storylines syrian tales muna imady

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August !"#$ % volume V issue &

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Joseph Green

Tet*+s

TalesStorytelling in

Syria

Storytelling in Syria has long

been well established in public

and private settings( Although

rarer nowadays than formerly,

the hakawati, or public

storyteller, is still a generally

recognised )gure in Syria, as he

is across the Arab world(

Storytelling in domestic and

family settings was more open

to women( So with hindsight,

Syrian%American writer and

teacher Muna Imady was

probably always meant to be a

storyteller( -My mother says I

was a storyteller ever since I

could talk % I was called the

.radio+ in our house % the radio

no one could switch o/!0

It helped that she grew up in a

storytelling family % which

meant, as one might expect,

that she grew up with a

storytelling grandmother(

Family storytelling was

augmented by reading( -I was

born in Damascus to an

American mother and a Syrian

father which exposed me to

two cultures at a very young

age and enriched my life(

Listening to my tet*.s

1grandmother+s2 stories, and

being read to by my mother,

made me fall in love with

stories( One of my fondest

memories as a child is sitting on

storylines volume V issue &

3 !4

tet*.s bed in her little red

bedroom and listening to her

telling me a story( As she told

her story, her wrinkled face,

warm smile, and twinkling blue

eyes not only illuminated the

room but my soul as well!

Those special evenings were the

seeds of my love of stories % to

this day, I can close my eyes and

see tet* sitting on her bed in

her white nightgown, matching

her white wavy hair, telling one

of her stories in her so5, but

animated voice( She was more

than a good storyteller % she

was good at living % she would

si5 away bad memories and

concentrate on the good things

in life!

-Later on, once I was old

enough to hold a pencil I put

my thoughts in drawings and

words( So my interest in

folktales started when I was a

young child and I always

dreamed of writing a book of all

the folktales I heard and

remembered(0

The dream took a back seat as

Muna established a career as an

English%language teacher and

educational writer( She was also

publishing children+s stories in

Arabic before her interest in

folktales resurfaced in the

course of her teaching( -I wrote

many English text books and

short stories for my reading

course that were published in

Syria; also many Arabic stories

for children that were published

in Arabic magazines ((( I

designed a beginners+ English

reading course for children,

using my own written text

books and stories for teaching

English as a second language( In

an attempt to bring folktales %

which had meant so much to

me as a child % into my students+

lives, I encouraged them to

collect a folktale from their

province and share them with

their fellow students in English

conversation classes % and in

time, my students grew fond of

folktales and became proud of

their rich Syrian heritage!0

This research fed directly into

Syrian Folktales, Muna+s )rst

English%language story

collection( Reviewed elsewhere

in this edition of Storylines, it is

a tantalisingly brief but

relatively rare glimpse for

general English%language

readers into a rich and

fascinating oral tradition which

is still evidently clinging on in

Syrian family circles in a rapidly

changing world( It concentrates

on the domestic rather than the


!6

public tradition and

methodically covers all fourteen

provinces of Syria; it makes a

point of the domestic context

of its subject matter by

including recipes with the

stories(

-My students helped me a lot in

searching for folktales from

their region and sharing them

with me % unfortunately, they

o5en had to go back to the

oldest woman in the family to

get a folktale( Everywhere I

went, and every place I

travelled to % on buses, on

boats, in the street % I would

interview people from all walks

of life and carefully collect their

folktales % and special dishes(0

The book+s closeness to oral

tradition is key to its interest(

One story, -The Three Spinners,0

comes from Muna+s own

grandmother, and The

Woodcutter and the Lion also

derives from the author+s own

extended family( Her book does

not exhaust her research: Muna

has three years+ worth of notes

for future publications of tales

from her own grandmother and

other Syrian storytellers,

including the country+s

Armenian, Circassian, Uzbek,

Turkmen and Albanian minority

communities( Much to look

forward to(

Joseph Green is a folklorist and

storyteller(


3 !7

The hakawati in full flow. Note the book and sword, and framed pictures of the epic lovers Antar and Abla. (Muna Imady)

