When a pair of teeth costing 1000 pounds get lost things are about to get wild. Although it was a pretty poetic/romantic touch to it, especially the end, still we're dealing here with a nice piece of arabian literature, which is so dense and rich I feel I am doing nothing but wrong as I try to write something about it! Jamal Sleem Nuweihed's False Teeth:
"Sana’ drew back the curtains to let in the sunlight and the spring breezes, breathing in the fresh air as if wanting to rid herself of the choking gases she felt filling her chest. Her eyes had a wilted look, her eyelids felt heavy, like those of someone who’d lain awake all night, nursing a secret anxiety and a painful sorrow. Suddenly she heard her father’s voice, speaking to another person behind the trees in the garden. Stunned, as if hit by an electric current, she drew back. As her arm struck the window, she realized what was happening and lay back on her bed, weeping in her despair. She knew who the man was that her father had been talking to. It was that vain old man, fabulously rich, who put on youthful airs and had promised to give her father a thousand pounds1 to help him restore his finances and so revitalize his trading business, which had suffered a sudden setback.
The money was to be given to him in return for The hand of his daughter, a girl highly praised for her beauty and strength of character. Her
father, ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, had accepted this bargain laid down by Yahya Bek, a man who claimed to be no more than forty but was in fact much older. He was able, it was true, to keep up a decent appearance, on account of the leisure and luxury wealth brings. But when he retired to his bed, away from prying eyes, he looked very different—his mouth like a gaping cave with the dentures out, his eyes red and bulging. He’d be racked, too, by fits of coughing. Anyone
who knew him, seeing him in this state, would never have believed this was the same elegant Yahya Bek who put on such a show of youth and vigor and met his friends with such laughter and good cheer.
To begin with, Sana’ had rebelled furiously against the engagement. Her father, a wise and experienced man, who knew the secrets of people’s hearts and the way they behaved, had reacted with forbearance and kindness. In any case, he loved his daughter very much and was concerned for her happiness. It was his financial plight, and his hope of regaining his past status, which had persuaded him to give her in marriage to Yahya Bek, well aware of the comfortable, luxurious life she’d lead. Like many others, he’d been taken in by Yahya Bek’s false appearance. The disaster would have been far easier for her to bear, had she not already chosen for herself, without her father’s knowledge, another fiancé with whom her happiness and hopes were bound up. For quite some time now she’d cherished this secret in her heart, confiding it to no one but waiting for the day the young man would be in a position to approach her father for her hand. This young man was a writer, whose devotion to his craft had held him back from seeking money through trade. It was as though he was waiting for some miracle to help him find his bearings, so he could ask for his beloved’s hand. Just how had love brought these two young people together? Love is like air, there are no barriers to block its entry to hearts ready to receive it.
All we can say is that, no sooner had Sana’ and Nabeel met than they felt deeply attracted to one another. When the marriage arrangement with Yahya Bek was made, Sana’ found a way of letting Nabeel know; she gave a letter to an old family servant who loved her dearly, and the servant delivered the letter into Nabeel’s hand. The night of the engagement arrived, and a great celebration was in prospect, with all the town’s most prominent people in attendance. In the men’s sitting room were gathered judges, rich merchants, and high dignitaries; in the women’s were assembled all the town’s most fashionable women. Everything was ready for the engagement ceremony except the bridegroom, who’d failed to make his appearance. People waited and waited, and so did ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, beginning to feel highly nervous now at the absence of his prospective son-in-law. As time passed, people began to fidget, and some even left the party. ‘Abd al-Salam hurried over to Yahya Bek’s house to see what was keeping him, and there he found Yahya Bek barricaded in his room, refusing to open to anyone. Finally, though, he did open the door, and ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, going in, was met by an astonishing sight. There, before him, was a quite different-looking Yahya Bek.
Not feeling it right to inquire about this change in the man’s face, he simply asked the reason for his delay. Yahya Bek embarked on a litany of moaning and lament.
“My teeth!” he yelled. “Who’s taken my teeth?”
Concerned as ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi was about the delay in carrying out the ceremony, he couldn’t help bursting out laughing at the comical sight there in front of him: the toothless bridegroom, with his odd, lamenting voice, as he cried out, “My teeth! My teeth! Who’s taken my teeth?” Suddenly, a youthful voice was heard, coming from the other side of the house. “What’s the matter, Uncle? What’s happened to your teeth?” ‘Abd al- Salam Effendi looked behind him and saw a most handsome young man, softvoiced and with an attractive smile, betokening self-confidence and a cultivated manner. He’d never seen the young man before but realized he must be Yahya
Bek’s nephew.
