انقلب (شيمان)، من نومه على جنبه اليمين، إلى الجنب اليسار؛ وفتح عينيه فلمح السَّفر المُتسلل من ثعلبة درفة الباب. انجهر من شعاع الشمس المنعكس على الجدار المخلوب بالشيده؛ انتفر معتزياً (أبو ولدي)؛ وزاد؛ صدق اللي قال من فاته الصباح فاتته الأرباح؛ لفّ العمامة الكورشيه على رأسه، واحتزم بالكمر، وسحب الرصد، وقف فوق العتبة هلّل وكبّر، ثم تنخّم وبصق على يساره؛ أيقن أن الوقت ضحى، فترنم كعادته (يا هابط السوق عصرا والنهار اقفى، الضحوة للفايدة ما هي كما الروحه؛ أنشبت فـ الحُب قلبي والحُب اشناوي) قامت الزوجة بتثاقل ونفسها راس خشمها، أول جملة قالتها؛ بقعى تروح عليك ما بت إلا تتهوّل طوال الليل، كلما غفت عيوني انفرطت، (ألحقوا البقير بتطيح في البير) التفت نحوها وشاف كعشتها كما العقشة، فقال بصوت خافت؛ الله يجعل لسانك بالراعية والله ما خلّيتِ ولا بقّيتِ عن بقر حلِي، ثم غيّر الموضوع ورفع صوته؛ وش هذي السما يا ربي ما فيها لَوَسه؟ وأضاف؛ ليت الفقيه ما يتقحّط كل جمعة (صيّباً نافعاً) لا شفنا لا هاذي ولا ذيك؛ حسّ انه وقع في محذور؛ فاستغفر، ورفع يديه مرددا؛ يا الله انا نجور بك من المنقود؛ ودهر ما ودّنا يعود.
نشدته الزوجة؛ وش انحن فيه من نجم، ردّ بضيقه؛ نجم عصاة بقعا؛ وهي ما زالت تكد شعرها بالمنفاش فوق دوشقها؛ فقالت؛ ترى جارك (خوطان) تُكْلَه؛ وبيره عِدّ؛ وثيرانه ساحليّه؛ اطلبه يبغر الركيب؛ ردّ عليها؛ والله اني ادري وش الركيب اللي محتاج البغرة، علّقت؛ الله ربنا وربّك، فختم الحوار معها بقوله (ان ما سقانا الله متنا من الظما). لملمت الشعر المتساقط من رأسها؛ وكوّرته في باطن كفها؛ وأدخلته في غار بين حجارة جدار البيت من الخارج؛ واحتفشت ثوبها؛ وتواطت على خواشعها؛ فتناقز صغارها نحوها؛ فأسندت رؤوسهم على فخذيها، وبدأت تقصّع الحشرات مصاصة الدماء، وكلما قصعت واحدة، شفطت هوى بفمها وأصدرت صوتاً، ثم مسحت الدم من ظفرها في حرف الدرجة.
زهد (شيمان) في البيت وفي المرة والسفان اللي شعورهم ترحى؛ فطلّ برأسه من فوق الجناح المتهايل، إلا والعريفة يكيل حنطة في أكياس، فقال في نفسه؛ وجبت الدلّة؛ ندر يسعى؛ صبّح عليه بالخير، وسحب المُدّ فأرخى له العريفة يده، ودّه بالكُفيّا؛ وطلب من زوجته تفتّح الأكياس لشيمان؛ لين يرشّق لهم الدّلة؛ استغل دخلة العريفة للشقيق؛ ونشدها؛ وين بيغدي هذا الحَبّ عريفتنا؟ جاوبت؛ بيسعّره عند (ثومان) بكره في سوق الخميس، أردف؛ كيف له؟ فقالت؛ بنديّح نحجّ إن كتب الله؛ طلب من العريفة إبرة الخياط والدبارة؛ وخيّط فتحتي الكيسين؛ وأسندهما على مدماك مجاور لمدخل البيت؛ بقي فوق الهدم حبات قمح؛ ولمح الديك والدجاج مقبلين؛ لقطها بسرعة وقال مخاطباً الديك؛ والله ما تحل لك لا انته ولا نسوانك؛ وأضاف؛ اندر الدمنة تنخش لك دواحيس.
