Tonight is a very special night in the history of the One Thousand and One Nights. It is the 100th episode — a true milestone for one of the longest-running radio shows in the history of Egyptian and Arab broadcasting.
Despite this celebration, our chit-chat tonight is still tied to our tale.
The names of our twins, separated by slave traders, are Nuzhat al-Zaman and Daw’ al-Makan. Taher Abu Fasha kept these same names from the One Thousand and One Nights story of Umar al-Nu'man, without changing them in his radio adaptation.
The name Nuzhat al-Zaman means “Delight of the Age,” while her brother Daw’ al-Makan means “Light of the Place.” At first glance, they may sound like purely fictional names, but historically, they are not entirely unusual.
These names follow a well-known naming tradition from the medieval Islamic world. During the Abbasid Caliphate, it was common for royals, scholars, and prominent figures to use honorific names formed by a noun followed by elements such as al-Din (“of the Religion”), al-Dawla (“of the State”), or al-Zaman / al-Dahr (“of the Age” or “Time”).
For example, the famous medieval poet and man of letters Badi' al-Zaman al-Hamadhani — whose real name was Ahmad ibn al-Husayn — used the title Badi’ al-Zaman, meaning “Wonder of the Age.” His surname al-Hamadhani simply means “from the city of Hamadan.”
Enough of our short chit-chat.
Let us now see what will happen to our lost prince in the 100th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Unlike the original tale of the One Thousand and One Nights, Taher Abu Fasha chose to place the events of King Nu’man’s story in pre-Islamic times in his radio adaptation.
In the original Umar al-Nu’man saga from One Thousand and One Nights, the story is loosely set during the era of the Umayyad Caliphate (661–750 CE), particularly during the long series of wars between the Islamic Empire and the Byzantine Empire.
In the radio show, however, Abu Fasha preferred to keep the setting deliberately vague, placing the events in a more distant pre-Islamic past.
Enough of our short chit-chat.
Let us see what our lost prince will do in the 99th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ep.8 “The Caravan”
The Ninety-Ninth Night
When it was the Ninety-Ninth Night, and the following evening had come, King Shahryar took his seat as on the previous night. Then Scheherazade entered at the appointed hour and began to recount what had happened, joining the thread of the tale to what had come before.
And she said:
“O happy King, wise in judgment, it has reached me that Prince Daw’ al-Makan, when he heard from the garbage collector that he knew the place where the Bedouins had settled—the very Bedouins who had carried off his sister, Princess Nuzhat al-Zaman—his heart leapt with joy, and his breast opened with relief, until he was near to flying from the excess of his happiness.
Yet the garbage collector refused to reveal the name of the tribe unless the prince agreed that he should accompany him and serve as his guide. Finding no other choice, the prince consented. The garbage collector made ready for the journey, and with him went his wife Karkouba, after he had purchased a mount for the road.
Thus the three of them set out together, riding upon the beast and traveling day after day and night after night. They crossed barren plains and desolate wildernesses, passed through valleys and over deserts, until two months had gone by and Prince Daw’ al-Makan grew restless with longing.
Then suddenly Karkouba cried out, for she had sighted tents pitched in the distance. The three hastened toward them and soon arrived among them. It was a tribe dwelling upon the highlands. When they asked for the chief of the tribe, they were told it was the Bedouin Fahd—the very man who had carried off Nuzhat al-Zaman and cast Prince Daw’ al-Makan aside upon the road.
At once the prince hurried to him and entered his tent.
The Bedouin chief welcomed them warmly, saying:
‘Welcome, welcome indeed! Blessed be those who come to us and blessed be those who settle among our people.’
But the prince said to him:
‘It seems, O Sheikh of the Arabs, that you do not recognize me.’
The chief looked upon him yet did not recall him, and he called to his men to prepare hospitality for the guest, ordering that a camel be slaughtered in his honor.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, as we await what King Nu’man’s twin will do after turning from being royals to Slaves, it is time for our little chitchat.
