The Wonder Tree

An Arabian Folk Tale

Far out in the desert of Arabia lived a chief called All Ben Ahmed and his tribe. Their tents were
pitched on the trackless sand where the blazing sun beat down all day. Month after month they saw no
stranger, for the paths of travelers lay far to the south.
One evening, however, little Zuleika, the chiefs daughter, ran to her father and cried, Father, someone is
riding this way from the south!
Ali Ben Ahmed came out of his tent and stood beside his beautiful little daughter. The sun was sliding in a
blaze of crimson sky, and the desert was bathed in a rose gray light which would soon darken into the purple
of the night. The chief scanned the southern horizon until his eyes found a little yellow cloud of dust in the far
distance.
Yes, he agreed, someone is riding this way! Zuleika danced with delight. She loved visitors who told
stories of the wonders which her eyes had never seen. They had talked of cities with great stone houses, of
lovely green gardens, of sparkling rivers and cool blue seas. To the girl who had lived all her life in the desert
where water was often more scarce and more valuable than precious stones, these stories were marvelous
fairytales. So, she watched the approaching stranger with happy, expectant eyes.
As the cloud of dust rolled nearer, they saw that it was a rider on a beautiful milk-white steed. All Ben
Ahmed called his men to welcome the newcomer, for the desert Arabs are very hospitable. They bowed their
turbaned heads almost to the ground in a low salaam as the rider pulled up his sweating mount.
The stranger, who was proud and dignified, returned the salute. I bring greetings from the great Sheik Ben
Nedi, he said. He rides this way tomorrow. Ali Ben Ahmed conducted the messenger into his own tent
while the whole camp bustled with excitement. Ben Nedi was a very great sheik indeed, known far and wide
for his power and goodness and to have him visit the remote tents of Ali Ben Ahmed was an honor. Every
Arab in the camp busied themselves in preparing a gift for the coming sheik, for it is Arabian custom to give
gifts of welcome and hospitality to every visitor.
Only little Zuleika sat alone and idle. Tears stood in her lovely dark eyes because she had no gift to give the
great man who would come the next day. She had lived all her life in the desert and except for the clothes
she wore, she had nothing truly her own to give.
If my baby camel had not died, she grieved. I could give that.
Her mother, busy in the womens tent unrolling a beautiful piece of silk that would be her gift the next day,
tried the comfort of the child.
Do not cry, Zuleika, she said. Children are not expected to give gifts. When you are a woman and have
possessions of your own, then you can fulfill the laws of hospitality.
But Zuleika was not comforted. She slipped away from the tents and sat on a great stone near the well and
wept because she had nothing to give.
Suddenly, out of the well appeared a misty white figure which took the shape of the beautiful veiled woman.
Her smile was sweet and when she spoke, her voice was like the soft ripple of running water. Zuleika, looking
at her in amazement, knew that she could be no other the good fairy of the well.
Why do you weep, Zuleika? asked the fairy.
The great Ben Nedi comes tomorrow, said the child, and I have nothing to give him because my baby
camel is dead.
Ah, but you have something more precious than that, said the fairy.
I! exclaimed Zuleika. What?
You have the desire in the heart, came the fairys low reply. But you shall have still another gift to give.
The fairy asked Zuleika to stop crying because she shall have a gift to give to the sheik and Zuleika
will find it the next day where her tears have fallen upon the sand. Then the shining figure faded away,
melting into the misty light like a pale moonbeam. Zuleika ran back to her tent, but she could sleep little that
night. As soon as dawn broke, she hurried out into the sand to find the gift which she was to give that day.
She came to the well and stopped in amazement. Where yesterday there had been nothing but bare
sand, today there was a tall tree. It was straight and bare except the top, where it carried a tuft of branching
leaves and a cluster of brownish fruit. Zuleika rushed back to her fathers tent and told him everything that
had happened. Her father would not believe that there was a tree in the desert until he had seen the tree for
himself and tasted its fruits.
In the afternoon, the caravan of the great sheik Ben Nedi arrived. Gifts were brought and laid before
him gifts of jewels, of gold, of silk and of beautiful steel swords from Damascus. The great man received
them with gratitude and praise. Ali Ben Ahmed smiled then led Ben Nedi to the rock by the well where the
date palm grew from the spot on which Zuleikas tears had fallen upon the ground and explained how the
wonder tree had sprung up miraculously in the night.
Upon knowing everything, Ben Nedi softly exclaimed, Yes, that is the most precious gift of all, for it
springs from the desire of the heart. And sure enough, the date palm spread until it became the great
friend of the desert tribes. As long as it lifts its stately head above the sands, the Arabian knows that it will
furnish him with food from its fruit, cloth form its fiber and cool shade from its leafy palms.