Chapter 29
The boys of Abeih are early risers. What a merry laugh they have! What new song is that they are singing now?
There has been a shower in the night and Yusef and Khalil are singing about the rain. We say in English "_it_ rains" but the Arabs tell us what "it" refers to. They say "The world rains," "The world snows," "The world is coming down," "The world thunders and lightens." So you will be able to tell your teacher, when he asks you to parse "it rains," that "_it_" is a pronoun referring to "world." Hear them sing:
Rain, O world, all day and night, We will wash our clothing white. Rain, O world, your waters shed, On my dear grandmother's head.
The sun shines out now, and Khalil says the "world has got well" again, so he sings:
Shines the sun with brightest beam On the roof of Im Seleem; Now the bear will dance a reel, On the roof of Im Khaleel.
The roofs of the houses are low and flat, and on the hill-sides you can walk from the street above upon the roof of the houses below. I once lived in a house in Duma in which the cattle, donkeys, and sheep used to walk on our roof every evening as they came in from pasture. It was not very pleasant to be awakened at midnight by a cow-fight on the roof, and have the stones and dirt rattling down into our faces, but we could get no other house, and had to make the best of it. You can understand then Khalil's song:
The sun is rising all so bright Upon the Pasha's daughter: See her toss the tassels blue, As her mother taught her. Turn the oxen on the roof Of the village priest; He will kill them one and all, And give the poor a feast.
The boys seem to be in high glee. They all know Handûmeh and her betrothed Shaheen Ma'ttar, so they are swinging and singing in honor of her wedding.
But the time has come for the wedding, and we will go over to Ain Kesûr, about a mile away, and join in the bridal procession. As we come near the house we hear the women inside singing. They have been dressing the bride, and after she is dressed they lead her around and try to make her dance. Perhaps they will let us see how she is dressed. Her head is covered with a head-dress of pink gauze, embroidered with gold thread and purple chenille, and ornamented with pearl beads and artificial flowers, and over all a long white gauze veil trimmed with lace. Her ear-rings are gold filigree work with pendant pearls, and around her neck is a string of pure amber beads and a gold necklace. She wears a jacket of black velvet, and a gilt belt embroidered with blue, and fastened with a silver gilt filigree buckle in the form of a bow knot with pendants. On her finger is a gold ring set with sapphire, and others with turquoises and amethysts. Her dress is of brown satin, and on her arms are solid gold bracelets which cost 1400 piastres or fifty-six dollars. You know Handûmeh is not a rich girl, and her betrothed is a hard working muleteer, and he has had to work very hard to get the money to buy all these things, for it is the custom for the bridegroom to pay for the bride's outfit. The people always lay out their money in jewelry because it is easily carried, and easily buried in time of civil wars and troubles in the land. Shaheen's brothers and relatives have come to take her to Abeih, but he is nowhere to be seen. It would not be proper for him to come to her house. For weeks she has not been over to Abeih, except to invite us to her wedding, and when Anna asked her on what day she was to be married, she professed not to know anything about it. They think it is not modest for a bride to care anything about the wedding, and she will try to appear unwilling to go when they are ready to start. The women are singing now:
Dance, our bride so fair, Dance and never care; Your bracelets sing, your anklets ring, Your shining beauty would dazzle a king! To Damascus your father a journey has made, And your bridegroom's name is Abû Zeid.
And now the young men outside are dancing and fencing, and they all join in singing:
Dance, my dancer, early and late, Would I had like you seven or eight; Two uncles like you, blithe and gay, To stand at my back in the judgment day!
And now the young men, relatives of the bridegroom, address the brother of the bride, as her father is not living, and they all sing:
O brother of the bride, on a charger you should ride; A Councillor of State you should be; Whene'er you lift your voice, The judgment halls rejoice, And the earth quakes with fear From Acre to Ghuzeer.
And now the warlike Druzes, who are old friends of Shaheen and his father, wish to show their good will by singing a wedding song, which they have borrowed from the old wild inhabitants of this land of Canaan:
O brother of the bride, your mare has gnawed her bridle, Run for the blacksmith, do not be idle. She has run to the grave where are buried your foes, And pawed out their hearts with her iron shoes!
But the time has come for the procession to move, and we go along slowly enough. The bride rides a mare, led by one of Shaheen's brothers, and as we pass the fountain, the people pour water under the mare's feet as a libation, and Handûmeh throws down a few little copper coins to the children. The women in the company set up the zilagheet, a high piercing trill of the voice, and all goes merry as a marriage bell. When we reach the house of Shaheen, he keeps out of sight, not even offering to help his bride dismount from her horse. That would never do. He will stay among the men, and she in a separate room among the women, until the hour of the ceremony arrives.
But the women are singing again, and this time the song is really beautiful in Arabic, but I fear I have made lame work of it in the translation:
Allah, belaly, belaly, Allah, belaly, belaly, May God spare the life of your sire, Our lovely gazelle of the valley! May Allah his riches increase He has brought you so costly a dowry; The moonlight has gone from his house, The rose from his gardens so flow'ry. Run away, rude men, turn aside, Give place to our beautiful bride: From her sweet perfumes I am sighing, From the odor of musk I am dying. Come and join us fair maid, they have brought you your dress, Leave your peacocks and doves, give our bride a caress; Red silk! crimson silk! the weaver cries as he goes: But our bride's cheeks are redder blushing bright as the rose. Dark silk! black silk! hear him now as he sings: But our bride's hair is black, like the raven's dark wings; With the light of our eyes with our Handûmeh sweet No maid of the Druzes can ever compete. She is worth all the wealth of the Lebanon domain, All the vineyards and olives, the silk worms and grain. And no maids of the Christians can with her compare Tho' shining with pearls and with jewels so rare.