As we may have guessed, tonight we will be introduced to a character that works as a garbage collector.
Historically, the garbage collector as a profession appeared in Ancient Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt and Ancient Persia but not as we know now.
In Ancient Mesopotamia, while there wasn't a specific job title for "Garbage Man" in 3000 BCE, texts mention "Sweepers" and "Porters."
Sweepers were typically employed by temples and palaces to keep sacred grounds clean, while Porters might be hired by wealthy families to haul heavy waste to "middens" (city-edge dumps).
In Ancient Egypt, as early as 2100 BCE in the city of Heracleopolis Magna, records suggest that elite and religious districts had designated laborers who swept the streets and collected refuse in baskets.
In Ancient Rome, street cleaners and slaves removed refuse, while the Cloaca Maxima helped carry waste away from the city.
We will stop here. We return back to the history of garbage collection professions again.
Let us see what the siblings will do in the 98th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, as we await what King Hardoub will do after what happened to his daughter Abriza, it is time for our little chitchat.
The main theme of tonight’s episode is simple: karma is not fooling around—what goes around truly comes around.
King Hardoub is paying the price for what he once did to Atrashan, and King Nu’man, in turn, will also pay the price for what he has done to Abriza.
But enough chitchat.
Let us see how the two kings will face the consequences of their deeds in the 97th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ep. 6 “Karma Vol. 1 ” The Ninety-Seventh Night
And when it was the Seven and Ninetieth Night, being the night that followed, King Shahryar took his seat as on the previous evening. Scheherazade came at her appointed hour, and the king rose to receive her, took her by the hand, and seated her in the place of highest honor. Then she began to recount what had passed.
She said:
“It has reached me, O fortunate king, wise in judgment, that when the slave Al-Ghadban saw the dust rising and spreading across the horizon, he left the princess lying upon the ground and fled for his life, spurring his horse deep into the desert waste.
And when the dust that had filled the wilderness cleared away, it revealed King Hardoub the Mighty at the head of his dread host. When he beheld his daughter slain before him, he lowered his banners, proclaimed his grief and anguish, lifted her body, and bore her back to his city. And when her burial was complete, he sent for her grandmother, Storm-Breaker.”
When she entered upon him, he cried:
King Hardoub (weeping): “Mother! Have you seen how Abriza’s story has ended?”
Storm-Breaker: “That my sorrow may grow heavier! Yet I shall not abandon my blood.”
King Hardoub: “Abriza!”
Storm-Breaker: “Weeping is for the brow of the dead, Hardoub. Death is written upon every child of Adam.”
King Hardoub:
“Would King Al-Nu‘man do this to my daughter?”
Storm-Breaker: “My heart burns for her, my son… God knows all. Evil is repaid with evil, and the one who begins injustice is the greater wrongdoer. Hardoub! Enough of tears and lamentation. Shame upon a man who weeps while his blood lies spilled and his vengeance still unclaimed.”
Tonight’s episode is a bit graphic — in fact, it is one of the most graphic episodes written by Taher Abu Fasha.
It deals with rape. Remember, this was written and broadcast on Egypt’s State Radio in the 1950s — a period often considered the peak of social conservatism in the country.
Because of that warning, I must say that this episode — and its original version in One Thousand and One Nights — particularly the part concerning Abriza, strongly reminds me of the tragedy of Medea, the princess and priestess of Colchis. Medea turned against her own people and left her kingdom out of love for Jason, only to face rejection in his homeland and descend into tragedy.
Abriza’s story offers a similar form of indirect wisdom, echoing the structure and moral weight of Greek tragedy. It serves as a cautionary tale — a warning to women everywhere, across time and place, to think carefully and not follow the heart blindly.
Now enough talking. I hope the episode won't be alarming to anyone.
