STORY TSUNAMI
Official website: http://www.StoryTsunami.org
The organizer of these benefit performances is: Lee-Ellen Marvin
[The stories below may be adapted and used at upcoming Story Tsunami events. The only requirement is that you acknowledge and credit the contributor. If you wish to use them again later, you should contact the contributor for permission.]
This is a compilation of stories from the areas affected by the recent 2004 earthquake and tsunami honoring their many contributions to the rich literature of the storytelling world. This compilation is intended to provide stories from those areas for tellers to use as they participate in benefit performances to raise funds to assist the survivors of the disaster.
The countries / islands involved are:
Andaman and Nicobar Islands
India
Indonesia
Maldives (1192 islands)
Somalia
Sri Lanka
Thailand
If you know of any stories that originated in these areas or specifically about tsunamis, please e-mail them to Story-Lovers at bubbul@vom.com. I will post them to this webpage as soon as possible.
Thanks.
Jackie Baldwin
Contributors:
Karen Chace
Linda Conte
Heather Forest
Steve Goodier
Marcia Gutiérrez
David Holt
Margaret Read MacDonald
Lee-Ellen Marvin
Kathy Mincz
Norman Perrin
Regina Ress
Aaron Shepard
Dvora Shurman
Cathy Spagnoli
Denise Valentine
A TSUNAMI BLESSING AND PRAYER
In light of this week's tsunami devastation, the following blessing is offered as a prayer for those of various faiths. May it be useful as we move into a new year together.
Blessing
Blessed are those who mourn for the tsunami's victims; may they find comfort in their pain and hope in their helplessness.
Blessed are those who found a way to survive; may they now find sufficient strength and healing as they reassemble the scattered pieces of shattered lives.
Blessed are those who tirelessly strive to give relief; may they be amply encouraged in their valiant efforts.
Blessed are those who generously give money and supplies...may they know the deep satisfaction of having made a difference.
Blessed are those in every nation who unite now in compassionate service and love; may they show us what it means to be family.
•••••
From the Internet
Contributed by Karen Chace
http://www.storybug.net/
A Man Who Stood Before God
There is a story of a man who once stood before God, his heart breaking from the pain and injustice in the world. 'Dear God,' he cried out, 'Look at all the suffering, the anguish and distress in the world. Why don't you send help?' God responded, 'I did send help. I sent you.'
-David J. Wolpe, sent in to the Internet by Grant F. Tiefenbruck
•••••
Contributed by Steve Goodier
http://www.lifesupportsystem.com
Story Collections:
Folktales of India- Edited by Beck, Brenda E.F., Claus, Peter. J., Goswami, Praphulladatta, Handoo, Jawaharlal. University of Chicago Press, 1987. (J 398.2 F)
Jasmine and Coconuts: South Indian Tales – Spagnoli, Cathy and Samanna, Paramasivam. Libraries Unlimited,Inc, 1999. (J 398.2 S)
Folk Stories of the Hmong: Peoples of Laos, Thailand and Vietnam – Livo, Norma J. and Cha, Dia. Libraries Unlimited, Inc, 1991. (J 398.2 F).
The Wonderful Wooden Peacock Flying Machine and Other Tales of Ceylon. Retold by Tooze, Ruth. The John Day Company, 1969. (J 398.2 T)
The Serpent Prince: Folktales from Northeastern Thailand, Krueger, Kermit. World Publishing Company, 1969. (J 398.2 K)
Individual Folktales/Picture Book Fairy Tales:
The Gift of the Crocodile: A Cinderella Story (Spice Islands in Indonesia): by Sierra, Judy. Simon and Schuster, 2000. (J 398.2 S).
The Quail's Egg (Sri Lanka) – Troughton, Joanna. Peter Bedrick Books, 1988. (J 398.24 T).
Individual Stories from Collections:
"I Don’t Want to Be a Buffalo,” “The Rabbit and the Moon,” from A World of Children’s Stories. Pellowski, Anne. Friendship Press, 1993. (J 398.2 W). (both stories are from Thailand)
“The Cake Tree” From Can You Guess My Name? Traditional Tales Around the World. Sierra, Judy. Clarion Books: 2002. (J 398.2 S). (Sri Lanka)
“Admirable Hare” From The Golden Hoard: Myths and Legends of the World. McCaughrean. Margaret K. McElderry Books, 1995. (J 398.3 M). (Ceylon/Sri Lanka)
Book suggestions from the Four Winds Storytellers Library, Toronto [3,000 + volumes]
[from Norman Perrin]
India
(The) Beautiful Blue Jay, John Spellman Little Brown 1967
(The) Demons of Rajpur, Betsy Bang Greenwillow 1980
(A) Flowering Tree, A.K. Ramanujan University of California 1997
Folk Tales of India, Lee Wyndham Bobbs-Merril 1962
Folktales of India, Brenda E.F. Beck Chicago1987
(The) Hungry Tigress, Rafe Martin Shambala 1984
Mondays on the Dark Side of the Moon, Kirin Narayan Oxford 1997
(The) Talkative Beasts, Gwendolyn Reed Lothrop 1967
India Picture Books
Elephant in a Well, Marie Hall Ets Viking 1972
(The) Magic Cooking Pot, Pb Faith M. Towle Houghton Mifflin 1975
Tip for Tap, Ann Kirn Norton 1970
Indonesia
Far East Stories, E.W. Dolch Garrard Indonesia, India
Folk Tales from Indonesia, S.D.B. Penerbit Djjambatan 1982
Folk Tales from Irian Jaya, Suyai Pratomo, Balai Pustaka 1983
How the Mouse Deer Became King, Margaritte Harmon Bro, Doubleday 1966
Indonesian Folk Tales, A. Koutsoukis Rigby 1970
Kantchil's Lime Pit, Harold Courlander Harcourt Brace 1950
Mythology of All Races, Roland Dixon Marshall Jones 1916 Indonesia, Melanasia
Malaysia
Folk Tales of Malaysia, Zakaria bin Hitam Sterling1979
Malay Myths and Legends, Jan Knappert Heinemann 1980
Somalia
Folktales from Somalia, Ahmed Hanghe, Scandinavian Institute of African Studies 1988
(A) Tree for Poverty, Margaret Laurence, McMaster University Press 1993
Single stories in:
African Stories, Robert Hull Wayland 1992
The Kings's Drum, Harold CourLander Harcourt 1962
Sri Lanka [Ceylon]
(The) Adventures of Andare, the Court Jester, Vijita Fernando, Typeforce 2002
(The) Elephant's Bathtub, Frances Carpenter Doubleday 1962 (other countries, too)
Three Tales of Monkey, Ruth Tooze John Day 1967 Bali, Sri Lanka
(The) Tiger's Whisker, Harold Courlander Methuen1960 Java, Sri Lanka, Indonesia
Mahadenamutta, the Old Man Who Knew Everytthing, Vijita Fernando Typeforce 2002
Village Folk Tales of Ceylon 3 Vol., Henry Parker, Arno Press 1977
Thailand
Folk Tales from Siam [Thailand], Alan Feinstein Barnes 1969
Folk Tales of Thailand, P.C. Roy Chaudhury Sterling 1976
Folktales from the Land of Smiles, Andrew Coombs Suk Soongswang Pub. 1994
(The) Golden Swans Pb, Kermit Krueger, World Pub 1969
Kao and the Golden Fish, Wilai Punpattanukal-Crouch, Cheryl Hamada, Children's Press
Tales from Thailand, Marian Davies Toth, Tuttle 1982
The Butterfly Peace Garden
Since 1996 The Butterfly Peace Garden of Batticaloa, Sri Lanka has been a garden of reconciliation and healing for war-affected and traumatized children from the Batticaloa district of Sri Lanka's Eastern Province. Through painting. storytelling, theatre and ritual, Tamil, Muslim, Hindu and Christian children work with artist animators to create a small zone of peace, seeking to lay the foundation of peace for future generations.
Since the Dec. 26 tsunami, the Butterfly Peace Garden staff have been helping many of the 280,000 refugees that have come to Batticaloa.
Website for The Butterfly Peace Garden:
http://www.thestupidschool.ca/bpg/index.htm
List of Countries with Full-Text Stories:
(Note: To get to the story you want, use your Find Command (usually Command F or Control F), key in a few words from the title, click Enter/Return)
Andaman and Nicobar Islands
...Story of the Flood (2versions)
India
...A Story to End All Stories
...The Man Behind the Mask
...Who Will Win?
...Birbal
...Tenali Raman
...The Perfect Sword
...Siddhartha Encounters the World
...Avvai
...A Faithful Friend
...A Ruby Returned
...The Right Note
...Asian Telling Styles (for a better understanding of how to tell these tales)
...The Lion and the Rabbit
...A Flock of Birds
...The Talkative Turtle
...The Monkey and the Pea
...The Traveler and the Nut Tree
...Three Fish
...Who is King of the Forest?
...The Brave Little Parrot
...One-Eyed Turtle Sitting on a Sandlewood Log
Indonesia
...Sikintan
...Princess Pinang Masak (2 versions)
...The Spoiled Little Kitten
...Si Kabayan
...The Adventures of Mouse Deer
...The Golden Snail
...The Learned Men
Sri Lanka
...(The) Frog Prince
...Mama Bird and Her Babies
...(The) Trial at Avichara
Thailand
...(The) Elephant and the Bees
...(The) Freedom Bird
...If It Belongs to Us, It Will Come to Us
...(The) Freedom Bird
...(The) Singing Ape of Thailand
...(The) Star Stories of Thailand
Stories About Tsunamis
Japan
...(The) Burning Fields (2 versions)
STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS:
1) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Information and lots of pictures about the Andaman-Nicobar Islands
http://www.geocities.com/sujatharatnala/travel.htm
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2) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
More information on Andaman-Nicobar Islands and their tribes — post tsunami
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1309884/posts
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3) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Sindbad the Sailor -- Encyclopædia Britannica
... the seventh voyage may have been from the Andaman Islands. ... Nights, The collection of Oriental stories of uncertain ... have almost become part of Western folklore. ...
