Travel in al-Ḍāhirī’s Sefer ha-musar: Between Reality and Imagination

El viaje en el Sefer ha-musar de al-Ḍāhirī: entre la realidad y la imaginación

Haitham M. Sharqawy

haitham@art.svu.edu.eg

South Valley University and Kyoto University

ORCID ID: 0000-0003-4365-3290

Naoya Katsumata

katsumata.naoya.5c@kyoto-u.ac.jp

Kyoto University

ORCID ID: 0000-0003-0716-5505

Recibido: 05/09/2023 | Aceptado: 08/01/2024

https://doi.org/10.30827/meahhebreo.v73.28922

Abstract

This article meticulously and systematic­ally analyzes travel accounts appearing in al-Ḍāhirī’s Sefer ha-musar (Book of adab), which is divided into forty-five maqāmāt, written in rhymed prose in Hebrew and according to the literary rules of the Arabic and Hebrew Maqama genres. The theme of travel forms a large portion of this sixteenth-century Yemenite book, as it depicts the protagonist’s travels among several countries and regions in the East. Through such descriptions, some details about the places he visited are given, with special attention and significance being paid to Jerusalem and other holy places in Palestine (Eretz Yisrael). Some scholars and historians have utilized these literary passages as reliable historical sources to understand the period. By comparing al-Ḍāhirī with other Arabic and Hebrew Maqama authors with reference to authentic historical documents, this article tackles, in a comprehensive manner, the question of reality and imagination in his travel accounts.

Keywords: al-Ḍāhirī; Sefer ha-musar; Arabic Maqama­;
Hebrew
Maqama; travel.

Resumen

Este artículo presenta un análisis detallado y meticuloso de los relatos de viaje que aparecen en el Sefer ha-musar (Libro de adab) de al-Ḍāhirī. Esta obra, escrita en Yemen en el siglo XVI, consta de cuarenta y cinco maqāmāt escritas en prosa rimada hebrea según los fundamentos literarios de las maqāmāt árabes y hebreas. El tema del viaje constituye una parte central de la misma, pues en ella se describen los viajes del protagonista a varios países y regiones de Oriente. En sus descripciones figuran detalles relevantes sobre los destinos que visitó, entre los que destacan Jerusalén y otros lugares santos de Palestina (Eretz Yisrael). Algunos investigadores e historiadores han utilizado los textos literarios incluidos en el Sefer ha-musar como fuente fiable para comprender el periodo histórico en el que se escribió la obra. En este artículo, al comparar la obra de al-Ḍāhirī con la de otros escritores de maqāmāt árabes y hebreas, se atiende a sus relatos de viajes en cuanto que documentos históricos, a la vez que se analiza de manera detallada la cuestión de la relación entre realidad e imaginación.

Palabras clave: al-Ḍāhirī; Sefer ha-musar; maqāma árabe; maqāma hebrea; relatos de viaje.

cómo citar este trabajo | how to cite this paper

Sharqawy, H. M., & Katsumata N. (2023), Travel in al-Ḍāhirī’s Sefer ha-musar: Between Reality­ and Imagination. Miscelánea de Estudios Árabes y Hebraicos. Sección Hebreo, 73, 9-36. https://doi.org/10.30827/meahhebreo.v73.28922

1. Introduction

The Yemeni Zecharia al-Ḍāhirī 1 was a poet, a writer, a traveler, and an author of the Hebrew Maqama 2 who lived in the sixteenth century. Historians and scholars have not yet succeeded in identifying the exact dates of his birth and death. Most of the opinions suggested on this matter are taken from al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama itself, which, of course, cannot be isolated from its literary nature. Yehuda Ratzaby claims that al-Ḍāhirī lived roughly from 1516 through 1585 3, whereas Yehuda Amir believes that he lived from 1531 through 1608 4. During his travels, al-Ḍāhirī was interested, not only in engaging in trade, but also in investigating the conditions of Jewish communities, and also delved into religion, philosophy, and literature. His fame was achieved thanks to Sefer ha-musar or the Book of belles-lettres (adab) 5. Furthermore, he wrote some works, such as Sefer ha-‘anaq, or the Book of necklace, in addition to poems written either in Hebrew or in Arabic.

Al-Ḍāhirī created Sefer ha-musar modelled on a literary genre written in rhymed prose (saj‘) and known in Arabic as maqāma and in Hebrew as maḥberet. Al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama, which can be regarded as the masterpiece among his works, did not receive as much attention as the previous Hebrew Maqama works had, apparently because of the paucity of literary works of Yemenite Jews compared to the Jews of al-Andalus or other lands during the medieval period. Most parts of his Maqama had been hidden in manuscripts until a volume containing a part of the introduction and the whole of the last forty-fifth maqāma was published by Hayyim Brody at the end of the nineteenth century 6. Following this publication, scholars continued to publish some sections of the text, especially those with contents conveying historical allusions 7, until Yehuda Ratzaby finally succeeded in editing the whole work in a critical edition based on four manuscripts and published it in 1965 8.

The importance of al-Ḍāhirī stems from his role in the revival of classical Maqama 9 in Hebrew literature after a period of decline that lasted for almost two centuries. After the Hebrew Maqama enjoyed a strong presence and widespread popularity in al-Andalus and Italy during the twelfth through fourteenth centuries, it could not retain its glory until the appearance of al-Ḍāhirī in the sixteenth century, as he wrote forty-five individual maqāmāt to be collected as a book named Sefer ha-musar. Although historians usually agree on determining the end of the mediaeval era to be in the fifteenth century, the characteristics al-Ḍāhirī’s works undoubtedly show that the literary tradition of the Middle Ages did not completely end with its termination in Europe, but that it continued to flourish in Yemen in both poetry and prose. This is also because printing press (such as Gutenberg’s) had not yet reached the 16th century Yemen, and the manuscript tradition of copying Arabic (and Hebrew) books continued to flourish there.

Sefer ha-musar has been highly appreciated by some Jewish scholars and historians, whose research relies on the materials and events mentioned in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama 10. This work is believed to include some indications of real historical events in Yemen during the Ottoman Era (1539–1634). Its importance also lies in the noticeable scarcity of historical resources during this period. Moreover, there are events written in his Maqama about famous Jewish personalities in several places. Such descriptions of events constitute a source for our study, through which we wish to analyze the contents of text that include elements of both reality and imagination 11 by paying close attention to the distinctive features of the art of Maqama in a comparative way 12.

2. Relationship between Travel and Maqama

There are various opinions concerning the identification of the main objective in the composition of Maqama. Naturally, a writer of Maqama (al-maqāmī) composes his Maqama according to his mind and imagination and tries to put it into words using rhymed prose. Therefore, his objective in each maqāma may differ so greatly that we cannot consider only one objective of the entire Maqama. In each new adventure of the hero, a new space is allotted to a new subject. In any case, there is no doubt that travelling is the central spatial core of Maqama. Along with the diversity of travel, the writer of Maqama narrates events and stories in a way that is appropriate for the nature of Maqama. The moving of the Maqama writer from one subject to another corresponds to the moving of the narrator or protagonist from one place to another. Below, we seek to reconfirm the relationship between travels and Maqama from the emergence of the genre until the time of al-Ḍāhirī. This connection helps us reconsider the reality of the travels narrated in Maqama.

An accurate and deep examination of the accounts of travels written by Arabic and Hebrew writers of traditional Maqama throughout the history of the genre shows that many such travels are just the outcomes of imaginary visions used by the writers as a focal point inside Maqama. Of course, the objective of this imagination differs from one writer to another. However, most of the travels are based on the context of innovation and suspense, which corresponds to the nature of Maqama’s protagonist, who is always known by his movement in different places and countries. This continuous movement is a key factor in the distinctive narrative nature of Maqama, through which the writer is able to widen the space for the narration of various subjects 13.

Regarding the ways of presenting travels in the traditional Maqama both in Arabic and Hebrew, the existence of movement is evident in most Maqama compositions. This leads us to a main question concerning the objective of providing different images of travel in Maqama. It is significant to note that there are two main functions of travel in Maqama: In the first and very common function, it is used by Maqama writers just as a fixed opening of each maqāma. The travel in this function, obviously common to most Hebrew and Arab Maqama writers, can be understood as a literary tool used by Maqama writers to move from one maqāma to another. Travel can also appear in Maqama in another function. In the second function, it serves as the main subject of a specific maqāma itself.

The first function of travel flourished and was established in the traditional Maqama from its origin by Badī‘ al-Zamān al-Hamadhānī (969–1008). 14 Following his footsteps, most Maqama writers connected travel to their Maqama. Travelling appears in the opening of al-Hamadhānī’s maqāmāt, starting from his first maqāma (al-Qarīdiyya), in which his narrator states: «Separation once hurled me hither and thither until I reached the utmost confines of Jurjān» 15. Perhaps this inspired Abdelfattah Kilito to declare at the beginning of his study of Maqama that «travelling is existent in all its forms in al-Hamadhānī’s maqāmāt, maps appeared, and some activities were revealed throughout pages of the Maqama» 16. Likewise, travel is widely used by al-Ḥarīrī 17, particularly in the opening of most of his maqāmāt, such as in the first maqāma: «The shocks of the time cast me to Sanaa of Yemen» 18. Similarly, al-Saraqustī’s 19 narrator states: «I rode continuously on the mount of Time, from one situation to another, experiencing abundance and privation, arrival and departure … and I traveled to the port of Shaḥar» 20. It is no wonder to see the prevalence of travel in the Hebrew Maqama of Yehuda al-Ḥarīzī 21, as he imitates Arab Maqama writers. So, for example, he mentions in the twenty-eighth maqāma: «Wandering bore me upon her pinions, and set sparks ablaze in my heart … it was in my heart to return to the land of my dwelling» 22.