So without further delay, here is the fourth episode of our story: The Tale of King al-Nu’man, the 96th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
It may be wartime, but before we get busy with everything that comes with it, let’s take a short break and watch this brief video clip from Seasons & Streets about Cairo’s Ramadan bazaar in El-Sayeda Zeinab in 2026.
You have already seen the photos from there, so now it is time for the video. "Choose English subtitles"
I first wrote about this bazaar—or rather the street where it is held annually—mainly El-Sadd El-Barani Street, officially known as Youssef El-Sebai Street, back in 2023. But this year, we take a step further and look at the history of the market itself and how it grew into the largest seasonal makeshift market in Cairo, if not in Egypt.
Historically, the Sayeda Zeinab Ramadan bazaar was not the original center of Ramadan lantern production.
The historic hub of khayamiya (traditional tentmaking appliqué) and lantern craftsmanship was Tah’t Al-Rab‘, near Bab Zuweila, an area associated with these crafts since the Fatimid and Mamluk eras.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
But before we find out what happens to Sharkan on the battlefield, it’s time for our little chitchat.
Abriza—the name of our warrior princess whom we met last night—is neither Byzantine in origin nor a fabricated invention.
It is, in fact, the feminine Arabic form derived from ibriz, meaning pure gold. Yes, Abriza quite literally means “the Golden One.” Within the world of the One Thousand and One Nights, to name a Byzantine princess Abriza, is no accident. It is a poetic gesture—a way of calling her “pure gold.”
The name reflects the medieval Arabic imagination of Byzantium as a realm of immense wealth: golden palaces, churches adorned with gilded mosaics, and women of radiant beauty. And perhaps, in more ways than one, she has already proven herself worthy of that name.
I will pause here—and I hope you will enjoy what comes next.
So without further delay, here is the fourth episode of our story: The Tale of King al-Nu’man, the 95th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Tonight, we will be introduced to a new set of characters — Byzantine figures, or as they were known in our region, the people of El-Rūm, the Roman Byzantines.
The people we call “Byzantines” today never used that term themselves; they called themselves Rhōmaioi — Romans.
As I was reading the original tales, I was reminded of the legendary Amazon warrior women of Greek mythology — that enduring image of the warrior princess.
Historically, however, Byzantium did not have its own Amazonian female military force. After all, we are speaking of a society deeply shaped by the structures and moral authority of the Christian Church.
Yet Byzantium, like Rome before it, inherited and absorbed Greek culture — including Greek mythology and its fascination with warrior women.
That Greek influence even appears in Byzantine epic poetry. In the tale of Digenes Akritas, for example, we encounter the female warrior Maximo, who is described as having Amazonian ancestry.
I will pause here, because this is a long episode — and I hope you will enjoy what comes next.
So without further delay, here is the third episode of our story: The Tale of King al-Nu’man, the 94th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Unlike other tales, King al-Nu’man got names and places inspired by real names and places, especially in Pre-Islamic times.
Starting with King Kanaan, Atrashan’s father, it is a good introduction to speak about the land of Canaan.
Kanaan is the Arabic version of Canaan, and it is associated in Egypt with the Levantines as a name popularly till this day, and it is not a coincidence at all.
Starting with King Kanaan, Atrashan’s father, this serves as a good introduction to speaking about the land of Canaan.
Kanaan is the Arabic form of Canaan, and, in Egypt, the name has long been associated with Levantines — a connection that persists even today, and it is no coincidence.
The first known historical appearance of the name Canaan (or Kanaan) was in ancient Egyptian sources during the New Kingdom of Egypt, beginning in the 15th century BCE.
The term — written in Egyptian hieroglyphs as something like kꜣ-n-ʿ-nꜣ — appears in inscriptions referring to a region in the Levant.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Now that we’ve finished the story of King Sajur and his sons — which was certainly not your usual Arabian Nights “Aladdin gets the princess” tale — I am proudly presenting to you The Tale of King al-Nu’man.