You can get the whole story by taking a free trial membership...
http://www.britannica.com/eb/article?tocId=906790
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4) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Thunderstones and Shooting Stars: Meteors and Meteorites in Folklore
Excerpt: "To the folks from the Andaman Islands, meteors were torches carried by evil spirits of the forest as they hunted for men...."
http://starryskies.com/The_sky/events/meteors/thunderstones-shootingstars.html
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5) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Story of the Flood from the Andaman Islands plus more information and analysis.
Here is another story. The primitive inhabitants of the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal also have an account of the Flood. (2)
Sometime after they had been created, men grew disobedient and disregarded the commands which the Creator had given them. In anger he sent a great flood which covered everything except Saddle Peak, where the Creator himself resided.
Every living creature, man and animal, perished in the water save for two men and two women who happened at the time to be in a canoe and contrived to escape with their lives. When at last the waters sank, the little company landed but found themselves in a sad plight, since all other living creatures were drowned. However, the Creator, whose name was Pulga, kindly helped them by creating animals and birds afresh for their use. Yet the difficulty remained of lighting a fire, for the flood had extinguished every fire on every hearth and everything was very damp.
Whereupon, the ghost of one of their friends who had been drowned in the deluge, seeing their distress, flew in the form of a kingfisher into the sky, where he found the Creator seated beside his fire. Here he tried to grab a burning brand, hoping to carry it off in his beak for his friends on earth. But in his haste he dropped it on the august person of the Creator himself, who was greatly incensed at the indignity and, smarting with pain, hurled the blazing brand at the bird. It missed its mark and, whizzing past him, dropped plumb from the sky at the very spot where the four people were seated moaning and shivering. That is how mankind received the use of fire after the Great Flood. Subsequently the Creator condescended to explain to them that men had brought the Great Flood upon themselves by willful disobedience to his commands. That was the last time that the Creator ever appeared to men to converse with them face to face. Since then the Andaman Islanders have never seen him, but they still live in fear of him.
•••••
(2) Frazer, James G., Folklore in the Old Testament, Macmillan, London, 1919, vol.1, p.233.
http://custance.org/Library/Volume9/Part_II/chapter1.html
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6) ANDAMAN-NICOBAR ISLANDS
Andaman Islands (Bay of Bengal):
(another version of the Flood story, #6 above)
Some time after their creation, men grew disobedient. In anger, Puluga, the Creator, sent a flood which covered the whole land, except perhaps Saddle Peak where Puluga himself resided. Of all creatures, the only survivors were two men and two women who had the fortune to be in a canoe when the flood came. The waters sank and they landed, but they found themselves in a sad plight. Puluga recreated birds and animals for their use, but the world was still damp and without fire. The ghost of one of the peoples' friends took the form of a kingfisher and tried to steal a brand from Puluga's fire, but he accidentally dropped it on the Creator. Incensed, Puluga hurled the brand at the bird, but it missed and landed where the four flood survivors were seated. After the people had warmed themselves and had leisure to reflect, they began to murmur against the Creator and even plotted to murder him. However, the Creator warned them away from such rash action, explained that men had brought the flood on themselves by their disobedience, and that another such offense would likewise be met with punishment. That was the last time the Creator spoke with men face to face. [Gaster, pp. 104-105]
http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/flood-myths.html#AndamanIs
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT INDIA:
1) INDIA
A Story to End All Stories (a story from India from a collection of 77 stories)
Story: A certain king was enormously learned. He knew all the arts. Once, on a whim, he sent word through his provinces that he would give a reward of a thousand rupees to anyone who could tire him out with a story; if he ever got bored and stopped saying “Hmm, hmm” to the story, he would admit defeat and pay up.
Learned pundits came to his court from over a hundred places, told him story after story till they got tired and sick. He continued to say “Hmm, hmm” every sentence of their telling. He never tired of it.
Finally a pundit came from the north. He told the clever king many long and involved stories. The king enjoyed them all and never once showed any sign of fatigue. The pundit exhausted himself and felt defeated. His face fell. One day, as he was walking away from the palace, utterly dejected, he met an old friend who asked him, “Why do you look so depressed?”
The pundit was happy to see him and unburdened himself of the whole story. The friend said, “Is that all? Cheer up. Take me with you tomorrow and I'll defeat him.”
In spite of all the pundit's protests, the friend went with him to see the king, who gave him permission to begin a new story, and so he began one.
“Once upon a time, in a certain town, there lived a king. Near the town was a big pond. On its bank was a huge banyan tree. Right under it, a farmer had stored all his ragi grain in several kanajas (grain containers) after harvesting and threshing the ragi. Thousands of sparrows lived in the banyan tree. Every sparrow would eat a grain, take a small drink of water in the pond, and fly back to perch on the tree. There were twenty enormous kanajas filled with grain. Each day, a sparrow would fly down, eat a grain, take a small drink of water, and fly back to the tree. Then the next sparrow would fly down, eat a grain, take a small drink of water, and fly back to the tree,” and so on.
And he went on like this for hours. The king began to get tired of saying “Hmm, hmm, hmm” to every sentence of the story. Every day, after the morning bath and food, they would gather for the story, which never seemed to end.
Again the storyteller resumed: “The grains of ragi were not exhausted. The sparrows continued to eat. One of them would eat a grain, drink the water, and go back to the tree. Then the next one would eat a grain, take a drink …,” and so on.
The king was disgusted. “ Thu, this fellow is repeating himself over and over. How can I keep on saying ‘Hmm, hmm’ to him?” he wondered wearily. Finally he asked the storyteller, “For days you've been telling me the story. Tell me, by now, how many kanajas of grain got empty?”
“Ayyo, my lord, in all that I've told you these many days, not even one quarter of a kanaja was eaten by the sparrows. There's so much more left for the sparrows to eat and for me to tell. So one of them ate a grain, drank the water, and went back to the tree. And then the next one …,” and so on.
The king's heart sank. For days, he had hardly been able to attend to any of his household or state affairs. “When will all the twenty kanajas get over? Ayyo, ayyo, how many more days will it take? How long, O lord!” he cried within himself. He was afraid he would be stuck with saying “Hmm, hmm” for months. So he said to the storyteller, “You win. You're a great storyteller. With your story, you've brought me the biggest headache of my life. You've achieved something that none of the great pundits could achieve with their beautiful stories. You're greater than all.”
Then he gave the man his reward of a thousand rupees and was happy to see the pair of them go.
As soon as they were outside, the two friends skipped with joy that they had taught a foolish king a lesson. “We've done it,” they said. “Never more will he trouble a learned man or a storyteller.”
•••••
Source:
A Flowering Tree and Other Oral Tales from India by A. K. Ramanujan includes 77 stories:
http://ark.cdlib.org/ark:/13030/ft067n99wt/
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Book available for sale: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0520203992/ref=ase_kamatspotpourri/104-5343349-3291948?v=glance&s=books
2) INDIA
The Man Behind the Mask
[This legend is a favorite of Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee (1999)]
Story: A king in ancient India accidentally cuts off a finger and summons his wazir, or prime minister, for advice. "Whatever happens is for the good," says the wazir. Angered by his deputy's insulting fatalism, the king fires him. A few days later, the ruler is out hunting alone when he is captured by a band of savages. They are preparing to sacrifice him to the gods when one of them notices the king's missing digit. According to the rules, only people with intact limbs can be sacrificed. The king is set free. Struck by the wazir's prophecy, the monarch reinstates him but asks: If everything happens for the best, what good could have possibly come from your dismissal? "My lord," the adviser replies, "if I had been serving you, I would have accompanied you to the hunt and been sacrificed in your place."
Source:
http://www.asiaweek.com/asiaweek/magazine/99/1022/vajpayee.html
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3) INDIA
Stories from India (231)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/india/
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4) INDIA
Who Will Win - a tale from India
Story: Siva, the wise father of Ganesh, once called to his two sons and suggested a small contest.
“I will give this sweet to whoever goes around the world the fastest,” he said, holding out a large, delicious milk sweet. Murugan, Ganesh’s brother, glowed with pride knowing the prize would soon be his. For he could fly swiftly in his chariot, circle the earth, and be back in only hours, while his big, clumsy brother Ganesh would take so much longer to do the same.
Bidding farewell to his parents, Murugan set off happily. Ganesh thought for a moment, then smiled and began to move. His large elephant head with its heavy trunk did slow him down, but he did not have far to go. For he simply walked carefully around both of his parents. In a few minutes he had circled them and stood respectfully in front of his father once again.
“Father, please give me the prize,” he said.
“Why? You did not go around the world, you stayed right here,” replied Siva.
“But father,” argued Ganesh, “I have just gone around the world. You see, my parents are indeed the whole world to me.” His parents smiled, well pleased.
Much later, a tired Murugan returned home. However, the prize was already eaten up. And now you know who won it and why.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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5) INDIA
Birbal - a tale from northern India
Story: One night when her husband was out visiting friends, Birbal’s wife went to sleep quite early. Hours later, she awoke when she heard a loud noise in the next room.
“What was that?” she cried.
“Nothing much,” replied Birbal. “It was only my clothes. They fell down.”
“But how could your clothes make such a heavy noise?” she asked.
“Because I was in them.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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6) INDIA
Tenali Raman - a tale from southern India
Story: One warm evening, Tenali Raman came home and saw three thieves hiding in the bushes, watching his house. He went inside, winked at his wife, then shouted, “Wife, we must be careful. There are thieves in the city. Let’s put all our valuables in that big chest and hide it in the well tonight. Everything will be safe there.”
His clever wife replied at once,“What a good idea. We’ll do it right away.”
In no time, the old chest was filled, but not with jewels — with brick bits and heavy pots. Groaning and moaning, the couple pushed it out and into the well. They went back inside and soon the house grew dark and quiet. In the garden, the three thieves were most pleased.
“How easy they made it for us,” said one. “Now we can empty the well while they sleep, then remove the chest.”
Eagerly, the three took turns pulling up the well bucket and pouring the water nearby. From inside his house, Tenali Raman watched them empty bucket after bucket, all on his dry garden. The thieves worked for hours until at dawn they were ready to remove the chest.
Just then, Tenali Raman called out, “Thank you so much for watering my garden. Please pull up that chest of junk, too, before the guards come to arrest you.”
