The gates of our city will never be sealed— For I am going there to pray.
I will knock on every door— And the doors will open, one by one.
And you, O River Jordan, will wash my face With waters holy and pure.
And you, O River Jordan, will wipe away The footprints of the savage passing through.
When I saw the photos of Cardinal Pizzaballa standing in prayer outside the walls of Jerusalem’s Old City—barred from entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to mark Western Palm Sunday—I was reminded of the words of the Rahbani Brothers, immortalized in 1967 by Fairuz, the Lady of Lebanon, in “Zahrat al-Mada’en” (زهرة المدائن), meaning “The Flower of Cities.”
Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa holding the Palm Sunday Mass outside the walls of old Jerusalem "AFP"
Jerusalem’s doors were, indeed, closed to worshippers on Palm Sunday 2026—for the first time in centuries—under the Israeli occupation of the Old City.
The Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem and the Custody of the Holy Land said in a joint statement that, on the morning of Palm Sunday, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa, and the Custos of the Holy Land, Fr. Francesco Ielpo —also the official guardian of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre—were prevented from entering the church as they headed to celebrate Palm Sunday Mass.
And so, it turned out to be one last winter storm—not the beginning of a nuclear winter, as many online in Egypt feared on Tuesday.
In case you missed it, Egypt is currently experiencing a brief period of unstable weather, including thunderstorms and heavy rainfall.
The Egyptian Meteorological Authority (EMA) had issued early warnings, stating that the wave would begin on Tuesday evening, bringing rain, slightly cooler temperatures, and stronger winds across several regions before gradually improving by the weekend.
According to the EMA, the instability would start along the northwestern coast—including Salloum, Matrouh, and Alamein—before spreading to the Nile Valley and Sinai.
Rainfall was expected to intensify on Wednesday and Thursday, becoming more widespread and occasionally accompanied by thunderstorms, particularly along the northern coast, the northern Delta, and parts of Sinai. Lighter showers were forecast to reach Greater Cairo and the Canal cities.
For once, the Egyptian government took a proactive step, suspending classes in schools and universities on Wednesday and Thursday to spare millions of Egyptians the usual traffic chaos.
Ironically, Tuesday itself felt like a calm, early-spring day across the country.
That calm, however, fueled suspicion. Some began to believe something more sinister was coming—and within hours, that suspicion evolved into a full-blown conspiracy theory, amplified by a video from the Kuwait National Guard.
Watch this interview with Dr. Mohamed ElBaradei, former Vice President of Egypt and former Director General of the International Atomic Energy Agency, in which he discusses Iran and the current war.
ElBaradei speaks with David Hearst of Middle East Eye.
Mohamed ElBaradei was heading the IAEA when it began talks with Iran in 2009. He was also leading the UN’s nuclear watchdog in 2003 when he stated explicitly that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction.
What is happening to Iran, the Nobel Peace award laureate says, reminds him of Iraq—perhaps even worse, to be honest.
Happy Eid and Happy Nowruz to everyone celebrating this Friday and Saturday around the globe.
I know it is not the best time in the Middle East to celebrate anything, or even to be optimistic from a logical and realistic standpoint. But even in the darkest of moments, Eid and Nowruz bring happiness and solace to the believers.
On the occasion of Eid and Nowruz, I am sharing with you this sincere illustration by the famous Egyptian illustrator and painter Hussein Biccar.
Originally of Turkish Cypriot descent, Biccar was a Bahá'í and thus celebrated Nowruz as well.
Now, a word about greetings — "Eid Saeed," or Happy Eid, is what we say in Egypt. "Eid Mubarak" is a newer term imported from the Gulf. And yes, here in Egypt, "Mubarak" will always be Hosni Mubarak first!
Recently, I have noticed many non-Egyptians using "Eid Saeed," and it genuinely makes me happy.
First of all, the ending of the original Omar al-Nu’man was nothing like Taher Abu Fasha’s radio adaptation. In the original text, there is no kind-hearted Karkoub and no sweet wife; they were purely Abu Fasha’s additions, created to lighten the mood of the tale.
