Long ago, in the city of Baghdad, there lived a man named Sinbad the Hammál. He made his living by lugging around heavy objects on his head. In short he was a porter, as hard working, as he was poor. One exceedingly hot and dusty day, he was weary and sweating, and not sure if the heat or his load was causing him the most trouble. He staggered past the entrance of a wealthy merchant's house. The sight of a bench by the gates was so tempting, that he could not resist setting down his load, and sitting down for a while. As he rested he felt a pleasant breeze and heard the sound of a lute playing and light voices full of laughter and song. He stood up and pushed the gates open slightly. As he peaked through them, he saw a garden full of flowers, and servants carrying all sorts of rich and delicate meats. The delicious aroma greeted his nostrils and filled him with hunger. As he stood there he recited some lines:
"Each morn that dawns I awake in pain and woe..
I pick up my load and off to work I go..
while others live in comfort and delight..
with pretty song, good food, and laughter light..
All living things were born in their birthday suit..
But some live like Lords and others like brutes..
At Thee, O God all-wise! I dare not to rail..
Whose creation is just and whose justice cannot fail."
When Sinbad the Porter had finished his verse, he picked up his heavy crate and started to move off. Just as he put one foot forward, there came from the gate a little servant boy who tugged at his sleeve and said:
"Step inside, my Lord wishes to meet you." The porter tried to make excuses, but the boy would have none of them, and eventually they went through the gate together. They walked through a majestic house to the grand dining room which was full of Lords sitting at tables laden with rich food and drink. The sound of music and laughter and lovely slave girls playing and singing filled the air. The diners were seated according to rank, and at the head of them all sat a man of worshipful and noble appearance. Sinbad the Porter was so overwhelmed by all that he saw that he said to himself: "By Allah, this must be either a piece of paradise or some king's palace!" He bowed down and kissed the ground. The master of the house bid him to stand up. Servants placed food before him and and the porter, after saying his Bismillah, ate his fill, after which he exclaimed: "Praised be Allah for your generosity my Lord." His host replied: "You are most welcome and may your day be blessed, but tell me, what is your name and what do you do all day?"
"O my Lord, my name is Sinbad the Hammal, and I carry folk's goods on my head for hire."
The master of the house smiled and said:
"You should know, oh porter, that you and I have something important in common – our name! For I am Sinbad the Sailor. Now if you will be so kind, let me hear those verses that you recited outside the gate of my house."
The porter blushed, because he did not wish to repeat the lines about injustice among such wealthy and fortunate company.
"By Allah excuse me!" he exclaimed. "Poverty and hardship have given me boorish ways!"
"Tish Tish, do not be ashamed," said the Lord, but say them again, for they pleased me when I heard you speak them at the gate.
The porter duly recited the lines and the merchant slapped his back affectionately and said: "No one ever spoke a truer word. But you should know that I myself only rose to this happy state that you see all around you after long suffering and woe. I made seven voyages at sea, and by each of them hangs a marvellous tale that is almost beyond belief. If you have time, I shall tell you the first of these tales so that you can better understand what pain I endured in my early days. All this happened because of fate, for no one can escape destiny."
And this is the tale of the first voyage of Sinbad the Sailor.
My father was a merchant, a successful man of trade, who left me no short of wealth and comfort. I was young, and headstrong, and foolish, and I ate and drank and played thinking that I would continue that way for all my days. And then one day I awoke and found that the money was almost gone. Then I remembered my father, and how he used to say: "A grave is better than poverty." And I came to my senses. I sold my fine clothes, my property, and my playthings, and with my last 3000 dirhams I bought merchandise for a sea voyage. As I boarded the ship with my fellow merchants I said out loud the lines:
