Egypt bid farewell on Wednesday to the celebrated novelist Sonallah Ibrahim, who passed away after a long struggle with illness.
Ibrahim was one of the last surviving figures of the 1960s–1970s literary wave in Egypt and the Arab world. Born in Cairo in 1937 to Ibrahim Mahmoud, a leftist civil servant at the Ministry of Education, he was exposed early to progressive political thought.
Despite his father’s leftist convictions, Ibrahim was given a strikingly religious name. Mahmoud found the name “Sonallah” (“God’s creation” or “Allah’s made”) in the Holy Quran and chose it for his son—unaware that it would one day become truly unique in Egypt’s literary and cultural life.
Sonallah Ibrahim studied law at Cairo University, graduating in 1959—the same year he was arrested during a crackdown on leftists and imprisoned for more than five years under Nasser. Yet, when asked who his favourite president was, he still named Nasser—despite being critical of the Nasserist era and having spent much of it behind bars. I will never fully understand this complex bond between Nasser and Egypt’s leftist intelligentsia, especially writers and poets who endured his prisons.
After his release in 1964, Ibrahim briefly returned to journalism in Cairo before leaving Egypt to pursue work and writing abroad. He first spent time in Paris and then moved to East Berlin, where from 1968 to 1971 he worked as an editor for the Arabic service of the German Press Agency (ADN). Immersed in Europe’s leftist politics and intellectual ferment, he absorbed the radical spirit of the 1960s, which left a lasting mark on his worldview and literary style.
This post was revised by both Chat-GPT and Deepseek for correction, as language models, both AI models checked the theories in their own language, which is English.
This post is actually a pilot of a series of posts dedicated to the prophecies of the Middle East in the Bible, which Christian Zionists use to mess up the Middle East every couple of years.
“Damascus will cease from being a city.” — Book of Isaiah, Chapter 17
This verse from the Book of Isaiah went viral online on Wednesday, shortly after the Israeli airstrike on Damascus, the Syrian capital.
It was shared by a wide range of people—from devout American evangelicals to some inexplicably cheerful Assad supporters.
This well-known prophecy from Isaiah 17:1 (KJV) reads:
"The burden of Damascus. Behold, Damascus is taken away from being a city, and it shall be a ruinous heap."
The verse is part of a prophetic oracle, a biblical term referring to a divine message delivered by a prophet—typically announcing judgment, destruction, or doom upon a particular nation or city.
Damascus is one of several ancient cities mentioned in Isaiah’s oracles of judgment. At the time, it was the capital of the Aramean Kingdom, a political rival to both Judah and Israel (Samaria).
The prophecy foretells that Damascus will cease to exist as a city and will become a “ruinous heap.”
But here’s the problem: Damascus has been destroyed more times than San Francisco in a Hollywood disaster film—and it never actually ceased to be.
It feels like the invasion of Iraq all over again. Donald Trump is pushing the United States toward a confrontation—this time with Iran—following nearly a week of Israel’s failure to compel Tehran into submission to Benjamin Netanyahu’s demands.
In just a few days, the narrative has shifted from halting Iran’s alleged nuclear weapons program to escalating tensions on a much broader scale. It’s worth noting, just as in the lead-up to the Iraq War, that the IAEA has no evidence of a systematic Iranian effort to develop nuclear weapons.
It’s déjà vu—once again, God’s foreign policy is being invoked in the Middle East.
This post was originally planned to focus on how Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu uses religious rhetoric to influence both Israeli society and the broader Jewish community—an approach amplified when U.S. President Donald Trump shared a message he received from the U.S. ambassador to Israel, former pastor Mike Huckabee.
That SMS is like something from G.W. Bush Jr's divine orders to invade Iraq. For the second time in less than 50 years, the Middle East is being dragged into the hell of neo-crusades.
Happy Eid al-Adha from Egyptian Chronicles to all Muslims around the world who are celebrating, despite many of our fellow Muslims, especially in Gaza and Sudan, being unable to do so this year.
A son of sheep vendors in Egypt hugging a lamb Amr Abdullah for Reuters
Many share a deep frustration during this Eid due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Countless voices echo the poignant verses of the renowned poet Abu Tayyib Al-Mutanabbi.
عيدٌ بأيِّ حالٍ عدتَ يا عيدُ O Eid, with what condition have you returned?
