by Rafik Schami
"I'm going to drink my tea and go," said Fatma. "You must forgive me for saying that your reception is not worthy of my story. You can't tell anything to people with faces as twisted as yours." Fatma closed her eyes. "No!" she said very quietly. "By the soul of my mother, if you don't come right out and beg me for the story then I am going to leave."
Ali trembled: he had never heard Fatma use such a harsh tone. Salim, on the other hand, beamed, as if Fatma's words were a bouquet of a thousand and one flowers. He stood up and kissed her on the forehead. This was the first time the coachman had ever kissed her in over fifty years of friendship, and his cheeks glowed when Isam said, "Ah, if only I were Salim! If Fatma would accept a kiss like that from me I would be prepared to go for a year without saying a thing."
Ali smiled, relieved.
"Well ... if it will help Salim, I have nothing against it," the minister—the chief dissenter—finally said, smiling. The teacher, the barber, and, lastly, Junis followed suit.
"Well let's get on with it," Isam bellowed.
"May all quarrels be damned in the grave. It's already half past nine," added Tuma.
Fatma declined to gloat over her victory, and in the ensuing moments just sipped her tea in peace and quiet.
"Tell us your story, please!" begged the barber.
"I will tell you all a beautiful story about the Egyptian witches," she said, and a shy smile briefly adorned her face.
"It's up to us, if I may observe," the teacher grumbled, "to decide whether it's beautiful or not."
"Would you be quiet!" Isam shouted at the teacher.
"I will tell it so that you may be cured, Salim, and so that it may give you joy. God grant a long and happy life . . . only to him who listens well," Fatma continued. "Many many ages ago there was a very smart witch named Anum. She lived in ancient Egypt long before the first mummies and pyramids. She was the first woman allowed to study with the great priest Dudokhnet and learn alchemy, beer brewing, and papermaking. When the priest lay on his deathbed, he named Anum as his successor—For,' so he explained to the priests gathered around him, 'she alone will succeed in finding the philosophers stone—' "
"I know this story," the minister interrupted. "First the pharaoh refuses but then assigns Anum seven difficult tasks. And she solves all seven, right?"
"Yes," answered Fatma.
"And does she find the philosophers stone?" Isam wanted to know.
"Yes she finds it," the minister said. "And whoever so much as licks a particle of its dust becomes a genius, right? The pyramids were built by architects who swallowed a tiny pearl of it, no bigger than a lentil. The bees used to smear their honey everywhere before the Egyptians taught them to use wax for honeycombs and ..."
Salim shook his head angrily and glared at the minister. Faris halted and turned to Fatma. "Oh, I beg your pardon! I interrupted you!"
"No matter," said Fatma, but the old coachman tasted gall in her voice. "Your Excellency may know this tale, and a hundred others, but no one on this earth has heard the following story, not even my Ali. So either listen or let me go home!"
"For God's sake!" the barber cried out. "Tell it, please, Fatma, tell it!"
"Once upon a time there was a young woman whose name was Leila. She herself was neither beautiful nor ugly, but her tongue was blessed, just like our Salim's tongue has always been and hopefully will soon be again.
"In any case, Leila lost her parents at a young age and from then on lived with her grandparents in a mountain village in the north of Yemen. Even as a little girl Leila loved hearing stories, and whatever she heard once she kept in her heart forever. Nothing in the world could make her forget a story. Well, while the other young women made themselves up every day and sauntered over to the village well, ever on the lookout for men, Leila's only interest was her stories. The strongest man in the village was less attractive to her than a tiny fable, and the most handsome man could not possess her heart even for the length of a brief anecdote. Leila spared no effort to hear a new tale, even if it meant days of travel across dangerous mountains and treacherous steppes.