Shocked and scared, the thieves raced from the garden, faster than bees. Tenali Rama watched with a grin then went to enjoy a good cup of chai.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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7) INDIA
The Perfect Sword - a tale from India
Story: An American, a Russian, and an Indian were working together once in a metal factory. One day, the American made a good, sharp sword blade and showed it proudly to the others. Next, the Russian went to his workbench, sculpted a wonderful sword handle, and attached it firmly to the sword.
The Indian, not knowing what else he could add, thought for a moment, then quickly picked up the sword and carved across the blade in large letters, “Made in India.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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8) INDIA
Siddhartha Encounters the World - from India
[Retold by Margaret Read MacDonald from these sources: The Hungry Tigress: Buddhist Legends & Jataka Tales by Rafe Martin. Parallax Press, 1990 and Asvghosa’s The Buddhacarita or Acts of the Budddha by E. H. Johnston, Motilal Banarsidass, 1936.]
Story: In all of his life, Prince Siddhartha had seen nothing but beauty and happiness. He had three palaces. One for the cold season, one for the hot season, and one for the rainy season. The prince spent his entire life within palaces. He grew up, married, and had a son. Still he knew nothing of the real world.
One day Siddhartha heard the women singing of beautiful forests beyond the city. This was something he had to see. He made plans for an outing to the Padmasanda Grove.
When the King heard of this, he sent word that every old, or sick person should be hidden away from the route the prince would take. Only the young and beautiful should be allowed along that route.
So when the prince rode out in his golden chariot, the streets were lined with beautiful people. The roads were strewn with purple lotus blossoms, the city bright with flowers.
How happy Prince Siddhartha felt to be prince of this beautiful kingdom.
But suddenly, an old man stepped in front of his chariot. He was bent and frail.
Even with a cane he could hardly walk.
“Stop the chariot!
What sort of man is this? I have never seen such a feeble creature.”
His chariot-driver replied, “Why this is old-age.
All men become like this in the end.”
“You mean I will become like this?”
“Yes, of course. In time.”
“How can I go on a picnic when such things exit in the world?”
Back to the palace!”
The charioteer whirled the golden chariot around and they raced back to the palace.
Sometime later, the prince thought again that an excursion to the grove might be fun.
Again the King sent out word to remove all old and ill people from his route.
Again the streets were strewn with flowers and lined with beautiful young people.
The prince smiled as he drove through the streets in his golden chariot.
But then . . .
A very sick man staggered in front of the chariot.
“Stop the chariot!”
What sort of person is this?
His body is covered with sores.
He can hardly stand.”
“This is a man racked by disease,” said the chariot-driver.
“It is a misfortune which falls on many.”
“You mean other men also have such disease?”
“Yes, many men suffer this.”
“Back to the palace!”
The chariot-driver whirled the golden chariot about and sped back to the palace.
Yet once more the Prince decided to visit the forest grove.
Once more the King sent word for the way to be strewn with flowers and lined with smiling young people.
But just as the Prince was happily passing . . .
Four men stepped in front of his chariot . . . carrying a corpse.
“Stop the chariot!
What is THAT?”
“That is a dead man.
He no longer lives and breathes.
His body is being taken away.”
“Does this happen to other men too?”
“Yes. It happens to all men. Even you one day will die.”
“I cannot go play in the grove when such things are possible,” said the prince sadly.
“Back to the palace.”
But the chariot-driver did not obey.
The King had told him to take Prince Siddhartha on to the pleasure grove,
regardless of his commands.
And there the Prince sat under the beautiful trees
with nothing but sadness in his heart.
SIDDHARTHA VOWS TO ATTAIN ENLIGHTENMENT
After his encounters with old-age, disease, and death, Prince Siddhartha vowed to renounce his princely world and become a monk. He left the palace and entered the forest to live simply and meditate.
Siddhartha thought he could attain enlightenment by starving his body. At first he ate only one bowl of rice a day. Then half a bowl. Then a quarter bowl. Finally he was taking only one grain of rice each day as food.
He was very close to death. Then he remembered something. When he was only a small child he had once had a moment of clarity and great understanding. If he could come so close to enlightenment then as a well-clothed and well-fed baby, perhaps starvation was not the way.
He decided to eat again. At that very moment a young maiden from the village came to him offering milk-rice for his bowl. Siddhartha accepted the offering and ate.
Then weakly he made his way to the edge of the river and announced, “If this is the day of my Supreme
Enlightenment may the bowl float upstream.” And he threw his bowl into the water.
Immediately the bowl began to whirl upstream…until it reached whirlpool of Kala Naga Raja, The Black Snake King. And there it was sucked down, down and landed with a clink beside a row of identical bowls in the Naga King’s jeweled palace.
Now Prince Siddhartha knew that his enlightenment could be attained.
So he seated himself on a heap of freshly cut grass at the foot of a bo tree,
and began once more to meditate.
Notes: The many bowls in the palace of Kala Naga Raja remind that many have sought and attained enlightenment before Siddhartha.
Kala Naga Raja is not the same naga as Mucilinda, who sheltered the Buddha during his meditation and is depicted often in art.
MUCALINDA
When the Buddha attained enlightenment he continued to meditate for seven weeks.
During the second week he stood and gazed at the beautiful bo tree under which he was sitting when he received enlightenment.
But during the sixth week he sat by the side of a nearby lake.
While he was deep in meditation, a storm came up. Heavy rains fell and cold winds blew around him.
Seeing this, Mucalinda, a great naga, came from his dwelling and coiled his body seven times around the Buddha’s body to keep him warm. Then it spread its hood over Buddha’s head to protect him from the rain. The storm lasted for seven days. And when the rain stopped, the naga uncoiled itself and took the form of a young man and bowed to the Buddha.
Then the Buddha spoke saying:
“Happy are those who are content,
And those who have learned The Way and truly see.
Happy are those who have good will
toward all living creatures.
Happy are those who have no attachments
And those who have no desires.
But the disappearance of the word “I AM”
Is the greatest happiness.”
•••••
Section three of the life of Buddha story.
Shaped by Margaret Read MacDonald for the Asian Art Museum in San Fransisco.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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9
) INDIA
[Asian tellers share stories of nature - of its beauty and power. Although modern problems of pollution plague many Asian nations, there is a tradition of care, of closeness to the natural world; nature is not something to be conquered, but something we can all learn from...
Avvai - a tasty tale of Indian recyling
[from Simple Wonders by Cathy Spagnoli and Paramasivam, Tulika Publishers, 2001]
Story:
The treasurer of Mysore Palace once arranged for a big dinner. Several hours before the dinner, he went through the royal kitchen, checking the preparations. In a corner, he saw a large basket of vegetable scraps.
“What is this?” he asked a cook.
“Trimmings from the vegetables - the end pieces and things we don’t need,” replied the cook.
“What will you do with them?” the treasurer asked.
“Throw them away. They’re of no use,” replied the cook.
“But you can’t simply waste all of these pieces,” said the wise treasurer. “You must find a way to use them.” With a stern look to go with his command, he then walked away.
The cook then stared at the bits and pieces and tried to think what to do. Finally, he took some coconut scraps to make a sauce with yogurt. Then he cleaned all of the vegetables and cut them into small pieces. He added some spices and cooked the mixture.
Later that evening he served his dish. Guests immediately loved it and asked its name. He called it, “Avvil.” From that day on, this easy-to-make dish was very popular in the palace and then elsewhere. And it all started from a basket of waste!
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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10) INDIA
A Faithful Friend - an Indian parrot shows the strength of friendship
[from Jasmine and Coconuts by Spagnoli and Samanna, Libraries Unlimited, 1998.]
Story:
Once in a peaceful forest, a hunter walked, holding arrow tips dipped in a strong poison. He heard a sound, saw a deer leap out, and immediately he let loose an arrow. The arrow flew by the deer and hit instead a large, lovely tree. Annoyed at his miss, the hunter soon left the forest, never to return. But the arrow’s poison stayed in the tree, spreading quickly through it.
Soon, the life in the tree began to depart. Little by little, the tree started to die. In days, its leaves drooped sadly. Many of the creatures that lived in it began to move away, fearing death. More leaves fell and soon nothing was left on the wounded tree except for one small parrot. This parrot stayed, perched on a tree branch, even though there was no food to eat and no leaves to shelter him.
One day Indra, the king of heaven, saw a bright light surrounding a tree on the earth below. Curious, he went down and found a glow coming from a small parrot, who looked very weak and thin. Softly he said,“Dear bird, this tree is almost dead, it can no longer help you. Why do you stay on it? You may die if you don’t seek other shelter and food.”
“My lord,” said the parrot softly. “I was born in this tree, I ate my first food here. The tree has been my friend for so long, giving me both shelter and comfort. Now that it is weak and hurt, how can I go away? It helped me as I grew. I must now stay and help my friend as he leaves this earth.”
Indra, much impressed by the words and spirit of the kind parrot, smiled and said, “You know much about true friendship. I would like to grant you a boon, a blessing. What do you ask?”
“Great Indra,” replied the bird. “All that I ask is for my friend, the tree, to be brought back to full health once again.”
As soon as the words fell from the parrot’s beak, the tree began to recover. Brown leaves suddenly turned green, bark began to glisten, bent branches straightened proudly. And the happy parrot nestled closer to the tree, almost spinning round for joy, and rubbing his small body against the tree , as if to say, “Welcome back, dear friend.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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11) INDIA
A Ruby Returned - wisdom from Judge Mariada Raman of South India
[from The World of Indian Stories by Cathy Spagnoli, Tulika, 2003]
Story:
In Tamil Nadu, where wise judge Mariada Raman lived, there was much trade with foreign lands. One day, a trader prepared for a journey, asking a nearby merchant to guard a large ruby. After four long years, the trader returned home empty-handed, desperate for his ruby. He went to the merchant, seeking his jewel.
“My dear sir, you are mistaken,” said the merchant. “I no longer have your ruby. Don’t you remember? I returned it to you last week.”
“You did no such thing,” cried the trader. “Give it to me now and don’t lie. Or else we’ll go to court.”
“It is you who lie,” said the merchant. “I have three witnesses who saw me return your precious ruby, so let us go before the judge to settle this.”
