Ramadan Kareem
We know a chest was found in the house of Fatima, Halima and Karima last night, we will know tonight if the Dervish, Abu Farag, who spoke about a treasure in their house, meant that box or not
But first, there is the little chitchat before the episode.
You will hear tonight in Arabic this famous Egyptian Proverb “The house is our father’s house, and strangers are driving us out”.
It has a very interesting tale despite being straightforward. First of all, it is not a pure Egyptian exclusive proverb. It is shared across the Arab world but in different versions. This proverb is used to protest when someone is unfairly denied what is rightfully theirs.
Like in Iraq, "The House is Our Father's, Yet Strangers fight Us for It", and it has a background story unlike the Egyptian version.
Once upon a time a merchant’s daughter caught the eye of a prince, who tricked her into a kiss in the dark. When she later realized his deception, she plotted revenge. Disguising herself as a fortune teller, she was called to treat the prince’s mysterious illness. During the treatment, she secretly humiliated him, leaving him bewildered.
The prince later married her but, still bitter over her trick, refused to treat her well. He gave her little food, but she secretly used a tunnel her father had built between their homes to visit her family and eat well.
During a hunting trip, she disguised herself as a man and set up camp opposite the prince’s. He challenged her to a game of chess, wagering a servant as the prize. Losing on purpose, she sent herself to his tent, now in her true form, and spent the night with him, keeping his token as proof. She later bore him a son.
Years later, she repeated the same trick, bearing him a daughter. Both children were raised in her father’s house.
When the prince took a second wife, she sent their children to the palace, instructing them to break things and shout, "The house is our father’s, yet strangers fight us for it!" The commotion drew the prince’s attention, and when he recognized the tokens and the children calling their mother, he realized the truth.
Overcome with emotion, he abandoned his second wife and chose to remain with his first wife and their children.
This is a very short version, but the long version, I can tell you that the merchant’s daughter had a hobby to humiliate the prince, despite she loved him.
Now we will leave this tale and go back to our main tale, the tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima.
So without further delay, here is the 684th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 12th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Episode 12th: The Treasure Unearthed
When the 684th night arrived, King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before, and Scheherazade entered at the appointed hour. The chamber lit up with the radiance of her beauty, and the air filled with the fragrance of her presence. She resumed her tale in her warm, honeyed voice, saying:
"It has reached me, O wise and noble king, that Reema emerged from the crime with a newfound standing. The household had changed, for she had rid herself of Kaab al-Ghazal, and with that, the balance of power shifted. She now claimed her share in the house, and greed stirred within her heart. So she ordered Meshkah to bring a pickaxe and dig beneath the foundation, searching for the fabled treasure that had long captured the imagination of the people.
As for the three sisters, the burden of events weighed heavily upon them. Reema soon returned to her old ways, treating them with cold indifference, wounding their hearts with harsh words, and demanding that they work to secure their daily bread. They spun their yarn diligently, and each day, one of them would venture to the market to sell their thread to those who would buy, returning with what provisions they could afford. But upon arrival, Reema would scrutinize every coin, count every cost, and leave them empty-handed.
And so it was, as she haggled with Karima over the day's earnings, that a sudden cry rang through the house—followed by frantic shouting. A familiar voice rose above the commotion.
“The treasure! The treasure has appeared!”
It was Meshkah.
Startled, everyone rushed toward him, hearts pounding in disbelief. He stood over the pit he had dug, eyes wide, voice trembling with excitement.
“Reema! The treasure is here! It's here at last!”
They gathered around, gazing in astonishment. Before them, half-buried in the earth, was an old chest, its wooden edges peeking out from the dust.
“Look, Reema! It’s a chest of real worth! It’s been waiting all these years, hidden beneath our feet,” Meshkah exclaimed, gripping his pickaxe.
“Well, don’t just stand there!” Reema snapped. “Clear the dirt around it! Hurry up, all of you!”