"In any case, the years passed, and Leila became the best-known storyteller far and wide. On those evenings when she told stories, not only did she charm her listeners, she herself was charmed by what she told. She could speak with stars, animals, and plants as if she were the magic fairy of her own stories. People said that her words had so much power that one day she talked to a rotten tree trunk about spring for such a long time that it sent forth new shoots of green. But Leila didn't just tell her stories to people, animals, and plants, she also confided them to the wind and the clouds. One time there was a drought—and believe me, it was merciless. The farmers prayed and prayed, but not Leila. She climbed the highest mountain and waited there until she saw a little cloud moving quickly across the sky. Leila began to tell the cloud a story, and it stopped to listen. Other clouds joined it, and soon the whole sky was overcast. As the story grew more exciting, the clouds grew darker, and when the story reached its most suspenseful moment, Leila broke off, turned to the clouds, and called up: 'If you want to hear the rest, you'll have to come down here!' The clouds flashed their lightning and rushed down as a sudden shower, just to be closer to Leila."
Fatma paused and finished her cigarette. "Well, there was one summer when it was raining so hard that the people were scared. The earth became sodden, and the swallows hid in their nests on the high cliffs. Late in the afternoon the dogs started howling strangely. When the sun went down, the villagers heard cries for help and shouts of pain coming from a deep grotto not far off. A few of the bravest men and women approached the cave, but they trembled with fear at every cry.
" 'It must be a monster,' said the village elder.
" 'A monster? Then why is it crying for help?' an old farmer wondered.
" 'Maybe those are the cries of the people it's eating!' presumed a midwife.
" 'Or else the monster is trying to lure us in. My father told me that the crocodiles along the Nile hide in the high cattails and cry aloud like a small child until some mother, washing at the river, hears the cries and runs to the place where she thinks a child has fallen into the water. But that's just what the crocodile is waiting for . . .'
" 'My grandfather told me hyenas sometimes sneeze—' a shoemaker wanted to confirm.
" 'Crocodiles this and hyenas that,' a knight interrupted, 'a true Yemenite must always be prepared to sacrifice himself to answer a cry of distress.' He took his lance and hurried inside the rocky cave, but the only thing to come back out were more cries for help.
"During the day the cave was quiet, but night after night the villagers heard the anguished cries begging for mercy. Grown-ups didn't dare go near the hole, but curiosity drove the children there.
"Two children disappeared in the first week, a girl and a boy. The farmers were convinced that the monster had drawn them into his lair and devoured them. More and more children followed. Although none of the farmers had laid eyes on the creature, whenever they talked about the monster they would describe every tooth in its mouth and every spike on its tail. After a month no one dared mention the word monster; they just referred to 'the thing in the hole.' "
Fatma paused, took out her tin of tobacco, and carefully rolled another very thin cigarette.
"That's just like it is today," said Isam, who could no longer bear the silence. "When someone's been arrested we say that he's been 'taken to his aunt's.' And of course we call the prime minister Abdul the Chicken-Eater."
"I thought he was Abdul the Money-Slurper," said Ali.
"No, that's passé," Faris interjected and laughed. "Today my son called him Monsieur Abdul Goose-liver, since he enjoys having that famous pate flown in from Paris."
"I like that," Isam again spoke up, "and the minister of the interior's called 'The Drum' since he's just as loud and empty."
"In any case," Fatma began again and took a drag on her cigarette, "whenever anyone mentioned 'the thing in the
hole,' the farmers would call out: 'Auzu billah min al-Shaitan al-Rajim,' to protect themselves from the devil.
"One day Leila awoke from a strange dream, put on her clothes, and parted from her grandparents with the words: 'I'm going where my dream has called me. In my dream I saw the thirty children who have disappeared. They were laughing at the entrance to the cave. It's time their laughter returned to the village. Please, don't cry, my dreams will never lead me to my ruin.'
" 'Auzu billah min al-Shaitan al-Rajim!' the grandparents called out in unison.
" 'Please,' Leila said, 'I want to go. Don't worry, my thousands and thousands of stories will protect me.' She hurried out, and a flock of children followed her to the entrance of the cave. Leila gave them one last look, waved to them, and walked inside.