In Search of a Hakawati

Muna Imady

The old city of Damascus never

fails to enchant me with its

sweet scent of jasmine and its

ancient streets and buildings(

As I pass by the Umayyad

Mosque, the Muzzein+s call

dri5s across the air, calling for

the noon prayer( People crowd

at the mosque door, and I

manage to slip through them

and into the twisting alleyways

towards the al%Nofara, one of

the oldest caf*s in Damascus( I

am on a mission % to investigate

whether storytellers still exist(

The caf* is empty now of the

lively tourist trade that once

)lled the place with laughter(

Now only older men and

women sit and smoke nargileh

1water%pipes2 or sip tea(

It is lunchtime, and the only

people in the caf* are the

waiters who are not able to

answer the questions I ask( So I

move around the empty chairs,

and remember the last time I

visited the place with my late

aunt( I was not able to stay for a

long time because my little son

was getting into everything and

imitating the hakawati(

That was the )rst and last time I

saw the famous hakawati

Rashid Hallak( He was sitting on

a high chair, dressed in his

traditional striped Damascene

shirt, baggy pants, and red fez,

and holding an old book,

eloquently describing the

scenes of the tale of the pre%

Islamic hero Antar, son of the

black slave woman( Antar was

famed as a poet and a

courageous )ghter, who fought

for his beloved, beautiful

princess Abla(

Sadly, I learn that Rashid Hallak

had died last year( His place was

taken by another storyteller,

Ahmad Laham, in !"#!(

On my way out of the caf*, I

suddenly hear someone call me(

Looking around, I see a middle%

aged woman sitting with an

elderly man and another

woman(

-Muna,0 she says, -you still look

the same as you did in your

teens!0

I bite my lower lip and feel too

ashamed to ask her for her

name( I assume she is an old

school friend(

-I heard you asking for

information about the

hakawati,0 she says cheerfully(

-My father lived in this

neighbourhood, and he used to


8"

come with his father to this

caf* to hear the storyteller( If

you want he can share his

memories with you(0

My face brightens and I just

can+t believe my good luck(

-That would be so kind of you,0

I say, addressing her father as I

pull up a chair and sit at their

table(

Her father smiles and

introduces himself, then begins:

-Two centuries ago, the

hakawatis were found in every

Syrian co/ee shop( Only men

went to hear stories a5er

evening prayers; women might

gather around an elderly wise

woman at home and listen to a

story as well( Then when

television invaded the co/ee

shops in the #79"s, the

hakawatis began to disappear(

-The hakawati sat on a high

place surrounded with men

drinking co/ee and tea and told

a hikaya, a story: romances of

the chivalrous Antar, the heroic

warrior%poet and nomad of pre%

Islamic times, or the epic

adventures of Baybars, a

Mamluk Sultan who ruled

Egypt and Syria in the

thirteenth century; or the )erce

battles and adventures of the

Banu Hilal, an ancient tribe of

North Arabia( Syrians adored

the story of Antar because he

represented the great Arab

hero, the Arabic ideal(0

The father takes a sip of his

dark tea and continues:

-The hakawati began his story

with his customary phrase: .My

dear gentlemen, pray for our

generous Prophet(+ The

audience would respond: .Peace

be upon our Prophet

Mohammad( May he be

embraced with grace and peace(+

Then he would hold his old

worn out book, and start

reading the poetic and stylish

words, raising and lowering his

voice according to the events

taking place in the story and the

heroic act he was describing(

Eventually the caf* echoed with

joyful cheers(

-The hakawati had a great

ability to both narrate and act(

He told his story in an

expressive way, using his sword

and cane to act out the story

and recite beautiful poetry to

charm his audience( He was also

a master of plotting, who knew

how to draw his audience in to

him from the beginning to the

end( Both the hakawati and the

audience were interactive

parties in the events of the

story(0


3 8#

The father pauses and takes a

long pu/ from his nargileh,

then grins as he remembers:

-As the story was told, the

audience in the co/ee shop

were divided into two parties,

each supported a character in

the story and got into verbal

)ghts which sometimes

escalated into a physical )ght %

especially when the story was

about Antar(

-The hakawati always contrived

a way to end his story at an

event where the hero was in

trouble( If the chapter of the

story ended with Antar locked

behind bars, the caf* would

turn upside down and

sometimes the two parties

would break the chairs and

tables( Others might go and

knock the hakawati.s door

demanding that he read the

next chapter and free Antar(

People who supported Antar

would decorate the

neighborhood when the

hakawati reached the part of

the story where Antar got

married(0

Suddenly the ground shakes

violently( I look around and

wonder whether the caf*

customers of the past have

come back to life and are taking

revenge for their hero and

destroying the place …

My friend laughs nervously and

says, -And the music continues

to play (((0

Again, I hear the siren of an

ambulance from a distance and

I return back to reality …

-I guess I must leave,0 I say as I

thank my friend and her

parents(

My friend gives me a warm

goodbye and I leave, feeling

guilty, still wondering about her

name(


8!

