Ramadan Arabian Nights 2026: The Tale of King al-Nu’man “King Karkoub Ep.22”

And Happy Eid 😁 

Happy Eid to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.

Tonight, we reached the end of our tale, the tale of King al-Nu’man.

I hope it was a nice break away from politics.

I hope you enjoyed.

Now, before we find out what King Karkoub will do next, let’s have one more quick chat.

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.

Ep. 22 King Karkoub

The One Hundred and Thirteenth Night

When it was the one hundred and thirteenth night, and on the following evening, King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before. Shahrazad arrived at her usual hour, and the king rose to greet her, took her by the hand, and seated her in a place of honor. Then he listened as she began:

Shahrazad:
“It has reached me, O fortunate king of sound judgment, that when King Daw’ al-Makan raised the garbage man to the throne and named him King Al-Zablakan, Uncle Karkoub understood the weight of the responsibility placed upon him. He knew that a ruler is a shepherd, accountable for his people. Kingship consumed him, even making him forget himself, as he compared his present to his past.

Now, the kingdom held a grand council attended by nobles and dignitaries, convened once every year. When the time came, crowds gathered from everywhere to witness their new ruler, treating the day like a celebration.

As the royal procession arrived, the chief chamberlain hurried ahead to announce the Sultan’s entrance.

(Sound of a royal trumpet)

Chamberlain:
His Majesty, King Al-Zablakan!

(Karkoub enters, people laughing awkwardly)

Karkoub:
Well, well… go ahead, sit… what? What is it? Why are you laughing? What’s so funny? What’s going on? What are you laughing at?

One of the attendees:
Nothing… I just—

Karkoub:
Enough! Enough! Very amusing… Where is the minister?

Minister:
My lord!

Karkoub:
Step forward. Speak.

Minister:
I… my lord… we…

Karkoub:
You what? What is it? Why are you laughing?

Minister:
Nothing, Your Majesty.

Karkoub:
No, there is something! Speak, Minister—what is it?

Minister:
It’s nothing… it’s just when they saw you entering… and in your hand… (laughs)

Karkoub:
By God, I don’t understand—is this a kingdom or a comedy?

Minister:
You haven’t noticed, my lord.

Karkoub:
Noticed what?

Minister:
That thing in your hand…

Karkoub:
What about it? What is it?

Minister:
A broom!

Karkoub:
A broom? And what about it? Is it that funny?

Minister:
It’s just… not customary, Your Majesty…

Karkoub:
Customary? Do you even understand what this broom means? This broom is a symbol of cleanliness! I ask nothing from you but cleanliness—not just outside, but within. We need moral brooms to sweep away the dirt inside us. If we cleanse our hearts, life itself will become clear and livable.

Why should a man carry a handkerchief? Why not a broom? Which is more important, and whose purpose is greater? From this day on, our slogan shall be: The broom before the whip!

All (chanting):
The broom before the whip!

Minister:
Your Majesty, King Al-Zablakan—

Poet:
The poet, my lord!

Karkoub:
A poet too!

Poet:
To the tips—the noble tips—of your exalted broom, fragrant and pure, I send my greetings and my praise. May it be protected from wear and from being cast into the basket.

Karkoub:
Beautiful words! Minister?

Minister:
My lord!

Karkoub:
Reward the poet with five brooms!

Minister:
Five brooms? Five brooms fit for golden hands!

Poet:
Glory be to the Giver! O King Al-Zablakan, king of this age, may God multiply your brooms and prolong your life!

(Transition music – Karkoub muttering angrily)

Karkoub:
This is what happens when someone’s mother prays against him—he ends up a king! A king who knows nothing about kingship!

Karkouba:
Am I enjoying this with you? Am I living in comfort here?

Karkoub:
My soul is trapped here… I haven’t slept a single night, Karkouba.

Karkouba:
Here—call this food? Boiled water with vegetables and dry bread! Look at it!

Karkoub:
God help us… When we had nothing, we longed. And when we finally had everything… we were done with it! From the moment we arrived, you kept feeding me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m exhausted!

Karkouba:
And I’m exhausted too! Not a single day like the old days.

Karkoub:
Must you remind me of the past, Karkouba?

Karkouba:
Where are the days when you were just a garbage man?

Karkoub:
An honest bite of bread… it was sweet and satisfying.

Karkouba:
Ah, life… a person only knows the value of something once it’s gone.

Karkoub:
Now I understand what happiness really is. It’s not in status or wealth—happiness is peace of mind.

Minister (from outside):
My lord!

Karkoub:
Come in. Have they arrived?

Minister:
They’ve just arrived, my lord.

Karkoub:
Alright, I’m coming at once.

Karkouba:
Where are you going?

Karkoub:
I’ve been like this for two months! We can’t even enjoy our food—what’s the point of this kingship? I swear, I don’t know why they made me king! I’m exhausted…

Karkouba:
May God deal with whoever caused this!

