THE MOST UNUSUAL FACTS ABOUT SODOMITES
BY AHMAD AL-TIFASHI

 

“The most unusual facts about sodomites” is the eighth chapter of The Delight of Hearts by Aḥmad ibn Yusuf al-Tifashi (1184-1253), which, with its translation (through the French of René R. Khawam) into English by Edward A. Lacey, and the amendments to it made on this website, are introduced here. A glossary there is critically important for the reader wanting to understand the precise meaning in what follows of various key words as ordinary as “boy”. 

A few paragraphs towards the end are excluded (but summarised) as of no Greek love interest.

 

The most unusual facts about sodomites and the most entertaining poems written by them.

WE HAVE RELATED various stories involving adulterers, and quoted some of their poems, complying with the necessity of condensing the text as much as possible and selecting only the best and most delightful passages of the latter. With regard to the present chapter, dear reader, it should be borne in mind that a great many of the literati, as well as the majority of the members of the upper crust of society, belong to the ranks of sodomites. We have accordingly thought it wiser not to spell out their names, so as not to tarnish their reputations, the more so as quite a few of them indulge in these practices only out of a taste for elegance, impelled by a love much more intellectual than physical, finding in them principally an exercise for the mind, an enchantment propitious to the development of the intelligence, a method open to all for refining the faculties of understanding and discernment, as well as a manner of distancing themselves from the simplistic ideas about life held by the common people.

Among such refined sodomites, the first name that should be mentioned is that of Abu-Hatim al-Sijistani.^[1] lt has been demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt that this individual was a highly moral and well-educated gentleman. He surpassed most of his fellow citizens in piety and knowledge of religion. He grew so virtuous and so respectful of God’s commandments that he could be seen daily distributing a gold dinar’s worth of alms among the poor. Not a week passed that he didn’t recite the Koran from beginning to end. Nonetheless, he was the most distinguished man of the world, the most sparkling conversationalist and the most inventive raconteur of his time. He was devoted to the love of all that was beautiful and followed in this sphere the rules of platonic enjoyment, putting off for as long as possible the final consummation of his desire. Al-Mubarrad^[2] is said to have commenced his study of jurisprudence by taking courses from him. Now al-Mubarrad was one of the most handsome people of his time, and Abu-Hatim al-Sijistani was unable to resist the pleasure of dedicating the following poem to him:

What have I received today
for all my good actions
from a benefactor
whose words are malefactions?

Beauty has picked his features
as her dwelling-place;
now he draws the attention
of the whole human race.

His movements are the harvest
of all the worlds gardens;
his stillness, that same harvest
eternalized and hardened.

If now I meet privately
with someone
who looks like him and openly
speak of my plan

I no longer promise
acts of self-control;
but this release only increases
the real ardour of my soul.

I would give that soul for you:
the shelter where I avoid
passions and confusion
―look, you have destroyed.

Have pity on your fellow man,
for, his strength failing,
sickness lies in wait for him:
he is ailing.

Give him refuge insofar
as is bidden;
he will never ask for
what is forbidden.

*       *       *

It is recorded that one day Abu’l-Abbas, Ibn-Surayj, the Chafiite^[3] and Abu-Bakr, Ibn-Daüd, al-Abbasi^[4] met in the audience hall of Vizier Abu’l-Hassan Ali son of Issa, Ibn-al-Jarrah.^[5] The two began to argue about the best way of singing the praises of boys.^[6] Ibn-Surayj said to Abu-Bakr:

“You tossed off an aphorism one day: ‘He who multiplies his glances prolongs his anguish.’  Now show us what you can compose about those in the flower of their youth.

“You quoted my epigram. Now I’ll explain it for you:

I let my gaze stroll
through the rich garden of fine attributes
and I prevent my soul
from plucking its forbidden fruits.

Look, I bear so heavy a load
of heartache
that if I laid it on a rock
the rock would break.

My eyes express my desires;
did I not check
the messages my lips prepare to give,
my love would speak.

I think that heartfelt love
beckons to all;
and I don’t know the man,
alive and master of his fate
who does not, some fine day, answer that call.”

Abu’l-Abbas then spoke:

     “Why do you attempt to glorify yourself and try to surpass me in this field?” he challenged his rival. “You ought to have said it this way ― if you had the talent to do so:

He made me taste the honeycomb,
humming his melodies.
I spent the night forbidding him
to sing his most delicious harmonies.

He poured on me the crystal tide
of his stories, his speech.
My gaze returned unceasingly
to the rose in his cheeks,

until, when dawn had lit its shining column
in the distance,
he went away, protected by his God
and by his innocence.”

Abu-Bakr replied:

     “May God keep you free from stain, o vizier! I suggest that we take note of what my worthy adversary has just stated, and see if we can find two witnesses^[7] who are willing to testify under oath that the boy in question was indeed “protected by his God and by his innocence”!

     “That phrase was necessary for the structural balance of the poem,” objected Abu’l-Abbas, “just the same as you were compelled to make use of the opening formula ‘I let my gaze stroll/through the rich garden of fine attributes’…”

     This verbal duel made the vizier laugh heartily.

     “Each of you,” he said, “has successfully combined both qualities―grace with significance, expertise with delicacy.” And the author of this book cannot but add: Would that all men might follow the example of these intelligent, sensitive individuals, and not that of the gross creatures one encounters every day!

*       *       *

     The following story was told to me in confidence by a person of high repute in the literary world; he in turn had got it from the servant of an imam.^[8] The imam was a worthy, devout man. The servant spoke as follows:

     One day I was walking behind my master when a boy of exquisite beauty and particularly noble features passed by. My master fixed his gaze on him and then spoke to me.

     “How much petty cash do you have on you at present?” he asked.

     “Eight dinars.”

     “Give them to that boy and bring him back with you to my house. I’ll go ahead.”

     I did as he ordered and arrived at the house with the boy, shortly after my master’s return. He was already seated in his place of honour. I made haste to present the boy to him. When he saw him slowly approaching, he turned to me and exclaimed:

     “Curse you! Get rid of this boy, and tell him to keep the money you gave him!”

     I told the boy to leave and came back to my master. I inquired why he had changed his mind.

     “I was bewitched by the perfection of his features,” he replied. “The physical beauty that was evident in him at a glance charmed my soul at first. My heart prepared to take its ease, contemplating that garden of delights, all the while listening to the tender murmur of the speech that would have quickened it. But when he came into the room, I saw that his hair was long and hung down behind his ears, and the squeaking of the soles of his shoes, which were studded with nails, got on my nerves. I said to myself: ‘This chap is nothing but a coarse, vulgar oaf. If I get to know him well, my heart can only suffer. And I also think that my nature would not suit his. That’s why I decided to send him away.”

*       *       *

     One might also cite the story of the judge who roamed constantly through the streets in his fur cloak. When someone asked him what was the matter, he answered:

     “I’m looking for a face that’s worthy of being contemplated.”

*       *       *

     People of such delicacy are exceptions to the rule. Most individuals who openly admit to such practices behave exactly as do common adulterers. Accordingly, we shall choose to mention here only those among them who acquired real artistic renown or whose adventures have become notorious. Many of them made no attempt to deny their membership in the brotherhood. Others, however, even though equally prominent in that fraternity, were not anxious for the fact to be made known. Out of respect for their memories and reputations, we shall not reveal their names, but we shall equally not deprive ourselves of the pleasure of narrating their most amusing exploits.

     First of all, Abu-Nuwas. A slave merchant once told this story about him:

     I was busy buying female servants at the slave market. I had sold some and had just bought some others, all of them extremely attractive, with shapely breasts and big wide eyes. Some of them were black. Abu-Nuwas was standing nearby, and I addressed him:

     “Abu-Nuwas, for the love of God! How can you pass up women like these for boys?”

His only answer was the following poem:

There are men who like women
and who make women glad;
but, as for me, all pleasure comes
in the body of a lad^[9]!

When, barely past his fifteenth year,
tendrils of hair begin
to form on his cheeks: a tender down
reluctant to hide the skin.

A lad at that age no longer fears
the things we dream of doing
with him, and he’s lost his childish soul
that never thought of screwing!

Here are some lines by another poet with the same tastes:

Oh woman-lover, you
who don’t know what you do,
who let your woman ball
so many men that they call
you “the father of every lover,”
how can you bear to take it
―a nymphomaniac who’ll make it
with whoever can be found
whose passion knows no bound
and is not even under cover?

Another quatrain of Abu-Nuwas’s:

I no longer want to sail the sea!
I prefer to roam in nature
on the plains and seek the food that God
sends to every living creature!^[10]

Here’s another poem by Abu-Nuwas:

A woman criticized me
because of the love I feel
for an amrad who struts around
like a wild young bull.

But why should I sail the sea, when I
can live so well on land?
Why look for fish, when I can find
gazelles, free, on every hand?^[11]

Let me be, and don’t blame me
because I chose a path
in life that you’ve rejected
―and I’ll follow it to my death!

Don’t you know that the Holy Book
speaks the decisive word :
“Before the daughters
the sons shall be preferred”?^[12]

Still another, longer poem by Abu-Nuwas:

Prostitutes? Loose women?
How could their company
please any sensitive, grown man
who dislikes frivolity?

I will never travel the sea again,
for, after all, some day
I’ll be lying forever in the embrace
of two sheets of clay!

The wide wave will never be my steed
again, whether I journey
as a stowaway or a passenger
―until the Final Tourney!

From now on my place is on the ground,
far from female bottoms and birth,
growing like the grapevine,
its shaft sunk deep in earth.

Can a man really go to prostitutes
if he has a sister and mother?
Don’t you agree my behaviour’s
more proper than any other?

Didn’t the Good Lord fulminate
against unworthy men
who chase women? Didn’t He predict
they’ll come to a bad end?

Didn’t He promise Paradise
for all eternity
to men who realise it’s wrong
to commit adultery?

There amrads will minister to them
and will massage their limbs:^[13]
that was also promised
infallibly, by Him

Yusuf testified to it,
as well as Abu-Ubayd,^[14]
al-Yamani and Amr,
and the people’s leader, Zayd!

Other poems by Abu-Nuwas, in his ornate style, are wonderfully precise and powerful in their vocabulary and imagery and certainly deserve a place in this chapter. For example:

From the tangled clothing
whiteness surprises:
above the skyline of his waist
the moon suddenly rises!
His face pleads with you
by the law of its own beauty.
If your desire slackens
his reproachful gaze beckons
you to do your duty!

His eye, wet with sweet heat,
under the eyelid, begs pardon!
See the moon of his face glow
lit by your lust! Wave, overflow
and flood this lovely garden!

Here’s another poem:

Praise be to God! Nobody
can match my happiness.
Instead of water, I drink wine;
My sweetest food’s a kiss!

I hardly have time to close my eyes
and relax at nightfall, when
a new bottom comes to shake me up
and disturb my sleep again!

Here’s another very long poem by Abu-Nuwas:

I have done with stars at last
and set up my galaxy
of boys. I’ve given up soup;
wine tastes far better to me!

I’ve left the paths of righteousness
for the paths of appetite
I’ve traded my old repressions
for the tang of forbidden fruit.

I’ve broken with all the illusions
that misled me on every side.
I’ll follow my own ideas,
and boldness will be my guide.

I love a gazelle dearly,
unwisely, and too well:
his pleasing shape, his lively air
―a charming male gazelle.

His forehead is the full moon
which clouds try to obscure:
skin of dazzling whiteness,
dark head of hair.

He leaves his chess and backgammon
boards and forgoes with glee
the childish sport of cocks and doves
to play polo with me,
to race after the long-necked ostrich
and indulge in falconry.

He doesn’t find it unseemly
to wear just a long thin
robe as his only garment. Isn’t
wearing costly clothes a sin?

His qualities are quite different
from a young girl’s, it’s clear.
What fool would think him a woman?
Does he always have to fear
his period? And, even worse,
does he bear a child each year?

Such a difference! This amrad
with glowing cheeks, whose sweetness
beautifies him, from the moment
he awakens, to whom with meetness
you can speak openly
of the love you feel for him, free
of any fear of teachers
―or, more important, preachers!