In the original version, Sharkan is killed by Shawahy, and Daw’ al-Makan eventually becomes King after a long, grueling journey. The original story of Omar al-Nu’man was not fun, easy, or light—it was a dark epic.
Scheherazade began the tale of Omar al-Nu’man on the 44th night of the One Thousand and One Nights and didn't finish it until the 145th. It took her 101 nights in total to tell the story, which means this single epic accounts for about 10% of the entire book.
You can find the original tale in the One Thousand and One Nights, available in both Arabic and English. “Vol.1 , Vol.2, Vol.3 and Vol.4”
Now, enough chit-chat.
Let us now see what is going to happen in the 113th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will find out the fate of the humble garbage man Karkoub after saving the day several times for al-Nu’man’s brothers—but first, it’s time for our usual chit-chat.
It is short, very short, as we are near the very end of our tale this year.
The actor voicing Karkoub, the kind-hearted garbage man, is the late Egyptian actor Kamel Anwar.
Although he is not widely known, lovers of black-and-white films like me recognise him well for his distinctive voice.
Kamel Anwar was born on 8 March 1912. He graduated from Al-Sa‘idiya School in 1925, where he was a classmate of Anwar Wagdi.
He began his career as an employee in the General Affairs Department of the Armed Forces before turning to acting, where he participated in military theatre and later worked with several theatrical troupes, including the famous Tholathy Adwaa El Masrah.
He also appeared in numerous films in supporting roles, including Cairo 30, Angel and Devil, and The Soft Hands.
Over the course of his career, he took part in nearly 100 artistic works across cinema, theatre, and radio series. He passed away on 20 September 1973.
Now, enough chit-chat.
Let us now see what is going to happen in the 112th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will find out what Karkoub will do behind enemy lines—but first, it’s time for our usual chit-chat.
We have previously discussed how Taher Abu Fasha set his version of the al-Nu’man saga in the pre-Islamic era. However, in the original tale from The Thousand and One Nights, the story is placed within the time of the Umayyad Caliphate.
Here, however, The Thousand and One Nights falls into a major literary issue: anachronism.
One striking inconsistency is that Omar al-Nu’man is portrayed as a king ruling from Baghdad—a city that was not founded until the Abbasid period, decades later. The saga effectively places him in Baghdad roughly 80 to 100 years before the city even existed.
When looking into the reason behind this, historians suggest that medieval compilers of the Nights in Egypt and Syria viewed Baghdad as the quintessential “City of Kings.” They simply could not imagine a great ruler without Baghdad as his capital, and so they projected the city backwards in time.
Another inconsistency is that Sharkan is depicted as the governor of Damascus, which was itself the capital of the Umayyads.
That said, in a vast and imaginative work of fiction like The Thousand and One Nights, such anachronisms remain relatively minor.
In the original tale of Omar al-Nu’man in The Thousand and One Nights, several real cities are explicitly mentioned.
Omar al-Nu’man is portrayed as the king of Baghdad and Khorasan. He appoints his eldest son, Sharkan, as governor of Damascus.
King Hardoub is the ruler of Caesarea, as in Taher Abu Fasha’s radio adaptation. However, Constantinople—the capital of the Byzantine Empire—is mentioned in the original text but omitted in Abu Fasha’s version.
Jerusalem and Mecca also appear multiple times. Shawahy travels to these places to learn more about Muslims. In addition, in the original tale, al-Nu’man’s twin sons journey to the Holy Land and Mecca on pilgrimage, passing first through Jerusalem—rather than going on a hunting trip, as depicted in the radio adaptation.
Aside from Caesarea, Abu Fasha largely replaces real locations with fictional cities in his version of the story.
Now, enough chit-chat.
Let us now see what is going to happen in the 110th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will know what the Dervish in the chest will bring to the al-Nu'man brothers' camp, but first, it is time for our chit-chat.
Last night, we spoke about how Storm Breaker in the original One Thousand and One Nights was called Shawahy zat al-Dawahy—Shawahy of many schemes.