Unhappy and confused, the trader followed the merchant to Mariada Raman.
“Your honor,” said the trader. “Four years ago, before I left on a voyage, I trusted this merchant with my ruby. Today I went to claim it, but he refused to return it.”
The judge turned to the merchant and asked, “Is this correct?”
“Of course not, your honor,” said the merchant with a grin. “The man is lying and wasting your time. He did indeed place the ruby with me. I kept it faithfully for the four years. But last week, he came to me and I returned the ruby, in perfect condition.”
“Are there are witnesses to this?” asked the judge.
“Yes indeed,” the merchant replied. “My washerman, my barber, and the local potter all saw me return the gem.”
“Bring those men here,” ordered the judge. In a short while, the three men stood in court. Mariada Raman turned to them and asked, “Will each of you swear that you saw the merchant return a ruby to this man?”
One by one, the three witnesses spoke up, each vowing that he saw the return of the ruby. As they spoke, the trader’s face grew red and his breathing became fast and furious.
The judge gave quiet instructions to his servants, then said, “Now I want all five of you to step outside for a moment.” Each man was led to a separate room and told to make a clay model of the ruby. After some time, the men returned to the courtroom. All five clay rubies were then displayed to the judge. After staring at the five rather unusual pieces, Mariada Raman spoke.
“We will now prove the truth of this case,” he said. “Look at these models. Only two of them resemble rubies. They are the models done by the trader and the merchant, since both definitely saw the gem. However the other three pieces, made by the so-called witnesses, look nothing like jewels.
“These lying cheats have obviously never seen a ruby and so each made something familiar instead. The washerman’s clay looks like the edge of his washing stone. The barber’s seems like his sharpening stone, while the potter’s resembles a brick bit from his kiln. The guilt is clear, proven by the hands of those involved.”
He ordered the ruby to be returned at once to its rightful owner, and suitable punishment to be given to the four liars. Then, leaving the five clay rubies to sit as silent witnesses, the judge went home to enjoy a welcome rest.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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12) INDIA
The Right Note - an Indian lesson about pride
[from Tales of Asian Artists by Cathy Spagnoli, S.I.C.F./U. of Washington, 2002]
Story:
Hanuman, the great monkey god and devotee of Rama, was an accomplished musician. However, after some time, he grew too proud of his skill. One day, Rama decided that Hanuman needed to be taught a lesson. He took Hanuman deep into a forest, as if on a hunting trip. But nearby, unknown to Hanuman, lived a sage most famous for his great understanding of music. He had so devoted himself to his music that the seven notes of the scale, the septasvaras, took shape as his daughters.
As Rama rested with Hanuman, he asked him to play his vina. Too full of himself, Hanuman played a bit carelessly. As he played, the seven daughters were on their way to get water. Suddenly, Hanuman played a note out of tune. At once, one girl, who was this very note, fell dead to the ground. Bitterly weeping, her sisters ran to their father. He came and saw his child. Then he heard the vina. The same note was still played out of tune, over and over. In a rage, he picked up his daughter’s body and went to Hanuman.
“See what you have done with your carelessness, with your wrong note and your poor practice,” he cried. Hanuman, suitably humbled, at once passed the vina to the sage, begging forgiveness.
The saint played the same raga, but with greater care and with the skill of a lifetime. Each note was perfect. As the wrong note now sounded just right, the daughter opened her eyes and arose. She ran off happily to play with her sisters while Hanuman sat still, with a lesson well learned.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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Information for tellers from Cathy:
So many tales are told in Asia, from short, personal anecdotes to nightlong epics. And the stories are told in so many different ways, with and without music, with and without visuals, by one teller or a small group. Have fun exploring a taste of this treasure...
Asian Props
In Asia, there are so many tales, so many props....
Although some styles with visual props have faded in India, other styles can still be found. In the North Indian state of Rajasthan, the intricately painted Par scroll is set up by the Bhopa (teller), who then weaves nightlong tales, most often of the hero Pabuji. Wearing his red turban and stamping feet ringed with bells, the Bhopa sings, speaks, and bows his stringed instrument while his wife illuminates the story scenes with an oil lamp.
The ingenious kavad, from the same state, has a number of door panels, painted in vivid colors on both sides, which unfold to share stories of the gods. The last two doors usually open to show statues of the deity. The Ministry of Culture and the Delhi Bal Bhavan have made new adaptations of the kavad for rural education and to address other modern concerns.
A long vertical scroll, the pata, is used in the North Indian state of West Bengal by traveling storytellers who unwind the scroll slowly as they sing. Traditional tales of the gods and goddesses and newer stories about social issues (eg. dowry), accidents, politics, and more are told.
In the far south of India, the villupattu style is known for the size of its troupe (up to seven members) and for its major instrument: a bow strung with bells. These tellers share legends of local heroes and tales of deities and spirits, in temple settings. Newer stories about rural development, AIDS, literacy, Christianity, and Indian heroes are also told in this lively style that juxtaposes main story, verbal asides, questions, dialogue, and much music.
Asian Telling Styles
SOUTHEAST ASIA: Professor and storyteller Wajuppa Tossa, of Northeastern Thailand, also found her beloved Isan culture threatened by the stronger Thai language and culture. So she now teaches storytelling to her students, sends them out in troupes to share their Isan heritage, translates old Isan epics, and sponsors storytelling camps. In Singapore, the National Library Board, the National Book Development Council, and talented tellers like Kiran Shah and Sheila Wee are helping Singaporeans explore both cultural roots and future directions in a growing modern storytelling movement.
Nearby, in Malaysia, storytelling is also spreading, especially in the schools. Recently, many training sessions for teachers have taken place as storytelling has become part of the schoolday. Dr. Murti Bunanta of Indonesia promotes storytelling there through her work of many years, helped by talented Indonesian tellers and writers.
INDIA: Across India, there are too many ways to tell a tale. In Rajasthan, two popular styles involve the intricately painted par scroll and the ingenious kavad, a box with panels that unfold to tell a tale.
Musical storytelling is found across India in countless forms. Kirtan, a stirring blend of music and story from North India, changed into the southern Harikatha, which is still found in temples, musical societies, and at functions. Harikathabhagavatars, like Sri T.S. Balakrishna Sastrigal, have natural talent, devotion, and much training. They know major epics and stories, thousands of verses, several musical styles, and countless anecdotes to weave into the main story.
In the far south, the villupattu style features a large troupe and an unusual instrument: a bow strung with bells. Burra katha troupes in neighboring Andhra Pradesh usually have three members: a main teller, an assistant who adds questions and asides to help the tale unfold, and a drummer who plays the “burra.” The Communists helped revive this art to spread their message in the early 1900’s. Today, burra katha troupes, like villupattu troupes, share traditional tales as well as messages on family planning, farming, banking, or politics.
In lush Kerala state, several forms flourish. Chakyar Kuttu, performed only in temples, is the oldest form. The Chakyar uses elaborate language to slowly embroider several verses from an epic. Ottan Thullal, a more lively form of telling — with varied music, generous expression, bright costume, and social comment laced with satire — evolved from through the genius of poet Kunchan Nambiar.
While most Indian tellers tell of the gods, in kathaprasangam of Kerala, tellers tell about Communism and regional talent. This secular style developed in the twentieth century to popularize local Malayalam literature and to challenge societal problems of caste, corruption, and inequality.
The Asian storyteller tells to promote rural development, to encourage devotion, to preserve heritage and the environment, to teach, to entertain, and to inspire. In both quiet village and bustling city, Asian storytellers tell on even in the twenty-first century.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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13) INDIA
The Lion & The Rabbit - A Fable from India
The animals of the forest made a bargain with a ferocious lion who killed for pleasure. It was agreed that one animal each day would willingly come to the ferocious lion's den to be his supper and, in turn, the lion would never hunt again. The first to go to the lion's den was a timid rabbit, who went slowly.
"Why are you late?" the lion roared when the rabbit arrived.
"I'm late because of the other lion," said the rabbit.
"In my jungle? Take me to this other lion."
The rabbit led the lion to a deep well and told him to look in. The lion saw his own reflection in the water and roared! The sound of his roar bounced right back at him as an echo.
"I alone am king of this jungle," he roared again.
His echo answered him, "I alone am king of this jungle."
With that, the lion became so enraged, he charged into the deep well with a great splash! The lion attacked his own reflection and was never heard from again.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/lion.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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14) INDIA
A Flock of Birds - A Folktale from India
There was once a flock of birds peacefully pecking seeds under a tree. A hunter came along and threw a heavy net over them. He said, "Aha! Now I have my dinner!"
All at once the birds began to flap their wings. Up, up they rose into the air, taking the net with them. They came down on the tree and, as the net snagged in the tree's branches, the birds flew out from under it to freedom.
The hunter looked on in amazement, scratched his head and muttered, "As long as those birds cooperate with one another like that, I'll never be able to capture them! Each one of those birds is so frail and yet, together they can lift the net."
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/flock.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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15) INDIA
The Talkative Turtle - A Tale from India
A talkative turtle overheard two hunters say that they were planning to catch turtles the very next day. When the hunters left, the turtle asked two cranes to help him escape. "Beautiful white birds," he said, "if you hold a long stick between your beaks, I'll close my mouth tightly in the middle of it, and then you can fly up and carry me to safety."
"Good idea," said the cranes. "But, for the plan to succeed, you will have to keep your mouth closed tightly on the stick and you must not say a word!" The turtle agreed and biting on the middle of a stick held in the beaks of two birds, off he was carried.
When the birds were high in the air with the turtle dangling down from the stick, some people on the ground looked up at the strange sight in the sky and said, "What clever birds! They figured out how to carry a turtle!"
The proud, talkative turtle cried out, "It was my idea!" and fell tumbling down to earth.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/talkative.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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16) INDIA
The Monkey and The Pea - A Tale from India
The King of Benares was out on a hunting trip with his wise counselor. They stopped to feed their horses some peas. Suddenly a young monkey darted down a tree and scooped a huge handful of peas out of the feeding trough. Halfway back up the tree one pea fell from the monkey's furry hands and, in a desperate attempt to catch it, the monkey dropped all the peas he was carrying.