The house is now crowded full, the men being all in one room with Shaheen, and the women in the other room, and the court with the bride Handûmeh. One of Shaheen's brothers comes around with a kumkum, and sprinkles orange flower water in all our faces, and Khalil asks us if we wish the ceremony to take place now? We tell him that he must ask the bride and groom. So Abû Shaheen comes into the court with the old priest Eklemandus, as Shaheen's family belong to the Greek Catholic sect. Handûmeh is really a Protestant, and Shaheen has nothing to do with the priests, but the "old folks" had their way about it. A white curtain hangs across the court, and the bride stands on one side, with her bridesmaid, and all the women and girls, and on the other side is the priest with Shaheen, and all of the men and boys. Then candles were distributed, and lighted, and the old priest adjusted his robes and began to read the marriage service. An assistant stood by his side looking over his shoulder, and responding Amen in a loud and long drawn voice. At length the priest called out to him, "A little shorter there on those Amens. We don't want long Amens at a wedding!" This set the whole crowd laughing, and on he went reading passages of Scripture, prayers and advice to the bride and bridegroom in the most hasty and trifling manner, intoning it through his nose, so that no one could understand what he was saying. While he was reading from the gospel about the marriage at Cana of Galilee, a small boy, holding a lighted candle, came very near burning off the old man's beard, and he called out to him, "Put out your candle! You have tormented my life out of me with that candle." This raised another laugh, and on he read. Then he took two rings, and drawing aside the curtain, placed one on the bride's head, and the other on the bridegroom's head, pronouncing them man and wife, and then gave them each a sip of wine and the ceremony was concluded, all the men kissing Shaheen, and the women Handûmeh. Refreshments were then served to the guests from the village, and a dinner to those from other villages. In the evening there assembled a great company in Shaheen's house, and the hour was given up to story telling. Saleh, whose brother married Shaheen's sister, will begin with the _Story of the Goats and the Ghoul_.
Once there was a Nanny Goat, strong and powerful, with long and strong horns, and once upon a time she brought forth twin kids, fair and beautiful. One was named _Sunaisil_, and the other Rabab. Now the Nanny Goat went out every morning to the pasture, leaving her twin kids in the cave. She shut the door carefully, and they locked it on the inside through fear of the Ghoul, for her neighbor in the next house was a Ghoul who swallowed little children alive. Then at evening when she came home, she would stand outside the door, and sing to her twin kids this little song:
Hearken now Sunaisil, Come Rabab my dear: Open to your mother, Never, never fear. She has sweet milk in her udder. Tufts of grass upon her horn; She'll give you both your supper, And breakfast in the morn.
The little twin kids would know her voice, open the door in gladness, and eat a hearty supper, and after hearing a nice story from the Anzîyeh, (for so their mother was called), drop off to sweet sleep.
Now all things went on well for some time, until one day the Ghoul neighbor being very hungry for a supper of twin kids, came to the door of the cave and tried to push it open. But it was too strong for her, so she went away in perplexity. At length she thought she would sing to them the very song, which the Nanny Goat sang to them every evening on her return, so she sang it:
Hearken now Sunaisil, Come Rabab, my dear, etc., etc.
and when they heard this song, they opened the door with gladness to eat their supper, when suddenly the Ghoul sprang upon them with her huge mouth open, and swallowed them both down at once. She then shut the door and fastened it as it was before, and went on her way. At evening the Nanny Goat came home with milk and grass for her twin kids' supper, and knocked at the door and sang:
Hearken now Sunaisil, Come Rabab my dear, etc., etc.,
as usual, but no one opened the door. Then she knocked and sang again, and at length she gave up all hope of their opening the door, and butted against the door with her horns and broke it open. She then entered the cave but there were no twin kids there. All was still. Then she knew that the Ghoul had eaten them. So she hastened to the house of the Ghoul, and went upon the top of the house, and began to stamp and pound upon the roof. The Ghoul, hearing the stamping upon the roof, called out, whosoever stamps on my roof, may Allah stamp on his roof! The Nanny Goat replied, I am on your roof; I, whose children you have eaten. Come out now, and we will fight it out by butting our heads together. Very well, said the Ghoul, only wait a little until I can make me a pair of horns like you. So the goat waited, and away went the Ghoul to make her horns. She made two horns of dough and dried them in the sun until they were hard, and then came to "butt" with the goat. At the first shock, when the goat butted her with her horns, the horns of dough broke all to pieces; then the goat butted her again in her bowels and broke her in twain, and out jumped Sunaisil and Rabab, frisking and leaping and calling out "ya imme," oh, my mother, Oh, my mother! The Ghoul being dead they had no more fear, and lived long and happy lives with their mother the Anazîyeh.
* * * * *
Did you notice how the little boys listened to Saleh's story of the Goats and the Ghoul? This story is told by the mothers to their little children, all over Syria, in the tents of the Bedawîn and in the houses of the citizens. One of the women, named Noor, (_i.e._ Light), a sister of the bridegroom, says she will tell the children the story of the Hamam, the Butta, the Wez, and the Hamar, that is, of the Dove, the Duck, the Goose, and the Donkey, if all will sit still on the floor. So all the little boys and girls curl their feet under them and fold their arms, and Noor begins:
Once the Dove, the Duck, the Goose, and the Donkey joined company and agreed to live together. Then they took counsel about their means of living, and said, how long shall we continue in such distress for our necessary food? Come let us plough a piece of ground, and plant each one such seeds as are suited to his taste. So they ploughed a piece of ground and sowed the seed. The Goose planted rice, the Duck planted wheat, the Dove planted pulse, and the Donkey planted barley, and they stationed the Donkey on guard to watch the growing crop. Now when the seeds began to grow and flourish, and the Donkey looked upon it green and bright and waving in the wind, he arose and ate it all, and then went and threw himself into a ditch near by. Then came the Dove, the Goose, and the Duck to survey the growing crop, and lo and behold, it was all eaten up, and the ground was red and barren. Then said they, where is the Donkey whom we set on guard over our crop? They searched near and far, and at length they found him standing in the ditch, and they asked him where are the crops we so carefully planted and set you to watch? Then said the Donkey, the Bedawîn came with their flocks of sheep and pastured them on our crops, and when I tried to resist, they threw me into this ditch. Then they replied, it is false, you have eaten it yourself. He said, I did not. They said, yes, you did, for you are sleek and fat, and the contest waxed hot between them, until at length they all agreed to make each one swear an oath "by the life of the Lake," which was near at hand, and whoever swore the oath, and sprang into the Lake without falling, should be declared innocent. So the Dove went down first and said:
Ham, Ham, Ham, I am the Dove Hamam, Ham, Ham, Ham, My food is the plain Kotan, (pulse), Ham, Ham, Ham, If I ate the growing crop, May I suddenly throw it up! May Allah tumble me into the Lake, And none any news of me ever take!
