The Healer + The Broken Bowl
A word on storytelling: In North Africa, the timeless art of oral storytelling has long been at the core of North African life, carrying wisdom, memory, and belonging across generations. In marketplaces, village squares, cafes and family gatherings, tales have been spun to teach, comfort, warn, entertain, and to preserve history, weaving together threads of ancestry, spirituality, and daily reality. This living art has adapted with each teller, making sure that the voices of the past remain alive in the present. It is for this tradition that I offer this story.
In a quiet mountain village,
there was a healer named Lalla Sheefa who lived simply and supported her people with the blending of herbal teas, fragrant poultices, healing oils, and of course delicious meals. She treated everything from broken bones to broken souls. As she grew older in her years, she also grew richer in her service and her practice. Indeed she felt like the wealthiest woman alive.
She lived in the Atlas Mountains where time, wind and sun carved smile lines around the mouth and eyes, and the moon and gentle rains kissed the many flowers and plants that grew in her small but ever full garden. Lalla Sheefa was known across many valleys for her abilities, and sometimes people even traveled to her village from far away, hopeful in their journey for the opportunity to find healing.
One family, many miles away, had a young daughter with her heart set on becoming a healer herself. Upon hearing about the woman up high in the mountains, the family sent her to stay for a time, to apprentice with her and learn all she could, to someday take back to her village and to help her people, too.
Upon arrival at Lalla Sheefa's garden, the girl beamed with excitement and curiosity. It was then that she noticed a small table with three bowls. One was carved from olive wood, worn and glossy. Another was hand hammered in a familiar fashion, and made of brass. The third appeared to be the oldest of them all, in the earthen color of desert dusk, and shaped from the same clay of the walls around them. The young girl asked, "why do you keep this bowl, Lalla? Did you know it is broken?" A soft smile began to bloom around the old woman's face. "This bowl was given to me by my teacher. And I remember asking the same question." The girl was not sure what to think of this response, so she said nothing. Yet she felt in her a curious nature begin to stir, and suddenly she was very excited to craft medicines with this bowl in particular. Someday.
As the seasons passed, the young girl became a grown woman and a healer who began working alongside Lalla Sheefa. Sometimes she would arrive at someone's home by herself, and the village began recognizing her with the same respect they gave to her wise old teacher, who was beginning to slow in her body. The old woman spoke less, yet she smiled more.
One night under a full moon, Lalla Sheefa asked the young woman to join her for a cup of tea, requesting the use of her beloved clay bowl. The woman felt a youthful glee glowing within her chest. In her many years of apprenticeship, she had never been permitted to use this bowl, until now. The teacher walked the garden picking rosemary, mint, and lemon balm, and she even picked a few blossoms of the wild chamomile that grew through an old crack in the garden wall that she insisted must never be filled.
The water within her dulled and dented silver berrad came to a boil, and was given time to cool. They both sat together, mesmerized by the quiet of the night, and the steam dancing around the full moon in the starry sky. Once the hot water had calmed, it was poured into the bowl prepared with her herbs. Once full and steeped, Lalla Sheefa tipped the clay bowl, allowing the tea to pour from the crack and into two glasses.
The woman sat up with a straight spine. She recognized the invitation at hand, as she was now being guided into a deeper chapter of her practice. She was humbled, proud, and somehow filled with a sudden grief. "Lalla," said the woman, with nothing more to say. "Let us drink our tea," said the old healer. Though the woman had savored this blend of herbs many times in the past, it tasted far different this time. There was something rich and unknown present, stitched within the flavors and aroma - a kind of medicine that she had never experienced.
"Do you understand?" asked Lalla Sheefa.
The woman's eyes welled as she felt the presence of the many healers who came before them. In that moment, her very heart cracked, and the moon filled her spirit with light.