بمثلِ هذا الحالِ، هل تعودُ عيدُ؟ With such a state, can you really be Eid?
Al-Mutanabbi composed this 30-verse poem just one day before leaving Egypt, on the Day of Arafah in the year 350 AH (around Eid al-Adha). The poem expresses his profound sadness and longing as he awaited Eid to bring good news and reunion with loved ones after a year of separation during his stay in Egypt. At the same time, the poem carries a sharp tone of satire and criticism towards the ruler of Egypt, then-Kafur al-Ikhshidi, as Al-Mutanabbi’s ambitions for power and prestige there remained unfulfilled.
The poem has become famous for its first line, “O Eid, with what condition have you returned?”
Here are the Takbeerat of Eid with the sounds of artillery shelling east of Gaza City earlier today.
Nevertheless, it is Eid al-Adha, a time when we, as Muslims, remember how the pilgrimage in the Holy Land is a living reenactment of the moment when Lady Hagar and baby Prophet Ismail were stranded in the desert—what would later become Mecca. Although the situation seemed desperate, Lady Hagar’s faith and patience led to the miraculous emergence of the Zamzam well, which saved them and eventually brought life to Mecca, according to Islamic tradition.
Lady Hagar never abandoned her faith in God, despite the hopelessness of her circumstances.
Personally, this is my first Eid without someone very close to my heart—my aunt, who was like a second mother and an older sister to me—after what can only be described as a short yet bitter battle with illness. May Allah bless her soul and grant patience to me and all those facing similar losses.
I’m not yet ready to fully speak about this, but the past weeks have been difficult, and I am still trying to come to terms with this new reality. This is why I haven’t blogged regularly since mid-Ramadan. Nevertheless, I am beginning to catch up.
Nevertheless, it is Happy Eid.
Happy Eid al-Adha to all, and hopefully, insha’Allah, an Eid miracle will happen for both Palestinians and Sudanese.
A Little Break Post – Escaping the Depressing News from the Middle East and Beyond
In case you missed it, American pop star Katy Perry, journalist Gayle King, Lauren Sánchez (Jeff Bezos’ fiancée), and three other women travelled on Monday aboard a Blue Origin suborbital space tourism flight.
Blue Origin, owned and operated by Bezos, launched this all-female crew on a short journey beyond Earth's atmosphere. According to media reports, Sánchez personally selected the crew members for this flight.
This “trip” reached the Kármán line — the commonly accepted boundary between Earth’s atmosphere and outer space — which lies at an altitude of 100 kilometres (62 miles).
As expected, the 10-minute flight — filled with awkwardly staged moments, especially those featuring Katy Perry — quickly turned into a meme fest online.
Some U.S. mainstream media outlets and social media users even went so far as to claim it was the first all-female trip to space.
That’s not only factually incorrect — it's also a bit offensive.
So, to set the record straight: the first "all-female space mission" wasn't in 2024. It happened in 1963, and the entire crew was Valentina Tereshkova.
Valentina Tereshkova and the Pyramids generated by Chat-GPT as risograph print
The real pioneer of an all-female spaceflight was Soviet cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova, who made history in June 1963.
Tonight we will continue our tale, the “Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima", and know the fate of our Halima after what happened to her last night, but first we will have our little chitchatز
As a master folklorist, Taher Abu Fasha frequently drew inspiration from cultures worldwide. Without giving too much away, tonight’s episode will explore a theme that appears in many myths and traditions — the motif of seven magical beings, particularly seven enchanted birds.
The story follows a young girl who discovers that she once had seven brothers, transformed into birds by a curse. The misfortune began when her parents, desperate to fetch water for her baptism, uttered words of frustration that doomed the boys.
On learning of their fate, the girl embarks on a long and perilous journey to rescue them. She eventually reaches the glass mountain where they dwell and, in some versions, sacrifices her own finger to unlock its gate — a final act of devotion that breaks the curse and restores her brothers to human form.
Now we will stop talking about honey, and let’s continue our tale.
And without further delay, here is the 697th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 25th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Tonight we will continue our tale, the “Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima but first we will talk again about Honey.
Honey occupied a central role in Islamic and broader Arabic civilization — spiritually, scientifically, and culturally. It was more than just food or medicine; it was seen as divine, poetic, and deeply embedded in early Islamic thought.
