak again," he answered, "until that man over there opens his mouth." His father opened his mouth, and the bird dropped a handful of needles and nails into it. He, too, fell dead.

Again the crowd urged the bird. "Speak, bird! How beautiful are your words!"

"I won't say more," he answered, "until that girl over there opens her lap."

His sister opened her lap like this, the bird landed on it, and behold! he turned into a boy again. Her brother had returned as he was before, and they went home and lived together.

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

10.
Little Nightingale the Crier

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

Once upon a time there were three girls. They were spinners and had nothing but their spinning. Every day they used to spin and go down to the market to sell their product and buy food. One day the town crier announced that it was forbidden to put on a light in the city, because the king wanted to test his subjects—to see who was obedient and who was not.^[1] That night the king and his vizier went through the city to check whose lights were on and whose were not.

What were the girls to do? They had nothing but their spinning. Every day one of them would spin, and they would sell her yarn and buy food for all of them to eat. What could they do? They wanted to continue with their spinning, but they dared not put on a light. So the eldest one called out, "O my Lord, my beloved! May the king be passing this way and

[1] For the town crier, see Tale 5, n. 17. Kings are presented in the tales as exercising their power in an arbitrary and fear-inspiring fashion. Cf. the behavior of both kings (the hero's father and his uncle) in Tale 5. Emirs, in contrast (see Tale 13, n. 8), who are Bedouin princes, are presented in a more human light.

hear me, and may he wed me to his baker so I can have my fill of bread!" The middle sister prayed, "And may he wed me to his cook so I can have my fill of food!" Then the youngest made her plea, "O my Lord, my beloved! May the king pass this way and hear me! And may he wed me to his son, and I give birth to two boys and a girl. I will call one of the boys `Aladdin and the other Bahaddin, and the girl Šamsizzha.^[2] If she smiles while it's raining, the sun will shine; and if she cries while the sun's shining, it will rain."

As chance would have it, the king was passing that way, and he heard them.

"Councillor!" ordered the king, "Manage it for me!"

"The owner manages his own property, O Ruler of the Age," replied the vizier.^[3] They put a mark on that shack and went home. In the morning the king sent soldiers, who said to the girls, "Come and see the king!" And they came.

"Obedience is yours, Majesty!" they said.

"Come here," said the king. "What's your story?"

"We are three girls, Your Majesty," they replied, "and we have no one to take care of us and nothing to eat. You ordered the lights out, so what could we do? What you heard, we actually said."

"All fight," he said. "Let it be as you wish!"

He married the eldest to his baker, the middle one to the cook, and the youngest to his son. Seeing that she had married the king's son, whereas they were the wives of the baker and the cook, her sisters became jealous and wanted to take revenge on her. When she became pregnant the first time and was ready to deliver, they went to the midwife and bribed her.

"Take this little puppy," they said. "Put it under our sister and give us the baby.^[4] We'll be waiting for you outside the door of the house. Wrap the baby and hand him over to us, and put the puppy in his place."

The sister had no sooner given birth than the midwife wrapped up the baby, putting the puppy in his place, and handed him over to them. She then went back inside.

[2] The names `Aladdin (`Ala' al-Din, "The Glory of Religion"), Bahaddin (Baha' al-Din, "The Splendor of Religion"), and Šamsizzha (Šams al-Duha, "High Morning Sun") occur frequently in the Thousand and One Nights .

[3] For the sly behavior of the vizier, see Tale 5, n. 9.

[4] For relationships among sisters, see Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture"; for customs related to childbirth, see Granqvist, Birth : 56-72.

"What did the daughter-in-law of the king's household give birth to?" people asked.^[5]

"Yee!" they said,^[6] "What did she give birth to? She gave birth to a puppy!"

The king's family, however, brought up the puppy and were proud of it.

Meanwhile, what did the sisters do? Taking the baby, they wrapped him well, put him in a box, and threw it into the river. On the bank of the river was an orchard, in which lived an old man and an old woman. The aged couple went out in the morning and found a box on the water. They picked it up and opened it, and found a baby. Since they had no children, the old man said, "Why don't we bring him up, old lady? He might be useful to us in the future."^[7] They adopted him.

Now we go back to the king's daughter-in-law. She became pregnant again, and was ready to deliver. As soon as she was about to give birth, her sisters went to the midwife. "Take this newborn kitten," they said, "and put it under her. And as much money as you want, we'll give you. Just hand the baby over to us."

The same thing happened again. As soon as the sister gave birth, the midwife took the baby, wrapped him in a cloth, and gave him to the sisters, placing the cat by the mother.

"What did the daughter-in-law of the king's household give birth to? What did the daughter-in-law of the king's household give birth to?"

"What did she give birth to?" people whispered. "She gave birth to a cat!"

The two sisters did as before, putting the baby in a box and throwing him into the river. Again the old folks living in the orchard came out and found a box. Picking it up, they opened it and found a boy. They adopted him, and now they had two children.

We go back to the mother. She was pregnant again, and was about to give birth. Her sisters said to the midwife, "Here's money! Take it! Take also this stone, put it next to her, and give us the baby."

[5] The way the woman is referred to here, as "daughter-in-law of the king's household" (kinnit dar il-malik ), reveals her place in the extended family in terms of patrilocality.

[6] Here, "Yee!" is an expression of dismay (but cf. Tale 1, n. 8), revealing the importance of public opinion. Arab society, especially in the small villages of Palestine, is highly personal, with anonymity considered a form of death. Later, after the old couple die, the brothers and sister leave the orchard because they do not want to live by themselves.

[7] A clear statement of the utilitarian view of children. See Tale 30, n. 7; Tale 40, n. 5.

When the sister gave birth, the midwife came and took the daughter she had had, wrapped her in a cloth, and gave her to them, leaving the stone in her place. The sisters took her, placed her in a box, and dropped her into the river.

"What did the daughter-in-law of the king's household give birth to? What did she give birth to?" people asked.

"What did she give birth to?" came the answer. "She gave birth to a stone!"

The son of the king, meanwhile, thought to himself, "What's going on? One time she gives birth to a dog, another time to a cat, and this time to a stone." He deserted her.^[8] The baby girl was also discovered by the old couple, and they brought her up with her brothers.

The boys became young men, and the girl became a young lady. She turned out to be exactly as her mother had wished. If it was raining and she laughed, the sun shone; and if it was sunny and she cried, it started to rain. One day the old man died, leaving them all his possessions. Whatever he had—the orchard and the hut—he gave it to the children.

"What!" said the young people. "Are we going to stay here in this orchard all alone? Let's go somewhere, build ourselves a place, and live in it."

Where did they go? They went to their father's city, bought a piece of land across from his palace, built a palace just like his, and settled in it. There they were, by themselves! They did not know anyone, but as they went back and forth in the town, their aunts recognized them. They realized these were the children they had thrown into the water. What were they to do? They wanted to get rid of them. They found an old crone who was willing to help, and, taking a tray full of trinkets with her, she went to their palace and started crying her wares. Waiting until the brothers had gone out to hunt, the old woman cried her wares by their palace.

The girl was sitting by her window. Her brothers were not around, and, wanting to buy something from the old crone, she started weeping. As her tears fell down, they landed on the henna powder and made it soggy. Looking up, the old crone said, "Yee! What am I going to call down upon your head? Why did you do that, my dear?"

"O grandmother!" answered the girl, "my brothers aren't here, and I cried. I don't know why."

[8] The husband, by deserting his wife, ceases to cohabit with her, but he remains responsible for her material welfare. The woman lives separately; she is not, however, divorced, nor is she free to marry again. Cf. Tale 22, n. 21; Tale 35, n. 12.

"Never mind," said the woman.

The girl invited her in, and the old crone came up beside her.

"O, my dearest!" she coaxed. "Here! Take this henna, and whatever else you want—I'll give it to you." Meanwhile, she was looking up and down the palace, inspecting it.

"Yee, by Allah!" she cried out. "Your palace is very beautiful, my dear, and nothing is missing from it except Little Nightingale the Crier."

"Where's Little Nightingale the Crier, grandmother?" asked the girl. "And who's going to bring him?"

"Your brothers will bring him," the old crone replied. "You have two such brothers, Allah bless the Prophet on their behalf! and you ask who's going to bring Little Nightingale!"

The girl sat and wept. Clouds formed, thunder roared, and rain fell. The brothers wondered what might have befallen their sister, and they came home running.

"What's the matter, sister?"

"Nothing's the matter," she replied. "A woman came to see me and said my palace was missing nothing except Little Nightingale the Crier, and I want him."

"And how are we going to get him for you, sister?" they asked.

"I don't know," she answered, "but I want Little Nightingale the Crier to put in our palace."^[9]

"Fine," said the eldest brother. "Prepare some provisions for my journey, and I'll go." Removing a ring from his finger, he gave it to his younger brother and said, "Wear this ring, and if it becomes tight on your finger, then I'm in danger and you should follow after me for three days and a third. If the ring doesn't get any tighter, then I'm all right and you shouldn't come for me."

[9] Four tales (9, 10, 11, 12) have titles directly connected with birds. In Tales 11 (see n. 5) and 12 (n. 1) the sexual symbolism of the bird is explicit; see also Tale 8, n. 7. In the present context two indications lend credibility to this interpretation. First, in Palestinian and Arabic folk narrative old crones usually serve as go-betweens in illicit relationships. And second, the fact that the brothers run home, anxious about their sister, betrays their concerns about her honor. On the connection between "bird" and "husband," see afterword, below; on the versatility of the bird symbol in the tales, see Tale 13, n. 11; on brothers and husbands, see Granqvist, Marriage 11:252-256.

Birds are also significant in other genres of Palestinian folklore, particularly folk songs and proverbs. See Stephan's collection of bird-related proverbs in part 2(1928) of "Animals in Palestinian Folklore," esp. no. 714—"If your bird shows up, your blessings are on the way " (in 'ojah terak, 'ojah xerak ).

His sister prepared his horse, loading it with provisions, and he departed. He traveled for a while, and in the course of his travels he came' upon a ghoul in the wilderness.

"Peace to you, father!" he said.

"And to you, peace!" responded the ghoul. "If your salaam had not come before you'd spoken, I would've torn your flesh to pieces before tackling your bones. What's your story? Where're you going, young master?"

"I'm on my way to fetch Little Nightingale the Crier," he replied.

"In that case," said the ghoul, "go straight ahead. I have a brother who's older than me by a month but wiser by a lifetime. He'll show you the way."

The young man traveled until he reached the second ghoul.

"Peace to you, father!"

"And to you, peace!" answered the ghoul. "If your salaam had not come before you'd spoken, I would've torn your flesh to pieces before tackling your bones. Where're you going, `Aladdin?"

"By Allah," replied the young man, "I'm on my way to fetch Little Nightingale the Crier."

"Son," the ghoul advised, "go straight ahead for a while, and you'll see my sister. If you find her grinding salt and her eyes red, come up to her and eat some of her salt, then suck at her breasts.^[10] But if you find her grinding sugar, don't go near her!"

"Fine," said the young man, and moved on. In a while he came upon the ghouleh and found her grinding salt. Her hair was disheveled, and her breasts were hanging down in front of her. Coming forward, he sucked at her right breast.

"Who was it that sucked at my right breast?" she asked. "He's now dearer to me than my son Isma`in."

He turned and sucked at the left breast.

"Who was it that sucked at my left breast?" she asked. "He's now dearer than my son `Abdir-rahman."

Turning to face her, he ate some of what she was grinding.

[10] For the ghouleh's red eyes, cf. Tale 33, n. 7; for the ghouleh as a helper, see Tale 20, n . 5.

Salt symbolizes the bond that holds people together. The phrase "They've shared bread and salt" (benhum `eš u-malih ) describes a strong bond, and when someone breaks a trust he is said to have "betrayed the bread and salt" (yxun il-`eš w-il-malih ).

"Welcome in Allah's safekeeping!" announced the ghouleh. "And may Allah betray him who betrays this oath! What can I do for you?"

"I want Little Nightingale the Crier," he answered.

"Ah, yes!" responded the ghouleh. "You should know that Little Nightingale the Crier is a bird in such and such an orchard. Better wait till my sons come home. You can't reach him on your own."

Blowing on him, she turned him into a pin, which she stuck in her headband, and sat waiting until her children came. In wind and storm her sons arrived. They were forty, and one of them was lame.^[11] Before they had even arrived, they were muttering, "You smell of human, mother!"

"I smell of no human," replied the mother, "nor do I have anything like that around. Sit down and be quiet!" But they kept on chattering and saying, "You smell of human."

"Listen and I'll tell you," she confessed. "He has suckled at my breasts, so he's now my son like all of you. All of you guarantee his safety, and I'll bring him out."

"He's welcome in Allah's safekeeping," they swore, "and may Allah betray ham who betrays this oath!"

When the ghouleh brought him out and they had a good look at him, they greeted him, and they all sat down together.

"Do you know what he wants?" asked the ghouleh of her children.

"No," they answered.

"He's your brother," she went on, "and he wants Little Nightingale the Crier. Which of you is going to take him?" One of them said he'd do it in ten days, another said in two, and a third in an hour.

"I'll take him there in the wink of an eye," the lame one jumped in.

"Get moving!" said the ghouleh. "But be careful, `Aladdin. There's a cage hanging in a tree, and Little Nightingale comes there to roost for the night. Perching in the tree, he will shout, 'I'm Little Nightingale the Crier! Who dare say, "Here I am!"' He'll say it three times. If you declare. yourself, you're lost; but if you don't, you can catch him and bring him with you."

"Very well," he said.

Picking him up, the lame ghoul brought him to Little Nightingale's orchard, where the ghoul let him down and left. The youth went into the orchard, and in flew Little Nightingale the Crier and perched in a tree.

[11] he number forty occurs frequently in both Palestinian and Arabic folk narrative. For a discussion of its significance in Palestinian folklore, see Tale 21, n. 7.

"I'm Little Nightingale the Crier!" he declared. "Who dare say, 'Here I am!'" The first time the young man held his tongue, but the second time he shouted back, "Here I am!"

"You!" laughed the. bird, and he blew on him, turning him into a stone, and rolled him down the orchard.

Now the ring tightened around `Aladdin's brother's finger, and he mounted his horse and came after his brother. As the first brother had done, so did the second. He visited the ghouleh and was taken to the orchard. Before leaving, though, he had given the ring to his sister. When he came into the orchard, the bird flew in: "I'm Little Nightingale the Crier! Who dare say, 'Here I am!'" The first time and the second, he kept quiet, but the third time he shouted back, "Here I am!"

"You!" said the bird, and he blew on him, tossing him down like his brother.

Who was left? The sister. The ring tightened around her finger. What was she to do? "My brothers are lost to me," she said to herself. She wanted to follow them. Saddling the horse, she disguised herself and followed them. She did the same as her brothers, going to the ghouleh.

"Listen!" said the ghouleh. "You'll be lost like your brothers, and all memory of you will be gone forever. But if you can catch him, you'll save your brothers and many other people as well. Take care! Don't talk back to him!"

"No, I won't," said the girl.

When they had brought her to the orchard, she climbed into a tree and sat waiting. In flew the bird: "I'm Little Nightingale the Crier! Who dare say, 'Here I am!' I'm Little Nightingale the Crier . . ." He repeated his call till he nearly burst, but she was waiting for him without making a sound. When he had finished, he went into his cage. Now, she was waiting fight behind the cage on the tree. She shut the door on him quickly, locked it, and took the cage in her hand.

"Please!" he begged. "Let me go free! I'll sing for you, I'll do anything."

"Not a chance," she said. "Bring back my brothers!"

"Take a handful of dirt from that molehill," he said, "and sprinkle it on those stones over there, and your brothers will rise."

Lifting some dirt, she threw it over the stones, and her brothers came back to life. She went On sprinkling dirt all over the stones, and a whole creation came back to life. Everyone went back to his family. Carrying

the cage with her, she returned to the ghouleh with her brothers. They said good-bye to the ghouleh and went home.

Once they reached home, they hung the cage up inside the palace. The boys would go hunting and then come back and sit in the coffeehouses. Eventually their fame spread in the city. "Whose children are these?" people asked. "Where did they come from?"

One day they met their father at the coffeehouse, but they did not recognize one another. How fond of them he became! He would invite them over and enjoy their company.

"You must come and have dinner with us," said the brothers to him one day. "You've already invited us two or three times, and now you must come and eat with us, O Ruler of the Age!"

"Yes," he said, "why not?"

When they had prepared the dinner, Little Nightingale the Crier said, "Put a dish of carrots with the meal, among the fruits." They served dinner and ate. How delightful it was! They had a great time. After dinner they brought a plate of fruits and served it, along with the dish of carrots.

"Little Nightingale? they called. "Come and eat!"

"No, by Allah!" he cried out. "Little Nightingale the Crier does not eat carrots, O you stupid people of this city! You bulls and donkeys! In all your life have you ever heard that a daughter-in-law of the king's household would give birth to a dog, a cat, and a stone?"

The king was taken aback. "Say it again, O Crier!" he urged.

"I am Little Nightingale the Crier," answered the bird, "and I don't eat carrots, O you stupid people of this city! In all your life have you ever heard of a daughter-in-law in the king's household giving birth to a dog, a cat, and a stone?"

"What are you saying, O Little Nightingale Crier?" asked the king.