This poem is by another author:

Amrads are criticized by each
advice-giver and bore;
and when I hear them, I only
want amrads more and more.

No, by the Lord God, no!
Nothing will separate me
from amrads ever in my life
― unless they castrate me!

Now here’s a poem by Muhammad the North African, son of Hani:

Censor, don’t disapprove:
for neither Hind nor Zaynab^[15]
can ever win my love.

But I love madly
a young male gazelle,
who has three features
in which he does excel:

he never has a period;
he fears no pregnancy;
and he never has to wear a veil
when he meets with me.

One day when Abu-Nuwas was visiting Ismaïl son of Yannhub, his host excused himself for a moment to go to the bathroom. A very good-looking young servant hastened to bring his master some water. Abu-Nuwas took advantage of this opportunity to give him a kiss. The servant wiped away the mark of the kiss with his hand, and the poet improvised these stanzas:

You who wipe away my kiss
from your cheek,
fearing if your master saw it,
it would speak

and he’d punish you; if I’d
only known this
fear of yours, O most beautiful one,
I’d have kissed away my kiss.

Ali al-Rassibi, son of Hussayn, reported the following story:

One day Abu-Nuwas and I went to the house of one of his friends. This friend had a boy named Badr, who had a very handsome face. The servant was designated to serve us wine and look after us, but he was rather slack in the performance of his duties, and his master began to upbraid him. Abu-Nuwas interceded for him in these words:

You, who in some other place
would be, instead of serving, served,
my heart and body have observed,
with suffering, your unjust disgrace!

Then he asked his host’s permission to flirt a bit with him.

“Do as you please,” the latter replied. “But I warn you, that boy is quite uninteresting and rather hard to handle.”

“All right, I’ll break him in for you!”

And he addressed the boy in verse:

You are haughty towards us, Badr,
because the cup
of beauty and of shapeliness
is yours now, but stop:
could it be your honey’s drying up?

If, when beauty favours us
we display
only pride, reluctance
and scorn, I say
time will take its favours back
from us some day!

Ah, under how many friends’
bodies I’ve swooned,
and how often they enjoyed
in my arms, soon
the red of dawn, the sweetness
of afternoon!

I was kind to everyone,
and everyone was good
to me, and if l did my best,
was never rude,
I was equally repaid
by their gratitude.

After this feat of improvisation, the poet turned to his host:

     “As God is my witness, I hope I’ve softened him up for you from now until the end of the world!”

*       *       *    

It is said that al-Mansur^[16] one day told Waliba son of al-Hubab:^[17]

“Go to my son al-Mahdi^[18] to keep him company and give him lessons in the art of conversation.”

The poet did as he was ordered, but no sooner was he in al-Mahdi’s company than he started the conversation with a poem:

Tell your cupbearer Amr
not to forget the wine:
your cup must be overflowing
as well as mine!

Remind that servant
to keep a watchful eye;
That’s a matter on which you
think just the same as I.

Then stretch out face down for me,
just for an hour!
I’m a man; I love to fuck
anyone in my power!

When this tale was carried to al-Mansur, he exclaimed:

“Don’t let him go and visit my son any more. I wanted Waliba to improve him, and instead he’s set out to corrupt him!”

*       *       *

When Abu-Lahfan related the preceding story to al-Hassan son of al-Dahhak,^[19] the latter replied with this tale:

They say that one day Ismaïl son of Sulh asked Abu-Nuwas to do him a favour.

“Abu-Ali,^[20] would you be willing to take charge of my son? Treat him like your own son, train him in the best literary traditions and recite poetry to him.”

The poet agreed to go and see him and began to recite poetry worthy of the Devil himself to him. When Ismaïl got wind of the matter, he sent for Abu-Nuwas and reprimanded him:

“Praise be to God, Abu-Ali! Is this the way you display your learning to pubescent boys, by reciting such poetry to them?”

“Well, that’s exactly the kind of instruction I used to give your father as a daily diet,”^[21] the poet answered.

*       *       *

Al-Jammaz^[22] narrates this story:

I was standing at the door of Adi al-Darra’s house one day when I saw Abu-Nuwas go by, striding furiously. Behind him a boy marched, prancing like a wild young colt. I asked:

“What’s up, Abu-Nuwas?”

He answered me with a quatrain:

It’s terrible! No misfortune
can be compared to my woe:
the singer wants to do it,
and I’ve got no place to go!”

“My house is at your disposal,” I exclaimed.

“No,” he replied, “I’m not going to impose a double burden on you. I’ll pay for the food and drink, and you offer the room.”

I invited them both in, and we all spent the whole day together.

*       *       *    

When Abu-Nuwas went to Egypt^[23] to visit al-Khasib he passed through the Syrian city of Homs,^[24] where the poet Ali son of Raghban^[25] lived. Ali’s nickname was “the Devil’s Rooster.” This is the way he tells what happened:

When I heard the news of Abu-Nuwas’s arrival in town, I decided to visit him at his lodgings. So I went to an inn where I had been told that his travel companions had taken rooms. One of my sons, who had just barely reached the age of puberty, went with me. I entered the place and saw a distinguished-looking man sitting on the staircase, picking his teeth.^[26]

“Sir” I asked him, “is this where Abu-Nuwas is staying?”

“It is,” he said.

“Where is his room?”

“What reward would you give me if I told you?”

“Anything you ask for.”

“All right then―a kiss from that young gazelle!”

“No, God forbid!” I exclaimed. “He’s my son! And you, by God, I strongly suspect, are none other than Abu-Nuwas!”

“If it’s true that he’s your son,” he said then, smiling, “Adam, you must admit, has more merit than you in the eyes of God… and yet we still kill and fuck the sons of Adam!”

After this exchange, I quickly had his belongings brought to my house, and we enjoyed the most marvelous conversations during the whole of his stay in Homs, until he finally left the city and continued on his journey.

*       *       *    

Here’s another reminiscence by al-Jammaz:

One day, in my hearing, Abu-Nuwas made a strange declaration:

“I’m seeking for something that I shall never find either in this life or in the next.”

“God help you!” I cried. “Doesn’t Paradise contain everything that the soul can wish for, and all that the eyes can take pleasure in?”

“Yes, it’s just as you say. But I want to find a boy that I can fuck without committing a mortal sin.”

“As God is my witness!” I said. “That’s one desire I think you’ll never succeed in satisfying!”

*       *       *    

This desire of Abu-Nuwas’s reminds the author of this book of a story that one of the most prominent men of our times told him in confidence:

I had a friend in Damascus who belonged to a mystical brotherhood.^[27] It was in the days of al-Malik al-Muazzam^[28] ― may God Almighty preserve his soul! This friend of mine, who led a very chaste life, confessed to me one day:

“My fondest dream? I dream of being led, God willing, to the feet of that formidable Sovereign Whose anger we so fear, of appearing before Him, of being confronted by Him with the executioner’s sword, on the one hand, the sword reserved for capital punishment, and, on the other hand, a beautiful boy with a bottle of wine, and of hearing Him say, and swear to me under the seal of an oath that even He dare not break, that if I did not drink of that wine and did not commit an immoral act with that boy, He would sever my head from my body. In this way I would be able to satisfy my two most burning desires without their being reckoned against me as sins.”

That’s a subterfuge, upon my soul, that even Abu-Nuwas never thought of using!

*       *       *    

But did not Yahya son of Aktham^[29] say:

God on high singled out the fortunate souls in Paradise by designating wildān, instead of girls, to attend and serve them.^[30] Why then did He abandon so quickly this mark of honour conferred only on those who deserve to be seated near Him?

Here is a similar remark:

If amrads didn’t possess a host of desirable qualities, would God―glory be to His Name!―have allowed all His angels and all the native inhabitants of Paradise to be amrads?

And this reflection by another eminent authority:

Praise be to God Who has purified us from the lust for women, without burdening us with the necessity of making an undue show of manliness, Who has not placed us in the tanks of those people that are scandalized by the actions of the members of the Brotherhood and that are nevertheless made fun of by their own neighbours . . . and Who has so industriously created and raised so many wildān throughout the world for our purposes!

It’s a fact, and it’s often stated openly. A boy is a matchless travel companion, an ideal friend in domestic life, the most zealous helpmate at work, and the perfect drinking partner. He is the wellspring of all social life worthy of that name.^[31]

“Lay in supplies of a pleasure that will not be found in Paradise,” advised Abu-Nuwas, obviously referring to sexual relations with amrads. And al-Jammaz said: “A tight amrad for hire is always better than a bottomless swamp^[32] where a man is in danger of losing his way.”

*       *       *    

Abd al-Aziz was rich, according to al-Jahiz.^[33] When the time for obligatory alms-giving^[34] came round, a pimp of his acquaintance would always bring him a boy. And Abd al-Aziz would always question the charming boy as follows:

“My son, do you have any sisters? Do you have any aunts on your mother’s side or your father’s side?”

“Yes, sir,” he would answer.

“Then take these ten dirhams. This is the legal tithe that l am paying on my wealth. Give this money to your sisters and your aunts. Afterwards, if you will allow me, I’ll fuck you for free. You are perfectly at liberty to say no, of course.”

It was a foregone conclusion, naturally, that the boy would consent, for he was always aware that these pennies from heaven, supposedly intended for his sisters and his aunts, would go into no pockets but those of a willing professional boy for hire.

*       *       *    

Al-Suhrawardi^[35] relates the following anecdote:

One day in Qazwin^[36] a brilliant reddish light suffused the sky, accompanied by a howling wind. The inhabitants immediately ran to the places of worship to pray and ask God for mercy. I went into a small chapel which seemed to be deserted, and there I found a man nonchalantly mounted on a boy.

“Woe to you!” I cried. “Get up! The Last Judgment has come!”

He answered me, in really quite ungrammatical language:

“Well, if l get up, is the Last Judgment going to go away again?”

And he remained in the position in which I had discovered him, until he had finished his business.

*       *       *   

Here’s another story of the same tenor:

A muezzin enters a mosque and finds an old man screwing a boy. He shouts furiously at him:

“Enemy of God! Couldn’t you find any place for your filthy act but the house of Almighty God Himself?”

“Is there any place on earth,” retorted the old man, “that doesn’t belong to Almighty God, where I can go and commit this act?”

*       *       *    

Legend has it that during an expedition against the Greeks of Byzantium, a soldier was found mounted on top of a foreigner.

“Shame on you, a combatant in a Holy War, for behaving like that!” another soldier reproved him.

“My behaviour is most laudable,” he rejoined. “What battle is fiercer than the one I’m engaged in?”

*       *       *    

One day Abu-Nuwas was walking through the ruins of a house that had been demolished when he came upon an old man who had just climbed on top of a boy. The graybeard was overcome with shame at being caught in the act.

“You don’t need to blush,” said Abu-Nuwas to him. “I was in this business long before you!”

*       *       *    

In recent times there was a jurist living in Seville, in Andalusia. One day he sent for a boy, who followed him home. He brought the boy into his hallway and fucked him there. Then he went back to his living quarters to get some money. At this moment his son arrived home. Finding the boy in the hallway, he in turn quickly fucked him. The old man, coming back, found his son banging away on top of the boy and cried:

“Son of a whore, I’ve caught you red-handed! Has not God on high Himself said: ‘Marry not that which your fathers have married’?”

“You damned old fool!” rebutted the son. “Don’t you realize that when He said that He was talking only about women?”

*       *       *    

The following story was recorded by al-Akhfash^[37] ― may God have mercy on his soul!

One day Mudrik the poet, accompanied by a boy, walked by where I was standing. I wanted to get a better look at the boy, so l hailed him. His only answer was this quatrain:

If you’re thinking about a threesome,
call some other company;
for the company of one person
is already too much for me!

One day, one of Mudrik’s friends sent him a boy who had a beautiful face, but whose body, in other respects, left a great deal to be desired. Mudrik dispatched the following poem to his friend in reply:

This well-beloved of yours
has indeed a charming face,
but apart from that, I find
in him no other grace.