This story is not one of the later additions or so-called “orphan tales.” It is an original saga from the core Arabic text of One Thousand and One Nights.
To be precise, it is based on The Tale of King Omar al-Nu’man — the longest single tale in the entire book. Yes, it is truly a saga in every sense of the word.
I was genuinely surprised to learn that Taher Abu Fasha and Mahmoud Shaaban adapted this story for a general Egyptian and Arab radio audience. The original tale of Omar al-Nu’man is absolutely 18+. It is, without exaggeration, the true Game of Thrones of the Nights. It was one of my earliest shocks when I first read the original Arabic edition.
For me, the saga of Omar al-Nu’man is among the most explicit stories in the collection. It combines epic wars, rival kings, and — spoiler alert — themes that include incest, same-sex relationships, racism, classism, and misogyny. It is the kind of grand, chaotic epic that someone might enjoy on screen without fully grasping what it is actually critiquing or warning against.
In many ways, it reflects the moral and political decay associated with the later Abbasid era — or at least the literary imagination of that decline — which ultimately preceded the empire’s fall before the army of Genghis Khan.
Many Western readers reduce The Nights to a book of sensuality and exotic eroticism. But in reality, it is also a book of political wisdom — a mirror held up to rulers and subjects alike. The tale of Omar al-Nu’man is one of those early, shocking narratives meant to deliver lessons — especially to a king like Shahryar.
I hesitated to share this story during Ramadan. I wasn't sure how Taher Abu Fasha would handle such heavy material. But after listening to a couple of episodes produced during the tense era of the “War of the Radios” — amid the conflict between Nasser and the Al-Saud leadership of Saudi Arabia and King Hussein of Jordan — I decided to give it a try.
The themes of war, power, and rivalry felt strangely fitting.
And Taher Abu Fasha — an underrated master writer — did more than simply summarize and dramatize the longest tale in the book for Egyptian radio.
In my view, he did an extraordinary job preserving the spirit and moral core of the saga, even while applying the necessary censorship to make it suitable for a general audience.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Before we continue our tale and discover how King Sajur's sons will save Princess Amira's life — and whom she will ultimately choose — it's time for our little chit-chat.
Tonight, we will speak about yet another recurring element in the tales of Taher Abu Fasha: the Magic Carpet.
The idea of magical flying carpets is much older than the One Thousand and One Nights. One of the earliest references appears in legends surrounding King Solomon (dating from the 3rd to 6th centuries CE).
In later Jewish and Islamic traditions—though notably not in the Hebrew Bible itself—Solomon is said to have possessed a green silken carpet (or throne) carried by the wind, capable of transporting him and his entire army across vast distances in a single day.
While the Qur’an (21:81 and 38:36) speaks of Solomon commanding the wind to blow at his order, it does not explicitly mention a carpet.
The "flying carpet" detail is a later narrative expansion found in Isra’iliyyat (narratives derived from earlier Judeo-Christian traditions) and Persian storytelling layers.
The concept reappeared in the Persian epic tradition, most famously in the Shahnameh (c. 1000 CE). In this epic, King Kay Kavus builds a flying throne powered by eagles.
While these weren't always literal carpets, the imagery of airborne royal platforms became a staple of medieval Persian romance literature.
When it comes to the One Thousand and One Nights, there is a major surprise for modern audiences: the 'flying carpet' most people imagine is largely a later European association.
Now, without further delay, I present the seventh and the last episode of our story—The Tale of Sajur and his sons, or the 201st night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast by the Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Before we continue our tale and discover what happened to our third prince on the road from which there is no return, after knowing what happened to his eldest brothers, it is time for our usual pre-tale chitchat.
*Spoiler alert*
Unlike the previous two nights, tonight we will travel to a city that is very real: the legendary Samarkand.
Located in modern-day Uzbekistan, Samarkand was founded under the name Afrasiyab (circa the 7th or 8th century BCE, its location placing it at the heart of the famous Silk Road.