" 'Leila's gone inside the cave! Leila's gone inside the cave!'—the children's cries echoed through the streets. The sad news spread from house to house, and before the sun had set it had reached the farthest corner of the village. When darkness fell, the villagers heard the cries for help, and a few claimed to recognize Leila's voice. Neighbors visited her grandparents and sadly expressed their sympathy, and one or two people whispered furtively that their long-held suspicions had been confirmed, namely that the poor girl had been crazy since birth.
"Leila meanwhile saw a small light flickering in the depth of the cave. She walked toward it slowly and wondered at the stone figures crowded around the entrance. No human hand, not even the chisel of time could have sculpted people more true to life than those statues frozen in flight. Not a single buttonhole, not a single hair, not even a single bead of sweat was missing from the stone figures struggling to reach the opening of the cave.
"Inside the cave it was so still that Leila could hear her heart beating. After a while she came to a large hall. Here, too, there were stone figures standing all around, facing the hall, frozen in fear. Large beeswax candles were burning everywhere, and in one corner there were more than ten beehives. Across from that was a spring; the water flowed out of one crevice and into another. The bees were buzzing and flying through a hole in the rock out into the open air. Leila saw no trace of a monster. She began to search the cavern for secret entryways—when all of a sudden she stumbled across the horrible creature. May God protect us all from its sight! There it was, lying in a stone trough.
"Leila quickly hid herself behind a rock pile. She didn't have to wait long; an hour after sunset the monster awoke. It looked so frightful I'd better not describe it to you; otherwise I would spoil your evening. The monster licked some honey and bewailed its horrible fate.
"Leila felt her legs begin to buckle with fear, so she closed her eyes for a minute and borrowed the courage of a wounded mother lion from a story she had kept well preserved inside her memory. This mother-courage could make even the strongest warriors tremble.
"Slowly she opened her eyes, and although the walls of the cave shook frightfully with every cry the monster made, Leila's legs were no longer weak. She stood up and with sure steps approached the monster, which looked at her in astonishment, then buried its face in its hands and said, 'Go away, or else I will devour you, go!'
" 'Salaam aleikum! I will gladly listen to your story, but I will not follow your command. I didn't come here to run away!' Leila said and took another step in the direction of the monster.
" 'Leave, for I am cursed and damned, and whoever touches me will turn into a beast!' the monster begged Leila.
" 'That's not true, or else I would know a story about it,' answered Leila, and she touched the monster's slimy paw that was covered with green scales. 'Tell me your story,' she pleaded.
" 'How can I! Every word of my misfortune weighs like a mountain on my breast. Every syllable cuts like a knife. When I want to pronounce it, it rends my throat,' the monster groaned and wept.
" 'Then I'll tell you a story. If it doesn't help you, it may at least relieve your sorrow.' Leila then told the monster the story of the seven sisters.
"The story is long, very long, my noble listeners," said Fatma to the old men who were hanging on her every word. "There's not enough time tonight, but I promise to tell it to you another time. In any case, when Leila described what trials and tribulations the first and oldest sister had been forced to undergo before she finally found happiness, the monster calmed down. Instead of crying, it was listening. Shortly before dawn it laid its head in Leila's lap, taking in her every word, just like a child. The monster was so peaceful that Leila thought it was sleeping. She paused, only to catch her breath, but the creature whispered to her, full of concern, 'And then what did she do to escape from her prison?' Leila gave a tired smile and went on. Noon came, and night, and still Leila continued her story, and whenever she paused to catch her breath the monster begged her to keep on telling.
"Not until the sun stood at its zenith on the second day did the monster fall asleep. Leila lay his head on a stone and walked over to the well. She refreshed herself with the cool water and crept out of the cave unnoticed. Once outside she took off her dress and filled it with pomegranates, figs, grapes, and corn from the nearby fields, then hurried back to the cave. She ate as much as she could, slept just enough to restore her strength, and then waited for the monster to wake up. Then she told him about the sorrows and fortunes of the second sister. Night came and again the new day broke, and the monster listened like a child to the story until it fell asleep. For seven nights Leila held the monster spellbound with her stories. It did not shed another tear.