Your gift’s cheap, Abu-Malik!
I like its outward look,
but the title doesn’t fit
the contents of the book.

*       *       *    

Someone asked Abu-Nuwas one day:

“Why do you give two dirhams to the boy and only one to the eunuch?”

“Because the boy has two hazelnut trees^[38] in the middle of the field where they pasture their sheep.”

*       *       *    

Here’s an adage from al-Abbas son of Rustam: “The boy can perform equally well on top or on the bottom, whereas the woman is limited to the role for which nature destined her: she’s good for only one thing.”

*       *       *    

An adulterer asked a sodomite who was flirting with him and trying to sound him out:

“If a man buys a male and a female slave, which of the two, in your opinion, can he lawfully screw?”

“Both of them equally lawfully, with the proviso that he has to abstain from sexual relations with the woman when she is having her period,^[39] while the boy is not subject to this prohibition ― which is undoubtedly to the latter’s advantage.”

*       *       *    

An old man was caught in the act one day by the roadside, so the story goes, as he was fucking a boyling:

“Aren’t you ashamed, old man,” said one of the people who had caught him out, “to be acting like this at your venerable age, while you’re still in full possession of your wits? Why don’t you find a woman and marry her?”

The old man took a penny out of his mouth and said:

“As God is my witness, this is all the money I have. This boyling was quite willing to take it as payment. Can you find me a woman to marry who will ask for so small a dowry,^[40] so I can satisfy my sexual desires with her, as you suggest I should do?”

His interlocutors didn’t know what to say and went on their way.

*       *       *    

Another old man was caught red-handed with a boy by passers-by one day, and the two of them were brought before the local governor. The old man spoke up in his own defense:

“God save you, o Emir! As for me, I can promise you that I won’t do such a thing again. But isn’t it said that we should never “spare the rod“ if we want to make young people learn something? So I too was helping round out this boyling’s education!”

This excuse made the governor and everybody attending the trial laugh so heartily that the two accused were allowed to go free.

*       *       *    

A friend recounted the following incident to me:

I went to the baths one day, and I saw a handsome boy, who was remarkably slender and graceful. I complimented him:

“The slimmer the reed, the sweeter the pith!”

“Break it and taste it,” he answered.

I took him to the steam room. But no sooner was I comfortably mounted on his back than the sheikh in charge of the place appeared.

“Enemy of God!” he cried out. “Is it not written: ‘Behold how chastely the trees put forth their leaves and bear their fruit, and it is good in the sight of Almighty God’?”

And he added:

“Boy, give him back what you have received!”

The boy returned the money I had given him, and I left the room. A half-hour later, I started to look for him again, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. The sheikh had also disappeared from circulation. So I returned to the steam room, where, lo and behold, I found our sheikh well and truly mounted on top of the boy.

“O sheikh,” I cried. “‘Behold how chastely the trees put forth their leaves and bear their fruit, and it is good in the sight of Almighty God’!”

“Enemy of God!” he responded. “My case is different from yours. You act like the people of Sodom; I’m punishing the wicked, like a man of the Law!”

*       *       *    

One day Moslem the Younger was asked:

“What do the pleasures of life consist in, in your opinion?”

“They consist in feasting on savory dishes, getting drunk on amber wine^[41] and fucking a dark-eyed boy,” he replied.

“And why do you prefer the boy to women?”

“Because a boy is the best of companions in travel, ideal drinking partner amongst the Brothers, and wife in bed.”

*       *       *    

Ibn-Subayba was asked his opinion one day of a particular one for hire.

“All the unmarried men who know him,” he answered, “appreciate him just as much for his inner resources as for his outward appearance.”

*       *       *    

One day a pimp brought one of his young charges, whose beard was just beginning to show, to see a sodomite.

“How much?” inquired the sodomite.

“Last year he used to get one hundred dirhams,” the pimp replied.

“I’m not asking what he charged last year. I want to know what he’s worth this year. It cost ten thousand dirhams hard cash to marry my grandmother when she was young, and when she died they took her to the cemetery for twenty dirhams. It’s the same with him. His beard has sprouted; he’s dead.”

*       *       *    

A sodomite went out to the market with two dirhams in his pocket, to buy some dried fruit for friends who sometimes came to see him. Out on the street, he met a boy, and he couldn’t resist the temptation of making eyeball contact with him. He offered him a dirham, but the latter refused. The sodomite begged him to accept it, pointing out that he had only two dirhams with him, and he’d have only one left now to buy his dried fruit. But the boy continued to refuse, maintaining that he wouldn’t do something special like that for so little money. Finally the sodomite gave in and handed him the two dirhams. They went to the sodomite’s house, but when he finally had the boy where he wanted, and could fuck him as much as he liked, he gave him a a violent punch on the nose instead.

“You’ll kill me! You’ll kill me!” howled his partner.

“Son of a whore,” retorted the sodomite. “If you’d wanted to stay alive, you would have accepted one dirham!”

*       *       *    

Another sodomite was at the baths when he came upon a man screwing a boy. He said hello to the man, but, not getting any answer, he complained in a loud voice:

“Glory be to God! there are people sitting eating, and they don’t even deign to answer when we greet them!”

“My dear chap,” replied the man who was screwing, “if I returned your greeting, it would be an open invitation for you to come and eat with me. But there’s room for only one person at this table. Be a good fellow and show a little patience. When my place is empty, it will be your turn to come and sit there.”

*       *       *    

A personage whose name I shall not mention here tells the following story:

One day I saw a sodomite giving his slave a very severe beating.

“For the love of God!” I exclaimed. “Why are you beating this poor chap so brutally?”

“Mind your own affairs!” said the man. “This slave, this whoreson, doesn’t do his job properly. Last night he put me through hell. He took out his cock, and I was all prepared to enjoy it, but instead I was the one who had to fuck him all night long, while he lay there mercilessly, with his cock stiff and bold as a ramrod!”

*       *       *    

Another sodomite, who was a miser, engaged a boy’s services. But he never carried any money on his person, and he kept nothing of value at his place. He finally decided to offer the boy a worthless tinder-box that he had with him. For lack of anything better, the boy accepted it and offered up his body. When they had finished their business, the boy got up and was about to leave, but the sodomite tried to hold him back.

“For God’s sake! Are you going already?”

“What more do you want? Do you want to make it with me so soon again?”

“No, I want my tinder-box back.”

“You cheapskate trick!” cried the boy. “You bought me for a no-good tinder-box, and now you want to take it back from me. All right, I’ll give you a choice. Let me go peacefully, or I’ll follow you about through the streets shouting, ‘He fucked me in the bum for the price of a tinder-box!’”

The man, they say, let him go without any further ado.

*       *       *    

A sodomite and one for hire brought their case one day to Juvenile Court.

“Your Honour,” the sodomite led off, “I met this young tramp at the baths. I agreed to pay a dirham to use him sexually. I was already mounted on him when the door of the room we were in opened. We had to disengage, and I couldn’t finish my business properly, so I want him to give me back my money.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” the judge asked the boy for hire.

“God strengthen and protect Your Honour!” answered the boy. “I stretched out under him and let him do as he wanted. So I did what I was paid to do.”

The judge is said to have handed down the following decision:

“Men of the law, men of good faith, hear my verdict! If you, boy, were the one who got up when the door opened, you can’t ask for any payment. If the gentleman was the one who got up, however, you don’t have to give him back what he paid you. And if, by chance, you both got up simultaneously, then you can keep half the money you received.”

*       *       *    

Another well-known one of them bought a boy’s services for two dirhams. When he had the boy where he wanted, he prepared as usual to get on top of him, but the boy demurred:

“You can only put it between my legs.”

“Son of a whore!” stormed the man. “I’ve had it between my legs for forty years now, and nobody’s ever offered me two dirhams for that!”

*       *       * 

Legend has it that Abu-Nuwas once saw a beautiful boy at a party and said to him:

“If you didn’t exist, we’d all be good Moslems!”

“You will receive no heavenly favours,” replied the boy just as sententiously, “unless you also generously favour that which you love.”^[42]

*       *       *    

One day someone remarked to a famous sodomite who lived very lavishly:

“With all your money, you could have a teenage slave-girl. You could have sex with her without doing anything against the law.^[43] Wouldn’t that be the best solution for you? Wouldn’t that mean that you’d be committing fewer sins?”

“You fools!” he rebutted. “You’ve forgotten about her period! And you’ve forgotten, above all, how delectable a boy is!”

*       *       *    

There was a gentleman in Sijistan^[44] named Abu’l-Fadl al-Shuruti^[45] who was especially fond of those who had already clearly passed the age of puberty. One day he was seen hovering around a group of boylings, and one of his friends expressed astonishment.

“I’ve been informed,” he responded, “that an epidemic of plague is at present decimating the ranks of boylings. Now I have only one apprehension. I’m afraid they may all die before they reach puberty, and then what I dream of getting from them later on would be lost to me forever!”

*       *       *

Two sodomites had joined forces to hunt their favorite prey. But one of them particularly liked boylings, whereas the other preferred those who were already past puberty. So each of them was constantly calling the other “pervert,” and each harshly criticized the other’s behavior. Things had been going on like this for some time when the lover of little ones was caught in the act and hauled into court before the governor, along with the boyling he’d seduced. He was given a sound whipping and then paraded through the streets of the town, carrying his darling on his shoulders. His friend met him during this march of shame.^[46]

“I warned you to be careful of the things you did,” he pontificated. “I was afraid that something exactly like this would happen to you some day.”

“Shut up!” said his comrade. “You’re a fool! If I’d followed your advice, I’d be carrying the weight of a big lout on my back right now, instead of a boyling, and, in the condition I’m in, my neck would be really broken.”

*       *       *    

This story is contemporary and takes place in Andalusia. There was a very tiny sodomist who was also a hunchback: he had a huge hump on his back. One day he picked up an extraordinarily tall, slender boy. Unfortunately, he was caught flagrante delicto, on top of his new conquest. After a good whipping, he too was condemned to march through the streets of town, carrying his lover on his back. But the size and build of the two culprits, made that simply impossible, so it was finally decided to place the hunchback on the boy’s shoulders for his march of infamy. You can imagine how people hastened to line the route of their promenade, while a herald proclaimed the details of their crime in a loud voice, as was the custom. But the hunchback, sitting on his friend’s shoulders, kept repeating to anyone who was willing to listen to him:

“Look, my friends, don’t get any wrong ideas about me. I’m the one who was on top.” It was as though his greatest fear was that people would think him capable of playing the role of passive partner with this handsome boy.

*       *       *    

Al-Jahiz relates:

One day I asked Abu-Saïd al-Jarini:

“Aren’t you ashamed of fucking ones for hire?”

“As God is my witness!” he answered. “I have never allowed myself to fuck them except when driven by hunger, by extreme hunger. And is it not stated that, in cases of extreme hunger, even the meat of dead animals may be eaten?”^[47]

*       *       *    

Another story from al-Jahiz:

Abu-Saïd saw a handsome boy at the baths and importuned him. The boy turned him down and, in fury, Abu-Saïd struck him. The boy had no recourse but to go, weeping bitterly, and complain to the owner of the establishment and all the other customers. They went to look for Abu-Saïd, who was just at that moment coming out of the back room, searching for the boy. He was completely naked and his cock was standing.

“Why did you strike this boy?” he was asked.

“Because the water he poured on me was too hot.”

“And just why is your cock sticking up?”

“From anger!”

*       *       *    

A man was watching another man who was ogling handsome boys. At that particular moment he was sizing up a boy who looked like a thoroughly professional one for hire. Noticing the first man’s gaze fixed on him, the sodomite attempted to justify his behaviour:

“Please believe me, I have only honourable intentions!”

“How can I believe in your honourable intentions,” retorted the first man, “when I see you ogling someone who has only dishonourable intentions?”

*       *       *    

A man was caught in a compromising situation with a boy in the minaret of a mosque. Both of them had their trousers down.

“What were you doing?” the man was asked.

“I wanted to exchange the cord that holds my trousers up for the one that holds his up,” he replied.

*       *       *    

A man from Khurassan^[48] was asked:

“What way do you fuck boys?”

