Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025 : The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “The girls’ house ” EP.6

Ramadan Kareem

Before we find out how Reema will truly turn the lives of Fatima, Halima, and Karima upside down after entering their world as a caring mother figure, let’s have a little chitchat about Reema—the one who always returns to her old ways, her old wicked ways.

Taher Abu Fasha was not just a gifted storyteller but also a master of folklore, deeply celebrating Egyptian and Arabic proverbs and traditions.

Abu Fasha deliberately chose Reema from the well-known Egyptian proverb, "Reema has returned to her old ways." Like most things in Egypt, this proverb has a long and surprising history.

Interestingly, it is not purely an Egyptian proverb but rather an Arab saying with multiple versions and different heroines across the region.

Originally, it was “Halima has returned to her old ways” in Levant, but  according to the book 1000 Proverbs and Sayings, the proverb was altered in Egypt, becoming "Reema has returned to her old habit." The book describes it as "a well-known and widely used proverb with a famous story behind it, encouraging people not to revert to bad habits and traditions." 

Additionally, the 1949 book The Encyclopedia of Egyptian Folk Proverbs “Most important guide for Egyptian proverbs” mentions three variations of the proverb which are: "Reema has returned to her old habit.", "Halima has returned to her old habit." and "Salima has returned to her old habit."

The book explains that Reema could be a female name or simply used for the sake of rhyme. The meaning behind the proverb is that "nature prevails over nurture", implying that when a person attempts to change their habits, they often struggle to do so.

According to the 1971 book Lest It Be Lost (Lialla Tadi’a), another version of the proverb's origin story traces back to Halima, the wife of Hatim al-Tai. Hatim al-Tai was a Pre-Islamic Arab poet and nobleman in Arabia famous for his unparalleled generosity, while Halima, in contrast, was known for her extreme frugality.

It is said that whenever she added butter to her cooking, her hand would tremble from reluctance. Wanting to teach her generosity, Hatim told her that the ancients believed every spoonful of butter added to a dish would grant a person an extra day of life. Encouraged by this idea, Halima began adding more butter to her food, eventually becoming accustomed to generosity. However, when her only son—whom she deeply loved—passed away, she was overcome with grief and wished for death. In her despair, she started reducing the amount of butter in her cooking, hoping that by doing so, her life would be shortened. Observing this, people said: "Halima has returned to her old ways."

According to the 15th century book Thamarat Al-Awraq by Ibn Hujjah al-Hamawi, Halima al-Zanariyah was a courtesan in Ayyubid Cairo who repented, adopting a life of piety. She abandoned music and wine, dedicating herself to prayer. However, her resolve waned, and one spring day, she returned to her old ways, prompting people to say: "Halima has returned to her old habits."

According to the 1985 book, Beirut Proverbs in the Context of Lebanese Proverbs (Al-Amthila Al-Bayrutiyya fi Siyaq Al-Amthila Al-Lubnaniyya), offers a different explanation. It states that Halima was a kind-hearted woman but inherently lazy and lacking ambition. Her husband constantly urged her to work, and while she would momentarily comply, she would soon revert to her idle habits. When this cycle repeated itself too many times, her husband finally remarked: "Halima has returned to her old ways."

Enough chitchat about Reema’s origins—let us now tune in and see what Reema is up to.

Here is the 678th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show or the sixth night in our tale for this year, the Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima.

Episode Six: The girl’s house

And so, at the appointed hour, Scheherazade arrived, greeting the King with a smile and offering him salutations of peace. Then, she opened for him the gates of dreams and resumed her tale:

"Know, O wise and fortunate King, that greed seldom gathers much, and when the nature of a soul is vile, it leaves the worst of impressions. And so, it was with Reema, an old woman most wretched and mean-spirited. She was possessed of an ill habit, for she did ill to those who did her well, and such was her nature that she became the subject of proverbs. As the saying goes: ‘Reema returns to her old ways.’

