Stories as told by the Sephardic Women of Morocco

From earliest times, in societies primitive and sophisticated, epic poetry was sung or chanted by shamans and poet-musicians. Of great literary merit , the most ancient were committed to writing only after centuries of oral circulation, and consisted of factual history interlaced with legends and myths that defined moral and ethical principles. These stories of national or tribal origins and identity were viewed through the lens of the glories of war, invincible heroes, pride and righteousness, and the power of their gods. Best known in the West are such basic religious and mystical works as The Old Testament, the Kabbalah, and Sufi tales, and the more secular Russian Byliny, tales of Homer, the British epic Beowulf, the German Niebelungenlied, and countless others. Of more recent vintage are the Spanish Cantos del Cid, and the Argentine Martin Fierro. To this day, they serve as keys to ancient traditions and belief systems, and still inspire great works in literature, music, the theater and the graphic arts.

However, another strain has existed through eons of time; stories told by ordinary people about ordinary lives ... Although folk tales and proverbs have been widely collected and published for more than a century, women’s contribution to the genre has been generally ignored, the gender of singers and story tellers seldom acknowledged, and undervalued as an art form. While oral transmission in present day sophisticated societies has been opted by books, TV, radio and now, the internet, women in non-industrial societies continue to entertain family and friends with tales about their own lives, their triumphs and tragedies, all told with humor, wit and imagination.

This compilation of stories told by Sephardic women of Morocco is a unique example of this ancient tradition. What distinguishes them from others is that they are told by women from a woman’s perspective. Now that Tetuán’s vibrant Jewish community is no more, its people fled to other lands, they constitute a significant historical document, one that reveals what seldom is the subject of formal historical review: the private and intimate life, the moral concerns and religious beliefs viewed through the eyes of its women. Only the efforts of a Spanish folklorist, Arcadio Larrea Palacín, salvaged them from extinction, and we owe him a debt of gratitude. Some time in the 1950s, having spent several years researching romances and songs, he took time out to write down these stories, generously provided by the women of Tetuán. Fortunately, when published in several volumes he changed neither the style nor the substance, leaving them exactly as dictated. My translations follow his original Spanish texts, edited only for clarity Like ballads and songs, story telling was a woman’s province. Long before radio television, movies and video games, they entertained family and friends by retelling real life tales, some old, some relatively recent. They told them with a purpose in mind: to expose the excesses of human behavior -- envy, cruelty, and the arrogance of privilege -- and then to set society on its righteous path. Although critical of many actions and attitudes of their male oriented society towards women, they nevertheless upheld the ancient principals of sexual behavior: virginity, the sanctity of monogamous marriage, and women’s domestic role, values held alike by Orthodox Jews, Christians and Muslims, if not in actual practice. Changes in those rules were seldom voiced , and only at time suggested.

In general, the stories adhered to a particular pattern: a description of the misdeed or moral dilemma was followed by a long and intricate search for a solution, and ended with the balance of society restored; the guilty punished, and the innocent exonerated Unlike ballads and songs confined within melodic/rhythmic structures, we can speculate that with change in time and circumstance, these stories were often embellished, revised, or reinvented . Besides, the storyteller, free to roam at will, often put her own mark on the story to please her audience and indulge her own creative instincts. Unless hidden archives one day reveal other versions , Larrea Palacín’s collection is the only one we have..They demonstrate the art of storytelling at its most imaginative, bold and compelling, imbued with a powerful sense of justice and humanity, yet gracious and gentle in the telling.

Supernatural forces play a crucial role in solving human problems. With the help of djinnis, friendly affris (ogres), magical birds and cats, luxurious mansions, gold, rubies and sapphires as big as apples, appeared in the twinkling of an eye. Like tales in The Arabian Nights, a poor man utters the magical words and a cave swings open, revealing untold fortunes in precious stones and gold.

These supernatural creatures were no ordinary run-of-the-mill magic-makers. Besides turning hovels into palaces, they shaped human destinies, fulfilled dreams and fantasies Enchanted princesses and imprisoned dead souls in the shape of doves returned to their human forms. A prince flies into a room, makes love to an imprisoned girl, and liberates her. In one story, a dead boy is sewed together and brought back to life. In another, a woman commits acts of prostitution, beggary, and theft to free herself from a curse. A princess, imprisoned in a grapefruit, is freed only when fed bread and garlic. A bird turns into a princess when a prince removes a pin from her head.

Though fantasy fueled these tales, the storytellers were keen observers of the world they inhabited. No fools, they knew that life was not black or white. Women were not always angels, nor men devils. Although fathers and religious authorities were respected and revered, ordinary men were often scornfully sketched as inept, parsimonious, and lacking common sense in practical matters. . There are no stereotypes such as fill the pages of fairy tales watered down for the nursery. Both men and women are real, believable people swayed by powerful emotions and ambivalent loyalties.