After the Arab conquest in the early 8th century, Samarkand blossomed into one of the greatest cities of Transoxiana (Ma Wara’ al-Nahr).
Medieval geographers, such as the legendary Al-Muqaddasi, described it as a wealthy, cultivated, and beautifully planned city—a 10th-century oasis of gardens, canals, and monumental walls.
However, Samarkand truly became a "Jewel of the East" in the late 14th century when the conqueror Timur (Tamerlane) made it his imperial capital. Timur transformed the city by bringing architects and artisans from Persia, India, Anatolia, and Syria. Together, they built massive, blue-tiled monuments that defined the Timurid style.
In Persian poetry and later storytelling, Samarkand became a universal symbol of beauty and unattainable splendor.
It appears in the Shahnameh and naturally found its way into the tales of the One Thousand and One Nights.
Today, the city is recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site, officially titled "Samarkand – Crossroads of Cultures."
Now, without further delay, I present the sixth episode of our story—The Tale of Sajur and his sons, or the 200th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast by the Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
After the road of safety comes the road of regret, but before taking that road, we will have a little chit-chat.
*Spoiler alert*
Tonight, we travel to the City of Brass—a recurring location of the One Thousand and One Nights radio show by Taher Abu Fasha.
Unlike the "giants of old" whose legends span every continent, the City of Brass is a uniquely Islamic-Arabian product of the imagination.
The earliest recorded mention of this city dates back to the Umayyad Caliphate (late 7th or early 8th century CE). The legend centers on Musa ibn Nusayr, the legendary governor of North Africa and arguably the "Original Conquistador" of Iberia and Southern France.
Musa was reportedly sent by Caliph Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan to find the lost "Bottles of Solomon"—the legendary vessels used to imprison djinns. (And you're right to wonder, while Aladdin was a later addition to the Nights, genies in a bottle have very old roots in Middle Eastern lore.)
The city was believed to be hidden deep within the deserts of the Maghreb or the rugged terrain of Andalusia—a myth that I personally believe grew from the awe-inspiring reality of Ibn Nusayr’s sweeping conquests.
Sheikh Al-Tabari did not treat this as a mere fairy tale, but as a documented expedition. He described a city forged entirely of brass, windowless and doorless, surrounded by towering walls. Those who attempted to climb them were said to fall inside laughing—a chilling form of magical madness or enchantment.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Before we continue our tale and discover what the brothers had done on each road in that year, we will have our little chit-chat.
*Spoiler alert*
Tonight, we travel to the City of the Giants — a recurring theme in folklore across much of the world.
Historically, one of the earliest recorded mentions of giant-like beings in literature appears in the Epic of Gilgamesh (c. 2100–1200 BCE) from ancient Mesopotamia. In the epic, Gilgamesh battles Humbaba, the monstrous guardian of the Cedar Forest, often interpreted as a giant-like being.
Centuries later, giants became prominent figures in Greek mythology and literature. But before turning to Greece, we must note that giants also appear in the Hebrew Bible — specifically in the Book of Genesis — and in the Book of Enoch as the Nephilim.
According to Hebrew biblical tradition, the Nephilim were ancient beings born from the forbidden union between fallen angels and human women in the pre-diluvian world.
After Noah’s Flood, the Nephilim are no longer clearly mentioned as a surviving race. However, the Israelites are described as encountering giant peoples in Canaan after leaving Egypt — including the Amalekites, King Og of Bashan, and later Goliath.
From a historical perspective, it is possible that ancient Hebrews encountered neighboring Levantine groups who were physically taller or culturally perceived as stronger, which over time evolved into traditions of “giant races.”
Enter Greek mythology: the Gigantes, the Titans, and the Cyclopes — colossal beings who battled the Olympian gods and were ultimately defeated. The earliest surviving Greek literary references to such giants appear in the works of Homer (8th century BCE) and Hesiod (c. 700 BCE).