Then the Dove leaped into the Lake, and flew to the limb of a tree on the shore, and was proved innocent.
Then the Duck went down and said:
But But, But, I am the Butta Duck, But, But, But, My food is wheat and muck; But, But, But, If I ate the growing crop, May I suddenly throw it up! May Allah tumble me into the Lake, And none any news of me ever take!
So the Duck leaped into the Lake, and then flew to the limb of a tree on the shore and was proved innocent.
Then the Goose went down and said:
Wez, Wez, Wez, I am the Goose and the Wez, Wez, Wez, Wez, I eat Egyptian riz, (rice), Wez, Wez, Wez, If I ate the growing crop, May I suddenly throw it up! May Allah tumble me into the Lake, And none any news of me ever take!
So the Goose leaped into the Lake and then flew to the limb of a tree on the shore and was proved innocent.
Then the Donkey went down and said:
Hak, Hak, Hak, I am the Donkey Jack, Hak, Hak, Hak, I barley eat by the sack: Hak, Hak, Hak, If I ate the growing crop, May I suddenly throw it up! May Allah tumble me into the Lake, And none any news of me ever take!
Then the Donkey leaped boldly into the Lake, and down he fell, and his feet stuck fast in the mud and mire. Then his three companions, seeing him proved guilty of the crime, flew away and left him to his fate. Then the Donkey began to "bray" for mercy, and called at the top of his voice:
Whoever will help me out of this plight, May eat my tail at a single bite! The Bear heard the braying, And without long delaying, He answered by saying: Long eared Donkey will you pay, Every word of what you say? If I save you by my might, Will you stand still while I bite? The lying Ass lay still, And answered, "Yes, I will." The Bear then gave a fearful roar, And dragged the Donkey to the shore, And said, I saved you from your plight, Now stand still, Donkey, while I bite! He said: Wait Bruin till I rest, And "smell the air" from East to West, And then I'll run with all my might, And turn my tail for you to bite! Then Bruin took him at his word Away he went swift as a bird, And called out, now Bruin, I will rest, I'll smell the air from East to West, I'm running now with all my might, I've "turned my tail" for you to bite! The Bear resolved in grief and pain, He'd never help an Ass again.
Abû Habeeb, who is just about to enter the college, has a story which all the Arabs know, and love to hear. It is called:
The Lion and Ibn Adam, that is, the Lion and Man, the son of Adam.
Once there was a Lion who had a son, and he always charged him, saying, my son, beware of Ibn Adam. But at length the old Lion died, and the young lion resolved that he would search through the world and see that wonderful animal called Ibn Adam, of whom his father had so often warned him. So out he went from his cave, and walked to and fro in the wilderness. At length he saw a huge animal coming towards him, with long crooked legs and neck, and running at the top of his speed. It was a Camel. But when the Lion saw his enormous size and rapid pace, he said, surely, this must be Ibn Adam himself. So he ran towards him and roared a fearful roar. Stop where you are! The Camel stopped, trembling with fear of the Lion. Said the Lion, are you Ibn Adam? No, said the Camel, I am a Camel fleeing from Ibn Adam. Said the Lion, and what did Ibn Adam do to you that you should flee from him? The Camel said, he loaded me with heavy burdens, and beat me cruelly, and when I found a fit chance, I fled from him to this wilderness. Said the Lion, is Ibn Adam stronger than you are? Yes indeed, many times stronger. Then the Lion was filled with terror, lest he too should fall into the hands of Ibn Adam, and he left the Camel to go his way in peace. After a little while, an Ox passed by, and the Lion said, _this_ must be Ibn Adam. But he found that he too was fleeing from the yoke and the goad of Ibn Adam. Then he met a Horse running fleet as the wind, and he said, this swift animal must be the famous Ibn Adam, but the Horse too was running away from the halter, the bridle the spur or the harness of the terrible Ibn Adam. Then he met a mule, a donkey, a buffalo and an elephant, and all were running in terror of Ibn Adam. The Lion thought what terrible monster must he be to have struck terror into all these monstrous animals! And on he went trembling, until hunger drove him to a forest to seek for prey to eat. While he was searching through the forest, lo and behold, a Carpenter was at work cutting wood. The Lion wondered at his curious form, and said, who knows but this may be Ibn Adam? So he came near and asked him saying, Are you Ibn Adam? He replied, I am. Then the Lion roared a fearful roar, and said, prepare for battle with the Lion, the king of beasts! Then Ibn Adam said: What do you want of me? Said the Lion, I want to devour you. Very well, said the Carpenter, wait until I can get my claws ready. I will go and take this wood yonder, and then I will return and fight you. If you kill me, eat me, and if I conquer you I will let you go, for we the sons of Adam do not eat the flesh