It is one of the few natural substances explicitly praised in the Qur’an:
"يَخْرُجُ مِن بُطُونِهَا شَرَابٌ مُّخْتَلِفٌ أَلْوَانُهُ فِيهِ شِفَاءٌ لِّلنَّاسِ" “From within their bellies comes a drink of varying colors, in which there is healing for mankind.” — Surat An-Nahl (16:69)
The chapter’s very name — An-Nahl (The Bee) — underscores the significance of honey in Islamic teachings. Classical Qur’anic commentators such as Ibn Kathir and Al-Tabari emphasized this verse as evidence of honey’s divinely ordained healing power.
Prophet Muhammad ﷺ frequently recommended honey. In a hadith from Sahih al-Bukhari, a man approached the Prophet, saying his brother had a stomach ailment. The Prophet advised him to give his brother honey — not once, but three times — and eventually, the man was cured.
During the Islamic Golden Age (8th–13th centuries), honey held a prominent place in medical theory and practice. Ibn Sina (Avicenna) mentioned honey extensively in The Canon of Medicine, prescribing it for skin diseases, infections, fevers, and as a preservative for other medications. He believed honey could strengthen the body and prolong life.
Al-Razi (Rhazes), another pioneering physician, often mixed honey with herbs to create syrups and poultices and used them for wound care due to their antiseptic properties.
In Islamic tradition, honey was considered both a remedy and a sunnah — used to treat digestive issues, sore throats, wounds, and to nourish the body overall.
Now we will stop talking about honey, and let’s continue our tale.
And without further delay, here is the 696th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 24th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Tonight, we are introduced to a new character, as you may have guessed from the title of our night, “Prince Karwan”
In Classical Arabic, Karwan or الكروان typically refers to a curlew, which is a type of wading bird known for its long, curved bill and distinctive, melancholic call.
A curlew or a Karwan
However, in Egyptian Arabic, especially in literature and songs, Karwan is often used more poetically to refer to a nightingale or a songbird—a bird with a beautiful voice.
Curlews live in Egypt, mostly as migratory birds. Thanks to its location along the East Africa–West Asia Flyway, Egypt serves as an important stopover and wintering site for many migratory species, including curlews. While they are not permanent residents, curlews are regular visitors during the autumn and spring migration seasons.
Thanks to its location along the East Africa–West Asia Flyway, Egypt serves as an important stopover and wintering site for many migratory species, including curlews. While they are not permanent residents, curlews are regular visitors during the autumn and spring migration seasons.
While not extremely common, nightingales can be found in Egypt’s gardens, groves, and along the Nile, particularly during migration seasons or in more temperate, vegetated areas.
Egypt is also home to a diverse array of songbirds, both native and migratory, thanks to its strategic location on major migratory routes and its varied habitats.
Now we will stop talking about birds and let’s continue our tale.
And without further delay, here is the 695th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 23rd night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Tonight, there will be a mention about honey in our radio night tonight as you can guess from the headline, so our talk is about honey.
I believe that honey — and beekeeping in particular — represents one of the major civilizational leaps in the story of humanity. It’s a practice that took years, if not decades, of discovery, experimentation, and understanding. It involves not only the domestication of animals — or rather, insects like bees—but also the cultivation of crops, or in this case, honey itself. Without doubt, it’s a significant milestone in human development.
You may be surprised to learn that the oldest confirmed use of honey by humans comes from Mesolithic Spain, around 8,000 BCE, thanks to the Cuevas de la Araña, or the Spider Caves, in Valencia. There, prehistoric cave art depicts a figure — known as the “Man of Bicorp” — climbing with the help of ropes and a basket to collect honey from a wild beehive.
This isn’t beekeeping yet — it's wild honey hunting — but this ancient art proves that early humans valued and actively sought out honey more than 10,000 years ago.
Now, the oldest known civilization to practice actual beekeeping is none other than ancient Egypt. According to archaeologists, beekeeping appears in Egyptian hieroglyphs as early as 2450 BCE, during the Old Kingdom period.
There, temple walls bear detailed scenes of a sophisticated honey industry: clay hives, workers smoking bees, and the careful collection and storage of honey.
Reaching this level of complexity by the 5th Dynasty suggests that beekeeping was already a well-established industry in ancient Egypt.
