راوي مَرّاكُش

The Storyteller of Marrakech

الفصل الأول: ساحَةُ الفَنّ

Chapter One: The Square of Art

في ساحَةِ جامِعِ الفَنا بِمَرّاكُشَ، حَيْثُ يَجْتَمِعُ السَّحَرَةُ وَالمُوسيقِيّونَ وَبائِعو الأَعْشابِ، كانَ الرّاوي إدْريسُ بنُ يوسُفَ يَجْلِسُ كُلَّ مَساءٍ يَرْوي القِصَصَ.

In the Jemaa el-Fna square of Marrakech, where magicians, musicians, and herb sellers gathered, the storyteller Idris ibn Yusuf would sit every evening telling stories.

كانَ في الخَمْسينَ مِنْ عُمْرِهِ، رَجُلاً مَغْرِبِيّاً أَسْمَرَ البَشَرَةِ، ذا لِحْيَةٍ بَيْضاءَ وَعَيْنَيْنِ تَحْكيانِ أَلْفَ قِصَّةٍ. صَوْتُهُ عَميقٌ جَذّابٌ يَسْحَرُ المُسْتَمِعينَ.

He was fifty years of age, a dark-skinned Moroccan man, with a white beard and eyes that told a thousand stories. His voice was deep and attractive, enchanting listeners.

"تَعالَوا اسْمَعوا قِصَّةَ الليْلَةِ!" كانَ يَصْرُخُ كُلَّ مَساءٍ. "قِصَّةً عَنِ الحُبِّ وَالشَّغَفِ وَالجُنونِ!"

"Come hear tonight's story!" he would shout every evening. "A story about love and passion and madness!"

الفصل الثاني: المُسْتَمِعَةُ الجَديدَة

Chapter Two: The New Listener

ذاتَ مَساءٍ، لاحَظَ إدْريسُ امْرَأَةً جَديدَةً بَيْنَ الحَشْدِ. كانَتْ تَجْلِسُ في المُقَدِّمَةِ وَتُنْصِتُ بِانْتِباهٍ شَديدٍ.

One evening, Idris noticed a new woman among the crowd. She sat in the front and listened with intense attention.

كانَتِ امْرَأَةً مَغْرِبِيَّةً في الأَرْبَعينَ مِنْ عُمْرِها، ذاتَ بَشَرَةٍ سَمْراءَ وَعَيْنَيْنِ سَوْداوَيْنِ واسِعَتَيْنِ. جَسَدُها مُمْتَلِئٌ تَحْتَ جَلّابِيَّتِها المُلَوَّنَةِ، وِرْكاها عَريضَتانِ وَصَدْرُها ضَخْمٌ.

She was a Moroccan woman in her forties, with brown skin and wide black eyes. Her body was full under her colorful jellaba, her hips wide and her chest massive.

بَعْدَ القِصَّةِ، اقْتَرَبَتْ مِنْهُ.

After the story, she approached him.

"قِصَّتُكَ جَميلَةٌ،" قالَتْ. "لكِنَّها حَزينَةٌ. أَلا تَعْرِفُ قِصَصاً سَعيدَةً؟"

"Your story was beautiful," she said. "But it was sad. Do you not know happy stories?"

الفصل الثالث: الدَّعْوَة

Chapter Three: The Invitation

"أَعْرِفُ كُلَّ أَنْواعِ القِصَصِ،" أَجابَ إدْريسُ. "لكِنَّ المُسْتَمِعينَ يُفَضِّلونَ الحُزْنَ."

"I know all kinds of stories," Idris answered. "But listeners prefer sadness."

"أَنا أُفَضِّلُ السَّعادَةَ. اسْمي حَليمَةُ. أَنا أَرْمَلَةٌ."

"I prefer happiness. My name is Halima. I am a widow."

"أَنا إدْريسُ."

"I am Idris."

"أَعْرِفُ. كُلُّ مَرّاكُشَ تَعْرِفُكَ." نَظَرَتْ إلَيْهِ. "هَلْ تَسْتَطيعُ أَنْ تَرْوِيَ لي قِصَّةً خاصَّةً؟ في بَيْتي؟"

"I know. All of Marrakech knows you." She looked at him. "Can you tell me a private story? In my home?"

