BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU WISH FOR - A middle Eastern Folklore

greenewalks (53)in #sankofa • 6 years ago

I and my Sister were watching a movie on DSTv and she kept beckoning on me to change the channel to disney world, after so much pestering i agreed and was engrossed with sport stories on the internet.

She was watching a cartoon that talks about fairies who say a magic word and you get what you want, she has been into this kind of movies for a while now and was kind of obsessed by it. She came to me after her movie and asked if she can meet a fairy and replied fairy what? This is Nigeria and we are not white folks, anything that tries to act like a fairy ends up a witch.

My sister insisted she wants to meet one and it would change her world. Now my uncle joined us in the discussion and she said she wants to be turned into a fine white bird and fly up to heaven to see God and come back. Such childish musings.

Her talks about fairies increased and to put a stop to it, my uncle decided to tell her a story about fairies.

My uncle started..
Once, in the great and glorious city of Baghdad, there was a Calif—Commander of the Faithful and ruler of all Islam. The people of Bagdad loved their ruler, yet one thing surprises them. All who came before him were amazed by his intimate knowledge of their daily lives.

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Some even said that the Calif has a thousand eyes, glancing behind them for spies. But the Calif’s real secret was this: Each afternoon, he and his trusted Prime minister, Ali ben Fayed, would disguise themselves as merchants and slip through a hidden door in the palace wall. Then they would roam the bazaars of the city, listening to the talk and gossip of the day.

One afternoon, as the Calif and his Prime minister made their way through the market, an old man thrust one of his wares under the Calif’s nose.
“What a lovely snuffbox!” said the Calif, admiring the carving and jeweled inlay. “What will you ask for it?”
“Just one gold coin,” the peddler muttered.
The Calif gave him two, took the box, and walked on.
Reaching the edge of the city, the Calif and his Prime Minister strolled through the parks and orchards beyond. At last they stopped to rest by a quiet lake.
“I wonder if my new box holds any snuff,” said the Calif.
He opened the tiny box and found it filled with the pungent powder. “But what is this?” he said, pulling a piece of parchment from the underside of the lid.
The Prime minister stretched his neck to see. “What does it say, Glorious Lord?”
The Calif read,

A sniff of snuff, for wings to soar.
Casalavair for hands once more.

“Why, I believe the snuff is magic!” said the Calif. He looked longingly at the sky. “I have always wanted to see my city from the air.”
“Perhaps we should be cautious,” said the Prime Minister. “What if the charm fails to change us back?”
“If the snuff works, then surely the magic word will too,” said the Calif. “Come, let us try our luck!”
He held out the box, and each took a pinch of snuff. Then together they inhaled the powder.
A flurry of wings, beaks, and feathers—and there in place of the Calif and his Prime Minister stood two birds.
“Wonderful!” the Calif said, snapping and clattering his beak—for that is how birds talk. A human would have heard only
Calap! Calap! But since both the Calif and his Prime Minister were now birds, Ali ben Fayed understood perfectly.
Calap! Calap! “Quite amazing!” replied the Prime minister
Calap! Calap! “Let us test our wings!” said the Calif.
The two birds rose into the air, circling higher and higher. Spread below were meadows, ornamental gardens, orchards, and fields of crops. The great river Tigris flowed slowly across the plain, sprouting canals along its length. And basking on the banks of the river was Bagdad, capital of all Islam, City of Peace.
“Breathtaking, is it not?” called the Calif. “Come, let us fly over the city.”
Soon they soared above the streets, canals, bridges, and clay-brick buildings of Bagdad. In courtyard and bazaar, people bought and sold, worked and rested, fought and prayed, stole and chased, kissed and parted, laughed and wept.

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“Truly,” said the Calif, “a bird knows more of this city than the Calif himself.”

As evening drew near, the Prime minister called, “Glorious Lord, we had best return to the palace.”
Back they flew to the lake, and landed by the snuffbox. The Calif once more read the parchment, then cried, “Casalavair!”
And there stood—two birds.
“Casalavair!” called the Calif again. “Casalavair! Casalavair!”
But birds they remained.
“Ali ben Fayed, you try it!” said the terrified Calif.
“Casalavair! Casalavair!” cried the no-less-terrified Prime minister
But no matter how they called and hopped and flapped their wings, nothing changed.
At last they stood exhausted. “It seems,” the Prime Minister said, “some enemy has lured us into this enchantment.”

“But what can we do?” asked the Calif.
“I know of nothing,” said the Prime Minister “Without the proper word to break the spell, we may never regain our true forms.”
The sun dipped into the lake as the two birds stood lost in thought. Finally the Calif said, “Bird or not, my stomach aches for food. What are we to eat?”
“Why, Glorious Lord,” said the Prime minister, “we must eat what every stork eats! Fish and mice, frogs and toads, snakes and eels, snails and slugs, worms and grubs.”
So the birds poked their beaks among rushes at the lake edge, and into holes along the bank. When they had eaten as much as they could bear, each stood on one leg, crossed the other leg against it, hid his beak among his breast feathers, and slept

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The next morning, they hid the snuffbox and flew to the palace. From high on a turret they watched the frantic scene within the palace walls. Soldiers, courtiers, and servants rushed about in search of the Calif and the Prime minister—a search the birds knew too well was in vain.
Glancing then behind him, the Prime Minister cried out, “Look, Glorious Lord! A caravan approaches!”

