Ramadan Kareem to all Egyptian Chronicles readers.
Tonight, as we await whether Daw’ al-Makan will find his twin sister, it is time for our little chitchat.
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.
The narrative even mentions the famous general Hassan ibn al-Nu'man, a real historical figure who served as the Umayyad governor of North Africa under Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan and his son Al-Walid I.
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.
The prince thanked him but continued the conversation, and the garbage collector reminded the chief of a boy and a girl they had once found wandering in the wilderness some five months before.
At that the chief remembered.
‘Ah, yes,’ said he, ‘the beautiful girl and the sick young man. I shall never forget that youth—wrapped in the garments of illness and sorrow. His tears would shake the desert, and the cry of his pain still echoes in my ears. And I shall never forget the tears of the girl when we cast him aside.’
Hearing these words, Prince Daw’ al-Makan cried out:
‘Woe upon you! It was you who threw him away?’
The chief replied simply:
‘Yes, it was we.’
But the garbage collector quickly intervened to calm the matter, saying that God had saved the youth after all.
Then the prince said:
‘I am a stranger who has come seeking your protection. Do you remember the girl who was with that youth?’
The chief answered:
‘Indeed I remember the girl. I shall never forget her tears.’
‘Then where is she?’ the prince asked.
The chief sighed and said:
‘You have come too late, my friend.’
The prince trembled and cried:
‘Has she died?’
But the chief replied:
‘No—she did not die. We sold her.’
At these words the prince was struck with astonishment.
‘You sold her?’
The garbage collector added:
‘She fetched a thousand dinars.’
The prince asked anxiously:
‘And who bought her?’
The chief answered:
‘The chief of the slave merchants.’
‘And where is this man now?’
‘He is in a place called Safandat al-‘Ars.’
The travelers asked in confusion where that place might be, and the chief told them:
‘Between us and that city lie two full years of travel.’
When they heard this, both the prince and the garbage collector were overcome with shock.
‘Two years!’ they cried.
The chief shrugged and said:
‘God alone is the helper.’
Then he insisted that they remain as guests among the Bedouins for two days according to the custom of hospitality, promising to give them strong camels for the long journey afterward. But the garbage collector protested, saying that with a journey of two years ahead of them there was no time to delay.
And thus the matter stood between them.”
Then the scene changed.
A mournful song rose in the distance, mingled with weeping.
Prince Daw’ al-Makan wept bitterly and cried:
“My sister… my sister Nuzhat al-Zaman!”
But the garbage collector Karkoub tried to console him and said:
“Do not weep so, my son. Perhaps God will yet return her to you in goodness. For many years we ourselves have searched for her and could find no trace. Commit the matter to God and accept His decree.”
But Daw’ al-Makan answered in anguish:
“How can I accept it, Uncle Karkoub? How can I?”
And Karkoub replied gently:
“My son, you will destroy yourself with grief. A man must surrender his affairs to God and meet destiny with patience.”
At that moment there arose the noise of approaching travelers—the clamor of a caravan passing along the road.
Karkoub stopped one of the men and asked him:
“Brother, what is this caravan?”
The man replied:
“The Grand Chamberlain is traveling with his bride to King Al‑Nu‘man.”
At this both Daw’ al-Makan and Karkoub exclaimed in surprise:
“King Al-Nu‘man?!”
“Yes,” said the man. “King Al-Nu‘man.”
Daw’ al-Makan asked anxiously:
“And are we now in the lands of King Al-Nu‘man?”
The traveler answered:
“You stand upon the border. These are the lands of Marjan.”
Karkoub then asked:
“When will this caravan depart?”
The man laughed and said:
“Why, it is already moving before your eyes.”
So Karkoub turned quickly to Daw’ al-Makan and cried:
“Hurry, hurry! Let us fetch your Aunt Karkouba so that we may travel!”
“Travel where?” asked the prince.
“To the lands of King Al-Nu‘man! By heaven, we have arrived!”
But Daw’ al-Makan said in confusion:
“Arrived where?”
“You will understand later,” Karkoub replied. “Later! By God, are we to spend our whole lives wandering from place to place? God alone is our helper.”
So they joined the caravan as it moved along the desert road.
And as they traveled, Daw’ al-Makan began to sing in a voice heavy with sorrow:
“O camel drivers,
Take me with you,
That I may behold my people once again…”
Now it happened that among the travelers was a curtained litter carrying a noble lady. When she heard the youth’s mournful song, her heart trembled, and she cried out from within the litter:
“You have broken my heart with your singing. Have mercy on your youth, my son!”
But she did not know that the singer was none other than her own brother.
For the lady was Nuzhat al-Zaman herself.
At once the guards of the caravan rushed forward and seized Daw’ al-Makan and Karkoub.
One of them said sternly:
“You there—both of you! Who was the one singing?”
Karkoub replied nervously:
“Why do you ask?”
“The princess wishes to speak with him.”
“The princess?” cried Karkoub in alarm. “What have we done? Why would the princess want us?”
The guard insisted again:
“Who among you was singing?”
Karkoub tried to deny it, but the guard accused him of lying.
Then Daw’ al-Makan stepped forward bravely and said:
“Why do you threaten me? I was the one singing.”
The guard nodded.
“Then come with me. The princess wishes to speak with you.”
Karkoub protested loudly, fearing trouble, but the guards led Daw’ al-Makan away despite his objections.
And Karkoub remained behind calling anxiously:
“Daw’ al-Makan! Daw’ al-Makan! Daw’ al-Makan!”
And before the tale was complete, the dawn overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent until another night.
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