“As long as they have no body hair, I fuck them on the outside, between the legs. As soon as they have hair on the outside, I fuck them on the inside.”

*       *       *    

One day a boy was visiting Abu-Saïd al-Jarini:

“Abu-Sa’id,” exclaimed the boy, “tell me a story about the good old days and the adventures of bold horsemen like Amir son of Tufayl or Amr son of Madi-Karib!”^[49]

“What!” rejoined Abu-Saïd. “You expect me to tell you about the deeds of warriors on horseback, while I’m still on foot?!”

Saying which, he got up, stretched the boy out on the floor and mounted him. When he was comfortably settled on top of the boy, he added:

“Now you can ask me to tell you any story you like.”

*       *       *    

A sodomite had an old mother. He treated her with the greatest respect and took pains to hide his sexual activities from her. It so happened that he was deeply in love with a boy. He wanted to be able to meet with his lover at home, and one day he thought up a way of doing so. He went to his mother and said:

“Mother, I’ve made the acquaintance of a boy who, incidentally, is a descendant of caliph Ali.^[50] I promptly invited him to come visit me here at home.”

The old lady immediately went to work preparing a meal and all sorts of other delicacies for the illustrious visitor. The time set for the visit arrived. The two went into a room to converse privately. But the mother couldn’t resist the temptation of spying on them, and she discovered her son on top of his beloved.

“What are you doing, enemy of God?” she demanded, bursting in on them.

Without changing his position, her son responded:

“Mother, I’ve just been talking about his family tree with him, and, from all he says, it turns out that he’s actually a descendant of Muawiya!”

“That’s a different matter,” said his mother. “In that case, chastise the bottom of that … that whore’s son as long as you want to!”^[51]

*       *       *    

The tale is told of one of these people who made a pass at a boy and jumped on top of him without even waiting for him to say yes or no.

“Take your cock out right away from that hole where you’ve stuck it,” ordered the boy, “or I’ll lose my self-control, and I don’t take any responsibility for the consequences!”

“I don’t see any way for you to lose your self-control,” rejoined his assailant, “except through this hole of yours. And your hole is tightly plugged up. Nothing can get out of it, not even a fart.” After these words, the boy could do nothing but blush and let nature take its course.

*       *       *    

Al-Jammaz, they say, saw a boy one day and said of him:

“There goes a member of the full-cooking-pot brigade!”

“What do you mean?” asked a friend.

“When you fuck him,” he answered, “the cooking-pot boils over right away, and its contents spill between his thighs. So whoever’s fucking him has to put up with the stinking brew or wipe it away.”

*       *       *    

Legend has it that Abu’l-Aliya brought a man and a boy before the court one day, alleging that he had come upon the former fucking the latter. A crowd of spectators were waiting when the plaintiff and the two accused appeared in the presence of the judge. The judge first addressed Abu’l-Aliya:

“Tell us what you saw.”

 Well,” said Abu’l-Aliya, “first I saw this man lay the boyling down on the ground. I thought to myself: ‘He’s going to let him take a nap.’ Then I saw him lift the boy’s clothing and uncover a certain part of the latter’s anatomy. And I said to myself: ‘He’s going to give him a massage.’  Then I saw him sit on his friend’s back. So I thought: ‘Could he be trying to hatch some eggs that the boy has with him?’ Finally I saw him take out an organ as big as his forearm…”

His testimony was interrupted at this point by the laughter of both judge and spectators. The witness, so the story goes, was not allowed to finish his deposition.

*       *       *    

It is also worth mentioning that some of these people are attracted by those whose beard has already grown. But the majority of these “barbophiles” encounter many difficulties along their path, since their activities are fraught with greater danger. For that reason, they are often known as “short-lived,” and they frequently wind up being murdered. It often happens, in fact, that the man who has made an assignation with them turns out to be a thief or a criminal who specializes in passing himself off as a professional boy for hire. He concentrates on certain groups, like merchants. He will arouse his quarry’s sexual desire and even promise to let himself be fucked. Once he is alone with his victim ― generally in some isolated spot where they can drink together, far from public gaze ― he kills him quite professionally, robs him just as professionally of all his belongings, and flees. There are certainly also lads who serve as decoys, and who act in the following manner. They spend part of the night drinking with the man who has been so rash as to fall for them, and when the man finally falls asleep, they open the door and let in their partners, seasoned thieves who enter the house and do as they please with the money, the possessions and the life of the householder. But such cases are relatively rare. Most of the people who commit such crimes are grown men.

A merchant who is well known and well thought of in his field told me the following story:

One day I picked a smooth-cheeked boy who hadn’t even reached the age of puberty and took him home with me for the night. I was sure that he was completely harmless. But I soon noticed that he was continually looking around the room, especially at the place where the key to the strongbox in which I lock away my money was hanging. He also glanced from time to time at the sword that was mounted on the wall. He himself poured the wine for me to drink and, despite my reluctance, he was prompt to refill my glass every time it was empty. Naturally, I began to suspect him rather strongly of harbouring the darkest intentions, and I resolved to drink as little as possible. I feigned drunkenness and was soon apparently fast asleep. The room where we were was at the front of the house, with a window that faced the street. In the middle of the night, I heard a suspicious whistling, and I was sure that a thief was in the neighborhood. I continued to pretend to be sound asleep, and the boy, slipping quietly from under the blankets, got up, went straight to the window and leaned out. I followed him noiselessly and stood right behind him. The sound of a voice came to my ears, saying:

“Come down and open the door!”

“Wait a minute,” the boy murmured.

He didn’t have time to say more than this. I lifted him by the legs and threw him out the window, head first. Then I leaned out myself. There were six men there, waiting in the street. I addressed them:

“I didn’t think it was worth the trouble for him to go down the staircase. I’ve sent him to join you by a more direct route.”

They hastened to pick up the boy, who was more than a little bruised and battered, and hurriedly carried him off without any more ado.

Innumerable rich merchants ― and members of many other honourable profession ― have ended their lives in this fashion.

*       *       *    

To finish up, let me now relate a rather extraordinary story that was relayed to me by one of the legal advisers attached to the tribunal of Damascus.

In that city there lived a certain well-known jurist, a member of the best society. He had served as a judge in Hama^[52] and then had been dismissed from his post, although he had not committed the slightest fault in the exercise of his profession. He led, moreover, a blameless, completely honourable life. (The person who passed on the story has given me the name of the said jurist, a very prominent person, who left behind, as well, a glorious memory. I prefer not to repeat that name here.)

It so happened that this judge had to go to Aleppo to settle some urgent business ― this was in the reign of al-Malik al-Zahir.^[53] The prince went out to welcome him in person, allotted him a suitable house to live in, and was even thinking for a time, it is said, of naming him chief magistrate of Aleppo. At all events, as luck would have it, one fine day this judge, who had many other servants of all types, bought a Turkish mamaluke^[54] for the tidy sum of six thousand Nassirian^[55] dirhams.

On the day when our story takes place, he went to the baths, accompanied by his usual retinue of servants. A private chamber was immediately reserved for him ― the normal privilege of distinguished guests ― and, since the room didn’t have any door, a length of cloth was stretched over the entranceway to screen it from public view. The judge went to his chamber and dismissed his mamalukes, keeping behind only the young Turk whom he had recently bought. What ensued all happened as God and fate had decreed. He ordered the handsome mamaluke to approach him, took his clothing off, piece by piece, and himself got undressed. By the end of this operation, neither of them was wearing a stitch. The mamaluke began to rub himself down, oiling his head and his whole body with mallow lotion. He had naturally smooth skin, but the lotion increased its smoothness to such an extent that the surface of his body became as elusive as mercury, and as slippery as the marble slabs of the floor itself. At that point, he felt an urgent need to go to the urinal, which was outside. But, since he was completely naked, instead of leaving the chamber, he simply pushed the curtain aside and stuck his head out to see if the coast was clear. All he had to do then was crouch down and discreetly relieve himself in the doorway.^[56] If anyone walked by, he would pretend to be engaged in his ritual ablutions. He was in this crouching position when the judge suddenly caught sight of him. Stricken with admiration at the sight of the firm, bulging mounds of buttocks rising before his gaze, the judge was irresistibly impelled to unsheathe his member and insert it between the cheeks of the mamaluke’s bottom, until his stomach was pressed tight against the Turk’s backside. But, since the marble floor was as slippery as the handsome mamaluke’s skin, he didn’t remain in that position for very long. In a moment he felt his feet slide backward. He tried to regain his balance by grabbing hold of the mamaluke’s shoulders, but, by so doing, he merely propelled the latter forward in a strong, irresistible motion. Unable to stop, the boy slid forward, with his master glued to his back. Crouching over and still stuck tight together, the two of them shot through the curtain like an arrow. Before they could even realize where their trajectory was taking them, they found themselves smack in the middle of the main room, one still on top of the other, with a crowd of eager spectators around them, watching their every move.

The judge didn’t know what to do. If he got up, he would have to disengage his member from the mamaluke’s hindquarters in public, and thus reveal to the whole gathering the nature of their nakedness. If he stayed crouched over to conceal his guilty organ, he would still lose face before everybody. There was no possible way out, so the best thing was to get up. He stood up and pulled out of the young slave in the presence of all the spectators, who watched him carry out that delicate operation. In the bathhouse, at that moment, you would have thought that the trump of the Last Judgment had sounded. People came from everywhere and crowded around in a circle. Having accomplished his feat of disengagement, the judge now had to run for it to his chamber, naked and with his cock shamefully exposed, accompanied by the boy. News of the incident spread like wild fire. Soon there was nobody in Aleppo, big or small, poor devil or potentate, who hadn’t heard the story. As for the judge, he at once lost both official favour and his reputation. It is said that, as a result of this incident, he never received a judicial appointment again for the rest of his life.

*       *       *    

NOW LET US QUOTE some of the most amusing poems that have been composed on these topics. First of all, concerning lads. A poet wrote these lines:

Choose among wildwood deer and stags
only the fawn whose flesh is as soft and melting
as cream fresh drawn.

The doctor always told me:
fucking lads
is the sovereign remedy
for all annoys.

Another author has written in praise of blacks and mulattoes:

I speak to those who are foolish
and delight in putting down blacks.
Why? Because the ignorant crowd
is jealous of what it lacks.

When the night is black, do we blame the night
for hiding the errant lover?
Don’t you know, fools, that the purest musk
is always black in color?

The secret part of the body
is black, but at our touch
bursts into light, and we kneel open-palmed,
desiring it so much!

God on high decreed that blacks
and mulattoes should be
the objects of my attention~
~and desire, till eternity;

If the Abbassids had been able
to think of a better hue
than black for their flags,^[57] they’d have used it
for those emblems that all men view!

Here is a poem by another poet:

A black beauty spot
on a pure cheek
endows it, does it not,
with grace and perfection?

Then what’s the objection,
           Why do we speak
against those with the complexion
of the beauty spot?

Another poet, on the other hand, praises whiteness:

Whiteness is the indispensable
condition for me, I vow,
in those tender bodies that lie face down
like branches torn from the bough!

I can’t feel the slightest passion
for a skin of greasy brown!
But the whiteness of a fragile body
brings my love tumbling down!

And here is a poem of Abu-Tammam^[58] about the down-cheeked:

Gossiping people say:
“He will soon fade away.
Look at his hollow cheeks!”
I answer: “Don’t deny
his beauty. He won’t die;
it’s no defect to be weak.”

Perfection for me
is always the memory
of some love that went before.
And poetry’s the fruit
of a long pursuit
by one who truly wants more.

No doubt  he excites
facile appetites
when his plump cheeks glow
with health and the slender
plumes of his moustache, tender,
are just beginning to grow.

But if anyone should enjoy
degrading my love for him
when someone sends
to inquire and pry
I suggest the reply:
“They’re two friends.”

Here’s another poem by Abu-Tammam:

When, to further his cause, he’d developed
a firm, well-founded bottom,
when, above the pearly gate, the plain
had begun to sprout with grass,^[59]

When, under the most solemn vows,
the rosebush deigned to speak
that the miracle of her flowers
would never leave his cheek,

then I dared to address him,
with my silent eyelids’ aid,
and his answer was exactly
what his eyebrows had said.

