That is his name. In truth, his blessing is not great. All his assets are: two tents. One is made of reeds, for the summer. The other is woven wool, for the winter. He also has two cows and a camel. His livelihood is… manure. From the day our moshava was built, he has pitched his tent on the edge of one of the desolate hills on our perimeter, and gathered the cow dung of the field and sold it to the vine-growers. The dung is gathered by the members of his household, while he is overseer of the labor and of the sales to the moshava. The members of his household are not few. He has two wives, and both have children. The elder has five sons, and the younger, three. The elder sees to the housework: baking, cooking, laundering, and tends the two cows, whose milk too, is sold to the moshava. And the younger, and all eight children, from the oldest to the youngest, are employed seven days a week gathering the cow dung. Mabruk is content with his lot. His portion is a pleasant one.
And how did his name come to be called Mabruk? This was the wish of his master, his owner, who set him free from bondage. Mabruk was a negro, a slave, a son with no name. He had been sold to his master in childhood and when he set him free, he named him Mabruk and gave him one of his maidservants to wife, a negress like himself. And thus he started life. His second wife was also a negress. And all his children were as black as their parents. How old Mabruk was – I do not know. It was difficult to put a number on his years. He might have been old and he might have been young.
The two of us, Mabruk and myself, were friends. Our friendship began from… a basket of manure. The measure he used to measure out his manure, was not his own. Mabruk did not spend his few coins on things that were not strictly necessary. And when he sold his manure to a farmer, the two of them would choose a basket from among the farmer’s grape baskets. First, they would decide on a medium basket. But from one day to the next, the basket would grow larger until gradually it came to be the largest basket. This bothered Mabruk very much. But he kept silent. He knew there was no point disputing those more powerful than himself. He who owned the basket – he had the deciding power.
One day, I made Mabruk’s acquaintance, and I also bought manure from him. And I never changed my basket on him through to the last day. Each day, Mabruk would examine the basket with his eyes, and when he was convinced that it had not been replaced, his face shone all the brighter. His eyes looked upon me with open fondness, and his two white rows of teeth showed themselves to me from within an easy smile of satisfaction that graced his lips. Finally, I gave him my basket as a permanent gift, to measure his manure for all his customers. His happiness knew no bound. In his happiness, he brought me a gift of a full load of camel dung. And the value of the dung was about equal to the value of the new basket…
And on this basket of dung was our friendship founded.
But it was not to Mabruk’s fortune or benefit that God had sent us our friendship.
_____
One day in the rainy season, a cloudy day, I was returning from my vineyard, riding my small donkey. At a distance not too great from the moshava, by the corner of one of the vineyards, by a living hedge of cactus pear, my donkey was suddenly startled and lurched aside. And on the other side of the cactus pear too, someone was shocked and startled. “Who is it,” I thought to myself, “a fox or a thief in waiting?” I felt for the pistol on my hip, I jumped off my donkey, and approached the cactus. Before me stood a young Arab girl, shaking all over like a trembling leaf, and two black eyes, surprised and alarmed, were fixed on me. This time, it was I who lurched backwards.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Dead silence. And the two black eyes, surprised and alarmed, lingered on me.
“Go home. Soon the day will become dark.”
Dead silence.
From the far south-west, lightning flashed. Thunder rolled in the heavens. A cold wind blew. I looked at the girl. She was barefoot. A white headscarf covered her head. A thin cloth gown clung to her flesh and fell over her blue pants. The whole of her supple young body was prominent though her gown, and she shivered all over from cold.
“Go home. It will rain soon and you will get all wet.”
Dead silence. The girl was shivering all over, and the two surprised and alarmed black eyes were still upon me.
The lightning flashed again. And again the thunder filled the air with dread.
“I will go to the moshava and send the shepherd to take her home,” I thought to myself. I mounted my donkey again and went on my way.
When I came to the moshava, thick and heavy drops of rain began to pour slowly. The thought of the shepherd and the Arab girl strangely disappeared from my brain and I hurried to my room. Only an hour later, after I had had my meal, did I remember the Arab girl I had found in the vineyard and my heart went out to her.
Outside the darkness had increased and engulfed the whole universe. A fierce rain pounded the earth.
“What have I done? Why didn’t I send the shepherd to her? What will become of her?”
