Story Circle

The pro­ject "Story Circle", devel­opped during Jumana Emil Abboud’s res­i­dency, is cen­tered around the col­lec­tive sharing of tales and sto­ries. On this occa­sion, dis­cover three sto­ries, told by the artist.

Tunjur Tunjur

Jumana Emil Abboud, Scouting for enchanted sites in Palestine, 2014

There was once a woman who did not have any chil­dren, and she cried out "O Lord !", "Why of all women am I like this ? Grant me a girl even if she is only a cooking pot, I would love her still !" And God granted her wish and one day she became preg­nant· A day came and a day went, and the day came when she went into labor and deliv­ered, giving birth to a cooking pot. What was the poor woman to do ? She washed it, cleaning it well, put the lid on it, and placed it on the shelf.
One day the pot started to talk.
"Mother," she said, "take me down from this shelf !"
"Daughter !" replied the mother, "Where am I going to put you ?"
"What do you care ?" said the daughter. "Just bring me down, and I will make you rich for gen­er­a­tions to come."
The mother brought her down. "Now put my lid on," said the pot, "and leave me out­side the door." Putting the lid on, the mother took her out­side the door.
The pot started to roll, singing as she went,
"Tunjur, Tunjur, clink, clink, clink, clink !"
She rolled until she came to a place where people usu­ally gather. In a while people were passing by. A man came and found the pot all set­tled in its place. "Eh !" he exclaimed, "who has put this pot in the middle of the path ? I’ll be damned ! What a beau­tiful pot ! It’s prob­ably made of silver." He looked it over well.
"Hey, people !" he called, "Whose pot is this ? Who put it here ?" No one claimed it. "God willing," he said, "I’m going to take it home with me."
On his way home he went by the honey vendor. He had the pot filled with honey and brought it home to his wife. "Look, wife," he said, "how beau­tiful is this pot !" The whole family was greatly pleased with it.
Two or three days passed and they had guests. They wanted to offer them some honey. The woman of the house brought the pot down from the shelf. Push and pull on the lid, but the pot would not open ! She called her hus­band over. Pull and push, but open it he could not. His guests pitched in. Lifting the pot and drop­ping it, the man tried to break it open with hammer and chisel. He tried every­thing, but it was no use. They sent for the black­smith, and he tried and tried, to no avail. What was the man to do ? "Damn your owners !" he cursed the pot. And, taking it up, he threw it out the window.
When they turned their back and could no longer see it, she started to roll, saying as she went :
"Tunjur, Tunjur, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the honey.
Clink, clink, O my mama,
In my mouth I brought the honey.”

Revised tale from Ibrahim Muhawi, Sharif Kanaana Speak, Bird, Speak Again : Palestinian Arab Folktales, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1989.

Il était une fois…. Des grenades rondes et déli­cieuses

Jumana Emil Abboud, Well at Kobar

Once there was…. Pomegranates round and deli­cious. But now there is 70 or 100 years of roaming and here we are again at the same dif­ferent place and here we are again at the same dif­ferent place.

