The Lebanese Goat

The Lebanese Goat

A stray incident, a facial expression, the note of a song - sometimes they creep into your mind and keep coming back to you as recurring images long after the moment is over. Sometimes they are troubling; sometimes they make you feel nice; mostly they just stand there demanding your attention like my dog who cannot express what he wants but will keep coming back to me until I have guessed his need and attended to it. Well, there is this short story by a Lebanese author which I read about a month ago which has been doing this to me. I have not been able to put my finger on what it is that the story wants me to do with it so I thought if I wrote about it and shared it with you, it may get resolved.

The story is titled "La Chevre Du Liban" (the goat of Lebanon) by a Lebanese writer called Andree Chedid.
Autoun, a Lebanese Shepherd is about to return home with his sheep when he hears a voice in the distance calling out for a lost sheep.The anguish in the voice disturbs him as he can understand what a lost sheep can mean to a shepherd. He looks for it as far a his eyes can see but finds nothing. When he returns home he talks about it to his wife but she is unconcerned and is busy with getting the supper ready. Autoun is irritated about the nonchalance of the woman to another shepherd's distress. He worries about the shepherd who might not be able to eat or sleep that night until he finds the sheep. He cannot bring himself to eat so he decides to go and look for it himself. His wife is worried about the cold and his health. Unmindful, he takes the lantern and searches all night in the hard and hilly terrain until morning when he finally reaches the neighbouring village where a couple see him tired and worn out. They invite him into the house so he can rest. Autoun asks them if they know about a man who lost his sheep and has been looking for them .
The lady laughs and says "He is the biggest shepherd of the village. He sold the sheep in the morning and forgot about it in the evening and was looking for it."
Autoun asks her if she is sure and she confirms it and also tells him that the man would be passing by on his caravan shortly and he could have a look himself.
In a few minutes, the caravan passes by with a well dressed man on his camel who tips his head as a mark of respect to the woman.
In passing he shoots a casual glance at the tired old man in dusty clothes who was seated outside the house as one might look upon haggard Vagabonds.
And that is where the story ends.

I wonder what thoughts and feelings went through Autoun's head.
I remember being left with a similar feeling after watchinga tamil film called "moonram Pirai" (Sadma in Hindi)

You care too much for someone and give all of yourself to help them out because you think they need you but then, the other person has no such need and does not even know you exist much less know and appreciate your efforts for them.
What does that make you? a fool, a busybody, naive or just plain human?




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Here is an extract from the text:

Autoun, a Lebanese shepherd, heard the remote call of a neighbor who lost his goat. This voice torments it all the day. The evening, it returns at his place.

As soon as that it opened the door of its house, Autoun called to its wife:
“Chafika, there is the neighbor of the mountain which lost a goat. You did not see it in trimmings?
- No. But, come, soup awaits you. “
Ah! If only this woman spoke less!
Of the nests of silence, girls of this country. All day long, they plunge their arms in the water of linen and crockery; or, they polish the back of the copper pans and the tiling of the stripped rooms (1).
“He would not be able to eat this evening!
- Who?
The neighbor! He who lost his goat…
- Hurry, your soup will get cold. […]
- I prepared you what you like, of the stuffed vineleaves. They are the first.
- Vineleaves, is that what you can think of?
How could it be question of vineleaves whereas - up there - a man, a neighbor, a brother has corroded the heart? Antoun imagined the voice: it went and came in wood, it beat the thickets, the nervous step, the closed face. It called, it called:
“My goat! Where are you my goat?” It is terrible a man who calls! That does not leave you any more rest.
“He will not sleep this night.
- who? “
The woman returned carrying her pan wrapped in a cloth.
“But the neighbor!
- The neighbor! The neighbor! (Chafika raised the tone). It is ridiculous, you never saw him! You do not even know his face.
- I heard his voice… “, said Antoun.
Chafika sighed. It was useless to answer. When men harness themselves with an idea, they are so involved, all stupidly, like carrioles.
“But at least finish your soup.” […]
Antoun pushed back the table, rose:
“Listen!” The plate full of soup flowed on the tablecloth:
“I cannot stand it any more… Give me the lantern, I am going to seek the goat!
- You are insane! With your age and in this cold, you will catch death.
- It is perhaps somehwere in the neighbourhood. I know the way well.I also know the path of the goats. “
She knew she could not stop him. It was like that, he was obsessed with the idea and no one could do anything to dislodge it."
“I will find his goat, I will find it.”
Chafika gave him its lantern and he left.