"This is what I am saying," replied the bird. "The daughter-in-law of the king's household did not give birth to a dog, a cat, and a stone. Your children, Bahaddin and `Aladdin and Šamsizzha, are the ones who are here with you."

The king sent for the midwife. "Either you tell me the story," he threatened, "or I'll cut off your head."

"Please, O Ruler of the Age!" she begged, "It wasn't my fault. Her sisters bribed me and gave me the puppy, the cat, and the stone to put in place of her children. These here are your children."

The king had the heads of the midwife and the sisters cut off, and it

was announced that he who loved the king must bring a load of wood and burning embers. He burned their corpses in the fire and scattered their ashes to the wind.

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

Afterword

The tales in this group focus on relationships among siblings in different contexts. Siblings of the same sex generally have relationships characterized by conflict, competition, and jealousy; among cross-sexual siblings, however, relationships of love, tenderness, and mutual cooperation prevail.

In "Half-a-Halfling," the competition between the brothers is acted out against a family background of polygyny and first-cousin marriage. This tale is one of the best loved and most popular in Palestine, perhaps because it dramatizes a situation that can occur in any family—that concerning an underdog younger (or smaller) brother. Here, however, a child who identifies with Half-a-Halfling would not feel too much guilt, for the siblings are only half brothers—they are not from the same womb and have not sucked from the same breast. The use of polygyny as a narrative idiom thus serves to palliate the effects of jealousy and hostility among the brothers. The tale, moreover, has all the elements of a hero fantasy, providing a good role model for children: the hero attains his goal by exercising the virtues of courage, truthfulness, and resourcefulness, and in helping his brothers escape the ghouleh he demonstrates generosity of spirit by rising above the pettiness of sibling rivalry.

The pattern of rivalry among siblings of the same sex in "Little Nightingale the Crier" shows the importance of marriage to a woman. The first concern of the elder sisters is not just for food, but for husbands who can provide food. The teller himself emphasizes their loneliness and isolation before marriage, their struggle for existence, and their hunger. An unmarried woman lacks self-definition, not only because she is without a husband but also because she will have no children. After marriage, however, the sisters change markedly in character—although as we might expect, the elder two sisters' jealousy over the superior marriage of the younger does not manifest itself until after the birth of her first child.

"Sumac! You Son of a Whore, Sumac!" presents us with a rather unusual situation—a hostile brother/sister relationship, based here on the sister's ghoulishness. The sexual interpretation suggested in the footnotes is supported by the context. A girl's honor is her most precious possession, and the only way she can ruin her family is by sexual transgression. Only one socially acceptable reason exists for killing a sister, and that is to regain the family honor by removing the shame of such a transgression. Of course, such situations have always been rare, but when they do occur, this ultimate form of punishment is sanctioned by society. It is said of someone who regains his honor in this way: "So and so is a lion; he took revenge with his own hands" (flan sabi`, istad taro b'ido ). In "Sumac!" the family accepts the shame and is destroyed, but the brother gains everything in the end—his lions as well as the caravan. Nevertheless, the blood bond between brother and sister proves in the long run powerful and indestructible, and finally outweighs the hostility. Even though he has killed her, she is still his sister, and she does not wish to see strangers take something from him. "Blood will never turn into water" (id-dam bisirš mayy ), they say; "One drop of blood is better than a thousand friends" (nuqtit dam, wala alf sahib ).

The remaining three tales in this group ("The Orphans' Cow," "The Green Bird," and "Little Nightingale the Crier") show more clearly the nature of the brother/sister bond. In all three the tenderness and love brother and sister feel for each other is selfless. When the brother(s) and sister are left to face the world on their own, they seem to do better at it than husbands and wives, whose relationships inevitably involve some self-interest and therefore conflict. Here, the sisters bring their brothers back to life: a husband, after all, may divorce his wife, but a brother will remain a woman's protector for life, even after he is married and has a family of his own.

"The Green Bird" adds a new dimension to our understanding of the brother/sister relationship. With the father, as usual, under the control of a new wife, the brother and sister are left on their own. The tale thus juxtaposes two sets of relationships. Obviously, the second relationship, that between brother and sister, is superior to the first, for there a power struggle, which seems inescapable when a man marries a stranger, is nonexistent. By presenting the sister as crying over the brother's bones, bringing him back to life through her love, and then living with him, the tale idealizes their relationship, bringing them almost, but not quite, to the point of marriage.

"The Green Bird" provides a meaningful due concerning the cultural emphasis on first-cousin marriage, a union we encounter throughout the corpus. First-cousin marriage ideally combines both brother/sister and husband/wife relationships. Because a man's first cousin is almost as close to him as his own sister, his relationship with her should be characterized by brotherly tenderness. Yet because she is not a direct blood relative, the relationship can be a sexual one, but without encompassing the conflict the husband would face if he were to marry a stranger.

"The Orphans' Cow" takes the relationship presented in "The Green Bird" a step further. Here the brother and sister are put into situations that serve to increase their affection. Following the death of their mother, they become progressively more isolated and come to rely on each other more and more; indeed, their very survival depends on their mutual love and cooperation. To demonstrate the importance of this connection between brother and sister, "The Orphans' Cow," like "The Green Bird," juxtaposes two relationships: sister/brother and wife/husband. Although the brother cannot be as a husband to his sister, equally important, a husband can never be as a brother to his wife. It is therefore as essential that the sister have her brother by her side as that she have a husband. The transformation of the brother into a gazelle because of his own stubbornness makes the point even more dearly, for it would be much easier for the sister to abandon an animal than a human being. Yet, though transformed, he is still her brother, and when faced with the choice of sacrificing him or marrying, even a king, the sister chooses to keep him by her wherever she goes. This transformation also serves two other related functions: it allows the sister both to marry without offending the brother and to bring him back to human form—with the husband helping to effect the second transformation. The sister has thereby gained a husband without losing her brother, and all three live together in harmony.

"Little Nightingale the Crier" (presented in Arabic in Appendix A) also carries the theme of the ideal relationship between brother and sister, but it adds a new dimension. In this tale the brothers and sister live together happily, free from family constraints and parental authority—an ideal situation. Yet something is missing, and it is not hard to guess what that is, considering the central importance of marriage in a woman's life.

When a girl marries, she is lost to her family, and it is not unusual for them, especially the women, to sing dirgelike songs (tarawid or fraqiyyat , "songs of parting") when the bridegroom's relatives come to take away their daughter. For the daughter, the move from the house of her father

to that of her husband entails a change in sexual and social status. Hence, many brides are too shy, especially of their male relatives, to visit their natal families soon after marriage. Their brothers may worry that their husbands are not treating them decently, and the husbands for their part may fear that their brides are too attached to their natal families. The bride, then, must try to bridge the gap between her two families in order to erase anxieties on both sides. In light of this background, we see why the brothers in the tale did not (or could not) stand up to Little Nightingale's challenge: they are in effect unwilling, or unable, to let go of her.

Looking ahead to Tale 12, we see an explicit equation of bird with husband. It would therefore be reasonable to assume that Little Nightingale represents the same idea, albeit less explicitly. Through the use of symbol, the tale—which, it is important to recall, children will hear—treats the taboo subject of sexuality with utmost delicacy. When the brothers are unable to bring back Little Nightingale, the girl has the perfect excuse of going to save them without compromising her honor. Once she is secure of her mate, as we may conclude from the image of the bird in the cage dangling from her arm, she can revive her brothers. Thus she becomes a model woman, gaining both her brothers and a husband, but without losing her individual identity. And, of course, Little Nightingale is instrumental in bringing about the reunion Of the children with their family at the end, thereby completing the circle. Thus Šamsizzha, like Bdur in "The Orphans' Cow," where the choice between husband and brother is presented more explicitly, gains a husband without risking the loss of either her brothers or her honor.

SEXUAL AWAKENING AND COURTSHIP

11.
The Little Bird

TELLER: Allah is the only God!
AUDIENCE: There is no god but He!

Once upon a time there was a little bird. She dug in the earth and dug, she dyed her hands with henna.^[1] She dug in the earth and dug, she dyed her feet with henna. She looked up to the Lord, and He beautified her eyes with kohl.^[2] She went on digging and digging, and found a bolt of silk. "What am I going to do with this?" she asked herself. "By Allah, I'm going to have it made into a dress."

So she went to the seamstress. "Take this," she said, "and make dresses out of it—one for me and the other for you." Coming back later, she said, "Let me see which is better, my dress or yours." She then took them to have a look, put them in her beak, and—frrrr!—away she flew. She hid them in a tree and came back the next day.

She dug and dug in the same place, and found two scarves. "Oh, how beautiful they are!" she cried out. "By Allah, I must take them to the girl who can crochet a fringe on them." So she went to this girl and said, "Do one for me and the other for you." In a while, she came back. "Let me see which is prettier," she said, "yours or mine." Putting the scarves in her beak, she tricked the girl, and—frrrr!—away she flew.^[3]

Then, little darlings, she went back and dug once again, and found some cotton. "Oh, how beautiful it is!" she cried out. Going to the mat-

[1] Henna (hinna ) is a vegetable-powder dye (from Lawsonia inermis ) that stains the body red or auburn. Staining the bride's hands and feet with henna is a formal part of the Palestinian wedding ceremony, usually performed by the women of the bridegroom's family to the accompaniment of singing and dancing. See Granqvist, Marriage 11:46-51 ("The Night of the Henna").

[2] Kohl (kuhul ) is a cosmetic preparation (powdered antimony sulfide) with a bluish tint, used as an eye shadow.

[3] Girls prepare their trousseaus from an early age (sometimes as early as ten or eleven), making handkerchiefs, cocheted headdresses, and embroidered dresses, pillow cases, and table cloths.

tress maker, she said, "Would you make me a mattress from this cotton, uncle, and please make another one as payment for yourself." He took the cotton and made a mattress for himself and another for her. "Let me see if you made my mattress exactly like yours," she said when she came back. "Maybe you made yours bigger than mine."

"Take them and see," replied the man.

She took them, put them in her beak, and—frrrr!—away she flew. Folding each of them over, she had four layers, just like a bride's seat. She put on both her silk dresses, one on top of the other, wrapped the scarves around her head, and what did she look like but a bride, sitting in the bridal seat with henna on her hands and feet, kohl in her eyes, and wearing all those clothes.^[4]

She sat awhile. Then, my little darlings, came the son of the sultan, who was roaming the neighborhood looking for something. Meanwhile, she was singing:

"I'm wearing my very best!
Ya-la-lal-li
And this is the day of my feast
Ya-la-lal-la."

"Eh!" he thought. "Who is singing like that?" He listened carefully, and behold! it was the little bird singing. Aiming his gun, he fired and shot her. She sang her song:

"What a sharp shooter!
Ya-la-lal-li
What a sharp shooter!
Ya-la-lal-la."

He then plucked her feathers, and she was singing:

"A fine feather-plucker!
Ya-la-lal-li
A fine feather-plucker!
Ya-la-lal-la."

[4] The bridal seat (masmade ) is usually an elevated seat, composed of several folded mattresses, where the bride sits after having been led in the wedding procession (zaffe ) from her father's house to that of the groom with all the female wedding guests singing, dancing, and ululating (zagarit ) around her. The groom usually joins her later in the evening, and the couple sit together in the midst of the dancing and singing. See Tale 9, n. 8; Tale 14, n. 8; Footnote Index, s. v. "Marriage Customs."

Then he cooked her, and still she chirped:

"What a good cook!
Ya-la-lal-li
What a good cook!
Ya-la-lal-la."

Putting her into his mouth, he chewed her until she was soft, then swallowed her. She went down into his stomach. In a while, he got up and shat her. She then sang out:

"Ho! Ho! I saw the prince's hole,
It's red, red, like a burning coal."^[5]

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

12.
Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds^[1]

Once there was a father, a merchant with three daughters. Two were from one mother, while the third was from a different mother. She was the youngest of the three and very beautiful. Her father loved her very much, and had given her the name of Sitt il-Husun.^[2]

[5] "The Little Bird" is one of the first tales to which Palestinian children are exposed; this version was in fact narrated to children. Although sexual subjects are taboo in polite conversation, Palestinian folk culture in general is accepting of language that concerns other bodily functions, which are a principal source of humor in the tales.

For a discussion of the symbolic use of birds in a sexual context, see Tale 10, n. 9, and the afterword to Group I, "Siblings." The bird is a versatile symbol (Tale 13, n. 11). Whereas in Tales 9, 10, and 12 the bird is associated with male sexuality, in this tale it is used as a symbol of femininity and of the indestructible power associated with femininity. Translated literally, the title of the tale, "il-`asfura z-zgire ," is "The Little She-Bird" (cf. Tale 1, n. 1, on the symbolic association of gender in the Arabic language).

[1] In Arabic the tale has a rhyming name, "Jummez bin Yazur, šex it-tyur," consisting of two symbolic references to male sexuality: the bird (see Tale 10, n. 9) and the fruit jummez , a type of fig (Ficus sycamorus ) that hangs down in bunches more like cherries than figs. The use of fruit and other foods to symbolize sexuality occurs elsewhere in the collection; see Tale 35, n. 1, and cf. the reference to mulberries in Tale 21. Yazur is the name of a Palestinian village on the coastal plain not far from Jaffa; bin Yazur means literally "Son of Yazur."

Jummez is not used as a name in real life. Nor is Sitt il-Husun, which is a genetic name meaning "Mistress of Beauty' and the feminine counterpart of Hasan, a genetic name for a hero; see Tale 5, n. 4.

[2] A general pattern is becoming discernible concerning the character types that become heroes and heroines. The boys are generally the underdogs—the younger brothers— whereas the girls tend to be their parents' favorites and seem inevitably to get involved in some misadventure of a sexual nature. See Tale 8, n. 3; cf. Tale 35, n. 2.

Here, the father loves the girl not only because of her beauty but also (and more important) because she is the daughter of his second wife (cf. Tale 3, n. 2), a point the teller emphasizes.

Wanting to go on the hajj, the father one day asked his daughters what they wished. "Name something I can bring back with me," he said.

"I want a gold bracelet," announced the eldest. "And I want a dress embroidered with the most expensive silk," said the second.^[3] "As for me, father," said Sitt il-Husun, "I want Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds. And if you don't bring him to me, may your camels collapse in Aqaba and be unable to move!"

The father went, completed the hajj, and returned. On the way back his camels collapsed in Aqaba, and he remembered. "Ah, yes!" he thought. "By Allah, I've forgotten to bring Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds."^[4] Returning [to Mecca], he wandered around the city asking about Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds. Finally he came upon an aged sheikh, who gave him directions to Yazur's house. "Go stand by his door," the old man said, "and call out three times, 'Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds! My daughter has asked for you.'"

The father walked and walked, until he reached the house described by the sheikh. It was a hot day, and he was thirsty. Seeing a water jar by the door, he reached out his hand to drink, but listen! "Take your hand away!" said the jar. "May it be cut off! You dare to drink from your master's house?"^[5] He was afraid, poor man! Stepping back, he shouted out

[3] The dress here (tob ) is the classic full-length, embroidered Palestinian dress; see Still-man, Costume , and Namikawa, Mon'yo , for color photographs. MacDonald ("Dress": 55) says that the "outstanding impression of native dress in Palestine, and in particular, women's, was the richness of its diversity." For a comprehensive study of Palestinian folk costume, with abundant color photographs including a catalog of embroidery patterns, see Kanaana et al., Al-Malabis ; bibliographies in Stillman and Kanaana.

[4] Although forgetting to bring something back from the hajj is a narrative cliché (cf. Tale 35), its use here is appropriate to the context. The father loves the daughter very much and wants to fulfill her wishes, yet to do so would mean violating the most sacred mores of the culture concerning women's sexual honor; hence, forgetting is a sort of ambivalence on his part.

[5] This whole episode is a satirical comment on a curious practice from Ottoman times, when occasionally Turks living in Arab countries who had no power by virtue of wealth or government position but who still wished to exercise authority over inferiors would set in front of their homes two jars full of water for thirsty passersby; when, however, someone did try to take a drink, the waiting Turk would shout, "Don't drink from that jar, drink from the other one!" The authors are indebted to Professor Luis `Awad for this information.

three times, "Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds! My daughter has asked for you!" and headed straight home.

Three nights after he arrived, look! a bird was beating his wings against Sitt il-Husun's window. She got up and opened it for him, and he came in. Fluttering his wings, he turned into a youth, one of the handsomest of young men. Every night after that he came and stayed with her, and at dawn he would turn back into a bird and fly away, leaving her a purse full of gold under the pillow.

Her sisters found out, and jealousy crept into them.^[6] One day her eldest sister came and said, "Ask Jummez what's most precious to him where he comes from." Now Sitt il-Husun was simple and innocent of heart, and when he came in the evening, she asked, "What does you most harm in your natural environment?"^[7]

"Why?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"Because," she answered, "I just want to know." And she kept after him till he told her the thing that did him most harm was glass. If a piece of glass were to cut him, he would never be able to recover.

When she told her sisters, they went behind her back and broke the glass of the window where he came in. That evening when he came to visit her he tried to pass through the window, but the broken glass wounded him. Away he flew, back where he came from.

Sitt il-Husun waited a day then two, a week then two, and when he did not come back, she realized her sisters had tricked her and that Jummez was now sick. Putting on the disguise of a beggar, she wandered from one place to another in search of him. One day while she was sitting under a tree, two doves landed in the branches and began a conversation.