Now, a quick piece of trivia: the actor who narrated the role of the Dervish in the episodes was the late Egyptian actor of Palestinian origin, Saad El-Gazawy.
El-Gazawy was a distinguished radio performer known for his powerful and recognizable voice. He began his artistic career in the 1960s and performed numerous radio roles, particularly religious ones.
In cinema, he appeared in films such as Hijrat Al-Rasul (The Prophet’s Migration) and Min Ozamaa Al-Islam (Among the Great Figures of Islam). On television, he took part in the historical series Omar ibn Abdel Aziz.
The program first aired in 1975 and is considered one of the oldest and most culturally significant radio programs in Egypt. Blending poetry, literature, history, philosophy, and religion into a single format, it featured only two performers: Samira Abdel Aziz and Saad El-Gazawy.
El-Gazawy remained with the program until his death in May 2013.
Now, without further delay, I present the third episode of our story—The Tale of Sajur and his sons, or the 197th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast by the Egyptian State Radio.
Ep. 3 “It is always the Darvish”
And when it was the One Hundred and Ninety-Seventh Night, and the night that followed, King Shahryar took his seat as on the evening before. Shahrazad came at the appointed hour, bowed before him, and continued her tale, joining what had been severed of speech.
Shahrazad: It has reached me, O fortunate king, wise in counsel and just in decree, that when the three princes — Firuz, Nairuz, and Ma‘zuz — found their hearts bound in love for their cousin, and their father could discover no remedy for their contention, King Sajur feared that discord might ripen into calamity, and that brother would rise against brother.
Therefore, he gathered them before the princess and gave to each a purse of gold, commanding that she should belong to him who returned with the most wondrous gift.
The three brothers accepted and set forth across deserts and valleys in search of marvels worthy of her hand. After many days they came to a khan, where they lodged for three nights. Then they mounted their horses and resumed their journey, until they reached a road divided into three paths.
There they halted in perplexity.
“Before us lie three roads,” said one.
“Which shall we take?” said another.
As they debated, there came to them a dervish whose laughter rang strangely in the air.
“Each road,” said he, “holds both its good and its evil.”
“Which shall we choose?” they asked.
“You are three brothers,” replied the dervish. “Your purpose is one — but your paths are not one.”
When they tried to walk together upon a single road, they found themselves returned to the very place from which they had begun.
“The end of it is its beginning,” said the dervish, “and the beginning its end. No single road will bear you three.”
“Why?” they cried.
“Because your intentions differ, and so your roads must differ. Each of you must walk alone. Then each shall reach his desire.”
He pointed to the paths before them.
“This is the Road of Safety. This is the Road of Regret. And this is the Road from which there is no Return.”
They trembled — yet none would yield.
The dervish gave to each a small sphere.
“Cast it,” said he. “It will choose your road.”
They cast the spheres.
To one fell the Road of Safety. To another, the Road of Regret. To the third, the Road from which there is no Return.
“The path now lies open,” said the dervish. “Go your ways. Though you part, you shall meet again.”
And the brothers agreed to reunite after one year, at the same khan, on the same day — each awaiting the other.
Thus, they embraced and separated, each vanishing upon his appointed road.
A year passed.
In the palace of King Sajur there was no tidings.
The princess Amira grew pale with sorrow. “If only I knew,” she wept, “whether they live or lie beneath the earth. I am the cause of what has befallen.”
But the king answered her, “Your tongue did not command them, nor did your hand compel them. Do not lay this burden upon your heart.”
Messengers were sent. They returned with nothing.
“It is as though the earth had opened and swallowed them,” said the vizier.
The king’s grief deepened.
One day a dervish came to the palace gates — the same who had appeared in former years.
“I come to bring peace to your heart,” he said. “Your sons live.”
“Where?” cried the king.
“They will come to you flying like birds.”