Peas scattered on the ground and the horses ate them. The monkey climbed back up the tree empty-handed and sat sadly on a branch. The King and his wise counselor watched this episode with amusement. The counselor chuckled, "Great King, when far too greedy you be, remember that monkey and the pea."
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/monkey.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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17) INDIA
The Traveler & The Nut Tree - A Tale from India
A traveler who stopped to rest under a nut tree noticed a huge pumpkin growing on a thin vine.
"How foolish are the ways of nature," the traveler muttered. "If things were as they should be, this big, strong tree would hold the large pumpkins, and the spindly vine would hold the nuts. Now if I made the world, that is how I'd have done it!"
At that moment, from high up in the tree, a small nut fell and hit him squarely on the head. Startled, he looked up into the branches and thought, "Forgive my arrogance! If it were a big pumpkin that fell out of the tree onto my head, it most certainly would have killed me!"
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/traveler.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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18) INDIA
Three Fish - A Tale from India
Three fish lived in a pond. One was named Plan Ahead, another was Think Fast, and the third was named Wait and See. One day they heard a fisherman say that he was going to cast his net in their pond the next day.
Plan Ahead said, "I'm swimming down the river tonight!
Think Fast said, "I'm sure I'll come up with a plan.
Wait and See lazily said, "I just can't think about it now!"
When the fisherman cast his nets, Plan Ahead was long gone. But Think Fast and Wait and See were caught!
Think Fast quickly rolled his belly up and pretended to be dead. "Oh, this fish is no good!" said the fisherman, and threw him safely back into the water. But, Wait and See ended up in the fish market.
That is why they say, "In times of danger, when the net is cast, plan ahead or plan to think fast!"
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/threefish.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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19) INDIA
Who Is King Of The Forest? - A Tale from India
When Tiger jumped on Fox, Fox cried out, "How dare you attack the King of the Jungle!"
Tiger looked at him in amazement, "Nonsense! You are not King!"
"Certainly I am," replied Fox, "All the animals run from me in terror! If you want proof, come with me." Fox went into the forest with Tiger at his heels. When they came to a herd of deer, the deer saw Tiger behind Fox and ran in all directions.
They came to a group of monkeys. The monkeys saw Tiger behind Fox and they fled. Fox turned to Tiger and said, "Do you need more proof than that? See how the animals flee at the very sight me?!"
"I'm surprised, but I've seen it with my own eyes. Forgive me for attacking you, Great King." Tiger bowed low and with great ceremony he let Fox go.
http://www.storyarts.org/library/nutshell/stories/whoisking.html
•••••
Contributed by
Heather Forest
Story Arts
heather@storyarts.org
http://www.storyarts.org/heather.html
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20) INDIA
The Brave Little Parrot - A tale from Jataka; adapted by Rafe Martin
[from an ancient Jataka tale from India. Found in More Best-loved Stores Told at the National Storytelling Festival (August House,1992.) Martin has published other versions of this tale in The Hungry Tigress: Buddhist Myths, Legends and Jataka Tales (Yellow Moon Press, 1999) and as a children's picture book, The Brave Little Parrot ( G.P. Putnam's, 1998, illustrated by Susan Gaber.]
Full Text:
Once a little parrot lived happily in a beautiful forest. But one day without warning, lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and a dead tree burst into flames. Sparks, carried on the rising wind, began to leap from branch to branch and tree to tree.
The little parrot smelled the smoke. "Fire!" she cried. "Run to the river!"
Flapping her wings, rising higher and higher, she flew toward the safety of the river's far shore. After all, she was a bird and could fly away.
But as she flew, she could see that many animals were already surrounded by the flames and could not escape. Suddenly a desperate idea, a way to save them, came to her.
Darting to the river, she dipped herself in the water. Then she flew back over the now-raging fire. Thick smoke coiled up, filling the sky. Walls of flame shot up, now on one side, now on the other. Pillars of fire leapt before her. Twisting and turning through a mad maze of flame, the little parrot flew bravely on.
Having reached the heart of the burning forest, the little parrot shook her wings. And the few tiny drops of water that still clung to her feathers tumbled like jewels down into the flames and vanished with a hiss.
Then the little parrot flew back through the flames and smoke to the river. Once more she dipped herself in the cool water and flew back over the burning forest. Once more she shook her wings, and a few drops of water tumbled like jewels into the flames. Hissssss.
Back and forth she flew, time and again from the river to the forest, from the forest to the river. Her feathers became charred. Her feet and claws were scorched. Her lungs ached. Her eyes burned. Her mind spun dizzily as a spinning spark. Still the little parrot flew on.
At that moment some of the blissful gods floating overhead in their cloud palaces of ivory and gold happened to look down and see the little parrot flying among the flames. They pointed at her with their perfect hands. Between mouthfuls of honeyed foods, the exclaimed, "Look at that foolish bird! She's trying to put out a raging forest fire with a few sprinkles of water! How absurd!" They laughed. But one of those gods, strangely moved, changed himself into a golden eagle and flew down, down toward the little parrot's fiery path.
The little parrot was just nearing the flames again, when a great eagle with eyes like molten gold appeared at her side. "Go back, little bird!" said the eagle in a solemn and majestic voice. "Your task is hopeless. A few drops of water can't put out a forest fire. Cease now, and save yourself before it is too late."
But the little parrot continued to fly on through the smoke and flames. She could hear the great eagle flying above her as the heat grew fiercer. He called out, "Stop, foolish little parrot! Stop! Save yourself!"
"I don't need some great, shining eagle," coughed the little parrot, "to tell me that. My own mother, the dear bird, could have told me the same thing long ago. Advice! I don't need advice. I just" cough, cough "need someone to help!"
Rising higher, the eagle, who as a god, watched the little parrot flying through the flames. High above he could see his own kind, those carefree gods, still laughing and talking even as many animals cried out in pain and fear far below. He grew ashamed of the gods' carefree life, and a single desire was kindled in his heart.
"God though I am," he exclaimed, "how I wish I could be just like that little parrot. Flying on, brave and alone, risking all to help, what a rare and marvelous thing! What a wonderful little bird!"
Moved by these new feelings, the great eagle began to weep. Stream after stream of sparkling tears began pouring from his eyes. Wave upon wave, they fell, washing down like a torrent of rain upon the fire, upon the forest, upon the animals and the little parrot herself.
Where those cooling tears fell, the sparks shrank down and died. Smoke still curled up from the scorched earth, yet new life was already boldly pushing forth shoots, stems, blossoms, and leaves. Green grass sprang up from along the still-glowing cinders.
Where the eagle's teardrops sparkled on the little parrot's wings, new feathers now grew: red feathers, green feathers, yellow feathers, too. Such bright colors! Such a pretty bird!
The animals looked at one another in amazement. They were whole and well. Not one had been harmed. Up above in the clear blue sky they could see their brave friend. the little parrot, looping and soaring in delight. When all hope was gone, somehow she had saved them.
"Hooray!" they cried. "Hooray for the brave little parrot and for this sudden, miraculous rain!"
•••••
Adaptation by Rafe Martin
As found at:
http://www.healingstory.org/treasure/little_parrot/brave_little_parrot.html
Suggested by
Kathy Mincz
TheSt10000@aol.com
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21) INDIA
One-Eyed Turtle Floating on a Sandalwood Log
(An ancient Buddhist parable, adapted by Denise Valentine)
Full text:
Once, there was a young boy who set out on a journey in search of his happiness. He searched far and wide; he searched the cities, the towns, and the countryside. He searched from the top of the earth to the bottom of the earth. He asked everyone he met along the way. "Excuse me, Sir, can you tell me where to find my happiness?" "Well son, I don’t rightly know what happiness is, so how can I tell you where to find it?" A little further down the road… "Miss, oh Miss, can you tell me where to find my happiness?" "Oh child, I can’t find my own happiness, so how can I tell you where to find yours?" He was becoming a little discouraged, but he continued on his journey. Time passed. The little boy became a young man.
One day, he came upon an old, old man, sitting under a bodhi tree. He thought, that old man looks wise. Surely he can tell me where to find my happiness. "Wise One, I am searching for my happiness. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve searched far and wide; I’ve searched the cities, the towns, and the countryside. I’ve searched from the top of the earth, to the bottom of the earth. And I’ve asked everyone I met along the way. And still, I could not find it."
The Wise One said to the young man, "Go and find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log, and return to me. Then you shall know the secret to happiness." Ohhh, the young man was so excited. All he had to do was find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log, and his search would be over.
Eighty thousand yojanas down on the bottom of the ocean floor, lives a one-eyed turtle. This turtle has neither limbs, nor flippers. His belly is as hot as eight hot fires, while the shell on his back is as cold as Snow Mountains. What this turtle yearns for day and night, the desire he utters morning and evening, is to cool his belly, and to warm the shell on his back. But only the wood of the sandalwood tree has the power to cool his belly. So the little turtle longs with all his might, to climb onto a sandalwood log and place his belly in the hollow in order to cool it, while at the same time, exposing the shell on his back to the sun in order to warm it.
But by the laws of nature, the little turtle rises to the surface of the ocean, only once every thousand years. And even when he does so, the ocean is vast, the little turtle is small, and floating logs are few. If he should happen to find a floating log, it is seldom made of sandalwood. And even if he should happen to find a floating log, and it is made of sandalwood, it rarely has a hollow in it the size of his belly. If the hollow is too large, he will fall in, and cannot warm the shell on his back, and there will be no one to pull him out. If the hollow is too small, he cannot place his belly in the hollow. The waves will wash him away, and he will sink back down to the bottom of the ocean floor, to wait another thousand years.
Even if, against all odds, he should happen to find a floating log, and it is made of sandalwood, and it has a hollow in it the size of his belly, he has only one eye. His vision is distorted. If the log is floating eastward, he perceives it as floating westward. If the log is floating north, he sees it as floating south. The harder the little turtle tries to climb onto the log, the farther away from it he goes. Thus, he always moves away from the log, and can never approach it.
So, the young man returns to the wise old man, without the one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log. "Old man, old man, you tricked me. I couldn’t find a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log."
"Then, young man, you have found the secret to happiness. We cannot see our own eyebrows, which are so close. Nor the heavens in the distance. Likewise, we do not see that happiness exist in our own hearts. Searching for your happiness, outside your own life, is as elusive as finding a one-eyed turtle floating on a sandalwood log."