"You see, sister," said one, "it turns out Jummez's wife had been wanting to kill him."

"If only there were somebody," replied the other, "(Far be it from my feathers and yours, and my blood and yours!) if there were someone who would slaughter a dove, drain her blood and mix it with the feathers, and then rub it on his legs, he'd get well again."

[6] In the tales, jealousy among sisters is usually more vicious than is conflict among brothers, perhaps because it is based on sexual competition. Cf. Tales 10, 20, and 43; see the afterword to Group I, "Siblings."

[7] At first glance something seems to be amiss in the telling: the sisters ask what is most precious to Jummez, and Sitt il-Husun wants to know what does him most harm. The two questions, however, add up to the same thing, for the removal of what is most precious, as the sisters clearly intended, does the most harm. The question nevertheless remains obscure.

Sitt il-Husun rose up. She went and got a dove, slaughtered it, drained its blood, burned its feathers. Mixing them together, she carried the medicine with her and wandered about the city, calling out, "I am the doctor with the cure!"

One day she passed in front of a certain house, and listen! there were girls crying by the window. When they saw her, they called her up, saying their brother was sick and no one had been able to cure him. Sitt il-Husun came in and rubbed the medicine into his wounds, staying up with him day and night for two weeks, until he woke up. When he awoke, he recognized her.

"O Sitt il-Husun!" he cried out. "You did me a great wrong!"

"It wasn't me!" she answered. "My sisters did that to you."

"It's no matter," he responded. "Don't let it worry you."

When his sisters discovered she was his sweetheart and he wanted to marry her, they said, "You can't marry our brother until you've swept and mopped this whole town."^[8]

She started to weep, but Jummez said, "Go to the top of that mountain and cry out, 'O you there, sweep! O you thing there, mop!'" Going to the top of the mountain, she did as he had told her, and indeed, the whole town was swept and mopped.

Seeing that she had accomplished that, the sisters said, "You won't marry our brother until you've brought enough feathers to fill ten mattresses for the wedding." She went crying to Jummez, but he said, "Don't be afraid. Go up the mountain and repeat three times, 'Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds, is dead!'" Going back to the top of the mountain, she called out three times, "Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds, is dead!" No sooner had she said it than all the birds gathered and started wailing and lamenting, plucking out their feathers over their chief.^[9] Soon there were piles and piles of feathers on the ground.

Gathering the feathers, she took them to Jummez's sisters, but they said, "You can't marry our brother until you've fetched the straw tray hanging on the wall of the ghouleh's house."^[10]

[8] For the role of the sisters in "criticizing" the bride, see the section on mother/daughter relationships in the Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture."

[9] The birds' lamenting and tearing out of their feathers describes a cultural idiom, namely, the behavior of women during the wake held for brothers, husbands, or sons, when they rend their clothes and tear out their hair. See Tale 25, n. 4.

[10] The weaving of colorful straw trays (tbaq ; sing., tabaq ) is a folk craft that is still practiced. The trays are used for many purposes, the most common being associated with making bread. They are frequently hung on walls, both to keep them handy and to serve as decoration.

Again she went crying to Jummez. "Don't cry," he comforted her. "This one's easy! Go to the ghouleh's house, and you'll find meat in front of the horses and barley in front of the lions. Switch the meat and the barley. You'll also find the stone terrace by the ghouleh's house collapsed.^[11] Repair it, then go into the house and pull the tray down. But take care! If it scrapes against the wall, the ghouleh will wake up."

So to the ghouleh's house went Sitt il-Husun, to do as Jummez had told her. But when she went in to take the straw tray, she saw the ghouleh sleeping and shook with fear. As she was pulling the tray down, it scraped against the wall, shaking the whole world and waking up the ghouleh. Snatching the tray, Sitt il-Husun ran with it, the ghouleh following her.

"Retaining wall, catch her!" shrieked the ghouleh.

"For twenty years I've been collapsed, and she repaired me," answered the wall. "I won't do it."

"Horses, catch her!" commanded the ghouleh.

"For twenty years we haven't tasted barley, and she fed us. No!"

"Lions, catch her!"

"For twenty years we haven't tasted meat, and she fed us. No, we won't!"

Thus the ghouleh was not able to catch her, and Sitt il-Husun brought the tray and presented it to Jummez's sisters. When they were satisfied that she had done all her tasks, they gave their consent to their brother's marriage.

They held wedding celebrations. Sitt il-Husun married Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds, and he lifted her up and flew away with her.

The bird has flown, and a good night to all!

[11] Stone terraces or retaining walls (sanasil ), built with medium-size stones, are characteristic of the hilly parts of the Palestinian landscape. When they collapse, usually as a result of heavy rain, they must be quickly rebuilt to keep the topsoil in place. Terrace construction, which requires considerable skill, is a rapidly disappearing folk craft.

Obviously, part of the ghouleh's ghoulishness lies not only in her stupidity, since she feeds meat to the horses and barley to the lions, but also in her laziness.

13.
Jbene

Once upon a time there was a woman who could not get pregnant and have children. One day, when a cheese vendor passed through, she gathered herself and cried out, "You who ask, your wish be granted!^[1] May Allah grant me a daughter with a face as white as this piece of cheese!" Allah spoke with her tongue, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter with a face so fair it was like a square of cheese, and she called her Jbene.^[2]

When Jbene grew up she was very beautiful, and all the girls in the neighborhood became jealous of her.^[3] One day her companions came to her and said, "Jbene, let's go pick dom together."^[4]

"Not until you ask my mother," she answered.

So to her mother they went and said, "O Jbene's mother, for the life of Jbene, won't you let Jbene come pick dom with us?"

"It's not my concern," she answered.^[5] "Go speak with her father!"

They went to her father and said, "O Jbene's father, for the life of Jbene, won't you let Jbene come pick dom with us?"

"It's not my concern," he answered. "Go speak with her paternal aunt!"

[1] "You who ask, your wish be granted!"—ya talbe, ya galbe —is literally, "O supplicant, O winner!" Cf. Tale 40, n. 2.

For "May Allah grant me," see Tale I, n. 3; Tale 8, n. 1.

[2] Jbene (diminutive of jibne , "cheese") is not used as a name. The cheese referred to here is made from sheep's milk. It is white and comes in slabs (qras ; sing., qurs ) of about three inches square by half an inch, with rounded comers, that are stacked in brine. Thus, the mother is asking for a daughter with fair complexion and a round face. See Tale 2, n. 1.

[3] With reference to Tale 12, n. 2, and Tale 8, n. 3, we may conclude from the evidence at hand—Jbene's being an only child, her having been conceived as a result of a craving, and her need to gain the permission of so many people—that she is pampered and that she is about to have an adventure touching on her honor: she is so precious that no one wants to risk the decision to let her go. See n. 5, below.

[4] According to Crowfoot and Baldensperger (Cedar : 112), dom , or Christ-thorn (Zizyphus spina-christi ), is a wild tree bearing edible fruit. Tradition has it that Christ's crown of thorns was made from the branches of this tree. Some specimens are centuries old and have attained considerable size.

[5] The sense of this response (in Arabic, bixusniš ) apparently conveys not so much a lack of concern as an unwillingness to claim authority for making the decision (see n. 3, above). Perhaps the order of responsibility given in the tale—the exact opposite of what it would be in life—is meant to foreshadow the evil that befalls Jbene. Thus, shifting the responsibility for the decision to the person with the least authority (Jbene's maternal aunt) removes the blame, should something bad occur, from those on whom it should properly fall, namely the parents, particularly the father.

They went to her paternal aunt and said, "O Jbene's aunt, for the life of Jbene, won't you let Jbene come pick dom with us?"

"It's not my concern," she answered. "Go speak with her maternal aunt!"

So to the maternal aunt they went and said, "O Jbene's aunt, for the life of Jbene, won't you let Jbene come pick dom with us?"

"Fine," said the aunt to them. "Let her go with you."

The girls gathered together and went to pick dom . When they reached the dom trees, they asked, "Who's going to climb the tree for us?"

Jbene was the youngest and the best behaved among them. "I'll climb it," she said.

Climbing the tree, she picked dom and dropped it for them under the tree.

"We'll fill your basket," they said to her.

They filled their baskets with dom , but they filled hers with snails. As the sun was setting, they abandoned her up in the tree and went to their homes. Night fell, and Jbene could not climb down from the tree.^[6]

Her mother went and asked her friends, but they said, "Jbene didn't come with us."

Later a horseman came by, riding a mare. The mare approached the tree but backed away in fear. Looking up into the tree, the horseman saw the girl. "Come down!" he said, but she would not because she was afraid. "I swear by Allah your safety's guaranteed," he said to her, and only then did the gift heed him. She came down, and he set her behind him on the mare and rode home with her?

[6] In another version we collected of this tale, Jbene's abandonment is more logical. When she comes down and finds her basket full of snails, she decides to go back up the tree and pick enough dom to fill her basket (june ). Her friends, however, claiming it is getting dark, refuse to wait for her.

[7] The form, or formula, of this standard and traditional oath—`aleki 'alla w-aman alla (literally, "May Allah and His safety be upon you!")—is binding and offers an absolute guarantee of safety. To the basic oath, another rhyming phrase is frequently added—w-il-xayin y-xuno 'alia ("and may Allah betray him who betrays this oath!"). Phrased differently, the oath would not be considered equally solemn and thus would not carry the same weight. Cf. the oath given in Tale 20, n. 5; Tale 42, n. 7.

The girl taking refuge in a tree and being rescued by a man on a horse is a frequent motif in the Palestinian folktale (in this collection it occurs also in Tales 2, 18, and 35). It is always associated with physical beauty and the arousal of desire. In Tale 35 as well as here, the daughters leave home without the express permission of the mother, and in Tale 18 Lolabe actually defies her mother in order to leave. In all the tales where the girl takes refuge in a tree, she is rescued by a king or an emir who entices her to come down by guaranteeing her safety with an oath, takes her home, and then marries her.

During the night Jbene painted herself black all over because she did not want anyone to know who she was. In the morning they thought she was a servant and sent her out to graze the herds of sheep and camels.^[8]

Every day after that, while roaming with the herds, Jbene would cry out:

"O birds that fly
Over mountains high!
Greet my mother and father
And say, 'Jbene's a shepherdess.
Sheep she grazes, and camels.
And rests in the shade of the vine.'"

Then she would cry, and the birds would cry, and the sheep and camels would stop grazing and cry.

The son of the emir noticed that the animals were going out to pasture and were coming home without having eaten. They were getting thinner day by day. "By Allah," he thought, "I must follow her and find out what the matter is."

He followed the herds until they reached their grazing ground. Jbene sat down and cried out:

"O birds that fly
Over mountains high!
Greet my mother and father
And say, 'Jbene's a shepherdess.
Sheep she grazes, and camels.
And rests in the shade of the vine.'"

Then she started crying, and the birds cried. The herds all stopped grazing and stood in their tracks and cried. Everything around her cried, and the son of the emir himself stood up and cried.

In the evening he said to her, "Come here! Confess the truth! Who are you, and what's your story?"

[8] This tale seems to be of Bedouin origin: the camel herding by the girls would so indicate, as would the fact that the person in authority is an emir (cf. Tale 10, n. 1).

Jbene paints herself black by covering herself with soot; see Tale 1, n. 11. This act, which transforms her from white to black (somewhat similar to the king's daughter wearing a sackcloth in Tale 14), may indicate a feeling of shame or guilt in relation to her sexuality. It also makes her look unappealing to the emir, which keeps him from making advances.

"My name's Jbene," she answered. "This and that and that happened to me." She then removed the soot from her face, and behold! what was she like but the moon?

The son of the emir made her his wife.^[9] They arranged festivities and beautiful nights.^[10] He married her, and she brought her mother and father to stay with her. I was there, and have just returned.

The bird of this tale has flown, and now for another one!^[11]

14.
Sackcloth

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

Once upon a time there was a king who had no children except an only daughter. One day his wife laid her head down and died, and he went searching for a new wife. They spoke of this woman and that, but none pleased him. No one seemed more beautiful in his eyes, so the story goes, than his own daughter and he had no wish to marry another. When he came into the house, she would call him "father," but he Would answer, "Don't call me 'father'! Call me 'cousin.'"^[1]

"But father, O worthy man!^[2] I'm your daughter!"

[9] 'Amlak 'aleha —literally, "He took possession of her."

[10] "They arranged festivities and beautiful nights" (qamu ha-l-ifrah w-il-layali l-imlah ). The wedding festivities are held at the household of the bridegroom (dar il-`aris ) for seven nights before the actual ceremony. Because most weddings are held in spring or summer, when evenings are most beautiful, communal singing and dancing take place outside, in the courtyard adjacent to the house. See Granqvist, Marriage II: 35-41 ("The Evenings of Joy").

[11] The closing formula (tar terha u-`alekum gerha ) is a variant of that used in Tale 3 (see n. 9). The imagery and symbolism of the bird in these tales, as we have seen, has varied significance. The bird can be a bride (Tale 11, n. 5), a lover (Tale 12, n. 1), a husband (Tale 10, n. 9), or the spirit of an innocent boy, as in Tale 9. Both the hero and heroine of Tale 18 are transformed into a bird.

Here, in Jbene's ditty, the birds are messengers, and the tale itself is compared to a bird in the closing formula—the most common type of closing formula in the corpus (cf., the closing formulas of Tales 3, 6, 12, 17, 27, 28, 30, and 31; for a less common variant, see Tale 33, n. 13).

[1] "Call me 'cousin.'" See the section on endogamy in the Introduction, "The Tales and the Culture."

[2] Ya bn il-balal —literally, "O legitimately begotten son!" The expression 'ibin halal is used generically to mean a good or benevolent man (or woman: bint halal ). Cf. Tale 5, n. 12; Tale 44, n. 15.

"It's no use," he insisted. "I've made up my mind."

One day he sent for the cadi and asked him, "A tree that I've cared for,' feeding and watering it—is it legally mine, or can someone else claim it?"^[3] "No one else can claim it," replied the cadi. "It's rightfully yours." No sooner had the cadi left than the father went out and brought his daughter jewelry and a wedding dress. He was preparing to take her for his wife.

The girl put on the new clothes and the gold, and sat in the house. Her father came home in the evening. When she realized that he was absolutely intent on taking her, she went to a sackcloth maker and said, "Take as much money as you want, but make me a tight-fitting sackcloth that will cover my whole body, except my nostrils, mouth, and eyes. And I want it ready by tomorrow morning."

"Fine," he said. "I'll do it."

[When it was finished] the girl went and brought it home. She put it in a shed in front of the house and locked the door. She then put on the bridal clothes and jewelry [again] and lounged about the house. Her father came home in the evening.

"Father!" she called to him.

"Don't call me 'father'!" he said. "Call me 'cousin.'"

"All right, cousin!" she replied, "But wait until I come back from the outhouse (All respect to the audience!)."^[4]

"But you might run away."

"No, I won't," she answered. "But just to make sure, tie a rope to my wrist, and every once in a while pull your end of it and you'll discover I'm still there."

There was a big stone in the lower part of the house,^[5] and on her way out she tied her end of the rope to it, together with the bracelets. She then went out to the shed, put on her tight sack, and, invoking the help of Allah, ventured into the night.

Meanwhile, the father tugged at the rope every few moments and,

[3] Although the father's initial premise that he owns his daughter is acceptable in the culture, his conclusion that he owns her sexually is totally abhorrent. His use of legalistic language to get around a taboo is interesting. For more on "cadi," an official of the court in the Islamic system of jurisprudence, see Tale 44, n. 5.

[4] The description of the king's house makes it sound as modest as that of a Palestinian fellah. Cf. Tale 3, n. 6.

For "(All respect to the audience!)"—hesa s-sam`in—see Tale 15, n. 8.

[5] For more on "the lower part of the house"—qa` il-bet —see Tale 26, n. 8.

hearing the tinkle of the bracelets, would say to himself, "She's still here." [He waited and waited] till the middle of the night, then he said, "By Allah, I've got no choice but to go check on her." When he found the rope tied to the stone, with the bracelets dangling from it, he prepared his horse, disguised himself, mounted, and went out to look for her.

She had already been gone awhile, and by the time he left the house she was well outside the city. He followed after her, searching. When he caught up with her, she saw and recognized him, and clung to the trunk of a tree. Not recognizing her, but thinking she was a man, he asked, "Didn't you see a girl with such and such features pass this way?"

"O uncle, Allah save you!" answered the maiden. "Please leave me to my misery. I can barely see in front of me."

He left her and went away. Seeing him take one path, she took another. [She kept on traveling,] sleeping here and waking up there, till she came to a city. Hunger driving her, she took shelter by the wall of a king's palace.

The king's slavegirl came out with a platter^[6] to dump leftover food. Sackcloth fell on the scraps and set to eating. When the slave saw her, she rushed back inside.

"O mistress!" she called out, "There's a weird sight outside—the strangest-looking man, and he's eating the leftovers."

"Go call him in, and let him come here!" commanded the mistress.

"Come in and see my mistress," said the slave. "They want to have a look at you."

"What's the situation with you, uncle?" they asked, when she came inside.^[7] "Are you human or jinn?"

"By Allah, uncle," she replied, "I'm human, and the choicest of the race. But Allah has created me the way I am."

