Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025: The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “A bitter honey” EP.24

Ramadan Karim

Tonight we will continue our tale, the “Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima but first we will talk again about Honey.

Honey occupied a central role in Islamic and broader Arabic civilization — spiritually, scientifically, and culturally. It was more than just food or medicine; it was seen as divine, poetic, and deeply embedded in early Islamic thought.

It is one of the few natural substances explicitly praised in the Qur’an:

"يَخْرُجُ مِن بُطُونِهَا شَرَابٌ مُّخْتَلِفٌ أَلْوَانُهُ فِيهِ شِفَاءٌ لِّلنَّاسِ"
“From within their bellies comes a drink of varying colors, in which there is healing for mankind.”
— Surat An-Nahl (16:69)

The chapter’s very name — An-Nahl (The Bee) — underscores the significance of honey in Islamic teachings. Classical Qur’anic commentators such as Ibn Kathir and Al-Tabari emphasized this verse as evidence of honey’s divinely ordained healing power.

Prophet Muhammad ﷺ frequently recommended honey. In a hadith from Sahih al-Bukhari, a man approached the Prophet, saying his brother had a stomach ailment. The Prophet advised him to give his brother honey — not once, but three times — and eventually, the man was cured.

During the Islamic Golden Age (8th–13th centuries), honey held a prominent place in medical theory and practice. Ibn Sina (Avicenna) mentioned honey extensively in The Canon of Medicine, prescribing it for skin diseases, infections, fevers, and as a preservative for other medications. He believed honey could strengthen the body and prolong life.

Al-Razi (Rhazes), another pioneering physician, often mixed honey with herbs to create syrups and poultices and used them for wound care due to their antiseptic properties.

In Islamic tradition, honey was considered both a remedy and a sunnah — used to treat digestive issues, sore throats, wounds, and to nourish the body overall.

Now we will stop talking about honey, and let’s continue our tale.

And without further delay, here is the 696th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 24th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.

Episode 24th: A bitter honey

And when it was the ninety-sixth night after the six hundredth night, and the night that followed— King Shahryar resumed his place upon the couch of stories, and at the appointed hour, Scheherazade entered his presence. She greeted him with peace, then opened before him the gate of dreams, and thus began to relate anew:

She said:

It has reached me, O King of the age, wise in judgment and noble in lineage, that when the maiden Karima fell victim to Reema’s treachery, the accursed old crone claimed that the girl had gone mad. And King Golan, sovereign of the jinn, believed her claim and cast the girl into the Island of Oblivion.

There, Karima cried out in vain, calling for help that never came, until her reason nearly fled her from the depth of sorrow and despair. One of the guards, moved by compassion, spoke of her plight to Prince Zahran, who then sought her out. His visits became frequent, his ear attentive to her every word—and the prince, without knowing why, found his heart drawn to her. He returned again and again to her place of confinement, not knowing that what stirred within him was the whisper of love and longing, destined to grow with the passing of days.

Thus, it was that jinn and humankind were brought together—and love proved itself mightier than the bounds of race or realm. Two youthful hearts opened like twin blossoms at dawn, and what followed, dear listener, is what we now behold on the Island of Oblivion...

Herald (offstage): His Highness, Prince Zahran!

Matouq (the guard): This way, my lord, Prince Zahran.

Zahran: Good morning, O daughter of mankind.

Karima: A blessed morning to you, my lord.

Zahran: How oft must I ask you—do not call me my lord. That title, it seems to me, raises a wall between us.

Karima: Then what shall I call you, O son of the Sultan?

Zahran: Call me Zahran. When you say that name, it gains a meaning new and dear to me.

Karima: That is a noble kindness, O Prince.

Zahran: Nay—say only Zahran.

Karima: Very well, my prince Zahran.

Zahran: Still clinging to formality... Now tell me—how fares the human girl this morning?

Karima: I am but a forgotten soul—were it not for your kindness, I would have been lost this day.

Zahran: Karima, I am now convinced beyond doubt: you are wronged.

Karima: Reema wronged me—framed me for a crime, and cast me here upon the Island of Oblivion. Every truth has its time—but had my voice reached the Sultan...

Zahran: I came to you now, before I go to my father, for an idea has come to me.

Karima: What idea?

Zahran: Listen well, O human girl.

Karima: I am listening.