Now, Reema was wedded to Mishkah, a grave robber who made his living by plundering the dead. That very day, he returned to her with the spoils of his wicked trade, but instead of greeting him with gratitude, she met him with blame. Harsh words were exchanged, their quarrel flared into a great dispute, and in her wrath, Reema cast the word of divorce upon him and went about her business, relieved of her husband at last.

Yet scarcely had she turned away when a sudden knock sounded upon the door. She halted in her steps, set aside what was in her hands, and hastened to answer.

"Who knocks?" she called. "Would you have me knock you back?"

"Reema, is that how you welcome me? Since when do you turn me away?"

She peered through the doorway and saw, to her surprise, Mishkah standing before her.

"You? Why have you come?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"To understand!" he replied. "Why have you cast me aside? What wrong have I done?"

"Wrong? You ask what wrong?" she scoffed. "Have I ever questioned you? Have I ever demanded to know what is yours and what is mine? Yet you betray the very corpses we rob, the graves we open. And now you ask why?"

"All that I have done, I have done for you, Reema! Would you cast me off so cruelly?"

"I had no choice," she murmured.

"No choice?" he repeated, bewildered. "Tell me, then—what has compelled you?"

Reema took a breath and, with a sly glint in her eye, said: "You know of the house of Ka‘b al-Ghazal?"

"Ka‘b al-Ghazal?" he echoed. "The merchant whose home is said to hold untold treasure? The very one I wished to buy but could not?"

"That very house," she confirmed. "Tonight, it shall be ours."

Mishkah’s eyes widened. "How?"

"I shall wed Ka‘b al-Ghazal."

At this, Mishkah laughed heartily. "Ha! And I wondered at your sudden turn! Now all is clear!"

"Indeed, it is. But do not question what is not your concern. Have I not already cast my net around him? By tomorrow, he shall be ensnared."

"And what have you done?"

"Upon the death of his wife, I reached out to his daughters—Fatima, Halima, and KaReema. I shall visit them, tend to their home, fill their lamps with oil, cook their meals, wash their garments. I shall weave my way into their hearts and wind them about my fingers. And once I have them in my grasp, I shall make of them a ladder to climb to their father. And when the time is ripe…" She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "We shall rid ourselves of Ka‘b al-Ghazal, dispatch his daughters, and Reema shall return to her old ways."

Mishkah grinned. "I have no more questions."

"Then all is well?" she asked.

"All is well indeed!"

"Good. Then be off."

"And if I wish to see you?"

"You shall find a way."

And so, with a wicked smile, Reema sent Mishkah away, while in her heart, she wove schemes anew…

Thus, Ka‘b al-Ghazal returned home, weary from the toil of the marketplace, yet his heart was lightened at the sight of his daughters, who hastened to greet him.

"Unbolt the door, Fatima!" he called.

"At once, Father," she answered, rushing to do his bidding.

"Peace be upon you, my children," he said as he stepped within.

"And upon you be peace, Father! But why have you tarried so long?" Halima inquired with a tone of concern.

"Come hither, Fatima," said Ka‘b al-Ghazal, placing in her hands the bundles he had brought. "Take these, my daughter. Now, where is my kiss?"

"Oh, Father, you jest with me!" Fatima replied, lowering her gaze in modesty.

"And why should I not, my dear one? Come now, my children, let me embrace you!" he said, gathering them in his arms.

"But tell us, Father, why have you been so delayed?" Halima pressed once more.

"Ah, my daughter," he sighed, "the marketplace is a capricious thing, ruled by chance and circumstance. Yet, by the grace of the Almighty, men deal with me in kindness. I sell to them the yarn we spin, and in exchange, I purchase wool. And after much roaming, bargaining, and trade, I have brought you bread and oil."

"Bread and oil!" Fatima exclaimed with delight.

"And after taking my fill, I hastened home. But tell me, my daughters, have you not perceived the house?"

"Indeed, Father, it gleams with cleanliness!"

"And behold the yarn we have spun," Fatima added.