The sisters scrambled to help, brushing away the soil with eager hands.
“Can you lift it?” Reema demanded.
Meshkah tried, but the chest was heavy.
“Give me a hand!” he called out. “It’s lodged deep—help me pull it free!”
“Come on, Meshkah! You’re not carrying a mountain!” Reema snapped. “Move the dirt around it first—yes, like that! Now lift!”
The sisters hurried to assist. With one final heave, the chest broke free from the earth.
“Easy! Careful, Karima!” Meshkah warned.
Karima pulled back, eyeing the chest warily. “Is this really the treasure?” she murmured.
Meshkah exhaled, stepping aside. “Here it is, Reema,” he said, almost reverently.
Reema’s eyes gleamed. “Finally! At last, my patience has paid off! My days of waiting are over—this is the treasure hidden since the time of Qarun himself!”
She reached out to open the chest, but Karima caught her hand. “Wait! Shouldn’t we—”
Reema swatted her away. “Don’t you dare touch it before me!” she snapped.
She pressed her hands on the lid, ready to pry it open—
“No! Stop!” Karima cried. “We don’t know what’s inside!”
But Reema only turned to glare at them, her voice sharp and commanding.
“No one lays a finger on this but me! Step back! The treasure has been buried for centuries—I won’t let anyone snatch it from me now!”
"Open it, Meshkah! Come on, hurry!" Reema ordered.
Meshkah fumbled with the chest, squinting in the dim light. "I can’t see properly, Reema!"
“What are you searching for?” Reema snapped impatiently.
“The chest has no key,” Meshkah muttered.
“You’re always clueless! Bring the axe, girls—let’s pry it open.”
One of the sisters hesitated. “But shouldn’t we see what’s inside first?”
Meshkah scoffed. “You’ll see soon enough—just hold your tongue!”
Reema turned to glare at him. “Hold my tongue? I’ll grind yours if you don’t hurry up!” She waved her hand. “Enough talking—open it!”
Meshkah lifted the lid. They all leaned in, eyes widening as they beheld the contents.
A stunned silence filled the room.
“What... what is this?” one of the sisters whispered.
Inside the chest lay nothing but an old wooden tablet, covered in faded inscriptions.
Reema’s face darkened. “Hand it to me, Meshkah!”
Meshkah passed it over. She squinted at the engraved words, reading aloud:
“The greatest treasure... is the wealth of the soul. Contentment is the best fortune.”
Reema’s hands trembled with rage. “A treasure? This?! This is the ‘greatest treasure’?!”
She let out a bitter laugh, her voice rising with fury. “You fools! You cursed fools! Where do I go from here? What have I done to deserve this? I wasted my time, my energy—my entire life—only to end up with a worthless inscription!”
One of the sisters murmured, “But... isn’t this what the dervish warned us about?”
Reema turned on her heel. “A dervish? You expect me to listen to a dervish? ‘Those who search will not find’—what nonsense! Abu Farrag was right: ‘The world gives nothing to those in need.’ Everything is lost—the treasure is lost, Kaa'b Al-Ghazal is gone... and now, I have nothing left!”
She took a deep breath, then suddenly declared, “I’m marrying Meshkah.”
Karima gasped. “Meshkah, the gravedigger?!”
Reema smirked. “Gravedigger or not, he’s still better than you! A thousand times better than all of you! That was the worst day of my life—the day I met you lot. Take your ‘treasure’ and choke on it!”
Fatima hesitated. “But, Aunt Reema... what about the fortune? The wealth? The men to protect us?”
Reema scoffed. “There is no fortune. No wealth. No men. Nothing! So I’ll take Meshkah and go to the priest. We’ll be married, and he’ll stay here, with me, in my house. This house—my house! And we’ll start over—just the two of us.”
Meanwhile, Karima and Halima were wondering how things went from bad to worse in their own home.
"Who would have thought Aunt Rima would do this to us?" Karima asked.