"What skill do you have?" they asked. "What can you do?"

[6] The metal platter (sidir ) is available in various sizes, the most common being about one meter in diameter. It is used for communal eating (see n. 10, below). The fact that food is being thrown away at all, and in such quantities, immediately indicates the opulence of the palace.

[7] "Uncle" (ya `ammi —literally, "O my paternal uncle") is a respectful form of address to a male stranger. Cf. Tale 35, n. 5; see Footnote Index, s.v. "Forms of Address."

From this point on in the narrative the teller uses masculine pronouns to refer to Sackcloth when she is wearing her disguise and feminine pronouns when she is out of it. For the sake of consistency, and because it is more appropriate for English usage, we use the feminine pronoun throughout.

"By Allah, I don't have any skills in particular," she answered. "I can stay in the kitchen, peeling onions and passing things over when needed."

They put her to work in the kitchen, and soon everyone was saying, "Here comes Sackcloth! There goes Sackcloth!" How happy they were to have Sackcloth around, and she stayed in the kitchen under the protection of the cook.

One day there was a wedding in the city, and the king's household was invited. In the evening they were preparing to go have a look at the spectacle.

"Hey, Sackcloth!" they called out, "Do you want to come with us and have a look at the wedding?"

"No, Allah help me!" she exclaimed. "I can't go look at weddings or anything else like that. You go, and I wish you Godspeed, but I can't go."

The king's household and the slaves went to the wedding, and no one was left at home except Sackcloth. Waiting till they were well on their way, she took off her sackcloth and set out for the festivities, all made up and wearing the wedding dress she had brought with her. All the women were dancing in turn, and when her turn came she took the handkerchiefs and danced and danced till she had had her fill of dancing.^[8] She then dropped the handkerchiefs and left, and no one knew where she came from or where she went, Returning home, she put on her sackcloth, squatted alongside the walls of the palace, and went to sleep. When the slaves got back from the celebration, they started badgering her.

"What! Are you sleeping here?" they taunted. "May you never rise! If only you'd come to the wedding, you would've seen this girl who danced and danced, and then left without anybody knowing where she went."

That happened the first night, and the second night the same thing happened again. When the king's wife came home, she went to see her son.

"Dear son," she said, "if only we could get that girl, I'd ask for her

[8] The celebration of weddings has given rise to a rich native tradition in folk dance and song (see Stephan, Song of Songs). The men celebrate the wedding separately from the women, and each sex has not only its own set of wedding songs and dances but also its own style of performance. The women stand in a circle, singing and clapping while one of them dances in the middle, a colorful handkerchief in each hand. All eyes are on her, and she shows off her dancing ability, her beauty, and her clothes (cf. Tale 11, n. 4). After dancing awhile, she passes the handkerchiefs to another woman, who then takes her turn. Thus the image presented in the tale is of Sackcloth dancing in all her beauty, wearing the wedding garment her father had bought her. See Footnote Index, s.v. "Marriage Customs."

hand—the one who comes to the wedding and leaves without anybody knowing where she comes from or where she goes."^[9]

"Let me wear women's clothes, mother," he suggested, "and take me with you [to the women's side]. If anyone should ask, say to them, 'This is my sister's daughter. She's here visiting us, and I brought her with me to see the celebrations.'"

"Fine," she agreed.

Putting women's clothes on him, she took him with them. Sackcloth, meanwhile, gave them enough time to get there, then took off her coat of sackcloth and followed. She went in, danced till she had had her fill, then slipped away. No one recognized her, or knew where she came from or where she went. Returning home, she put on her sackcloth and went to sleep.

The following day the king's son said to the others, "You go to the wedding," and he hid outside the door of the house where the celebration was taking place. Sackcloth came again, went inside and danced, then pulled herself together and slipped away. No sooner had she left than he followed her, keeping a safe distance until she reached home. No sooner did she get there than she went in, put on her coat of sackcloth, and squatted by the palace wall and went to sleep.

"What!" he said to himself, "She dwells in my own house and pretends to be some kind of freak!" He did not say anything to anyone.

The next morning he said to the slaves who bring up his meals, "I don't want any of you to bring my food up today. I want Sackcloth to serve my dinner, and I want him to share it with me."^[10]

"O master, for the sake of Allah!" she protested, "I can't do it. I'm so disgusting, how could you want to have dinner with me?"

"You must bring up my dinner so we can eat together," he replied.

The servants prepared dinner, served it onto a platter, and gave it to Sackcloth. She carried it, pretending to limp, until she was halfway up the stairs, then she made as if her foot had slipped and dropped the whole platter.

"Please, master!" she pleaded, "Didn't I tell you I can't carry anything?"

[9] On the role of the mother in her son's wedding, see Tale 21, n. 13.

[10] Dinner, usually served around two in the afternoon, is the main meal of the day. On the relationship of food to courtship, see Tale 15, n. 3.

"You must keep bringing platters and dropping them," the son of the king insisted, "until you manage to come up here on your own."

With the second platter she came up to the landing at the top of the stairs, slipped, and dropped it.

"This isn't going to get you anywhere," said the son of the king. "Do not for one moment hope to be excused."

With the third platter she limped and limped, leaning here and there, until she reached the top and served him his dinner.

"Come sit here with me," said the prince, closing the door. "Let's eat this dinner together."

"Please, master!" she protested, "Just look at my condition. Surely it will disgust you."

"No. Do sit down! I would like to have dinner with you."

They sat down to eat together, and the prince pulled out a knife and reached for the coat of sackcloth.

"You must take this thing off!" he said. "How long have we been searching, wondering who the girl was that came to the wedding. And all this time you've been living under my own roof!"

He made her remove the sackcloth coat, and called his mother. They sent for the cadi, and wrote up their marriage contract.

"For forty days," the public crier announced, "no one is to eat or drink except at the house of the king.""

They held wedding celebrations, and gave her to him for a wife.^[12]

And this is my tale, I've told it; and in your hands I leave it.

15.
Šahin

Once there was a king (and there is no kingship except that which belongs to Allah, may He be praised and exalted!) and he had an only daughter. He had no other children, and he was proud of her. One day,

[11] For more on the number forty, see Tale to, n. 11.

[12] This tale is the Palestinian equivalent of Cinderella. "Sackcloth" is a literal translation of Abu l-Lababid, the second word being the plural of libbad (sackcloth); the first (literally, "father"), when used in combination with another noun, forms an attributive locution—e.g., abu šanab , "he with the mustache." Hence, Abu l-Lababid means "He of the Sackcloths."

as she was lounging about, the daughter of the vizier came to visit her. They sat together, feeling bored.

"We're sitting around here feeling bored," said the daughter of the vizier. "What do you say to going out and having a good time?"

"Yes," said the other.

Sending for the daughters of the ministers and dignitaries of state, the king's daughter gathered them all together, and they went into her father's orchard to take the air, each going her own way.

As the vizier's daughter was sauntering about, she stepped on an iron ring. Taking hold of it, she pulled, and behold! it opened the door to an underground hallway, and she descended into it. The other girls, meanwhile, were distracted, amusing themselves. Going into the hallway, the vizier's daughter came upon a young man with his sleeves rolled up. And what! there were deer, partridges, and rabbits in front of him, and he was busy plucking and skinning.^[1]

Before he was aware of it, she had already saluted him. "Peace to you!"

"And to you, peace!" he responded, taken aback. "What do you happen to be, sister, human or jinn?"

"Human," she answered, "and the choicest of the race. What are you doing here?"

"By Allah," he said, "we are forty young men, all brothers. Every day my brothers go out to hunt in the morning and come home toward evening. I stay home and prepare their food."

"That's fine," she chimed in. "You're forty young men, and we're forty young ladies. I'll be your wife, the king's daughter is for your eldest brother, and all the other girls are for all your other brothers." She matched the girls with the men.

Oh! How delighted he was to hear this!

"What's your name?"

"Šahin," he answered.

"Welcome, Šahin."^[2]

He went and fetched a chair, and set it in front of her. She sat next to

[1] Šahin's masculinity is brought into question fight from the start, because he is at home doing the cooking.

[2] The values that prevail above ground are reversed once the vizier's daughter crosses the threshold to the world under the ground. Thus, she welcomes Šahin ("ahlan wa-sahlan , Šahin!") even though she is in his house, and she assumes a masculine role for the rest of the tale.

him, and they started chatting. He roasted some meat, gave it to her, and she ate.^[3] She kept him busy until the food he was cooking was ready.

"Šahin," she said when the food was ready, "you don't happen to have some seeds and nuts in the house, do you?"^[4]

"Yes, by Allah, we do."

"Why don't you get us some. It'll help pass away the time."

In their house, the seeds and nuts were stored on a high shelf.^[5] He got up, brought a ladder, and climbed up to the shelf. Having filled his handkerchief with seeds and nuts, he was about to come down when she said, "Here, let me take it from you. Hand it over!" Taking the handkerchief from him, she pulled the ladder away and threw it to the ground, leaving him stranded on the shelf.

She then brought out large bowls, prepared a huge platter,^[6] piled all the food on it, and headed straight out of there, taking the food with her and closing the door of the tunnel behind her. Putting the food under a tree, she called to the girls, "Come eat, girls!"

"Eh! Where did this come from?" they asked, gathering around.

"Just eat and be quiet," she replied. "What more do you want? Just eat!"

The food was prepared for forty lads, and here were forty lasses. They set to and ate it all. "Go on along now!" commanded the vizier's daughter, "Each one back where she came from. Disperse!" She dispersed them, and they went their way. Waiting until they were all busy, she took the platter back, placing it where it was before and coming back out again. In time the girls all went home.

Now we go back. To whom? To Šahin. When his brothers came home in the evening, they could not find him.

"O Šahin," they called. "Šahin!"

And behold! he answered them from the shelf.

"Hey! What are you doing up there?" asked the eldest brother.

"By Allah, brother," Šahin answered, "I set up the ladder after the

[3] The phenomenon of feeding a loved one is common among the Palestinians. On love and courtship, see Introduction, "Food in Society and the Tales."

[4] On the eating of seeds and nuts to pass time, see Tale 3, n. 3.

[5] The sidde , an elevated compartment used for storage, is not a shelf as such but part of the actual house structure. See also Tale 26, n. 8.

[6] For the platter (sidir ), see Tale 14, n. 6.

food was ready and came to get some seeds and nuts for passing away the time. The ladder slipped, and I was stranded up here."

"Very well," they said, and set up the ladder for him. When he came down, the eldest brother said, "Now, go bring the food so we can have dinner." Gathering up the game they had hunted that day, they put it all in one place and sat down.

Šahin went to fetch the food from the kitchen, but he could not find a single bite.

"Brother," he said, coming back, "the cats must have eaten it."

"All right," said the eldest. "Come, prepare us whatever you can."

Taking the organs of the hunted animals,^[7] from this and that he made dinner and they ate. Then they laid their heads down and went to sleep.

The next morning they woke up and set out for the hunt. "Now brother," they mocked him, "be sure to let us go without dinner another evening. Let the cats eat it all!"

"No, brothers," he said. "Don't worry."

No sooner did they leave than he rolled up his sleeves and set to skinning and plucking the gazelles, rabbits, and partridges. On time, the vizier's daughter showed up. Having gone to the king's daughter and gathered all the other girls, she waited till they were amusing themselves with something and then dropped in on him.

"Salaam!"

"And to you, peace!" he answered. "Welcome to the one who took the food and left me stranded on the shelf, making me look ridiculous to my brothers!"

"What you say is true," she responded. "And yet I'm likely to do even more than that to the one I love."

"And as for me," he murmured, "your deeds are sweeter than honey."

Fetching a chair, he set it down for her, and then he brought some seeds and nuts. They sat down to entertain themselves, and she kept him amused until she realized the food was ready.

"Šahin," she said, "isn't there a bathroom in your house?"

"Yes, there is," he replied.

"I'm pressed, and must go to the bathroom. Where is it?"

"It's over there," he answered.

[7] Hearts, livers, and kidneys are all considered delicacies.

"Well, come and show it to me."

"This is it, here," he said, showing it to her.

She went in and, so the story goes, made as if she did not know how to use it.

"Come and show me how to use this thing," she called.

I don't know what else she said, but he came to show her, you might say, how to sit on the toilet. Taking hold of him, she pushed him inside like this, and he ended up with his head down and his feet up. She closed the door on him and left. Going into the kitchen, she served up the food onto a platter and headed out of there. She put the food under a tree and called to her friends, "Come eat!"

"And where did you get all this?"

"All you have to do is eat," she answered.

They ate and scattered, each going her way. And she stole away and returned the platter.

At the end of the day the brothers came home, and there was no sign of their brother. "Šahin, Šahin!" they called out. "O Šahin!" But no answer came. They searched the shelf, they searched here, and they searched there. But it was no use.

"You know," said the eldest, "I say there's something odd about Šahin's behavior. I suspect he has a girlfriend. Anyway, some of you go into the kitchen, find the food, and bring it so we can eat. I'm sure Šahin will show up any moment."

Going into the kitchen, they found nothing. "There's no food," they reported. "It's all gone! We're now sure that Šahin has a girlfriend, and he gives her all the food. Let's go ahead and fix whatever there is at hand so we can eat."

Having prepared a quick meal, they ate dinner and were content. They prepared for sleep, but one of them (All respect to the listeners!)^[8] was pressed and needed to relieve himself. He went to the bathroom, and lo! there was Šahin, upside down.

"Hey, brothers? he shouted. "Here's Šahin, and he's fallen into the toilet!"

[8] (heša s-sam`in )—literally, "Excepting the listeners!"—is an interjection frequently used to introduce subjects considered unpleasant or socially taboo, such as reference to feces (here; also Tale 14, n. 4), ritual impurity (Tale 18, n. 6), and shoes (Tale 44, n. 2). For a variant, see Tale 29, n. 2.

They rushed over and lifted him out. What a condition he was in! They gave him a bath.

"Tell me," said the eldest, "what's going on?"

"By Allah, brother," replied Šahin, "after I cooked dinner I went to relieve myself, and I slipped."

"Very well," returned the eldest. "But the food, where is it?"

"By Allah, as far as I know it's in the kitchen, but how should I know if the cats haven't eaten it?"

"Well, all right!" they said, and went back to sleep.

The next morning, as they were setting out, they mocked him again. "Why don't you leave us without dinner another night?"

"No, brothers!" he said. ["Don't worry."]

Pulling themselves together, they departed. Now, on time, the daughter of the vizier came to see the king's daughter, gathered the others, and they came down to the orchard and spread out. Waiting until they were all caught up with something, she slipped away to him, and listen, brothers! she found him at home.

"Salaam!"

"And to you, peace!" he retorted. "Welcome! On the shelf the first day, and you made away with the food; and the second day you threw me into the toilet and stole the food, blackening my face in front of my brothers!"

"As for me," she said, "I'll do even more than that to the one I love."

"And to me, it's sweeter than honey," he responded, bringing her a chair. She sat down, he brought seeds and nuts, and they passed away the time entertaining themselves. She kept chatting with him, until she knew the food was ready.

"Šahin," she said.

"Yes."

"Don't you have some drinks for us to enjoy ourselves? There's meat here, and seeds and nuts. We could eat and have something to drink."

"Yes," he replied, "we do."

"Why don't you bring some out, then?" she urged him.

Bringing a bottle, he set it in front of her. She poured drinks and handed them to him. "This one's to my health," she egged him on, "and this one's also for my sake," until he fell over, as if no one were there. She then went and took some sugar, put it on to boil, and made a preparation

for removing body hair.^[9] She used it on him to perfection, and, brother, she made him look like the most beautiful of girls. Bringing a woman's dress, she put it on him. Then, bringing a scarf, she wrapped it around his head and laid him down to sleep in bed. She powdered his face, wrapped the scarf well around his head, put the bed covers over him, and left. Then into the kitchen she went, loaded the food, and departed. The girls ate, and the platter was replaced.

When the brothers returned in the evening, they did not find Šahin at home.

"O Šahin! Šahin! Šahin!"

No answer. "Let's search the bathroom," they said among themselves. But they did not find him there. They searched the shelf, and still no sign of him.

"Didn't I tell you Šahin has a girlfriend?" the eldest declared. "I'd say Šahin has a girlfriend and goes out with her. Some of you, go check if the food's still there." They did, and found nothing.

Again they resorted to a quick meal of organ meat. When it was time to sleep, each went to his bed. In his bed, the eldest found our well-contented friend stretched out in it. Back to his brothers he ran. "I told you Šahin has a girlfriend, but you didn't believe me. Come take a look! Here's Šhin's bride! Come and see! Come arid see!"

He called his brothers, and they all came, clamoring, "Šahin's bride! Šahin's bride? Removing his scarf, they looked at him carefully. Eh! A man's features are hard to miss. They recognized him. "Eh! This is Ša-hin!" they shouted. Bringing water, they splashed his face till he woke up. Looking himself over, what did he find? They fetched a mirror. He looked at himself, and what a sight he was—all rouged, powdered, and beautified.

"And now," they asked him, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"By Allah, brother," answered Šahin, "listen and I'll tell you the truth. Every day, around noon, a girl with such and such features comes to see me. She says, 'We're forty young ladies. The king's daughter is for your eldest brother, I am yours, and all the other girls are for all your other brothers.' She's the one who's been doing these things to me every day."