This poem is by Abu-Nuwas:

Narcissi now surround the roses
on the cheek
of the one who still opposes
what I seek.

I asked him to surrender to me
even if it’s wrong
to do so. I cried “I’ll have no rest
until you belong

to me.” He answered: “Not so fast!
My beard’s already appearing,
and you like only beardless youths:
I’m long past your caring.”

I answered: “It’s just narcissus flowers
on your cheeks; the roses
of your cheekbones are still in bloom.”
And he still refuses.

No matter. Now, I only care
about older men~
who have reached the age of fifty
or thereabouts, and then

I try to find out by my questions
how many women they love,
and, above all, in conversation,
how many young sons they have.

That’s my interest and pleasure:
counting, determining
how many forbidden love affairs
my future still may bring!

One more poem by Abu-Nuwas:

I drink the cheering wine
with generous friends of mine.

If the cock rises, don’t be
too quick to cry “infamy!”

When the time arrives to screw.
They asked me “Why did you

jump on him just as soon
~as he stretched out and lay down?

Didn’t you see how small
he is?” I said: “Forget all

that idle talk of yours.
In this world of ours

the only coveted treasure
is wine, sex and pleasure!”

And, finally, here’s what another poet wrote:

I inserted my cock expertly
into his secret place;
then his tongue penetrated my mouth
in a long French kiss.

Fair exchange, no robbery;
Neither winner nor loser there:
the powerful and noble-hearted
are always fair.

*       *       *

ONCE UPON A TIME, so the story goes, the devil called all the amrads in the world together, made them all climb up among ladder to an upper room and then quickly removed the ladder, saying to them:

“I won’t put the ladder back unless you agree to sign a pact with me and give me your word that you won’t renege on it. If you don’t, I’ll leave you here to die of hunger and thirst.”

“What kind of pact is it?” they asked.

“You must promise to flee from the people who pay ardent court to you, and to yield to the people who make a show of fleeing from you.”

They agreed and promised to abide by the terms of their compact, and the devil put back the ladder.

The truth of the folk wisdom contained in this fable has been demonstrated many times in daily life—every time, or practically every time, that sodomites try to court amrads. No matter what rare and costly gifts they send them, and no matter how insistently they plead with them, they invariably meet with a blunt refusal. But if they then resolve to desist and turn away from their quarry, they’ll soon find that the amrads will come to them and offer themselves spontaneously, without being asked and at no expense to the suitor.

At this point, dear reader, I’d like to relate a story which will back up what I have just stated. It occurred in my lifetime and was transmitted to me by one of the most illustrious members of the literary circles of Baghdad.

A boy, the son of the governor of Baalbek,^[60] came to Damascus one day in the entourage of al-Malik al-Muazzam^[61]—may God have mercy on his soul. He possessed an ideal beauty, a physical perfection unmatched anywhere at that time. From the moment of his arrival in town, he was noted for his exaggerated concern for decorum and social observances, a concern which he displayed on every possible occasion. He never left his residence except to go to the Friday mosque, mounted on his steed and escorted by a small retinue of slaves. He was always very touchy and extremely reserved, prudish, thin-skinned and irritable. A single glance, even if cast at him by the most respectable judge or jurist, was enough to offend him. No one among the emirs and court officials could so much as greet him without risking a rebuff. The high officials close to the governor intrigued in vain to win his friendship, showering him with money and fancy clothing, but they failed in their designs. Only at the mosque could he be seen, seated in the spot reserved for him, conversing with a certain degree of familiarity with the jurists sitting around him, most of whom were friends of his father.

Now at the same time there lived in Damascus a man who was a notorious sodomist. I met him while I was engaged in compiling this book, and here’s the story as he told it to me…

He had got into the habit, when he went to the mosque, of sitting beside the aforementioned boy, and he never lost an opportunity to regale the venerable jurists assembled there with tales of his latest adventures with the amrads who came to call on him. He always went into great detail and graced his conversation with the expressions he was wont to use in the heat of amorous combat. If he gave the order “Stretch out and double up!” that was an indication that his sexual partner should stretch one leg out and double the other up, so as to make things run more smoothly. When he had finished his business, he would issue the command: “Now kiss this member which has deigned to honour you!” His liveliness and wit were inexhaustible, and, whenever he arrived, the members of his accustomed audience would eagerly bombard him with questions. He would answer with alacrity, gleefully embroidering on the subject according to the whims of his fertile imagination. The boy from Baalbek, who had to listen to all this, never failed to react violently to such provocations. He would insult the brazen narrator, ridicule him openly and even go so far as to pull his beard in public—all of which our sodomist friend, in his heart of hearts, found extremely agreeable, since in that way he was getting part of what he wanted, and the satisfaction he thus received made up, to a certain extent, for the unconsummated act he dreamed of committing.

One fine day, however, as he was leaving his house, the sodomist found himself face to face with the boy, who happened to live in the same neighborhood. The boy was striding along the street, dressed in nothing but a long, light tunic, and carrying in his hand a crossbow. A servant and two mamalukes were with him: he was evidently going out hunting birds. As soon as he caught sight of the teller of all tales, he accosted him and began to poke fun at him. The man tried to escape from the danger which his opponent quite clearly represented, but the boy ran after him and let fly with a projectile from his crossbow to oblige him to stop. The fugitive froze in his tracks, terrified by the young hunter’s menacing appearance and manifest eagerness to pick a fight with him. The boy came up to him and grabbed hold of him so roughly that the poor man’s turban was rudely shaken loose and tangled around his neck.

“And where are you coming from, o perpetrator?” shouted the boy.

“I’m just leaving my home,” replied the raconteur.

But the boy wanted to know exactly what house the man had come out of and made him point it out: it was quite close by.

“And who was there with you?”

“Nobody.”

“Take me there and let me check!”

The man protested violently. Let his enemy come and make a laughing-stock of him in his own house? Not even on Judgment Day! But the boy, naturally, remained unshaken in his resolve, and succeeded in dragging his victim back to the house that he had pointed out. He gave his servants orders to keep watch at the gate, then went inside and marched up to the second floor, finally reaching the bedroom, followed by his terrified host. Once inside the bedroom, he took several bottles of wine and noisily broke them; their precious contents spread out over the floor. Finally, he seized the sodomist by the beard and spat out at him:

“Now you can tell me all the juicy details about what you do with the handsome who cling to you!”

“No!”

The poor anecdotist went on beseeching the boy, by all he held dear, to leave his house. But the boy only laughed at his entreaties and seemed extremely eager to listen to the man’s famous stories. Then, seeing that this misunderstanding might last for a long time, he leaned out the window to speak to his slaves and make sure that they were still mounting guard properly. Then he went back to the middle of the room, where, lo and behold, he stretched out full length on the floor, face down, and shouted:

“Come on! Show me what you do to them!”

When he heard these words, the sodomist feared that his final hour had arrived. He didn’t doubt for a second that his antagonist would kill him if he dared to lay even a finger on him. He made for the door, in an attempt to flee as quickly as possible. But the boy caught him just in the nick of time, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back into the room, taking care to latch the door this time. Now the boy clearly indicated what he was getting at. He slid his hand under his host’s robe, pulled down the man’s baggy Turkish trousers and grabbed his cock, making it go hard with his hand. Then he took off his own garments, lay down on the floor again, and displayed the treasures of his own naked body.

“Do I have to do anything more to help you?” he inquired. “Come on! Show me how you do it! Take me the way you take the others who cling to you! Do everything you do to them—and I mean everything!”

Finally the sodomist got up the nerve to approach him and perform his duty properly. All through the course of the operation, his young partner kept raising his hand from beneath and slapping him smarty, ordering him:

“Say the same dirty words to me that you always say to them!”

And as he was being royally fucked by his preceptor, he made a point of faithfully obeying every command, literally drinking in the man’s words, and going so far as to scold him whenever he got mixed up or forgot his lines. Finally the session was over. Sated at last, the boy willingly sat down and stayed for another hour, chatting and joking with his friend. When he left, he made an appointment with the man for the next time, a date the sodomist was only too willing to keep.

You can imagine how quickly the news got around Damascus. It was like a signal. Everywhere, people laid plans to corrupt the boy even more thoroughly than he’d already been corrupted. All the men who had wanted him but up until then had been paralyzed by fear and respect at last felt able to pluck up courage and—who knows?—get what they were longing for….

*       *       *    

A very similar incident occurred in Baghdad some years ago. There was a boy of mixed Arab-Turkish blood living in that city who outshone all his peers. He frequented the best court circle and was a member of one of the city’s most prominent families. But, above all, there was no one who awakened among his admirers such ardent passions—although none of these admires could boast of having obtained his favours without spending at least two hundred dinars in hard cash.

A poor man who belonged to a mystical Sufi sect had the misfortune of falling in love with him. But, like most such people who have vowed to renounce all earthly pleasures, he was content to enjoy the boy’s beauty and love him platonically. He never missed an opportunity of encountering him. When the handsome boy passed, riding his mount, a single glance at him was enough to breathe back life into the poor man’s soul.

The Sufi earned his living by doing embroidery work. He lived in a simple room, at street level, and he spent most of his time seated in his narrow doorway, always stitching and sewing. One day he was sitting in his usual place, which was deep in a back alley of his remote neighborhood, where passers-by were a novelty, when he saw the beloved boy enter his street, accompanied by a lady of rare beauty and scrupulously modest dress and deportment. The boy, it seems, was madly in love with this girl. She had just left the baths;^[62] he had seen her go in and had waited outside for her. In this way, they had been able to meet each other, but they still had no place to be alone together and converse freely in private. They were obviously embarrassed—all the more so when the boy recognized, sitting on his doorstep, the poor wretch he had so often met as he rode about the city. He felt ashamed, and was on the point of taking leave of the lady when…But let us hear the story from the lips of the unfortunate Sufi, who was drinking the whole scene in with his eyes:

My eyes filled with tears at the sight of their distress. I prostrated myself at the couple’s feet and said to the boy:

“My lord, this room is the lodging-place of your obedient servant. Go inside: no one else is there.” 

For them it was as if my words had suddenly made the earth and all its deserts burst into flower. They went inside and found a clean, tidy room: the floor had just been sprinkled with water. There was no one there, and the humble furnishings would nevertheless be quite sufficient for the purposes of the two of them. You would think someone had prepared it with them specifically in mind. They took occupancy. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was there, in my room, just as if he were in his own home! I went out, closing the door carefully behind me. When I reached the doorstep, I fell into a sort of trance and my mind grew confused. Was it all a dream? Was the boy I had just welcomed in the room not perhaps a phantom without any reality, conjured up by some genie’s whim? Suddenly, I could no longer distinguish fact from fancy. I felt unable to connect the present with what I had witnessed only seconds before. I had to regain my wits and recover from this fit of introspection. I wiped my face, closed my eyes, opened them again and recited the two “Refuge in God” prayers. I bit my finger until drops of blood appeared on it. Finally, I decided to peek through a crack in the door.

Yes, he really was there, sitting in my room. I wasn’t dreaming, I was wide awake, there wasn’t any doubt about it. This realization filled me then with such intense joy that for a moment I blacked out. I soon came to again, but I was so wildly happy that that I immediately burst into tears. I couldn’t control myself any longer. I fainted again. When I regained consciousness, I had only one thought in mind. I knelt down and thanked God on high. I was on my knees and still sobbing. The two lovers must have heard me weeping, for, a moment later, the young woman opened the door to the room and came on me prostrate there, lying face down. I had been weeping so copiously that the earth was damp with my tears.

“What’s the matter, my poor friend?” she cried.

I raised my head, crawled over to her feet and confessed my secret to her:

“My lady! May God and all His angels and His throne-bearers be my witnesses! The nape of my neck is a carpet upon which your feet may tread until the end of the world! For years, in secret, I have been passionately in love with that boy! And up till now I have received nothing from him but the pleasure of feasting my eyes on him whenever I was fortunate enough to see him ride by in the street, mounted on his horse—and even that pleasure I enjoyed only occasionally. I was dying of this suffering! You have restored me to life!”