And without further delay, here is the 694th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 22nd night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Tonight, we’ll speak about Mishkah and his history. Some believe it was Taher Abu Fasha who created the infamous duo of Mishkah and Reema. Interestingly, however, he did not invent them—both Mishkah and Reema already existed in Arab folklore.
There’s an old Egyptian proverb that says, “Run, Mishkah, for the one sitting in comfort.” The term Mishkah (with a kasra under the “m”) refers to someone constantly on the move, usually working hard for the benefit of someone else who remains idle. It echoes the sentiment of the saying: “Many strive for the comfort of another.” This appears in the 1949 book The Encyclopedia of Egyptian Folk Proverbs, described as the most important guide to Egyptian proverbs.
In a way, this describes our Mishkah exactly—always striving to please Reema.
The duo of Mishkah and Reema already existed in the world of proverbs and folklore. Taher Abu Fasha didn’t invent them; he revived them, giving them new life in 20th-century Egypt, where they came to represent a cunning, evil pair in modern Egyptian pop culture.
Even earlier, in Al-Mustatraf by the 14th-century Egyptian writer Mohamed Al-Abshihi—yes, you read that right—Mishkah appears alongside Reema as a couple: “They married Mishkah to Rima—neither of them is worth much.”
I also found references to this couple in Levantine folklore, where they were portrayed as equally deceitful. In one tale—unfortunately without a clearly traceable source—Mishkah asks Reema for money to buy his favorite grilled meat. Instead, her wicked side emerges: she roasts a rat and serves it to him, then urges him to falsely accuse the kind restaurant owner of serving it.
Mishkah, after eating his fill, screams publicly, drawing a crowd—and successfully extorts both meat and money.
That, indeed, is Mishkah and Reema.
Anyhow, let’s stop speaking about Mishkah and let’s see what he is going to do tonight.
And without further delay, here is the 693rd episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 21st night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
Recently, I came across a note suggesting that Gamal Ismail, in his younger years, was also the voice actor who portrayed Mishkhah in the original radio version.
I'm not entirely sure, though. I'm familiar with Ismail’s voice when he was young, and sometimes Mishkhah sounds like someone else — perhaps an older actor. Yet in some moments, it does sound like him. I honestly can’t say for certain.
If it were him, then that would make Gamal Ismail the third member of the original radio cast to appear in the 1987 TV adaptation.
Gamal Ismail was born in Al-Sharqia Governorate in 1932. He earned a Bachelor of Arts in History from Ain Shams University in 1957 and a degree from the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts in 1956. He joined the model troupes of the Popular Theatre, which were affiliated with the Department of Fine Arts. In 1958, he was appointed a theatre inspector in Alexandria Governorate.
He directed school and university performances, as well as company events. In 1961, he helped form a poetry arts troupe, and later joined the Television Theatre Company — and the rest, as they say, is history.
A versatile actor, Gamal Ismail was considered one of the finest supporting actors of his generation, particularly in comedy.
He was the brother of two other celebrated figures in Egyptian arts: the legendary composer Ali Ismail, known for creating some of Egypt’s greatest songs and film scores, and Anwar Ismail, an actor best known for his roles as a villain in Egyptian cinema.
Clearly, the Ismail household was a true home of the arts — giving Egypt some of the finest artists of the 20th century.
Gamal Ismail was once married to the late Egyptian-Lebanese actress and belly dancer Shushu Ezz El-Din.
He passed away in December 2013, leaving behind a rich legacy in Egyptian drama.
That’s our chit-chat for tonight.
And without further delay, here is the 692nd episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 20th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
Episode 20th: Reema returns
And it was the ninety-second night after the six hundredth, and on that following night, King Shahryar once again took his seat in the chamber of storytelling. As was her wont, Scheherazade appeared at the appointed hour, took her usual place before the king, and resumed her tale, while the king, ever eager, lent her his ear, and she spoke:
It is said, O wise and just King, that when the maiden Karima vanished without a trace and no tidings came of her, her sisters—Fatima and Halima—fell into great sorrow and confusion. Their tongues wavered in disagreement, and their hearts grew heavy with fear, especially after Mishkah told them of the affair with the apples: how it first occurred with Reema, and then again with Karima.
A day passed, and despair took root in their breasts. Grief crept over them like a cold shadow. As they sat speaking, burdened with sorrow and pondering their sister’s fate, there came a knock upon the door.
Their hearts stirred with alarm, and Fatima hastened to the entrance, with Halima close behind.