of wild beasts, nor do we kill them, but we let them go. The Lion was deceived by those artful words, for he had seen the Camel and his companions running away, and he thought within himself, now, if Ibn Adam did really eat the flesh of beasts, he would not have let the Camel and the Horse, the Buffalo and the Mule escape into the desert. So he said to the Carpenter very well, I will wait for you to take the wood, and return with your claws. Not so, said the Carpenter, I am afraid that you will not wait for me. You are a stranger, and I do not trust your word. I fear you will run away before I return. Said the Lion, it is impossible that the Lion should run away from any one. Said the Carpenter, I cannot admit what you say, unless you will grant me one thing. And what is that, said the Lion. The Carpenter said, I have here a little rope. Come let me tie you to this tree until I return, and then I shall know where to find you. The Lion agreed to this plan, and the Carpenter bound him with ropes to the tree until he and the tree were one compact bundle. Then the Carpenter went away to his shop, and brought his glue pot, and filling it with glue and pitch boiled it over the fire. Then he returned and besmeared the Lion with the boiling mixture from his head to the end of his tail, and applied a torch until he was all in a flame from head to tail, and in this plight the Carpenter left him. Then the Lion roared in agony until the whole forest echoed the savage roar, and all the animals and wild beasts came running together to see what had happened. And when they saw him in this sad plight, they rushed to him and loosed his bonds, and he sprang to the river and extinguished the flames, but came out singed and scarred, with neither hair nor mane. Now when all the beasts saw this pitiable sight, they made a covenant together to kill Ibn Adam. So they watched and waited day and night, until at length they found him in the forest. As soon as he saw them, he ran to a lofty tree, and climbed to its very top, taking only his adze with him, and there awaited his fate. The whole company of beasts now gathered around the foot of the tree, and tried in vain to climb it, and after they walked around and around, at length they agreed that one should stand at the foot of the tree, and another on his back, and so on, until the upper one should reach Ibn Adam, and throw him down to the ground. Now the Lion whose back was burned and blistered, from his great fear of man demanded that he should stand at the bottom of the tree. To this all agreed. Then the Camel mounted upon the Lion's back, the Horse upon the Camel, the Buffalo upon the Horse, the Bear upon the Buffalo, the Wolf upon the bear, and the Donkey upon the Wolf, and so on in order, until the topmost animal was almost within reach of the Carpenter, Ibn Adam. Now, when he saw the animals coming nearer and nearer, and almost ready to seize him, he shouted at the top of his voice. Bring the glue pot of boiling pitch to the Lion! Hasten! Hasten! Now when the Lion heard of the boiling pitch, he was terrified beyond measure and leaped one side with all his might and fled. Down came the pile of beasts, tumbling in confusion, the one upon the other, and all lay groaning bruised and bleeding, some with broken legs, some with broken ribs, and some with broken heads. But as soon as the clamor of their first agony was over, they all called out to the Lion, why did you leap out and bring all this misery upon us! The Lion replied:
The story's point he never knew, Who never felt the burning glue!
Monsoor, who has just been to Damascus, says that if he can have another pipe, and a cup of Arab coffee, he will tell the story of the famous Jew Rufaiel of Damascus. So he begins:
The story of Rufaiel, the rich Jew of Damascus, and the Moslem Dervish.
Once there lived in Damascus a rich Jew named Rufaiel. He had great wealth in marble palaces and rich silk robes, and well stored bazaars, and his wife and daughters were clad in velvets and satins, in gold and precious stones. He had also great wit and cunning, and often helped his fellow Jews out of their troubles. Now the Pasha of Damascus was a Mohammedan, who had a superstitious fear of the holy Moslem Dervishes, and they could persuade him to tax and oppress the Jews in the most cruel manner. In those days there came to Damascus a holy Dervish who had long, uncombed black hair, and although he was a vile and wicked man, he made the people believe that he was a holy saint, and could perform wonderful miracles. The Pasha held him in great reverence, and invited him often to dinner, and when he came in, he would stoop and kiss the Dervish's feet! And what was most wonderful of all, the Dervish left Damascus every Thursday night after bidding the Pasha farewell, and journeyed to Mecca and returned in the morning and told the Pasha all the Mecca news and what he had seen and heard. This he did every week, though all wise men laughed at him, and said he only went out of the City Gate and slept in the gardens of Damascus!