Zahran: Did you not say it was you who uncovered the betrayal? That it was you who hurled the apple that struck the Queen’s eye—yet Reema claimed the deed as her own, and thus they said you were mad?

Karima: Aye, and that was the very lie of the cursed old woman.

Zahran: Then what if... you were to change your tale?

Karima (startled): Change it? But why?

Zahran: Hear me out.

Karima: You wish me to lie?

Zahran: Deny all that you witnessed.

Karima: And to what end?

Zahran: So that they may say, “She has changed her tale—she is healed of her madness.” In such a case, there would be no cause to keep you imprisoned. You would go free. What say you?

Karima (pauses): It may indeed be a wise idea.

Zahran: Then let us enact it this day, before the next. But we must agree on the words, so that no contradiction may arise before the Sultan.

Karima: You will go to the Sultan?

Zahran: You know he grieves for my brother, Prince Karwan, who lies sick and silent.

Karima: Then... you may not be able to speak with him?

Zahran: No, I shall go now. And if the moment permits, I shall speak.

Karima: And will you return with his answer?

Zahran: By the life of my heart, I shall.

Karima: Then I shall wait.

Zahran: Worry not, Karima.

Karima: Go in peace.

And in the house of Ka‘b al-Ghazal, where Halima and Fatima sat in bewilderment...

Fatima: And now what, Halima?

Halima: If it's about the Honey Well, then today is our last chance, Fatima.

Fatima: I'm still troubled by our sister Karima's disappearance—and to speak plainly, I suspect Reema.

Halima: But who among us knows the truth?

Fatima: Then what are we to do? Just sit in silence, knowing nothing about the man who came for her—who he was, or where he took her?

Halima: And how would we know who he was?

Fatima: I’m certain Reema had a hand in Karima’s disappearance.

Halima: But why? What would she gain?

Fatima: I don’t know her reason. But mark my words—what I say today, you'll see come true tomorrow.

Halima: May God divide them as He sees fit.

Fatima: Do you know who could help us? Who might guide us to our sister?

Halima: Who?

Fatima: Uncle Mishkah.

Halima: Uncle Mishkah?

Fatima: If Reema is the drum, then Mishkah is the key. He fears her, true—but he loathes her as well. And as for you, Halima, you hold a certain sway over him... You could make him speak. I can see it in his eyes.

Halima: So what do you want me to do?

Fatima: Sit him down, talk to him, press him. Maybe he’ll stumble into the truth. And besides, why is he late today?

(A sudden knock at the door, and Mishkah's voice cries out:)

Mishkah: Open up!

Fatima: Go open the door, Halima.

Halima: Why me, Fatima?

Fatima: Because I know the old fool has eyes for you. Maybe he’ll open up to you, confide in you.

Mishkah (from behind the door): Open the door, Halima!

Halima: Coming, Uncle Mishkah...

Mishkah: Halima... Halima... Halima...

Fatima (to her sister, aside): Didn’t I tell you? Her name is all that’s on his tongue.

(Halima, now understanding her role, smiles and opens the door.)

Halima: Uncle Mishkah!

Mishkah (singing):
Mishkah the dancer, the prancer, the bouncer—
Whether he comes or goes, he loves not the fair and comely girls!

Halima (laughing): Why say that, Uncle Mishkah?

Mishkah (nervously): Is she here? Reema—is she inside or out?

Halima: Auntie Reema went to gather some honey from the jar.

Mishkah: So… she’s not here?

Halima: No, she isn’t.

Mishkah (relieved, singing again):
Then Mishkah does love the fair and comely girls!

Halima: Come now, Uncle Mishkah—enough of that nonsense.

Mishkah: What? I’ve said nothing out of line.

Halima: Have you noticed—you’re much like my father?

Mishkah: Like your father, am I?

Halima: Speak to us now of my sister—and her vanishing.

Mishkah: Ah, Karima? That’s over and done.

Halima: Uncle Mishkah...

Mishkah: She’s gone. May Reema reap what she has sown!

Halima: What does that mean? Why would you say that?

Mishkah (panicked, realizing he’s said too much): Me? No, no—did I say anything?

Fatima: There must be something you’re hiding.

Mishkah: No, no, there’s nothing! What are you trying to do—get me into trouble?

Halima: No, but you must speak.

Mishkah: What do you want me to say?

Halima: For my sake, Uncle Mishkah...

Mishkah: Why do you torment me so?

Halima (softly): Uncle Mishkah...

