The Women of the Arabs Part 19

II. Killeh. Like the game of shooting marbles.

III. Owal Howa. The same as leap frog.

IV. Biz Zowaia. Cat in the corner.

V. Taia ya Taia. All the boys stand in a row, and one in front facing them, who calls out Taia ya Taia. They all then run after him and hit him. He then hops on one foot as if lame, and catches one of them, who takes his place.

VI. El Manya. Hig tig.

VII. Bil Kobbeh. A circle of boys stand with their heads bowed. Another circle stand outside, and on a given signal try to mount on the backs of the inner circle of boys. If they succeed they remain standing in this way; if not, the boy who failed must take the inside place.

VIII. Ghummaida. Blind-man's-buff.

IX. Tabeh. Base ball and drop ball.

X. Kurd Murboot or Tied Monkey. A rope is tied to a peg in the ground, and one boy holds it fast. The others tie knots in their handkerchiefs and beat him. If he catches them without letting go his hold on the rope, they take his place.

XI. Shooha or Hawk. Make a swing on the limb of a tree. A boy leans on the swing and runs around among the boys, until he catches one to take his place.

XII. Joora. Shooting marbles into a joora or hole in the ground.

XIII. Khubby Mukhzinak. "Pebble pebble." One boy goes around and hides a pebble in the hand of one of the circle and asks "pebble, pebble, who's got the pebble." This is like "b.u.t.ton, b.u.t.ton."

Then there are other games like chequers and "Morris," chess, and games which are used in gambling, which you will not care to hear about.

Sometimes when playing, they sing a song which I have translated:

I found a black crow, With a cake in his maw, I asked him to feed me, He cried caw, caw.

A chicken I found With a loaf of bread-- I asked him to feed me.

He cried, enough said.

And an eagle black With a beam on his back Said from Egypt I come And he cried clack, clack.

So you see the Arab boys are as fond of plays and songs as American boys. They have scores of songs about gazelles, and pearls, and Sultans, and Bedawin, and Ghouls, and the "Ghuz," and the Evil Eye, and Arab mares and Pashas.

A few days ago a Druze, named Sheikh Ali, called upon me and recited to me a strange song, which reminded me of the story of "Who killed c.o.c.k Robin," and "The House that Jack built." In some of the Arab villages where fleas abound, the people go at times to the tennur or oven, (which is like a great earthen jar sunken in the ground,) to shake off the fleas into the fire. The story which I have translated goes thus: A brilliant bug and a n.o.ble flea once went to the oven to shake off the ign.o.ble fleas from their garments into the fire. But alas, alas, the n.o.ble flea lost his footing, fell into the fire and was consumed. Then the brilliant bug began to weep and mourn, saying,

Alas! Ah me!

The n.o.ble Flea!

While he was thus weeping, And his sad watch keeping, A glossy raven overhead, Flew swiftly down and gently said, Oh my friend, oh brilliant bug, Why are you weeping on the rug?

The bug replied, O glossy raven, With your head all shorn and shaven, I am now weeping, And sad watch keeping, Over, Ah me!

The n.o.ble Flea.

The raven he, Wept over the flea, And flew to a green palm tree-- And in grief, _dropped a feather_, Like snow in winter weather.

The palm tree said my glossy raven, Why do you look so craven, Why did you drop a feather, Like snow in winter weather?

The raven said, The flea is dead!

I saw the brilliant bug weeping And his sad watch keeping, Alas, Alas, Ah me!

Over the n.o.ble Flea.

Then the green Palm tree, Wept over the n.o.ble flea.

Said he, The flea is dead!

And _all his branches shed_!

The s.h.a.ggy Wolf he strayed, To rest in the Palm tree's shade He saw the branches broken, Of deepest grief the token, And said, Oh Palm tree green, What sorrow have you seen?

What n.o.ble one is dead, That you your branches shed?

He said, O Wolf so s.h.a.ggy, Living in rocks so craggy, I saw the glossy raven, Looking forlorn and craven, Dropping down a feather, Like snow in winter weather.

He saw the brilliant bug weeping And his sad watch keeping, Alas, Alas, Ah me!

Over the n.o.ble Flea!