Now the Dervish was a great enemy of the Jews. He hated them, cursed them, spat upon them, and called them infidel dogs, and he persuaded the Pasha to increase their taxes fourfold. Their sufferings now became very great. They had to sell their houses and furniture to pay the heavy taxes, and many were beaten and thrust into prison. So the leading Jews in their distress came to Rufaiel, and begged him to go to the Pasha and obtain relief for them and their families. He said he would think about the matter. So after they had gone, he called the chief jeweller and pipe maker of the city, and ordered them to make a long pipe of exquisite workmanship, with a stem of rosewood carved and inlaid with pearls, a bowl of pure gold set with diamonds, and a mouth-piece of gold and amber. Then he went one day to call on the Pasha, and made him a present of this elegant pipe, the like of which had never been seen in Damascus. The Pasha was greatly pleased and ordered all in his presence to retire that he might enjoy the society of Rufaiel, the munificent Jew. Then Rufaiel turned to the Pasha and said, "may your Excellency live forever! I have brought you this pipe as a faint token of my high esteem and affection, but I am filled with deepest sorrow that it is not perfect." "Not perfect?" said the Pasha. "In what respect could it be more perfect than what it is?" Said Rufaiel, "you will notice that between the amber and the gold of the mouth-piece a little ring is wanting. This ring was the very gem and excellence of the pipe. It was cut from the Black Stone of the Kaaba in Mecca, and has miraculous properties. But when the pipe was brought from Mecca, the ring was left with Mustafa, the jeweller, who is ready to send it by the first fit opportunity." "Alas," said the Pasha, "but how can we send for it now? The Pilgrim caravan has gone, and there will be none again for a year." "Oh," said Rufaiel, "this is easily arranged. To-day is Thursday, and to-night the holy Dervish will go to Mecca and return to-morrow morning. Your Excellency need only command him to bring the black ring, and before this time to-morrow the pipe will be complete in its beauty and excellency." "El Hamdû Lillah! Praise to Allah! It shall be done!" So when Rufaiel had gone, the Pasha summoned the Dervish, and told him of this wonderful pipe which had come to him from Mecca, and that it only needed the black ring to make it absolutely perfect, and that he was hereby commanded on pain of death to bring the ring from Mecca before Friday at the hour of noon prayer. The Dervish bowed most obeisantly and retired black in the face with rage and despair. But it occurred to him at once that none in Damascus but Rufaiel could have purchased such a pipe. So he left the City Gate, called the Bab Allah, or Gate of God, at sunset, bidding his friends farewell, and walked away in the gardens until night came on. Then, at the sixth hour of the night he returned by another gate, and crept along to the door of the mansion of Rufaiel. The door was opened, and Rufaiel received him with great politeness. The Dervish fell on the floor and kissed his feet and begged for his life. Said he, "give me that black ring which belongs to the Pasha's pipe, and we will be friends forever! Ask what you will and it shall be done to you. Only give me this ring." Said Rufaiel, "you have ruined my people with oppression, and now do you ask a favor?" "Yes," said the Dervish, "and you shall have any favor you ask." So Rufaiel thought to himself a moment, and then said, "I ask one thing. Do you obtain from the Pasha an order on all the tax collectors of Damascus, that when any Jew shall say, _I am one of the Seventy_, the collector shall pass him by, and no tax ever be demanded of him." "Done," said the Dervish, and embracing Rufaiel, he bade him good-night. Then in the morning he hastened in at Bab Allah, and presented the ring to the Pasha, who was so delighted that he granted his request, and orders were given that no tax should ever be collected from any Jew who should say "I am one of the Seventy." Then Rufaiel assembled all the Jews of Damascus, and bade them say to the tax-gatherers whenever they came, "_I am one of the Seventy_." So the Jews had rest from taxation, all the days of Rufaiel.
Saleh Bû Nusr, one of the best men in Mount Lebanon, and the father of Khalil, who brought us the list of Arab boys' games, has already told us the story of the Goats and the Ghoul, and he says that the savory odor of the egg plant being cooked for the wedding guests, reminds him of the story of the Badinjan or Egg Plant.
Once there was a great Emir or Prince who had a very abject and obsequious servant named Deeb (Wolf). One day Deeb brought to the Emir for his dinner a dish of stewed badinjan, which pleased the Emir so much that he complimented Deeb, and told him that it was the best dinner he had eaten for months. Deeb bowed to the earth and kissed the feet of the Emir, and said, "may God prolong the life of your excellency! Your excellency knows what is good. There is nothing like the badinjan. It is the best of vegetables. Its fruit is good, its leaf is good, its stalk is good, and its root is good. It is good roasted, stewed, boiled, fried, and even raw. It is good for old and young. Your excellency, there is nothing like the badinjan." Now the Emir was unusually hungry, and ate so bountifully of the badinjan that he was made very ill. So he sent for Deeb, and rebuked him sharply, saying, "you rascal, you Deeb, your name is Wolf, and you are rightly named. This badinjan which you praised so highly has almost killed me." "Exactly so," said Deeb, "may your excellency live forever! The badinjan is the vilest of plants. It is never eaten without injury. Its fruit is injurious, its leaf is injurious, its stalk is noxious, and its root is the vilest of all. It is not fit 'ajell shanak Allah,' for the pigs to eat, whether raw, roasted, stewed, boiled or fried. It is injurious to the young and dangerous to the old. Your excellency, there is nothing so bad as the badinjan! Never touch the badinjan!"--"Out with you, you worthless fellow, you Deeb! What do you mean by praising the badinjan when I praise it, and abusing it when it injures me?" "Ah, your excellency," said Deeb, "am I the servant of the badinjan, or the servant of your excellency? I must say what pleases you, but it makes no difference whether I please the badinjan or not."
The wedding party is now over, and the guests are departing. Each one on leaving says, "by your pleasure, good evening!" The host answers, "go in peace, you have honored us." The guests reply, "we have been honored, Allah give the newly married ones an arees," (a bridegroom). They would not dare wish that Shaheen and Handûmeh might some day have a little baby _girl_. That would be thought an insult.
We will walk up the hill to our mountain home, passing the fountain and the great walnut trees. Here comes a horseman. It is Ali, who has been spending a month among the Bedawin Arabs. He will come up and stay with us, and tell us of his adventures. He says that the Sit Harba, the wife of the great Arab Sheikh ed Dukhy, taught him a number of the Bedawin Nursery Songs, and although he is weary with his journey, he will repeat some of them in Arabic.
They are all about camels and spears and fighting and similar subjects, and no wonder, as they see nothing else, and think of nothing else.
To-morrow is the feast day, We've no "henna" on our hands; Our camels went to bring it, From far off distant lands; We'll rise by night and listen, The camel bells will ring; And say a thousand welcomes To those who "henna" bring.
And here is a song which shows that the Bedawin have the same habit of cursing their enemies, which we noticed in the Druze lullabys:
On the rose and sweetest myrtle, May you sleep, my eyes, my boy; But may sharpest thorns and briars, All your enemies destroy!
Ali says that one of the most mournful songs he heard in the desert was the following:
I am like a wounded camel, I grind my teeth in pain; My load is great and heavy, I am tottering again. My back is torn and bleeding, My wound is past relief, And what is harder still to bear, None other knows my grief!
The next is a song which the people sung in the villages on the borders of the desert. By "the sea" they mean the Sea of Galilee:
My companions three, Were fishing by the sea; The Arabs captured one, The Koords took his brother, In one land was I, My friends were in another.