Below, we will compare the prominent authors of the Arabic Maqama (al-Hamadhānī, al-Ḥarīrī, al-Saraqustī) with their equivalents in Hebrew Maqama (al-Ḥarīzī and al-Ḍāhirī) 23. By concentrating on the presence of travel and examining how it is implicated and connected to the Maqama, we will tackle the important question: Was travel just a means used by the narrator in the opening of each maqāma, or was it sometimes the main subject of a specific maqāma?

2.1. Travels as mentioned in the opening of each maqāma

The mention of travels in the opening of al-Hamadhānī’s Maqama is prevalent in his work, as he describes the travels of the narrator or the protagonist from one place to another in 44 24 out of his 51 maqāmāt. His style of describing the journey is similar in most of his maqāmāt, though using different linguistic expressions, such as his words in the opening of the above-mentioned first maqāma: «Separation once hurled me hither and thither until I reached the utmost confines of Jurjān» 25, in the seventh maqāma: «while we were at Jurjān» 26, and in the twenty-second maqāma: «I was in Basra» 27.

Al-Ḥarīrī imitated and adjusted al-Hamadhānī’s methods as travel is mentioned in 41 28 out of his total 50 maqāmāt. He used his own vocabulary and distinctive lexis to describe the acts of travel and movement. For example, the words in the opening of his first maqāma run as follows: «The shocks of the time cast me to Sanaa of Yemen» 29. In the fourth maqāma he says: «I journeyed to Damietta» 30, and in the thirty-fifth maqāma: «in my roamings I met in Shiraz» 31.

Likewise, travel is obviously manifested by al-Saraqustī in 43 32 out of his total 50 maqāmāt. He describes the narrator’s adventures and travels among several cities, from China and India in the east to Morocco in the west. Surprisingly, he mentions travel to his homeland, al-Andalus, only once, in the forty-third maqāma, where he travels to the peninsula of Tarif 33. There is no evidence that he visited these distant countries and places mentioned in his Maqama 34. Examples of travelling as the opening are found in the third maqāma: «I went down to the land of Hulwan» 35, in the twenty-seventh maqāma: «I was in one of the lands of India,» 36 and in the thirty-sixth maqāma: «I hal­ted in the land of China» 37.

Al-Ḥarīzī also adopted the approach of the Arabic Maqama writers, as he puts travel in the opening of 40 38 out of 50 of his maqāmāt. He uses the names of cities and places as mentioned in the Bible, for example: «And I set my purpose to range to the ends of the earth, until I came to the boundary of Babylon and Persia» 39, «I came to Egypt» 40, «I journeyed with merchandise to the land of Basra» 41.

Regarding al-Ḍāhirī, he surpassed all these other writers, as he considered travel as a means by which to start 42 42 out of his 45 maqāmāt. So, for example, his words in the opening of the second maqāma: «I traveled from the land of Egypt facing towards Yemen» 43. Moreover, in the fifth maqāma, he mentions: «I traveled from the land of Babylon to the land of Syria for trading of 50 cargoes of expensive and cheap goods» 44. The twenty-second maqāma opens with the saying, «My heart lifted me up to travel to Jerusalem» 45.

2.2. Travels as the main subject of a specific maqāma

In addition to the above-mentioned function of travel as a tool to open each maqāma, it sometimes serves as the main subject of a specific maqāma itself. Admittedly, there are also maqāmāt that contain some partial images of travel within their subject matter, but we will rather focus on maqāmāt where a complete image of travel functions as their core subject. This kind of function is only found in Hebrew Maqama by al-Ḥarīzī and al-Ḍāhirī 46.

A maqāma of al-Ḥarīzī, maḥberet mozne ha-dor, or «the Gate of the evaluations of people of the age», has long been known as the forty-sixth maqāma of Taḥkemoni, 47 but now it may be counted as the thirty-ninth 48. This maqāma contains a complete description of al-Ḥarīzī’s travels among several cities in the Middle East at the beginning of the thirteenth century. There has long been controversy among scholars and historians concerning al-Ḥarīzī’s travel depicted in this maqāma. Some of these depictions were thought to be reliable, while others were doubtful or uncertain. The important change in scholarship occurred with the emergence of Yahalom and Blau’s study in 2003, Mas‘e Yehuda, or «the Travels of Yehuda» 49. They collected and compared for the first time the literary descriptions of travel in al-Ḥarīzī’s Hebrew Maqama together with the autobiographical descriptions of travel that al-Ḥarīzī composed in Judeo-Arabic. After the discovery of an important new manuscript that belonged to the above-mentioned Arabic descriptions of travel, Blau and Yahalom, now joined by Paul Fenton, published Kitāb al-durar in a critical edition in 2009 50. It was thereby verified that some instances of travel mentioned in the Hebrew Maqama of al-Ḥarīzī were indeed real. By analyzing such descriptions, we can regard a maqāma like maḥberet mozne ha-dor as belonging to the second type of maqāma, in which travel functions as the central core subject.

Concerning al-Ḍāhirī, his thirty-ninth maqāma contains the most significant descriptions, upon which Ratzaby relied in identifying the real nature of al-Ḍāhirī’s travels. This maqāma includes descriptions of travel among a number of countries such as India, Persia, Iraq, Syria, Egypt, and Yemen 51, and is, like the thirty-ninth of al-Ḥarīzī, regarded as an example of this type of maqāma.

As previously stated, there is an obvious relationship between travel and Maqama. First, a Maqama writer mentions travel in the opening of each maqāma, which is to be observed by both Arabic and Hebrew authors. As for a possible relationship between the writers’ own biographies and their real travels on the one hand and their descriptions of travels in their Maqama on the other, we can safely say that the travel accounts in the Arabic Maqama of al-Hamadhānī, al-Ḥarīrī, and al-Saraqustī are just outcomes of their imagination, because there is no evidence, at least until now, that these Arab writers had indeed visited some of the places mentioned in their Maqama. Therefore, one can assume that travel in Arabic Maqama serves only as a function of opening each maqāma.

On the other hand, both Hebrew writers, al-Ḥarīzī and al-Ḍāhirī, had no problem mixing these two types of travel accounts in their Maqama. For example, the first type of purely literary and imaginary nature appears in the opening of al-Ḥarīzī’s thirty-second maqāma: «I journeyed in the days of my youth from the land of Persia to the lands of Meshekh and Tiras» 52. There is no proof that al-Ḥarīzī visited these places 53. Regarding this matter, Yahalom and Katsumata stated that al-Ḥarīzī usually opens each of his maqāmāt by mentioning travel from one place to another, but some of these names are just imaginary ones taken from the Bible 54.

Likewise, al-Ḍāhirī adopted the same method to narrate travel in the opening of his maqāma. Sometimes, the place’s name is taken from the Bible just for the sake of a rhyming effect with the word before or after it, without taking into consideration the subject of the particular maqāma or geographical reality 55. For example, he opens the seventeenth maqāma: «I traveled from Mount Shefer (Num 33:23) to Qiryat Sefer (Jos 15:15)». According to Ratzaby, al-Ḍāhirī had never visited these two places before, but mentioned them just to start his maqāma by describing a movement from one place to another as well as to maintain the rhyme scheme 56. Another example is in the sixth maqāma where he states: «I traveled from the land of Syria, via the Upper Galilee, to the city 57 of Safed, the land of Canaan, son of Yefet’s brother, and on this route I passed by Hamat, Damascus, and Aram-Naharaim, in which there are sons of Judah and Ephraim» 58. Here al-Ḍāhirī misplaces Aram Naharaim geographically, because it is not situated on the path of his travel from Syria to Safed. Nevertheless, he uses it for consistency with rhyme of the word Ephraim in the following sentence.

It is worth mentioning that since al-Ḍāhirī drew materials from various sources for the sake of his Maqama, sometimes he had to form his Maqama according to the original without any consideration of the geographical reality of the travel. For example, in the thirty-third maqāma, he describes the city of Qiryat Sefer without geographical correctness as follows: «it is located on the Euphrates like a splendid vine» 59. This is because the entire maqāma is taken from the twenty-second maqāma (al-furātiyya) of al-Ḥarīrī al-Baṣrī, 60 where the events occur around the Euphrates.

As seen above, the second type of travel accounts as the main subject exist both in the thirty-ninth maqāma of al-Ḥarīzī and in the thirty-ninth maqāma­ of al-Ḍāhirī. A common factor between the two is vividly noticeable, since the travel is narrated in these maqāmāt by the protagonist himself, as opposed to other maqāmāt, in which it is narrated by the narrator.

3. Itinerary of al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama

Here, we will try to follow the supposed itinerary of al-Ḍāhirī as it appears in his Maqama, whether the travel was real or imaginary. Our aim is to follow the travel and identify the places by examining their geographical reality. Thus, it will pave the way for some important findings that will reveal the purposes of narrating travels in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama.

Ratzaby identifies the sequence of al-Ḍāhirī’s travels in different countries based on his own assumptions. According to Ratzaby, the countries include the following: Yemen, India, Persia, Iraq, Turkey, Syria, Palestine (Eretz Yisrael), Egypt, Ethiopia, and Yemen. He also adds and says, «The thirty-ninth maqāma reflects the real itinerary of his travels. Al-Ḍāhirī places the countries that visited in the following order: India, Persia, Iraq, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and Yemen. Admittedly, in three other maqāmāt (the twelfth, the twenty-third, and the thirty-second), al-Ḍāhirī says that he visited Egypt first and then Palestine. In such an itinerary, he may speak about his second visit to Palestine. On the other hand, he mentions in the twenty-eighth maqāma that he visited Persia and Medes before visiting Palestine» 61. It should be noted that Ethiopia was never included in any maqāma mentioned here by Ratzaby.

