Rafik Schami - Damascus Nights

"So. Tonight I want to tell you a little story about lies, since I know my friend Salim loves lies. And if it doesn't bother you, I'd like to cut my friend's hair at the same time. One snip of the scissors and one word, a stroke of the comb and a sentence — that way I feel better, and besides, Salim hasn't had his hair cut in ages."

Salim rolled his eyes, as if he preferred to stay mute rather than subject himself to the barber's blades and scissors.

"Don't be afraid, Salim," Ali consoled. "I'll be sitting across from you, and if Musa nicks you, just close your eyes and I'll whack him one that'll have him hanging on the wall next to the portrait of your wife."

The others all laughed, and this heartened Salim. Junis spread a newspaper under the chair so that the clippings wouldn't fall on the small carpet, and the old coachman took his seat in the middle of the room.

Musa opened his leather bag. With one swing he put on his snow-white smock, then covered Salim with a brownish barber's wrap. Next he carefully arranged his shears, brushes, and an old electric cutter on a cloth he had spread out on the bed. Musa hadn't felt this good in a long time. He clicked his Solingen shears in the air a few times, gathered a clump of the coachman's hair with his comb, and snipped it off in a single swipe.

"So… they say Damascus has had more rulers than its buildings have stones — although the smallest heap of mortar and the tiniest of stones live longer than any human being." Musa grabbed a second bunch of hair, but as he did so he ran his comb right into the coachman's scalp.

"Watch out!" called Ali.

"Salim's still counting on a long life ahead of him!" Isam reminded the barber.

"My hands aren't what they used to be," Musa continued, paying careful attention to the next cut. "Anyhow, as I was saying, more rulers than stones. And very few of these rulers actually died in their beds, though the king I want to tell you about today had lived a long life, and now he was lying on his deathbed. When death began to quietly stroke his feet, the king sent for his only son, Prince Sadek, who came and sat beside the royal bed. In a quiet voice, the king asked his ministers and servants to leave the royal chamber so that he could be alone with his son."

Salim winced when he felt another stab behind his ear, and his hand jerked up. But this time Ali didn't notice because he was putting a log into the stove.

Isam laughed. "Now listen, Musa, just because Ali isn't watching doesn't mean you can butcher our Salim!"

The barber went on cutting and then snapped his scissors for show. "Oh, that's all part of the haircut. His hair's just shaggy. It pulls a little." Nevertheless, he wetted some gauze with a little cologne and dabbed it on the wound.

"So, alone with his son, right. 'My son,' said the king, 'soon I will leave this world and knock at the door that opens but once. You are inheriting a mighty kingdom. Show mercy to your friends when they eat at your table, and to your foes when they fall into your hands. Be a friend to highwaymen and smugglers, but protect yourself from liars. They will be your slow death.' Thus spoke the king and his soul expired.

" The king is dead! Long live the king!' the messengers cried out across the land.

"So, King Sadek hadn't yet turned eighteen the day he ascended the throne. He was merciless with friend and foe. In less than a year Damascus had become a city of misery. His people were going hungry, but that didn't bother King Sadek. Instead, he announced his resolve to learn every lie in the world. From early in the morning until late at night he listened to the master liars recite all the lies known to date, whether about foxes, humans, demons, or elves. For thirty years the king worked diligently to learn the lies of Arabs, Jews, Hindus, Greeks, and Chinese. For thirty years he paid out generous sums until he had mastered a thousand and one lies. When he began the thirty-first year of his reign, the king proclaimed: 'No man on earth can tell me a new lie!'

" 'Come, now!' the court fool disagreed. 'Lies and locusts are cousins. Every new person born into the world is accompanied by seven lies and seven locusts. And no one can live long enough to count all those lies and locusts,' he explained."

"A wise man, this fool," said Faris. "From what I can tell, our whole government consists exclusively of lying locusts." Salim laughed so hard he shook, and if Musa hadn't been paying attention, he would have inflicted a second wound upon the old coachman. Ali, too, roared with laughter.

"You better quiet down," Junis warned. "Yesterday they took away the son of Um Khalil, the midwife, for talking about a banana."

"A banana?" Musa wondered.

"He happened to be holding a straight, green banana. It was small and strange-looking; the devil only knows where he found a banana like that. He was drunk and said out loud, 'I know why it's so hard to find bananas these days. It's because they're all being forced to follow the government line, the crooked creatures. Take this one here. It still smells like a banana, but see, it's already beginning to look like a cucumber!' He was standing in front of my son's bar, babbling out loud and laughing. Some neighbors tried to pull him inside, but before they could, two men from the secret police showed up. They beat him and took him away."

"Miserable scoundrels," sighed Tuma.

"So. . where was I?" asked Musa, and without waiting for an answer, he went on: "So. . right. King Sadek thought he had heard all the lies on earth and nothing in the world could surprise him; the court fool said that lies and locusts were cousins; no man on earth could count them. So. . that's where I left off.

" 'All right,' the king commanded his fool, 'have it proclaimed that I will reward anyone who tells me a new lie with his weight in gold. But if he should fail, then off with his head!'

"No sooner said than done! Faster than the wind, the news traveled all the way to India and China, and the liars and soothsayers all hurried to get their fill of gold. But no matter what they said, they couldn't surprise the king."

"He was lucky he didn't know our government— they would have taken every last piece of gold he owned. Their lies do have a precise beginning, but no end," Faris commented caustically.

"For heaven's sake, let Musa tell his story!" Tuma interrupted.

"As I was saying," the barber continued, "the liars and soothsayers of all lands came flocking to Damascus, full of hope. But whatever lie they told, whether it was about a cow slipping out of an egg or about cities where melons grew as big as camels, the king would stifle a yawn and answer: 'What's new about that? That's lie number thirteen!' or 'That's lie number seven hundred and two!'

"Each liar was granted only one hour; the king wouldn't listen any longer. The minute the last grain of sand tumbled through the straits of the hourglass, he waved his hand and delivered the liar to the executioner.

"This news, too, spread quickly throughout the world, with the result that many liars and soothsayers turned back when they heard what kind of lies the king considered commonplace, and that the tellers were all leaving a head shorter than they arrived. Not one of the poor souls got so much as a glimpse of any gold.

"After a few years, no one dared any longer to tell the king a lie, not even his ministers or his wife. Soon King Sadek was sitting proudly on his throne and laughing at the fool. 'You see, the door is open, but no one is coming. Where are all your locusts?'

" 'Your Majesty evidently knows every lie there is to know,' groveled the fool.

"At precisely that moment, an emaciated man dressed in rags appeared in the hall. All the guests, ministers, princes, and advisors roared with laughter until the king raised his hand. 'Speak, stranger!' he commanded.