Tonight, we explore her because she stands as one of the most powerful and wicked female figures in the Nights, to the point that she becomes a symbol of evil itself.
Shawahy is not your typical Queen Mother. In the version of the Nights I read, she is a sorceress among sorcerers—skilled in magic and deception. She is cunning, immoral, and deeply treacherous. She studies Islamic texts and travels widely, even journeying to Mecca and residing in Jerusalem in disguise, observing different religions and learning their inner workings.
She was also a bisexual woman who slept with men and women and sexually abused her granddaughter. It was among the main reasons why Abriza escaped with Sharkan.
Yes, this is one of the earliest encounters in the text with sexual abuse, incest, and same-sex relations. It is not presented erotically, but rather in a way that makes the reader despise the character.
After the tragic death of Abriza, King Hardoub—her father—seeks revenge. However, his elderly mother, Shawahy, takes it upon herself to exact vengeance without significant loss.
Her son agrees, and thus her scheme begins. She tells him, “Do not grieve. By God, I will not turn back until I kill King al-Nu’man and his sons. I will accomplish a deed that will leave even the cunning in awe, and people will speak of it across all lands.”
With cold precision, Shawahy defines her objective: to kill al-Nu’man and his sons.
This time, I promise it will be a short chit-chat.
One of the differences between the original Omar al-Nu’man in The Thousand and One Nights and al-Nu’man in Taher Abu Fasha’s adaptation is the character of Stormbreaker.
In the original text, she is called Shawahy zat al-Dawahy—which can be rendered as Shawahy of many schemes.
I am not sure why Abu Fasha changed her name, though he still used the phrase “of many schemes” in the radio version.
Now, enough chit-chat.
Let us now see what is going to happen in the 108th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
It won’t be about how history becomes myth, but rather about one of Egypt’s legendary supporting actors who plays a role in our tale. Tonight, I will speak about the late Egyptian actor.
Tonight’s chit-chat will not be about how history turns into myth, but rather about one of Egypt’s legendary supporting actors who plays a role in our tale. Tonight, I will speak about the late Egyptian actress Naima Wasfi.
Naima Wasfi plays the role of the wicked Stormbreaker, the scheming woman who got rid of al-Nu’man and was on the verge of sparking a civil war among his sons.
Wasfi was among the queens of supporting actors in Egypt and the Arab world during the 20th century.
Born in February 1923 to a middle-class family in Upper Egypt’s Assiut, Naima Wasfi’s theatrical talent began to emerge while she was still in primary school. She started her creative journey by writing short stories, poetry, and zajal (colloquial verse). Later, she worked as a teacher before eventually settling in Cairo.
In Cairo, she began frequenting theatres and gradually became acquainted with people in the artistic community. There, she met the actress Nagla Ibrahim, who encouraged her to pursue acting.
As a result, Naima Wasfi enrolled at the Institute of Dramatic Arts, founded by Zaki Tulaimat in the mid-1940s, and obtained her diploma in 1947. She was then appointed to the Modern Theatre Troupe, which Tulaimat had established for the institute’s graduates.
Wasfi later moved to the National Theatre Troupe. In 1952, she began her career in cinema, making her first appearances in Egyptian films. Over the course of her career, she appeared in more than 30 films.
In addition to acting, she also wrote several television series and worked on numerous radio shows.
Aside from her artistic work, Naima Wasfi wrote a weekly column in Rose al-Youssef magazine. A longtime socialist, she served as Secretary for Women’s Affairs in the Arab Socialist Union for the Greater Cairo area. She contributed to literacy campaigns that helped educate many young women.
She was married to the journalist Abdel Hamid Saraya after what was described as a great love story. The couple had three children.
Out of deep love for her husband, she later wrote a moving elegy after his death—a poem so painful that she rarely wished to speak about it.
Naima Wasfi passed away on 7 August 1983 at the age of 60.
Now, enough chit-chat.
Let us now see what is going to happen in the 107th episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Tonight’s chit-chat will not be about how history turns into myth, but rather about one of Egypt’s legendary actors who plays a role in our tale.
