The Iron Pestle and the Girl with the

Donkey’s Head (Libyan folktale)

Collected by Hans Stumme (1864-1936)
Translated from the Arabic by Inea Bushnaq

There was a youth called Jamil and his uncle’s daughter was Jamila. Their
two fathers had named them for each other at birth and betrothed them. When
the time came for them to be wed, Jamil set out on a three days’ journey to
town to buy the bridal clothes, while Jamila remained in the village.
One day when the girls of the village went to collect kindling in a
nearby wood, Jamila went with them. As she was stooped over the ground
picking up dry twigs and thorns, Jamila found an iron pestle1 lying in her
path. She added it to her bundle, but when the girls were ready to go home
and Jamila lifted her load to carry on her head, the pestle would not stay
with the wood. As often as she raised her bundle the pestle fell to the
ground. All the while the girls were waiting. At last they said, “Ya
Jamila, it is getting dark. If you want to come, let’s start. If not, you
can follow by yourself.” “Go,” said Jamila, “for I cannot give up this iron
pestle even if it keeps me here till midnight.” So the other girls went off
and left her.
When the night grew black and thick, all of a sudden the iron pestle
changed into a man who threw Jamila across one shoulder and hurried away.
He walked and walked into the desert until they were one month’s distance
from her home. There he locked her into a castle with the words, “Live here
under God’s protection for I shall do you no harm.” But Jamila wept
bitterly, crying, “What have I brought upon myself with my own two hands!”
As the other girls were returning home, Jamila’s mother saw them.
“Where is my daughter?” she asked. “We left your daughter in the wood
outside the village,” they told her. “We warned her, ‘Come with us now or
we’ll go without you!’ And she said ‘Go then! I’ve found an iron pestle and
I cannot leave it even if I have to stay till midnight.’” Dark as it was,
Jamila’s mother made for the wood at a run, sobbing and screaming for her
daughter. The men of the village went after her saying, “Go home to your
house! We’ll bring her back for you. A woman may not wander into the night!
We men will search for Jamila.” But the mother cried, “I am coming with
you. What if we find her killed by an adder’s bite or eaten by the beasts?”
So the men set out with the mother and took with them one of the girls also
to show them where they had left Jamila.
They found the firewood sitting where she had dropped it, but the
girl was missing. They shouted and called her name but no one answered.
They lit a fire and searched till dawn then they told the mother, who was
crying still, “Your daughter has been stolen by a son of Adam. If the wild
beasts have eaten her, where is the blood? If a snake has bitten her, where
is the body?” And they all returned to their homes.
On the fourth day Jamila’s father and mother said to each other,

1 a heavy tool with a rounded end, used for crushing and grinding substances such
as spices, typically in a mortar
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“What shall we do? That poor boy has gone to buy her bridal clothes. What
shall we tell him when he comes?” At last they decided. “We’ll kill a goat
and bury its head, with a tomb to cover the grave. When he comes we’ll show
him the stone and say she died.”
Well, the cousin arrived bringing with him all the finery he had
purchased. When he walked into the village Jamila’s father went out to meet
him. “May blessings and good fortune be yours in future-- Jamila is dead.”
The youth broke into tears, crying loudly in his grief. He would not go
another step until they showed him where she was buried. “Come,” they said
and he followed, carrying the bridal clothes under his arm. Throwing the
wedding things onto the grave, he sat weeping and striking the tombstone in
his sorrow. All day he stayed thus, till nightfall. And the next day he
returned again to sit and weep and beat on the stone marker while the
bridal clothes lay on the grave. For six months he continued in this way.