“My dear Nabeel,” Yahya Bek replied, “I’ve lost my false teeth. I’ve searched through the whole house, and I can’t find them. It’s my engagement ceremony, and the guests are waiting. How can I show myself there without my teeth?” He was simply too agitated to go on. As for Nabeel, standing there in the middle of the room, he had a curious smile on his lips. He gazed at his uncle, then said, “Uncle, listen to me for a moment. Just listen to me, then do exactly as you like. I would, though, ask you to hear what I have to say in front of this wise witness, this good man whose daughter you’ve chosen to marry without even thinking about false teeth and the disastrous way yours have gone missing. You’re a rich man, Uncle, a very rich man, and I’m your nephew, whose sole livelihood is through a pen that never dries and a heart that never despairs. But these days, Uncle, ink and paper don’t get converted into bread and butter. Several times now I’ve asked you to help me, so I can start making my way and build my life on a surer foundation. And each time you’ve refused, mocking the way I live, running down my profession.
One day I told you I was in love with a girl from a good family and wanted to marry her—and you just sneered at me. How, you asked, could an impoverished young man like me ever presume to think of marriage? But Uncle, why shouldn’t a young man think of love and marriage, when an old man like yourself does exactly the same, just because he’s rich? I couldn’t bear to see you snatch away the very same girl I’d fallen in love with, all on account of money. I couldn’t bear it. I had to stop the marriage any way I could, and the only way of stopping it was to get hold of your false teeth. I have them now, and I won’t give them back unless you agree for me to be the groom and not you. That way, the ceremony won’t be wasted.”
Nabeel then looked at ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi and spoke, pleadingly but firmly.
“Sir,” he said, “I must seek your agreement even before I seek my own uncle’s. If it should please you to exchange the autumn for the spring, then I ask you to exchange my uncle for me. He, I assure you, was poor at my age, and money comes and goes. Men make it through their diligence and hard work.”
‘Abd al-Salam Effendi smiled, feeling a great affection for this smart, handsome young man.
“Son,” he said, “I admire your resources and the clever trick you’ve played. If your uncle should choose to abandon his quest, I shall be most happy to have you as a son-in-law.” Yahya Bek looked stunned but felt, too, a surge of affection toward his nephew. He’d lost the battle, he decided, and shouldn’t allow himself to behave in a shabby way. He gave in, promising to cover the expenses of the party, to pay the dowry he’d been planning to pay on his own behalf, and to provide the newlyweds with a new house, fully furnished. And so a night of misery was transformed into one of blissful joy."
"Sana’ drew back the curtains to let in the sunlight and the spring breezes, breathing in the fresh air as if wanting to rid herself of the choking gases she felt filling her chest. Her eyes had a wilted look, her eyelids felt heavy, like those of someone who’d lain awake all night, nursing a secret anxiety and a painful sorrow. Suddenly she heard her father’s voice, speaking to another person behind the trees in the garden. Stunned, as if hit by an electric current, she drew back. As her arm struck the window, she realized what was happening and lay back on her bed, weeping in her despair. She knew who the man was that her father had been talking to. It was that vain old man, fabulously rich, who put on youthful airs and had promised to give her father a thousand pounds1 to help him restore his finances and so revitalize his trading business, which had suffered a sudden setback.
The money was to be given to him in return for The hand of his daughter, a girl highly praised for her beauty and strength of character. Her
father, ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, had accepted this bargain laid down by Yahya Bek, a man who claimed to be no more than forty but was in fact much older. He was able, it was true, to keep up a decent appearance, on account of the leisure and luxury wealth brings. But when he retired to his bed, away from prying eyes, he looked very different—his mouth like a gaping cave with the dentures out, his eyes red and bulging. He’d be racked, too, by fits of coughing. Anyone
who knew him, seeing him in this state, would never have believed this was the same elegant Yahya Bek who put on such a show of youth and vigor and met his friends with such laughter and good cheer.
To begin with, Sana’ had rebelled furiously against the engagement. Her father, a wise and experienced man, who knew the secrets of people’s hearts and the way they behaved, had reacted with forbearance and kindness. In any case, he loved his daughter very much and was concerned for her happiness. It was his financial plight, and his hope of regaining his past status, which had persuaded him to give her in marriage to Yahya Bek, well aware of the comfortable, luxurious life she’d lead. Like many others, he’d been taken in by Yahya Bek’s false appearance. The disaster would have been far easier for her to bear, had she not already chosen for herself, without her father’s knowledge, another fiancé with whom her happiness and hopes were bound up. For quite some time now she’d cherished this secret in her heart, confiding it to no one but waiting for the day the young man would be in a position to approach her father for her hand. This young man was a writer, whose devotion to his craft had held him back from seeking money through trade. It was as though he was waiting for some miracle to help him find his bearings, so he could ask for his beloved’s hand. Just how had love brought these two young people together? Love is like air, there are no barriers to block its entry to hearts ready to receive it.