Tonight, I will speak about the late Egyptian legendary director and actor Nour El-Demerdash, who voiced Daw’ al-Makan.
Nour El-Demerdash was one of Egypt's most versatile figures in the world of performing arts, leaving a lasting mark on theatre, cinema, radio, and television over nearly five decades of creative work.
Born on November 12, 1925, in Tanta, in the Gharbia Governorate of Egypt, El-Demerdash first earned a bachelor’s degree in commerce in 1955, followed by a bachelor’s degree from the Higher Institute of Theatrical Arts in 1956.
He began his theatrical career working under the renowned Egyptian theater pioneer Zaki Tulaimat, an experience that shaped his disciplined approach to acting and storytelling.
On screen, Nour El-Demerdash became well known for portraying the charming young romantic lead — the charismatic playboy — in the 1950s
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will learn what happened to al-Nu’man’s offspring after learning of their father’s death.
But first, it is time for our little chit-chat.
After the arrest and subsequent execution of Al-Nu'man III ibn al-Mundhir by order of the Sasanian emperor Khosrow II, the Lakhmid rule over Al-Hirah in southern Iraq and parts of Arabia came to an end.
Khosrow II made sure of that by appointing Iyas ibn Qabisah al-Ta'i to govern Al-Hirah in place of the Lakhmids. But the story did not end there.
As we learned last night, al-Nu’man’s daughter Hind, a famous poetess and a Lakhmid Nestorian Christian princess, played a role in the falling-out between her father and the Sasanian Empire.
According to popular legend, Khosrow himself wished to marry Hind, but both she and her father rejected the proposal. The story goes that the Sasanian ruler then demanded that the Arabian tribes hand over Hind, along with the rest of her family and her father’s royal armor, as a sign of submission. The tribes, however, refused.
Historical sources suggest a slightly different version of the story. Some accounts say that it was not Khosrow himself but rather one of his relatives who sought Hind’s hand in marriage—and she rejected him. This rejection was among the factors that eventually led Khosrow to turn against al-Nu’man.
Events escalated quickly. The Lakhmid king fled his capital, Al-Hirah, and sought refuge among the powerful Banu Bakr. He was not alone—Hind was with him.
According to later traditions, Hind did not remain passive. She is said to have worked to encourage alliances among Arabian tribes to avenge the fall of her dynasty. Still, she was not the only reason for what would soon unfold.
The Banu Bakr confederation—an emerging political force stretching from southern Iraq deep into Arabia—was already unhappy with the rule of Iyas ibn Qabisah and the growing influence of the Sasanians in the region.
Eventually, the Banu Bakr tribes decided they had had enough. Against all odds, they confronted the powerful Sasanian Empire in battle —and won.
Muslim traditions place the battle anywhere between 602 and 624 CE, but according to modern scholarship cited in the Encyclopaedia Iranica, most historians now narrow the likely date to sometime between 604 and 611 CE.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will learn what happened to King al-Nu’man and how he ultimately met his fate. But first, it is time for our little chit-chat.
Our chit-chat tonight will focus on two things: what happened to the real historical inspiration behind our tale—Al-Nu'man III ibn al-Mundhir—and how his dramatic end marked the beginning of another ending: the fall of the Lakhmid kingdom and, not long after, the decline of the Sasanian Empire.
It also helped inspire one of the most famous pre-Islamic Arabian epics.
According to Arab historians, even though King al-Nu’man once gave refuge to the Sasanian King Khosrow II, son of Sasanian King Hormizd, during his flight from the usurper Bahram Chobin in 590, and even fought alongside him to help restore him to the throne, the two rulers eventually fell out.
According to legend, their falling-out happened after al-Nu’man rejected Khosrow’s proposal to marry his daughter, Princess Hind. Some historical accounts, however, suggest that the proposal may actually have come from one of Khosrow’s relatives rather than from the king himself.
But that was not the only reason for the rift. Al-Nu’man also fell out with his former tutor and the powerful Sasanian court official and Arab envoy Adi ibn Zayd. Accusing him of plotting against him, al-Nu’man ordered his execution. Adi’s son—who had the ear of Khosrow—then managed to turn the Persian ruler against al-Nu’man in what feels like a real-life Game of Thrones scenario.