The princess lifted her face. “And will they arrive safely?”
The dervish answered only, “I have but two days left of my life. I have delivered the message and fulfilled the trust.”
Then he departed.
But the princess had grown grievously ill.
Her sorrow consumed her, and the physicians despaired of her life. King Sajur stood beside her bed, remembering his brother Azdeshir, and tears filled his eyes.
While they stood thus in despair, the palace trembled, and shouts rang through its halls. Servants rushed inward crying:
“My lord—!”
And before her tale was complete, the dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent until another night.
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.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Before we continue our tale and discover what fate has in store for Sajur and his three sons, it is time for our chit-chat.
Last night, we learned that Bahram Gur was a real historical figure from Persian history whose name Taher Abu Fasha borrowed for the story.
Tonight, we discover that the inspiration behind Azdashir, the brother of King Sajur, was also a real man — a real Ardashir from Iranian history, though with a slightly different spelling.
Azdeshir is the Arabic rendering of the Old Persian name Ardashir or Ardeshir
King Ardashir — and here I mean Ardashir I — was in fact the founder of the Sasanian Empire, the last empire of ancient Iran. Ardashir called himself shahanshah (King of Kings) and began conquering the lands he referred to as Eranshahr, the realm of the Iranians.
There were three kings named Ardashir in the Sasanian Empire: Ardashir I, Ardashir II, and Ardashir III.
In modern times, perhaps the most famous bearer of the name was Ardeshir Zahedi, the prominent Iranian politician and diplomat who served as Iran’s foreign minister from 1966 to 1971 and as ambassador to both the United States and the United Kingdom during the 1960s and 1970s.
He was married for seven years to Princess Shahnaz Pahlavi, the Egyptian-Iranian daughter of the Shah of Iran.
Today, many Iranians remember Ardeshir Zahedi, especially for his stance in later years: although he opposed the Islamic Revolutionary regime in Tehran, he firmly rejected foreign military intervention in Iran.
Now, without further delay, I present the second episode of our story—The Tale of Sajur and his sons, or the 196th night of One Thousand and One Nights, as broadcast by the Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Yes, we are back to our Ramadan Arabian Nights this year.
This year, we got a fragile ceasefire in Gaza that Israel violates every day as usual, but the people in Gaza are trying their best to enjoy or rather live, Ramadan as much as they can.
This year, we got the ghost of war looming over the Middle East as the US has been transferring like 1/4 of its military power to the Middle East for a possible military action with Israel against Iran.
On this occasion, I discovered that selecting short tales is a better choice, as well as the tales themselves, which are somehow related to current events or the location in the Middle East.
Tonight, we will start the tale of King Sajur of Persia and his sons.
But first, for the newcomers, this is what we are going to do this Holy Month of Ramadan, like every year in Egyptian Chronicles.
Every Ramadan, we tune in to episodes of Egypt’s One Thousand and One Nights radio show, created in 1955 by the legendary Egyptian broadcasterMahmoud Shaaban, better known as Papa Sharo.
Originally inspired by the famous bookOne Thousand and One Nights (also known in the West as The Arabian Nights), it became one of the longest-running programs in the history of Egyptian State Radio.
Shaaban could not have created the show without the ongoing work of Egyptian writer and folkloristTaher Abu Fasha, whose name became forever linked to the Arabian Nights tradition.
While other writers contributed to the show over the years, this year’s tale was written by Abu Fasha himself.
The story draws inspiration from the original book — its universe, its enduring themes, and the history of the Middle East, especially Persia, as we will soon hear.
The book Arabian Nights — or rather, One Thousand and One Nights — is often considered to be of Indo-Persian origin, but we will leave that discussion for another night.
Titled “The Voice of Egypt,” the exhibition lived up to its name: Thuma truly was the voice of Egypt.
Held at Aisha Fahmy Palace from August through November 2025, the exhibition proved to be a major success.
I visited it in October.