"As if it weren’t enough that this was our father’s house, and now strangers are driving us out!" Halima added bitterly.
"She hasn’t thrown us out yet," Karima reassured. "But if she brings Mishkah back and forces him to live here with us, then what?"
"Our sister Fatima thought it was a bad idea from the start," Halima said. "Honestly, I had my doubts too. I never trusted her. Something about her was off—just appearing in our lives like that after our mother died, with all the rumors that preceded her. How did she fool Father so easily? But now she’s shown her true colors."
"Only now do I truly see her treachery," Halima agreed. "She never cared for us. The way she looked at that treasure…! Oh, Father, you’re the one who brought her into our lives."
"Don’t blame him," Karima sighed. "He asked us about her, and we said we couldn’t live without her. He trusted our judgment. Oh, Father, if only you could see the mess we’re in now!" The two sisters burst into tears.
Meanwhile, Rima paced impatiently. "Why is Mishkah taking so long?" she muttered.
Karima glanced at her. "Rima is asking about him."
Rima turned to them. "What are you all doing? And why are you crying?"
"Everyone has their burdens," Karima replied cryptically.
"I just don’t understand why Mishkah is so late today," Rima repeated.
"Maybe marriage doesn’t suit him," Karima suggested.
Rima scoffed. "He should be grateful. A man like him would never dream of such luck! He’s barely respectable as it is."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
"There he is!" Rima exclaimed. "Go open it, Karima."
But Halima hesitated. "Aunt Rima, there’s something we need to discuss—"
"Not now, Halima!" Rima snapped. "Karima, who is it?"
Karima peered outside. "It’s our sister, Fatima."
Rima’s expression darkened. "What do you want, Fatima?"
Fatima stepped in, breathless. "Aunt Rima… you won’t believe what happened!"
Rima crossed her arms. "Where’s the rest of the money?"
"There’s nothing left," Fatima admitted.
"What do you mean, nothing? Where is it?"
Fatima hesitated. "The dervish took it."
Karima’s eyes widened. "What dervish?"
Rima’s patience snapped. "And what about the rest of the money from the sale?"
Fatima sighed. "Won’t you just listen to me for once?"
Rima scowled. "Show me what you bought, then!"
Fatima laid out her purchases. "Here’s the wool… and the bread."
Karima frowned. "That’s it? That’s all you got?"
"Yes," Fatima confirmed. "That’s all I could bring back."
Rima’s face twisted in fury. "And what about the oil?"
"I… I didn’t buy any," Fatima admitted.
Karima’s voice grew sharp. "Then how will we light the lamps in the house?"
Rima added, "And how do you expect to work at night without light?"
Fatima tried to explain. "If you’d just let me—"
Rima clutched her head in despair. "Oh, what a disaster! What a disaster!"
Fatima pleaded, "Aunt Rima, why won’t you just listen to me?"
Karima turned to her sister. "What happened, Fatima?"
Fatima hesitated. "I… when I—"
But Rima cut her off, exclaiming, "What am I supposed to do with you now?!"
Karima stepped forward. "Aunt Rima, at least let her speak!"
Rima narrowed her eyes. "Oh, now the truth comes out. I want to know everything—where you were, what you did with my money, who you met, why you didn’t buy oil, and what you spent the rest on!"
Fatima took a deep breath. "I want to tell you everything."
Karima and Halima exchanged glances before urging, "Then tell us, sister."
Fatima raised a hand. "First, say the name of God."
Together, Rima, Karima, and Halima recited, "There is no god but God."
And so, Fatima began her tale. The three women leaned in, their curiosity burning as she uttered,
And here, Scheherazade realized the dawn had come, and she fell silent, leaving the tale untold.
Here is the 12th episode of our tale televised
Till next night inshallah
You can check previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.
In the spirit of Ramadan, I invite you to support UNICEF’s relief efforts in Gaza and Sudan as well as other places in the globe. Every pound, dollar, or euro can make a difference.
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