Child Fairy Tale
My sun banner never shines
And the darkness is....he
Drink light
All of it is not full
Child Fairy Tale By: Ibrahim S. Nadir, Mosul.Iraq
My sun banner never shines
And the darkness is....he
Drink light
All of it is not full
Child Fairy Tale By: Ibrahim S. Nadir, Mosul.Iraq
This is the story, as it happened, starting from the first scene to the last chapter in it, until the curtain is drawn, and the theater is darkened by the event and everything goes its way.
An old man did not see her or tell her to me that autumn is blooming in her garden that was roasted by the harvest sun.
The characters of this story I see jumping here and there whenever my memory comes out of its isolation, I imagine that it happened today or yesterday.
Here she is in front of me again, showing herself in the same trousers that my eyes picked up and stored in my skull when I was a child at the age of ten, when I accompanied my father on a trip to a village far from the banks of the Tigris, and I was seeing the foothills of Makhoul for the first
time.
Spring was then breathing its breath in its last removal, and from a distance a pluck of scattered greenery was still scattered by some of the folds of the edem, and swarms of rabbits, cats, pheasants and larks were fleeing from the treacherous treacherous treacherous rivers and descending towards the distant banks of the river.
As soon as we arrived in the village, we went to the house of the owner of the tractor that we wanted to buy.
The man who owned the tractor welcomed us and insisted on staying overnight with him, and just before the afternoon prayer we went to inspect the tractor with many specifications and great capabilities.
The jar was beautiful, bright red in color, my father was convinced of it so he bought it immediately, then we went to the village mosque, and after praying, we wandered through the streets of the village and its only market, and in the middle of the market, people were flying around a man who was attracted to the village.
Al-Majzoub was famous among the people of the villages, he used to visit them at distant times, which may extend to three or five years, and he used to go around everyone, distributing his blessings and spells that he made in colorful and wonderful shapes.
I saw the man up close, and I was amazed by his appearance, his size, the abundance of his moustaches and his beard.
He has never ridden a train or a car in his life, so they say.
He would travel long distances on his feet, even if he was caught by night, fearing the darkness or the fierce beasts, stubbornly steadfast in madness.
The people around him were disturbed, and some clung to him, as if they were a herd that had just returned from the pastures, raising their heads towards him, shouting and scrambling with the processions to reach him and touch his holy robes.
One of them shouted:
How did you come, sir?
Al-Majzoub smiled and did not reply to the questioner.
One of the followers shouted:
God is the greatest......God is the greatest ....
Then the crowd followed him to the heart of the village for people to see, then he stopped in front of the house of the Mukhtar and began to mutter his face to the sky, then he knocked his head and put his index finger in a glass of water that a boy had given him and moved his lips, and a light rain poured down.
The muezzin of the mosque shouted at the top of his voice (Allahu Akbar), and the crowd wasted supplication and prayers.
When al-Majzoub reached the village school, a woman who was carrying her child rushed to him and begged him to heal him, then the barren, the spinster, the divorced woman, the one who gives birth to females, the married old and the single.
They all went out to meet the man and wipe him and snatch the veil of dreams from him while shouting:
Bless us, sir, bless us, long life.
People clung to him intensely, and they gathered around him and started arguing among themselves over the first house he had the honor of visiting and drinking coffee in.
Al-Majzoub shook his head again, then raised his head as if inspired
by revelation and said:
I'm going to enter this house.
As soon as the man drank his first cup, the women's cries came to fill the courtyard, and the woman of the house gave birth to a male child for the first time after five daughters, and the child's father kissed his hand as he pushed him away from him in the humility of piety, then the tables were stretched out after the 'Isha' prayer, and each peasant raced to give his best.
They slaughtered the best calves and sheep, and the pots were filled with threed and meat, and around them were jugs of water, curd, and colored juice.
The sheep in front of him had a pleasant and delicious smell that the
attendees testified to, and the drink of water that was watered from it remained full as it was after everyone had drunk from it.
Then the circle of remembrance began.
Al-Majzoub stood in the middle of the crowd surrounded by his lovers and followers, and began the circumambulation. The bubbles of butter were curling up and swelling on the lips and the screams were getting louder and louder, and the man who was attracted lifted his torso and bent until his head touched the ground, then he lifted them up and saw the villagers on the roofs of the houses, veiled and traveling, so he would stand alone and look at her for a long time, then he would close his eyes as if he were wandering with the righteous and righteous sheikhs.
As he was spinning, on the roof of the house next to him, he caught a glimpse of the beauty of the full moon, and when the dhikr ended after midnight, the peasants began to dispute over the house in which the pool of sleep would be placed, and the boys' house was chosen to sleep in.
The house belonged to an average villager, and he inherited a piece of land from his father, he sold half of it and married the other half to this sweet girl in order to have a child and bring an heir, but the promised heir did not come.
The poor farmer was anxious and anxious, so he presented himself to the best doctors in the city and traveled to Baghdad and ate everything that was prescribed to him at the highest prices, but his endeavor failed.
The poor man rejoiced and his heart flew when the Majzoub entered his house, and out of concern for his comfort, he left the upper room for him and went down alone to sleep in the provisioning room, and his wife remained serving Mabrouk and giving him what he needed while she was sitting in front of him while he was touching her hair and wiping her belly, then he began to bless her in his own way. The sun rose and the noon prayer came, and the Majzoub did not come to the mosque.
One of the peasants said:
He is now praying with the saints at the foothills of Makhoul.