•••••
Contributed by
Denise Valentine
To read this story with delightful illustrations, go to:
http://denisevalentine.com/Story.html
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT INDONESIA:
1) INDONESIA
Sikintan - A Folktale from Jamu Region in Acheh Province [where the earthquake occurred]
[Contributed by Murti Bunanta of Jakarta. It is from her book Indonesian Folktales (Libraries Unlimited, 2003).
Full text:
I
n a village there lived a family with only one son. His name was Sikintan. Every day the father went into the forest to gather wood, which he sold in the market. Though he worked hard, they were always poor.
One night Sikintan’s father had a dream. In his dream an old man came to him and said, “Sikintan’s father, go to the upper reaches of the river. Look there for a large bamboo cluster. In that bamboo cluster you will find a Back to topdiamond stick. That diamond stick will bring much good fortune.
The following day Sikintan was asked by his father to come along on a trip to the upper reaches of the river. But his father didn’t tell Sikintan what his exact purpose was. His father only told him they were going for a long walk.
Father and son walked along the edge of the river. When they had traveled far upstream to the very upper reaches of the river, they discovered a large bamboo cluster. Sikintan was astonished to see his father start digging furiously in the bamboo cluster. But still his father did not tell him what he was actually looking for.
After a while, something sparkling was seen among the bamboo roots. Sikintan’s father soon pried it up from the thick bamboo clump. It was the diamond stick which had been revealed by the old man in the dream. Not until he actually had the diamond stick in his hands did the father tell Sikintan about that dream.
When they arrived home, Sikintan’s mother was amazed to see her husband carrying a diamond stick! They decided they should sell it and use the money to forward Sikintan’s career, since he was now old enough to go out into the world. But since everyone on their island knew them as poor people, they feared they would be accused of stealing if they tried to sell something so valuable. They decided to send Sikintan to another island to make the sale.
The following day Sikintan hired himself onto a large boat traveling to another island . “You will soon be rich, my son,” said his father. “Don’t forget your poor parents who have always lived in poverty. Remember us when your life improves.” Sikintan promised to always remember his parents.
So Sikintan crossed the seas to a distant island. As soon as the ship had moored, Sikintan went ashore and looked for work. He settled down to learn his way about, before attempting to sell the diamond stick. He soon realized that only the most wealthy merchant in the village would have enough money to purchase such a thing. So he approached that merchant and managed to sell the marvelous diamond stick for a large sum.
With the money from the diamond stick, Sikintan set himself up as a merchant. He used his money well, worked hard, and became very rich. He married a merchant’s daughter, built a fine house, and bought for himself a large ship, which he named “Sikintan.” But all this time, he had not thought at all about his parents, still living in his home village in such poverty.
Then one night Sikintan had a dream. In his dream he saw his mother and father. “Kintan,” called his mother, “You are now rich and contented. But you seem to have forgotten your parents. We have been waiting for you for so many years. Did you not promise your father when he saw you off at the ship, that you would never forget your own parents?”
Sikintan realized his shameful neglect of his parents. The next day he and his wife set sail for his native village. As soon as he docked, he sent word for his parents to come to the ship. News spread throughout the village that Sikintan had returned a rich merchant.
Sikintan’s father was overjoyed and rushed to the shore to greet his son. But when Sikintan saw this old man in ragged clothes on the shore, he was ashamed to admit before his wife, that this was his own father.
“Old man, how do you dare claim to be my father. My father is not a poor old creature like you.” Sikintan’s father tried to be patient. “Kintan look at me carefully. I am your father. It was I who gave you the diamond stick which made your fortune. It is because of me that you now can live in such wealth, while your old parents have lived in poverty all of these years.”
But Sikintan turned his back on the ragged old man. His father went home in grief.
“Though Sikintan sent for me, he refused to recognize me when I arrived,” he told his wife. “You must go to call him. Surely he will recognize his own mother.”
So Sikintan’s mother hurried to the ship and asked someone to call Sikintan to the deck. But when he came out onto the deck and saw this old, decrepit woman, he once more refused to show recognition. “Old woman, don’t you ever claim me as your son. My mother didn’t look like you. My mother was always neatly dressed and clean.”
“But Kintan,” replied his mother. I am old now, and we are very poor. How can you show shame at meeting your own parents?”
So his mother too had to go home grief-stricken. There she and her husband wept and wept that their own son would refuse to recognize them.
As for Sikintan, he turned his ship and started back for the village of his wife. But soon the wind began to blow. The ship’s captain was alarmed. “Sikintan has been cruel to his own parents. This typhoon may be a retribution for his actions. Now we will all suffer because of Sikintan.
Sikintan realized that the captain was right. Fearing for his life, he ordered the captain to change course and return to his parent’s island. Once more the huge ship docked at his parent’s village. Once more they hurried to the shore to greet their son. But when he saw that old, ragged couple on the shore, Sikintan still could not bear to admit that they were his own parents. So happy at first, his parents now were crushed once again. “If you still do not want to recognize us, we will just go home. Forget you ever had us as your parents.” And they left.
As Sikintan’s ship sailed away a final time, his mother called to the heavens. “Since our son, Sikintan, does not admit we are his parents. Let him have no blessing from us or from the heavens.” (does this work. “have his just deserts” doesn’t sound right)
Now the typhoon arose again. This time there was no turning back. The ship was swallowed in the waves, and Sikintan, his wife, and all his crew were drowned.
They say that seven days after the ship sank, an island appeared on that spot. A white monkey clung to the island. For one month the white monkey was seen clinging there. And then it was gone. People say that the island was Sikintan’s ship and that the white monkey was Sikintan himself. To this day that island is known as Sikintan’s Island. And all who pass it remember the story of Sikintan who treated his own parents so cruelly.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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2) INDONESIA
Contemporary stories from Indonesia, some about the actual tsunami event (84)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/indonesia/
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3) INDONESIA
Princess Pinang Masak
[A folktale from Indonesia.. Retold from Indonesian Folktales by Murti Bunanta. (Libraries Unlimited). Retold by Margaret Read MacDonald.]
Bones:
The Princess Pinang Masak was the most beautiful girl in her village.
Word of her beauty soon spread.
Everyone in the entire region knew of her beauty.
Her fame spread far beyond the bounds of her father’s small kingdom.
Soon the Sultan of Sumatera heard of her beauty.
Now the Sultan of Sumatera held sway over the entire island of Sumatera.
He could have anything and anyone he wanted.
And when he heard of a beautiful young girl…he wanted HER.
So when word came to his palace of the faraway Princess Pinang Masak…he at once sent soldiers to capture her and bring her to his palace.
The Sultan already had a harem with over a hundred beautiful girls held captive there.
But he was eager to add another.
Fortunately word reached Princess Pinang Masak that the king was sending soldiers to arrest her.
She thought long about how she could escape them, and she came up with a plan.
The Princess boiled the dark purple blooms of the banana tree in a huge vat of water.
Then she began to streak that dark dye onto her skin.
She streaked it all over her arms.
She streaked it all over her face, her neck, her shoulders.
She rubbed it all over her legs and feet.
Then she mussed up her hair, stuck sticks, straw, and bugs in it.
And she put on the oldest, most ragged clothes she could find.
When the soldiers came to take her, they stopped in their tracks.
“THIS is the beautiful Princess Pinang Masak?”
“There must be some mistake!
This girl is horrible to look at!”
But they took her with them all the way back to the Sultan’s palace.
There they presented her to the Sultan.
“What is this hideous object?” exclaimed the Sultan.
“THIS is the Princess Pinang Masak?
Take her out of my sight!
I cannot stand to look at such ugliness!”
So the Princess Pinang Masak was returned to her own village.
She had outsmarted the Sultan.
But of course in time her skin returned to normal.
She combed her hair and put on beautiful clothing again.
And word of her beauty once more began to travel throughout Indonesia.
“Have you heard of the Princess Pinang Masak?
She is the most beautiful girl this country has ever seen!”
Soon the Sultan heard of this.
“Something is not right here.
The girl I saw was hideous.
Yet I keep hearing of this beauty.”
The Sultan sent a man to spy in the kingdom of Princess Pinang Masak.
The man came there incognito and just hung around to see what he could discover.
One day he say a most beautiful young lady out walking with her four girlfriends.
“Who is that girl in the middle?” he asked.
“She is amazingly beautiful.”
“Oh that is the Princess Pinang Masak.”
“THAT is the Princess Pinang Masak?
Then we have been tricked!”
The spy hurried back to inform the Sultan.
“Then I have been TRICKED!”
The Sultan right away sent a whole contingent of soldiers to arrest the princess and bring her to his palace.
When she heard that the soldiers were coming again, Princess Pinang Masak knew that she could not fool the Sultan a second time.
She and her four girl friends went down to the water and found a boat.
Two strong young men went with them.
And in the dead of night the seven escaped from their village.
They sailed down and down the whole length of Sumatera, looking for a place to land.
At last they found a cove which looked promising.
There was fresh water there.
The hills were covered with fruit trees.
Seafood was abundant in the sea.
They could live here and found their own village.
The Princess changed her name to Princess Senura.
And they called the new village they founded Senura village.
The Sultan never discovered her.
For the rest of their lives the seven lived in this spot.
Soon they married with people from nearby villages.
And their own small village thrived.
When Princess Senura was old and about to die,
She called all of the villagers to her.
“I am going to ask a boon of the gods,” she said.
“I am going to ask that no girl in this village should ever be born as beautiful as I was.
That sort of beauty can be a great curse on the girl and on her family.”
And do you know her wish came true.
To this day, the girls of Senura Village are not at all beautiful.
And some say this is a curse.
But some say this is a blessing.
For it means that whenever a girl of Senura Village is asked to marry,
She knows that the young man has not chosen her because he was blinded by her beauty.
He has chosen her because he loves her inner being.
If you visit Senura Village today,
You can still see the graves of the Princess Senura, her four girl friends, and the two young men who accompanied them.
They are all still there…in Senura Village.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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4) INDONESIA
[Contributed by Murti Bunanta of Jakarta. It is from her book Indonesian Folktales (Libraries Unlimited, 2003, this version as retold by Storyteller Lee-Ellen Marvin.]