In addition to these maqāmāt on which Ratzaby relied for the reconstruction of the itinerary of al-Ḍāhirī, there are some other maqāmāt in which the countries al-Ḍāhirī apparently visited are mentioned. So, for example, in the twenty-fifth maqāma he tells us: «when God caused me to wander from my father’s house, and the fire of exile burned inside me to the extent of madness, I traveled to the lands of India, Basra, Iraq, 62 Erekh, Akkad, Kalne and Nusaybin … and Hamat, Damascus, Syria, Safed, and Tiberias … and I moved from there to Kafr Kanna, the city of Jonah ben Amittai, then to Shechem, Jerusalem, Hebron, the homelands of my ancestors. And I moved to Jaffa, feeling highly worried. From there I boarded a ship to the land of Egypt in the wide sea … and finally I reached Ethiopia and came to al-Ṣalīf 63. Then, the time was tough for me. When I moved to the city of Sanaa …» 64.

In the forty-fifth and last maqāma, al-Ḍāhirī summerizes his travels by describing the protagonist, Avner ben Ḥeleq, visiting all over India, Hormuz, and Basra, then passing by Iraq, Aleppo, and Damascus, and reaching the Upper Galilee, the cities of Safed and Tiberias, the whole land of Palestine, and Jerusalem. After that, he reached Egypt and Ethiopia, and finally, his homeland, Yemen 65.

Therefore, the itinerary proposed by Ratzaby for the travels in al-Ḍāhirī may cause some confusion, particularly concerning the places of his travels in Iraq, Syria, Turkey, Palestine, and Egypt. This will be scrutinized and clarified below by carefully examining the descriptions of his travels appearing in his Maqama.

In the eighth maqāma, al-Ḍāhirī apparently states that he started his travel from his homeland, Yemen, onboard a ship going to India. After 20 days, he reached Calicut 66, and then Kochi 67: «I traveled from the land of Yemen to the land of India and Kochi 68 to make profit through trading … Then I travelled to Sefara (Gen 10:30) 69, and then boarded a ship in the wide sea with the help of my God for 20 days until reaching the city of Calicut … From there I traveled to the city of Kochi» 70. From India, al-Ḍāhirī sailed to Hormuz in Persia, where he also visited the city of Tabriz 71. He then seemingly moved to Iraq, as affirmed in different places in his Maqama. In the fourth maqāma, he said: «I traveled from the city of Hormuz to Iraq, situated on Tigris River» 72. In the ninth maqāma, he says, «I stayed with him in Hormuz for six months, and then I left him and moved to the city of Basra» 73. In Mesopotamia, al-Ḍāhirī visited cities such as Basra, Baghdad, Erbil, Mosul, Maritime, and Kfar. Like other Jewish travelers, he also visited holy places there 74. Regarding the direction of his travel after leaving Iraq, there is not enough available data or references to identify the next place he traveled to, but supposedly it would be in one of the two directions:

The first possible direction is Turkey. This is evidently one of the directions of his travels that he repeatedly mentioned in his Maqama. It is reasonable to suppose that he arrived there from Erbil, east of Iraq. He visited Constantinople and Bursa in Turkey. In addition, he might have traveled from Turkey to Greece, as he mentioned in the forty-first maqāma: «I traveled from Turkey to a city in the Greek region» 75. The second possible direction is Syria. This is what Ratzaby thinks, although he seems to rely on inconclusive proof that al-Ḍāhirī speaks in his thirteenth maqāma that he was in Mosul and that he begins the next fourteenth maqāma mentioning his trade in the Hadrakh region in Syria 76. However, we cannot rely on the order of maqāmāt in determining the sequence of places that he visited because they are not compatible along the line 77.

In Syria, he visited Aleppo, Hama, Damascus, and other cities that he did not mention explicitly 78. From Syria, he appears to have been heading towards Palestine 79. Just as there is disagreement among researchers regarding al-Ḍāhirī’s destination after leaving Mesopotamia: Was he heading to Turkey or Syria?, the situation is very similar with regard to Palestine. To this land, al-Ḍāhirī paid great attention. This fact reflects his commitment to its national and religious importance at the same time. He mentions its cities and their conditions, sometimes only in general descriptions, and in other cases in minute detail.

The abundant detailed pieces of information that al-Ḍāhirī documented about Palestine­, its cities, their sacred places, and people, show that he was not only concerned with its historical and geographic aspects, but also with social and religious aspects of the Jewish People, which could raise several serious questions, the most important among them being posed by Ratzaby: When did al-Ḍāhirī visit Palestine? With our humble respect for his painstaking effort in collecting all the relevant information as well as discovering all the significant details, Ratzaby does not seem to have fully succeeded in reaching a convincing conclusion 80.

In addition to the question posed by Ratzaby about the time of al-Ḍāhirī’s visit to Palestine, we may also ask another question that is no less important: How did al-Ḍāhirī arrive in Palestine? Was it from Syria, Turkey, or Egypt? In fact, answering such a question is very complicated, and considering geographical reality, it seems almost impossible to reach an overall conclusion. As stated above, al-Ḍāhirī paid great attention to Palestine, to such an extent that he mentioned his travel to Palestine in seventeen out of forty-five maqāmāt 81. Such an emphasis on his travels becomes all the more evident when we note that in four maqāmāt 82 he states that the direction of his travel was from Syria to Palestine, then in the thirty-second maqāma, he tells about this travel from Egypt to Palestine 83, and not the opposite (from Palestine to Egypt), as could be understood from the context of his entire Maqama. Moreover, the claim of Braslavsky (mentioned in note 80) that al-Ḍāhirī visited Palestine twice turns the supposed itinerary of his travel altogether upside-down and eventually makes us uncertain of such pieces of information about his travels, just as Ratzaby was.

Al-Ḍāhirī made various reports about his travel from Syria to Palestine. As was cited above in our discussion, in the sixth maqāma he states: «I traveled from the land of Syria, via the Upper Galilee, to the city of Safed» 84. In the seventh maqāma he mentions: «I traveled from Jerusalem, the city of righteousness, to the land of Egypt, in an attempt to meet repairers of the bleaches» 85. In the twelfth maqāma he says: «I traveled from Sidon to the land of Egypt, because there live sons of Judah and Ephraim, and I boarded a ship to Damietta port (kaftor 86. In the twenty-fifth maqāma he states (also discussed above): «And I moved to Jaffa … From there I boarded a ship to the land of Egypt in the wide sea» 87. And in the thirty-ninth maqāma he states: «I wandered around most regions of Palestine . . . From there I boarded a ship in the sea towards the land of Egypt» 88. On the other hand, in the thirty-second maqāma he mentions his travel from Egypt to Palestine: «I traveled from Memphis (nof) to Jerusalem (yefe nof, «beautiful for situation») 89, and then I left Hebron via Samaria and arrived at Usha and Shefaram» 90.

According to al-Ḍāhirī, he visited Tiberias, Safed, Sidon, Galilee, Shechem, Jerusalem­, Hebron, Jaffa, and many other cities in Palestine 91, and Damietta, Cairo, Alexandria, and Bima in Egypt. As is told in the thirty-ninth maqāma, while in Egypt, he received disturbing news from his homeland, Yemen: «From there I boarded a ship in the sea towards the land of Egypt, and I was sitting there between the oven and the stove (in trouble and distress) 92, because of what I heard about my homeland» 93. Al-Ḍāhirī does not clarify the truthfulness of this news, but apparently decides to return to Yemen because of it, passing Ethiopia on his way back, as is told in the twenty-fifth maqāma: «From there I boarded a ship to the land of Egypt in the wide sea. There, I sat between the oven and the stove (in trouble and distress) 94, and finally I reached Ethiopia and came to al-Ṣalīf» 95.

In the second maqāma, al-Ḍāhirī depicts his travel from Egypt to Yemen in detail as follows: «I traveled from the land of Egypt, and my destination was to Yemen, so I hired a ship in the Nile River (pishon) … I sailed about twenty days in the river, in the presence of God (nora ve-ayom, «terrible and dreadful»). Then I got out of the river, and my heart was rash, so I walked on land for three days with my weak soul, and we rested on the seashore, where the children of Israel stripped themselves of their ornaments (Exod 33:6). From there I harnessed the chariots of departure, took provision for my travel, and hired a ship with 20 coins … I prepared there my place and residence, and traveled on board. Twenty days later, the wind became very rough, so that the ship seemed likely to be wrecked (Jonah 1:4), and I got very much terrified. Then I raised my eyes up to God who makes a way in the sea (Isa 43:16), and He heard my calling and saved me, and from the depths of the sea He guided me to the rest. We remained about a month and a half, and God of Israel brought my salvation. Then I began to change my clothes, when I arrived at the port of al-Ṣalīf» 96.

This text reveals the character of al-Ḍāhirī the traveler, and his ingenuity in combining the key elements to describe his travel in a Maqama style. First of all, he identifies the starting and ending points of travel, namely from Egypt to Yemen. He then provides details about the route of sailing in the Nile River first and then in the Red Sea, means of transportation by ship, fares to be paid, reservation and preparation of a place, and the time limit for each distance covered. This is in addition to the description of the excitement of the travel and the horrors and risks at sea, which are also found in the writings of many travelers 97. Eventually, he reveals the habit of changing clothes shortly before arrival, metaphorically regarded as a symbol of hardship and suffering on board. On a practical level, this is also an indication of the completion of a travel and the beginning of a new one of a special nature and different preparation, of course with new clothes.

