Request for Assistance

The Sister of Yeshu‘a ibn Ismā‘īl al-Makhmūrī

Mid-11th Century

About This Entry

The unnamed sister of Yeshu‘a ibn Ismā‘īl al-Makhmūrī sent this Judeo-Arabic letter from Tripoli, Syria (now Lebanon), to request financial assistance from her brother. As was commonly done by both women and men, this letter was dictated to a scribe, as can be seen in its conclusion, where the scribe, ‘Alūsh, interjects with his own greetings. The sister, a widow, has suffered a series of financial and familial setbacks, some of which she hints at in this text.

My dear brother, may God lengthen your remaining days and make permanent your peace and your happiness, and may He not be ungenerous in bestowing His good fortune upon you. I am writing to you, my dear brother, in the middle of the month of Elul, in a state of peace and good health. But I long for you—may God hasten our reunion under the best [possible] circumstances. My dear brother, you know I have no one but you and God to watch over me. The Creator will not fail me by having you turn your visage away from me. My brother, this whole year we have waited for a letter from you that we might know of your circumstances. But a number of letters arrived in Tripoli, and yet we did not see your letter among them. I finally went out and discovered that people were saying you are weak from illness—and I went out of my mind! I swore I would not eat during the day, nor change my robe, nor enter a bathhouse—neither myself nor my daughter—until a letter from you arrived to inform us of your situation. In the end, ships came to Tripoli, and I went out—my hand on my heart—because of what I might hear about your circumstances. Finally, the people disembarked from the ship and informed us that you are well. I praised God and gave thanks to Him for your health and well- being, and this favorable outcome. God thus comforted us concerning your situation and ceased distressing us over your circumstances.

You know, my brother, that I have no one besides you and God. I was waiting for your letters, but nothing arrived. My brother, we did not see—I swear on my father’s [life]—greetings from you even in your letter to your son Tammām. This caused me suffering. If I told you, oh my brother, what happened this year—even then, my brother, it would not be the same as witnessing [my suffering]. We had a difficult winter: the [price] of wheat reached four madd [a unit of dry measure] for a quarter dinar; a raṭl [a unit of dry or liquid measure] of charcoal went for a dirham. What could be done, my brother, such that we might be strong and resist [fate]? By the truth of these letters [I am writing now], we endured a day and then fifteen more without eating bread and without ground grain. When I would see the baker pass, I would say, “May the person who touches the bread or eats it fall down.” Tammām—may God grant him life—was the one who last year sent me a little flax, which I would spin all week, [and I would sell the final product for an amount] equal to a quarter dinar. I [thus] had the equivalent of a dirham to spare for my subsistence, which was insufficient. I became mired in a predicament from which I thought I would not escape—[neither] me nor the young orphan girl [i.e., her daughter]. For my son-in-law stayed the winter in Salerno and came back only when the Egyptian ships came. He said to me, “Take the girl.” I responded, “Were you not informed about our circumstances this year? I have nothing to provide for her.” People advised me to borrow money and go into debt and to give my daughter to him because al-rūm [Christians, perhaps Byzantines] are burning [i.e., fomenting conflict in] the world. Now, my brother, consider me as a captured woman who comes to you that you might ransom her. Consider me, and do not withdraw your assistance concerning [this matter].

Help me with this debt that I am indebt[ed] to the people. I have precedence in this matter as your sister, your flesh, your bl[ood. If there were] freemen to be redeemed with dirh[ams, I would be the first to be redeemed.]

[Right margin:] I cannot describe to you the mess in which I am mired. At this moment, my dear brother, I urge you to help me in this matter and to dispatch to me what [is needed,] as I am mired in it—I am mired in debt in a city in distress.

[Verso:] I am mired in debt and hunger, a for[eigner, alone, who has no one] except you and God. Do not abandon me, my brother; [I swear] by the truth of these letters that Passover came and passed, and I was [only] able [to buy] a small measure of beets that were boiled [word unclear]. I didn’t have a single piece of silver. Instead, I cut a nettle from the ruins and boiled it. The night of Purim, when the people were eating and drinking, I boiled and ate [word unclear] for dinner. We spent every evening in the house—my daughter and I. Even though I’ve told you what I’ve told you, hearing is not the same as witnessing [my suffering]. You, my brother, help strangers and people from abroad, so how can [you not help] me, your sister? Now, my brother, help me with the matter of this debt in which I have been mired. Do not abandon me. Do not forsake me. Less than this, my brother, would be enough for you.

May God grant you life and protect you. May I not be deprived, my brother, of your countenance, and may we be reunited.

I have not advised you, my brother, concerning Tammām. He is your son, who has no one besides you and God. May God grant you life, and may you not neglect this matter—may God grant you life. I will not give you any advice, by God, my brother, may you be granted the best of peace. My son-in-law sends wishes of peace—and my daughter. And peace to you.

And I, ‘Alūsh the shammash [beadle], send you wishes for the best peace, and similarly all our colleagues wish you peace.