I was left to moan, In sorrow deep and sad, Like a camel all alone, Departing to Baghdad; My soul I beg you tell me whether, Once parted friends e'er met together?
The Bedawin have as low an idea of girls as the Bedawin in the cities, and are very glad when a boy is born. Sometimes when the Abeih girls are playing together, you will hear a little girl call out, "it is very small indeed. Why it is a little wee thing, as small as was the rejoicing the day I was born!" But hear what the Bedawin women sing when a boy is born:
Mashallah, a boy, a _boy_! May Allah's eye defend him! May she who sees and says not _the Name_, Be smitten with blindness and die in shame!
How would you like to live among the Bedawin, and have a dusky Arab woman, clad in coarse garments, covered with vermin and odorous of garlic and oil, to sing you to sleep on a mat on the ground?
Hasten my cameleer, where are you going? It is eventide, and the camels are lowing: My house in a bundle I bear on my back, Whenever night comes, I my bundle unpack.
The next is a song of the pastoral Arabs:
Hasten my guide and lead us away, For we have fought and lost the day; To the well we went all thirsty and worn, The well was dry! and we slept forlorn.
The Bedawin came in battle array, Attacked us all famished at break of day And took all our camels and tents away!
Death enters the Bedawin tents as well as the palaces of kings and the comfortable homes of the people in Christian lands. But what desolation it leaves behind in those dark sorrowing hearts, who know nothing of the love of Jesus and the consolations of the gospel. This is a funeral song the poor Bedawin women sing over the death of a child:
Oh hasten my camel, begone, begone, Oh haste where your loved ones stay: There weep and lament. There my "spirit" is gone, Is gone to a night without day: Oh Star of the Morning, thou Star of the day, And Star of the Evening, both hasten away, And bring me a balm for my wounded heart, For I from my child, my "spirit" must part.
Soon may the "day dawn, and the day star arise" in their dark hearts, and Jesus the "Bright and Morning Star" be their portion forever!
The next song is about the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Thousands of Greeks, Armenians and Catholics go to Jerusalem every year to visit the "Holy Places," and get a certificate of the pardon of all their sins. The Greek Patriarch performs a lying imposture called the Holy Fire every year at Greek Easter, by lighting a candle with a match inside a dark room, and declaring that it is miraculously lighted by fire which comes forth from the tomb of Christ! So the poor Greek woman sings to her child:
Oh take me on a pilgrimage, Jerusalem to see: The Tomb of Christ and Holy fire, And Hill of Calvary: And then I'll to the Convent go, Ask pardon for my sin: And say, my Lady, now forgive, And comfort me again.
The next is really beautiful, and is good enough for any mother to sing to her child. It is a morning song:
Praise to Him who brings the light, And keeps the birds in darkest night. God is merciful to all, Rise ye men and on Him call! Allah praise in every lot, He keeps you and you know it not.
And this one too, about the little worms, is curious enough:
Praise to Him who feeds the worms, In the silent vale! Provides their portion every day, Protects them in the dangerous way. No doubt they praise Him too, and pray, In the silent vale!
When our good friend Yusef, whom we saw in Safita, asked the Nusairîyeh women to repeat to him their nursery rhymes, they denied that they had any. They were afraid to recite them, lest he write them down and use them as a magic spell or charm against them. When a child is born among them, no one is allowed to take a coal or spark of fire from the house for a week, lest the child be injured. They always hang a little coin around the child's neck to keep off eruptions and diseases from its body.
You must be weary by this time, after Handumeh's wedding and the story telling and the Bedawin songs. Let us retire to rest for the night, thankful for the precious Bible, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ. You are safe indeed in the hands of God, and need not fear the Ghoul nor the Bah'oo. Good night.
Such is life. Yesterday a wedding, and to-day a funeral. Do you hear that terrific wail, those shrieks and bitter cries of anguish? Young Sheikh Milham has died. The Druze and Christian women are gathered in the house, and wailing together in the most piteous manner. It is dreadful to think what sufferings the poor women must endure. They do everything possible to excite one another. They not only call out, "Milham, my pride, my bridegroom, star of my life, you have set, my flower, you have faded," but they remind each other of all the deaths that have occurred in their various families for years, and thus open old wounds of sorrow which time had healed. Yet they have regular funeral songs, and we will listen while they sing in a mournful strain:
Milham Beg my warrior, Your spear is burnished gold; Your costly robes and trappings, Will in the street be sold. "Where is the Beg who bore me?" I hear the armor crying-- Where is the lord who wore me? I hear the garments sighing.
Now Im Hassein from Ainab bursts out in a loud song, addressing the dead body, around which they are all seated on the ground:
Rise up my lord, gird on your sword, Of heavy Baalbec steel; Why leave it hanging on the nail? Let foes its temper feel! Would that the Pasha's son had died, Not our Barmakeh's son and pride!
Then Lemis answers in another song in which they all join:
Ten thousands are thronging together, The Beg has a feast to-day; We thought he had gone on a visit, But alas, he has gone to stay.
Then they all scream, and tear their hair and beat their breasts. Alas, they have no light beyond the grave. Who could expect them to do otherwise? The Apostle Paul urges the Christians "not to sorrow even as others which have no hope!" This is sorrow without hope. The grave is all dark to them. How we should thank our Saviour for having cast light on the darkness of the tomb, and given us great consolation in our sorrows! Here comes a procession of women from Kefr Metta. Hear them chanting:
I saw the mourners thronging round, I saw the beds thrown on the ground; The marble columns leaning, The wooden beams careening, My lord and Sheikh with flowing tears, I asked what was its meaning? He sadly beckoned me aside, And said, To-day _my son_ has died!
Then an old woman, a widow, who has been reminded of the death of her husband, calls out to him:
Oh, Sheikh, have you gone to the land? Then give my salams to my boy, He has gone on a long, long journey, And took neither clothing nor toy. Ah, what will he wear on the feast days, When the people their festal enjoy?