Princess Pinang Masak - A Folktale from Senuro Village in South Sumatera Province.
Full Text:
Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl. Her name was Napisah, but she was also called Princess Pinang Masak. In the local language pinang masak means ripe areca nut. Perhaps she was as beautiful as a ripe areca nut to the people of her village.
This beautiful young girl lived in a small kingdom ruled by a king. The King was known to be fond of bringing young, beautiful girls to his court and keeping them there for his own pleasure.
The King had heard that in this small village there lived a beauty named Princess Pinang Masak. Her beauty was said to be unmatched throughout the whole kingdom. It was the talk of the entire kingdom and many young men had already competed to marry her.
The King wanted to know the truth of this matter, so he ordered several of his chief commanders to take this Princess Pinang Masak and bring her to his palace.
When Princess Pinang Masak heard of the king’s intention, she was distressed. She decided she would rather die than join the many young women held prisoner at the king’s palace. She sought a way to avoid being taken there, but she knew it would be hard to escape the king’s vicious soldiers.
Then she thought of a plan. Princess Pinang Masak boiled deep purple banana blossoms until she had a vat of dark liquid. Then bathed in the maroon-colored banana blossom water. As she covered herself in this dark liquid, her skin began to look streaked and dirty. Her beauty was disguised and ruined. Then she put on the oldest rags she could find and waited for the king’s soldiers to arrive.
When the soldiers came to take her to the palace, they found no beauty, but only a dirty looking, unsightly girl in rags. They could not believe the king wanted this creature, but they took her to the palace as commanded.
When they brought her to the king, he was horrified and disgusted that such an unsightly girl should be brought before him. Immediately he expelled Princess Pinang Masak from his palace and harshly sent her back to her village.
However her misfortune did not end with that. Young men continued to arrive at her village proposing marriage, for the fame of her beauty still was known far and wide.
News of her continued suitors reached the king. He wondered if he had been deceived in some way, and sent soldiers to investigate. When they reported that the Princess Pinang Masak was indeed very beautiful, he ordered her captured and brought once more to the palace.
But, Princess Pinang Masak had heard of the king’s intentions. She called her four faithful friends and two guards and they planned for her to escape. Leaving by night, the seven sailed along the rivers and lowlands looking for a new place to avoid the pursuit of the soldiers.
Their boat passed a wide lowland which was later called Lebak (lowland) Maranjat and a bay (teluk) called Teluk Lancang. Before long they sailed through a swamp which had a fast current.
Traveling so far, they at last discovered a safe, hidden place to reside and settled down there. The people nearby welcomed Princess Pinang Masak. Living here, the princess changed her name and took the name of Princess Senuro. Gradually the place grew into a village and was named Senuro village after the lovely princess.
In this new place, Princess Senuro was still the young men’s ideal. She taught basketry skills and instructed in the making of plaited materials such as baskets and other kitchen utensils. It was said that she could plait a basket so well that it could not be penetrated by water.
Years passed. One day Princess Senuro fell ill. With time her sickness became worse and worse. Before she
died she swore an oath. “I beg God Almighty that my descendants should not be as beautiful as I am. Beauty can cause calamities such as have befallen me.”
After she spoke this oath, she breathed her last. She left her four faithful friends and two brave guards who had protected her until her death. Her four friends and two guards remained living in this village until they too died and were buried beside the grave of Princess Senuro.
For the people in that village, Princess Senuro is a symbol of women who hold in high esteem the dignity of women.
As for the evidence of Princess Senuro’s oath, people say that since that time the girls in Senuro village are less beautiful than girls from other villages.
•••••
[Contributed by Murti Bunanta of Jakarta. It is from her book Indonesian Folktales (Libraries Unlimited, 2003, this version as retold by Lee-Ellen Marvin, folklorist and storyteller.]
lmarvin@twcny.rr.com
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5) INDONESIA
The Spoiled Little Kitten
[An Indonesian Folktale retold by Margaret Read MacDonald from Murti Bunanta, Indonesian Folktales, Libraries Unlimited, 2003. From Deli Serdang, North Sumatera.]
Full text:
There was once a mother cat and her kitten who were much loved by the King.
They lived a life of such luxury.
All day they would lie around on velvet cushions.
If they became hungry, they would just call, “Meow. Meow. Meow-meow-meow!”
And a servant would appear with food on a golden plate.
“Here you are.”
The kitten in particular was very spoiled.
He seldom even moved except to call for more food.
“Meow. Meow. Meow-meow-meow!”
“Here you are!”
Then one day disaster struck.
The palace caught on fire and burned to the ground.
The mother cat and her kitten escaped into the forest.
But their life of luxury was gone.
There was no more servant to bring them food on a golden plate.
Now the mother cat had to go into the forest every day and try to find food for herself and her kitten. She soon became very thin and scraggly looking. Often she had only enough food for her son and had to go without
eating herself.
But the spoiled kitten still just lay in one spot.
He wouldn’t lift a paw to help his mother.
He had to sleep now on a bed of shredded leaves that his mother had made for him.
He complained all of the time.
He never made a move to help clean up their living space,
or offer to help his mother in her search for food.
One day the poor mother cat could not find anything at all to bring home for her kitten.
“I am sorry, son.
Tomorrow I will try again.”
The spoiled kitten threw a fit.
“Some mother YOU are!
Can’t even FEED me!
I am going to go find a BETTER mother!”
And the spoiled kitten actually got up off of his bed of leaves and stalked off into the forest.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!”
Soon the kitten noticed the Sun.
The Sun’s warm rays were touching everything.
“What a great idea!
SUN could be my mother!”
And he began to cry, “Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
SUN! I want you to be my MOTHER!”
Sun looked down.
“I hardly think so, little kitten.
I would burn the fur right off of your back.
You don’t want me for a mother.”
“I want a strong mother!
And you seem very strong.”
“Oh I am strong.
But there is someone stronger than me.
Cloud is much stronger.
Whenever cloud wants to, it can cover my face.
I can’t do a thing about it.
Cloud is stronger.”
“Oh. Well then….never mind.
I’ll go ask cloud.”
And the kitten went in search of cloud.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Cloud! Cloud!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
Cloud looked down.
“You don’t want me for a mother.
I would rain all over you.
You would be soaking wet all the time.
Find a better mother.”
“I want a strong mother.
I want the best mother!
Sun says you are stronger than her.
I want you!”
“Oh I am strong.
But there is someone stronger than me.
Wind is much stronger.
Wind can just blow me wherever she wants me to go.
Wind is the strong one.”
“Is that true?”
“That’s true.”
“Well then….never mind!
I’ll ask wind to be my mother.”
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Wind! Wind!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
“You don’t want me for a mother, little kitten.
I would just blow you away!”
“But you are strong!
I want the strongest mother!”
“I am strong.
But there is someone stronger.
Hill is stronger than I am.
No matter how hard I am blowing,
when I run up against hill, I am stopped in my tracks.
That hill is the strong one.”
“Oh. Well then…never mind.”
And the little kitten went in search of hill.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Hill! Hill!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
“What? A kitten wants me for a mother?
Not a good idea.
I am all rocks. There would be no place for you to rest.
How could you cuddle up to a mother like me.
Not a good idea.”
“But I want the strongest mother.
You are stronger than wind.
I want you!”
“Well I am stronger than wind.
But there is another stronger than I.
It is Carabao, the water buffalo.
That big bull just stomps all over my back.
Carabao knocks off my rocks.
Carabao squashes up my mud.
Carabao can flatten me entirely.
Carabao is strongest.”
“Well then…never mind.”
And the kitten went in search of Carabao.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Carabao! Carabao!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
“What? A huge Carabao as mother for a tiny kitten?
I would step on you and squash you.
I should not be your mother.”
“But I want the strongest mother.
You are stronger than hill…
And hill is stronger than wind and wind is stronger than cloud and cloud is stronger than sun.
I want the best mother of all.
I want you!”
“Oh I am not so strong,” said Carabao.
There is someone much stronger than I.
It is that rope.
Do you see how it goes around my neck and has tied me to that tree?
I cannot do a thing because of that rope.
Rope is stronger for sure.”
“Is that true?”
“That’s a fact.”
“Well then….never mind!”
And the kitten began to plead with the rope.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Rope! Rope!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
“You want a rope for a mother?
I think not.
Do you know what I would do, if I were your mother?
I would tie you up!
You wouldn’t like that!”
“Well…I want a strong mother.
You are stronger than Carabao and Carabao is stronger than hill and hill is stronger than wind and wind is stronger than cloud and cloud is stronger than sun. You must be strong!”
“I am strong.
But there is someone stronger than even I.
It is that horrible rat.
Rat just gnaws right through me.
Rat eats me up, ruins me.
Rat is the strong one.”
“Rat? Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
”Well then….never mind.”
Kitten hurried to find Rat.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Rat! Rat!
Would you be my MOTHER?”
“You want a rat for a mother?
Do you know what I would do if I were your mother?
I would bite you all the time!”
“Oh dear.
But I want the strongest one to be my mother.
You are stronger than rope
Rope is stronger than Carabao.
Carabao is stronger than Hill.
Hill is stronger than Wind.
Wind is stronger than Cloud.
Cloud is stronger than Sun.
So you must be REALLY strong.”
“Oh there is someone much stronger than I.
In the forest there lives a skinny old mother cat.
Some day that cat will catch me.
She will eat me up.
That cat is the strong one.
But I feel sorry for that old cat, even though she is my enemy.
She has a spoiled kitten living with her.
That kitten would lift a paw to help her.
He just lies in bed and meows for food all day long.
That poor mother cat.
I do feel sorry for her.”
“Oh. Is that all true?”
“That is all true.”
“Well then…never mind…”
And the kitten went meowing through the woods.
“Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Meow! Meow! Meow-meow-meow!
Mother! Mother!
I want you to be my MOTHER!”
“Of course I will be your mother!
Where were you?
Come here and get a hug!”
“I was looking for the best mother in the whole wide world…and the strongest mother in the world.
But do you know what?
It is YOU!”
“Oh yes,” said Mother Cat. “Of course I am the best mother. For my little kitten at least.”