Mishkah: Oh, cursed be the day I was born, Mishkah!

Fatima (aside): He knows everything. He’s just afraid.

Mishkah: Afraid? Me? What should I fear?

Fatima: You’re afraid of Auntie Reema.

Mishkah: Of who? Reema? That wretched old hag—the owl-faced crone?

Halima: Then why stay silent?

Fatima: What are you afraid of?

Mishkah: What do you want me to say?

Halima: Where is Karima?

Mishkah: And then what?

Halima (sweetly): For my sake, Uncle Mishkah...

Mishkah (exploding with grief and anger):
Mishkah is lost! That vile, wicked Reema!
Why does she do this to me?
You don’t know what she holds over me—
She holds something no coin could ever buy!
And still, she sends me grave to grave,
To steal every shroud for her dead!
What is my fate? What curse is this? WHY?!

Fatima: What are you trying to say?

Mishkah (shouting): I’m saying—No! No! NO, Reema! NO!

Fatima (frightened): Halima!

Mishkah: Listen, Halima—and you too, Fatima!
Reema will be here soon.
And if we’re to speak in safety, it can’t be now.

Halima: Then when shall we talk?

Mishkah: I’ll tell you—alone.

Halima: When?

Mishkah: Reema’s coming soon to fetch you—

Halima: To get the rest of the honey from the well?

Mishkah: Yes. But once you return safely…
You’ll see what Mishkah is truly made of.
And all you wish to know—I shall reveal.

And so, Reema came to take Halima in the dead of night, heading toward the place where the honey was found.

Reema: This is the place, Halima.
Halima: Yes, Aunt Reema.
Reema: Alright then, let’s lift the jar.
Halima: This is the last time.
Reema (in a whisper): Look around first! Notice how quiet it is?
Halima: It’s night, no one’s coming, no one’s going. The street’s empty.
Reema (in a lower whisper): Can anyone see us? Can anyone spot us? Come on, help me lift the stone tile.
Halima: Alright, I’m lifting with you.

Together, they lift the slab covering the hidden pit.

Reema: Go on down, my dear.
Halima: This really is the last time, right, Auntie?
Reema (still whispering): We don’t know yet—let’s see how much honey is left. Go on, go down, my dear!
Halima (as she descends): Hold my hand, Auntie.
Reema (helping her down): Haaa—there you go... did you reach the bottom?
Halima: Yes, Auntie.
Reema: Look around well down there. Is there still a lot of honey?
Halima: Just about enough to fill the jar.
Reema: Then hurry up a bit.
Halima: Hand me the dipper.
Reema: Watch your head—here!

Reema tosses the dipper down.

Halima (catching it): Got it!
Reema (irritated): Come on, move faster.
Halima: Take the dipper from me.
Reema: Give it here.

Reema takes the dipper, empties it, then throws it back again.

Reema: Take it, my sweet girl.
Halima: Here, Auntie. Take it.
Reema: Give it, Halima.

Again, the old woman takes the dipper, empties more honey, and throws it back down.

Reema: Take it again.
Halima: This is the last dipper, Auntie.
Reema: So that’s it, dear?
Halima: Yes, there’s no more honey in the well. Help me up now, please.
Reema: Just wait a second.
Halima: Give me your hand to pull me up.
Reema: Check again, make sure.
Halima: I told you, there’s no honey left.
Reema (shouting): Look properly inside the well—deep inside!
Halima (raising her hand): I’m telling you, there’s nothing left. Now, please, take my hand!

Suddenly, Halima is shocked to see her step-aunt sliding the stone tile back over the well.

Halima (terrified): Oh God! Auntie Reema!!
Reema (mocking): Say hi to Karima for me.
Halima (panicking and crying): You’re closing the hole on me, Auntie Reema!!
Reema (laughing): So you can catch up with your sister Karima—and give her my regards! She laughs wickedly.

Halima screams and cries beneath the heavy slab.

Halima’s muffled voice from under the stone: Auntie Reema!!

And once more, Reema returned to her old ways—sealing the stone over the mouth of the well, leaving the girl to face the worst fate. Halima felt around in the darkness, terror clutching at her heart... and at that moment, my lord...

At this moment, Shahrazad realized that the morning had arrived, so she fell silent, leaving the story unfinished.

Here is the 24th episode of our tale, televised

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 elsewhere on the globe. Every pound, dollar, or euro can make a difference.

Till next night inshallah.