“Compose yourself,” she said, after hearing me out. “I’ll have some good news for you soon.”

At this point the boy also came out of the room.

“What were you two talking about?” he inquired.

“This poor man is dying of love—of the most passionate love—for you!” she responded.

I saw him bite his lip, obviously annoyed at the open expression of an emotion which he must have comprehended was only too real. At first he chose to pretend that he didn’t believe a word of it. Then he fixed me with a baleful stare:

“I swear to God,” he exclaimed, “if you so much as open your mouth to say a single word about this business, I’ll leave this room and I’ll never come back!”

So I had to stop both sobbing and speaking. The boy returned to the room, and I hurried off to buy some fruit, as well as a few light delicacies and snacks that I was able to find—and of course wine, which is de rigueur on such occasions. I spent all the money that a man of my limited means could afford. I came back, set the food before the loving couple and went out immediately, closing the door between the room and my little porch. I sat down on the doorstep again and continued my embroidery work. I really didn’t know any longer if I was on earth or in heaven.

A moment later, I heard the sound of a spirited argument between the two of them. The woman seemed to be rejecting him. Her protestations grew ever more vehement as she quite peremptorily ordered him not to lay hands on her. I was rather frightened and wondered what on earth was going on between them. Eager to find out more, I got up and discreetly put my ear to the door. I found out that I was the subject under discussion.

“That poor, unhappy man!” she was saying to him. “He’s been madly in love with you for years and years. And all he’s been able to do is look at you, whenever he was lucky enough to meet up with you in the street….If it hadn’t been for him, we’d never have been able to meet here, and you’d never have been able to do more than exchange a few words with me in public at most—nothing more, and perhaps not even that much. And, after all, as far as that goes, have you ever been particularly reluctant to do that sort of thing? Didn’t Emir So-and-So shower you with fancy clothes and gold dinars and horses? And when he did, you were quite willing to make an assignation with him, to the best of my knowledge…”

And then she began to enumerate all the dignitaries of the country who had succeeded in buying the boy’s favors.

“You snub that poor man simply because he happens to be poor. If that’s not the reason, since you’ve already done this thing with so many other men, why would you be reluctant to do it with him? Listen to me! Do it for me, at least…out of respect for my intercession…in return for this modesty and this reputation that I’ve given up for you. What’s more valuable to you—my love, or the gifts you’re accustomed to getting from that kind of person?

But to all the woman’s pleas his invariable answer was:

“No! As God is my witness! I’ll never do that! Never!”

Then she got up, took her cloak and made as if to put on the boots she had taken off. But when she realized that he was quite prepared to let her go even if that meant that he’d have to wait patiently until their next date, she returned to the attack. She flung her arms around his neck again and tried to soothe him and calm him down with sweet words and such provocative movements and gestures that you would never have believed that a woman was capable of thinking them all up. In this way she quickly succeeded in appeasing the boy’s wrath, but at the same time she had rekindled his desire for her. He kept putting his hand out to touch her again, but she brushed him off determinedly and returned each time to the subject of their previous argument. If he remained stubborn and refused to listen to reason, she would get up, to show him that she was ready to leave the room right away

She kept on with this line of behavior until he finally said the words she wanted to hear:

“Call that fellow in.”

She immediately went out to me and said:

“Go in! And receive your heart’s desire from him!”

Then she left us alone, closing the door behind her as she went out. The boy was clearly anxious to keep his distance with me. He warned me:

“God damn you! Massage my feet and be satisfied with doing that. Don’t ask for anything beyond that, or you’ll lose me forever.”

“I swear to you most solemnly before the Lord on high,” she cried, “and I accept all the consequences of this holy oath, that, if you don’t obtain the full satisfaction of your desires from this boy immediately, he and I shall never meet again under the same roof, even if the whole world rises up against me!”

She was speaking with the utmost seriousness, and he finally realized that she would be adamant in her decision. So he agreed to let me have my way with him. I went into the room, and he greeted me with these words:

“Come and take what God has given you!” 

I took what had been given to me, beyond all my hopes. After that, the young woman came and joined us, and he also had his will with her, completely. When that night drew to a close, and they were about to say goodbye to each other, she spoke to me and urged me to make another appointment to see her lover soon. She had realised the state I was in and she insisted:

“You weren’t yourself today. You were thunderstruck, a complete prey to anxiety…”

As for the boy, he could no longer disobey such a woman’s instructions. So we agreed to meet again.

“We’ll be at your place twice a month,” she added, “each time I go to the baths.”

So I continued to watch over their meetings twice a month, and I enjoyed in anticipation the happiness of those visits of theirs at least twice a day. And that happiness lasted for three long years, while in the circles of the rich and famous, in the whole city of Baghdad, everyone was permanently consumed with anguish and impatience, longing to obtain even the slightest sign of that boy’s favor.

*       *       *    

And from their sayings: “A sodomist is very lucky if he has the reputation of being a woman in bed!” The reason for this is obvious. A man with such a reputation doesn’t scare off boys—and in the final analysis, he gets everything he wants from them.

The following tale is a good illustration of this maxim.

One day a man wooed a boy who had absolutely perfect features. Then he feigned coyness, deliberately giving the impression that he was a molly. So the boy decided that it would be quite safe to go home with him. But when he was finally alone together with his host, he asked the man what he wanted to do. The man then leveled with him and explained that he had enticed him there with the sole aim of fucking him. The boy turned him down and got up right away to go. As he passed through the hallway, he saw a cloak lying there and unobtrusively picked it up. When the owner of the house returned, after accompanying his guest to the door, he looked for the cloak, but couldn’t find it. So he went to the boy’s home and knocked at the door. The boy himself came to answer.

“Son,” said the man, “you came to my house like a chicken ready for plucking, and you left—thanks be to God!—like a fine, unbroken young stallion. In the same way, you came home with me thinking that I was a molly, and in the end you saw me also changed into a fine stud horse—glory be to God! So we’re even—except for the little matter of that cloak. Can you explain to me in exchange for exactly what service you took it from me?”

And he kept on reasoning like this with the boy until he received an apology—and got back his cloak.

*       *       *    

And some of them deceive in order to get what they want from boys. After they’ve lured them to their homes, they immediately lie down on the floor and uncover their buttocks. As soon as the handsome object of their desire has taken off his Turkish trousers and mounts on their thighs, they firmly seize hold of his private parts, forcing him thus to obey their orders without struggling or resisting. Then they turn over, fall on top of their victim and do what they had in mind. They don’t let go of the boy’s genitals until they’re finished; they don’t even give the sufferer a chance to utter a word of protest.

*       *       *    

A rather bizarre incident—at all events, the oddest which anyone has ever seen fit to relate to me—took place in more or less the above circumstances. It was a native of Alexandria who told me the story.

A friend of his was totally infatuated with a boy who belonged to one of the most respectable families in the city. For several years, this man had been pining for the boy, and the boy had repaid him only with insults, snubs and threats. Finally he decided to turn for help to an individual who was said to be a molly, and who agreed to act as a go-between. This fellow began by insinuating to the handsome boy that he was longing to be fucked. When the boy realized what was being proposed to him, he was at first struck mute with astonishment and couldn’t say a single word. But the so-called molly repeated his suggestion, going into intimate descriptive detail. Finally, by dint of insistent repetitions, the boy grew more approachable and even accepted in principle the idea of making a rendez-vous with the molly. But he kept putting it off from one day to the next. They had agreed to meet at the Dunes, an isolated spot outside town, by the seaside, with several caves, lost in an immense expanse of sand. It was a favorite recreation area for the young men of Alexandria.

Finally one day they decided to go on their outing. The man who had hired the molly’s services and who was madly in love with the handsome boy was informed by his partner of this development and made the necessary preparation. He bought food for the picnic they were going to have there, and even got drinking water, because there wasn’t any to be found on the spot. Then he set out for the Dunes, ready for whatever might happen. Here is the story just as he later narrated it to the person who told me:

The molly had given me a description of the location of the cave where he and the boy were going to be alone together.

“Come and meet me there,” he had added. “I’ll have everything arranged by that time, and the lovely boy will be all yours.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

So the molly and the boy left town, and I followed them at a distance. Finally I saw them go into the cave, and I waited not far from the entrance. I didn’t have long to wait. Shortly thereafter, my accomplice came out of his hiding-place, looking very uneasy.

“Go in and do whatever you want to with the boy, before he comes to,” he said.

Then he ran away as quickly as he could. I didn’t understand what he meant. I entered the cave and found the boy lying there, with the lower half of his body bare, but apparently without a breath of life left in him. I bent over him. He was dead, beyond the shadow of a doubt. All my strength suddenly left me. What was I to do? I took stock of my situation. I had been sitting at the mouth of the cave only a short time before, and anyone could perfectly well have noticed me there and seen me go into the cave after the boy. If his lifeless body were found, it would be my life for his!

Yet I still couldn’t understand what had killed him. What had gone on between him and that sinister individual who had run away so quickly? Then I came to a rapid decision. I took off my clothing and began to dig a deep hole in the sand. Then I went over to the boy, removed the rest of his clothes, and lowered him into his newly dug grave. Next, I threw the water container I had with me into the same hole. In so doing, I accidentally splashed his face with water. But I hardly had time to notice that I had done so, when another sight filled me with horror. The dead boy had moved…. He was sitting up. In a minute, he was on his feet. I passed out and lost all consciousness of where I was and what I had just done.

Meanwhile, the boy, after many attempts, had succeeded in climbing out of his pit. He came over to me, lifted my head and spoke very gently to me. He continued to address me in a kind and tender fashion, and this therapy soon revived me.

“How did you ever find me in this place?” he asked me then. “Who laid me in that grave?”

I told him the whole story, without concealing anything. Then I asked him what had happened to him.

“When we got to the cave,” the boy began, “we had a light lunch first. Then, without more ado, my guide took off his baggy trousers and stretched out on the ground. I took my pants off too and climbed on top of him, ready to fuck him. Then I felt his hand slip between my thighs. He roughly grabbed hold of me cock and balls and squeezed them tight with one hand. With the other hand he hit them a tremendous blow. That’s all I know. The pain was so terrible I thought my soul was leaving my body. I blacked out completely, and I didn’t come to until I felt cold water running over my face. So I owe my return from the dead to you. Don’t worry at all on that score. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

They went back to town, determined to seek out the person who had used such brutal methods of “persuasion,” but they couldn’t lay their hands on him. The man had left Alexandria. It was four years, so the story goes, before he set foot in that city again.

*       *       *    

One of the most successful tricks employed by men who are looking for boys is the use of women, who make excellent bait. It’s well known that, at the approach of puberty^[63], a boy simply can’t control his desire for women. If a boy’s legal guardian doesn’t have the financial means to buy him a wife or a concubine^[64] at this juncture, he will inevitably fall into the sin of adultery, however little he may be temperamentally inclined toward women. And if his father is so ignorant and naïve as to imagine that chastity is natural for a boy, or so miserly as to take advantage of excuses for delaying the wedding date, in order to avoid expenses, his son naturally runs the risk of being made a fool of by the first woman he meets or of falling under the control of a pimp, in whose hands he’ll be like putty.

A sodomist in North Africa fell in love with an amrad. He courted him assiduously, but got nothing but insults, invective, intimidating words and even threats in return. He was a bold, manly boy, whose spirit genuinely revolted at doing what his admirer wanted of him. Tired of being offended and humiliated, the man sought relief by going to his sister and telling her his tale of woe. She was an extremely beautiful woman, whose reputation for modesty and virtue was unimpeachable. He related the whole situation to her, and affirmed that he was dying of love. But all he wanted, he said, was to spend a while in the boy’s company. He promised he would not commit any immoral act with him. If he didn’t receive this simple satisfaction, he said, he would surely die. His sister promised to do everything in her power to satisfy his desire.