The exhibition included many things. "Spoiler: Keep reading and scroll down the post—the best is yet to come, and the true gems of the exhibition are just below. Make sure to read to the end."
It featured a selection of Umm Kulthum’s personal belongings, on loan from her museum on Al-Manial Island, including her notebook, pen, gloves, and sunglasses.
This is the annual post marking the January 25 Revolution of 2011 in Egypt, published on January 28—the true day of the Revolution.
Although it may seem like a distant memory, it has rarely felt closer. Many—if not all—of the causes and conditions that led to that moment, which reshaped the Middle East (if not the world), still exist today, in one form or another, across almost every country in the region—not just in Egypt.
Step Down sign from February 4 million man protest in Tahrir square
I am writing this post while Iran stands on the brink of war, following mass protests that were hijacked by the U.S. and the Israeli regime and brutally cracked down on by the Iranian regime. The result has been a tragedy: thousands killed, thousands more detained, and millions waiting in fear, uncertain about what the future holds.
I cannot ignore what is happening in Iran, as we remember the January 2011 Revolution—the peak moment that truly launched the Arab Spring, with all due respect to the Tunisian Revolution. For context, Tunisians themselves protested earlier this month against their government and President Kais Saied, who has turned out to be little more than a Temu-version strongman.
After the 12-day war in the summer of 2025, I thought the Iranian regime might finally read the writing on the wall and grant greater freedoms to its people, especially after Iranians stood firm during the Israeli–U.S. war.
Once again, the Iranian people proved—like people everywhere—that they are the first and true line of defense, resilient despite years of repression and crushing economic sanctions. For a brief moment, videos from Iran suggested a slight opening: more women appeared unveiled in public. Yet economic hardship deepened, demanding urgent reform.
It seems that 19 January is becoming the day I release my Christmas video every year!
This time, I’m releasing the video on Epiphany, as observed in the Eastern Orthodox Church calendar, rather than on its eve as I did last year.
Watch the new episode of Seasons & Streets, “Christmas from Korba to Shubra 25,” to explore the history of Baghdad Street in Heliopolis, as well as the long and fascinating story of Al-Tarea Al-Bolakia (the Bolakia Canal)—with additional background, photos, and even rare video footage from Cairo in the 19th century and early 20th century.
Once again, it’s worth noting that Epiphany is celebrated on 19 January by most Eastern Orthodox Churches (6 January in the Julian calendar, which corresponds to 19 January in the Gregorian calendar), including the Egyptian Coptic Orthodox Church.
Epiphany commemorates the baptism of Jesus Christ in the Jordan River by John the Baptist.
Back to the video—Inshallah, next time I will upload the video at the same time as the photos, whether on 25 December or 7 January.
It’s time for the second edition of our annual Egyptian Chronicles series: Christmas in Cairo, Vol. 2.
As always, this post features photos and videos of Cairo’s Christmas decorations as the city celebrates 7 January — Orthodox Christmas, observed by Orthodox Christian communities.
Merry Christmas to all those celebrating it.
The nativity scene at Saint Ibram shop
Okay, a brief social and historical note: most Christian Egyptians belong to the Coptic Orthodox Church of Alexandria, one of the oldest Christian churches in the world.
You might wonder why Christmas in Egypt is celebrated on 25 December and 7 January.
The difference comes down to the calendar. Most of the world uses the Gregorian calendar, which places Christmas on 25 December.
The Coptic Orthodox Church, however, follows the Julian calendar, which is currently 13 days behind — hence Coptic Christmas falling on 7 January.
Interestingly, in the early centuries of Christianity, the Eastern Church—in regions such as Egypt and Syria—celebrated Theophany on 6 January.
This was a single, “double feast” commemorating both the birth of Jesus and his baptism.
It was only later that Western Christianity separated the two events, assigning Jesus’ birth to 25 December, while the Eastern churches maintained their traditions in line with the Julian calendar.
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