تَرَدَّدَ. "قِصَّةٌ خاصَّةٌ تَحْتاجُ أُجْرَةً خاصَّةً."

He hesitated. "A private story requires special payment."

"سَأَدْفَعُ ما تَطْلُبُ."

"I will pay what you ask."

الفصل الرابع: القِصَّةُ الخاصَّة

Chapter Four: The Private Story

في بَيْتِها، أَجْلَسَتْهُ عَلى وَسائِدَ مُطَرَّزَةٍ وَقَدَّمَتْ لَهُ الشّايَ المَغْرِبِيَّ.

In her home, she seated him on embroidered cushions and offered him Moroccan tea.

"أُريدُ قِصَّةً عَنْ رَجُلٍ وَامْرَأَةٍ يَجِدانِ الحُبَّ في سِنٍّ مُتَأَخِّرَةٍ،" قالَتْ.

"I want a story about a man and a woman who find love at a late age," she said.

بَدَأَ إدْريسُ يَرْوي: "كانَ يا ما كانَ، في قَديمِ الزَّمانِ، راوٍ عَجوزٌ ظَنَّ أَنَّ الحُبَّ لَمْ يَعُدْ لَهُ..."

Idris began to tell: "Once upon a time, long ago, there was an old storyteller who thought love was no longer for him..."

"وَماذا حَدَثَ لَهُ؟" سَأَلَتْ وَهِيَ تَقْتَرِبُ مِنْهُ.

"And what happened to him?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"جاءَتْهُ امْرَأَةٌ جَميلَةٌ... مُمْتَلِئَةُ الجَسَدِ... ذاتُ عَيْنَيْنِ سَوْداوَيْنِ..."

"A beautiful woman came to him... full-bodied... with black eyes..."

الفصل الخامس: القِصَّةُ تَتَحَقَّق

Chapter Five: The Story Comes True

"وَماذا فَعَلَتْ هذِهِ المَرْأَةُ؟" هَمَسَتْ وَهِيَ تَخْلَعُ جَلّابِيَّتَها.

"And what did this woman do?" she whispered, removing her jellaba.

"خَلَعَتْ ثِيابَها..."

"She removed her clothes..."

ظَهَرَ جَسَدُها المَغْرِبِيُّ المُمْتَلِئُ. سَمْراءُ داكِنَةُ البَشَرَةِ. ثَدْياها ضَخْمانِ ثَقيلانِ بِحَلَماتٍ سَوْداءَ. بَطْنُها مُسْتَديرَةٌ ناعِمَةٌ. وِرْكاها عَريضَتانِ وَأَرْدافُها ضَخْمَةٌ.

Her full Moroccan body appeared. Dark brown-skinned. Her breasts were massive and heavy with black nipples. Her belly was round and soft. Her hips were wide and her buttocks were large.

"أَكْمِلِ القِصَّةَ،" أَمَرَتْهُ.

"Continue the story," she commanded him.

"وَالرّاوي العَجوزُ... رَأى أَجْمَلَ مَنْظَرٍ في حَياتِهِ..."

"And the old storyteller... saw the most beautiful sight of his life..."

الفصل السادس: الرِّوايَةُ بِالجَسَد

Chapter Six: Narrating with the Body

"كَيْفَ نَهايَةُ القِصَّةِ؟" سَأَلَتْ.

"How does the story end?" she asked.

"النِّهايَةُ... نَكْتُبُها مَعاً."

"The ending... we write together."

سَقَطَ عَلَيْها. قَبَّلَها بِشَغَفِ راوٍ يَرْوي أَجْمَلَ قِصَصِهِ.

He fell upon her. He kissed her with the passion of a storyteller telling his most beautiful story.

أَمْسَكَ ثَدْيَيْها الضَّخْمَيْنِ. "في القِصَصِ القَديمَةِ، يُسَمّونَ هذا الكَنْزَ المَدْفونَ."

He held her massive breasts. "In old stories, they call this the buried treasure."

"اِحْفِرْ عَميقاً،" ضَحِكَتْ.

"Dig deep," she laughed.