Fatima: Who could it be? Halima: By God, may it be Karima! Reema (from behind the door): Open, Karima! Karim, open up! Fatima (in astonishment): Aunt Reema?! Mishkah: Reema?! May God bring all to safety. Reema: Open the door, Karima! Halima: Alright, alright, Aunt Reema, we’re coming! (Together, Fatima and Halima cry out): Aunt Reema! Reema (looking about): Then where is Karima? Halima: Did she not come to you, Aunt? Reema: Come to me? Where would she go, sister? Mishkah: And you—where were you, Reema? Reema: I’m asking you about Karima! Where has she gone?
Tonight, we will know what happened to Karima when she returned to the realm of Jinn thanks to her auntie Reema.
But first, our little chitchat.
We can’t escape politics, as it seems, because we live in the Middle East. This is what I realised when I heard the name of “Golan”, which Taher Abu Fasha used as the name of the great Sultan of Jinn in our tale for this Ramadan.The
The Golan Heights of Syria has a very rich history, and it does not start with the Israeli invasion and occupation in 1967 nor even with the migration of the Israelite tribes as mentioned in the Bible, where it acquired the name of Golan.
The Golan Heights has a long and rich history of human settlement dating back to prehistoric times.
Archaeological evidence shows that the area was inhabited by hunter-gatherers as early as the Palaeolithic period.
The Venus of Berekhat Ram (280,000–250,000 BP) is a figurine found at Berekhat Ram on the northeastern Golan Heights. The pebble has been modified by early humans and is believed to represent a female human figure. It is one of the oldest artefacts ever discovered in the Middle East, with an estimated age of 280,000–250,000 BP. The figurine was found by archaeologists from the Hebrew University and is currently on display at the Israel Museum.
By the Bronze Age, the Golan was part of the broader ancient Near East, home to various Canaanite and Amorite groups. These early inhabitants were followed by Israelite tribes during the conquest of Canaan, as mentioned in biblical texts.
Over the centuries, the region saw the rise of various kingdoms and empires, including the Amorites, the Arameans, and later the Romans, who built several cities in the Golan.
The ancient Egyptians also passed through the Golan, as it lay along key trade and military routes connecting Egypt to the Levant and Mesopotamia.
Egyptian forces, traders, and officials likely traversed the area during military campaigns in the Levant, and their influence can be seen in the Egyptian-style pottery found in ancient Levantine sites.
Unlike other heights and due to its unique plateau region, the Golan was an open battlefield. It is part of the Levant that has witnessed little peace.
It is Syrian, and it will be Syrian
We will leave it for now and escape to the land of fantasy.
So, without further delay, here is the 691st episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 19th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
In the radio version, Fatima, Halima, and Karima are portrayed by three different actresses, as you can tell from their distinct voices. However, in the television adaptation, all three characters are played by the same actress—the diva herself, Sherihan. She presents them as triplets with personalities reminiscent of the Powerpuff Girls, but without the superpowers: Fatima is the serious one, Halima is bubbly, and Karima is prideful.
That would be the most successful and popular season of the TV One Thousand and One Nights Sherihan had presented on screen.
So, without further delay, here is the 690th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 18th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
Episode 18: The token of gratitude
When the six hundred and ninety-first night had arrived, King Shahryar took his seat as he had the previous evening, and Scheherazade entered at her usual time. The king welcomed her warmly, admired her beauty, and seated her in the place of highest honor. Then, Scheherazade began to recount her tale:
"It has reached me, O wise and fortunate king, that when Reema fell back into her old ways, overcome by her criminal instincts, she fabricated a tale and told it to King Golan, claiming it as her own. The king grew furious and wished to verify Reema’s words—if she spoke the truth, he would reward her generously, but if she had lied, she would face her punishment.
Thus, Sultan Golan seized her and carried her off to the Land of the Jinn, where he hid her in his chambers while setting his plan in motion. His suspicions soon proved correct, and he uncovered the conspiracy. Justice was served—the treacherous Sultan was punished, and the ghoul Bahloul met his end.
Believing that Reema had exposed the crime, saving his life and reuniting him with his sons, the Sultan was filled with gratitude. Prince Zahran had returned, the people of the Jinn rejoiced, and the Sultan wished to repay kindness with kindness. He summoned Reema to the royal court, and thus, the events now unfold before us."
