TABARAK PRIVATE SCHOOL

GRADE 12 BILINGUAL
ENGLISH LANGUAGE HANDOUTS

A Handful of Dates is a short story published, originally in Arabic in 1964, in a

collection of stories by El Tayeb Salih called The Wedding of Zein. The action
of this story, as with many of the stories written by El Tayeb Salih, occurs in
the fictional setting of the village of Wad Hamid, which is in Central Sudan.
This short story is told through the eyes of a young boy as he experiences an
epiphany, a critical moment of awareness that perhaps marks his passage
from a child to an adult.

I must have been very young at the time. While I don’t remember exactly how old I was,
I do remember that when people saw me with my grandfather they would pat me on the
head and give my cheek a pinch – things they didn’t do to my grandfather. The strange
thing was that I never used to go out with my father; rather, it was my grandfather who
would take me with him wherever he went, except for the mornings, when I would go to
the mosque to learn the Koran. The mosque, the river, and the fields – these were the
landmarks in our life. While most of the children of my age grumbled at having to go to
the mosque to learn the Koran, I used to love it. The reason was, no doubt, that I was
quick at learning by heart and the Sheik always asked me to stand up and recite the
Chapter of the Merciful whenever we had visitors, who would pat me on my head and
cheek just as people did when they saw me with my grandfather.

Yes, I used to love the mosque, and I loved the river, too. Directly we finished our
Koran reading in the morning I would throw down my wooden slate and dart off, quick
as a genie, to my mother, hurriedly swallow down my breakfast, and run off for a
plunge in the river. When tired of swimming about, I would sit on the bank and gaze
at the strip of water that wound away eastwards, and hid behind a thick wood of
acacia trees. I loved to give rein to my imagination and picture myself a tribe of giants
living behind that wood, a people tall and thin with white beards and sharp noses, like
my grandfather. Before my grandfather ever replied to my many questions, he would
rub the tip of his nose with his forefinger; as for his beard, it was soft and luxuriant
and as white as cotton wool – never in my life have I seen anything of a purer
whiteness or greater beauty. My grandfather must also have been extremely tall, for

TPS English Language Handouts 1 Prepared by T.P.Muneer

I never saw anyone in the whole area address him without having him look up at him,
nor did I see him enter a house without having to bend so low that I was put in mind
of the way the river wound round behind the wood of acacia trees. I loved him and
would imagine myself, when I grew to be a man, tall and slender like him, walking
along with great strides.

I believe I was his favourite grandchild: no wonder, for my cousins were a stupid
bunch and I – so they say – was an intelligent child. I used to know when my
grandfather wanted me to laugh, when to be silent; also, I would remember the times
for his prayers and would bring him his prayer rug and fill the ewer for his ablutions
without his having to ask me. When he had nothing else to do he enjoyed listening to
me reciting to him from the Koran in a lilting voice, and I could tell from his face that
he was moved.
One day I asked him about our neighbour, Masood. I said to my grandfather: “I fancy you
don’t like our neighbour, Masood?”
To which he answered, having rubbed the tip of his nose: “He’s an indolent man and I
don’t like such people.”
I said to him: “What’s an indolent man?”

My grandfather lowered his head for a moment; then, looking across the wide expanse
of field, he said: “Do you see it stretching out from the edge of the desert up to the Nile
bank? A hundred feddans. Do you see all those date palms? And those trees – sant, acacia,
and sayal? All this fell into Masood’s lap, was inherited by him from his father.”

Taking advantage of the silence that had descended on my grandfather, I turned my gaze
from him to the vast area defined by words. I don’t care, I told myself, who owns those
date palms, those trees or this black, cracked earth – all I know is that it’s the arena for
my dreams and my playground. My grandfather then continued: “Yes, my boy, forty years
ago all this belonged to Masood – two-thirds of it is now mine.”

This was news for me, for I had imagined that the land had belonged to my grandfather
ever since God’s Creation.

“I didn’t own a single feddan when I first set foot in this village. Masood was then the
owner of all these riches. The position had changed now, though, and I think that before
Allah calls me to Him I shall have bought the remaining third as well.”

I do not know why it was I felt fear at my grandfather’s words – and pity for our neighbour,
Masood. How I wished my grandfather wouldn’t do what he’d said! I remembered
Masood’s singing, his beautiful voice and powerful laugh that resembled the gurgling of
water. My grandfather never laughed. I asked my grandfather why Masood had sold his
land.

TPS English Language Handouts 2 Prepared by T.P.Muneer

“Women,” and from the way my grandfather pronounced the word I felt that women was
something terrible. “Masood, my boy, was a much-married man. Each time he married
he sold me a feddan or two.” I made the quick calculation that Masood must have married
some ninety women. Then I remembered his three wives, his shabby appearance, his
lame donkey and its dilapidated saddle, his galabia with the torn sleeves. I had all but rid
my mind of the thoughts that jostled in it when I saw the man approaching us, and my
grandfather and I exchanged glances.

“We’ll be harvesting the dates today,” said Masood. “Don’t you want to be there?”

I felt though, that he did not really want my grandfather to attend. My grandfather,
however, jumped to his feet and I saw that his eyes sparkled momentarily with an intense
brightness. He pulled me by the hand and we went off to the harvesting of Masood’s
dates.