4. Between reality and imagination

As indicated and discussed above, al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama has acquired a distinctive significance among some historians and scholars, because they regarded this book as a major historical source of the conditions and lifestyle of the Yemeni Jews in the sixteenth century. This is in addition to other historical materials mentioned and recorded inside Maqama during his visit to other cities and countries. Despite the significance of what al-Ḍāhirī has recorded in his Maqama about sights and events, some of which can indeed reflect reality, any attempt to rely on all the narratives appearing in his Maqama and to count them as facts is incompatible with the nature of the art of Maqama and its literary and rhetorical features 98.

Foremost among these «historical» materials is the introduction by which al-Ḍāhirī begins his Maqama, about which the Yemeni historian and rabbi ‘Amram Koraḥ (1871–1952) says: «As for the situation of the Jews during their period of control (the Ottomans’ control of Yemen 1546–1628), we do not know what happened in detail; we only have simple references by Zechariah al-Ḍāhirī in his introduction to Sefer ha-musar» 99. This is in addition to other plentiful historical materials and references mentioned in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama, from which Jewish historiographer Ḥayyim Ḥabshush learned about Yemeni Jews in the sixteenth century 100. Al-Ḍāhirī says in his introduction: «Thus the events began by the judgment of God (temim de‘ot, «perfect in knowledge», Job 36:4), in the year of ‘Has God forgotten (hashakhaḥ, H(5000)-Sh(300)-K(20)-Ḥ(8) = AM 5328 = AD 1568) to be gracious? Has He in anger shut up His tender mercies (Ps 77:10) to the remnant of His heritage (Micah 7:18) and people?’ In that year, the Arabs overcame the Ottomans and smote them shrewdly, and put us in prison» 101. Al-Ḍāhirī devoted seven places to the events of Yemen, once in the introduction and six times in his Maqama 102, in which he is likely to be presenting a real history of events that cannot be separated from the historical facts of that period, because most of them are compatible and correspond to other historical sources.

The most prominent among these events are the long wars that took place between al-’Imām al-Zaydī al-Muṭahhar ibn Sharaf al-Dīn 103 and the Ottomans. As a result of these wars, al-Muṭahhar abused the Jews and humiliated them in imprisonment. Moreover, al-Ḍāhirī was one of those prisoners until the restrictions were abolished. According to al-Ḍāhirī 104, the Jews were set free immediately after the death of al-Muṭahhar in 1572, a statement that is also supported by al-Kabsī and al-Wāsi‘ī 105. However, the reason for the exemplary punishment of the Jews by al-Muṭahhar remains unclear. Speculation suggests that the Yemeni Jews at the time were on terms with the Ottomans or at least maintained a relationship with them. What Ratzaby says about the tolerance of the Ottoman Sultan at that time Selim II (1524–1574 AD) toward the Jews and his relationship with them 106 could be both acceptable and reliable. Moreover, al-Ḍāhirī, particularly in his second maqāma, states that the Ottoman soldiers had apparently camped in the homes of the Yemeni Jews without objection 107, which could be a reliable indicator of a good relationship, or at least a pro-Ottoman relationship.

Perhaps this view is also to be reinforced by the epithet that al-Ḍāhirī uses for al-Muṭahhar by mentioning his lameness (ḥigger) 108; This epithet aroused the curiosity of Ratzaby, but he was unable to interpret it 109. However, after reviewing the Arabic sources for this period, it becomes clear to us that al-Muṭahhar was nicknamed «lame»because he had a birth defect in his foot that made him unable to walk normally, and therefore was known as ignorant and defected 110. It is also noted that this epithet was attached to al-Muṭahhar only in historical sources that tended to favor the Ottomans; such an epithet and details about al-Muṭahhar were not mentioned by al-Kabsī, al-Wāsi‘ī, or al-Shawkānī 111.

Despite some degree of reliability of what al-Ḍāhirī mentioned and recorded regarding historical events and incidents in Yemen as well as its compatibility with other historical sources, it is not without contradictions that could challenge reality and violate logicality. For example, al-Ḍāhirī mentions the duration of years of imprisonment as six years 112, while in the fortieth maqāma, he contradicts this number by determining the duration to be twenty-seven years 113, and in the forty-fifth maqāma, he claims that it was almost forty years 114. This contradiction does not undervalue al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama, since it is not just devoted to the description of pure historical events; on the contrary, he releases his literary fantasy to compose his Maqama in rhymed prose. This is clearly indicated in his introduction, which reveals his intention to blend reality with imagination. That is, his Maqama is a narration of reality and fiction mingled together. Al-Ḍāhirī states in his introduction that some parts of his Maqama contain historical events related to the Jews; however, before concluding this part, he frankly points out that he tracks the approach adopted by al-Ḥarīrī and al-Ḥarīzī in his writing of Maqama 115.

To a large extent, the same is true of al-Ḍāhirī’s travel accounts, which he loaded with observations and imagination that cannot by any means be detached or separated. This is because the material is very complicated and significantly intertwined. It would be both appropriate and accurate to say that al-Ḍāhirī himself connected all the strings together to such an extent that they are too tough to untangle.

In his Introduction, he begins by declaring that he is a narrator of the events: «the humble Zecharya ben Se‘adya ben Ya‘akov al-Ḍāhirī said …» 116. After thanking God, he starts saying: «My heart guided me to narrate some events we, the inhabitants of the city of Sanaa, have faced, as well as ordeals we have been through …» 117. Then, he continues: «Thus the events began by the judgment of God in the year of 1568» 118. At that point, he refers to his Maqama: «I wrote a book to be read by every depressed person, and while suffering the plight of prison, I named it Sefer ha-musar» 119. He concludes his introduction with a simple description of the form and content of his Maqama, from which one can deduce the features of the literary imagination in this book. Concerning the form, he states that he will narrate it through the mouths of two characters: Mordechai­ the Sidonian and Avner ben Ḥeleq the Yemeni, as is customary for Arabic and Hebrew Maqama.

Al-Ḍāhirī repeatedly mentions that he followed in the footsteps of his predecessors, admitting that: «Rabbi Yehuda Ḥarīzī preceded me in his book … as he had derived his working from the wise Arab al-Ḥarīrī» 120. The Maqama is considered originally a literary and imaginary product of its composer, with its rhymed prose that sometimes echoes and resonates with real events from the composer’s own life. However, al-Ḍāhirī also states: «I divided the book into maqāmāt that contain different subjects related to what happened to me when I was a stranger during my travels» 121. Therefore, one can understand that al-Ḍāhirī recorded his real travels under different themes. Although one cannot refute this altogether, it should also be noted that most, if not all, of his observations contain much imagination. This is because al-Ḍāhirī’s travel accounts do not necessarily prove that they really took place. Moreover, many of the descriptions of his travels are marked by outright contradictions if they are analyzed geographically, historically, or logically, as follows:

1.India and Persia

Al-Ḍāhirī included indications of his travels to India and Persia in nine maqāmāt. They differ from one another in terms of the space allocated. Despite their importance for containing observations and recordings of the conditions of the Jews he had met during his path of travel 122, what is worthy of note here is to trace his narrated movements and to make it clear if they can indeed be understood as reflecting the actual time and place, or rather as a literary imagination, especially with various and multiple contradictions that could defect the path of his travels in different places.

In the eighth maqāma (as is cited and discussed above), al-Ḍāhirī states that he began his travel from Yemen to India: «I traveled from the land of Yemen to the land of India and kush to make profit through trading. My way was chosen, and I travelled to Sefara … until reaching the city of Calicut … From there I traveled to the city of Kochi» 123. What is interesting here is that al-Ḍāhirī has completely neglected geographical fact when he admits that he boarded the ship from Sefara, namely Sanaa, which is located at the center of Yemen and does not overlook the water 124; not to mention his statement at the beginning: «I traveled from the land of Yemen to the land of India and kush», which literally means that he traveled from Yemen to India and Ethiopia. This is an obvious geographical contradiction. Even if one accepts the assumption that he meant the Indian city of Kochi, which is also mentioned later («From there I traveled to the city of Kochi»), and that he used this spelling to conform to his rhymed prose style, it must be pointed out that al-Ḍāhirī indeed mentioned kush in a different place in his Maqama to refer to Ethiopia 125. Hence, one realizes that al-Ḍāhirī is often mixing reality with imagination, as he originally wrote his Maqama with all its literary implications and imaginable features.

Another contradiction can be noticed in his travels to India and Persia. In his ninth maqāma, he states that he traveled from India to Hormuz: «I traveled in the month of tammuz from the land of India to the land of Persia and to the city of Hormuz. I sailed onboard the wide sea for seven days. During the voyage, the terrors fell upon me (Ps 55:5) because the stormy wind was getting stronger and stronger, making the ship ­almost broken» 126. This narration is supposed to coincide with the path of his travel, as he has referred to it in other places in his Maqama. However, he contradicts himself in the nineteenth maqāma by saying that he traveled from Hormuz to India: «When I was in Hormuz, a city given to pleasures more than any other city, I decided to go to the land of India by sea, so I divided its waves and their roaring … After eight days of voyage, the terrors fell upon me (Ps 55:5), because the outrageous waves of the sea stood before us» 127. In these two similar descriptions of the voyage, al-Ḍāhirī has added an interesting narration about the incident of the ship with the horrors of the sea. These descriptions recall the repetitive stories of horror at sea in travelogue literature, where «fear affects the imagination of the travelers, and so under the delusion, they believe unreal events to be true and magnify trivial incidents to be serious ones» 128, and so do some Maqama writers. The contradiction here raises several questions: Why did al-Ḍāhirī change the path of his travel? Did he fall into this contradiction? Or is it intended to have a certain significance?

