Like all true folktales, the delightful story “Sarika and the Magic Pomegranate Seed” has been retold under many names, in many countries, and in many ways. A responsible storyteller determines the common denominators in as many variants (versions) as possible to create her own. Gail Pasternack’s retelling appears in The Rooster Princess and Other Tales, an anthology from the Jewish Women’s Storytelling Collective that recasts Jewish tales with female protagonists. Does the hero’s sex change mitigate the story’s universal truths? Hardly. A more pertinent question might be whether folklorists would welcome such a change. They should, because this is the beauty of folklore. We rework certain elements of a story to fit our own group, with a respectful eye toward preserving the tradition’s foundation and integrity.
The following is a brief version based on Pasternack’s retelling, which itself, she tells us, is based on variants from storyteller-scholars including Peninnah Schram, Steve Zeitlin and Josepha Sherman.
There was once a young girl named Sarika, who lived with her parents and sisters in the Jewish quarter of Fez, Morocco. Sarika’s father was a skilled artisan who fashioned beautiful platters and dishes out of metal. But no matter how many he sold, he could never make ends meet, because most of his earnings went to the sultan in taxes. To help put food on the table and clothes on the children’s backs, Sarika and her mother cleaned the home of a wealthy family. And when she had time, the young girl learned her father’s trade.
One market day, Sarika and her mother arrived at the wealthy family’s house, only to find that there was no more work for them. In fact, they weren’t even paid for the cleaning they’d recently done. Penniless, they went on to the market, where Sarika’s mother assured her they could barter their services for food. But their luck didn’t change; they got no takers. In desperation, Sarika plucked a pomegranate off a vendor’s stall. No one noticed as she slipped it into her pocket. It wasn’t till she grabbed a loaf of bread that she was caught by the observant baker, who called the authorities, and she was thrown into prison.
Hungry and frightened, Sarika sat in the dark cell for days. Each morning, she swallowed just a few pomegranate seeds from the fruit left in her pocket, because she had no idea how long it would last. Then the time came when she was to be executed for her crime.
With the sultan and the populace in attendance, the executioner raised his sword. Just then, Sarika had an idea. She had one remaining pomegranate seed in her hand, and now she held it high.
“This is a magic seed,” she said. “Whoever plants it will have good fortune till the end of a good, long life. I would hate for it to go to waste.”
The guard scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Suit yourself,” Sarika replied.
“All right,” said the guard, reaching out his hand. “What could it hurt? Give it here.”
“Just one thing,” she said. “It will not work for anyone who has stolen anything.”
The executioner shook his head. “Then count me out. I stole a coat from my neighbor.”
She turned to the guard, who took a step back. “And I stole a horse.”
As it happened, everyone in the sultan’s retinue had stolen something, including the sultan himself, who had stolen his brother’s title.
Sarika had nothing to lose. “Then why should I alone suffer?” she asked boldly. “All I took was a bit of food to feed my family!”
When the sultan asked why such a clever girl was so poor, she described the tax burden on her father, the artisan. The guards took her back to the family shop to bring back her father and see for themselves what he produced. One of them pocketed a dish to show the sultan.
Holding up the dish, the sultan was enchanted. “This work is truly magnificent,” he told Sarika’s father.
“As a matter of fact,” the poor man replied, “I didn’t make it. That is my daughter’s work.”
“Then your daughter shall be pardoned for her bravery and her skill,” the sultan replied. “What’s more, she shall become an artisan at the palace.”
And so she did. And Sarika and her family never wanted for anything ever again.
Source: Caren Schnur Neile, PhD., MFA, is a performance storyteller. She taught storytelling studies at Florida Atlantic University for twenty years. A graduate of the Jewish Theological Seminary, she has published seven books, and her work appears in The Encyclopedia of Jewish-American Literature, Elie Wiesel and the Art of Storytelling, The Oxford Handbook of American Folklore & Folklife Studies, and other publications.
Photo: AI-generated illustration.