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Through the streets of Baghdad came a magnificent procession of horsemen, camel riders, and servants on foot. At its head rode a horseman in regal dress.
“By the beard of the Prophet,” cried the Calif, “it is my brother Omar! He has long coveted my throne.”
The caravan reached the gate, and the horseman called to the guards. “I am Omar, brother to the Calif. I have learned by secret means that the Calif is missing and will not return. As true successor of the Prophet Mohammed, I have come to take my brother’s place as Commander of the Faithful, ruler of all Islam.”
“Do not open the gate!” called the Calif.
But all that was heard by the startled people below was
Calap! Calap! And when they looked up, all they saw was two birds—one of them hopping madly, flapping its wings, and clattering its beak.
“You see?” exulted Omar. “Even the birds welcome me. Open the gate!”
The gate opened, and Omar rode through in triumph.

High on the turret, the Calif stood silent and still.
“Glorious Lord,” the Prime minister said gently, “we can do nothing here. Let us fly far from the city. In solitude we may find the strength to bear our fate.”
The two soared away, beyond the city and the plains, to a lonely forest in the foothills of the great mountains. There they began their new life. They dined on tree toads and fish, and tried not to speak of Bagdad or the affairs of a Calif.
One afternoon, the birds wandered into a different part of the forest. “How gloomy and silent it is here,” said the Prime minister. “Not even a rustle of leaves.”
Just then, a quick tap-tap-tap made them jump. They turned to see another bird, a woodpecker hunting for worms in the bark of a tree. To their amazement, tears flowed from the woodpecker’s eyes.

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“Good woodpecker,” said the Calif, “why do you weep?”
“Why should I not?” said the woodpecker. “You were born a bird and have known no other life, but I am a princess. The evil sorcerer Fekir threw this spell upon me, for I would not marry him. And a bird I must remain until another man asks me to wed.”
Her tears flowed faster. “Imagine, a man proposing to a bird! Do you see now why I weep?”
“I do,” the Calif said thoughtfully. “But how did you come to this forest? Is the sorcerer himself around here?”

“There is a clearing nearby,” she said, pointing with her beak. “He meets there every night with his magicians.”
The Calif said to his Prime minister, “Come, Ali ben Fayed. We may find help for our little friend—and perhaps ourselves as well.”

Making their way through the thick forest, the Calif and his Prime minister reached a wide, rocky circle where no plant grew. They hid themselves in the bushes at its edge and waited for the gathering dark.
As the moon rose and cast its light into the clearing, three cloaked men entered the circle by different paths. They built a fire on a tall, flat rock in the very center and sat cross-legged around it. Then the flames leaped, and a fourth cloaked figure stood among them.
“Hail, Fekir, greatest of sorcerers!” the magicians shouted, touching their heads to the ground.

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The Calif gasped. “By the beard of the Prophet! It is the peddler who sold us the box!”
Before the birds could recover from this surprise, there was another. With a clatter of hooves, into the clearing rode the Calif’s brother, Omar.
“Greetings, sorcerer,” said Omar as he pulled up before the fire.
“Greetings, Glorious Lord,” the sorcerer muttered. “And how do you fare in the city of Baghdad?”
“Excellently,” said Omar. “The people long for their old ruler, but they learn to fear me and obey. As for you, sorcerer, you have well earned your reward.” He threw Fekir a bulging pouch. “But you have not yet told me—how did you get rid of my brother?”

Fekir said with laughter. “Nothing easier, Glorious Lord. I disguised myself as a peddler and sold him a box of magic snuff. Your brother and his dumb prime minister changed themselves most obligingly into Birds! I even provided the word of disenchantment—or nearly so.”
“What do you mean?” said Omar.
“I switched two letters,” said Fekir. “I wrote Casalavair instead of Calasavair. ” The sorcerer laughed until he choked.

“A true master! I will have need of your services again,” said Omar. He spurred his horse and raced from the clearing.
“Now, to work!” Fekir told his magicians. “We have spells to prepare.”
“There will be no spells tonight!” cried the Calif.
All that the men heard was
Calap! Calap! —but two birds were suddenly upon them, pummeling them with strong wings, pecking them with sharp beaks.
“It’s the Calif and the Prime minister!” said Fekir. He fled from the clearing, his magicians close behind.
“Should we not follow, Glorious Lord?” asked the Prime minister.
“No, Ali ben Fayed,” said the Calif. “We have spells to undo.”
Even as he spoke, the woodpecker alighted beside them. “What was that noise?” she asked anxiously.
“You shall know presently, dear Princess,” said the Calif. Then drawing an anxious breath, he cried, “Calasavair!”
A flurry of wings, beaks, and feathers—and there in place of two birds stood the Calif and his Prime minister.
“Princess,” said the Calif, turning to the astonished woodpecker, “will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
Another flurry of feathers, and there stood a young woman of slender figure and dancing eyes.

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“The honor will be mine,” she said shyly, and offered him her hand.

The next day, they borrowed horses at a nearby village and rode into Baghdad. By the time they reached the palace, a joyous crowd had gathered behind them.
“Open the gate!” called the Calif.
The gate flew open just as Omar appeared in the palace yard. When Omar saw the Calif, he turned the color of parchment.
“Seize him!” the Calif ordered, and the guards dragged Omar before him.
“Brother, spare my life!” pleaded Omar.
“For your treason, I should behead you,” said the Calif. “But instead I will banish you by ship to the farthest end of the earth. And by the beard of the Prophet, on the voyage you will eat nothing but toads and snails!”

And so the Calif regained his throne, and gained a lovely wife besides. And if he seemed to know even more about his people than before, no one guessed how—for few even noticed the pair of birds that soared on many an afternoon above the streets of Baghdad.
The Calif saw much more than we,
But how much more does God see!

My uncle looked at my sister and she was in a pensive mood, we couldn't tell what was on her mind, she just shook her head and blurted out, "Brother pls can you put the food channel"?

I simply did, we didn't have to ask what lessons she learnt as long as it did the job, because the fairy gibberish ended forever in the house.