نَزَلَ بِقُبُلاتِهِ إلى بَطْنِها ثُمَّ إلى ما بَيْنَ فَخِذَيْها. لَعِقَها بِلِسانٍ يَعْرِفُ كَيْفَ يَرْوي قِصَّةً.

He descended with his kisses to her belly then to between her thighs. He licked her with a tongue that knew how to tell a story.

الفصل السابع: الاتِّحاد

Chapter Seven: The Union

"الآنَ أَكْمِلِ القِصَّةَ داخِلي،" قالَتْ.

"Now complete the story inside me," she said.

دَخَلَها بِقُوَّةِ راوٍ يَصِلُ إلى ذُرْوَةِ قِصَّتِهِ.

He entered her with the force of a storyteller reaching the climax of his story.

"يا اللهِ!" صَرَخَتْ. "أَنْتَ ماهِرٌ بِلِسانِكَ وَجَسَدِكَ!"

"My God!" she cried. "You are skilled with your tongue and your body!"

تَحَرَّكَ داخِلَها بِإيقاعِ الرّاوي. سَريعٌ أَحْياناً، بَطيءٌ أَحْياناً. مُفاجِئٌ دائِماً.

He moved inside her with a storyteller's rhythm. Fast sometimes, slow sometimes. Always surprising.

جَسَدُها المُمْتَلِئُ يَتَمَوَّجُ تَحْتَهُ. ثَدْياها الضَّخْمانِ يَرْتَجِفانِ كَقُلوبِ المُسْتَمِعينَ في الساحَةِ.

Her full body undulated beneath him. Her massive breasts trembled like the hearts of listeners in the square.

الفصل الثامن: الذُّروَة

Chapter Eight: The Climax

"النِّهايَةُ قَريبَةٌ!" صَرَخَتْ.

"The ending is close!" she cried.

"وَأَنا أَيْضاً!"

"And I too!"

وَصَلا إلى الذُّروَةِ مَعاً. صَرَخا كَأَنَّهُما في ساحَةِ جامِعِ الفَنا. انْسَكَبَ داخِلَها وَهِيَ تَرْتَجِفُ.

They reached the climax together. They cried out as if they were in Jemaa el-Fna square. He spilled inside her while she trembled.

سَقَطَ بِجانِبِها، يَلْهَثُ.

He fell beside her, panting.

"هذِهِ أَفْضَلُ قِصَّةٍ سَمِعْتُها،" قالَتْ.

"This is the best story I have heard," she said.

"وَأَفْضَلُ قِصَّةٍ رَوَيْتُها."

"And the best story I have told."

الخاتِمَة

Epilogue

تَزَوَّجَ إدْريسُ حَليمَةَ وَانْتَقَلَتْ لِتَعيشَ مَعَهُ. وَفي كُلِّ مَساءٍ، كانَ يَذْهَبُ إلى الساحَةِ لِيَرْوِيَ القِصَصَ، وَكانَتْ هِيَ تَجْلِسُ في المُقَدِّمَةِ تُنْصِتُ.

Idris married Halima and she moved to live with him. Every evening, he would go to the square to tell stories, and she would sit in the front listening.

يَقولُ النّاسُ إنَّ قِصَصَهُ أَصْبَحَتْ أَجْمَلَ بَعْدَ زَواجِهِ. أَكْثَرَ حَرارَةً. أَكْثَرَ عُمْقاً. لِأَنَّهُ أَخيراً عَرَفَ مَعْنى الحُبِّ الحَقيقِيِّ.

People say his stories became more beautiful after his marriage. More passionate. Deeper. Because he finally knew the meaning of true love.

وَحينَ يَسْأَلُهُ أَحَدٌ عَنْ أَفْضَلِ قِصَّةٍ رَواها، يَبْتَسِمُ وَيَنْظُرُ إلى حَليمَةَ وَيَقولُ: "أَفْضَلُ قِصَّةٍ هِيَ التي تَعيشُها، لا التي تَرْويها."

And when someone asks him about the best story he has told, he smiles and looks at Halima and says: "The best story is the one you live, not the one you tell."

انْتَهَتِ القِصَّة | The End