[Buddha-l] Seduction of a holy man

[jkirk]

Last year some time, someone posted a speculation that the Buddha had been 
seduced by some woman who allegedly infiltrated his kuti and had her way 
with him.
This motif--the seduction of a holy man--is widely found around the world. 
Here is a version that has a happy ending.
Interestingly (as least the way I read it), the fetus speaks and saves the 
hermit. Isn't there a story, a jataka maybe, where the Buddha speaks from 
his mother's womb? Anybody here know of it?
Joanna K.
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Of sultans, sinners and great battles fought
In Morocco, aging public storytellers still eke out a living

Marlise Simons, New York Times
Monday, February 27, 2006

Marrakesh, Morocco -- It's time for work and Mohammad Jabiri heads for Jemaa 
el Fna, the main square of Marrakesh, often called the cultural crossroads 
for all Morocco.
Stooping a little, he weaves through the crowds, past the snake charmers and 
their flutes, the racket of drummers and cymbalists, the cheers for the 
acrobats and the shouting of the kebab vendors, until he stakes out a quiet 
spot for himself.
Jabiri is a storyteller, a profession he has practiced for more than 40 
years. Every day, he conjures up a real or imagined past that is filled with 
ancient battles and populated with sinners and prophets, wise sultans and 
tricky thieves.
For this he needs few props: He puts down a small stool and some colored 
illustrations. The rest is performance. His eyes can grow large and 
magnetic, and his voice booms or whispers, depending on the intrigue.
Jabiri, 71, is one of eight bards still performing publicly in the Marrakesh 
region of southern Morocco.
But most, like him, fear that their generation may be the last in a line 
that is as old as this medieval city.
These men descend from the era -- long before radio and television, movie 
theaters and telephones -- when itinerant narrators brought news and 
entertainment to country fairs and village squares.
Yet somehow, Jabiri still manages to defy the formidable electronic 
competition.
"Some people feel that television is very far away from them," he explained 
to a visitor. "They prefer making contact -- they prefer hearing live 
stories."
And so they did on a recent afternoon, as Jabiri called out a blessing, 
raised his right hand and began the tale of the young woman who fell in love 
with a saintly hermit.
But the hermit rejected her as an envoy of the devil, so she decided to lie 
down with a shepherd who crossed her path, became pregnant and said it was 
the hermit's child.
As the story unfolded over the next hour, it took on several subplots with 
unexpected twists and turns.
The audience was men only, some sitting on the ground, some leaning on their 
bicycles. Women are not supposed to stop and listen to wild or bawdy tales.
"Young people like stories from '1,001 Nights' because there is less 
religion," Jabiri said later that day as he listed his considerable 
repertoire. "Older people like stories about the life of the prophet 
(Muhammad) and his companions. They like war stories, battles between the 
Muslims and the Persians or between the Muslims and the Christians. People 
also like miracles, like Jesus Christ healing the blind."
Students of local customs say the stories are a great melting pot of 
religious and folk tales from the region's Berber, Gnawi and Arab 
traditions.
Mohammad el-Haouzi, a biologist who grew up near the square, said he loves 
the ever-changing spectacle of jugglers, healers, musicians and 
storytellers. "I may stop by at night when I need some distraction," he 
said. "You can eat, laugh, have your teeth fixed or your body painted."
Haouzi has heard countless tales here, and even when he knows them, they 
rarely sound the same. The magic is in the telling, he said, and the mood 
may change with the narrator's antics, or the shouting or taunting from the 
audience. The tales may be moralizing or burlesque or spoof the powerful. 
"One man often parodied the bombast of television journalists," Haouzi said. 
"He had the crowds howling with laughter."
Jabiri said that in his youth, it was easier for a storyteller to make a 
living.
Although he could barely read and write, he learned his trade by listening 
to older bards and imitating them.
Finally, he wanted to see the world and, he recalled with pride, told his 
stories as far away as Casablanca, Fez and Meknes.
But now, foreign tourism has brought inflation and, earning two or three 
dollars per day, he can no longer afford the bus fare to travel or pay for a 
bed. He sees change all around him. Some of his colleagues are sick and have 
stopped coming. Two young apprentices working in Marrakesh have a long way 
to go.
As dusk falls on the square, Jabiri is still telling his tale, and it has 
reached a critical moment. The pregnant young woman, the hermit and the 
shepherd have all been summoned to be judged by the king. The king tells the 
hermit he will be beheaded, but he can make one last wish.
At this point, Jabiri abruptly stops and suggests that his enraptured 
audience make a payment so he can continue.
He collects his coins, intones a blessing and, his voice rising and his eyes 
large and wide, he completes his tale, in which the baby speaks and saves 
the hermit, who falls in love with the young woman.
At least this story has a happy ending.