About that time a man was traveling in the desert. One day he found
himself before a tall castle that stood by itself with no house near it.
“I’ll rest in its shade,” he said and sat down at the foot of the wall. A
little while and a girl looked out asking, “Are you Ins or Djinn?”2 “I am
of the race of Adam,” he said, “and a better man than your father and your
grandfather!” “What brought you here? What are you looking for in this land
of Ghouls and Afreets?”3 she asked, then advised him, “If you are wise, my
friend, you will go before the monster finds you here or he will make an
end of you and eat you for his supper. But before you leave tell me first:
in what direction are you heading?” “Why should you care about me and where
I am going?” he said. “I wish to ask a favor. If you should go as far as my
home village, take this message to the man they call Jamil:

From the top of a castle tall

Jamila sends you greeting.
From within her thick prison wall
Jamila heard the bleating
Of the goat they buried in her grave
To deceive a mourner young and brave.
While all alone she weeps
Where the desert wind sweeps.

2 “Ins” denotes a human being created by God from potter’s clay. The word is used
in Arabic language folktales to distinguish humans from spirits, such as a Djinn
(an elemental spirit created by God out of smokeless fire).
3 A ghoul is a hairy, humanoid monster who lives in the desert and devours human

flesh. An afreet is a demon from the world of Djinn. The one who holds Jamila
captive is a ghoul.
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“But for this girl, “said the man to himself, “I should have been dead
before the morning. A service can only be repaid with another, so I must do
her bidding.”
One day, two days-- the poor man had to walk a whole month before God
led him to the gate of the young man’s yard. As he stood there looking
about him, a youth stepped out with uncombed hair falling over his eyes and
unshaved beard hanging over his breast. “Peace, stranger,” said the young
man. “Where are you from?” “I come from the west and I am walking east,”
said the traveler. “Then come inside and sup with us,” said the youth and
the man followed him into the house where the food was spread and the
household sat together eating. All except the youth, that is, for he sat on
the doorstone by himself. “Why do you not eat?” asked the traveler. “Huss!”
said the others. “You are a stranger to his story but he has no heart for
food.” The traveler held his peace until he heard someone say, “Pour us
some water, ya Jamil!” Then the stranger cried, “The word ‘Jamil’ reminds
me of something, O you people! As I came through the desert I saw a great
fortress and in its window a girl who--” “Huss!” interrupted the others,
“Mention no girls before Jamil . “ But the youth had caught the words and
said “Speak on, stranger!” “If an untruth can save a man, will not the
truth make him safer still?” said the traveler and he told his whole story
concluding with the message:

From the top of a castle tall

Jamila sends you greeting.
From within her thick prison wall
Jamila heard the bleating
Of the goat they buried in her grave
To deceive a mourner young and brave.
While all alone she weeps
Where the desert wind sweeps.

“Ho!” said Jamil. “So she ran away and you told me she died!”
A lie hangs by a short rope. Soon the youth had sped off with his
pickax and uncovered the goat skull. And the villagers could say only, “It
happened thus and thus and thus and now be led by your own judgment.” “Pack
me rations and lend me arms,” said Jamil . “I am starting now with the
stranger to guide me!” But the traveler said, “I cannot walk a second
month; it is too far.” “God will repay you for a kindness and I shall give
you a wage, if you but show me the road to take,” pleaded the youth. So the
two set off together and when they gone a two days’ journey the stranger
said, “This path will take you straight and bring the castle right before
you. Let safety be your companion!” Then he turned back the way that he had
come.

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 Jamil traveled on alone for days and weeks until finally, before a
month had passed, he saw the castle shining white as a dove in the
distance. In his joy he began to run and did not stop until he stood at the
foot of its wall.
“What shall I do now, O my Lord?” he said. “This fortress had neither
gate nor door. Its smooth walls are far too steep for climbing.” He was
sitting in thought when his cousin looked out the window and called “O
Jamil!” He lifted his head and their glances met and the sobs burst from
his breast and the tears flowed from his eyes. “What brought you this far O
my cousin?” said Jamila. “Love of you drove me and I came,” he answered.
“If you love me run back before the Ghoul comes to eat your flesh and suck
your bones,” cried Jamila. “By Allah and your own dear head, I cannot leave
your side even if I am to die.” “O what shall I do to save you, cousin?”
said Jamila. “Will you climb a rope if I let it down?” No sooner had she
dropped the rope than he had clambered to het side. How they clung to each
other, heart against heart! And how they wept! “O where shall I find place
to hide you, cousin?” said Jamila. “Will you lie still without a word if I
cover you with the cooking pot?” Hardly had she upturned the cauldron over
the boy when the Ghoul came home with human flesh for himself in one hand
and a dead sheep for her in the other. He sniffed the air and said:

A smell of men
Inside my den!

“O father, what can reach this high and lonely fortress but the desert
winds and breezes?” said Jamila and began to cry. “Do not weep,” said the
Ghoul. “I’ll burn incense to ease my breathing.” And he stretched himself
out to rest.
But as the girl began to cook, the human flesh jumped in the pot and
spoke:

A man! A man!
Beneath a pan!

And the mutton joined in:

Her own first cousin

God make her barren!

“What are they saying, O Jamila?” asked the Ghoul sleepily. “They say ‘We
need salt! Add more salt!’ And I have done so.” In a little while the flesh
jumped a second time and said:

A man! A man!
Beneath a pan!

And the mutton repeated:

Her own first cousin

God make her barren!
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“What was that, O Jamila?” asked the Ghoul. “They say ‘We need pepper! Add
more pepper!’ Which I have done.”
A third time the human flesh jumped and called out:

A man! A man!
Beneath a pan!

And the mutton:

Her own first cousin

God make her barren!

When the Ghoul asked “What do they say?” Jamila said, “They are telling me
‘We are cooked and ready, take us off the fire! Let us eat our supper
then!” the Ghoul replied. And when he had done so and washed his hands he
said, “Roll out my bedding, O Jamila, I want to sleep.”
The girl spread the mattress and smoothed the pillow and to distract
the Ghoul’s attention until he fell asleep she sat by his head combing his
hair and talking. “You are no tailor, father, yet you have a needle, tell
me why.” “This is no ordinary needle,” said the Ghoul. “When I throw it on
the ground it grows into a thicket of sharp thorns that no path can probe.”
“You are no cobbler, father, yet you have an awl,4 tell me why,” said the
girl. “This is like no cobbler’s awl,” said the Ghoul. “When I throw it on
the ground it swells into a hill of iron too hard to tunnel.” “You are no
farmer, father and yet you have a hoe, tell me why,” said the girl. “This
is no peasant’s hoe,” said the Ghoul. “When I throw it on the ground it
digs a sea so wide no man can cross it. But these are secrets which you
must not betray, my child.”
When he had spoken, the Ghoul fell back and went to sleep, his eyes
shining so yellow that the whole room was lit with an amber glow. From
beneath the metal cauldron the youth called out, “O Jamila, let us flee!”
“Not yet, O cousin. Though he is asleep he still can see,” said the girl.
They waited in silence until the Ghoul’s eyes turned red filling the room
with scarlet light. “Now!” said Jamila. She tied the magic needle, awl, and
hoe in her cousin’s cloak and took the rope into her hand. Out of the
window and down the rope they slid and set off for their village as fast as
they could go.

All this time the Ghoul was snoring away on his bed. Now his hunting
dog tried to wake him:

4 a small pointed tool used for piercing holes in leather

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 O sleeping sleeper, I warn you,
Jamila’s gone and will harm you!

But the Ghoul only raised himself enough to beat the dog and fell back
again and slept till morning. He woke up and called, “O Jamila! O Jamila!”
But there was no sign of Jamila to be seen, no sound of her to be heard.
Now the Ghoul began to hurry. He took his arms and he took his dog and how
he ran to chase after her!
Jamila turned her head and cried, “O my cousin, the Ghoul is coming
for us!” “Where is he? I can’t see him,” said Jamil. “He is so far he seems
no larger than a needle,” she said and they began to run, but the Ghoul and
his dog ran faster. They had almost caught the fleeing pair when Jamila
threw down the magic needle, and a forest of thorns appeared to block the
way. It stopped the Ghoul at first but he cut and his dog cut until they
had cut a trail through the spines and were able to continue.
Jamila looked over her shoulder and cried, “O my cousin, the Ghoul is
coming after us!” “Show me, I can’t see him,” said Jamil. “There he is with
his dog no bigger than an awl , “ said Jamila and they ran a little faster.
But the Ghoul and his dog were quicker and soon they were almost touching
the two cousins. Jamila threw down the magic awl and an iron mountain rose
and barred the path. The Ghoul paused but then he dug and his dog dug until
they had dug a passage through the iron and resumed the race.
Jamila glanced behind her and shouted, “O my cousin, the Ghoul and
his dog are here!” She threw down the magic hoe and a great ocean spread
between them. The Ghoul began to drink and his dog began to drink to make a
dry road across it, but the dog’s belly was filled with salt water so that
it burst and he died. Then the Ghoul sat where he was and cursed Jamila
saying, “O Jamila, may Allah make your head a donkey’s head and your hair
yellow twine!” And in that instant Jamila was transformed. Her face became
long as a female donkey’s and her hair hung coarse as sacking. When Jamil
looked round and saw her he said, “Have I come all this way for a bride or
a donkey?” And he ran home and left her. But halfway there he stopped and
said, “She is my cousin, how can I leave her for the beasts? Maybe Allah,
who changed her, will changed her back one day.” He retraced his steps and
said, “Come, O Jamila! But what will the people say? They will laugh at me
for marrying a monster with human hands and human feet but-- O shame and
horror! a donkey’s face and hair like twine!” “Take me to my mother’s house
when it is dark and do not say a word. No man need know,” she wept.
So they waited for the sun to set and only then knocked on Jamila’s
mother’s door. “It is I, Jamil. I have brought home my cousin.” The poor
woman came out running in her joy. “Where is my daughter, let me see her!”
But when she saw Jamila she said, “Allah protect us, is my daughter a
donkey? Or are you laughing at me?” “Do not speak so loud or the people
will hear you,” said Jamil. And Jamila said, “O my mother, I can show you
that I am your own daughter.” She bared her thigh and said, “That is where
the dog once bit me.” She bared her breast and said, “Here is where the
lamp-oil burnt me.” Then her mother took her in her arms and wept while
Jamila told her what had happened. “Hide me now,” she and “And, O my

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cousin, if the people ask you, tell them you did not find me. May God have
pity on us!”

So Jamila lived like a prisoner in her mother’s house, daring to go

out only in the night. And when the people asked Jamil he said, “I did not
find her.” “We will get you another bride, better than Jamila,” said the
people. “No, I shall not marry. She has set my heart aflame, and I cannot
rest as long as I know that she is not dead,” replied Jamil. “What of the
bridal finery?” they asked. “Why, let it lie in the chest until the worms
eat their fill of it!” he said. “O Jamil, you are a madman,” said his
friends. “I ask no one to come with me,” said Jamil and he went to live in
his cousin’s mother’s house.
Three months passed. In the desert a peddler stopped by the tall
castle. The Ghoul caught him and said, “If you do an errand for me, I’ll
not harm you.” “I am ready,” said the peddler, almost dead with fear. “Go
along this road, until you find a village where a youth called Jamil and a
girl called Jamila live. Say, ‘Here is a present from the Ghoul your
father, a mirror to see yourself in and a comb for your hair.’” And the
Ghoul put the things with the peddler’s wares.
By the time the peddler reached Jamila’s house he was worn with
hunger and heat and travel. Jamil found him lying in the sun and said, “You
will fall ill if you stay outside.” The peddler replied, “I am finished
already. I have come a month’s journey on the desert road.” “Did you see a
castle?” asked Jamil. “I did, O my master,” said the peddler and he told
him the words of the Ghoul and handed him the presents for the girl.
When Jamila looked into the Ghoul’s mirror her face returned to what
it had been before. When she pulled the comb through her coarse twine, it
became her own hair once more. Her mother sounded the trill of joy and the
people came running and crowded into the house. When all the questions had
been asked and all the answers given the wedding preparations were made.
Jamila became the bride of Jamil and together they raised many daughters
and many sons.

And so they lived happily and flourished

Till at last she died and he perished.