I didn’t think many more thoughts. I put on my rain boots, placed a box of matches and a small lantern in my pocket, and left my room. The wind had stopped. The rain too had ceased for a while. Through the clouds that floated and passed through the sky at great speed, a few stars twinkled.
Again I forgot my thought of the shepherd and with quick steps I walked to the place where I had found the Arab girl.
_____
Dead silence prevailed. A heavy darkness hung over the vineyards. Neither sound of movement, nor any that regarded.
“She has left,” I thought; and I felt alleviated. And yet my heart was for some reason troubled. I took the lantern from my pocket, lit a flame in it, and looked around me and was alarmed. The girl was standing in the same place as before, as if bound there. The entirety of her gown had become stuck to her trembling body, and the two surprised and scared black eyes were upon me once again.
“Why did you not go back to your home?”
She remained silent and her eyes lingered on me.
“Listen, the rain will not cease all night, you will catch cold…”
She continued to be silent and did not lower her frightened gaze from me.
“Who are you? Whose daughter? Where are you from?”
“From Zar’aniya.”
A whisper of a voice. The voice of fear. The village – our neighbors.
“Where are you going?”
“I do not know. It is night.”
“Why did you leave your home, at eventide?”
“I was running away.”
Something struck at my heart.
“Why?”
“I am an orphan. I have run away from my redeemer.”
Then I remembered something the village boys had told me.
“Is the mukhtar your redeemer?”
“He is my redeemer…”
That was it! The village mukhtar, an elderly man, took in to his household several years ago a forsaken orphan, the daughter of his brother, whose parents had both died. When the girl grew and became beautiful, he desired her and sought to take her to wife in addition to his other wives. And the girl did not abide. She had cast her eyes on the young hareth, and he too loved her. When the mukhtar found out, he was driven to anger. He spun a libel concerning the hareth and brought him to trial, and the hareth was even sentenced to a three-month incarceration. The mukhtar hoped that during his rival’s absence, the girl would accede to him. But she persisted in her rebelliousness. And her redeemer tormented her and put her to all manner of hard labor. And when she despaired of her life, she fled from him.
I stood there, lost for words. What would I do with her? I couldn’t after all leave her here on such a dark and rainy night. And to the village, to her redeemer, she would not go.
“What will you do now?”
She looked at me helplessly.
“Listen, come with me. I will bring you to the home of the shepherd. You will stay the night at his house.”
She drew back in fear.
“No. He will deliver me to him… They will kill me…”
The shepherd was kin to her redeemer’s family.
“What is to be done?”
A new thought flashed in my brain.
“Listen, come with me to my room. Stay the night. Tomorrow we will figure out what to do.”
She looked ill again, and drew back. I understood that I was putting her to a difficult trial. But there was no choice. She would die here in the cold and rain.
“Listen, don’t be afraid. I will close the room and go off to the home of an acquaintance. No one will know of your coming or going.”
“I will not go.”
And again lightning flashed in the skies. And again thunder rolled in the heavens. And again the southwest wind blew, bringing in its wings tidings of pouring rain and maybe even hail. The cold touched to my very flesh. And she was almost naked and barefoot. From afar, from among the vineyards, the howling of hungry foxes was heard.
“And what if foxes come? Or a hyena?”
She startled, and cast her eyes downwards. I knew the fear of the hyena would change her mind.
“Will you come?”
“No…”
“Very well. As you like. I am going. I will tell the shepherd…”
“No. No!”
She tore herself from her spot and followed me.
_____
Creeping like thieves, we came to the moshava. We passed behind the cowsheds, so the night watchmen would not encounter us. We came to my room. With a trembling hand I closed the door behind us and I lit the lamp. She stood against the door shaking from cold and from fear, all of her wet, from head to toe, and around her feet there formed a pool of water that had run off of her. Her face was pale and her black eyes shone in the light of the lamp and looked at me again with fear and wonder.
“What should I do with her?”
I hurried and removed from my chest a warm wool gown, warm underwear, and woolen socks. I put all this on my bed. I motioned to her and exited the room. I closed the door from the outside.
“Will she change her clothes? Will she consent? What will she eat? She must be hungry as a dog…”
I went to my landlady, whose table I ate at these several years, and asked her to give me bread, boiled eggs, and warm milk.