Tonight we will know what will happen to Reema in the realm of Jinn after meeting their Sultan Golan, “Correct spelling” after he claimed to be an apple seller.
So without further delay, here is the 689th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 17th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
Episode 17: Rima saves the Sultan of Jinn
And so, on the six hundred and eighty-ninth night, when the new evening arrived, King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before. No sooner had he settled than Scheherazade entered, greeted him, and took her place before him. She then resumed her tale and continued with the story.
Scheherazade spoke:
*"It has been told to me, O wise and fortunate king, that Rima returned to her old habit of stealing stories, claiming Kareema’s tale as her own and recounting it to the Sultan as if it had happened to her. But at that moment, King Golan revealed his true identity. Without hesitation, he seized Rima and flew with her to the land of the jinn, hiding her from all his servants to catch the Sultan off guard and expose the betrayal. Thus, he remained firm in his plan, concealing her in his chamber until nightfall.
When evening came, the dinner table was set, and the Sultaness dismissed all the servants. She sat alone with the Sultan, and what happened next is what we now witness..."*
Sultan Golan: "So, tell me, my Sultaness, where do we go from here?"
Sultaness Marjana: "Oh, my lord, why not just enjoy the meal?"
So without further delay, here is the 688th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 16th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima
Episode 16: The Apple seller
And so, Scheherazade arrived at the appointed hour, greeted the king, and took her seat beside him. Then, she continued her tale, weaving together the threads of the story.
"It has been told to me, O wise and fortunate king, that when Reema heard Kareema's story, she took Mishkah and made her way to the abandoned ruins. As she conversed with him, a fruit vendor passed by, calling out his wares—apples so fair they rivaled rosy cheeks, apples that blended with peaches. When the vendor caught sight of Reema’s apple, he asked for its tale. Reema, in turn, sent Mishkah to fetch the rest of the apples, while the vendor settled in, eager to listen.
Now, Reema fell back into her old ways—she took Karima’s story and spun it as her own, telling it with such conviction that it seemed as if it had truly happened to her. But as she spoke, the vendor suddenly transformed before her eyes. He was none other than Sultan Jolan himself, the very king Kareema had glimpsed in the garden. His fury was like a raging storm—he seized Reema and took to the skies, carrying her away to the land of the jinn. And thus, the tale unfolds before us now.
Reema: Who… who are you?
Sultan Jolan: Do not be afraid, O daughter of men.
Reema: What have you done to me?
Sultan Jolan: I merely took what was mine. Your tale is not yet complete, and you are here, hidden away where no one knows of your existence—no one but me and the Lord above.
Reema: By your mercy, my lord! I only sought to provide for my children.
Tonight, we will learn what Karima did in the cave of the Ghoul after she found herself in another realm and how one thing leads to another.
But first, a little chitchat, and tonight's chitchat is about the recurring guest star villain of the Arabian Nights tales, the Ghoul.
The ghoul (الغول) is a supernatural creature from pre-Islamic Arabian folklore, often depicted as a monstrous, shape-shifting being that lurks in desolate places, preying on travelers and consuming human flesh. While the legend is deeply embedded in Islamic folklore and 1001 Nights, its origins may trace back to ancient Mesopotamia.
The Gallu demons of Sumerian and Akkadian mythology were terrifying spirits that dragged victims to the underworld, often associated with wilderness and destruction—similar to how the ghoul was feared for lurking in abandoned ruins and deserts.
Additionally, the Mesopotamian Edimmu, restless spirits of the unburied dead, shared the ghoul’s eerie connection to graveyards and the afterlife.
Over time, the ghoul evolved into a prominent figure in Arabic folklore, blending influences from earlier Mesopotamian myths with local Arabian superstitions.
Though ancient Egypt did not have an identical creature, it had Ammit, the "Devourer of the Dead," who consumed the hearts of the impure, reflecting a similar fear of being devoured as punishment.
And that’s it for our chitchat.
So without further delay, here is the 687th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 15th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
There is no chitchat tonight due to the length of the episode.
So without further delay, here is the 686th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 14th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Episode 14: Half Apple, Half Peach
King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before, and Scheherazade arrived at her appointed hour. She stepped forward and withdrew, greeted him with a bow, and, when granted leave, began from where she had left off:
It has been told, O wise and just King, that when Fatima returned home without the oil, Rima was seized with fury. She cast upon her niece the weight of her doubts, riddled her with accusations, and hurled words of ill-temper. But Karima, standing between them, said:
"We have no need for oil tonight to light the house, for the moon is full, its glow complete, and I shall spin by its light upon the rooftop."