Most of the travel contradictions in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama can be attributed to literary imagination or the structures of rhymed prose. Conversely, regarding this nineteenth maqāma, the situation is different because it was not al-Ḍāhirī’s original literal product, but rather, according to Ratzaby, taken from the thirty-ninth maqāma of al-Ḥarīrī (al-‘ummāniyya) 129. This answers questions about the contradictions that occur. Al-Ḍāhirī composed this maqāma by translating al-Ḥarīrī’s maqāma into Hebrew, though with minor modifications, without paying sufficient attention to geographical reality or a true itinerary. Consequently, this leads us to reassess the incident of the ship; as it constitutes the core theme of al-Ḥarīrī’s thirty-ninth maqāma, al-Ḍāhirī also makes it the central theme of his ninteenth maqāma. Therefore, it would also be defensible to doubt the truth of the incident of the ship described by al-Ḍāhirī in his ninth maqāma.

2.The Levant

Al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama is filled with various indications of his travels from and around the Levant, as this region extends from the eastern coast of the Mediterranean Sea to the borders of Mesopotamia. Today, it includes Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Israel. Al-Ḍāhirī’s narration in the opening of the fifth maqāma is considered the most significant description about his travel to the Levant, as he says: «I traveled from the land of Babylon to the land of Syria for trading of 50 cargoes of expensive and cheap goods. On the way, there are several cities located on the rivers Tigris and Euphrates, including Assyria, Erekh, Akkad, Kalne, and Nusaybin» 130. Although this passage is significant for determining the locations of his movements and travels from Iraq to the Levant, it is doubtful if we can rely on it completely, especially after Ratzaby showed that the contents of this fifth maqāma have been taken from mishle shu‘alim (Fox fables) by Berakhya ha-Naqdan 131. It is clear, therefore, that al-Ḍāhirī’s narration about travel serves here only as an opening to his fifth maqāma, which is typical, as we have seen above, of both the Arabic and Hebrew Maqama composers’ writing and narrative style.

Palestine (Eretz Yisrael) is the center of al-Ḍāhirī’s travels in the Levant and is the most important for him. This is highlighted by the many travels in which he mentioned Palestine and its cities. Therefore, his Maqama is replete with multiple signs of ­Palestine. He mentions holy places and rabbis, as well as some precise details about the conditions of society, as if we were seeing a vivid picture of the important features of society of that period. This gives Palestine a special character compared to the other cities and countries mentioned in his Maqama.

The significance of some details lies in their correspondence and compatibility with other sources in a realistic manner. For instance, in the city of Safed, al-Ḍāhirī estimates the number of the Jewish community to be about 14,000 people, which is in accord with the consensus of some travelers who visited the city at nearly the same time 132. Al-Ḍāhirī also mentions some of the prominent Palestinian sages, such as Yosef Caro, Moshe of Trani, and Moshe Cordovero, while presenting a detailed description of the Caro’s yeshiva in Safe 133. It is worth mentioning here that this detailed description is used by Eyal Davidson, who considers it reliable evidence in documenting the teaching methods in Caro Yeshiva 134. In another place, however, he lessens its importance as he says: «As this narration (referring to al-Ḍāhirī’s discussion of the power of the soul in the Caro’s yeshiva) is not a true historical evidence but a fictional literary writing reflecting only the writer’s vision, and it is highly doubtful if it is to be used to scrutinize the mentioned teaching methods of the yeshiva» 135.

This matter is very similar to Tiberias, which receives a significant place in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama through the description of important facts and events that are not free from historical contradictions. However, some descriptions of Tiberias are consistent with other sources, giving them a realistic nature, whether they come from al-Ḍāhirī’s own recording of events or from what he heard, which seems to be quite possible. The most prominent of these facts is the detailed narrative of the conditions of the yeshiva of Tiberias after the support of Doña Gracia Mendes Nasi (d. 1569): «Know that our Yeshiva in the past had about seventy scholars, and they were supported by an honorable lady from Great Constantinople, who worked for God» 136.

As mentioned and elucidated earlier, the descriptions of his travel to some cities of Palestine contain historical as well as geographical contradictions; it is natural that al-Ḍāhirī moves from Syria to Palestine from north to south, but he does not do so in two of his maqāmāt. In his twenty-second maqāma, he says that he arrived in Jaffa by sea, without explaining from where, and that he went from south to north: «I decided to visit Jerusalem, the Holy City, because of an idea that had occurred in my heart, and then I boarded a ship in the sea and arrived to Jaffa on the night the stars lit up. I first went to Hebron, from there to Kidron Valley, and then on to Mount Zion» 137. In his thirty-second maqāma, he states that he traveled from south to north as well: «I traveled from Memphis to Jerusalem, and then I left Hebron via Samaria and arrived at Usha and Shefaram» 138.

In fact, it is not possible to rely on the evidence of these two maqāmāt because they are not the original literary creation of al-Ḍāhirī; this is because the twenty-second maqāma is heavily dependent on the twenty-eighth maqāma (the thirty-eighth in Recension B) of al-Ḥarīzī. Concerning the thirty-second maqāma of al-Ḍāhirī, its travel introduction corresponds to the travel introduction of the sixteenth maqāma (the twenty-eighth in Recension B) of al-Ḥarīzī, who says at the beginning of his maqāma: «I traveled from the land of Memphis to Jerusalem» 139, while al-Ḍāhirī says: «I traveled from Memphis to Jerusalem» 140. Regarding other descriptions of the travels of al-Ḍāhirī to Palestine, no one has proven so far whether they are the original creativity of al-Ḍāhirī himself or whether he has derived them from other sources. Moreover, his Maqama is not free of geographic inaccuracies. For example, he tells us about his travel on the Euphrates River to Gaza, and on the way there is the Egyptian city of Tahpanhes, which is a complete contradiction to logic and geography 141.

3.Egypt

As is told more than once in his Maqama, Egypt is supposed to be the penultimate place and position in al-Ḍāhirī’s travel track, from which he moved to Ethiopia before returning to his homeland, Yemen. In tracking the different places of Egyptian cities and locations he visited, it may be seen that such travels are incompatible with any possible reality because of the frequent contradictions that could hinder any attempt to form a logical reliable image of the entire route.

Al-Ḍāhirī states in three different places that he moved from Palestine to Egypt; in the seventh maqāma, he traveled from Jaffa to Damietta 142, in the twelfth maqāma, he moved from Sidon to Damietta 143, and in the twenty-fifth maqāma he traveled from Jaffa to Egypt 144. This is completely contrary to the opposite direction, when he refers in two other places to his move from Egypt to Palestine: In the thirty-second maqāma he traveled from Memphis to Jerusalem 145, and in the first maqāma, he traveled from Alexandria to Mount Hermon 146.

Thus, these movements can be understood as inspired by al-Ḍāhirī’s imagination in order to provide a spark of excitement for the subjects of his Maqama, such as the traditional books of Maqama. Perhaps this also confirms that there are other movements appearing in Egypt in his Maqama that are completely contrary to logic and geographical reality, which could only be explained for the preservation of the rhyme scheme. An example of such cases is what he mentions in his thirty-eighth maqāma about his travel to the land of Maritime 147 in Iraq: «The happenings of time rolled me up to the land of Maritime, located beyond the rivers of Egypt» 148.

4. Conclusion

As elucidated and scrutinized throughout this study, the travel in al-Ḍāhirī’s Hebrew Maqama is basically similar to that of the traditional Arabic Maqama of al-Hamadhānī, al-Ḥarīrī, and al-Saraqustī, and that of al-Ḥarizi’s Hebrew Maqama; the travel is a literary prerequisite as is stipulated by the genre of Maqama. However, two different functions of travel have been observed. In the first function, travel is narrated in the opening of each maqāma, which is followed by both Arabic and Hebrew traditional Maqama writers. In the second function, travel serves as part of a specific maqāma subject, and this function is almost unique to the Hebrew Maqama of al-Ḥarizi and al-Ḍāhirī. Moreover, it is possible to understand the existence of this second function in Hebrew Maqama as reflecting in some way or another the real travels that al-Ḥarizi and al-Ḍāhirī both undertook in different countries.

Many maqāmāt in which al-Ḍāhirī uses the technique of mentioning the travel in their opening sentences show that he exactly follows the conventional pattern established by the writers of the classical Arabic and Hebrew Maqama who preceded him. Accordingly, when the described travel clearly contradicts geographic reality and logic, it should be attributed to imagination rather than reality. This also results from a significant trait of the Maqama genre of maintaining the rhyme scheme between sentences. By adopting this principle, al-Ḍāhirī often keeps the rhyme scheme by borrowing place names from the Bible that do not correspond to any geographical reality or logical itinerary. Al-Ḍāhirī also borrows some subjects from several Arabic and Hebrew resources in composing some of his maqāmāt. This shows that these travel accounts are not necessarily real, such as his travels to Iraq or the horrors faced by travelers during travel by sea.

On the other hand, al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama seems to include some actual events, such as the persecution of the Yemeni Jews by al-’Imām al-Zaydī al-Muṭahhar and his soldiers, in addition to the flood in Yemen and its resultant consequences. Moreover, he speaks about the Jews of Tabriz, who became Muslim and then desired to return to Judaism. He truly describes some countries and their conditions, such as the renaissance achieved by the people of Safed and Tiberias and his estimation of the number of Jewish inhabitants in Safed 149.

This study recommends not relying automatically on all the information mentioned in al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama, as it is not completely real, especially when it comes to his travel accounts. However, as is true with his Jewish predecessor, al-Ḥarīzī, there also exists some information concerning his travels that does correspond to other historical sources and can be logically accepted as reflecting in some way al-Ḍāhirī’s own travel.