“Why do you need all this at night?”
“A guest has come.”
“On a night like this?!” My landlady said to me in astonishment and gave me all the good I asked her for. I returned to my room. “Has she changed her clothes?” Very slowly, I opened the door of my room.
She was sitting on my bed. She was wearing my warm gown and pants. The socks were on her feet and she was looking at them with much enjoyment. On her head, in place of her wet headscarf, was my towel…
She noticed me, startled, and rose from her place.
I couldn’t hold back, and laughed softly to myself. A light laugh, a good laugh, crossed her face too. And suddenly she blushed fully and lowered her gaze. Her face shone with beauty and satisfaction.
“You must be hungry. Eat…” I said and put all the good in my hand on the table and she did not refuse and ate with a great appetite. While she ate, she looked at me, and on her beautiful face was an expression of pleasure. When she had finished eating, her face suddenly became sad. She looked at me in obvious embarrassment and said:
“Where will I go?”
“You will stay here. I will go.”
She lowered her eyes.
I took my leave, left the room, and closed the door behind me.
“Where will I go to sleep?”
I didn’t go anywhere. How could I explain why I had left my room?
I stood all night in the shadow of the porch near my room. I didn’t budge from my spot. Some thing whose nature I didn’t know fixed me to the house and would not let me leave it. And the door of my room, whose key was in my pocket, I didn’t approach even once, as if I was afraid to go near it.
In the morning, when I carefully opened the door to my room, I found her sitting on my bed in the place she had sat the day before when I had left her. Her head leaned against the wall, and she slept in a deep sleep. She must have been afraid all night to lie down… poor thing.
I left her again and went out. Outside, a wind was blowing. The sky was covered with clouds. A thin rain dripped incessantly. I went to eat and after my meal I passed by the street that turned towards the village. Several of the young men of the village met me, and I called to one of them.
“What’s new in the village?”
“Last night the orphan ran away from the mukhtar’s house…” the lad informed me gaily. The young people disliked the mukhtar.
“How? Where to?”
“She must have gone to the bek’s house.”
“Who is the bek?”
“Our neighbor. He dwells in his orchard. His home is a refuge for discontents. A girl whose parents intend to marry her to one whom she hates, runs to the house of the bek to save herself…”
“And what does the bek do?”
“He keeps the girl in his house until her parents consent to give her to whom her heart desires.”
“And if the girl’s parents lodge a complaint with the authorities?”
“Who would dispute with the bek? His hand is powerful…”
“Would the mukhtar see fit to give the orphan to her beloved? Isn’t he, after all, in prison?”
“It doesn’t matter. If the mukhtar can’t remove the orphan from the bek’s house against her will – she’ll remain there until her beloved returns from prison… But I doubt it will come that…”
“Why? What else?”
“The orphan is very beautiful… And the bek… Beautiful women capture his heart… He will not bring her out of his house again, but will add her to his concubines…”
Something struck at my heart. I bid the young man farewell and went home. I understood what had happened. The girl had run away to the bek’s house but could not find the way. She had gotten lost in our vineyards.
“Tonight you will send the girl to the bek’s,” a voice said to my heart. This thought was not to my liking.
“And if the bek should desire her?”
Well, what do I care? Yet still my heart vexed me.
“You will bring down disaster upon yourself and the entire moshava, if it should become known that she is in your room… And she too will come to an evil end…”
And surely, if they seek her at the bek’s house and do not find her, who knows if they might pick up her trail to my room? And where will I turn my face then? The mukhtar will incite the entire village against the moshava. And she will be murdered…”
I returned to my room flustered and alarmed.
_____
She stood in the middle of the room dressed as she had been yesterday in my gown and pants. Her face was full of fear and worry. When she saw me, her face lit up with joy. And I held back with all my might to keep from laughing.
“I was afraid…”
“Of what?”
“That you had sent word to my redeemer…”
“Do not be afraid. I will not do such a thing. Tell me, do you want to escape to the bek’s house?”
A look of worry crossed her face.
“I wanted to, but I was afraid…”
“Of what?”
“Of the bek.”
I was pleased with her answer. But what would I do with her?
“And what do you think to do?”
“I do not know…”
A black shadow covered her face.