"All this, my child? Verily, the Lord softens hearts toward us."

"Yet, Father, we labor much," Halima sighed. "Our late mother once bore the greater share of our burden."

"But you take no notice of the house’s order, nor of the lamp, whose oil was spent but yesterday!" Fatima declared.

"Spent? Then bring it forth. But tell me, why, Fatima?"

"Come, Halima, take this pot of grains," Fatima instructed.

"What matter is this, KaReema?" Ka‘b al-Ghazal inquired.

"It is the blessing of Aunt Reema!" KaReema replied.

"Reema, say you? Ah, indeed! She is of a noble heart and generous hand."

"She came again today, Father," Halima said.

"Even now?"

"Indeed."

"And for what cause, my daughter?"

"She brought us these provisions. Each day, she comes to look upon us and to ask what we require."

"But wherefore?"

"God softens hearts toward us," KaReema murmured.

"Yet this is a strange thing," he mused.

"Perhaps she was dear to our mother," KaReema suggested. "Perhaps she was much maligned."

"Much maligned?"

"Indeed, Father. You know well how the tongues of men wag without restraint."

"You speak truly," he conceded. "In any case, may God requite her with goodness. But come, let us not tarry in speech, for neither have we bought nor have we sold!"

"Yes, Father," Fatima agreed. "Come now, partake of what has been set before you."

"In the name of God!" Ka‘b al-Ghazal intoned, and so they sat and partook of their meal, as the night wrapped them in its embrace.

And so it was that Ka‘b al-Ghazal stood before a group of men, their eyes gleaming with avarice, their tongues honeyed with persuasion.

"Laugh as you wish," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "but neither shall I sell, nor shall you buy!"

"Come now, O Ka‘b al-Ghazal," one of them coaxed. "Will you not accept two hundred?"

"Two hundred? Even if you offered me two thousand, I would not part with my home! Tell me, where would I go if I sold my house for such a sum?"

"But you shall buy another in its stead!"

"And what of that?"

"Then take a thousand riyals!"

"That is beyond reason!"

"What is to be done with you, O Ka‘b al-Ghazal?" the man sighed, shaking his head.

"Spare yourself the trouble, my friend," Ka‘b al-Ghazal replied with a wry smile.

"But listen to me—"

"Listen to whom? To those who spread false tidings? May God reward the tongues that sow such rumors!"

"For ever since they spoke of that fabled treasure," Ka‘b al-Ghazal continued, "my house has known no peace, with men flocking to buy it as though gold lay buried beneath its stones!"

"But tell us, then—why do you refuse to sell?"

"And why should I sell?" he retorted. "Shall I part with the very roof that shelters me and my daughters?"

"But you shall have another in its place—"

"Ha! Is it that you think me one who delights in spinning thread and plying the spindle, while his daughters sit beside him in want? Do you believe me to be blind to fortune when I possess wealth enough to sustain me all my days?"

"If not for yourself, then think of your daughters!"

"Enough!" Ka‘b al-Ghazal cried. "Hear me well—I have no time for your schemes, nor patience for your words. Peace be upon you!"

"Wait, O Ka‘b al-Ghazal—"

"Leave me be, that I may eat in peace, for my children await me!"

And so, Ka‘b al-Ghazal turned away, calling out, "Fatima! Halima! And you, ever talkative Karima—open the door for me!"

But even as he entered, another voice called out—

"It is I, Reema! Open the door, Halima! Karima, do not tarry!"

And thus, Reema continued upon her course, ever patient, ever watchful, awaiting the moment when Ka‘b al-Ghazal would depart, so that she might draw near to his daughters. She wove herself into their lives, speaking to them with honeyed words, offering them aid, comforting them with weeping eyes, until at last, the daughters of Ka‘b al-Ghazal were ensnared in her web.

And at that moment, O my lord—

And here, Scheherazade realized the dawn had come, and she fell silent, leaving the tale untold.

Here is the 6th episode of our tale televised.

Till next night inshallah

You can check previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.

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