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1. There is some controversary among scholars whether the true form of his nickname should be written with the Arabic ḍād (الضاهري, al-Ḍāhirī) or ẓā’ (الظاهري, al-Ẓāhirī). In Hebrew, the nickname is written as אלצ'אהרי, with the letter צ tsadi followed by a tiny horizontal line on the top (named geresh in Hebrew). The nickname in such a form is preceded by the Arabic definite article (al-), and all are put into Hebrew characters. The Jews of Yemen in the medieval era used to use the letter tsadi, not only for the Arabic ṣād, but also for two other Arabic letters (ḍād and ẓā’) by adding a geresh sign. See Wagner, 2009: 160, note 69. According to Yehuda Ratzaby, he was nicknamed al-Ḍāhirī in connection with a place in Yemen. See Ratzaby,1965: 41. Wagner shows that the Judge Muḥammad bin Aḥmad al-Ḥajrī al-Yamānī mentioned two places with the name Ḍahr in Yemen, and also that there are several places with the name al-Ẓāhir, used as a name referring to a high place. See al-Ḥajrī, 1966: 554- 563. See also al-Maqḥafī, 2002: 950, 971–972. Wagner’s opinion that the nickname of our poet originally derives from the place name al-Ẓāhir, rather than Ḍahr, is also shared with Yosef Tobi, who writes this name in English as al-Zahiri. See Tobi, 1999: 276. See also Turkī, 2016: 28. In this paper, we will write this name as al-Ḍāhirī, not necessarily for the sake of correctness, but rather for the sake of ease of identification because of his popularity by this form of name.

2. In this article, the term Maqama (as an English word) is used when we refer to the genre as a whole or the entire book. When we are dealing with a single chapter of the book of Maqama, the Arabic word maqāma (and its plural form maqāmāt) is used.

3. Ratzaby estimates that al-Ḍāhirī was born between the years of 1516 and 1519 and speculates that the year of his death was between 1581 and 1585. See Ratzaby, 1965: 41.

4. See Amir, 2005: 459.

5. Sefer ha-musar should be translated as the Book of belles-lettres, an equivalent to adab in Arabic. We prefer the usage of belles-lettres or adab to that of ethics, which is a literal translation of the Hebrew word musar, by taking into consideration the meaning of the Arabic word adab in that age, especially when it comes to the title of the book we study here. The term adab was related to some restricted representations in the Islamic Middle Ages, after its meaning had already been narrowed among pre-Islamic Arabs. As a call for a meal, Ṭarafa ibn al-ʻAbd, for example, says: «Even in winter, we invite the public to eat, and no one among us (’ādib) does not make any exception regarding whom to invite». See Nāṣir al-Dīn, 2002: 43. After Islam, the term was used for politeness, as appears in the prophet’s words: «My Lord perfected my good manners and conduct (’addabanī … ta’dībī)». Later in the Middle Ages, the term acquired new indications including all types of written knowledge such as religious, linguistic, literary, and natural sciences. Some used the term especially for stories, wisdoms, proverbs, and wisdom poems with rhetorical traits. The term appears in many of the Arab works from the medieval era, such as al-’adab al-kabīr and al-’adab al- ṣaghīr by Ibn al-Muqaffa‘, kitāb al-’adab by Ibn al-Mu‘tazz, zahr al-’ādāb by al-Ḥusarī, ’adab al-dunyā wal-dīn by al-Māwardī, and ādāb al-falāsifa by Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq. The best evidence justifying our understanding of the word musar in this sense comes from a medieval translator and writer Yehuda al-Ḥarīzī, who used it in his Hebrew translation of the book ’ādāb al-falāsifa by Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq, under the title of Musre ha-philosofim. See Ratzaby,1965: 9, 298; Tanenbaum, 2003: 317, note 31; Tanenbaum, 2022: 196. For an important discussion of the genre of musar or adab in medieval Hebrew narrative works in Spain dealing with the themes of wine, traveling, and wisdom, see Torollo, 2021: 31–49.

6. Brody, 1894: 9–14.

7. Ratzaby,1965: 23.

8. In 2008, the work was again published in an allegedly «new» edition by Mordechai Yitzhari based on a manuscript available at his hands; the editor claims himself to belong to al-Ḍāhirī’s family. See Yitzhari, 2008.

9. There are some basic principles of Maqama that came to be known since it emerged in Arabic literature by means of maqāmāt of Badī‘ al-Zamān al-Hamadhānī and of al-Ḥarīrī al-Baṣrī. The most important principles are: a) The two main characters are maintained throughout the collection of maqāmāt, namely the narrator who tells stories and the protagonist who performs adventures and dramatic tricks. b) Individual incidents occur only within the framework of each maqāma, as it usually starts with a preface, mostly concerning the travel from one place to another. c) The subject of Maqama is mostly related to fraud or social criticism by means of the protagonist’s disguise in a certain character. d) In the concluding part, the identity of the protagonist and the objective of each maqāma are revealed. Only those works written according to these principles can be called classical Maqama and are distinguished from other works that ignore some, or even most of these principles. Arie Schippers says in this regard: «In Hebrew literature, other stories and narrative pieces in rhymed prose are called maqāmāt even though they do not contain the scheme of the Arabic classical maqāma of al-Hamadhānī and al-Ḥarīrī». See Schippers, 2002a: 87; Schippers, 2002b: 302.

10. Many historical studies based on Sefer ha-musar were written in Hebrew. See, for example, Fischel, 1980: 11–12; Klein-Franke, 1981: 43; Klein-Franke, 1984: 91, 98.

11. Adena Tanenbaum states regarding this matter: «it is often impossible to know whether a particular detail in this inventive literary work is real or imaginary». See Tanenbaum, 2005: 262; Tanenbaum, 2015: 34–35. For a discussion of imagination and reality in the Hebrew Maqama in general, see Pagis,1978: 79–98; Brann, 2002: 140, note 3. For a question of the real and the imagined in the Jewish travel accounts written between the mid-twelfth and the early sixteenth centuries (not including al-Ḍāhirī), see Jacobs, 2014: 9–10, 43.

12. For a comparative and typological study of the genre of Maqama in Hebrew, Arabic, and other languages, see Katsumata, 2002: 117–137.

13. See Decter, 2007: 189–190.

14. Abū al-Faḍl ’Aḥmad ibn al-Ḥusayn ibn Yaḥya Badī‘ al-Zamān al-Hamadhānī was born in Hamadan, moved around extensively among the countries of Persia, and was popular because of his maqāmāt. He is considered the first to have written a complete book of Maqama. Most writers of Maqama adopted his approach. He wrote also a dīwān of poems and epistles. See al-Zarkalī, 2002: 115–116.

15. Al-Hamadhānī, 2005: 7. For an English translation, see Prendergast, 1915: 26.

16. Kilito, 1983: 19. See also Hämeen-Anttila, 2002: 53–54.

17. Al-Qāsim ibn ‘Alī ibn Muḥammad ibn ‘Uthmān ibn al-Ḥarīrī abū Muḥammad al-Baṣrī was born and died in Basra. He, too, was intelligent and eloquent, and his most important work was his maqāmāt. See al-Ḥamawī, 1993: 2202–2216.

18. Cooperson, 2020a: 7. For an English translation, see Chenery, 1867: 108. See also Cooperson, 2020b: 13.

19. Muḥammad ibn Yūsuf ibn ‘Abdallah ibn Yūsuf al-Tamīmī al-Māzinī abū al-Tāhir, known as Ibn al-Ashtarkūnī, was born in Zaragoza and died in Cordoba. He imitated al-Ḥarīrī’s maqāmāt and gave his own 50 maqāmāt the name al-maqāmāt al-luzūmiyya, in which he made clear what was unnecessary in prose and poetry. See al-Zarkalī, 2002, vol. 7: 149.

20. Al-Saraqustī, 2006: 65. For an English translation, see Monroe, 2002: 149.

21. There was debate among researchers concerning the dates of his birth and death until the issue was clarified by the discovery of an important manuscript attributed to one of his contemporaries, al-Mubārak ibn al-Sha‘‘ār al-Mawṣilī, who writes about «a Jewish Yaḥyā ibn Sulaymān ibn Shā’ūl abū Zakaryā al-Ḥarīzī». Depending on Ibn Sha‘‘ār’s manuscript, Yosef Sadan showed that al-Ḥarīzī was born in 1165 somewhere in al-Andalus and died in Syria in 1225. Al-Ḥarīzī lived for a long time in al-Andalus and used to move from one place to another. He was popular in Southern France as a translator of Arabic works into Hebrew, until he left for the East and traveled there during the last ten years of his life. The most important of his works are Taḥkemoni, Sefer ha-‘anaq or the Book of necklace, Sefer ha-goralot or the Book of destiny, and Kitāb al-durar or the Book of pearls. For further details, see Sadan, 1996: 16–76; Sadan, 2002: 105–151; al-Mawṣilī, 2005: 257.

22. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 351. The twenty-eighth maqāma in Recension A is the thirty-eighth in Recension B. For an English translation, see Reichert, 1973: 235; Segal, 2002: 294.

23. We excluded from our discussion another full-fledged classical Hebrew Maqama, usually counted as such along with al-Ḥarīzī’s and al-Ḍāhirī’s, namely Maḥberot immanuel by Immanuel ha-Romi (ca. 1261–1335), since travel does not necessarily open each maqāma in this work.