She dressed carefully and, accompanied by an old woman, set out to seduce the handsome boy with her charms. The boy completely lost his heart and head to her when he saw her. He agreed to a liaison with her, and they made a date to meet. She went and informed her brother, taking good care to specify exactly where they had arranged their meeting. That was all the brother had been waiting for. He immediately went out and hired a band of some fifteen nefarious criminals, known all over town—hairy brutes, strong-armed goons, blacks who traveled around with performing monkeys—and on the appointed day, without his sister’s knowledge, he let them into the house where the interview was supposed to take place.

That day, the sister, still accompanied by the old lady, went to pick up the boy and brought him to the house where the others were waiting. Then she pretended she had an urgent errand to run and went out, leaving the boy alone. That was the moment her brother had been anticipating. He and his whole gang burst from their hiding-places. They all fell on the boy and raped him one after the other in the most horrible manner. News of the incident soon spread around town, and as a result of it the boy got a bad reputation that followed him all the rest of his life.

We are well aware that many boys—so many that it would be impossible to name them all — experience only pleasure and happiness in the love affairs they have with women. We have chosen to repeat this terrible tale here above all in order to warn those boys who are, for one reason or another, generally unable to satisfy their sexual appetites, of some of the traps that may be set for them to fall into. They should likewise beware of men who pretend in their presence to be mollies but who really want only to screw them, as in the examples we have just given.

*       *       *    

Everyone has heard of the city of Tunis, in North Africa. The city has eight gates. Not so long ago, there lived in Tunis eight old tricksters. These weren’t youngish or middle-aged old men, but genuine white-bearded patriarchs. Each of them had reserved one of the city gates as his special “preserve.” They’d get up very early and at the crack of dawn each of them would leave his house and go station himself near the gate that marked his territory. He’d walk a short distance along the highway; then he’d sit down by the roadside and relax, while watching the crowds of people walking and riding at that hour toward the big city, coming from all quarters, from near and from far. As soon as he noticed a good-looking boy—there almost always was at least one—our observer would gaze fixedly at him, as if he knew him or as if the boy’s features reminded him of someone. Then he’d come up and ask what region he came from and what family he belonged to. When the boy had informed him, he’d inquire:

“Do you have a father…or a brother?”

If he was answered in the affirmative, he’d exclaim:

“I knew it! Blood will tell! You know, when I first set eyes on you I was struck by the resemblance!”

If he wanted to call up the memory of the boy’s brother, he would affirm:

“He’s like a son to me. I was the one who brought him up.”

If he spoke of the father, he’d assert:

“He’s like a brother to me! He’s my best and dearest friend in the whole world!”

He’d probably never even met the man he mentioned so familiarly. At best he might have caught a passing glimpse of him sometime, in an accidental encounter on the street or in the market square. But all he needed to do was describe a single one of the father’s or the brother’s physical features for the boy to place an immediate trust in him. Then he’d ask what business had brought the boy to town. If the visitor was a merchant, the graybeard would take him to the best hostelry in town and would recommend him to the proprietor. If he had fabrics to sell, the old man would go to the trouble of finding porters for him at a reasonable wage to help him in unloading. Then he’d accompany him to visit the chief customs agent, who would turn out to be one of his personal friends and would always treat the newcomer favourably—especially if the venerable old man introduced him as the son of a relative, that is, as a friend. He’d even seek out the best brokers and tell them:

“This is a splendid shipment of cloth. I absolutely insist that you try to get the best possible price for the owner.”

One of the agents would then hold a banquet for the boy. Another of them would organize another feast for him, and all the other agents would successively do the same thing. The boy would never fail to bless his luck in meeting that providential old man on the road, an acquaintance who had proved so useful to him and had allowed him to form friendly relationships with so many people. Other people of note as well would invite him to lavish parties. What the boy didn’t know was that all these “hosts” of his were in cahoots with one another and that the cost of all these sumptuous repasts was being deducted from the value of their guest’s merchandise. If the boy decided to stay and dine at the hotel where he was lodged, the old chap would infallibly appear and invite him to a meal there, giving him to understand that he was paying for everything, whereas actually the bill was once more being charged to the guest’s account. Then he would shower the boy with advice about the sales and purchases he had to make on the open market. He’d introduce him to men of experience and integrity, and to the judicial assessors, and recommend him to them. And he would warn him repeatedly against the sharp practices of insolvent businessmen, professional cheats and tradesmen who made a habit of always putting off paying their debts. He would take charge of all the boy’s business affairs and warn him so scrupulously against any arrangement that might have damaged his interests that the boy would end up firmly convinced that God in His infinite mercy had provided for their meeting—and not that it was a curse sent by the devil himself instead, which the poor mark couldn’t even have imagined. As a result of all this charade, the victim could only adopt the unwavering resolve not to do anything which such a zealous guardian would not wish. As soon as he was fixed in this frame of mind, the old man would invite him to his home to share his ordinary frugal fare, nothing more. And he’d finally take advantage of this opportunity to hold hands with the boy. The boy, naturally, could hardly refuse this type of seduction. He couldn’t ask the old man for anything in return. On the contrary, he was already deeply indebted to him. And the old man, for his part, would be careful not to offer the boy anything. But from this point on, he would enjoy the charms of that imprudent boy on every possible occasion—that is until the boy finally decided to leave town.

And if by any chance the boy whom he approached at the start turned out not to be a merchant, then the old man’s game would be even easier to play. All he had to do was take the boy by the arm and bring him home with him.

These eight old tricksters, moreover, had established a code of rules for all their activities. One of these rules stipulated that it was absolutely forbidden to spend even so much as a single dirham on whatever amrad any one of them had resolved to seduce, or even to buy any extra food or drink to supplement the simple meal they would prepare for him at home if they invited him there—unless it was something that the guest himself was paying for. It was also taken for granted that they should avail themselves of every opportunity to take advantage of their prey and of his confidence in them: by taking a rake-off on the exorbitant profit the broker was making on the sale of the fabric; by causing an artificial drop in the market price of the goods at the very moment when the final sale price was being agreed on; by making deals with shop-owners to retail at an extortionate figure, right under the wholesaler’s nose, what they’d just bought from him for next to nothing—and then splitting the profit with these dishonest tradesmen. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t stoop to doing if they could get away with it. That way, if by some mischance they couldn’t obtain the sexual favours they hoped for from their cullies, they were sure at least not to have lost anything financially in the transaction.

Another one of their rules was that none of them had the right to interfere in any of his colleagues’ affairs, either in their schemes for seduction or in their attempts to profit from their victims’ business undertakings. They carried their cooperation even further. As soon as a promising young quarry arrived at the home of any member of the group, the others would all turn up. Each of them would be most careful to bring along only the minimum required amount of food and drink. Each would sparingly measure out his little supply of dried fruit and would drink only from the glass that he had taken care to bring with him. They would eat and drink exactly the same simple fare as they ordinarily did at home, neither more nor less. And they would all take advantage of the gathering to indulge in turn in reminiscences of the unfortunate boy’s brother or father…

“I recall So-and-So perfectly,” one of them would lead off. “In fact, we spent the whole night together with him. This and that happened to him…”

And the others would all nod agreement, as if the man referred to were actually one of their close friends. The boy, at the outset, would have no way of suspecting that that assemblage of graybeards could possibly be what it really was—a pack of lies, a carefully orchestrated campaign of distortions and falsehoods.

The dinner parties that these estimable scoundrels held now and then for the whole group were also real orgies of miserliness, I’m told. On these occasions, too, the food and drink were meticulously meted out, and even the smallest morsel of dried fruit was measured. If they had all decided to drink from the same glass, and to pass it around from one to another, it was always one that had been precisely calibrated and marked, and each of them took pains not to drink below the level that had been inflexibly set, as well as to observe equally punctiliously the proper order of precedence in passing the wine-cup around. It was the same with the dried fruit—no one took more than his allotted share. And so on with the cuts of meat, the roast fowl and other savoury dishes which one of them, chosen by lot, was in charge of scrounging up here and there on behalf of the others. They were generous with only one thing—the provisions bought at the expense of their victim—and these latter they were especially greedy for. In fact, as a matter of principle, they never relaxed this attitude toward one another, except at the expense of the boy that luck brought their way. These boys in their hands were like wild game in a den of lions. Whoever felt like it could take a bite, and whoever took the trouble to stretch out his hand could pillage and plunder to the full.

*       *       *    

In the same city there was another group of sodomites nicknamed “the comb men.” This is how they operated. Each of them had a pack of those cheap combs that cost twenty for just one dirham, and they kept these combs carefully concealed in one of the typically shaped baskets that are so popular in that region. They also bought a large quantity of a kind of fine-grained earth that people use for washing in the public baths, a kind called “North African powder.” (It looks so much like the famous “Andalusian powder” that it could be mistaken for it, and it’s used for the same purpose, but a whole donkey-load of it costs at the most half a dirham.) Then, at nightfall, they would go out on the prowl, walking the streets, on the lookout for boys for hire. If a boy was willing to go with one of them, the man would take him to his house, and would tell him to make himself at home, but he would never offer him the slightest thing to eat or drink. At such a late hour, the host could assume that the boy would in all probability already have eaten. But, to make assurance doubly sure, there wouldn’t be even a crust of bread to gnaw on in the whole place. The host would of course make a great show of excusing himself to his guest. It was late, he would say, long past the hour for drinking or eating, or even throwing together some kind of snack. Nevertheless, he would enjoy the boy’s charms all night long, promising him that in the morning he’d treat him to a bountiful breakfast, to make up for the night before.

But as soon as the muezzin’s call to early-morning prayer echoed, he’d jump up and explain to his one-night stand that he made it a point of always getting up at dawn.

“I never miss saying my morning prayers,” he would add. “Let’s go to the baths right now. We’ll spend the day there, and when we come back this evening, we’ll really have a feast!”      

Then he’d hand the boy a comb and a little bag of “North African powder” and tell him:

“Go on ahead to such-and-such a bathhouse. As soon as I’ve finished saying my prayers and getting dressed, I’ll join you there.”

The boy would proceed to the bathhouse the fellow had mentioned, but he’d never see that man who had made him so many promises again. Besides that, unfortunately, he’d have to pay for the price of his bath. And sometimes he’d have to leave behind some article of clothing as security.

*       *       *

LET ME TRANSCRIBE a document here. It a genuine certificate dispatched once by the Supreme Judge of the underworld community, delegating authority to his representative in Alexandria, the so-called al-Wahirani, “the Impressive One”—may God vouchsafe not to punish him too severely for his sins! This document is full of witticisms that bear on the main theme of this chapter, and it seemed to me that it would form a fitting conclusion to it.^[65]

Praise be to God,

     Who grants a stay of execution to all those who are guilty and promises forgiveness to every mortal. Has He not stated: “My mercy is sufficiently vast to encompass all things?”
     Yes, I praise God,
     as the parched earth thanks heaven for the rain it receives,
     as the thirsting lover gives grateful thanks when a little happiness finally comes his way.
     I testify first and foremost that there is no God but God, and that God cannot have any coequal.^[66] May this my testimony permit me to meet with many handsome wildān along my path in life, and to awaken some day in Paradise surrounded by amrads!
    I testify as well that Muhammad is indeed the servant and the Messenger of God and, faithful to his promise, continues to intercede for all guilty members of his Community. God save him, his family and his Disciples!

The letter continues with two paragraphs about the author of the letter, then another two about the judge to whom it is addressed, but none of this is specifically to do with Greek love as opposed to illicit sex in general, and Greek love is only alluded to in a commendation of the judge as “the igniter of sodomites.” The letter’s instructions then begin with two satirical paragraphs follow guarding against excessive religious zeal and advocating tolerance of those who indulge in wine.