[9] This preparation (`aqide ), used in the process of tihfif , or removal of undesired body hair, is made of melted sugar and lemon juice, which are boiled to form a thick and sticky substance.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is."

"Fine. All of you go to the hunt tomorrow," suggested the eldest, "and I'll stay behind with Šahin. I'll take care of her!"

Pulling out his sword (so the story goes), he sat waiting in readiness. By Allah, brothers, in due time she came. She had gathered the girls as usual, and they had come down to the orchard. Waiting until their attention was caught, she slipped away to him. Before he was even aware of her, she had already saluted him.

"Salaam!"

"And to you, peace!" he answered. "The first time on the shelf, and I said all right; the second time in the bathroom, and I said all right; but the third time you put makeup on me and turned me into a bride!"

"And yet I'm likely to do even more than that to the one I love."

No sooner had she said that than up rose the eldest brother and rushed over to her, his sword at the ready.

"Listen," she reasoned with him. "You are forty, and we are forty. The king's daughter is to be your wife, and I, Šahin's; and so and so among us is for so and so among you, and so on." She calmed him down.

"Is it true, what you're saying?" he asked.

"Of course it's true," she replied.

"And who can speak for these girls?"

"I can."

"You're the one who can speak for them?"

"Yes."

(Šahin, meanwhile, was listening, and since he was already experienced, he mused to himself that his brother had been taken in already.)

"Agreed," said the eldest brother. "Come over here and let me pay you the bridewealth for the forty girls. Where are we to meet you?"

"First pay me the bridewealth,"^[10] she answered, "and tomorrow, go and reserve a certain public bath for us at your expense. Stand guard at the gate, and as we go in you yourself can count us one by one—all forty of us. We'll go into the baths and bathe, and after we come out each of you will take his bride home by the hand."

[10] According to Islamic law (šari`a), the bridewealth (fed ; sometimes translated misleadingly as "bride-price"), although paid to the father, belongs to the bride; frequently, however, fathers do keep a portion of it. See Cohen, Border Villages : 87 n. l; also Granqvist, Marriage 1:111 n. 1, 119-155; Jaussen, Naplouse : 57-62.

"Just like that?" he wondered.

"Of course," she assured him.

He brought out a blanket, she spread it, and—count, count, count— he counted one hundred Ottoman gold coins for each girl. When he had finished counting out the money, she took it and went straight out. Calling her friends over, she said, "Sit here! Sit under this tree! Each of you open your hand and receive your bridewealth."

"Eh!" they protested, "You so and so! Did you ruin your reputation?"

"No one's to say anything," she responded. "Each of you will take her bridewealth without making a sound." Giving each of them her money, she said, "Come. Let's go home."

After she had left their place, Šahin said to his brother, "Brother, she tricked me and took only the food. But she tricked you and got away with our money."

"Who, me?" the brother declared, "Trick me? Tomorrow you'll see."

The next day the brothers stayed at home. They went and reserved the baths at their own expense, and the eldest stood watch at the door, waiting for the girls to arrive. Meanwhile, the vizier's daughter had gotten up the next day, gathered all the girls, the king's daughter among them, and, leading them in front of her, headed for the bath with them. And behold! there was our effendi guarding the door.^[11] As they were going in, he counted them one by one. Count, count, he counted them all—exactly forty.

Going into the baths, the girls bathed and enjoyed themselves. But after they had finished bathing and put on their clothes, she, the clever one,^[12] gave them this advice: "Each of you is to shit in the tub she has bathed in, and let's line the tubs up all in a row." Each of them shat in her tub, and they arranged them neatly in a row, all forty of them. Now the baths had another door, away from the entrance. "Follow me this way," urged the vizier's daughter, and they all hurried out.

The eldest brother waited an hour, two, three, then four, but the girls did not emerge. "Eh? he said, "They're taking a long time about it."

"Brother," said Šahin, "they're gone."

[11] Effendi , a word of Turkish origin, now arabicized and anglicized, was originally. an official title of respect equivalent to "Master" or "Sire"; it is now used in Arabic to mean only "gentleman."

[12] The word mal`une (past participle of la`ana , "to curse") is generally used to refer to someone who is clever and knows how to take care of herself (or himself, mal`un ).

"But listen!" he replied, "Where could she have gone? They all went inside the bathhouse together."

"All right," said Šahin, "let's go in and see."

Going into the bathhouse, brother, they found the owner inside.

"Where did the girls who came into the bathhouse go?"

"O uncle!" replied the owner, "They've been gone a long time."

"And how could they have left?" asked the eldest brother.

"They left by that door," he replied.

Now, Šahin, who was experienced, looked in the bathing place and saw the tubs all lined up.

"Brother!" he called out.

"Yes. What is it?"

"Come here and take a look," he answered. "Here are the forty! Take a good look! See how she had them arranged so neatly?"

Finally the brothers went back home, wondering to themselves, "And now, what are we going to do?"

"Leave them to me!" volunteered Šahin. "I'll take care of them."

The next day Šahin disguised himself as an old lady. Wearing an old woman's dress, he put a beaded rosary around his neck and headed for the city. The daughter of the vizier, meanwhile, had gathered the girls, and she was sitting with them in a room above the street. As he was coming from afar, she saw and recognized him. She winked to her friends, saying, "I'll go call him, and you chime in with, 'Here's our aunt! Welcome to our aunt!'" As soon as she saw him draw near, she opened the door and came out running. "Welcome, welcome, welcome to our aunty! Welcome, aunty!" And, taking him by the hand, she pulled him inside to where they were. "Welcome to our aunty!" they clamored, locking the door. "Welcome to our aunty!"

"Now, girls, take off your clothes," urged the vizier's daughter. "Take off your clothes. It's been a long time since we've had our clothes washed by our aunty's own hands. Let her wash our clothes!"

"By Allah, I'm tired," protested Šahin. "By Allah, I can't do it."

"By Allah, you must do it, aunty," they insisted. "It's been such a long time since we've had our clothes washed by our aunty's hands."

She made all forty girls take off their clothes, each of them leaving on only enough to cover her modesty, and she handed the clothes to him. He washed clothes till noon.

"Come girls," said the vizier's daughter. "By Allah, it's been such a

long time since our aunty has bathed us with her own hands. Let her bathe us!"

Each of them put on a wrap and sat down, and he went around bathing them in turn.^[13] By the time he had finished bathing them all, what a condition he was in! He was exhausted.

When he had finished with one, she would get up and go put on her clothes. The vizier's daughter would then wink at her and whisper that she should take the wrap she was wearing, fold it over, twist it, and tie a knot at one end so that it was like a whip. When all forty girls had finished bathing, the leader spoke out, "Eh, aunty! Hey, girls, she has just bathed us, and we must bathe her in return."

"No, niece!" he protested. "I don't need a bath! For the sake of ..."

"Impossible, aunty!" insisted the vizier's daughter. "By Allah, this can't be. Eh! You bathe and bathe all of us, and we don't even bathe you in return. Come, girls!"

At a wink from her, they set on him against his will. They were forty. What could he do? They took hold of him and removed his clothes, and lo and behold! he was a man. "Eh!" they exclaimed. "This isn't our aunty. It's a man! Have at him, girls!" And with their whips, each of them having braided her robe and tied knots in it, they put Šahin in the middle and descended on his naked body. Hit him from here, turn him around there, and beat him again on the other side! All the while he was jumping among them and shouting at the top of his voice. When she thought he had had enough, she winked at them to dear a path. As soon as he saw his way open, he opened the door and dashed out running, wearing only the skin the Lord had given him.

His brothers were at home, and before they were even aware of it, he showed up, naked. And what a condition he was in! Up they sprang, as if possessed. "Hey! What happened to you?" they asked. "Come! Come! What hit you?"

"Wait a minute," he answered. "Such and such happened to me."

"And now," they, asked among themselves, "what can we do?

"Now, by Allah, answered'Šahin, we have no recourse but for each of us to ask for the hand of his bride from her father.^[14] As for me, I'm

[13] The girls wear a small wrap (mzat ) for the sake of modesty.

[14] The ceremony of asking for the bride's hand, or tulbe , is a formal part of the wedding process and cannot be dispensed with even when both sets of parents have agreed to the match privately. It would, however, be most unusual for the bridegroom himself to make the formal request for his bride's hand, as in this tale; rather, this task is generally performed by the male elders of his extended family. Girls are given away in marriage by their fathers or grandfathers, in council with male elders of their families. Cf. Tale 20, n. 8; Tale 21, n. 13; and see Granqvist, Marriage 11:9- 11.

going to ask for her hand. But as soon as she arrives here, I'm going to kill her. No other punishment will do. I'll show her!"

They all agreed, each going to ask for his bride's hand from her father, and the fathers gave their consent.

Now, the daughter of the minister was something of a devil.^[15] She asked her father, if anyone should come asking for her hand, not to give his consent before letting her know. When Šahin came to propose, the father said, "Not until I consult with my daughter first." The father went to consult with his daughter, and she said, "All right, give your consent, but on condition that there be a waiting period of one month so that the bridegroom can have enough time to buy the wedding clothes and take care of all the other details."^[16]

After the asking for her hand was completed, the minister's daughter waited until her father had left the house. She then went and put on one of his suits, wrapped a scarf around the lower part of her face, and, taking a whip with her, headed for the carpenter's workshop.

"Carpenter!"

"Yes, Your Excellency?

"In a while I'll be sending you a concubine. You will observe her height and make a box to fit her. I want it ready by tomorrow. Otherwise, I'll have your head cut off. And don't hold her here for two hours!"

"No, sir. I won't."

She lashed him twice and left, going directly where? To the halvah maker's shop.

"Halvah maker!"

"Yes."

"I'm going to be sending you a concubine momentarily. You will observe her. See her shape and her height. You must make me a halvah doll that looks exactly like her. And don't you keep her here for a couple of hours or I'll shorten your life!"

"Your order, O minister," said the man, "will be obeyed."

[15] On the phrase "something of a devil" (mal `une ), see n. 12, above.

[16] The buying of the wedding clothes (kiswe ) for the bride (and frequently for some of her immediate relatives) is the responsibility of the bridegroom's family. See Granqvist, Marriage 11:40-46; Grant, People : 55-56.

She lashed him twice with the whip and left. She went and changed, putting on her ordinary clothes, then went by the carpenter's shop and stayed awhile. After that she went and stood by the halvah maker's shop for a while. Then she went straight home. Changing back into her father's suit, she took the whip with her and went to the carpenter.

"Carpenter!"

"Yes, my lord minister!"

"An ostrich shorten your life!" responded the girl.^[17] "I send you the concubine, and you hold her here for two hours!"

She descended on him with the whip, beating him all over.

"Please, sir!" he pleaded, "it was only because I wanted to make sure the box was an exact fit."

Leaving him alone, she headed for the halvah maker's. Him too, she whipped several times, and then she returned home.

The next day she sent for her slave and said to him, "Go bring the wooden box from the carpenter's shop to the halvah maker's. Put the halvah doll in it, lock it, and bring it to me here."

"Yes, I'll do it," he answered.

When the box was brought, she took it in and said to her mother, "Listen, mother! I'm going to leave this box with you in trust.^[18] When the time comes to take me out of the house and to load up and bring along my trousseau, you must have this box brought with the trousseau and placed in the same room where I will be."

"But, dear daughter!" protested the mother, "What will people say? The minister's daughter is bringing a wooden box with her trousseau! YOU will become a laughingstock." I don't know what else she said [but it was no use].

"This is not your concern," insisted the daughter. "That's how I want it."

When the [bridegroom's family] came to take the bride [out of her father's house], she was made ready, and the wooden box was brought along with her trousseau.^[19] They took the wooden box and, as she had

[17] "An ostrich shorten your life!" This expression is particularly appropriate for the occasion because of the phonetic resemblance between the Arabic words for "ostrich" (na "-ame ) and "yes" (na`am ).

[18] In cultural practice, the trust (`amane ) is sacred.' It is said, "He who has trusted you, don't betray him, even if you are a betrayer" (min `ammanak la txuno, law kunt xayin ).

[19] The fetching of the bride (tal`it il-`arus ) by the groom's family is a formal part of the Palestinian wedding. For details on how the bride is made ready, see Granqvist, Marriage 11:51-55; cf. also Tale 11. For a discussion of the parting songs sung to the bride upon her leaving her father's house, see afterword to Group I, "Siblings"; and for examples, see Sirhan, Mawsu`at V:85.

told them, placed it m the same room where she was to be. As soon as she came into the room and the box was brought in, she threw out all the women. "Go away!" she said.^[20] "Each of you must go home now."

After she had made everyone leave, she locked the door. Then, dear ones, she took the doll out of the box. Taking off her clothes, she put them on the doll, and she placed her gold around its neck. She then set the doll in her own place on the bridal seat,^[21] tied a string around its neck, and went and hid under the bed, having first unlocked the door.

Her husband, meanwhile, was taking his time. He stayed away an hour or two before he came in. What kind of mood do you think he was in when he arrived? He was in a foul humor, his sword in hand, ready to kill her, as if he did not want. to marry her in the first place. As soon as he passed over the doorstep, he looked in and saw her on the bridal seat.

"Yes, yes!" he reproached her. "The first time you abandoned me on the shelf and took the food, I said to myself it was all right. The second time you threw me into the toilet and took the food, and I said all right. The third time you removed my body hair and made me look like a bride, taking the food with you, and even then I said to myself it was all right. After all that, you still weren't satisfied. You tricked us all and took the bridewealth for the forty girls, leaving each of us a turd in the washtub."

Meanwhile, as he finished each accusation, she would pull the string and nod the doll's head.

"As if all that weren't enough for you," he went on, "you had to top it all with your aunty act. 'Welcome, welcome, aunty! It's been a long time since we've seen our aunty. It's been such a long time since aunty has washed our clothes!' And you kept me washing clothes all day. And after all that, you insisted, 'We must bathe aunty.' By Allah, I'm going to burn the hearts of all your paternal and maternal aunties!"

Seeing her nod her head in agreement, he yelled, "You mean you're not afraid? And you're not going to apologize?" Taking hold of his sword,

[20] For the bride to throw the women out of her bridal chamber would be considered immodest behavior and is therefore unacceptable. For the bridegroom to do so, however, would not be considered bad behavior, because people understand that he has a duty to fulfill.

[21] For the bridal seat (marinade ), see Tale 11, n. 4.

he struck her a blow that made her head roll.^[22] A piece of halvah (If the teller is not lying!) flew into his mouth. Turning it around in his mouth, he found it sweet.

"Alas, cousin!" he cried out. "If in death you're so sweet, what would it have been like if you were still alive?"

As soon as she heard this, she jumped up from under the bed and rushed over to him, hugging him from behind.

"O cousin! Here I am!" she exclaimed. "I'm alive!"

They consummated their marriage, and lived together happily.

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

Afterword

In general, the five tales in this group portray the early stirrings of sexuality, when they are still subjective feelings and before formal arrangements for marriage have been made. Except for "Jbene," the individuals in the tales, whether male or female, handle these feelings in a way that communicates them to those for whom they are intended. In "The Little Bird," the theme of sexual awakening is manifested in the bird's preparation for marriage. By collecting her trousseau, and by beautifying and putting herself on display, she arouses the interest of the sultan's son. In "Jummez Bin Yazur, Chief of the Birds," the youngest daughter's request is ambiguous enough that the father can acquiesce without feelings

[22] The bridegroom's anger here and his desire to strike his wife represent an exaggeration of a custom that prevailed in some parts of the country, particularly the north, where this tale was collected. Just before the consummation of the marriage (daxle —literally, "entry") the male relatives of the bridegroom slap him a few times. The purpose of this beating is to arouse his anger so that he can assert his manhood, in case he has been too preoccupied to be any good for the bride (min xof ma yinfa`š il-`anus ). His anger is further aroused by the women's singing and dancing around the bride at the jalwe , or "unveiling" (see Tale 35, n. 17). Before he arrives to unveil the bride, the women spread millet on the floor; he slips, and they have a good laugh at his expense. His anger thus thoroughly aroused, the groom gets up and beats his wife with a stick, after which she is expected to rise and kiss his hand. In other parts of the country (such as Artas in the south), however, the groom asserts his authority symbolically by touching the point of his sword to his bride's nose and forehead and then to each cheek; he then removes the veil with the tip of his sword. See Granqvist, Marriage 11:115; Sirhan, Mawsu`at V:87. As Granqvist notes (Marriage 1:10), however, customs vary from village to village, and it would be dangerous to generalize.

of shame. The girl is sending the message of her readiness, which Jummez is able to decipher. In "Sackcloth," the sexual awareness begins even before the girl leaves home, producing feelings of confusion, shame, and guilt, especially since she seems to arouse a most unnatural passion in her father. Hence her desire to cover her body completely, so as to appear to be not only of the opposite sex but also a horrible freak whom no one would want to touch. Only later, when she has had more experience and feels secure at the palace of the king's son, is she able to accept her sexuality. Her dancing in public in the wedding dress her father had brought her is a declaration of her new awareness, her readiness to accept a mate. In "Šahin," the girl is the more mature of the two protagonists, and she awakens Šahin to his manhood. The emotional upheavals arising out of the first stirrings of sexuality are here shown not to be limited to young women: young men feel them also. Šahin must work through his frustrations and his confusion to assume the responsibility of his manhood.