Now one of the women addresses the corpse:
Lord of the wide domain, All praise of you is true. The women of your hareem, Are dressed in mourning blue.
Then one sings the mother's wail:
My tears are consuming my heart, How can I from him bear to part. Oh raven of death, tell me why, You betrayed me and left him to die? Oh raven of death begone! You falsely betrayed my son! Oh Milham, I beg you to tell, Why you've gone to the valley to dwell? From far, far away I have come, Who will come now to take me back home?
Then rises such a wail as you never heard before. A hundred women all screaming together and then men are coming to take it away. The women hug and kiss the corpse, and try to pull it back, while the men drive them off, and carry it out to the bier. Some of the women faint away, and a piercing shriek arises. Then you hear the mother's wail again.
Then one sings the call of the dead man for help:
Oh ransom me, buy me, my friends to-day, 'Tis a costly ransom you'll have to pay, Oh ransom me, father, whate'er they demand, Though they take all your money and houses and land.
And another sings his address to the grave-diggers:
Oh cease, grave-diggers, my feelings you shock, I forbade you to dig, you have dug to the rock; I bade you dig little, you have dug so deep! When his father's not here, will you lay him to sleep?
Then a poor woman who has lately buried a young daughter begins to sing:
Oh bride! on the roofs of heaven, Come now and look over the wall: Oh let your sad mother but see you, Oh let her not vainly call! Hasten, her heart is breaking, Let her your smile behold; The mother is sadly weeping, The maiden is still and cold.
The Druzes believe that millions of Druzes live in China and that China is a kind of heaven. So another woman sings:
Yullah, now my lady, happy is your state! Happy China's people, when you reached the gate! Lady, you are passing, To the palace bright, All the stars surpassing, On the brow of night!
And now the body is taken to be buried, and the women return to the house, where the wailing is kept up for days and weeks. They have many other funeral songs, of which I will give two in conclusion:
Ye Druzes, gird on your swords, A great one is dead to-day; The Arabs came down upon us, They thought us in battle array, But they wept when they found us mourning, For our leader has gone away!
The next is the lament of the mother over her dead son:
The sun is set, the tents are rolled, Happy the mother whose lambs are in fold; But one who death's dark sorrow knew, Let her go to the Nile of indigo blue, And dye her robes a mourning hue!
And now, my dear boy, our Syrian journey is ended. You have seen and heard many strange things. Whatever is good among the Arabs, try to imitate; whatever is evil, avoid. Perhaps you will write to me some day, and tell me what you think of Syria and the Syrians. Many little boys and girls will read this long letter, but it is your letter, and I have written it for your instruction and amusement.
May the good Shepherd, who gave His life for the sheep, lead you beside the still waters of life, and at last when He shall appear, may He give you a crown of glory which fadeth not away!
THE END
INDEX.
Arabs of the Jahiliyeh, 1
Arabs of Kinaneh, 2
Arabic Proverbs, 3
Araman, Michaiel, 19, 99
Asîn Haddad, 101
Abu Selim, 138, 260
Abu Mishrik, 148
Aleppo, 151
Asur el Jedid, 168
American Seminary Abeih, 169
Anazy, 182
Arthington, Mr., 181, 184
Ali, 184, 359
Amount of Instruction, 57, 78, 81, 316
Abdullah Yanni, 220
Aintab, 88
Abu Asaad, 274, 276, 283
Abu Isbir, 281
Arab Camp, 295
Abdullamites, 298
Arkites, 262
Abu Hanna, 263
Asaad Mishrik, 233
Burying Alive, 1
Birth of Daughter, 28, 236
B'hamdûn, 93, 121
Bliss, Mrs. Dr., 104
Booth, Wm. A., 105, 106
Bird, Rev., 47, 48, 50, 58, 115
Bistany, Mr., 126, 134, 158, 200
Bedr, Rev. Yusef, 148
Belinda, 149
Bedawin Arabs, 180
British Syrian Schools, 84
Beattie, Rev., 41
Bird, Mrs., 50
Beit Beshoor, 274
Bells, 304
Bedawin Songs, 360
Carabet Melita, 62, 65, 67, 153
Cheney, Miss, 74, 81, 97
Carruth, Miss, 104
Calhoun, Mrs., 79, 114, 197
Crawford, Mrs., 204
Church of Scotland Schools for Jewish Girls, 214
Carabet, Bishop Dionysius, 49
Convent of the Sacred Fish, 296
Camels, 245
Divorce, 14, 17, 29, 37
Druze, 20
Dodds, Dr., 39
De Forrest, Dr., 23, 33, 73, 75, 134, 298
Dales, Miss, 204
Department of Women's Work, 219
Dodge, Dr., 50
Dodge, Mrs., 50, 52, 53
Dog River, 312
El Khunsa, the poetess, 4
Education of Girls, 18, 19
Everett, Miss, 103