All we can say is that, no sooner had Sana’ and Nabeel met than they felt deeply attracted to one another. When the marriage arrangement with Yahya Bek was made, Sana’ found a way of letting Nabeel know; she gave a letter to an old family servant who loved her dearly, and the servant delivered the letter into Nabeel’s hand. The night of the engagement arrived, and a great celebration was in prospect, with all the town’s most prominent people in attendance. In the men’s sitting room were gathered judges, rich merchants, and high dignitaries; in the women’s were assembled all the town’s most fashionable women. Everything was ready for the engagement ceremony except the bridegroom, who’d failed to make his appearance. People waited and waited, and so did ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, beginning to feel highly nervous now at the absence of his prospective son-in-law. As time passed, people began to fidget, and some even left the party. ‘Abd al-Salam hurried over to Yahya Bek’s house to see what was keeping him, and there he found Yahya Bek barricaded in his room, refusing to open to anyone. Finally, though, he did open the door, and ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi, going in, was met by an astonishing sight. There, before him, was a quite different-looking Yahya Bek.
Not feeling it right to inquire about this change in the man’s face, he simply asked the reason for his delay. Yahya Bek embarked on a litany of moaning and lament.
“My teeth!” he yelled. “Who’s taken my teeth?”
Concerned as ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi was about the delay in carrying out the ceremony, he couldn’t help bursting out laughing at the comical sight there in front of him: the toothless bridegroom, with his odd, lamenting voice, as he cried out, “My teeth! My teeth! Who’s taken my teeth?” Suddenly, a youthful voice was heard, coming from the other side of the house. “What’s the matter, Uncle? What’s happened to your teeth?” ‘Abd al- Salam Effendi looked behind him and saw a most handsome young man, softvoiced and with an attractive smile, betokening self-confidence and a cultivated manner. He’d never seen the young man before but realized he must be Yahya
Bek’s nephew.
“My dear Nabeel,” Yahya Bek replied, “I’ve lost my false teeth. I’ve searched through the whole house, and I can’t find them. It’s my engagement ceremony, and the guests are waiting. How can I show myself there without my teeth?” He was simply too agitated to go on. As for Nabeel, standing there in the middle of the room, he had a curious smile on his lips. He gazed at his uncle, then said, “Uncle, listen to me for a moment. Just listen to me, then do exactly as you like. I would, though, ask you to hear what I have to say in front of this wise witness, this good man whose daughter you’ve chosen to marry without even thinking about false teeth and the disastrous way yours have gone missing. You’re a rich man, Uncle, a very rich man, and I’m your nephew, whose sole livelihood is through a pen that never dries and a heart that never despairs. But these days, Uncle, ink and paper don’t get converted into bread and butter. Several times now I’ve asked you to help me, so I can start making my way and build my life on a surer foundation. And each time you’ve refused, mocking the way I live, running down my profession.
One day I told you I was in love with a girl from a good family and wanted to marry her—and you just sneered at me. How, you asked, could an impoverished young man like me ever presume to think of marriage? But Uncle, why shouldn’t a young man think of love and marriage, when an old man like yourself does exactly the same, just because he’s rich? I couldn’t bear to see you snatch away the very same girl I’d fallen in love with, all on account of money. I couldn’t bear it. I had to stop the marriage any way I could, and the only way of stopping it was to get hold of your false teeth. I have them now, and I won’t give them back unless you agree for me to be the groom and not you. That way, the ceremony won’t be wasted.”
Nabeel then looked at ‘Abd al-Salam Effendi and spoke, pleadingly but firmly.
“Sir,” he said, “I must seek your agreement even before I seek my own uncle’s. If it should please you to exchange the autumn for the spring, then I ask you to exchange my uncle for me. He, I assure you, was poor at my age, and money comes and goes. Men make it through their diligence and hard work.”
‘Abd al-Salam Effendi smiled, feeling a great affection for this smart, handsome young man.
“Son,” he said, “I admire your resources and the clever trick you’ve played. If your uncle should choose to abandon his quest, I shall be most happy to have you as a son-in-law.” Yahya Bek looked stunned but felt, too, a surge of affection toward his nephew. He’d lost the battle, he decided, and shouldn’t allow himself to behave in a shabby way. He gave in, promising to cover the expenses of the party, to pay the dowry he’d been planning to pay on his own behalf, and to provide the newlyweds with a new house, fully furnished. And so a night of misery was transformed into one of blissful joy."
Translation by May Jayyusi and Christopher Tingley
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