The al Nofara Café, Damascus. (Muna Imady)

Muna Imady

The

Woodcutter

and the

LionA folktale from

Deir%al%Zor

Day a5er day, the sun shone

triumphantly in the sky,

cancelling any hope for rain(

With no rain, the trees, crops

and plants of the land withered

and died( People were desperate

and grew poorer and poorer(

Even Deir%al%Zor, where the

Euphrates river runs through its

land, forming fertile islands

called huweja, was hit by the

heavy drought(

In a small mud brick house, at

the foot of a hill, lived a

woodcutter and his nine

children( Every day the

woodcutter went out looking

for trees to cut, with no luck( At

sunset, his children would wait

hopefully for his return(

Unfortunately he had nothing

to o/er them(

-You must )nd a way to earn

your living,0 said his wife(

-But this has been my job all

my life( I+m not cut out to do

anything else!0 argued the

woodcutter(

Now it happened that there

was a huweja further o/ which

was crowded with trees and had

plenty of grass and plants, but

no%one dared to approach it( A


88

great lion lived in it and forbade

anyone to come near it(

When things got really bad, the

woodcutter decided to go to

the lion+s island(

-I have no solution but to try

and go to the lion+s huweja,0 he

said to his wife(

-It+s so dangerous % please don+t

go!0 begged his wife(

-I will die whether I stay here or

go to the lion+s huweja( Let me

try my luck!0

The next morning, the

woodcutter rowed his old boat

towards the lion+s island( When

he reached the huweja, he was

so taken by the fantastic trees

that covered the area that he

forgot all about the lion(

Suddenly, a great lion leaped in

front of him, snarling and

growling(

-How dare you come to my

island! Don+t you know what

happens to whomever comes to

my island?0 roared the lion(

The woodcutter fell down to his

knees and started to cry:

-Please, your majesty the lion!