“I would let you stay in my room, but I fear both for myself and for you…”
She remained silent. And her silence seemed to me agreement to remain in my room.
I shuddered, and suddenly a good thought flashed in my brain: I will hide her in Mabruk’s tent.
He would watch over her until things cooled down.
“I have a suggestion.”
“What?” Her face rejoiced.
I told her the nature of my thought.
She listened to my words and a cloud of sadness passed over her face.
“Why have you grown sad?”
“I’m afraid…”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I do not know…”
“Do not be afraid. I know him. He is a decent sort. He will keep your secret. I take responsibility for you.”
The girl stood there sad and distressed.
But there was nothing else to be done, and there was no time to lose. I hurried and saddled my donkey and rode to my black friend’s tent. After a few words, he agreed. I also promised him a certain amount of money. We resolved that come nightfall, he would come to my room to take her back with him.
_____
Several days passed. The commotion that arose in the village following the orphan’s disappearance from the house of the mukhtar grew louder from one day to the next. The bek answered the mukhtar, who had come looking for the girl, that she was not in his house. At first, the mukhtar refused to believe him and threatened him with every kind of threat and also lodged a complaint with the authorities. Finally, everyone came to know that she was not in his house. And the thing became a mystery. They looked for her everywhere, but her trail had vanished. A rumor started that she had been devoured, a hyena had eaten her when she had fled at night from her redeemer’s house.
At first, I was afraid lest my secret become known. But Mabruk comforted me that no harm would come to me, that even if the girl be found in his tent, he would say she had come to him alone. And I knew he would not deceive me.
Mabruk looked after the orphaned girl who took refuge under his roof like the pupil of his eye. And he commanded all the members of his household not to breathe a word about her. He who told would be put to death. And the household knew Mabruk was a man of his word, and they kept the secret. The children loved the white fellahi girl who stayed in their tent, and took pride in her. And only the two wives looked at her grudgingly and with an evil eye.
I would visit Mabruk’s tent frequently, bringing food for the girl and money for looking after her. At first, Mabruk would accept everything willingly from my hand. But later he became angry and aggrieved:
“But she is my guest… Taking refuge beneath my roof…”
And the fellahi girl sat closed in and shut up in the tent of her black protector and did not leave its opening. She was sad and dejected in spirit. Her face grew thinner from one day to the next. But when I came to the tent, she gladdened at my arrival, a spark of joy shone in her eyes, and willingly she accepted everything from my hand. This brought pleasure to me, and grief to Mabruk. And sometimes he could not control himself, and in my presence he would tell the girl that she held the Jew in higher regard than him, a Muslim man. And the girl would lower her eyes. I was sorry in my heart over the fate of the girl captive in the black man’s tent.
_____
The awaited day had arrived. From the village the news reached me that the mukhtar’s hareth had returned from prison. I hurried to Mabruk’s tent, called him outside, told him the news, and hurried him to go to the young man and inform him of his beloved’s hiding place, and to advise him to take her quickly to the qadi and marry her in the sight of God and man, before the mukhtar had time to interfere. And how astounded I was when I saw Mabruk’s face contorting with fury and vexation. He told me absolutely decisively:
“I will not go.”
“But how?” I did not understand his meaning.
“I will not go. In what way am I worse than that prisoner?” And he accentuated the ultimate word contemptuously. I didn’t hold back and laughed out loud. My laugher infuriated him all the more. In his eyes there flashed a spark of hatred and anger. And with open wrath he said:
“Why do you laugh? Am I not also a Muslim?”
This time, the accent was on “Muslim” and I didn’t understand whom it was directed at.
“Mabruk, I did not mean to insult you…” I attempted to console him with soft words, “But she is a young girl, and you are a man of age, you have two wives… and have children to care for… And she pines for another and for his sake she has risked her life…”
“It is not the young man who stands in the way…” The black man spoke again in anger which he did not know how to conceal, “She has forgotten him…”
“So who is it?” I asked, looking at him in surprise.
The black man remained silent a long hard while and did not look at me.
I decided to hurry and put an end to the matter, and to save the girl from the black man, who had cast his eye on her. I entered the tent and called to the girl. She was glad to see me as usual. But her face was very poorly and from her eyes a sorrow of affliction looked out at me. I understood that the black man had been tormenting her for some time past. And I regretted that I had not come to visit her in a long time. I was quick to tell her the news of her beloved’s arrival and I asked her advice on how to arrange their meeting.