24. Maqama numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, and 48.

25. Muḥammad Abdu, 2005: 7; Prendergast, 1915: 26.

26. Muḥammad Abdu, 2005: 46; Prendergast, 1915: 46.

27. Muḥammad Abdu, 2005: 122; Prendergast, 1915: 88.

28. Maqama numbers 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, and 50.

29. Cooperson, 2020a: 7; Chenery, 1867: 108; Cooperson, 2020b: 13.

30. Cooperson, 2020a: 19; Chenery, 1867: 121; Cooperson, 2020b: 38.

31. Cooperson, 2020a: 190; F. Steingass, 1898: 71; Cooperson, 2020b: 326.

32. Maqama numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 48, and 49.

33. al-Warāklī, 2006: 401; Monroe, 2002: 431.

34. See Decter, 2007: 192–193.

35. al-Warāklī, 2006: 33; Monroe, 2002: 125.

36. al-Warāklī, 2006: 244; Monroe, 2002: 291.

37. al-Warāklī, 2006: 336; Monroe, 2002: 370.

38. Maqama numbers according to Recension A (Recension B in parentheses) 1(1), 2(2), 3(3), 4(14), 5(13), 7(8), 9(21), 10(10), 12(18), 13(20), 15(23), 16(28), 17(29), 20(11), 21(44), 22(15), 23(35), 24(22), 25(34), 26(31), 27(26), 28(38), 29(6), 30(24), 32(7), 33(39), 34(41), 37(43), 38(47), 39(46), 40(33), 41(45), 43(30), 45(19), 46(36), 47(25), 48(48), 49(49), and 50(50).

39. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 103; Reichert,1965: 70; Segal, 2002: 39.

40. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 153; Reichert, 1965: 136; Segal, 2002: 86.

41. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 345; Reichert, 1973: 129; Segal, 2002: 228.

42. Maqama numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44, and 45.

43. Ratzaby, 1965: 64.

44. Ratzaby, 1965: 100.

45. Ratzaby, 1965: 253.

46. However, it should be noted that this second type of travel can be found in the non-traditional Arabic Maqama that developed in al-Andalus and other places. See Sharqawy, 2014: 25–26. For example, travel is employed as the main subject matter in an eleventh-century Andalusian Maqama written by Abū Ḥafṣ ‘Umar ibn al-Shahīd, part of which appears in Ibn Bassām’s famous anthology. See ‘Abbās, 1997, vol. 1, part 2: 674–685; Sharqawy, 2014: 90–96. Travel accounts also appear frequently in several writings by Lisān al-Dīn ibn al-Khaṭīb (1313–1374), especially in his Maqama-like composition mi‘yār al-ikhtiyār fī dhikr al-ma‘āhid wal-diyār. See Mu’nis, 1986: 580–588. When it comes to Hebrew and Jewish literature, travel literature comprises various subgenres, not only of travelogues such as the Travels of Rabbi Petachia of Regensburg, the Travels of Binyamin of Tudela, and Yehuda al-Ḥarīzī’s Kitāb al-Durar, but also personal letters describing journeys or travel diaries. Perhaps, it is also worth regarding a travel Maqama as one of the subgenres of this broad travel literature.

47. This number is according to Recension B. See, for example, Toporovsky, 1952: 344–366.

48. This number is according to Recension A. See Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 433–457. Compare Leicht, 2022: 18–25. Regarding al-Ḥarīzī’s descriptions of Yosef ibn Shime‘on in this maqāma, at least, Leicht «sees version A as the better-informed iteration of the text, which might also reflect later developments» (page 21) and «is easily tempted to believe that version A […] represent later stages than […] version B» (page 25).

49. Yahalom - Blau, 2003: 47–187.

50. Blau - Yahalom et al, 2009: 26–36.

51. Ratzaby, 1965: 417–422.

52. The thirty-second in Recension A is the seventh in Recension B. See Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 387; Reichert, 1965: 129; Segal, 2002: 81. The same combination of place names (Persia, Meshekh, Tiras) also appears in the twelfth maqāma (the eighteenth in Recension B): «the communities of Persia and Meshekh and Tiras». See Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 217; Reichert, 1973: 56; Segal, 2002: 180.

53. First, there is no proof that al-Ḥarīzī visited Persia, as it is evident from Kitāb al-durar in which al-Ḥarīzī apparently described his real travel. Second, the places of his alleged destination are not clear at all. According to Jewish sources, there is no definite place in which both Meshekh and Tiras, sons of Yefet (cf. Gen 10:2), lived. Moreover, it is also possible that al-Ḥarīzī may only have chosen these places in order to keep the rhyme: paras (= Perisia) and tiras. See also Rand, 2018: 18–19.

54. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 16.

55. See Tanenbaum, 2017: 152–153.

56. Ratzaby, 1965: 201.

57. Al-Ḍāhirī uses the Hebrew word medina, not only in the Hebrew original meaning of «country»,but also in the meaning of «city», as in Arabic.

58. Ratzaby, 1965: 116.

59. Ratzaby, 1965: 373.

60. Ratzaby, 1978: 59–60.

61. Ratzaby, 1965: 28.

62. Ratzaby is of the opinion that the order of these sentences should be as follows: when God caused me to wander from my father’s house in the lands of India, Basra, and Iraq, and the fire of exile burned inside me to the extent of madness.

63. Ratzaby does not succeed in identifying this place’s name, but, in our opinion, it can be identified as the city of al-Ṣalīf in Yemen, located near the southern reaches of the Red Sea. The city is popular because of its old harbor, and it looks like a tongue stretching into the Red Sea, surrounded by water from three sides. See al-Maqḥafī, 2002: 917–918.

64. Ratzaby, 1965: 287. For a very free translation of this passage, see Münz-Manor, 2019: 56.

65. Ratzaby, 1965: 463. For an English translation of this passage, see Tanenbaum, 2007: 184–185.

66. An Indian city on the south-western coast of India. Its popularity as a center of trade resulted from its famous port. During the Middle Ages, it was known as mādīnat al-tawābil, which is an important city in the trade of spices. See al-Mashhadānī,2015: 99.

67. Kochi or Cochin is an Indian city in the Indian state of Kerala on the south-western coast of India. It is considered the most important port in the country. It is nicknamed the queen of the Arabian Sea. See Government of Kerala, State Annual Action Plan 2015–16, 38.

68. The Hebrew text has: kush, which is usually identified with ḥabash, Ethiopia. But this identification cannot be accepted here, either logically or geographically. It is impossible to visit India and Ethiopia at the same time because they are in different directions from Yemen. Ratzaby supposes that the meaning of the word kush here should be Kochi in India, which is mentioned again later in this passage as medinat kushi, the city of Kochi. It seems that al-Ḍāhirī wrote the word in this way kush for the sake of the rhyme with the last word of the following sentence u-rekhush. See Ratzaby, 1965 :130, note 2.

69. The eastern mountainous region of Yemen, including Sanaa and its suburbs. See Alnaddaf, 1928: 6.

70. Ratzaby, 1965: 130.

71. Ratzaby, 1965: 327.

72. Ratzaby, 1965: 90.

73. Ratzaby, 1965: 145.

74. Ratzaby, 1965: 28.

75. Ratzaby, 1965: 431. On the other hand, al-Ḍāhirī mentions the opposite direction. In the twenty-first maqāma, he says that he arrived in Bursa aboard the ship from porvitza. Ratzaby thinks that it can be identified with the city of Prèveza, a sea city on the western side of Greece. See Ratzaby, 1965: 240.

76. Ratzaby, 1965: 29, note 2 (below).

77. To mention but a few, al-Ḍāhirī opens his first maqāma by mentioning his travel from Alexandria in Egypt to Mount Hermon, and then to Damascus. In the following second maqāma, his itinerary is from Egypt to Yemen, and in the third maqāma, from Iraq to Erbil, and so on in most of his maqāmāt. This negates any link between the arrangement of places that he visited and the arrangement of different maqāmāt.

78. See maqāmāt 10, 14, 27, 39.

79. Al-Ḍāhirī mentions his travel from Syria to Palestine in several places; most notable is his saying in the sixth maqāma: «I traveled from the land of Syria, via the Upper Galilee, to the city of Safed». See Ratzaby, 1965: 116.

80. In determining the date of al-Ḍāhirī’s visit to Palestine, Ratzaby relies on pieces of evidence taken from the Maqama of al-Ḍāhirī himself. The most important piece of evidence is the date set by al-Ḍāhirī in 1562 when he described the rabbis of Safed and Tiberias (the twenty-fifth maqāma, Ratzaby, 1965: 287). At the outset, Ratzaby accepts this date and comments that «his visit in 1562 does not bear the slightest doubt because al-Ḍāhirī mentions in his twenty-fifth maqāma the names of the rabbis Cordovero and Caro without the honorific for the dead ZL, may he rest in peace. Indeed, Cordovero died in 1570 and Caro in 1575». But Ratzaby comes back and wonders whether the number for the year that al-Ḍāhirī uses in Hebrew letters (H-K-B-Sh) is to be counted according to the calculation system of perat gadol, in which the thousands are also included, or according to the calculation system of perat qatan without including the thousands. If we count it according to the perat gadol system, the sum of H = 5000, K = 20, B = 2 and Sh = 300 is Anno Mundi 5322, which is equivalent to Anno Domini 1562. However, if we count it according to the perat qatan system, the sum of H = 5, K = 20, B = 2 and Sh = 300 is AM (5)327, which is equivalent with AD 1567. Ratzaby seems to think that the calculation according to the perat gadol system should be used here, because this is the very system employed by al-Ḍāhirī himself regarding other dates mentioned in his Maqama, and also because this date of his visit to Palestine (1562) does not contradict the statement of al-Ḍāhirī elsewhere that the harsh pogrom against the Yemeni Jews (1568) happened five years after he had returned from Palestine. On the other hand, this calculation collides with another reality noted by al-Ḍāhirī, in which he describes his travel to Palestine and the yeshiva in Tiberias and its rabbis. It is known that the wall of Tiberias started to be built at the end of 1563 and was completed in the month of Kislev in 1568. Ratzhaby asks how al-Ḍāhirī in 1562 could describe the yeshiva, which was built after 1565. For this problem, Ratzhaby presents two possible solutions. The first solution (according to Avraham Yaari) is to suppose that al-Ḍāhirī violated his own method of calculating the years according to the perat gadol system and employed here the perat qatan system, according to which his visit to Palestine must have been in 1567. But this assumption collides now with the above-mentioned statement of al-Ḍāhirī that the pogrom in Yemen in 1568 was five years after. The second solution (according to Yosef Braslavsky) is to suppose that al-Ḍāhirī visited Palestine twice: the first time in 1562 and the second after being released from imprisonment in 1573. The description of the yeshiva and its rabbis in Tiberias must have been made during his second visit. However, this second assumption also has a serious problem. It contradicts the fact that al-Ḍāhirī states that the injustice and suffering that he had experienced during the severe pogrom of 1568 in Yemen were due to his own guilt of leaving the land of Israel. Why then would he return again to Yemen after his second visit to Palestine (if indeed he visited it for a second time)? For more details, see Ratzaby, 1965: 31. Despite all these painstaking efforts to solve any contradictions that might be found in al-Ḍāhirī’s description of «historical» events in his Maqama, they do not always provide us a convincing solution, which inevitably leads us to reconsider the nature of the text in question. What we are dealing with is not a purely historical text, but a literary text that belongs to the art of Maqama, created by the first authors of the genre based on tales woven with their imagination. These tales may sometimes include indications or facts related to the reality of their time and society, but sometimes they are simply in the realm of fiction. Hence comes the idea of researching the place of al-Ḍāhirī’s travel accounts between reality and fiction.

