‘Oh for a consoled heart’ [Archives:2002/43/Last Page]
Written by Abdulrahman Mutahhar
Translated by Janet Watson
M – What did the Yemeni philosopher say, Mus’ida?
Ma – Go on! What did he say?
M – He said, ‘Oh for a consoled heart, that I could plough with a white ox without any cares. The delight of ploughing in winter; ploughing in winter is like fighting with the sword! How many difficulties God has solved!’
Ma – Yes, exactly! ‘The delight of ploughing in winter; ploughing in winter is like fighting with the sword!’ And there’s more, Mus’id. ‘Oh for the eye to have what it sees, and for the heart to have what it desires. With two young oxen I plough and rejoice!’
M – And there’s even more, Mus’ida! ‘If only I knew what would dismiss cares. Suckling babies or furrows on the terrace!’1
Ma – My heart yearns for the ploughing and sowing season, for some peas from the pod, and a drink from a cold clay jug covered with wine leaves; and if only my voice was as it was before that I could sing out with all my heart. I would compare you to a branch of rue nurtured and protected by a wall, your love is a torture which needs water and tender care.
M – Come on, Mus’ida! Even if you did sing your heart out, the only people who would listen to you and appreciate the meaning would be the older generation who still understand the old sayings, and songs, and the meaning of, ‘Oh for a consoled heart, that I could plough with a white ox!’
Ma – Why would only the older generation understand, when our children, the youth of today, may God keep away the devil, are educated and graduating from our universities with certificates in computer science and foreign languages! All they need to do now is start eating asid with a knife and fork!
M – We don’t need to worry about them. The only thing they seem to be interested in is progress and refined culture! They’re only a stone’s throw from reaching the surface of the moon! What I want to talk to you about is our children, the people of the land and agriculture.
Ma – That’s all very well, but as long as most of the valleys are barren, and the land is dry and hard, and the young men with strong forearms are scattered around the cities and larger centers, there’s no point in counting on hearts being soothed by the songs and dancing of old.
‘Oh you slender, elegant, beautiful one,
like the neck of a smooth clay jug,
love is a fire oh beauty without relief ?
M – Look, that’s exactly what I want to talk to you about! Last week, I went with my cousin to his village, to those people he had a quarrel with. Later I went off for a walk to the old well which was the only one in the wadi. It’s still as it was left by our fathers and grandfathers, but it’s been neglected. I sat on the sawuruh, the wall of the well, praising God for his wonderful kingdom and contemplating the vicissitudes of fate. I’ve no idea how I came to forget my glasses on top of the sawuruh, but I didn’t remember them until I got back to the house. Anyway, I went up to my son and said to him, ‘Look, son, I went and took my glasses off and left them on top of the sawuruh, where I’d been sitting. Could you fetch them for me?’ So he went off. Then he came back again and said, ‘I don’t know what a sawuruh is, Dad.’ Do you see what I mean, Mus’ida?
Ma – That’s nothing, there’s worse to come!
M – Go on!
Ma – Last year, I went to the village and spent two weeks there. I walked round all the valleys, but I never heard any traditional singing or saw any dancing, and I didn’t see one clay jug covered with vine leaves. The Yemeni philosopher said, ‘Oh for the eye to have what it sees, and for the heart to have what it desires. With two young oxen I plough and rejoice!’
1 The second sentence is in answer to the first.
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