Between the two humble villages of Kanawat and Atil lay a long, dusty road shaded only by the rare olive or fig tree. On this very path, two men once met: Iben Kanawat, a hardworking villager known for his sincerity, and Iben Atil, whose charm often masked a cunning mind.
That fateful day, the sun glowed warmly over the earth as the two exchanged greetings beneath a sprawling old tree. Iben Atil spoke with urgency and smooth persuasion. “My friend,” he said, “I am in need of 1,000 liras to complete an important trade. I will repay you soon, you have my word.”
Trusting his neighbour, Iben Kanawat reached into his pouch and handed over the money. The coins glimmered faintly in the light filtering through the branches. “I trust you,” he said simply. “But remember your promise.”
Days passed, then weeks, and a full month rolled by. Yet no word came from Iben Atil. Concerned, Iben Kanawat travelled to Atil’s village, crossing the same dusty road, only to find that his friend denied ever borrowing the money.
“I owe you nothing,” said Iben Atil sharply. “Do not accuse me falsely!”
Stunned and disheartened, Iben Kanawat turned to Abu Assaf, the wise and respected Judge of the region. The old man was famed for solving disputes not merely with law, but with insight and clever reasoning.
When Iben Kanawat told his story, how he had lent the money under the tree and been betrayed, the Judge listened patiently. Then he summoned Iben Atil to appear before him.
When both stood in the court, the Judge, calm yet commanding, addressed Iben Atil:
“Did you borrow 1,000 liras from Iben Kanawat beneath the tree on the road between your villages?”
“No, my lord,” Iben Atil replied without hesitation. “I never borrowed such money.”
The Judge turned to Iben Kanawat. “Do you recall the exact spot where this exchange took place?”
“Yes, my lord,” Iben Kanawat answered.
“Then,” said Abu Assaf, “go there at once and bring me a stone from that place. When I see it, I shall know whether your words are true.”
Iben Kanawat bowed and left immediately to fetch the stone. The Judge then turned to Iben Atil and said sternly, “You will remain here until he returns.”
The day was sweltering, the air heavy with heat. As the minutes turned to hours, the courtroom grew silent save for the buzzing of flies. The Judge began to yawn and stretch, feigning drowsiness. Iben Atil, watching him, began to do the same. His eyelids drooped; the heat pressed upon him like a blanket.
After a long pause, the Judge asked casually, “Tell me, is the place where he went very far from here?”
“No, not too far,” said Iben Atil, rubbing his eyes.
“Then, by now, he must have reached it, wouldn’t you say?” the Judge continued, his voice mild but deliberate.
“Yes, yes,” replied Iben Atil without thinking. “He must have reached it already.”
The Judge straightened suddenly, his sharp eyes flashing with satisfaction. “Go and bring me the 1,000 liras, Iben Atil, and do not waste any more of my time!”
Realising too late what had just happened, Iben Atil’s face paled. His own words had betrayed him. In his careless admission that the place “was not far,” he revealed knowledge of the very location he had earlier denied existed. There was no escape from the Judge’s clever snare.
Moments later, when Iben Kanawat returned, carrying a dusty stone from beneath the old tree, the Judge smiled.
“Judge,” said Iben Kanawat, bowing, “here is the stone you asked for.”
The Judge looked between the two men. “And here,” he said firmly, “are your 1,000 liras, no more and no less.”
He turned to Iben Atil. “Let this be a lesson,” he said gravely. “Deceit may hide behind words, but truth always finds a voice through the wise.”
And so justice was served, not by sword or strength, but through the sharp mind of one who understood the ways of both men and their hearts. From that day, Abu Assaf’s name spread far and wide as the Judge who caught lies in silence and revealed truth in wisdom.
Moral Lesson
True justice does not always need loud proof or argument, sometimes, it is the wisdom of calm observation that exposes deceit. Honesty, once lost, is far harder to regain than gold.
Knowledge Check
1. Who are the main characters in the story?
The story features Iben Kanawat (the lender), Iben Atil (the borrower), and Abu Assaf (the wise judge).
2. What caused the conflict between Iben Kanawat and Iben Atil?
The conflict arose when Iben Atil denied borrowing 1,000 liras from Iben Kanawat.
3. How did the Judge prove who was telling the truth?
He used a clever trick, asking Iben Kanawat to fetch a stone and making Iben Atil reveal through his own words that he knew the location.
4. What cultural value does this folktale highlight?
It celebrates wisdom, honesty, and the moral authority of elders and judges in traditional Syrian culture.
5. What lesson can readers learn from Iben Atil’s deceit?
Lies may seem to protect one for a moment, but truth and wisdom will always prevail in the end.
6. Where does this folktale originate?
It originates from Syrian folklore, a rich tradition of moral tales and clever justice.
Source: Adapted from the Syrian folktale “The Judge’s Clever Wisdom” in Syrian Folktales Anthology, collected by Cultural Heritage without Borders (CHwB, 2015).
Cultural Origin: Syria (Middle Eastern folklore)