"On the seventh night, the seventh and youngest daughter fell into disgrace with her ruthless father, who was a king, and the stern judge pronounced the royal sentence: the daughter would be beheaded the next day at sunset if no one could be found who would take her place and sacrifice himself. At this point the monster started up, excited.
" 'But there was no one,' Leila spoke on, very moved, who wanted to give up his life to save the youngest daughter.'
" 'But I want to!' the monster suddenly cried out: 'She is innocent. I will gladly give my life so that she may live!'
"When the monster spoke these words, its skin split with a resounding clap and a handsome youth stepped out of the shell. He was as beautiful as dew on the petals of a rose. His noble offer to sacrifice himself had proven stronger than the spell that had bound him. 'I am Prince Yasid,' he said, looking deep into Leila's eyes. 'You have freed me from my torment and I shall grant whatever your heart desires.'
"Suddenly Leila and the prince heard hundreds of children giggling. The boys and girls who had been turned to stone were released from their spell together with the prince and were now laughing at him because he was stark naked. The children who had been frozen in flight were also released. They heard the laughter in the cave and came running in to look. After a while they all went back to the village and reported that a naked youth was living in the cave, and that he was very shy and that he had turned red because he was naked. Leila was well; she was taking a bath in the cool water while the youth was grilling some ears of corn for her over a small fire. The parents of the missing children danced for joy, and the whole village went wild with glee.
" 'Of all the friends who followed me,' the youth told Leila, 'these bees are the only ones who stayed. They gave me light and honey. All the others succumbed to fear at the sight of me—except for you—and so they turned to stone. But let me tell you my story from the beginning. You will hardly believe it.
" 'My father, King Yasid the First, ruled over a happy Yemen for more than twenty years. On the day of my birth, he had a dream...' And Prince Yasid told Leila his truly unbelievable story. He went on for three days. In any case, there's not enough time to tell this story to you now, but if I live long enough, I will be happy to tell it to you some other time. As I said, the youth told her his story, and when he had finished, he made his way outside with Leila. People had been waiting anxiously in front of the cave for days, for they had heard whispers and laughter coming from the belly of the grot
to, but no one had dared to set foot inside.
"Yasid addressed the crowd: 'Salaam aleikum, kind grandparents, neighbors, and friends of this storyteller who has freed me from the curse, so that the words from my heart, which have sought the light of the world for so long now, fly to it like butterflies.' The farmers shouted with joy.
" 'I hereby declare,' Yasid continued, 'as Prince of Sa'na and as the son of King Yasid the First, that I intend to take Leila to be my wife!'
" 'Your wish is our command,' the grandparents stammered in awe.
"The villagers cheered the king and his successor, and the grandparents wept tears of joy. But then Leila raised her delicate hand. 'No, my prince. You are gracious and kindhearted, but it is my wish to venture forth into the world. Your palace is firmly rooted in the earth and will keep me as painfully chained as the scales that tormented you for all these years. Farewell!'
" 'But—' the prince began to express his displeasure.
" 'No but, my prince. You promised to grant me whatever my heart desired—or is your word lightly given and lightly broken?' she said and walked away without haste or hesitation. The people looked at her agape. Now many were absolutely certain that Leila was crazy.
"In any case, the prince returned to the capital. He had the treacherous vizier, who had had him changed into a monster, thrown into a dungeon. Out of gratitude he sent seven camels laden with silk, silver, and gold to Leila's grandparents.
"But Leila ventured forth into the world. From the mountains of happy Yemen she traveled across the desert to Baghdad. For three years she lived in the city of the Thousand and One Nights until she met a man and fell in love. He was only visiting Baghdad, for he was an engineer on the Hejaz railroad that ran from Jordan to Mecca and Medina. Leila saw this as a gift from heaven. She traveled with her beloved, and whenever she wanted, she would get off the train, to tell stories and to listen to them in the nearby cities, villages, and Bedouin camps until her lover's train returned. Her fairy-tale happiness lasted for years.