Karkoub:
Don’t cry, Karkouba. Be patient. In a couple of days, we’ll slip out of this like a hair from dough. It’s a trial that fell upon us—may God relieve us and save us from this mess we’ve been dragged into.

Karkouba:
Ah… we’re sending the tribute in two days. Get ready—we’re leaving.”

And at King Daw’ al-Makan’s court.

Daw’ al-Makan:
King Al-Zablakan?

Karkoub:
Neither king nor sultan!

Daw’ al-Makan:
Uncle Karkoub!

Karkoub:
Daw’ al-Makan! How are you, my son?

Daw’ al-Makan:
All well now—your enemy is gone. I’m glad to see you… but why did you leave the kingdom?

Karkoub:
So you can appoint someone else in my place.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Appoint someone else? Why?

Karkoub:
Listen, my son… I’m not made for kingship. Not for ruling, not for power.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Why, Your Majesty King Al-Zablakan?

Karkoub:
Tell me—how long have you been king?

Daw’ al-Makan:
Ten years.

Karkoub:
And you sleep?

Daw’ al-Makan:
Of course I do!

Karkoub:
Lucky you… I’ve been king for two months—sixty days—and I haven’t slept once!

Daw’ al-Makan:
What could possibly keep you from sleeping?

Karkoub:
Don’t even ask. The whole world is in my head… all its troubles right in front of me. I’m done—find someone else to be your sultan.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Forgive me, uncle… but who in this world refuses a throne?

Karkoub:
The throne belongs to the one meant for it. I’m a garbage man—God created me that way—and I want to go back to being one.

Daw’ al-Makan:
That’s not something one says!

Karkoub:
Then what is?

Daw’ al-Makan:
It’s impossible!

Karkoub:
Impossible or not—do as you please. Fortune goes to those it favors.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Uncle Karkoub, this isn’t right…

Karkoub:
Right or not—don’t you want to honor me?

Daw’ al-Makan:
Of course I do.

Karkoub:
Then free me. Let me rest… I’m a simple man. Here—take it.

Daw’ al-Makan:
What’s this? The royal seal?!

Karkoub:
Peace be upon you!

Daw’ al-Makan:
Wait—where are you going?

Karkoub:
Back to earning my living. Enough of what I’ve been through.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Are you upset with me, uncle?

Karkoub:
Not at all, my son.

Daw’ al-Makan:
How can we live without you?

Karkoub:
If you allow me to visit, that’s more than enough.

Daw’ al-Makan:
No—you’re not leaving! Don’t be king if you don’t want to, but don’t leave me.

Karkoub:
My son, I must work to live.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Why work? There’s plenty of wealth.

Karkoub:
Wealth that doesn’t come from one’s own sweat is no true wealth.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Uncle…

Karkoub:
Don’t stop me, my son.

Daw’ al-Makan:
For my sake?

Karkoub:
If you truly want to honor me—let me go.

Daw’ al-Makan:
At least tell me where you’re going.

Karkoub:
I’ll come visit you… how could I ever forget you? You’re like a son to me—dearer than a son.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Then grant me one thing… as a memory.

Karkoub:
Anything, my son.

Daw’ al-Makan:
Take this…

Karkoub:
What is it?

Daw’ al-Makan:
My mother’s bead… No—don’t return it. If it stays with you, then I haven’t lost it.

Karkoub:
…Alright, my son. May I see your face in good health.

Daw’ al-Makan:
And yours too, uncle… don’t stay away too long.

Karkoub:
Farewell.

(Scene transition – sounds of laughter as Karkoub and Karkouba eat)

Karkoub (laughing):
Dry bread—but it tastes good!

Karkouba:
Bon appétit! Honest food… and here I am, a garbage man again.

Karkoub:
Now we’re down here, Karkouba—and those who are down don’t fall. And if they do, they don’t break. Before, we were up high—and those up high are always afraid of falling.

Karkouba:
Thank God… He saved us from the burden of kingship and returned us to our old life.

Karkoub (laughing):
Except for King Al-Zablakan! Don’t let your mind drift again, Karkouba!

Karkouba:
As if! Are you happy now?

Karkoub:
Very happy! Thank God—this is more than enough. Any more than this and it would spoil! May God grant you long life, master of garbage men!

Karkouba:
Karkouba!

Karkoub:
O lady of Zablakan! (they both laugh)

Shahrazad:
And they all lived in happiness and peace of mind, until the destroyer of pleasures and divider of gatherings came upon them. Glory be to the Ever-Living who never dies, in whose hand lies all dominion.

(Sound of a rooster crowing)

And here, Shahrazad saw the morning had come, and she fell silent, ending her tale.

Till next Ramadan inshallah 👏

You can check the previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.

In the spirit of Ramadan, I invite you to support UNICEF’s relief efforts in Gaza and Sudan, as well as other places in the globe. Every pound, dollar, or euro can make a difference.