81. Maqama numbers 6, 7, 12, 22, 23, 24, 28, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 42, and 45.

82. Maqama numbers 6, 7, 12, and 39.

83. Ratzaby, 1965: 365.

84. Ratzaby, 1965: 116.

85. Ratzaby, 1965: 124.

86. Ratzaby, 1965: 165.

87. Ratzaby, 1965: 278.

88. Ratzaby, 1965: 418.

89. See Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 216: «I traveled from the land of Memphis (nof) to Jerusalem (yefe nof)».

90. Ratzaby, 1965: 365.

91. Ratzaby, 1965: 32.

92. The expression yoshev ben tannur ve-khirayim is already found in the Talmud (ta‘anit 30a–b), meaning «sitting in a very despised place». Here the meaning is as Ratzaby understands: «in trouble and distress». See Ratzaby, 1965: 418. See also See Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 179, 261.

93. Ratzaby, 1965: 418.

94. The same expression ben tannur ve-khirayim is understood here by Ratzaby differently, as a metaphor for the hot climate of Egypt at this time. See Ratzaby, 1965: 287. We are of the opinion that it should be understood the same way as above.

95. Ratzaby, 1965: 287.

96. Ratzaby, 1965: 64.

97. See Ḍayf, 1956: 27.

98. Al-Ḍāhirī’s Maqama was and continues to be an important source for Jewish historians, as they can learn about the conditions of their people in Yemen in a bygone era, which are obscure due to the scarcity of historical sources for the situation of the Yemeni Jews in that period. When we take into consideration this dependence that Jewish historians have had upon the materials from the Maqama of al-Ḍāhirī, there is something in their claims that we can accept, but also something we should disagree with or reject. What is acceptable here is, in our view, what corresponds to other historical sources and does not contradict either the geography of places or the logic of reason. See Tanenbaum, 2011: 243: «Although Sefer ha-Musar is a literary, belletristic work that interweaves fictional and realistic elements, scholars have been tempted to approach the text as though it were a documentary record from which ‘factual’ information can be elicited. In large measure, this is due to the paucity of historical sources for Yemenite Jewish life in the sixteenth century».

99. Qoraḥ,1954: 5.

100. Goitein, 1983: 6–7.

101. Ratzaby, 1965: 51.

102. Maqama numbers 2, 11, 12, 15, 17, and 20.

103. Al-Muṭahhar ibn Sharaf al-Dīn (1503–1572), a Yemeni Zaydī ’Imām, rebelled against his father al-’Imām al-Mutawakkil Yaḥya Sharaf al-Dīn, who ruled large parts of Yemen in the thirties and forties of the fifteenth century. He entered Sanaa in 1546, declared himself ’imām, and fought long wars against the Ottomans. He was known for treason and vetoing covenants, cruelty of heart, and brutality in killing prisoners and abusing them. See al-Kabsī, 2005: 239–267; al-Batūl, 2006: 192–193.

104. Ratzaby, 1965: 166.

105. Al-Kabsī, 2005: 267; al-Wāsi‘ī, 1927: 51.

106. Ratzaby, 1965: 33.

107. Al-Ḍāhirī pointed out this matter through the second hemistich of a line of a poem, which he singled out, apparently, for what happened to the Jews at the hands of al-Muṭahhar, by saying: «and the Ottomans (edom) camped in their (Jews’) dwellings, but they did not reject that».See Ratzaby, 1965: 71. The Ottomans apparently maintained a close relationship with the Jews when they returned to Yemen again in the 19th century. According to Todor Parfitt: «the Ottomans punished those who threw stones at Jews or he who pulls their sidelocks in the street».See Tudor Parfitt, 1996: 88.

108. Ratzaby, 1965: 69, 72, 166, 419.

109. Ratzaby, 1965: 33, note 1.

110. al-Makkī, 1967: 95.

111. Al-Kabsī, 2005: 239–267; Al-Wāsi‘ī, 1927: 51; al-Shawkānī, 1929: 309–310.

112. Al-Ḍāhirī says in the sixteenth maqāma: «We spent six years in prison». See Ratzaby, 1965: 195.

113. Ratzaby, 1965: 426.

114. Ratzaby, 1965: 463.

115. Ratzaby, 1965: 53.

116. Ratzaby, 1965: 51.

117. Ratzaby, 1965: 51.

118. Ratzaby, 1965: 51.

119. Ratzaby, 1965: 52.

120. Ratzaby, 1965: 53.

121. Ratzaby, 1965: 52.

122. Al-Ḍāhirī used to talk about the conditions of Jews in cities and countries mentioned in his Maqama, in terms of their religious, social, and sometimes moral status, which gives this book such a significant position among scholars that they have adopted it as a major historical source. This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that based on al-Ḍāhirī’s mention of the demographic situation of Jews in the Indian city of Kochi, Naphtali Bar-Giorah accepted this statement in his study. See Bar-Giorah, 1957: 246.

123. Ratzaby, 1965: 130.

124. See Se‘adya Gaon’s commentary on Gen 10:30 (bo’akha sefara har ha-qedem): «sefaramedina, har ha-qedemal-jabal al-sharqī», and Yemenite midrash «nūr al-ẓalām»: bo’akha sefara har ha-qedem – hu al-jabal al-sharqī, ve-hiya san‘ā’ wa-bilādha). Against the opinion of Se‘adya Gaon that Sefara is Medina and that of the midrash that it is Sanaa, Ratzaby is of the opinion that it should be identified with Aden, a coastal city. See Ratzaby, 1965: 130, note 3. In our opinion, this identification is not very convincing, because Aden does not have any «eastern» mountain.

125. Al-Ḍāhirī refers to Ethiopia as kush in his last maqāma when he talks about the path of his last travel, where he arrived in Egypt and Ethiopia and ended his travel in his homeland, Yemen. See Ratzaby, 1965: 463.

126. Ratzaby, 1965: 138.

127. Ratzaby, 1965: 222.

128. Ḍayf, 1956: 27. The psychological aspect of the medieval traveler in particular, and the entire mindset and worldview of individuals in the medieval period as reflected in travel narratives were addressed by a Dutch historian Johan Huizinga (1872–1945) and a Russian medievalist historian Aron Gurevich (1924–2006) in many of their works.

129. Ratzaby, 1978: 71–72. See also Tanenbaum, 2005: 115.

130. Ratzaby, 1965: 100.

131. Ratzaby, 1965: 20. Al-Ḍāhirī’s fifth maqāma revolves around tales about animals that he created in the form of short stories drawn from the fox fables. They are: The Dog and the Ass, The Frog and the Mouse, The Lion and the Mouse, and The Sick Lion.

132. Avitzur, 1962: 48.

133. Ratzaby, 1965: 116. See also Tanenbaum, 2008: 358–364.

134. Davidson, 2010: 117.

135. Davidson, 2010: 120. See also Tanenbaum, 2009: 60–61.

136. Ratzaby, 1965: 277.

137. Ratzaby, 1965: 253.

138. Ratzaby, 1965: 365.

139. Yahalom - Katsumata, 2010: 261; Reichert, 1973: 143; Segal, 2002: 238.

140. Ratzaby, 1965: 365.

141. Ratzaby, 1965: 190.

142. Ratzaby, 1965: 124.

143. Ratzaby, 1965: 165.

144. Ratzaby, 1965: 287.

145. Ratzaby, 1965: 365.

146. Ratzaby, 1965: 59.

147. Maritime is the name of an area in southern Iraq located on the Arabian Gulf. See Sukenik - Cassuto et al, 1978, entziklopedya miqra’it, vol. 5, 1978: 480.

148. Ratzaby, 1965: 409.

149. For further research, we should investigate this phenomenon against the background of various developments and changes that the genre of Arabic Maqama itself underwent in al-Andalus, such as in the works of Ibn al-Shahīd and Lisān al-Dīn (referred to above), and also in the contemporary Yemenite Arabic Maqama. See, Tanenbaum, 2022: 213–214.