Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025 : The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “Thus came Reema” EP.5

Ramadan Kareem.

Before we tune in to Scheherazade to find out what the Sultan did with the mysterious fair maiden—the one who owns the palace that appeared out of nowhere and refuses to be questioned in her domain—let’s have a little chitchat, as usual.

In the televised adaptation of our tale, Zouzou Nabil, our original radio Scheherazade, will appear as Reema. I won’t give away any spoilers about Reema just yet.

Legendary Zouzou Nabil in 1947-Ahkam Al-Arab film "The Arab rulings" 

Born in 1920, Aziza or Zouzou Nabil portrayed Scheherazade for more than 23 years on our radio show, which was produced by Egyptian State TV.

Though she was never a leading lady in cinema or television, Zouzou Nabil appeared in 80 films between 1939 and 1996 and 72 TV series from 1962 to 1996, including seven adaptations of One Thousand and One Nights.

Here’s a little piece of information I only recently learned: Zouzou Nabil had one son, who was killed in the October 1973 war.

Enough of the chitchat—now, let’s tune in to Zouzou Nabil, the legendary voice of Scheherazade, in the fifth episode of our tale this year, or the 677th episode of the beloved radio show.

Episode 5: Thus Came Reema

When it was the seventy-seventh night after the six-hundredth, Shahryar took his seat upon the throne of judgment and called for Scheherazade, who appeared before him with her grace and charm. And when she had taken her usual place, she began to narrate:

"It has been told, O King of Time and Knower of the Ages, that driven by curiosity and the desire to uncover the unknown, the Sultan and his vizier, disguised as merchants, ventured to the mysterious palace. Upon arrival, they were greeted with courtesy by the princess who ruled over it. 

She warmly welcomed them but imposed a strict condition: they must not ask any questions. However, the Sultan, compelled by his nature, posed a query, and her demeanor shifted. Anger flared within her, and she ordered the gatekeeper to escort them out. Thus, they left as they had come, their confusion only deepened by what they had seen and heard. That night, the Sultan lay awake, consumed by thoughts of the palace’s secrets, unable to find peace.

When the morning came, bright and radiant, the Sultan summoned his vizier and Prince Wardan to discuss the matter. Between curiosity and concern, their conversation unfolded as follows:

Prince Wardan spoke, 'My Sultan, when we first encountered the princess and her palace, I believed Murjan would uncover her secrets and return with news. But when he failed, I took it upon myself to approach her. Alas, our attempt yielded nothing but greater mystery.'

The vizier interjected, 'Perhaps, my Sultan, she harbors something hidden, something that compels her to guard herself so fiercely. Might she be a spy? Or an enemy in disguise?'

The Sultan replied, 'If we know nothing of her, we cannot trust her. Yet, how can we discover the truth unless we bring her here?'

Thus, Murjan was dispatched with a company of guards to escort the princess. If she agreed willingly, she would be treated with honor. But if she resisted, they would bring her by force. Soon, Murjan returned, and the fair lady stood before the Sultan.

The Sultan greeted her, saying, 'Peace be upon you, noble lady. Tell me, who are you? What is the tale of your palace, your garden, and your companions? What secrets lie hidden behind the walls of your estate?'

The princess replied, 'O King of Wisdom, my story is unlike any other, for it is filled with sorrow and strangeness. My sisters and I are but three orphaned daughters who once lived in peace under the care of our father, Sheikh Kaa’b al-Ghazal. Though he was modest in means, he was a man of honor, and we were content in his care. But fate, ever capricious, took our mother from us and brought into our lives a woman named Reema.'

The Sultan asked, 'Who is Reema, and what did she do?'

The princess sighed and continued, 'Reema was an old and cunning woman, known in the town as both a mourner and a perfumer. 

By day, she sold incense and oils for the living; by night, she rented her tears and wails to the grieving. But behind this guise lay a darker truth. Reema was wed to a man named Mishkaah, a thief and a scoundrel. Together, they devised a wicked scheme. Reema would attend funerals, befriending the mourners and earning their trust. Then, under the cover of night, Mishkaah would open the graves and steal the burial shrouds and treasures meant for the dead.'

The Sultan exclaimed, 'A vile crime indeed! But how does this relate to you?'

The fair lady replied,'“Reema deceived us. And after our mother’s passing, she entered our lives. I tell you now what I saw with my own eyes and what was only revealed to me later, after our mother had departed. That was when Reema reached out to us—and from that moment, our fate was sealed.”

She came to us, eyes filled with sorrow, speaking softly as she wiped away our tears.

"Do not cry, my dear ones," she said. "I would never forget the late lady, may God have mercy on her soul. You do not know how dear she was to me—she was more than a sister."

We had never heard of her before, yet she spoke as though she had always been part of our mother’s life. And in our grief, we listened.

"Did she never mention me?" she asked. "Ah, how it pains me. But I am here now, and from this day forth, I shall be your mother. I will care for you as she would have wanted."

She was kind to us, her hands never idle—sweeping, scrubbing, lighting the fire to warm us.

"Come, let us cook," she urged, placing a small bundle in my hands. "A little dried curd—so when your father returns, he will find you fed and well."

She gave each of us a task, her voice gentle, her touch light. "Fatima, wash the pot. Karima, fetch the water. Halima, sweep the floor."

"But we have no firewood," we protested.

"Then I shall bring you some," she said. "Worry not, my dear ones. I am here now."

And in this way, she made herself part of our home, weaving herself into our days with kindness and care.

But all was not as it seemed…

One day, she left the house on an errand, and there, in the open street, she came face to face with the man she had once called her husband.

His gaze was cold, his voice sharper than a blade.

“One burial shroud for one man—God alone sees and knows. One shroud, and yet you dare accuse me?”

Reema did not flinch.

“Is death a shame, they asked? And how many times did I hear from you only words? Words, nothing more.”

Then, with steel in her voice, she declared:

“Listen well—I have divorced you.”

“You have divorced me?” he scoffed. “Is my authority not still mine?”

“Go,” she commanded. “Be gone.”

“Have patience,” he pleaded. “Wait, let us reason—”

“No more reasoning,” she cut him off. “The ship that carries you is setting sail, and you shall not return.”

And as he turned to leave, she cast him out with curses, driving him as one drives a stray dog from their doorstep. Then, slamming the door behind him, she turned away, shaking off the dust of him as though he had never been.

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

Here is the 5th 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.