Then the Wolf in despair _Shed his s.h.a.ggy hair_.

Then the River clear and shining, Saw the wolf in sorrow pining, Asked him why in sad despair, He had shed his s.h.a.ggy hair?

Said the Wolf, Oh River shining, I in sorrow deep am pining, For the Palm tree I have seen, Shedding all his branches green, And he saw the glossy raven, Looking so forlorn and craven, As he dropped a downy feather, Like the snow in winter weather.

He saw the brilliant bug weeping, And his sad watch keeping, Alas, Alas, Ah me, Over the n.o.ble Flea!

Sadly then the shining River, _Dried its waters up forever_.

Then the Shepherd with his sheep Asked the River once so deep, What great grief, oh shining river, Dried your waters up forever?

Said the River once so shining, I in sorrow deep am pining, Since I saw the wolf's despair, When he shed his s.h.a.ggy hair, For the Palm tree he had seen, Shedding all his branches green, And he saw the glossy raven, Looking so forlorn and craven, As he dropped a downy feather, Like the snow in winter weather, He saw the brilliant bug weeping, And his sad watch keeping.

Alas, Alas, Ah me!

Over the n.o.ble Flea!

Then the Shepherd in sorrow deep, _Tore the horns from all his sheep_, Sadly bound them on his head, Since he heard the flea was dead.

Then the Shepherd's mother dear, Asked him why in desert drear, He had torn in sorrow deep, All the horns from all his sheep, Sadly bound them on his head, Just as though a friend was dead?

Said he, 'tis because the River, Dried his waters up forever, Since he saw the Wolf's despair, When he shed his s.h.a.ggy hair.

For the Palm tree he had seen, Shedding all his branches green, For he saw the glossy raven, Looking so forlorn and craven, As he dropped a downy feather, Like the snow in winter weather.

He saw the brilliant bug weeping, And his sad watch keeping, Alas, Alas, Ah me!

Over the n.o.ble Flea!

Mother sad began to cry, Thrust her needle in her eye; Could no longer see her thread, Since she heard the flea was dead.

Then the Father grave and bland, Hearing this, _cut off his hand_; And the daughter, when she hears, In despair, _cuts off her ears_; And through the town deep grief is spread, Because they heard the flea was dead.

THE NURSERY RHYMES OF THE ARABS.

Who is that singing in such a sweet plaintive voice in the room beneath our porch? It is the Sit Leila, wife of Sheikh Abbas, saying a lullaby to her little baby boy, Sheikh Fereed. We will sit on the porch in this bright moonlight, and listen while she sings:

Whoever loves you not, My little baby boy; May she be driven from her house, And never know a joy!

May the "Ghuz" eat up her husband, And the mouse her oil destroy!

This is not very sweet language for a gentle lady to use to a little infant boy, but the Druze and Moslem women use this kind of imprecation in many of their nursery songs. Katrina says that many of the Greek and Maronite women sing them too. This young woman Laia, who sits here, has repeated for me not less than a hundred and twenty of these nursery rhymes, songs for weddings, funeral wails, etc. Some of the imprecations are dreadful.

They seem to think that the best way to show their love to their babies, is to hate those who do not love them.

Im Faris says she has heard this one in Hasbeiya, her birthplace:

O sleep to G.o.d, my child, my eyes, Your heart no ill shall know; Who loves you not as much as I, May G.o.d her house o'erthrow!

May the mosque and the minaret, dome and all, On her wicked head in anger fall!

May the Arabs rob her threshing floor, And not one kernel remain in her store.

The servant girl Nideh, who attends the Sit Leila, thinks that her turn has come, and she is singing,

We've the white and the red in our baby's cheeks, In pounds and tons to spare; But the black and the rust, And the mould and the must, For our neighbor's children are!

I hope she does not refer to _us_ for we are her nearest neighbors. But in reality I do not suppose that they actually mean what they sing in these Ishmaelitic songs. Perhaps they do when they are angry, but they probably sing them ordinarily without thinking of their meaning at all.

Sometimes snakes come down from the ceilings of these earth-roofed houses, and terrify the people. At other times government hors.e.m.e.n come and drag them off to prison, as they did in Safita. These things are referred to in this next song which Nideh is singing: