THE JAR THAT DOES NOT FILL - Northwestern University



THE JAR THAT DOES NOT FILL

Ahmed Bennani 1940

Translated in English by

Jilali El Koudia

This is Najjarine Market in Fes. The season of tourists has come, and so dealers of antique objects are getting ready, exhibiting their goods on their shop windows. They arrange them in magnificent order, preserving their ancient look in order to attract the sight of the expected tourists.

One morning, as they were absorbed in their work, a strange-looking Westerner emerged in the main street. His height indicated that he had come from the land of skyscrapers. He was walking slowly and staring at everything round him, contemplating the simple, ordinary objects. He gives you the impression that he was walking in the museum of the marvels of the world, which suggested that it was his first visit to this Eastern land, full of mysteries and marvels as Europeans and Americans imagined it. He is the kind of tourist merchants impatiently awaited, for he would spend a great deal of money on simple goods, especially if he was told they were antique or associated with the life of a sultan. As soon as they saw him, they started inviting him in their shops, tempting him and addressing him in a language that sounded almost English. The American would accept the invitation and look carefully at what they offered him, such as worn-out rugs, old copper utensils, cracked pottery and other various goods with strange shapes and colours. The attraction of these objects depended on how much rust and dust they had collected! The American would smile with appreciation, produce a notebook from his pocket to take notes, then he would leave.

Every day he visited the shops and took notes. The merchants were hopeful as he was surely writing down the items he liked with their prices. After comparing these prices, making his choice and about to depart, he would buy the goods and leave the dollar they were after. His visits were frequent, but without buying anything. The merchants were afraid he would leave the city before making any purchase. They wondered what he really fancied. Maybe only rare and old objects. That was not impossible for our skilful merchants. This American was not the first awkward tourist for them to handle, anyway.

One day he arrived, as usual, and a merchant invited him to sit down. He told him:

“I have a ring that cannot even be compared with the ring of Solomon. It has such a marvellous story you would pay just hearing it, before even buying the ring itself. This ring was always on the finger of one of our great sultans, then it was passed on to one of his most beloved maidens. The most amazing part of it are the risks she took in order to obtain the ring. That is…”

The American listened to the story with a smile, then said ‘Thank you’ and left.

One merchant noticed that this American was not carrying a guide-book or a camera as tourists usually did; he had only books and papers. He was probably interested in cultural matters, science and scholars more than anything else. Inviting him to sit down, the merchant said:

“May I crown you? Not with the crown of princes and kings but with the crown of science and knowledge. Let me put this hat on your head. It is heavy with dirt, but if you knew the head it used to crown, you would thank God for the privilege others never had before you. This hat never left the head of the eminent historian Ibn Khaldoun!”

The American looked in the mirror and noticed how distorted and strange his image had become. He smiled and took off the blessed hat to hand it back to its owner. He said ‘Thank you’ and departed.

As soon as the American left the shop, another merchant called to him and whispered in his ear:

“No doubt you’ve heard of Caliph Haroun Errashid.( In your country you always associate the East with his name, don’t you?”

The American shook his head and the merchant continued:

“Do you see all these objects that fill my shop? They are not worth this single Eastern robe.”

He opened a large box and produced a green robe. He said:

“You see, our famous caliph used to wear this robe.”

The American felt it, showing appreciation, then he said ‘Thank you’ and left.

After many days, the merchants tried other means to impress the American to yield the dollar they were after. One merchant led him into a further corner of his shop and whispered to him:

“I’ll take you where you will see what no eye has ever met! But let no one see us together, otherwise I’ll be in danger. So, just walk farther behind me.”

The American agreed and they walked out. They passed through many markets and streets till they arrived in a dark and narrow alley where only the murmur of water could be heard and nothing could be seen except the flashing eyes of a cat that escaped to a corner at the sounds of their footsteps. The merchant opened a door and they walked in. Then he shut it behind him and they crossed a hall to a courtyard where the merchant opened the door of a house. He inserted a key in a box and said:

“If my people know I have brought you here, they will kill both of us! What you are about to see is what I have inherited from my noble ancestors. It’s the most precious thing a Moslem can hoard. Look here, what do you see in this box? No, don’t touch it. It’s a sacred object!”

The American stared at it for a long time, then he stood up casting a look around him. Close to him was another marvel: a long rusty sword encased in a frame of glass and surrounded by splendid curtains. The American and the merchant stood silent for a moment, after which the merchant said:

“Now, I see you really appreciate precious objects. If you knew Arabic, you would read what is engraved on this rare sword…”

The American contemplated the marvels around him. He produced his pen and book, took notes, said ‘Thank you’ and left.

He was indeed a strange case! Normally, Americans would lavishly spend money on the most trifling local goods. But this one, although he was shown extraordinary objects, he did not put his hand in his pocket. This merchant had offered him the most extraordinary object, which was the key to his ancestors’ house in Andalusia. And yet, he only scrutinised it, took notes and said ‘Thank you’ with a smile and departed.

One morning, one of those merchants bought a newspaper to see if there was any tourist ship coming. Suddenly, he read something that sent him into a peal of laughter. He shouted to his colleagues and said:

“Do not trouble yourselves. If each of us can offer the most extraordinary objects to entice tourists, still we will not be able to provide what our American friend is looking after, even if we put our efforts together. This newspaper says he is searching for an island! Yes, an island. Look here!”

The paper opened with a long article headed by the photograph of that strange tourist. It ran thus:

“This American is the famous scholar Thomas, a member of the American Scientific Association. He was sent to Morocco by this association to search for Atlantis, an island that scientists and philosophers believed to be a lost paradise. So far no one has been able to locate it. As far as they know Plato mentioned it in one of his books, describing it like the gardens in the other world, happy, comfortable and peaceful. Recently, special attention has been given to this subject by the aforementioned association, since one of its members undertook a research which left a great impact on scientific circles. In this research he mentioned that the inhabitants of Atlantis used to confine mad people in its lunatic asylums to spend the whole day filling perforated jars. The more they poured water into them from above, the more they leaked from the bottom, and thus the jars were never filled. In this way they were kept busy from committing any crazy acts. They were unaware of the holes in the jars, but anyone who discovered such holes would show that he was sane again and so he was set free. Scholars believed such a practice had perished until the recent publication of a book on Morocco. In this book it was said that in Sidi Fridj asylum in Fes there was a perforated jar similar to those the Atlantis people used to have, which indicated there were remnants of Atlantis in Morocco, or in such other neighbouring islands like the Canary Islands.”

Such a story had a great impact on the members of the Association, and so they agreed to send the author of the research to Morocco to investigate the subject. This was how the scholar Thomas came to Fes. As we saw, every day he would pass through the market of ancient goods on his way to the asylum where he spent the whole day searching and comparing what he read in books with what devices were contrived to cure mad people, such as chains, straw sticks, the jar and other objects. He would stand for hours, reflecting on the jar that was never filled. He bent over it and listened for a long time. Sometimes he looked at it from near and sometimes from distance, contemplating it like an inspired artist or a philosopher equipped with precision, analysis, comparison and deduction. Not content with the naked eye, he put on big glasses, which gave him a haughty air of science and knowledge. At first the guardian of the asylum prevented him from approaching the mad men lest he should be harmed. But gradually the patients got used to him, and so he remained among them in safety.

On returning to his hotel, Thomas would spend several sleepless nights, filling pages to send telegraphic messages to the American Scientific Association. He wrote such valuable findings about the island in codes which only the members of the Association could decipher.

Everyday Thomas received numerous telegrams and letters from leading newspapers, cinema firms, radio stations in America, asking him to provide them with the result of his discovery. They were also ready to send messengers to receive his declarations or take photographs of the area where the Atlantis people used to live. In the meantime newspapers in America were now and then dropping hints that the world was about to witness a very serious discovery, referring to the findings of Thomas.

Days went by when Thomas’s message stopped reaching the American Association. The members waited for a long time, then they sent him telegrams, but he did not reply. They got in touch with the representative of America in Morocco urging him to send them back information about Thomas. The representative looked for him in the hotel, in the markets and finally he went to the asylum. From there he rushed to the post office to send away the following message: “Found Thomas the scholar in Sidi Fridj asylum in Fes lost among the mad men filling the jar that will never be filled.”

( A caliph in Abbassid period (786-809).

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