A shadow crossed her face. She gave me a pained look and said nothing. And suddenly a tear hung from her eyelid.
_____
That same evening, I sent for the young man to be called to me. I revealed to him where his beloved was and told him all of the details. I withheld nothing, because now I was afraid of Mabruk. His happiness knew no bounds. He grabbed my hand and kissed it and swore to me an oath of eternal loyalty and devotion. Together we took counsel of what we should do, and we decided that the next day he would take the girl, and two acquaintances of his would go with them as witnesses to the nearby town, to the qadi, before the mukhtar found out. Joyful and with a glad heart, the lad returned to his home. But I could not sleep that night and I didn’t know why.
The next day, before I left my room, the young man came to me and he was thoroughly angry and upset.
“What’s the matter?”
“The accursed black man would not let me enter the tent… And he would not bring the girl out to me. He said he will give her to no one…”
And as he spoke he looked at me with open anger. How quickly he had forgotten his oath of loyalty… And I too was angered to death. That black man fully intended to inherit the girl… Damn him!
I ordered my cart to be hitched. We sat in it, myself, the young man, and his two witnesses, and we hastened to Mabruk’s tent.
“Do not go yourself to the black man. He is like a crazy man… Maybe we should inform the authorities?” The young man said to try and stop me. I did not hesitate for a moment, but only felt for the pistol on my hip.
“No matter. Don’t be afraid.”
At the sound of the noise made by the cart, the black man came out of the tent towards us, completely enraged. I had never seen his face like that before. His eyes glowed like hot coals. His teeth gnashed against each other. His hair stood on end. He was all of him like a wild animal. We were cautious. We stood a few paces away from him.
Then I turned to him and said loudly and decisively that the girl cannot stay in his tent, and if he failed to bring her out to us, I would refer the matter to the authorities.
He stood there for a few moments, confused. Apparently he hadn’t considered that I would under no circumstances give in to him. Finally, he furiously tore the flap from the tent opening and called angrily, without looking at anyone: “Come out!… There… Take her!”
_____
Several days later, the new couple returned to the village. That same day, Mabruk took up his tent, and he and his household headed south.
_____
Thirty years have passed since that time. I have forgotten many of the escapades of my youth. The story related here, too, had been completely forgotten. And then last year by chance I passed by that same hill behind our moshava, at whose edge Mabruk had once pitched his tent. And how astonished I was to suddenly see that tent. Precisely the same tent. And precisely in the same place. Something struck at my heart. Suddenly I remembered the fellahi girl, who had sat a whole night on my bed in my room while I stood guard outside. I remembered and I laughed to myself. And I remembered Mabruk, too, and I walked towards the tent. And how much my astonishment grew: before me, on the ground, sat Mabruk! Precisely him, as he was thirty years ago. Nothing about him had changed. Am I really seeing all of this awake and not in a night’s dream? And the black man, when he saw me, got up from his place and walked directly towards me.
“Welcome, Khawaja Musa!”
“Mabruk!” I called out in joy and wonderment.
“No, khawaja, Muhammed, Mabruk’s first-born son. Do you not remember me?”
The riddle is solved…
“When did you arrive here? And how is your father?”
“My father has returned his soul to heaven. One year ago. Allah have mercy on him. And before his death he commanded me to return to this place, for here I would find a profitable livelihood.”
“And what are your doings?”
“We gather the cow dung from the field and sell it to the Jews…”
“And why did you not come to me to sell me your manure? Did your father not tell you of me?”
“He did… And I also saw you among the vineyards and I knew it was you…”
“What did your father tell you of me?”
“My father commanded me before his death: If you come to my dwelling place near to the Jews, you will find there a man, Khawaja Musa is his name. Sell your manure to him, for he is an honest man and will not cheat you. But beware of his friendship as you would of fire. There is no blessing in it, but poison…”
I laughed again. I entreated Muhammed to sell me his manure and not fear my friendship. My first request he granted. But in the yard of my home his foot did not set even once. He would bring the manure to my orchard and there he would receive his pay. He would not come to my house. His father’s commandment was forceful upon him.
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