In "Jbene," in contrast, the girl attempts to hide or deny her sexuality. Her behavior differs from the straightforward courtship behavior shown in the other tales in this group. She is more concerned with the welfare of her family than with her own; thus, her feminine, "nurturing," character emerges in relation to them, not to the husband-to-be, even though they were not willing to accept the responsibility that might have prevented her abduction. The tale shows the poignancy of separation, the isolation of the new bride. Jbene overcomes this isolation through acceptance of her mate, which in turn leads to reunion with her family. In "Jbene," sexual identity must be drawn forth from a reluctant woman, and her sorrow over the loss of her home security overcome.

The narrative devices used in these tales reinforce the theme of sexual awakening and the attendant personality changes. While the use of disguise is common in folktales, it seems to be particularly appropriate here. In the last three tales in the group, the heroines or heroes put on some form of disguise in an effort to mask their confusion while in transition to the new identity. The first two tales share the metaphorical disguise of the bird symbol, thus conveying a culturally complex meaning that would be impossible to communicate directly. Jbene's disguise of staining her body black literalizes the metaphor of ruining one's reputation; it serves as an appropriate symbol of her ambivalence and confusion, and of the shame or dishonor she might feel concerning her sexuality. She stains her body black not only to remain anonymous but also to protect her reputa-

tion and ward off possible advances from the son of the emir. Her longing for her parents is expressed in her ditty, which at the same time is instrumental in attracting the attention she is trying to avoid. Similarly with Sackcloth, if merely being a woman is sufficient to arouse unnatural passions, then her disguise transforms her into a monster of the opposite sex. The son of the king signals his readiness for marriage by his willingness to disguise himself as a woman, which, as can be seen from "Šahin," is a humiliating thing to do, especially if the disguise were to be discovered. Whereas in "Šahin" the feminine disguise is at first thrust on the hero against his will, he later assumes it voluntarily; here, then, the use of disguise helps to convey the role reversal on which the tale is based.

As a group, these tales also convey something of the power that women possess. through their sexuality. The first half of "The Little Bird" presents us with the archetypal image of a girl ready for marriage who, having made all the preparations, sends out her signals to attract the male. She appears to be passive and receptive, prey to be hunted. On the other side we have the archetypal male, an authority figure with symbolic gun in hand, ready to assert his will. Yet he could not be more wrong than to assume that he can have the upper hand, either because he is a male or because of his social position, or both. In "Jummez Bin Yazur," the lover risks his life by admitting his secret to his sweetheart. And in "Sackcloth," as we have noted, the king's son risks his masculinity by wearing women's clothes. Finally, in "Šahin," it seems that no matter what the vizier's daughter does to the hero, his attraction to her only increases. The images here are reversed: she is the hunter and he the hunted.

In the Introduction we discussed the potential for conflict between husband and wife, especially when they are not first cousins. In this group of tales we can glimpse the source of this conflict: the power residing in women's sexuality on the one hand and the superior social position accorded males on the other. In this respect the first and last tales in the group ("The Little Bird" and "Šahin") differ markedly from the others ("Jummez Bin Yazur," "Jbene," and "Sackcloth"), where the female is presented as having no concern but to be taken for a mate by the male. In "Šahin" and "The Little Bird," however, the roles themselves are put. to the test. Whereas the male, as represented by the son of the sultan, with his hunting tools and pretensions, receives his power from the role endowed on him by society, the power of the female is from within, from her own being. It is the source not only of her procreative power, but also

of her creativity, her playfulness. For only the female is presented as playful, her playfulness in the courtship ritual being an outward expression of the power of her sexuality.

Yet this playfulness has serious overtones, because in the end the private passion must be channeled into public behavior that is in harmony with the norms of society. As Šahin says, "We have no recourse but for each of us to ask for the hand of his bride from. her father." In other words, legal and public sanction must be sought to validate private desire; otherwise, the whole process of courtship will remain at the level of a game. "The Little Bird" teaches us that underneath the charming acquiescence of Jbene and Sackcloth lies a power that no man can master. And "Šahin" teaches us that behind the apparent role of male domination sanctioned by society there may lie another reality altogether.

THE QUEST FOR THE SPOUSE

16.
The Brave Lad

TELLER: Allah has spoken, and His word is a blessing!
AUDIENCE: Blessings abound, Allah willing!^[1]

There was once the king of a city who had a very beautiful daughter. He announced that he would give her hand to anyone who could kill the ghoul. He also let it be known that the ghoul would be easy to kill: all one had to do was remove three hairs from his head. If they were removed, the ghoul would die. The ghoul had been giving the people a hard time, eating them and their animals, and they wanted to be rid of him. He lived in a cave in the forest, not far from the city.

A lad in love with the girl but too poor to become the king's son-in-law^[2] one day decided to try his fortune against the ghoul, even though he could not be sure if he would come back alive or not. No one except him dared agree to the king's condition.

The lad went to the ghoul's cave while it was still daylight, but did not find him at home. He was roaming about, looking for someone to eat. In the cave the youth found the ghoul's wife, who was a girl from their city. The ghoul had fallen in love with her and had abducted her. The moment she saw the young man, the girl gave him some advice. "You'd better go back where you came from," she said. "When the ghoul comes home in the evening, he'll make a feast of you."

[1] The unusual opening formula, —qal alla w-qal xer —xer inšalla (literally, "Allah has spoken, and He spoke blessings"; "Blessings, God willing!"), carries profound significance: first, it glorifies the power of speech by attributing it to a divine source; second, it equates material blessings (xer ) with the Logos, the divine word; and third, it demonstrates the importance of folktales to the community, since the formula implies that telling them is a blessing. See also Tale 6, n. 1.

[2] Perhaps he could not afford the girl's fed (bridewealth, for which see Tale 15, n. 10). Furthermore, he could not possibly have been able to afford the costs of the wedding, which are borne entirely by the bridegroom's family, since for a king's daughter the festivities would have to be lavish. A Palestinian proverb says, "He who has money can have the king's daughter for his bride" (illi `indo fluso, bint is-sultan `aruso ). See also Tale 15, n. 16.

But he refused to listen and stayed with her, telling her his story. The girl agreed to help him because she hated the ghoul, who had abducted her when she was engaged to her first cousin, whom she loved and who loved her. By helping the lad, perhaps she could get rid of the ghoul and go back to her cousin.

When the ghoul came home, he was growling from hunger. He had not been able to find anyone to eat. The girl hid the young man in the wardrobe.^[3]

"I smell a human being," roared the ghoul as he came in.

"Nonsense!" replied the girl. "You brought that smell with you."^[4]

The ghoul then ate whatever he could find and went to sleep. She lay down to sleep next to him. As soon as he was fast asleep, she plucked one of the hairs from his head.

"What's going on?" the ghoul grumbled, waking up.

"I dreamt you were drowning in the sea," she answered. "And by the time I got to you, your whole body was under water. Nothing was above except your head. So I pulled you by your hair to save you from drowning, but you woke up and woke me up, and it turns out I really was pulling your hair."

Believing her, the ghoul closed his eyes again, and no sooner was he fast asleep than she plucked another hair from his head. He woke, jumping up like a madman. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"I was dreaming," she lied, "that you and I were traveling together on a boat and I fell overboard. If I hadn't taken hold of your hair, I would certainly have drowned. And when you shouted at me, I woke up. It turns out I really was taking hold of your hair."

The ghoul, out of his stupidity, believed her again.^[5] When he was

[3] Older Palestinian houses, whose walls could be over one meter thick, had recesses in the walls for storing various things (see Tale 3, n. 6). With the introduction of cement, however, the walls were considerably reduced in thickness, and, because houses are constructed without closets, wooden wardrobes were introduced for storing clothing and household materials such as linens and towels.

[4] Il-'ins fik u-fi dyalak is a formulaic expression meaning literally, "The human [smell] is in you and in your trail."

[5] This is the only explicit reference to ghoulish stupidity in the tales. Ghouls can also be clever, as we shall see in Tales 19 (see n. 5), 29, and 33, though their proverbial cunning is not equal to that of women, as is evident here. A popular proverb says, "Women's tricks have defeated the tricks of the ghouls" (hiyal in-niswan galabu hiyal il-gilan ).

Ghouls are said to be fond of eating human flesh, especially that of children (cf. Tale 6, n. 12), and of having humans for mates. A proverb says, "The ghoul has devoured the whole world, except his wife" (il-gul'akal kull id-dinya'illa marato ). See afterword to Group l, "The Quest for the Spouse." For further reference to the ghoul figure, see Footnote Index, s.v. "Ghouls and Jinn."

For hair as a source of strength, cf. Tale 22. On the magical power of hair, see Leach, "Magical Hair"; on hair in relation to summoning the jinn, see Westermarck, Ritual 1:353.

again sound asleep, she plucked the third hair from his head, and he died, thus sparing her and the people of the city his evil.

In the morning the girl and the lad headed back to the city, taking with them whatever they could carry from the cave, and not forgetting the three hairs. The king, the princess, and the people of the city received them joyfully when they heard about what had happened. As for the girl, they celebrated her wedding to her cousin. And as for the princess, they celebrated her marriage to the lad, arranging festivities and beautiful nights.

We ate from their feast, left them, and came home.

17.
Gazelle^[1]

TELLER: [Not] until you testify that God is One!
AUDIENCE: There is no god but God.

Once upon a time there were three brothers.^[2] Their father happened to be a king, and he said to them, "Listen! I'm about to die, and you have three sisters. He who comes to ask for the hand of any of them—don't even ask where he's from. Just give her to him in marriage."^[3]

After the king died, the first suitor came to ask for the hand of one of the sisters, and he gave her to him.^[4] The second also he married off, and

[1] The gazelle (gazale ) is frequently used as a metaphor for beauty in folk speech and popular culture, especially in songs. Gazale is not used as a girl's name. Cf. Tale 2, n. 1.

[2] Min han la-han illa ha-t-talit ixwe —literally, "From here to here, lo! these three brothers"; an unusual opening sentence that effectively makes the brothers appear suddenly out of nowhere.

[3] The daughters' marriage here is especially urgent because the father is dying. If the brothers were to marry and become preoccupied with their own families, their sisters would be left in a vulnerable situation vis-à-vis the brothers' wives, who might not tolerate the sisters' presence. Under these circumstances, marriage to any husband is preferable to staying at home under the yoke of gratitude to the daughters of strangers (tiht ijmilit banat in-nas )—that is, their brothers' wives.

[4] "He" here refers to the eldest brother, as the text makes dear two sentences on. See next note.

the third. Now the eldest brother, whose name was Hasan,^[5] thought to himself, "Here I've married off the girls, and I have no idea where they ended up."

"Let's go," he said to his brothers. "We want to go hunting."

They went hunting, you might say, to the outskirts of our town here. And lo! a gazelle sprang among them. This one said, "She's my prey!" and that one said, "She's mine!" [Finally] they said, "Not for me, or for you. Let's make a ring around her, and he whose horse she passes near— she's his, and he becomes her hunter."

Now she was not really a gazelle. She was from the jinn (In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate!).^[6] She gazed at them, and, since a good person always stands out among his folk, she picked one of the brothers and passed right under his horse.

"All fight, brothers," Hasan announced. "You must go back now. She's my quarry, and I'm going to chase her."

He gave chase, and as he approached her, the gazelle would run away from him. She kept this up [until they stood] below his oldest sister's town.^[7] Once he arrived in the town, he had no idea which way the gazelle had turned. Where was he to go? After tying his horse, he looked around, and behold! there was the servantgirl of his oldest sister. "Mistress, mistress!" she called out to his sister. "That man tying his horse could almost be you. Perhaps you come from the same blood."

"Where is anybody going to come from to see me?" asked the mistress. "In any case, tell him to please come in!"^[8]

When she asked him to come in, the brother could not believe his ears. He had not known where to find lodging. On entering, he discovered his

[5] For "Hasan," see Tale 5, n. 4. The fact that Hasan is the eldest brother is unusual; see afterword to Group 1, "Siblings."

[6] This formula is pronounced to counteract the evil influence of the jinn, who are spirits and may be found anywhere. Because jinn are fond of possessing human beings, it is best to pronounce this formula frequently. See Tale 22, n. 8; cf. Tale 29, n. 6. On the use of distancing devices in the tales, see Introduction, "The Tales"; cf. Tale 5, n. 8.

[7] In the hilly regions of Palestine, such as the area where this tale was collected (in Turmus`ayya, district of Ramallah), villages are always built on hilltops, thereby commanding an unobstructed view in all directions. See Tale 5, n. 14.

[8] Qulilo yitfaddal —literally, "Tell him to honor us with his presence." The verb tfaddal is used throughout Palestine and other parts of the Arab world when inviting a guest into one's house. Its root, fadula , carries a whole complex of meanings, including "to have the kindness to do something," "to deign," "to condescend," and "to be graciously disposed." Cf. Tale 42, n. 15; Tale 44, n. 12.

own sister. How happy they were! They celebrated with singing and dancing.^[9]

"And what brought you this way, brother?" she asked.

"Gazelle brought me," he answered.

"Good," she said. "Now relax."

By Allah, in a little while her husband showed up.

"Welcome, welcome to our brother-in-law!"^[10] he saluted him. "And what brings you to this part of the world?"

They held each other in friendly embrace, kissing each other on the cheeks. The host ordered dinner for his guest.

"By Allah," replied the brother. "Gazelle brought me."

"By Allah, I'm more than a match for a hundred hosts," returned the brother-in-law. "But I haven't been able to overcome Gazelle." (He meant hosts of jinn—In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate!)

"By Allah, this is my lot," the brother replied.

In the morning he mounted his horse and moved on. Gazelle appeared and did as she had done before, slowing down, then running away as soon as he came near, until she came below the palace of the second sister. As the other sister had asked, so did this one: "Brother, what has brought you here?"

"Gazelle brought me, sister," he answered.

"Welcome, welcome!"

They had dinner and amused themselves, enjoying each other's company.

"I can overcome two hundred hosts," announced the brother-in-law, "but I'm no match for Gazelle."

The next day he again mounted his horse and moved on, with Gazelle jumping here and there, until she reached the town where his youngest sister lived and his third brother-in-law was. He said, "I have more power than three hundred hosts, but I can't overcome Gazelle."

That's right. Now, each of his brothers-in-law had given him a hair, saying, "If you're ever in a tight spot, just rub this hair, and before you know it we'll be there."

On the fourth day she again jumped here and there until she reached her own city. When they arrived there, he did not know which way she

[9] Qamu ha-l-ifrah —literally, "They arranged festivities." See Tale 13, n. 10.

[10] "Welcome, welcome!" (ahlan wa-sahlan ) is an extremely common expression in the Arab world.

had turned. Stopping to visit an old woman in a hut, he said, "Here's the price of my dinner! Take it and go bring me dinner and some feed for my horse. And tonight, mother, I'd like to stay here with you."^[11]

"One hundred welcomes!" replied the old woman.

They sat around chatting, and she asked him, "What brought you here, son?"

"Gazelle brought me," he answered.

"This Gazelle," she advised, "has suitors all over the world. See her castle? It's that one over there. And every time one of them comes asking for her hand, her father says, 'He who can move this mountain away from the front of my house can have her hand. And he who can't move it—I'll have his head.' And every morning you find him cutting off their heads."

"By Allah," he said, "it's all destiny and fate. I'm going to ask for her hand."

He came and asked this person and that, and they all said, "Don't go! You're a nice young man, and it would be such a loss if he were to cut off. your head."

"It's no use," he replied.

Remembering the hairs his brothers-in-law had given him, he rubbed all three of them, and behold! six hundred hosts of jinn appeared. Gazelle, too, she loved him and came to his aid. He started on the mountain, and before day had risen, look! it was (In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate!) as if there was no mountain there at all.

When the sun rose, it shone on her father's bed. "Alas!" he cried out. "He's going to take her, damn his parents!"

Now, there was one among the jinn who wanted Gazelle, but she did not want him because she preferred Clever Hasan. He and Gazelle always fought, but now that the mountain was gone, she overcame him. Taking hold of him, she hung him up by his hair.

She lived a month or two with Clever Hasan in the palace. And what a palace it was! Fit for a king! As she was used to roving, she said to him, "I'm going to roam for a while, and you look after yourself. This room you can open, and that room also. I'm going to take the air for a couple of weeks, and will be back."

[11] The hero here assumes enough familiarity with the old woman to ask her to bring his dinner without a show of politeness, but when he suggests staying the night, he quickly interjects the word mother , thereby eliminating all untoward inferences. See Tale 8, n. 5.

Opening one room, he found treasure. And here were weapons. And here . . . [He opened them all] except a certain room. "This room," he thought to himself, "why did she give me its key and say, 'Don't open it!'? What's she hiding from me? By Allah, I've got to open it."

He opened it and found a young man hanging by his hair.

"Please!" he called out. "I beg you! Release me! I put myself at your mercy!"^[12]

The young man begged so much that Hasan took pity on him and released him, and no sooner had he done so than the mountain returned as it had been. He looked around, and there was Gazelle! Realizing what had happened, she came running.

"Why do you give me so much trouble?" she scolded him. "May Allah give you as much trouble in return! Just like that, you released him! If I hadn't defeated him, do you think the mountain could've been moved, or anything else have happened for that matter?"^[13]

Ashamed, he dragged himself below, while she went back up to deal with the man who had been bickering with her for so long.