رشف له من الفنجال كم رشفة؛ ونشد العريفة؛ وش طرى عليك بالحج وانت ما تاهب لربي ركعة؟ ضحك وقال؛ تحسبها بالمراكعة يا ذِرى ملجّقة المُقطان؛ ترى ربي ما يحاسب إلا على النوايا، ويا عامل عملك لك. شكى عليه من الوقت؛ ردّ عليه؛ عند الله خير كثير؛ ثم قال؛ افتح حثلك؛ فغرف له من الشطيرة نُصيف طحين؛ وقال؛ الله يفتح لك افلح تفاول مع عيالك؛ وطلّق عظامك في الوادي؛ رُكبك عادت كما رُكب القرحان؛ علّقت زوجة العريفة؛ (يشوف عيب الناس ما شاف عيبه).
لقيها على حالها؛ تقصّع والورعان مغمضين عيونهم؛ ومستسلمين للهرش والفلّاي؛ فنهرها؛ قومي يا بنت متشرّك الدجاجة؛ ردت عليه؛ الله يجعلك دفع وصدقة عن آبي ما تسوى وطية أرجوله في الحيله؛ أفرغ الطحين في غضارة، وشافها ما جت؛ فعجن وسوّى لنفسه مشرّق، وفتّ القرص في سمن أكل وبقّى شويه للصغار؛ ومسح الزفرة في فقوع أرجوله وأطراف لحيته؛ سمعها باقي تحنم وتدعي عليه؛ فقال؛ سبحان من رزقك لسان أطول من لسان الحسيلة في حلّة المواص، فبلعتها على مضض؛ وانطلق من ساعته ولا اثنى ركبته إلا عند (خوطان) قال تراني عند الله ثم عندك.
بغر الركيب بثيران جاره؛ وحرث وثباها صِيب؛ واقترح عليه (خوطان) يحجون مع العريفة؛ فقال؛ مكة ما بتطير من مكانها، لكن ذولا الفروخ اللي ما يسعهم البيت وش يقوتهم، أضاف؛ ثُمّن اغدي أحج وأخلّي بلادي، ووجه لجاره الكلام؛ انته يا خوطان؛ بيرك تغتر وثيرانك في السفل؛ وعيالك الواحد عفاسه كما عفاس أبو قرنين اللي قصّوا به في سوق الخميس؛ ولقمة الوحد منهم تجي لها مدّ، واللي ما يشقى ما يلقى؛ فقال؛ سمّ بالرحمن على الحلّال والعيال؛ سمّى وقال؛ اربّك تحسبني عيّان؟.
حجّ العريفة وابطأ؛ الحجاج عودوا من دور وهو ما ردّ الراس، فقال الفقيه؛ ما معنا إلا نعلّق له المدريهه؛ وندرّه له؛ ربطوا المدمسه بحبل من جهتين وعلقوها في سواري سقف بيت المذّن؛ وسرى الليل وهم اثنين يركبون واثنين ينزلون ويرددون (درّهي مدريهه، يا فرخ البُريها؛ شيخنا بياجي؛ في مور العواجي) وما أصبحت إلا وعريفتهم وكهلته عندهم.
