Abundance from the Desert: Classical Arabic Poetry

4 Making the Remembrance Dear

68 4 Making the Remembrance Dear Where care lodges, sleep will never lie. —William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet In this chapter we will discuss three shorter works by the preeminent female poet of classical Arabic literature, al-Khansa’ (d. ca. 646). Before recounting her biography, let us acquaint ourselves with some general facts about Arabic poetry composed by women during the pre-Islamic period (to which we ascribe the preponderance of al-Khansa’’s verse) and take into account the important research that has been done recently on this subject. At the outset, one notes that poetry composed by women constitutes a fraction of what has survived from the pre-Islamic era (and indeed, from the classical era generally). The early scholars who, beginning in the second half of the eighth century, transcribed the old orally preserved Arabic poetry were men, and they got their material from Bedouin male transmitters. Not surprisingly, the poetry they recorded concerns almost exclusively the personal experiences of men and the public affairs of tribes from a male perspective. The relatively small portion of women’s poetry that they recorded is furthermore limited quite strictly to one type of expression: the lament for a fallen brother, father, or husband.1 Though one may readily accept that the women, who doubtless occupied subordinate positions at assemblies, when they attended them, and did not participate directly in battles, were not suited to be tribal spokespeople (even if they might nevertheless convey public messages in elegies), one must assume, on the other hand, that they had as much to express personally as the men did. Surely, they too were apt to express powerful emotions through poetry. Why, then, did so few of their poetic expressions—besides the elegiac ones—make it into the collections and anthologies? Can we take it on faith that all the scholars and transmitters Making the Remembrance Dear 69 were simply not interested in the bulk of pre-Islamic women’s poetry, however good it might be? Although the scholars and transmitters may have understandably focused their attention on poetry by men, they need not have been oblivious to presumably many great works by women. Specifically, we should wonder about products of those young intertribal romances, those dangerous liaisons that seemed so frequently to have stimulated poetry in the men. Where are the poems by women about getting over lost love (incidentally, how interesting and perhaps moving it would be to hear a poem by Nawar in reference to Labid)? The explanation for their absence most certainly has to do with Bedouin sensitivities to the subject of a woman’s amorous passion. What Deborah Wickering notes in “Experience and Expression: Life among Bedouin Women in South Sinai” about the connection between female sexuality and family honor is germane: A large part of the family’s honor rests in the sexuality of its women. . . . Sexuality is important to honor in two ways. As childbearers, women produce offspring which carry on the agnatic line. Sex outside the bounds of marriage threatens the bloodline, and therefore the honor of the family. Secondly, sexuality is a source of passions and desires which it is necessary to control. Segregation, veiling and mutual avoidance between potential sexual partners minimizes the possibility of threats to honor. A woman’s public status demands her propriety. Throughout the woman’s life, it is the duty of her father and brothers to protect and defend her honor.2 Thus, the Bedouin families, we conclude, could not have wished to hear about whatever attractions their daughters felt to unmarried young men, no less to allow their daughters’ inclinations to become public knowledge. However, as Ahmad Muhammad al-Hufi has indicated, some female expressions of youthful love got through as messages to departed places.3 Here are a few lines by Asma’, a Murrite woman: O two mountains of Wadi ‘Uray‘ira, far from the place to which my tribe has safely returned, Leave open a path for the south wind; perhaps its gentle breeze will treat my sick heart. 70 Abundance from the Desert —Yet how can the wind treat a lingering passion and an eye whose tears keep flowing?— And say to the riders of Tamim, who left in the early morning, going back with the expectation of depositing their loads, That a stranger lodges in the folds of the land, bereft, confounded, given to letting out prolonged moans; Her insides wrenched...