Someone brought my grandfather a stool covered with an oxhide, while I remained

standing. There was a vast number of people there, but though I knew them all, I found
myself for some reason watching Masood: aloof from that great gathering of people he
stood as though it were no concern of his, despite the fact that the date palms to be
harvested were his own. Sometimes his attention would be caught by the sound of a huge
clump of dates crashing down from on high. Once he shouted up at the boy perched on
the very summit of the date palm who had begun hacking at a clump with his long, sharp
sickle: “Be careful you don’t cut the heart of the palm!”

No one paid any attention to what he said and the boy seated at the very summit of the
date palm continued, quickly and energetically, to work away at the branch with his sickle
till the clump of dates began to drop like something descending from the heavens.

I, however, had begun to think about Masood’s phrase, the heart of the palm. I pictured
the palm tree as something with feeling, something possessed of a heart that throbbed. I
remembered Masood’s remark to me when he had once seen me playing with the branch
of a young palm tree: “Palm trees, my boy, like humans, experience joy and suffering.”
And I had felt an inward and unreasoned embarrassment.

When I again looked at the expanse of ground stretching before me I saw my young
companions swarming like ants around the trunks of the palm trees, gathering up dates
and eating most of them. The dates were collected into high mounds. I saw people coming
along and weighing them into measuring bins and pouring them into sacks, of which I
counted thirty. The crowd of people broke up, except for Hussein, the merchant; Mousa,
the owner of the field next to ours on the east, and two men I’d never seen before.

TPS English Language Handouts 3 Prepared by T.P.Muneer

I heard a low whistling sound and saw that my grandfather had fallen asleep. Then I
noticed that Masood had not changed his stance, except that he had placed a stalk in his
mouth and was munching at it like someone sated with food who doesn’t know what to
do with the mouthful he still has.

Suddenly my grandfather woke up, jumped to his feet, and walked toward the sacks of
dates. He was followed by Hussein, Mousa and the two strangers. I glanced at Masood
and saw that he was making his way toward us with extreme slowness, like a man who
wants to retreat but whose feet insist on going forward. They formed a circle around the
sacks of dates and began examining them, some taking a date or two to eat. My
grandfather gave me a fistful, which I began munching. I saw Masood filling the palms of
both hands with dates and bringing them up close to his nose, then returning them.

Then I saw them dividing up the sacks between them. Hussein the merchant took ten;
each of the strangers took five. Mousa, the owner of the field next to ours on the eastern
side, took five, and my grandfather took five. Understanding nothing, I looked at Masood
and saw that his eyes were darting to left and right like two mice that have lost their way
home.

“You’re still fifty pounds in debt to me,” said my grandfather to Masood. “We’ll talk about
it later.”

Hussein called his assistants and they brought along the donkeys, the two strangers
produced camels, and the sacks of dates were loaded onto them. One of the donkeys let
out a braying which set the camels frothing at the mouth and complaining noisily. I felt
myself drawing close to Masood, felt my hand stretch out toward him as though I wanted
to touch the hem of his garment. I heard him make a noise in his throat like the rasping
of a sheep being slaughtered. For some unknown reason, I experienced a sharp sensation
of pain in my chest.

I ran off into the distance. Hearing my grandfather call after me, I hesitated a little, then
continued on my way. I felt at that moment that I hated him. Quickening my pace, it was
as though I carried within me a secret I wanted to rid myself of. I reached the riverbank
near the bend it made behind the wood of acacia trees. Then, without knowing why, I put
my finger into my throat and spewed up the dates I’d eaten.
Questions

1. What does the grandfather explain about the land he now owns and his plans for
the future? What does the narrator remember about Masood then?
2. Explain the significance of the narrator’s action in the final paragraph.
3. What qualities make someone a good businessperson? Can a person who is good
at business also be compassionate? Explain.

TPS English Language Handouts 4 Prepared by T.P.Muneer

A Handful of Dates by El Tayeb Salih

1. How does the narrative perspective of the story affect the plot and the reader?
Motivate your answer. Write at least 80 words.

The story is written in the first-person narrative with a restricted view, as it is told
by a man who recounts a life-changing event that happened when he was a young,
inexperienced boy. As a result, the reader experiences everything only as the boy
lives through it and they are unable to enter the minds of the other characters to
examine their motivations and attitudes. However, the story is still a strong one
because the reader lives through the epiphany as if he / she is the boy, making the
event a far more impactful and impressive one. Because of the restricted first-
person narrative, the plot remains mysterious until the moment of the epiphany,
and the reader experiences this moment of utter clarity along with the narrator.

2. Describe what type of man Masood is, and why the narrator admires or likes him.
Write at least 40 – 50 words.

Masood is a carefree, happy, forgiving and sensitive man. He is not materialistic

at all, but finds pleasure in the growing of his dates and in his family. He is
very similar to the young boy, and this is why the boy likes him. He doesn’t realise
it at the time, but he sees a kindred spirit in Masood, someone who is as kind,
sympathetic and imaginative as he is.

3. What epiphany does the narrator experience which causes him to view his
grandfather in a different light? Explain your answer. Write at least 40 words.

The boy comes to realise that his grandfather is not the man he thought he was.
He sees him in a new, harsh light when he realises that he is a materialistic man
who seems to have no mercy in him for his fellow man. The boy realises that his
grandfather is a judgmental man with a narrow mind, and this creates a huge rift
between them. (Use discretion.)

TPS English Language Handouts 5 Prepared by T.P.Muneer