لاحظ الشاعر؛ أن خاطر العريفة ما هو طيب؛ فنشده؛ وشبك من يوم عوّدت من الحج وانت باصم ما تخاصم، فك المشبك عن حلق الثوب؛ وقام يندف صدره؛ ويقول والله يا (ريشان) يا مرة مع مطوّفنا اللي حجينا معه؛ انك تقل شقفة من القمر، وعليها قوام؛ وتلوب لوب؛ وتتحرف وتتصرف وزوجها كما حجر الدياس منبطح على بطنه؛ وانحن اللُّعث اللي معنا الواحدة كما الخصفة ما تتلاقى ذرعانك عليها لا تحيل ولا تزيل فقال الشاعر (أرزاق تصلاك بالبارود وارزاق فيّه) علّق تقوله يا الرفيق أنا أشهد.
وزّع عليهم العريفة حمبص وحلاوة حمبصيّة ملونة؛ وسروا يقضمون؛ وفي الصبح خرجوا من بيوتهم بطونهم منفخة كما القرب؛ وانتشروا في المساريب؛ وما يسمع السامع إلا كما الرُّعد؛ فمرّ بالقرية متشبر؛ وسمع وشاف وشمّ اللي خلاه يرد عمامته على خشمه ويسأل؛ أُسس وش مع الناس كما حمير السوق ما غير تفاقع؟ ردّ عليه شاعر القرية؛ من نعايم ربي وهدايا العريفة؛ فقال؛ (وش تيه النعايم والهدايا اللي ما تجيب إلا الفقعة)؟.
(Sheyman) turned from sleeping on his right side to his left; he opened his eyes and caught sight of the sunlight sneaking through the door’s crack. He was dazzled by the sunlight reflecting off the wall that was peeling; he stood up, proud of himself (Abu Waladi); and added, “True is the saying that whoever misses the morning misses the profits.” He wrapped the Kourshiya turban around his head, tightened his belt, pulled out the rifle, stood on the threshold, and shouted “Allahu Akbar,” then spat to his left; he was certain it was morning, so he hummed as usual, “Oh, you who descends to the market in the afternoon while the day has passed, the morning is for profit, not like the soul; love has gripped my heart, and love is a burden.” His wife got up sluggishly, her mind still half-asleep; the first thing she said was, “You should have gone to bed earlier; you wouldn’t have been tossing and turning all night. Every time my eyes closed, I felt restless. (Hurry up before the poor one falls into the well).” He turned to her and saw her hair disheveled, so he said in a low voice, “May God keep your tongue in check; you have left nothing unsaid about the sweet cow.” Then he changed the subject and raised his voice, “What is this sky, oh Lord, that has no clouds?” He added, “I wish the scholar wouldn’t be so stingy every Friday (a beneficial rain) without us seeing either this or that.” He felt he had fallen into a trap; so he sought forgiveness and raised his hands, repeating, “Oh God, I seek refuge in You from the cursed; may the time we desire not return.”
His wife asked him, “What star are we under?” He replied with annoyance, “A star of misfortune.” She was still combing her hair with a comb above her head; she said, “Your neighbor (Khotan) is a glutton; his well is plentiful; and his bulls are coastal; ask him to help you with the burden.” He replied, “I know well what burden I need help with.” She remarked, “God is our Lord and yours,” and he ended the conversation with, “If God doesn’t provide for us, we will die of thirst.” She gathered the fallen hair from her head; rolled it in her palm; and placed it in a crevice between the stones of the house’s outer wall; she adjusted her dress; and settled on her knees; then her little ones jumped towards her; so she rested their heads on her thighs and began to swat the blood-sucking insects; every time she swatted one, she sucked in air through her mouth and made a sound, then wiped the blood from her nail on the edge of the step.
(Sheyman) lost interest in the house and the time and the people whose feelings were hurt; he peeked out from the swaying wing, and there was the grocer measuring wheat into bags, so he thought to himself; “The coffee pot is needed; a vow must be fulfilled; good morning to him,” and he pulled the rope, so the grocer extended his hand to him, wishing him well; and he asked his wife to open the bags for Sheyman; so he could pour them the coffee. He took advantage of the grocer’s entrance to the brother; and asked her, “Where will this grain be fed, our grocer?” She answered, “He will sell it at (Thuman) tomorrow in the Thursday market.” He added, “How will he do that?” She said, “We will manage if God wills.” He asked the grocer for a sewing needle and thread; and sewed the openings of the two bags; and leaned them against a nearby step at the entrance of the house; some grains of wheat remained on the ruins; and he saw the rooster and the hens approaching; he quickly picked them up and said to the rooster, “By God, you and your women are not allowed to eat this.” He added, “The dung will bring you troubles.”