"Who knows," he bragged, "but that this time I'll defeat you and take away your soul."

"And this time," she snapped back, "who knows but that I'll overpower you and finish you off. This time, I won't be satisfied just to let you dangle."

"What!" he mocked. "Go away! My soul is lodged in the kneebone of a certain tiger who lives in such and such a country. So, how are you to get hold of it?"

Now, her husband heard this, and he immediately set out for the country where that tiger was to be found. On his way he came upon three men arguing over their inheritance from their father. They were fighting over three things: a club giving anyone able to lift it power over

[12] The expression daxilak (I beg you) is generally heard in the cities and villages and is a less urgent request than tanib `alek (I put myself at your mercy), which is more common among the Bedouins. Daxilak , from the root daxala , "to enter," means literally, "I have come unto you" or "I have entered your house [as a supplicant]." Tanib comes from tunub (tent rope) and refers to the custom of touching the tent ropes, especially of a chieftain, when seeking another's help. The laws of hospitality and honor among the Arabs are such that the person whose help is being sought is duty bound to honor the request if it is within his power. See Granqvist, Marriage 11:322n. 1.

[13] There is an unresolved contradiction in the narrative, because earlier the teller said Gazelle had defeated her enemy after the mountain was moved.

forty men, a magic carpet, and a cap of invisibility. Haggling over these things, one of them said, "No! I won't take this. It won't be fair." And another said, "No! I won't take that. I'll be the loser."

"What are you arguing about?" he asked.

"We're arguing about which of these three things was intended for whom. You judge for us."

"Gladly," he answered. "I'll help you decide."

Taking a stick, he stood at the top of a hill and said, "I'm going to throw this stick down into the wadi. He who can bring it back gets all three things."

"By Allah," they agreed, "this is fine."

Lifting up the stick, he hurled it away right to the bottom of the wadi. The three brothers went running after it. Putting on the cap of invisibility, he took hold of the dub, mounted the magic carpet, and said, "Don't land except in the country where the tiger is to be found."

When he landed in that town, he came upon an old woman and her daughter. Introducing himself, he said, "Old lady, I'd like to stay with you."

"Welcome, welcome!" she responded.

She offered him some yogurt, and, to his surprise, it was reddish in color.

"Old lady," he asked, "why is this yogurt red like that?"

"Look here, son!" she answered. "Our town is surrounded. In this direction there's a giant scorpion, in that one a snake, in the other one a viper, and over there is a tiger. The sheep can't roam freely in any direction, and so they eat the dirt between the houses."^[14]

"All fight," he announced, "tomorrow morning I'm going to take your sheep grazing in the direction of the viper."

"But, dear son!" she protested. "The viper will bite you."

"No," he insisted. "I'm going to graze them."

Leading the sheep in the morning, he went roaming with them, and what did he find but that the grass was this high. The sheep fed on the tender tips of the grass. The viper came out, and lo! she had seven heads.

"Who's been grazing in my pasture?" she asked.

"A stranger who doesn't know any better," he answered.

[14] In the region where the tale was collected (see n. 7, above), the soil is reddish in color.

"All fight," she said. "You're a stranger who doesn't know better. Today, you came. Tomorrow, you'd better stay away."

He let the sheep graze till evening, then went home and stayed with the old woman. In the morning he went back.

"Who's been grazing in my pasture?"

"A stranger who doesn't know any better."

"All right. Today, you came; another day, stay away."

"Every day you claim you're a stranger who doesn't know better," she said to him on the third day. "I don't know [what you're up to]. Come down to the battlefield!"

He came down and cut off all her heads. People said, "The son of the old woman has killed the viper. He has opened such and such a direction!" In our town you might say he opened up Wadi l-'En. The whole town took their sheep grazing there.

The next day he said, "I want to go in the direction of the snake."

"You won't be able to kill this one, dear son," she protested.

"No," he answered, "I want to go."

As he had done to the viper, he did to the snake. The townspeople proclaimed, "The son of the old lady has opened up the second direction." [In our town] you might say it was the direction of Ez-Zawye. The same thing he did with the scorpion and opened up that direction.

"I want to go in the direction of the tiger," announced Hasan the next day.

"No, son," said the old woman. "You opened up three directions, that's enough."

"No," he answered, "I want to go."

He pulled himself together and went. The tiger showed up and asked, "Who's grazing in my pasture?"

"A stranger who doesn't know any better."

"With me, there's no such thing as a stranger," responded the tiger. "Here, you must come down to the battlefield."

"You come down," Hasan challenged him.

A blow from this one and a blow from that one, and from here a blow and from there a blow. They kept it up till evening, and neither of them was able to win. The first day, the second, and the third, neither of them could win. The boy could not defeat the tiger, nor the tiger the boy.

On the fourth day, the tiger boasted, "Who knows but that I'll get the better of you and eat carrion over your belly."

"And who knows but that I will get the better of you," replied the other. "I'll eat a meal of flat bread rubbed with ghee and sugar,^[15] drink a flask of wine, and kiss my delicate young lady—all on a mat spread on your belly."

Now, the old woman was eating her heart out over him. She said to her daughter, "Daughter, stick your head over the wall and see if your brother's getting the better of the tiger, or if the tiger's got your brother down."

Allah was on his side.^[16] The girl peeked out, and listen! he was mouthing his boast. She rushed back in and said to her mother, "Yee! My brother is saying such and such and such."

"Yee, daughter!" said the mother. "Let's set to it."

So they quickly baked some fiat bread and rubbed it with ghee and sugar, and the girl bundled it up and brought it to her brother, along with a flask of water and a straw mat. And by Allah, the moment the girl showed up, the lad (with Allah's help) threw the tiger to the ground. Taking the mat, he spread it on the tiger's belly, ate the sugared bread, drank the flask of water, and kissed the young lady. He cracked the tiger's knee open, and behold! there was the other man's soul in a snuffbox this small. Reaching for it, he took and put it in his pocket and then came back—only to find the neighbors (Far be it from you!) wailing and lamenting.

"Well, mother," he asked, "I've opened four directions. So why are the neighbors wailing?"

· "You should know, son," she answered. "There's a demon guarding the spring, and every year around this time he must have a bride. This year it's our neighbors' turn. They will dress her up and leave her in a room, and they don't know where the demon of the spring will take her."

"I was ready to leave for home," he said, "but now I've changed my mind."

In the morning they clothed the girl in a bridal dress and put her in the room so that the guardian of the spring could come take her and release the water for them and their animals to drink. By Allah, he did not take long to show up.

"Who's this sitting with my bride?" he roared.

[15] "Flat bread rubbed with ghee and sugar"—mafrukiyye .

[16] 'Alla biddo y-jibha—literally, "Allah wanted to bring it [i.e., his luck]."

"By Allah, it's only me," answered the youth. "Stretch out your neck and take her!"

When the demon stretched out his neck, the lad cut off his head, and water gushed from the spring. And how pleased were the townspeople! They were overjoyed. Some of them said, "My sister's yours [for a bride]!" Others said, "My daughter's yours!"^[17] While others were saying, "You have so much and so much money coming!"

"No! No!" he announced. "I'm not staying. Not for an inheritance, or for money!"

By Allah, he said, "Magic carpet, don't bring me down except [at the house] of such and such a family!" And when the carpet landed, he thought to himself, "By Allah, I'm going to see what's in this snuff box."^[18] (You know that an unfortunate one remains so always.)^[19] Taking hold of the snuff box, he struck it to open it, but it flew down into a well. "And what in the world's going to bring it back?" he thought. Then, remembering the hairs his brothers-in-law had given him, he rubbed them, and lo! some rams appeared. They threw themselves down into the water and kept stirring it until they recovered the box. After they recovered it, they fought [over it]. It came open, and 1o! a bird flew up into the sky.

Again he rubbed his brother-in-laws' hairs, and a whole flock of birds, so thick they blocked the sun, appeared. They chased and chased the bird until they brought it to him. Holding on to it tightly, he said [to his carpet], "This time don't land except in Gazelle's town!"

He found Gazelle and her foe still sparring. "Who knows," he was saying, "but that I'll kill you and take away your soul?" And she was answering, "Not at all! Who knows but that I'll be getting the better of you and taking your soul away?"

"I told you where my soul was," mocked the other. "How are you going to get to it?"

[17] In actual practice, a father or brother may sometimes offer his daughter or his sister for a wife under special circumstances, as for example when another man loses his wife or as a reward for great achievement.

[18] "By Allah"—wallah or wallahi —is not really an oath but is used more as an affirmative in discourse. Although many tellers use it to punctuate their narrative, the teller of this tale seems more fond of it than most.

[19] This phrase is part of a proverb that is applied to someone who constantly gets into trouble: "A miserable [or unfortunate] one will remain miserable always, even if they hang twenty lanterns from his backside" (il-mat`us bizal mat`us, law `allaqu `a-zahro `išrin fanus ).

Hasan immediately squeezed the bird, showing no mercy.

"Ouch!" the jinni cried out. "By Allah, I'm in a tight spot."

"What!" she yelled back. "Are you mocking me?"

"No, by Allah," he confessed. "This time, I really am pressed."

Meanwhile, her husband kept tearing the bird's limbs. When he tore the bird's foot apart, the man's foot would fall, a wing from the bird, and a hand from the man—until there was nothing of him left at all.

The bird of this tale has flown, and now it's someone else's turn.

18.
Lolabe^[1]

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

Once there was a king who had a son—an only son and no other. He made a vow.^[2] If his son survived and grew up, he would run two channels

[1] The name "Lolabe" is not ordinarily used for girls; it means "spiral," and its applicability to the tale is obscure.

[2] The making of a vow (nidir ), usually in connection with something or someone precious and in danger of being lost or harmed, such as a stray animal or a sick child, is a popular practice in the Arab world. The individual making the vow states it as a condition: if A , then B. B is supposed to be an act favored by the Deity and may include any of the following propitiatory acts: animal sacrifice for the sake of Allah or for the poor (dbiha la-wajh il-lah, !a-l-fuqara ); fasting (syam ) for a certain number of days; going on the hajj; performing a certain number of prostrations (rak`at ) in prayer; lighting candles in a saint's shrine (maqam ) or a church (knise ), or buying articles that may be useful in these holy places; giving alms to the poor (sadaqa ); and so forth. One or more of these acts are performed after the desired result has occurred, among which may be: the return of an absent one (yrawwih i!-gayib ); the healing of a sick person (ytib il-imriz ); a woman's pregnancy (tihbal il-mara ); the birth of a boy (tjib sabi ); or the release of someone from prison (yitla` flan rain is-sijin ).

The vow is believed to bring good results; the Deity seems to favor such "deals" and so fulfills His part of the agreement. Most Palestinian adults can recount tens, if not hundreds, of cases where the vow worked. Yet a vow is also a serious and dangerous affair, for it is always possible that the person making it may not be able to fulfill his side. Such nonfulfillment may anger the Deity, causing Him to inflict a revenge that may be worse than the original condition—in which case it would have been better not to have made the vow in the first place.

In the tale, the listener is made to appreciate the father's anxiety over the boy's life, and hence the need for the vow. We are told that the king "had a son—an only son and no other." The implication here is that other siblings had died young because the mother is unable to bear children who can survive (bi`išilhaš wlad ), and thus he is liable to die young too. A related concern of the father is not having an heir should his remaining child die.

into the city for the benefit of the poor and the destitute. One channel would be filled with honey, and the other with ghee.^[3]

One day the boy grew up and started school, and an old crone began annoying him. Every day she would meet him and say, "Tell your mother to fulfill the vow, or I'll cut short your life!" But when he reached home, he forgot. The next day, she would wait for him on his way to school and say, "Tell your mother to fulfill the vow, or I'll cut short your life!" And he would answer, "But, grandmother, I keep forgetting."

"You forget," she said one day. Gathering some pebbles from the road, she put them in his pocket and said, "These stones are to remind you. The moment you put your hand in your pocket, you'll remember."^[4]

"Very well," he said. But when he came home from school he changed clothes without putting his hand in his pocket. When they washed his clothes, his mother found the pebbles in his pocket. "Yee!" she thought to herself. "Allah forgive me! A king's son with a craving. O my little baby! It looks like he wanted to put candy in his pocket, but look, he put in pebbles." The moment he came home, she asked him, "Son, why did you put these pebbles in your pocket? My darling boy, if you've been craving something, tell me and I'll give you the money to buy it."^[5]

"Ah yes, mother," he recalled. "No, I don't crave anything. Rather there's an old woman who meets me every day and says, 'Tell your mother to fulfill the vow, or I'll cut short your life.'"

"Yes, all right," she said.

The mother went up to see the king, and he gave orders, "Dig two channels, clean them well and paint them, and run honey in one and ghee in the other!" Now there was one who had news of the channels and who also knew the old woman. He was (Save your honors!) mean, a rascal.^[6] He went to the old woman and called out, "Hey! Old lady! The sultan

[3] Honey and ghee are worthy of a vow because both are highly desired and expensive. See Tale 1, n. 5.

[4] The putting of stones or other heavy objects in one's pocket as a reminder of something is actually practiced.

[5] The oversolicitous attitude of the mother, who invents a candy craving on the part of her son, is a realistic portrayal. The audience would appreciate this concern, however, because he is an only son.

[6] The Arabic word for "rascal" here is manjus , from the root najusa , "to be [ritually] impure or unclean." Hence, the narrator's interjection heša s-sam`in , translated here as "Save your honors!"; but see Tale 15, n. 8.

has declared he will cut off the heads of all the old women." She locked herself in and hid.

Meanwhile, the king had the channels built, one for honey and the other for ghee. People scooped the honey and ghee up until there was no more. The old woman's neighbor came to her, saying, "Hey, neighbor! What's the matter? Why do you have yourself locked in?"

"O, dear neighbor," she answered, "so and so told me such and such."

"Yee! God help you!" exclaimed the other. "He's tricked you. Didn't you know the king was today fulfilling the vow he'd made for his son? He's had a channel dug for honey and another for ghee. You'd better hurry."

Taking with her a piece of cotton, two small pots, and a little glass, she set out. She sat under the king's palace by the channels and started soaking her piece of cotton and squeezing it into the glass. The few drops of honey she poured into one pot, and the few drops of ghee into the other. Now the son of the king looked over and found it was the old crone who used to pester him every day, and she was letting [whatever she could get] soak into the cotton. She was too late to get much. Waiting until she had filled her glass, he brought a pebble and threw it out the window fight down at her glass, and lo! he spilled it. Looking up like so, she exclaimed, "Yee! So it's you, the son of the king! For over an hour I've been trying to fill this glass, and you've spilled it for me just like that! May Allah afflict you with Lolabe, daughter of Lolabe!"^[7]

"Don't worry, old woman," said the boy. "Come around this way, and I'll replace it for you."

She brought the two pots with her, and he filled them up and said, "Go your way!"

Afterwards, he went to his mother and said, "Mother, prepare food and provisions for me. I want to go searching for Lolabe."

"O my son, my darling! Son of worthy people! Where are you going to search?"

"No use," he insisted. "I'm going to search for her."

His horse having been prepared, he took the provisions and set out

[7] 'Alia yiblik ib-lolabe . Although falling in love is not considered to be bad or harmful for a boy, the old woman phrases her wish in the form of a curse (da`we ; see Tale 24, n. 3), using the word afflict . We may thus conclude that the vow was not fulfilled properly or that it came too late, and that punishment for the boy had to follow.

with the crowing of the cock.^[8] He traveled and traveled, moving from place to place, until he reached a castle on a hill in the wilderness. He must have been tired, for he lay down to rest by the wall of the castle. Looking out, Lolabe saw him at the foot of the castle.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Are you Clever Hasan?" (I don't know his name.)^[9]

"Yes," he answered.

"My mother's coming any moment, and she'll gobble you up. You'd better come up?

And (if the story is to be trusted) she let down her hair, he hung on to it, and she pulled him up into the castle with her. Her mother arrived.

"Lolabe! Lolabe!" she called out. "Let your hair down for your mother! Your sad, miserable, and tired mother, who's eaten a hundred trees and a hundred cows and still hasn't had enough."

Lolabe let down her hair and pulled her mother up. It is said, however, that as soon as she heard her mother's voice she blew on Hasan and changed him into a pin, which she stuck in her headband.

"You reek of human, human," said the mother when she came in. "Not for a little while, or since yesterday, but as of right now, even before sunrise!"^[10]

"O mother!" replied Lolabe. "It's you who goes running into all sorts of things! It's you who leaves early. As for me, I'm here in the castle. How could a human being possibly reach me?"

"I don't know," said the mother. "But you do smell of human."

"There is no human here," insisted Lolabe.

Looking about, the mother noticed the pin in Lolabe's headband.

"Lend me that pin so I can remove a thorn from my foot," she said.

"All day long you're wandering around running into things and knocking trees down under your feet," answered Lolabe. "And if there were a thorn in your foot, it would've fallen out."

"No, daughter," groaned the mother. "This is a big thorn. Give me the pin so I can remove it."

[8] Palestinian villagers used to—and some still do—depend on the cock's crow to signal morning and time to get up and go to work. Cocks are supposed to crow three times, punctuating the time from dawn to sunrise.