And Halima, her sister, added, "We have no need for lamps nor even the moon. We shall sleep now and wake at dawn’s first light."
Then Rima retired to her chamber, Halima lay down to sleep, and Karima ascended to the rooftop.
And when the morning came, spreading its light across the land, the two sisters looked about them but found no sign of Karima. Fear clutched at their hearts, and Fatima rushed up to the rooftop, searching high and low, yet she found no trace of her.
At this, Rima was seized by panic, lashing out like a raging beast or a storm-tossed sea. She scorned the innocent girls with cutting words and berated them without end—until they heard a knock upon the door.
They rushed to open it, and lo! It was Karima, standing before them with apples in her hands. At once, all eyes turned to her, and voices clamored for answers.
Rima: "Where have you been? And why have you returned so late?"
Karima: "Hush, Aunt! Let me catch my breath."
Rima: "Me hush? You vanish for a night and return as if nothing happened?"
Fatima: "Karima, where were you?"
Karima: "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
Rima: "Listen to her! Speaking as if she did no wrong!"
Karima: "Wrong? What wrong have I done, Aunt? You saw me go up to spin, but you never saw me come down. And yet here I stand! Are you not curious where I have been? And these apples in my hands—do you not wonder where they came from?"
Fatima (in wonder): "Where indeed?"
Rima (mockingly): "Ah yes, you climbed to the rooftop to bask in the moonlight! And did you find the moon, my girl? Did you?"
Karima: "Aunt, what is it you are trying to say? Why do you look at me so?"
Rima: "Don’t you see? Don’t you all see? Ask her! Ask her where she was!"
Karima (whispering): "I was with… Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim!" (seeking refuge in God's name, avoiding mention of the unseen beings)
Rima (echoing in disbelief): "Did you hear her?!"
Halima: "But truly, where were you?"
Karima (firmly): "I told you. I was with… Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim."
Tonight, we will know not only why Fatima did not bring the oil or the remaining money to her evil stepmom but also the future fate of the three girls, but first, a little chitchat.
For decades, many Egyptians and Arabs thought that Taher Abu Fasha chose the names of Fatima, Halima and Karima because of the rhythm. Thus it was a generational surprise when we found out that there could be a real inspiration behind the names of Fatima, Halima and Karima, and she was indeed a royalty, somehow a princess.
Yes, a princess. Princess Karima Halima Fatima of Egyptian Mohamed Ali Royal Family. holds probably the longest woman’s first name in the history of modern Egypt.
Noblewoman Karima Halima Fatima Mohamed Abdel Halim was born on March 15, 1898. She was the daughter of Prince Mohamed Abbas Halim, the son of Mohamed Abdel Halim Pasha, and the grandson of Mohamed Ali Pasha. On her mother's side, she was the granddaughter of Khedive Tawfiq, as her mother was Princess Fakhr Al-Nisa Khadija, the daughter of Khedive Tawfiq.
Karima had five sisters: Wojdan, Amina, Tawfiqa, Naematallah, and Zeinab.
Her first marriage was to Osman Fuad Oğlu (1873–1922), who served as the commander of Ottoman forces in Libya during World War I. The couple did not have any children.
Real noblewoman Karima Halima Fatima Helmy wearing her Cartier tiara
She later married Prince Youssef Kamal on January 11, 1937, but their marriage was short-lived. They divorced on October 29 of the same year.
Karima passed away on March 28, 1971.
According to Egypt’s Royal Story Facebook page “Best source of Modern Egyptian Royal History FB page” in 1935, her financial allowance was recorded at LE 600. She was also known for owning a remarkable Cartier tiara, crafted around 1930. The versatile piece could be worn as a necklace, bracelet, or a set of brooches.
Designed in an elaborate lotus motif, the tiara was made of platinum and adorned with small diamonds and round brilliant-cut diamonds, totaling approximately 52.50 carats, with a length of about 420 mm.
In 1980, the tiara was sold by an unknown owner at Christie’s for $75,000. In November 2010, an Italian noble family acquired it from Sotheby’s for $185,650. In 2015, it was resold at Sotheby’s for $287,277. Its current owner remains unknown.