Early Age of Marriage, 117
Eddy, Mr., 151
El Hakem, 331, 22
Evil Eye, 336
Female Prayer-Meeting, 56, 74
Ford, Mr., 126, 151, 156
French Lazarist School, 169
Francis Effendi Merrash, 91
Fast of Ramadan, 306
Feller's Soap, 328
Funerals, 316, 364
Female Seminary, Beirût, 222, 315
Fruits, 255
Fisk, Rev. Pliny, 47
Greek School Suk el Ghurb, 169
Ghubrin Jebara, 173
Goodell, Mrs., 50
Games, 319
Greek Priests, 259
Goodell, Dr., 47, 48
Houris, 10
Hamzé, 20
Hala of Abeih, 29
Hammûd, 39
Hums, 140
Hassan, 198
Hicks, Miss, 206
Howe, Fisher, 76, 80
Haj Ibraham, 297
Ishoc, 149, 263
Irish-American United Presbyterian Mission in Damascus, 204
Ishmaelitic Songs, 326
Imprecations, 326
Johnson, Miss, 97
Jacombs, Miss, 98, 225
Jackson, Miss Ellen, 104
Jenan, 136, 162, 165, 191
Jenneh, 136
Jeneineh, 136
Jesuit School Ghuzir, 169
Job, 229
Khozma Ata, 33, 75
Katrina Subra, 93, 95
Koukab es Subah, 33, 126
Koran, 1, 2, 11, 126, 297
Khalil Effendi, 167
Khalil Ferah, 286
King, Dr. Jonas, 47, 48
Latakiah Boarding School, 42
Loring, Miss Sophia, 104
Luciya, Shekkur, 114
Lyde, Mr., 38, 39
Lying, 284
Lullaby, 294
Letters, 311
Lokunda, 242
Moslem Paradise for Women, 10
Moslem Idea of Women, 12, 17
Moulah Hakem, 22, 331
Massacres of 1860, 24, 95, 196, 286
Marriage Ceremony of Druzes, 25
Marie, 43
Maronites, 45
Mason, Miss, 97
Meshakah, Dr., 118
Miriam the Aleppine, 15
Modern Syrian Views, 158
Moslem Schools, 168, 253
Miss Taylor's School Moslem Girls, 213
Methak en Nissa, 21
Metheny, Dr., 40
Manger, 265
Missionary Stations, 249
Miriam, 279, 282
Monasteries, 309
Marriage, 338, 117, 143
Mohammed ed Dukhy, 182, 189, 246
Naman, King of Hira, 3
Nusairîyeh, 35
Nusairîyeh Women, 38
Nejm, 110
Naame Tabet, 201
Nowar, 286
Nursery Songs, 325
Names, 242, 244
Othman, 2
Okkal, 24
Oulad el Arab, 46
Poetesses of Arabs, 6
Position of Woman in Mohammedan World, 7
Prussian Deaconess' Institute Beirût, 206
Post, Dr., 29
Praying, 305
Parsons, Rev. Levi, 47
Qualifications for Missionaries, 53
Rakâsh, the Poetess, 6
Rufka, Gregory, 60, 97, 99, 102, 138, 175, 277
Resha, 110
Raheel, 120
Ruella Arabs, 184
Sa Saah, 3
Schwire, 10
Sheikh Owad, 16
Sheikh Said el Ghur, 19
Sheikh Khottar, 31
Sheikh Mohammed ed Dukhy, 182, 189, 246
Sheikh Aiub el Hashem, 288
Sitt Abla, 30
Syrian Christianity, 46
Stale of Mission in 1828, 49, --1834, 51, 53, --1841, 55, --1846, 57 --1852, 75, --1864, 101
Seclusion of Oriental Females, 52
Sada Gregory, 18, 61, 70
Superstitions, 77, 317, 318, 336
Sada Barakat, 84
Stanton, Miss, 98
Sada el Haleby, 84, 100, 115
Sara Bistany, 101, 136
Smith, Dr., 50, 127
Sarkis, Mr. Ibraham, 127
Sulleba Jerwan, 142
Sara Huntington Bistany, 157
Sitt Mariana Merrash, 162
Sitt Wustina Mesirra, 165
Schools of Syria, 169, 171
Sitt Harba, 183, 185, 359
Safita, 277, 285, 302, 334
Seven Arbitrary Pillars of the Law, 22
Suggestions to Friends of Missions, 224
Sidon Female Seminary, 225
Saad-ed-Deen, 67
Sphere and Mode of Woman's Work, 218
Syed Abdullah, 288
Swine, 306
Story of the Goats and the Ghoul, 343
Story of the Hamam, Butta, etc., 346
Story of the Lion and Ibn Adam, 350
Story of the Jew Rufaiel, 354
Story of the Badinjan, 358
Shepherds, 313
Swearing, 240
Soum el Kebir, 260
Smith, Mrs., 27, 50, 120
Syrian School-Houses, 235
Tribe of Temîm, 3
Triangle of Solomon, 36
Temple, Miss, 97
Thomson, Dr., 48, 100, 123
Thomson, Miss Emilia, 104
Tod, Mrs. Alexander, 122
Thompson, Mrs. Bowen, 208
Thomson, Mrs., 50
Telegraph, 310
Tilden, 33, 54, 60
Van Dyck, 31, 107, 117, 127, 172
Value Set on Woman's Life, 196
Wahidy, 19
Women's Work, 1820 to 1872, 45
Wortabet, Salome, 49, 64
Whittlesey, Mrs. A.L., 74, 78
Watson, Mrs., 98, 204
Women's Boards of Missions, 104
Whiting, Mrs., 31, 57, 63, 125
Wilson, Rev. D.M., 83, 142
Werdeh, 156
Wortabet, Rev. John, 202
Whiting, Rev., 50, 58, 61
Waly, 291
Wortabet, Gregory, 49, 51
Williams, Miss Rebecca, 52, 55
Yusef Jedid, 40
Yusef Ahtiyeh, 278, 281
Yanni, 237, 254, 256, 289, 300, 309
Yusef Keram, 301
Zarifeh, the Poetess, 6
Zeyarehs, 37, 268
Zahara, 39
Zarify, 110
Zahidy, 287
Transcriber's Notes:
Replaced "Beirut" with "Beirût" for consistency throughout the book. Replaced "Nusairiyeh" with "Nusairîyeh" for consistency throughout the book. Page 147: Added opening parenthesis before "etc., etc." Page 206: Changed Aitah to Aitath. Page 273: Changed Inshallah to Inshullah. Page 311: Changed Mushullah to Mashallah. Page 370: Changed Abdulla Yanni to Abdullah Yanni.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Women of the Arabs, by Henry Harris Jessup