     I also direct you to watch over wildān of very tender age. If you are informed that one of them shows uncertain tendencies or is not well developed, and if he himself is unwilling to see and understand such matters, treat him kindly and warn him against the sin of disobedience. Tickle his cock first with the tip of your little finger, then use your ring finger, then the whole hand. And if his cock little by little begins in this way to rise and rear its head proudly, insert a small pebble to keep the head uncovered and turn him over to a eunuch to complete his education.
     I order you particularly to encourage meetings between lads and men who are ardent birds of prey. You must above all accustom the lads to offer themselves willingly to men of good social condition—and forbid them especially to take advantage of such situations by indulging in vulgar arguments and discussions concerning their remuneration. They must display understanding. Point out to them that they belong to a privileged and well-equipped elite and that they cannot fail to be the equals some day of the richest men of affairs, because a willing response to a request is the natural tendency of all commerce, the cardinal rule of all sovereigns and the pledge and point of honour of all noble and important personages.
     I command you also to keep an eye on the activities of loafers and those who cling unworthily. If any of them try to cheat by plucking their legs or shaving their cheeks secretly with a piece of glass, warn all lovers about them, denounce their actions to the sinners, and have their names put on the roll of impostors.

There follow three paragraphs of admonition have nothing necessarily at all to do with Greek love.

 

^[1] Mawarid Abu-Hatim al-Sijistani (died 869) was a grammarian and religious scholar.

^[2] Al-Mubarrad (ca. 826-ca. 898) was a famous ninth-century grammarian who lived in his native Basrah until 860.

^[3] A renowned teacher of law at Baghdad. He died in 918 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[4] For an attempted explanation of the complex, multiple Arab system of nomenclature, see pages 28-50 of Lacey’s introduction to his translation.

^[5] Vizier (prime minister) at Baghdad, 915-916 and 926-928 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[6] In this instance, “boys” is implied by hints in the Arabic rather a word for boys being used.

^[7] According to Koranic Law, accusations of adultery or other “immoral” acts can be corroborated or refuted only by the testimony under oath of two eye-witnesses. [Note by Lacey]

^[8] In very general terms, the Muslim equivalent of a clergyman. [Note by Lacey]

^[9] The Arabic implies a boy of five shibr (length of hand spans) in height, or roughly 135 to 140 cm., which suits “barely past his fifteenth year”, ie. barely past fourteen.

^[10] In all Arabic erotic poetry of this sort, boys and boy-love are symbolized by the terms “plain(s),” “prairie(s), “field(s),” “earth,” “land,” “ground,” etc. Women and heterosexual relations are considered the watery element, and are referred to as the “sea,” “wave,” “marsh,” “well” (the female vagina), “water,” etc. [Note by Lacey]

^[11] In Arab erotic poetry, the gazelle represents a young boy or girl, more frequently the former. The sex is usually made clear by the use of the adjective “mule” or “female.” The existence of so much gender-switching in such poetry (see note 17, page 157) makes the real sex more complicated. “Fish” as “women” will be understood in view of note 8 above. [Note by Lacey]

^[12] This is a Koranic reference, concerning the matter of male and female inheritance from parents. [Note by Lacey]

^[13] In the Koran, the blessed were provided with beautiful boys to serve them.

^[14] A theologian, philologist and jurist, born in Herat, Afghanistan, 770-833 A.D. The other figures mentioned are doubtless other Koranic scholars and exegetes. [Note by Lacey]

^[15] These are typical Arab women’s names. [Note by Lacey]

^[16] Abbassid caliph at Baghdad from 754 to 775 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[17] Personal information about this poet, the lover and teacher of Abu-Nuwas, is entirely lacking. Almost none of his poetry is extant. [Note by Lacey]

^[18] Abbassid caliph at Baghdad from 775 to 785 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[19] A poet of Basta; died 869 AD. There is some doubt as to whether his name was Hassan or Hussayn. [Note by Lacey]

^[20] “Abu-Ali” was one of the kunya, or nicknames, of Abu-Nuwas, which is itself a nickname (meaning “curly,” referring to his long, curly hair). [Note by Lacey]

^[21] This, in many variants, is a typical Arab insult, always with reference to the father or mother of the person insulted. [Note by Lacey]

^[22] A poet and storyteller, who frequented the court of the Abbassid caliph al-Mutawakkil at Baghdad. He died in 868 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[23] This was probably during the period (805?-809?) of Abu-Nuwas’s voluntary exile in Egypt, a result of his friendship with the Barmakid family of viziers, who were overthrown and destroyed by caliph Harun al-Rashid in 803 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[24] A city in central Syria, on the Orontes River. [Note by Lacey]

^[25] Poet, 777-849 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[26] Using a miswak (a twig used for cleaning teeth) was a mark of cleanliness encouraged by the Prophet Mohammed.

^[27] These are Sufis. [Note by Lacey]

^[28] Saladin’s nephew, local Ayyubid ruler at Damascus. Died 1227 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[29] Died 856 AD. A judge at Basra and Baghdad. [Note by Lacey]

^[30] As previously mentioned, the Koran promised the Blessed that in paradise they would be served by beautiful and eternally young boys termed wildān (a word otherwise meaning either “little boys” aged about 4 to 12 or sons). Whether or not they were allowed to pedicate them (other pleasures such as wine, forbidden in this life, being permitted there) has been the subject of long debate among theological scholars and forms a fascinating chapter of Khaled El-Rouayheb’s Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500-1800, Chicago University Press, 2005.

^[31] A more succinct and faithful reformulation of the attitudes of classical Greek society toward boys and boy-love could scarcely be found than the sentiments expressed in this paragraph. The great influence of Greek literature, ideas and customs on medieval Muslim society is here clearly demonstrated. [Note by Lacey]

^[32] The “swamp,” like “water,” “sea” and “well,” is a metaphor for women, the female sexual organs, and sexual relations with women. [Note by Lacey]

^[33] Famous black Arab writer and polymath, born in Basra, Iraq, of Ethiopian descent, 776-868 A.D. His wide-ranging, didactic yet entertaining writings on theology, zoology, and matters of anthropological and sociological interest are a mine of information on the life of the ninth-century Arab world. [Note by Lacey]

^[34] The zaka, or tithe paid on wealth, usually given in the month of Ramadan, is a Koranic obligation and the third of the Five Pillars of Islam. [Note by Lacey]

^[35] A great Iranian mystic. 1097-1168 A.D. Salacious poems and anecdotes of this sort are ascribed to many great Sufi mystics and to many otherwise respectable and sober literary figures of the whole Muslim world, a fact which shows that the curious sexual and religious dualism noticeable in the attitudes of the author of this book was a more generalized phenomenon. [Note by Lacey]

^[36] A city in northern Iran, near Tehran, south of the Elburz Mountains. [Note by Lacey]

^[37] An Arab grammarian, the teacher of Abu-Hatim al-Sijistani mentioned earlier. [Note by Lacey]

^[38] i.e., testicles. [Note by Lacey]

^[39] Koranic law, like the Mosaic law from which it in part derives, forbids sexual intercourse with women during their menstrual period. This is the reason for the repeated emphasis on the advantage of young boys over women in not having a menstrual period. See some of the poems above. [Note by Lacey, adapted]

^[40] The dowry, or bride-price, is provided by the man, not the woman, in Arab countries. [Note by Lacey]

^[41] The normal alcoholic beverages among the Arabs at this time, nabidh (more lightly fermented) and khamr (stronger), were prepared from grapes, raisins or dates ― hence the tawny color. [Note by Lacey]

^[42] Abu-Nuwas’s speech is from the Koran, Sura 34, verse 31: “Had it not been for you [unbelievers], verily we had been true believers.” The boy’s reply is from the Koran, Sura 3, verse 92: “Ye will never attain unto righteousness, until ye give in alms of that which ye love.”

^[43] Sexual relations with slave-girls and concubines are permitted and not considered adulterous, under Islamic law. [Note by Lacey]

^[44] The former province of Sijistan or Sistan covered a large part of eastern Iran and southwestern Afghanistan. It lay north of Baluchistan and south of Khorassan. [Note by Lacey]

^[45] An early tenth-century historian. [Note by Lacey]

^[46] An early Islamic custom. [Note by Lacey]

^[47] Muslim law forbids the consumption of the meat of an animal not killed according to certain Koranic rules, but this prohibition is lifted in cases of necessity ― for example, during a famine. [Note by Lacey]

^[48] The former province of Khurassan or Khorassan (there are several variant spellings) covered part of northeastern Iran, western Afghanistan and Russian Turkmenistan; it corresponded roughly to ancient Parthia. It lay to the north of Sistan or Sijistan. [Note by Lacey]

^[49] These two were Bedouin tribal poet-warriors of the very early days of Islam. [Note by Lacey]

^[50] Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet, was the last of the four early or “patriarchal” caliphs who ruled the Moslem world after his death of Muhammad, reigning from AD 656 until his murder in 661.

^[51] This anecdote mocks Arabs’ strong penchant for genealogical pretensions as well as Shiite veneration for Ali and detestation of Muawiya, whose rebellion against and defeat of Ali initiated the split between the Shiites, who revered Ali and his descendants as the only true successors of Mohammed, and the Sunnites, who accepted Muawiya as the first of the (Omayyad) caliphs.

^[52] A city in central Syria, north of Homs, on the Orontes River. [Note by Lacey]

^[53] Al-Malik az-Zahir Ghazi, son of Saladin, was emir of Aleppo from 1186 until his death in 1216.

^[54] Mamaluke مملوك (better transliterated mamlūk) in this context means “slave boy”, as Lacey indeed translates it. More generally though, he was one of those multitude of foreign boys from different ethnicities whom the early Arab conquerers used to take as a prize of war, to groom them as future loyal soldiers. As such, they sometimes eventually gathered enough power to turn against their old masters, even leading to the creation of a powerful state of their own, called in their name, the Islamic sultanate of al-Mamālīk.

^[55] These would be dirhams minted in the reign of caliph al-Nassnir, the thirty-fourth Abbassid caliph, 1180-1225 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[56] Because of a Koranic injunction, Muslim men customarily urinate in a crouching position ― the same position as that for the ritual ablutions, performed five times daily before prayers. [Note by Lacey]

^[57] Black was the official color of the Abbassid caliphs. [Note by Lacey]

^[58] Syrian Arab poet, 801-845 A.D. [Note by Lacey]

^[59] The “pearly gate” is of course the teeth, and the “grass” is the sprouting moustache of the adolescent. “Plain” or “prairie” is in Arab erotic poetry always a reference to boy-love.

^[60] A town in central Lebanon, known today for its Greco-Roman classical remains. [Note by Lacey]

^[61] “al-Malik al-Muazzam” is an Arabic honourific title meaning “the Great King” or “the Exalted Prince,” used by several historical rulers.

^[62] Women frequent bathhouses in Muslim countries quite as much as men, but at different hours or on different days. [Note by Lacey] 

^[63] Lacey’s translation “puberty” has been retained because the word is unfortunately far more widely known than “spermarche” (the onset of the boy’s fertility), which is the accurate translation of the Arabic word used, البلوغ al-bulūgh. “Puberty” is always an unsatisfactory word in English because it engenders confusion between spermarche and the much earlier attainment of Tanner stage 2 of scientifically-defined puberty.

^[64] The dowry, or bride-price, is provided by the man, not the woman, in Arab countries. Sexual relations with slave-girls and concubines are permitted and not considered adulterous, under Islamic law. [Note by Lacey]

^[65] At this point there ensues the following paragraph between square brackets in the main text of Lacey’s translation, which he indicates is an insertion by Khawam, the French translator (and which was presumably only not placed as a footnote because of its length):
     “The following is a document belonging to the underworld community. This “underworld” formed a sort of universal syndicate or association of all groups living outside the pale of “decent” society: homosexuals, pimps, prostitutes, hoodlums, etc., and each of these groups had its own particular “union” or “guild.” There was a general Supreme Judge of the “underworld,” who delivered his sentences and was in charge of all of these guilds, all of this taking place completely outside the jurisdiction of official government courts. This judge named his delegates or deputies in every province. Like Alexander the Great, who is referred to in the Koran as “the Two-Horned,” the Supreme Judge, because of his authority, is similarly referred to. His deputy, inferior to him in dignity, is called “the one-Horned.” This letter delegating authority gives the deputy jurisdiction over all the lesser “guilds” and “unions” in his province, including prostitutes, homosexuals, etc.”

^[66] This reference is directed against the Christian doctrines of the Trinity and of the divinity of Jesus. [Note by Lacey]