He took a few sips from the cup; and asked the grocer, “What happened to you during the pilgrimage while you weren’t praying to God?” He laughed and said, “You think it’s about the prayers, oh you who are like the twisted branches of the trees; see, God only holds us accountable for intentions, and you do your work for yourself.” He complained to him about the time; he replied, “With God, there is much good;” then he said, “Open your hand;” so he scooped him a handful of flour; and said, “May God open for you; may you prosper with your children; and let your bones rest in the valley; your knees have returned like the knees of a cripple.” The grocer’s wife commented, “(He sees the faults of others but does not see his own).”
He found her as she was; swatting while the children had their eyes closed; and were surrendering to the scratching and the itching; so he scolded her; “Get up, daughter, and tend to the chicken.” She replied, “May God make you a shield and a charity for my father; your feet are not worth a single step in the trap.” He poured the flour into a bowl, and saw she hadn’t come; so he kneaded and made himself a flatbread, and fried the dough in some oil and saved a little for the little ones; and wiped the sweat from his feet and the edges of his beard; he heard her still complaining and praying against him; so he said, “Glory be to the One who has given you a tongue longer than the tongue of the little one in the market; she swallowed it reluctantly; and he set off immediately, not bending his knee until he reached (Khotan), saying, “I am with God, then with you.”
He helped with the burden with his neighbor’s bulls; and plowed and sowed them; and (Khotan) suggested that they go on pilgrimage with the grocer; he said, “Mecca will not fly away from its place, but these chicks that cannot fit in the house, what will they eat?” He added, “Then I will go on pilgrimage and leave my country.” He turned to his neighbor and said, “You, Khotan; your bull is grazing and your bulls are in the lowlands; and your children are as messy as the children of the one with two horns who was cut in the Thursday market; and one bite from them comes with a flood, and whoever does not toil will not find.” He said, “In the name of the Merciful, on the lawful and the children;” he named it and said, “Does your Lord think I am sick?”
The grocer delayed the pilgrimage; the pilgrims returned from their homes and he did not return the head; the scholar said, “We have no choice but to hang the mat for him; and prepare it for him;” they tied the mat with a rope from both sides and hung it from the beams of the roof of the house; and the night passed with two riding and two descending, repeating, “Hang the mat, oh chick of the wild; our sheikh is coming; in the midst of the chaos.” And it was not morning until their grocer and his elder were with them.
The poet noticed that the grocer’s mood was not good; so he asked him, “What happened since the day you returned from the pilgrimage, and you have been silent and not arguing?” He loosened the clasp from the neck of his garment; and began to puff out his chest; and said, “By God, oh (Rishan), you are like a piece of the moon, and you have a figure; and you twist and turn; and your husband is like a stone, lying on his stomach; and we are the ones who have the one who is like a leaf that cannot meet your arms, neither can you bend nor remove.” The poet said, “Livelihoods that burn you with gunpowder and livelihoods that are in it,” he commented, saying, “Oh companion, I bear witness.”
He distributed to them sweetened colored candy and they began to nibble; and in the morning they left their homes with their bellies swollen like bags; and spread out in the alleys; and the listener hears nothing but like thunder; he passed through the village, puffed up; and heard and saw and smelled what made him return his turban to his head and ask, “What is with the people like the market donkeys, nothing but a commotion?” The village poet replied, “From the blessings of God and the gifts of the grocer;” he said, “(What blessings and gifts that only bring about a commotion)?”