Once, just last Tuesday, in a land where thievery and bar­barism were allowed. The world in fact only encour­aged the prac­tice of both, and if one prac­ticed for­get­ful­ness, that too was greatly wel­comed. If the king him­self claimed your wife your years your name your tears, than Voom ! They were his ! Once in such a place, there came into the vil­lage of Comfortably Numb a man searching for hap­pi­ness. Now this man’s name is Ma’ruf. No sooner had he entered the vil­lage than he came upon a young woman whose name is Almaza, standing by the well across from El-Ein super­market. Almaza was weeping and weeping her tears down the well.
Do you know what they say about vil­lage wells where dwellers dwell never thirsty ?
“What is it that makes you cry ?” he asked her. “I weep for my lost brothers and cousins.” Ma’ruf soon learned – according to some old wives’ tales - that the vil­lage ghoul had impris­oned Almaza’s brothers and cousins. Ma’ruf, who has fallen in love at the first sight of this dia­mond, vows to save them, and jumps into the well, to find the ghoul in his dwelling, dancing with stones, or was he sucking meat off bones ? It’s hard to remember.
“ I will devour you next !” exclaimed the hungry ghoul, jumping to defend his home from this arriving intruder.
Ma’ruf, being skilled in the art of how to fool a ghoul...
“First, let me give you a gift I have brought you”
And the ghoul’s eyes widened like a young needy child
“Al­right then, give me your gift and I will devour you after”
“First, tell me what are these trea­sures of magic you have here on your shelf ?”
Boasting hap­pily on his toys
“This wooden bowl—what­ever you tell it to fill with – for example : "Wooden bowl, fill up with rice and meat” - it will fill, and you can eat until you can barely move !” “This small mill, a divine trea­sure, see how small, it fits in your pocket ! If you turn the handle to the right, it’ll grind pure deli­cious water ; and to the left, an entire sea !" “This stick, if you say to it : ’O my stick, keep moving, on the side of my neigh­bour hit­ting !’ the stick will keep on hit­ting on the side of your neigh­bours until they return every­thing they ever thieved away.”
“And these that sparkle what are they ?” asked Ma’ruf
They are the eyes of the brothers-seers of all things with the courage to see and not turn away. They are as they are in this jar of jars
And these are the souls of cousins, the very cousins that once reminded you of all things that are an exten­sion of your­self. There they are as they are in that jar,”
“This jar stands alone, is it the same ?”
“In this jar, I keep my own soul,” replied the needy ghoul.

Il était une fois, … Ils étaient une fois
Trois frères qui ne vivaient pas très loin d’ici / d’elle.

Jumana Emil Abboud, Looking for springs, Kobar village, Palestine, 2014

Once there was…Once there were
Three brothers who lived not too far from here/her.

Once there was…once there were
Three brothers who lived not too far from here/her and they enjoyed a good hunt. Before I tell you about the hunt; a few words about their mother, the great Queen. Their mother was a great Queen, but she knew her time would soon be ending. She said to them, "Listen! I’m about to die. Promise me to rule as I have ruled, with fair­ness and com­pas­sion.”

And sure enough, a day came and a day went,
and another day came and another went, and the Queen passed away.
They buried her alongside her fourth hus­band, a farmer in his boy­hood, at the foot of the fault­less water spring of Ein Qinya. A day came and a day went and a mirac­u­lous oak tree grew where her body lay buried.

And each day the brothers would visit the tree respecting the water she skirted with her mas­sive trunk.

Then, one day (yes­terday or tomorrow), a gazelle sud­denly sprang before them and Oh, how she filled their eyes! All three brothers argued over who should hunt her. This one said, "She’s my prey!" and that one said, "She’s mine!" Finally, they agreed that if the gazelle passes near one of them, then she’s his and his alone to hunt.

I have to tell you that she was not really a gazelle. She was a young lady from the spirit world, and capable of trans­forming her­self to her animal form at will.

She gazed at them, and, since a good person always stands out, she picked one of the brothers, the eldest, Alqaader, and she passed right under his horse.

"All right, brothers," Alqaader announced. "You must go back now. She’s mine."
He chased the gazelle and chased the gazelle, until he lost her in the wilder­ness of a new illegal set­tle­ment, and there, he came upon a lioness giving birth and having a dif­fi­cult time with it. She begged the young man for help and so he did, and in return the lioness gave Alqaader three hairs from the mane of her two new­borns. "If you’re ever in a tight spot, just rub this mane, and before you know it, we’ll be there."

In the morning, gazelle appeared again and they did as they had done before. She filled his eyes and ran. Forgetting the world and the word behind him, Alqaader jumped and chased after her, until, on the fourth day, gazelle led him into her own city.

This gazelle has suitors all over the world. See her castle? Every time one of them comes asking for her hand, her father says, ’He who can move this moun­tain can have her hand; and who­ever fails will imme­di­ately be impris­oned inside a jar’

I told the same story to Alqaader, and do you know what he said? He said: I’m going to ask for her hand!!