Despite the lack of concrete proof that Karima Halima Fatima of the Mohamed Ali Royal Family inspired the tale of the three sisters, many, including myself, believe that folklorist Taher Abu Fasha may have drawn inspiration for their names from this noblewoman.
Now we will leave the real Karima Halima Fatima, May Allah bless her soul and go to the fictional Fatima, Halima and Karima’s world.
So without further delay, here is the 685th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 13th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
We know a chest was found in the house of Fatima, Halima and Karima last night, we will know tonight if the Dervish, Abu Farag, who spoke about a treasure in their house, meant that box or not
But first, there is the little chitchat before the episode.
You will hear tonight in Arabic this famous Egyptian Proverb “The house is our father’s house, and strangers are driving us out”.
It has a very interesting tale despite being straightforward. First of all, it is not a pure Egyptian exclusive proverb. It is shared across the Arab world but in different versions. This proverb is used to protest when someone is unfairly denied what is rightfully theirs.
Like in Iraq, "The House is Our Father's, Yet Strangers fight Us for It", and it has a background story unlike the Egyptian version.
Once upon a time a merchant’s daughter caught the eye of a prince, who tricked her into a kiss in the dark. When she later realized his deception, she plotted revenge. Disguising herself as a fortune teller, she was called to treat the prince’s mysterious illness. During the treatment, she secretly humiliated him, leaving him bewildered.
The prince later married her but, still bitter over her trick, refused to treat her well. He gave her little food, but she secretly used a tunnel her father had built between their homes to visit her family and eat well.
During a hunting trip, she disguised herself as a man and set up camp opposite the prince’s. He challenged her to a game of chess, wagering a servant as the prize. Losing on purpose, she sent herself to his tent, now in her true form, and spent the night with him, keeping his token as proof. She later bore him a son.
Years later, she repeated the same trick, bearing him a daughter. Both children were raised in her father’s house.
When the prince took a second wife, she sent their children to the palace, instructing them to break things and shout, "The house is our father’s, yet strangers fight us for it!" The commotion drew the prince’s attention, and when he recognized the tokens and the children calling their mother, he realized the truth.
Overcome with emotion, he abandoned his second wife and chose to remain with his first wife and their children.
This is a very short version, but the long version, I can tell you that the merchant’s daughter had a hobby to humiliate the prince, despite she loved him.
Now we will leave this tale and go back to our main tale, the tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima.
So without further delay, here is the 684th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 12th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
Reema successfully executed the first part of her devilish plan by poisoning Ka’b El-Ghazal to seize his house. Tonight, we will find out what she intends to do to eliminate his daughters—Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
But first a little chitchat
You will hear and see in tonight’s episode in Arabic this Egyptian popular proverb "يقتل القتيل ويمشي في جنازته" (literally: He kills the victim and then walks in his funeral). This proverb is a widely used expression describing someone who commits a wrongdoing but then pretends to be innocent or even mourns the consequences of their actions. It refers to hypocrisy, deceit, and false sympathy, especially when someone tries to distance themselves from a crime or betrayal they were responsible for.
It is unclear if there is a certain backstory or historical incident related to it, but history is full of incidents that manifested this proverb, whether in the East or West.
There is also this Egyptian term “Ox in a waterwheel” which you will hear tonight. In Egypt, the phrase "الثور في الساقية" (the ox in the waterwheel) is a well-known metaphor used to describe someone who works tirelessly and endlessly without rest or reward.
This imagery comes from the traditional ساقية (sāqiya), a waterwheel system that was widely used in Egyptian agriculture since the Ptolemaic era.
You will also hear this word in Arabic “Sahtout”, it is not a fictional currency created by Taher Abu Fasha. The Sahtout (السحتوت) or Suttout was an old Egyptian currency with a very small value used particularly during the Ottoman and early modern periods in Egypt.
It was equal to a quarter of a millieme, meaning that one Egyptian pound was worth 4,000 Sahtouts. The coin had the phrase "من ربع عشر القرش" (one-quarter of a tenth of a qirsh) inscribed on it. The name "Sahtout" originated from Syria and Palestine, where it was also used historically.
The term suttout is sometimes still used colloquially in Egypt to refer to insignificant amounts of money.
Now enough of our trivia chitchat
So without further delay, here is the 683rd episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the eleventh night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.