[9] This curious interjection by the teller is as if to say that the hero should have his own name, not just the generic "Clever Hasan." See, however, n. 14, below; cf. Tale 5, n. 4.

[10] Rihtik ins, ins, la min issa wala min ams; 'illa 'issa, qabl itlu` iš-šams is an unusual variation on the formula usually uttered by ghouls in this situation, which is simply "You smell of human" (rihtik ins ). Note the three-part rhyming pattern: ins, ams, šams .

Removing the pin, Lolabe turned it into a watermelon, which she hid among their store of watermelons, and she gave her another pin to remove the thorn. Her mother passed it this way and that over her foot and gave it back. (Could it be true that a ghouleh would really want to remove a thorn?) She looked around again and said, "Give me that watermelon to eat."

"All day long you're running around in the wild to fill your belly," complained Lolabe. "And now you've come to eat what I have in the house."

"By Allah," said the mother. "I'm really tired" (and I don't know what else), "go bring me a watermelon to eat."

Lolabe went and rolled a watermelon over to her mother, who said, "Not this one! That one!" "Not this one! That one!" and so on, insisting so much that Lolabe took hold of the watermelon and dashed it to the floor, spilling seeds all over. Now Lolabe (if the teller is not lying) covered one of the seeds with her foot, while her mother set about licking up the watermelon—seeds, find, and all—and started on her way out.

"Let me down," she said.

Lolabe let her down, and the ghouleh went her way. She then took the watermelon seed and blew on it, bringing the boy back as he had been.

"Let's hurry out of here!" she urged. "If my mother came back now, she'd kill us both and devour you." She then brought henna and spread it over all the articles of everyday use in the house—the kneading bowl, the plate, the cooking pot. She did not forget anything, they say, except the mortar and pestle.

Taking the comb, the mirror, and the kohl jar with her, she came down with him. They gathered themselves together and traveled, traveled.

"O Lolabe!" her mother called out when she came back. "Let your hair down for your sad and tired mother."

There was no answer. "She's kneading [the dough]," said the kneading bowl. "She's sifting [the flour]," said the sieve. "She's doing the laundry," said the washtub. The mortar and pestle was left, and it rang out, "Rinn! Rinn!" The human took her and ran away!"

[11] "Rinn! Rinn!" renders onomatopoeically the sound of a ringing bell. The behavior of the mortar and pestle is an apt metaphor for the spreading of rumor about a love relationship in a Palestinian village community.

She went running after them, following in their tracks. When Lolabe looked back, she spied the ghouleh and her bitch behind them.

"My mother's following us," she said. "In a moment, she'll devour us."

Taking hold of her comb, she cast it behind her. It turned into a fence of thorns, and they moved on, running away from there.

"Chop, chop, my little bitch!" said the ghouleh, "and I'll chop with you till we open a path and follow him."

They chopped and chopped until they cleared a path and then followed in pursuit.

When she looked back, Lolabe saw the ghouleh still behind them.

"She's catching up with us," said Lolabe, and she threw the kohl jar behind her. It turned into a wall of fire.

"Pee, pee, my little bitch!" said the ghouleh, "and I'll pee too, till we clear a path and follow them."

They pissed and pissed till they made a path, then followed in pursuit.

When Lolabe looked behind her, the ghouleh was still following.

"My mother's still on our heels," she said. "Now she'll devour us. We have only this mirror left."

Taking hold of the mirror, she tossed it behind her, and it turned into a pool that blocked the way for the ghouleh and her bitch.

"Lap it up, lap it up, my little bitch!" said the ghouleh to her helper, "and I'll lap it up too. If you burst, I'll sew you up; and if I burst, you'll sew me up again."

But how much water were they going to lap from this pool? They licked and licked until they both burst and died.

When Lolabe looked back, she found them dead.

"It's all over," she said. "They're gone. Now we're free."

Pulling themselves together, they traveled and traveled. If their village was 'Arrabe, they came, you might say, to the famous oak tree by Maslaxit.^[12] Leaving her there (he didn't think it proper to bring her home like that), he said, "Wait for me here till I go tell my family and come back for you with a proper wedding procession and the sultan's royal band." After he had gone, Lolabe climbed into the tree and sat down.

[12] This ancient tree in the plain of Battov (upper Galilee) is used by the local people as a landmark. Cf. Tale 5, n. 5; Tale 30, n. 11.

Underneath the tree there was a well. The slavegirl of the king's household came to fill her jar from the well. Looking over into the water, she saw Lolabe's reflection there.

"Alas!" she cried out. "Me with all this beauty in the well, and I'm a slave to a household of blacksmiths!"^[13]

Smash! She hurled the water jug to the ground and went home, got another jar, and came back. Again looking into the water, she saw Lolabe's reflection. She thought her reflection beautiful.

"What!" she exclaimed. "Me with all this beauty in the well, and I'm a slave to a household of blacksmiths!" Hurling her water jug to the ground, she was set to leave, when Lolabe laughed from the tree. Looking up, the slavegirl saw her.

"So," she said. "It's you who's sitting up there, and I've been breaking my master's jars for nothing. Now they'll kill me. You'd better come down!"

Lolabe climbed down.

The slavegirl, it turned out, was a witch. Holding the bride in front of her, she stuck her full of pins. When she stuck a pin in her head, it would turn into a dove's head, and her arms into dove's wings. She stuck and stuck her with pins until she had changed Lolabe completely into a dove. She threw Lolabe into the air, put on her clothes, and sat in the tree waiting for the son of the king. Arriving with the sultan's band, the son of the king passed under the tree and prepared to bring her down. And how did he find her, but sitting there [like a princess]? "Climb down!" he said, and he brought her down from the tree.

"Are you Lolabe?" he asked when she came down.

"Yes."

"Why are your eyes like that?"

"Because I've been crying for you so much."

"Why are your nostrils like that?"

"Because I've been blowing my nose from crying so much."

"And why is your face like that?"

"Because I was slapping it so much, lamenting your absence."

[13] This reference, `abdit dar haddadin (which could also mean, "a slave to a family named Haddadin"), is obscure, for we have just been told that she is a "slave of the king's household." Practitioners of all crafts, however, and blacksmiths in particular (perhaps because they were most often gypsies), were generally looked down upon, especially by the Bedouins.

"She is my portion and my fate," he said to himself, covering her face before anybody could see her. He sat her on a horse, and the procession started for home. As soon as they arrived at the palace, he took her inside and lived with her. "It's settled!" he convinced himself. "She must be Lolabe." She herself kept insisting she was Lolabe.

From that time the real Lolabe started coming to their house, the palace of the king. She would fly to the kitchen and perch on the wall.

"Cook! O cook!" she would cry. "The son of the king, your master— is he happy or sad? Is lie in the company of whites or blacks? Come, let us cry together tears of coral and pearl!" Perching on the wall, she would then weep, and pearls and coral would pour from her eyes. The cook would rush out to pick them up, and the food would burn. The first day, the food burned; the second day also. On the third day, the son of the sultan said [to his servants], "Tell the cook to come see me! I want to see what's the matter with him, why for the past two or three days the food's been burned so badly we haven't been able to eat it." They sent for him, and he came.

"Come here!" said the son of the sultan. "Why for the past two or three days have you been doing that to the food? Are you new at this trade?"

"Master, let me explain!" replied the cook. "Every day a dove comes, perches on the wall, and cries out, 'Cook, O cook! The son of the sultan, your master—is he happy or sad? Is he in the company of whites or blacks? Come, let us cry together tears of coral and pearl!' She stands on the edge of the wall and weeps and weeps, and coral and pearls pour down. Look how much I've already collected from what she's left behind? "When does she usually come?"

"She comes when I start to cook," he answered. "I go out to collect the coral and pearls. I get distracted, and the food burns."

"All right, this time you're forgiven. Tomorrow, take good care of the food!"

Going up to the roof, the son of the king lay in wait for her. When the dove came, she landed on the wall. "Cook, O cook!" she called out. "The son of the king, your master—is he happy or sad? Is he in the company of whites or blacks? Come, let us cry together tears of coral and pearl!" She was distracted, crying, when he crept up from behind, reached out his hand, and caught her. Taking her inside, he put her in his lap. As he stroked her, he found the pins planted in her body. Pull, pull! The first

pin—her arm came back as it was. The second pin and the third—he kept feeling around, removing pins from her body, until Lolabe appeared again.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Who did this to you?"

"A slavegirl came upon me," she answered. "Such and such happened to me, and she was the one who did this."

Now the other (she was a witch after all!) outwitted him. She caught him, changed him into a dove, and made him fly away. She then started to lord it over Lolabe, making her sleep on a straw mat. He, too, would come flying around her window, land on the sill, and cry out, "O Lolabe, Lolabe! How are you faring in my father's house?"

"Mats under me and mats over me," she would answer. "It is the sleep of hardship, O my Yusuf!"

Perched on her window, he would weep and weep till his eyes went blind, and then he would fly away. Coming back the next day, he cried out, "Lolabe, O Lolabe! How are you faring in my father's house?"

"Bedding under me and bedding over me," she answered. "It is the sleep of comfort, O my Yusuf!"

Standing there, he cried, and she cried with him. When his eyes went nearly blind, he gathered himself and flew away. On the third day he came back, calling, "Lolabe, O Lolabe! How are you faring in my father's house?"

"Silk under me and silk over me," she answered. "It is the sleep of a vizier, O my Yusuf!"^[14]

Standing in the window, he cried and cried. Meanwhile, she had been waiting behind the window, and, reaching out her hand, she caught hold of him and removed the pins from his body.

They began their wedding celebrations all over again, holding a feast and making merry for many an evening. He married her. It was then announced in the city, "He who loves the sultan must bring a load of wood and some burning coals!" They burned the witch and scattered her ashes to the wind.

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

[14] The first-person possessive of the name Yusuf (Yusufi) in Lolabe's answer (tihti harir, foqi harir; nom il-wazir, ya Yusufi ) is used as a connecting rhyme, or near rhyme (-bi with -fi ), with the question (ya Lolabi, wiš halik fi dar abi ?). The question itself and all three answers form rhyming ditties that are apparently independent of the rest of the tale—which may explain why the teller was confused earlier (see n. 9, above) about the name of the hero.

Afterword

In contrast to the tales in the previous group, which explore subjective feelings associated with sexuality, the quest tales here concern the search for a bride as a public affair circumscribed by preexisting conditions. The interplay of social forces in the quest situation is similar in all three tales, receiving its clearest expression in "The Brave Lad." The very realistic narration in this tale, the absence of magic and the supernatural, itself gives a meaningful cultural context to the quest pattern. The teller relates this tale without distancing herself from the action, as if the events narrated came, or could come, from actual life. It seems perfectly natural for a lad to desire the king's daughter but be too poor to propose (see Tale 16, n. 2). His quest is realistically motivated, as is the girl's desire to help him. The tale's sense of realism is heightened for an Arab audience when the teller says the girl wanted to marry her cousin, whom she loved, and the ghoul had taken her against her will. From this tale we see the basic elements of the quest clearly: a male in search of a mate, a female receptive to his approach and willing to help him, and an authority figure who must be overcome before the maiden can be won.

In all three tales the initiation of the quest is constrained by the requirements of the social system. In "The Brave Lad" the fulfillment of the lad's private desire for the king's daughter is made contingent on the performance of a public duty—killing the ghoul. The same holds true for "Gazelle," where, in the process of obtaining the soul of the jinni from the tiger's kneebone, the hero rescues the town from the ravages of four other monsters. And in "Lolabe" as well, the boy's quest is tied to a public function, namely, the fulfillment of a vow—an act that benefits everyone in the city, especially the poor and the destitute.

The purpose of the quest, it would appear, is to demonstrate the necessity of cooperation between the partners in order to ensure their success. Left to his or her own resources, neither partner would succeed. The girl in "The Brave Lad" did not know the secret of the three hairs before the young man came into the cave, and he in turn would not have been able to pluck them from the ghoul's head as she did. The boy in "Lolabe" would not have been able to cast the magic spells on his own,

and without him Lolabe would not have risked the perilous journey out of the wilderness castle. And the young man in "Gazelle" would not have been able to move the mountain without Gazelle's help, nor would she have been finally able to kill her arch foe without his aid. Similarly, cooperation is necessary in the face of the hostility the young couple faces from their parents and from society. It affirms the breaking of the parental bond of authority and the creation of a new bond based on mutual love and partnership.

Yet within the framework of cooperation the roles are not equal. That of the female is more complex than that of the male, reflecting perhaps the complexity of her actual role in society, with marriage being for her a transition from one authority figure (the father) to another (the husband). The role of the male is to go looking for a mate, but beyond his needing the courage to start the quest, not much else is asked of him. In "Gazelle," even the quest itself is not initiated by the young man alone; Gazelle's role in it is substantial. She not only guides him to the right places where he can obtain help to move the mountain, but she also helps him in the task itself by overcoming the guardian jinni. Similarly in the other two tales: once the quest is initiated, the responsibility of seeing it through to completion fills to the women. The complexity of the female role is dear in "Lolabe." After Lolabe exerts her utmost to save the young man and herself from the clutches of her mother, he abandons her in the tree while he goes to obtain his parents' consent to bring home his bride—consent that apparently was not forthcoming, for the couple must suffer still further hardship before their marriage can be celebrated openly.

Seen in its cultural context, the quest itself appears as the price that young people who wish to select their own mates must pay for the freedom to make their own choice. The authority figure functions to preserve tradition by putting obstacles in the path of personal freedom for both sexes. In "Gazelle," the dying father instructs his sons to give their sisters to any suitors who come seeking marriage. Although exaggerated, this situation represents the practice even today. Because in traditional Palestinian and Arab culture the choice of a mate is of vital importance to the community, it cannot be left entirely up to the individual; the interests of the whole family must be taken into account as well. Those who insist on choosing for themselves, then, must be willing to make sacrifices to achieve their goals. In "The Brave Lad," the young hero must

have enough courage to face the ghoul; and in "Gazelle," he must at least have the courage to face the tiger. In "Lolabe," the successful union at the end must be earned by overcoming two sets of obstacles, one from the mother ghouleh, and the other (though not explicitly) from the boy's own parents.

Arrayed against the young couple in their struggle are the supernatural forces of the jinn, the subhuman forces of the ghouls, and the black forces of magic. What is the function of these forces, and why do they occur here? We notice, on closer examination, that only the authority figures are presented as ghouls or jinn. In "The Brave Lad" the ghoul is the husband, in "Lolabe" the ghouleh is the mother, and in "Gazelle" the guardian of the mountain is a jinni—and, we presume, an agent of or surrogate for Gazelle's father as well. (The situation in this tale is complicated by the fact that Gazelle herself is said to be of the jinn.) Earlier (see Tale 6, n. 13; Tale 8, n. 8), we suggested that ghouls might represent exaggerated human appetites—hunger or sexuality—gone to excess. Here, the human appetite presented in ghoulish aspect is parental possessiveness, a force that aims to keep a son or a daughter in a state of perpetual childhood. Thus the parents at the beginning of "Lolabe" forget about fulfilling their vow: they do not want to admit to themselves that their son has grown up. The love of a ghoul for his children is in fact proverbial in Palestinian folk speech. A person's excessive love for his or her children is said to be "like the love of a ghoul for his child" (zayy, imhabt il-gul la-'ibno ).

We therefore see that the behavior of the authority figure is part of a cultural pattern as well. Although in each tale the couple are ready for each other and for the match, the parents are reluctant to let go of their children. The image of Lolabe, imprisoned by her mother in a wilderness castle, represents most poignantly the situation of marriageable girls. And the behavior of the fathers in "The Brave Lad" and "Gazelle" is not very different from that of Lolabe's mother; they, too, keep their daughters beyond the reach of suitors, setting nearly impossible conditions for winning their hands. The situation in "The Brave Lad," moreover, underscores the point by presenting a second authority figure, a man who marries a girl against her will, as a ghoul. Thus the ghouls and jinn are imaginative representations of the obstructing forces as seen by the intending couple. In order for the couple to achieve their aim, these forces must be eliminated. Gazelle hangs her rival jinni by his hair, being unable to get

his soul and kill him; as long as he remains alive, her relationship with her husband remains insecure. The necessity of overcoming the authority figures, then, is the very source of the narrative logic that turns them into monsters or ghouls, thereby justifying the couple's killing them with impunity.

Finally, the significant role that hair plays as a unifying image for the source of power in all three tales must be mentioned. In "The Brave Lad," the ghoul is killed by removing three hairs from his head. (Cf. the story of Samson, Judges 16.) By rubbing his magic hairs, the young man in "Gazelle" is able to summon the jinn; and Gazelle herself disables his rival when she hangs him up by his hair. Although these instances, which spring from ancient Semitic folklore, are, like Lolabe's hair, removed from the domain of ordinary experience, the cultural context nevertheless helps to explain the significance of hair in the folk imagination. In Palestinian culture, hair is thought of almost as if it were a private part of the body, and both women and men, especially among the fellahin, cover their heads. Women with long hair, which is considered a mark of feminine beauty and a source of attraction to men, tie it in a bun and cover it. Indeed, a woman who lets her hair down in front of strangers is considered immodest, such behavior being interpreted as an act of allurement. In Tale 20, the king happens upon a girl combing her long hair and immediately falls in love with her; perhaps, then, Lolabe's long hair, which has the power to attract a young man from a distant land, is the source of her magic power as well.