No wonder that show was such a hit in the Middle East. Several historical traditions describe what happened once al-Nu’man realized that Khosrow intended to remove him from power. One famous Arabian account says that al-Nu’man fled his capital and sought refuge among the powerful Banu Bakr of Arabia. He was eventually forced to surrender and, according to the story, executed by being trampled by elephants.
Our chit-chat tonight will be about our tale’s title hero, al-Nu’man.
By now, you know that our tale for this Ramadan was inspired by an original One Thousand and One Nights story: the saga of King Omar al-Nu’man. One of the main differences between the original tale and our radio adaptation, trimmed for Egyptian State Radio by Taher Abu Fasha, is that the king’s name became al-Nu’man instead of Omar al-Nu’man.
It is unclear why Abu Fasha changed the name; frankly, it is beyond me. My only interpretation is that, just as he pushed the story back into pre-Islamic times, rather than the Umayyad era, as in the original tale, he may have chosen to focus on the root inspiration of the protagonist: al-Nu’man.
Anyone familiar with the history of Arabia and ancient Iraq will immediately recognize that inspiration. The most famous historical figure bearing that name was Al-Nu'man III ibn al-Mundhir, the last king of the Lakhmid kingdom of al-Hirah in ancient Iraq.
If you are familiar with Arabian myths and epics that predate The Book of One Thousand and One Nights, you will know that al-Nu’man and his family inspired some important legends and heroic tales.
The Lakhmid kingdom—commonly known in the Arab world as al-Manādhirah (المناذرة)—was an Arab kingdom that ruled parts of southern Mesopotamia and northeastern Arabia from the late 3rd century until 602 CE. It was governed by the Nasrid dynasty of the Banu Lakhm tribe, and its political center was the city of Al-Hirah.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, we will discover what King Sharkan and Princess Nuzhat al-Zaman will do to mend the tragic events reminiscent of a Greek tragedy—but first, it is time for our little chit-chat.
Did you know that the name Sharrkan is not a classical Arabic name?
It is believed to have Persian-inspired roots. The first part, “Sher”, means lion in Persian, while the second part, “Kan”, can suggest a den or place.
Together, storytellers interpreted it as “Lion’s Den.”
However, this is likely a literary invention rather than a historically attested Persian name. It was crafted to give the character a heroic and exotic flavor, fitting the world of One Thousand and One Nights.
That’s all for tonight’s chit-chat; I’ll keep it short.
Let us now see what will happen to al-Nu’man’s offspring in the 102nd episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, as we discover what happened to Princess Nuzhat al-Zaman and her fate as a slave girl—much like her mother, the Princess of Atrashan—it is time for our little chit-chat.
The original tale of King Umar al-Nu'man in One Thousand and One Nights, on which our story is based, is one of the most shocking narratives in the entire collection, particularly in the way it confronts taboos that resonate in both Eastern and Western storytelling traditions.
It is also one of the few tales in the original book that deals with incest, in a manner reminiscent of Greek tragedy, presenting the theme as a dark twist of fate and a moral warning about destiny and unintended consequences.
In the original story, King Umar al-Nu’man unknowingly fathers a child with his own daughter Nuzhat al-Zaman.
As a child, she had been kidnapped and separated from her family. Years later, she is purchased as a slave by her elder brother Sharkan.
Believing her to be a noble-born captive and not recognizing her true identity, he decides not to keep her but instead presents her as a gift to their father.
The tragic irony of the tale lies in the fact that Umar al-Nu’man dies without ever discovering the truth.
In his famous radio adaptation, however, Taher Abu Fasha chose not to present the story exactly as it appears in the original text.
Instead, he refined and reshaped it to suit a broader audience in Egypt and the Arab world, softening some of its most troubling elements.
And now, enough of our chit-chat. Let us return to our tale.
Let us now see what will happen to our lost prince in the 101st episode of One Thousand and One Nights, as originally broadcast on Egyptian State Radio.
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.
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