Denied the life of adventure on the high seas, the challenge of money and trade, and the freedom to roam enjoyed by men, a woman focused on her domestic life. She dreamed that one day a man would appear as from heaven, marry her, give her children and the security that, without him, she would never achieve. He would be handsome beyond compare, rich as Croesus, and of noble and ancient lineage. All the twists and turns of plot, of character and setting, revolved around such aspirations

Although Mediterranean Christians, Jews and Muslims shared many views about women’s role in society, popular stories clarify in realistic detail their differences. For instance, from Inez Bushnaq’s book Arab Folk Tales we learn that a Muslim woman seldom spoke about marital love or loyalty, probably because she was only one of several wives. Christians, married forever to one spouse, sometimes openly defied their men, and man-made laws, often at the cost of their lives. While Spanish and Muslim women accepted their husbands' infidelity as ordained by nature, Jewish women regarded their peccadilloes as an aberration, destructive of family unity. To bring the erring husbands back to the family fold was their highest purpose.

However, such fantasies were constantly tempered by realities. Finding a husband was the first hurdle of every woman s life. Despite close kinship ties, this issue often pulled Jewish families apart. In one story, two sisters, consumed by envy, plot against the youngest married to the king, toss her new-born children out of the window, and falsely accuse her of producing monsters. In the end, the sisters pay with their lives for their treachery.

Having landed a suitable husband, a woman's next trial was holding on to him, preventing him from straying to another woman's bed. And if that were impossible, to bring him back to the family fold by fair or foul means. In one story, a woman maneuvers her unfaithful husband to return home. She proves that his liaisons with other women were in fact with her, and the children born of these unions his very own.

The worst crime a Jewish woman (or for that matter, a Christian) could commit was to marry a Muslim. In one story, tricked into such a marriage, a woman prays to God for guidance: her prayer is answered; the house falls killing her husband and her half-Jewish children. This was a strange solution since, according to ancient laws, a child is considered a Jew if the mother is Jewish.

Virginity and monogamy is also explored in the Tetuán stories . In one such tale, a child imprisoned in a castle since childhood by her father to assure her virginity, is liberated years later by a clever and kindly stepmother. In another extraordinary tale of a wife's loyalty, a noblewoman, given the choice, prefers to see her children murdered in front of her eyes rather than submit to a seducer!

Throughout this collection rich and poor are pitted against one another. The rich, even members of one’s own family, were often regarded as villains, mean, stingy, and devious; the poor as noble, generous and kindhearted. Only the top echelon of royalty was spared disparagement.: Since every poor girl dreamed of marrying a king or a prince, they were elevated to hero status, noble in body and spirit. Lower ranking dukes and counts, — on the other hand, were painted in the blackest colors as seducers and traitors ready to lie, and make shady deals even with the devil. When a prince had an illicit love affair with a poor girl, and children born of the union, all attendant difficulties were smoothed away; the couple were married with a sumptuous wedding, and poor and noble families united in affectionate and unbreakable bonds. Since there were no Jewish princes and kings, we can assume that they were metaphors for the rich and powerful.

A number of stories gleefully pinpoint the failings of men. One humorous story recounts the misfortunes of a foolish man. In a series of commercial deals, a man exchanges an article each time for one of diminishing value until he is left penniless. In another, the hungry wife of a stingy man outwits her husband by an ingenuous trick: she eats an entire meal herself and then accuses her husband's guest of the deed. The poor man runs for his life mistakenly believing that her husband is about to kill him. The husband never discovers his wife's deception; meanwhile the woman enjoys a full meal.

As indicated here, these storytellers, although subservient to husbands and their families, never portrayed themselves as weak-willed kitchen drudges. On the contrary, they considered themselves clever and enterprising, and knew how to extract victory from defeat. One rare story, however, praises a woman for her biological role. A wise woman, a virgin and daughter of a hajan, a Jewish holy man, impregnated by sacred smoke, gives birth to an extraordinarily gifted son, The story ends with the "baby" extolling not only his mother’s virtue but her nurturing womb where he had lived safe and sound for nine months.

Although the storytellers were modern 20th century women, they delighted telling these fanciful stories. Did they believe in djinnis, affris, and talking eagles? When I asked them, they laughed and shrugged their shoulders. I suspect they do, somewhat, well, maybe, who knows? Old beliefs have powerful staying power. One afternoon as I had mint tea at the cafe in the shadow of the tiled Moroccan tower in Tetuán's Plaza de España, I boasted to an educated Moroccan that the Empire State Building in New York was taller than his tower. Of course", he said with the confidence born of faith, "it must have been built by a djinni."

--Henrietta Yurchenco