I+m so poor that my nine

children haven+t had anything

to eat for days( I beg for your

mercy, to pity me, and let me

cut just a little wood to sell at

the market and buy my starving

children something to eat! I+m

sure you have such a big heart!0

The lion felt sorry for the poor

woodcutter( -Okay,0 roared the

lion, -you may come here once

a week and cut down all the

trees you want!0

-Oh, thank you!0 said the

woodcutter, as the tears rolled

down his face( Then he got up

to his feet and picked up his

axe, and cut some wood, and

carried it to his old boat, and

rowed it back to town to sell it(

His wife and children couldn+t

believe their eyes when they

saw him return with plenty of

food( That night, the

woodcutter, his wife and nine

children ate and drank like they

never had in their lives(

A5er that day, the woodcutter

returned once a week and

chopped as much wood as he

could carry in his old boat, and

went to town to sell it( The

price of wood went up, since

no%one but the woodcutter

could go to the lion+s island(


8&

Little by little, the woodcutter

became richer, and his children

turned plump, and their faces

became rosy and round(

Then the day came when the

woodcutter became a very

wealthy man, whose riches

were countless( His home was

no longer a small mud brick

house, but a palace, much like

the palaces that kings and

queens live in( He no longer

went to chop wood, but sent

his men to carry the wood in

large boats(

One day, the woodcutter set up

a big party, and invited all his

friends except for the lion(

From a distance, the lion heard

the sound of music and

laughter( He smelt the smell of

meat being roasted(

-My friend the woodcutter is

having a great invitation today(

I must honour him and allow

him to be my host!0 roared the

lion, with great pride(

When the lion arrived at the

woodcutter+s palace, everyone

froze in their place in fear of

him( The lion quietly stepped in

and sat down next to his friend

the woodcutter, and said: -A

hundred thousand hellos to my

dear friend! I have come to

honour you by my presence(

May Allah grant you wealth and

health!0

As the lion uttered these words,

he opened up his mouth wide

and snapped his sharp yellow

teeth( A bad smell came out of

his mouth and )lled the air(

This was the closest the

woodcutter had ever been to

the lion(

-Oh, you really stink!0 said the

woodcutter( -If I were you I

wouldn+t sit too close to my

friends for fear that I might lose

them!0

The lion couldn+t believe his

ears( How could his friend utter

these harsh words a5er all he

had done for him? Without a

word, the lion le5 the party and

went o/ towards his huweja(

The next day, when the

woodcutter+s men arrived at the

lion+s huweja, the lion roared at

them )ercely and warned them

not to come back again(

The woodcutter was surprised

to hear what the lion did to his

men, and went to talk to the

lion(


8$

-What has come to your mind,

to throw my men o/ your

huweja?0

-I made a big mistake

considering you my friend( I

treated you with kindness, but

you returned my kindness with

your ungratefulness!0 said the

lion(

The woodcutter tried to explain

himself, but the lion interrupted

him and called out: -Raise your

axe and kill me! I don+t deserve

to live a5er I lost my dignity!0

The ungrateful woodcutter

raised his axe and thought to

himself: -The best thing I could

do is to strike him on his head

and get rid of him for once and

for all!0

As he viciously approached the

lion, the lion moved, and the

axe struck him on his stomach(

The lion roared with pain, and

then ran away behind the

bushes(

No%one saw the lion a5er that

day, and everyone believed he

was dead( The woodcutter

considered himself the owner of

the huweja( He cut down as

many trees as he wanted, at any

time(

One day, as the woodcutter was

walking around the huweja, he

heard a faint growl( To his

surprise, the lion suddenly

leaped to his hind legs and

started to roar: -This is my

huweja! How dare you come

here and chop my trees without

my permission!0

-But % but % -

The woodcutter unsuccessfully

tried to put his thoughts into

words(

-This is the last talk we have

together!0 said the lion( -I don+t

want to see you here again % or

I+ll eat you!0

-W%what do you mean?0

stammered the woodcutter(

-Aren+t we friends?0

-No!0 roared the lion( -Wounds

heal in time, but hurtful words

cause scars that never heal!0

Muna Imady is a Syrian%American

English language teacher and

educational writer, based in

Damascus( The tale of The

Woodcutter and the Lion :pp( 7" %

7&; is taken from Syrian Folktales

:MSI Press, !"##;, reviewed

elsewhere in this issue of Storylines(


89

-Questings,0 a checklist of

instructions and questions

designed to make the aspiring

writer think and reassess how

they approach their cra5( These

are useful tools one could use

and one wonders why more was

not made of the ideas shown

here in the body of the text(

Part three, -The Dragon+s Hoard

< Other Essays0 re=ects on the

work of a number of writers,

not just of fantasy but of poetry

and modern )ction( While

interesting to the academic or

serious student of the art of

writing this section adds little

to the overall impact of the

book(

This is not really a book for the

traditional oral storyteller( It is a

serious attempt to analyse and

explain what lies behind the art

of good fantasy writing( As

such, it may be of interest to

students of fantasy writing, but

this avid reader of fantasy

)ction )nds it wanting in many

areas(

Carl Merry

REVIEW

Muna Imady

Syrian Folktales

MSI Press, !"##

ISBN 746#788&$$"77

PB 3 3 '6($7

Kindle 3 '!(!"

I don+t know very much at all

about storytelling in the Arab

word, and I didn+t know

anything at all about

storytelling in Syria( In the

#76"s Andrea Rugh+s translated

Samir Tahhan+s extraordinary

two%volume Folktales of Syria(

But there seems to be little else

in English( It was largely the

curiosity of ignorance that

inspired me to order the present

slender volume, containing

tales, riddles, sayings and

recipes from each of the

country+s fourteen provinces(

The author is a Syrian%American

English language teacher and

writer, and although she has

published stories in Arabic for

children this is her )rst

collection of English%language

stories, and a )rst venture in

publishing tales from oral

tradition(


86

The author+s grandmother

:-tet*0; was a storyteller in the

domestic and family tradition,

and the author+s work with her

own students has given her

access through them to the

storytelling traditions of other

families across the whole

country( The result is a

tantalising snapshot of a

storytelling culture which :as so

o5en; seems to be in retreat, or

at least subject to change % but

still vibrant(

Some of the stories :-The Three

Spinners0; have the air of

nursery tales for small children;

others will remind English

readers of Tom Thumb :-Nuss%

Insais0;, Cinderella or Mother

Holle :-The Wicked

Stepmother0;, or other wonder%

tales( There are animal%fables

:the eponymous Sly Fox invites

some gullible hens to join him

on an ostensible pilgrimage to

Mecca % with predictably

carnivorous results; and some

wry humour at the expense of

unhappily married husbands

:-Tunnay and Runnay0; and

garrulous wives :-The Sky Is

Raining Meat0;( Across several

tales the shadow falls of the

terrible gouleh, the witch>

demon or -fabulous female

monster from the Djinn world(0

The recipes range from

instructions for frying kibbeh,

the ground%beef patties which

form a mainstay of Syrian

cuisine % to instructions for

roasting a camel whole, on

embers buried in hot desert

sand(

The English is readable but not

idiomatic and the whole book

would have bene)tted from a

good edit and proof%read( More

substantively, I would have

liked to know more about the

individual tellers of these

stories % we learn that they

were women, and that they

learned the stories from

mothers and female relatives,

but it would be good to have

known a little more about the

artists, the better to appreciate

the art(

On balance, however, the

intrinsic interest and

authenticity of the subject

matter wins out( Muna Imady

-feels strongly that a record

should be made of these oral

traditions before they are

completely forgotten(0

I agree( Her book is not a dry or

detached scholarly monograph %

still less a travesty%rewrite by a


3 87

condescendingly literary

stranger( It is

something better than these %

an engaged voice from within

the traditional community( I

shall be making a point of

clicking on more random

Facebook links if they open up

prospects such as these(

Simon Heywood


&"

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