Then came the final miracle.
The farmer's wife became pregnant, and the pregnancy was confirmed three months after the disappearance
of Al-Majzoub, and the village continued to yearn for his blessings and his return again, but he never returned to her.
An old man did not see her or tell her to me that autumn is blooming in her garden that was roasted by the harvest sun.
The characters of this story I see jumping here and there whenever my memory comes out of its isolation, I imagine that it happened today or yesterday.
Here she is in front of me again, showing herself in the same trousers that my eyes picked up and stored in my skull when I was a child at the age of ten, when I accompanied my father on a trip to a village far from the banks of the Tigris, and I was seeing the foothills of Makhoul for the first
time.
Spring was then breathing its breath in its last removal, and from a distance a pluck of scattered greenery was still scattered by some of the folds of the edem, and swarms of rabbits, cats, pheasants and larks were fleeing from the treacherous treacherous treacherous rivers and descending towards the distant banks of the river.
As soon as we arrived in the village, we went to the house of the owner of the tractor that we wanted to buy.
The man who owned the tractor welcomed us and insisted on staying overnight with him, and just before the afternoon prayer we went to inspect the tractor with many specifications and great capabilities.
The jar was beautiful, bright red in color, my father was convinced of it so he bought it immediately, then we went to the village mosque, and after praying, we wandered through the streets of the village and its only market, and in the middle of the market, people were flying around a man who was attracted to the village.
Al-Majzoub was famous among the people of the villages, he used to visit them at distant times, which may extend to three or five years, and he used to go around everyone, distributing his blessings and spells that he made in colorful and wonderful shapes.
I saw the man up close, and I was amazed by his appearance, his size, the abundance of his moustaches and his beard.
He has never ridden a train or a car in his life, so they say.
He would travel long distances on his feet, even if he was caught by night, fearing the darkness or the fierce beasts, stubbornly steadfast in madness.
The people around him were disturbed, and some clung to him, as if they were a herd that had just returned from the pastures, raising their heads towards him, shouting and scrambling with the processions to reach him and touch his holy robes.
One of them shouted:
How did you come, sir?
Al-Majzoub smiled and did not reply to the questioner.
One of the followers shouted:
God is the greatest......God is the greatest ....
Then the crowd followed him to the heart of the village for people to see, then he stopped in front of the house of the Mukhtar and began to mutter his face to the sky, then he knocked his head and put his index finger in a glass of water that a boy had given him and moved his lips, and a light rain poured down.
The muezzin of the mosque shouted at the top of his voice (Allahu Akbar), and the crowd wasted supplication and prayers.
When al-Majzoub reached the village school, a woman who was carrying her child rushed to him and begged him to heal him, then the barren, the spinster, the divorced woman, the one who gives birth to females, the married old and the single.
They all went out to meet the man and wipe him and snatch the veil of dreams from him while shouting:
Bless us, sir, bless us, long life.
People clung to him intensely, and they gathered around him and started arguing among themselves over the first house he had the honor of visiting and drinking coffee in.
Al-Majzoub shook his head again, then raised his head as if inspired
by revelation and said:
I'm going to enter this house.
As soon as the man drank his first cup, the women's cries came to fill the courtyard, and the woman of the house gave birth to a male child for the first time after five daughters, and the child's father kissed his hand as he pushed him away from him in the humility of piety, then the tables were stretched out after the 'Isha' prayer, and each peasant raced to give his best.
They slaughtered the best calves and sheep, and the pots were filled with threed and meat, and around them were jugs of water, curd, and colored juice.
The sheep in front of him had a pleasant and delicious smell that the
attendees testified to, and the drink of water that was watered from it remained full as it was after everyone had drunk from it.
Then the circle of remembrance began.
Al-Majzoub stood in the middle of the crowd surrounded by his lovers and followers, and began the circumambulation. The bubbles of butter were curling up and swelling on the lips and the screams were getting louder and louder, and the man who was attracted lifted his torso and bent until his head touched the ground, then he lifted them up and saw the villagers on the roofs of the houses, veiled and traveling, so he would stand alone and look at her for a long time, then he would close his eyes as if he were wandering with the righteous and righteous sheikhs.
As he was spinning, on the roof of the house next to him, he caught a glimpse of the beauty of the full moon, and when the dhikr ended after midnight, the peasants began to dispute over the house in which the pool of sleep would be placed, and the boys' house was chosen to sleep in.
The house belonged to an average villager, and he inherited a piece of land from his father, he sold half of it and married the other half to this sweet girl in order to have a child and bring an heir, but the promised heir did not come.
The poor farmer was anxious and anxious, so he presented himself to the best doctors in the city and traveled to Baghdad and ate everything that was prescribed to him at the highest prices, but his endeavor failed.
The poor man rejoiced and his heart flew when the Majzoub entered his house, and out of concern for his comfort, he left the upper room for him and went down alone to sleep in the provisioning room, and his wife remained serving Mabrouk and giving him what he needed while she was sitting in front of him while he was touching her hair and wiping her belly, then he began to bless her in his own way. The sun rose and the noon prayer came, and the Majzoub did not come to the mosque.
One of the peasants said:
He is now praying with the saints at the foothills of Makhoul.
Then came the final miracle.
The farmer's wife became pregnant, and the pregnancy was confirmed three months after the disappearance
of Al-Majzoub, and the village continued to yearn for his blessings and his return again, but he never returned to her.