“And I think,” said the Kitten. “that as you are the best mother in the whole wide world…
I should try to be the best kitten in the whole wide world.
I’m not going to act spoiled anymore!”
And that Kitten never acted spoiled again!
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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6) INDONESIA
Si Kabayan - a short, short tale of a popular Indonesian character
Story: Si Kabayan once sat near a tree, weeping great tears. A friend came up and asked, “Why are you crying?”
“Because I just got a new shirt,” he replied.
“But that is good news. Why does it make you cry?” the friend asked.
“Because it will get old.”
•••••
Contributed by
Cathy Spagnoli
http://www.cathyspagnoli.com/asiatell/index.htm
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7) INDONESIA
Kantchil's Lime Pit and Other Stories from Indonesia by Harold Courlander, illustrated by Robert W. Kane (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1979).
Library citation:
Kantchil's lime pit : and other stories from Indonesia
By: Harold Courlander
Type: English : Book : Fiction
Publisher: New York : Harcourt, Brace, ©1950.
Subjects: Tales -- Indonesia.
Folklore -- Indonesia.
Find Related: Title/Author Search
Green decorated cloth, glossary with pronunciation guide, notes, numerous b/w illustrations, 23 tales. ; The story of the tiny mouse deer Kantchil in the lime pit, and other beloved Indonesian tales. Rare. ; Hardcover; Ex-Lib; Ex-library, marks mainly to endpapers. Bottom rubbed. Jacket has small sticker on lower part of spine, spine slightly faded. ; Drawings
•••••
Suggested by
Regina Ress
storytellerrress@aol.com
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8) INDONESIA
The Adventures of Mouse Deer
Tales of Indonesia and Malaysia
Told by Aaron Shepard
Pictures by Kim Gamble
“I’m quick and smart as I can be.
Try and try, but you can’t catch me!”
Mouse Deer sings his song as he walks through the forest looking for tasty fruits and roots and shoots. Though he’s small, he is not afraid. He knows that many big animals want to eat him—but first they have to catch him!
Full text available at:
http://www.aaronshep.com/storytelling/GOS23.html
In these delightful trickster tales from Southeast Asia, find out how Mouse Deer gets the best of his enemies—Tiger, Crocodile, and the most dangerous animal of all, Farmer!
Story Book
Paperback ~ $7.00
Skyhook Press ~ 2005
ISBN 0-938497-32-4 ~ LCCN 2004098685
50 pages ~ 6 x 9 inches
10 black-and-white illustrations, plus ornaments
Ages 4–9
Coming in February 2005
Kantchil’s Lime Pit, and Other Stories from Indonesia, by Harold Courlander, Harcourt Brace, New York, 1950. No one surpasses Harold Courlander in the quality of his retellings. This is the book that made me fall in love with Mouse Deer. Written for young readers but well suited to older ones too.
Indonesian Legends & Folk Tales, by Adèle de Leeuw, Thomas Nelson & Sons, New York, 1961. Another fine collection aimed at young readers.
Favorite Stories from Indonesia, by Marguerite Siek, Heinemann, Kuala Lumpur, 1972. A Malaysian schoolbook, close to the source.
•••••
These listings and book buying information are at Aaron Shepard's website:
http://www.aaronshep.com/books/MouseDeer.html
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9) INDONESIA
The Learned Men - A Javanese Tale from Indonesia
[found in The Tiger’s Whisker and other Tales from Asia and the Pacific by Harold Courlander, Henry Holt & Company, New York Copyright 1959,1987.]
Story:
Guno and Koyo decided that they would travel together and use their wits to gain wealth and riches for themselves. Guno said: “Let us pretend to be learned men.”
“Yes,” Koyo said eagerly, “I have always wanted to be a learned man. I shall be Hakim Koyo, the well-known doctor from Surabaja.”
“As for me,” Guno said, “I shall be known as Hadji Guno, a religious scholar who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca.”
And so they began their journey, talking and planning, each making suggestions as to how they would become rich. When Koyo addressed Guno, he called him Hadji, and spoke respectfully; and when Guno spoke to Koyo, he called him Hakim and said his words with great dignity. Each of them felt very profoundly the burden of his newly found position in life.
Guno quoted from the Koran, which he could not read, and Koyo explained how to cure sicknesses he had never heard of. They treated each other with the greatest honor and politeness.
As they approached a small mountain village, they saw a boy driving buffalo before him. “Which of us do you suppose he will regard as the greatest philosopher?” Guno said. “Most likely it will be me, because of his good upbringing in religious matters.”
“On the contrary, he will recognize me first, for the works of hakim are known to Muslim and pagan alike,” Koyo replied.
But when they approached, the boy said simply: “Good morning, old men.”
Koyo said: “What! Is that the way one speaks to a famous hakim from Surabaja? What impudence!”
“Yes,” Guno said, “what bad upbringing, to address a hadji in this manner!”
Then the boy said: “Where are you traveling, old farmers?”
“Is this the respect due to a learned man and a holy one who has made the pilgrimage?” Koyo said sternly. “How dare you speak to us so rudely?”
“I meant no harm,” the boy said, “for certainly there is nothing in your appearance to distinguish you from other men.”
“So!” Guno shouted. “He goes from bad to worse!”
“Yes!” Koyo added. “Not satisfied with his insult, he stretches it further!”
“How could I tell you are a doctor and a holy man?” the boy said. “You look and talk just like the people in my village.”
“You ignorant buffalo boy,” Koyo shouted, “don’t you recognize scholars when you see them?”
And angrily Guno and Koyo seized hold of the boy and decided to take him with them as a servant. But the boy said, “Old men, I don’t wish to go with you.”
“If he will not walk, we must carry him,” Guno said.
“Yes,” Koyo echoed, “if the impudent buffalo boy does not walk, we shall carry him.”
So Koyo took the boy’s feet and Guno took his arms, and they began to carry him. After a while Guno said, "This end is heavier, let us change." So Koyo took the boy by the shoulders and Guno by the feet, and they carried him further, stopping now and then to change ends. When they came to a spring, they set him down and ordered him to bring them water, but he refused. So Guno and Koyo went and brought water for the boy, who lay on the ground in the shade. When they came to a village, they ordered him to go and buy food for them, but he refused, so Koyo went and brought back food for Guno and the boy.
Carrying their servant this way, Koyo the Hakim and Guno the Hadji struggled up and down the trails. At night they were too tired to discuss learned subjects.
In the morning they slung the boy between them and carried him on their shoulders. After a while Koyo, the scholar, said: “Let us stop, I have made a great scientific discovery.” They stopped, and standing on the trail, Koyo continued. “Haven’t you noticed how much heavier our servant is than when we first found him?”
“Yes, Guno said, “but it was a nonreligious matter, so I said nothing. There is nothing to explain it in the Koran.”
“Perhaps it is his lack of exercise,” Koyo said. “He should do more walking.”
But the boy refused to walk or do services for the two men, so they continued to carry him and bring him food and water.
At last, one evening, exhausted by their efforts, Guno and Koyo plotted to escape from their servant. When they thought he was sleeping, they arose and started to slip quietly away, but the boy was awake, and he called to them: “Wait, old men, where are you going?”
“Is this the way one talks to a hakim?” Koyo said weakly.
“Or to a hadji?” Guno added.
They came back then and slept, and in the morning they again had to carry their servant. That night, exhausted, they again tried to slip away, but the boy stopped them. “Where are you going tonight, old men?” he asked.
“Why, we were going into the great city of Jakarta to buy some food for all of us,” Koyo said.
“I think you were trying to run away from me,” the boy said.
“Not at all,” Guno said. “I’ll tell you what: you go into Jakarta to get the food.”
“Oh no, you would run away while I am gone,” the boy said.
“Will we ever be rid of this unwelcome guest?” Koyo said angrily.
“Yes, why does he dog our footsteps?” Koyo echoed.
“I think we shall have to take him back where he comes from,” Guno said.
“Yes, why do people always tag after scholars and philosophers?” Koyo added.
So in the morning Guno the Hadji and Koyo the Hakim hoisted the boy on their shoulders and began the long journey back to the village where they had found him.
•••••
Sugested by
Linda Conte
Croton-on-Hudson, NY
9) INDONESIA
The Golden Snail
[Keong Mas or the Golden Snail was a transformation of a princess who had been cursed by a witch.
Adjacent to Taman Mini Indonesia Indah (TMII) Jakarta, you'll find a huge theatre resembling a snail in golden hues, a cinerama theatre boasting a circular three dimensional screen, called Keong Mas ( The Golden Snail). It is reported to be the largest of its kind in the world. According to it, here is a legend of the Keong Mas.]
Story:
Prince Raden Putra was married to a princess named Dewi Limaran. One day when Dewi Limaran was walking in the palace garden, she saw a snail among her lovely flowers and she had one of her servants pick it up and throw it away. The Snail was actually an old witch who had disguised herself as a snail. The witch was very angry, so she cursed Dewi Limaran and changed her into a golden snail and threw it into the river. The stream carried it far away from the palace.
On the side of a big forest, there lived a poor widow. Her living was only fishing. One day it was a particularly bad day as she didn't catch any fish. Again and again she spread her net, but nothing got caught into it. At last she pulled up the net to go home. Suddenly she saw something shining at the bottom of it. It was only a snail. Nevertheless she picked it up and took it home. Its shell shone like gold the old woman had never seen such a snail before.
At home she put it in an earthen pot. She then went to bed and soon was fast asleep as she was very tired. The next morning when she woke up, she found to her amazement that the floor had been swept clean and there was some food on the table. She wondered who had done all this. She thought she was dreaming, but she was not. She thought and thought but could not think of anybody who could have been so generous to her.
Some days passed….…..she then got an idea. The next morning she took her basket and went out as usual, but shortly she returned to her hut and hid herself. Suddenly she heard a soft movement inside the earthen pot and saw the snail creeping out of it. It grew bigger and bigger and in a moment a lovely young girl stood where the snail had been. The empty shell fell to the ground behind her. Quickly the young girl swept the floor. Then she took rice, vegetables, meat, eggs etc. out of the pot and began cooking.
When the old woman saw all this, she noticed that it was not an ordinary snail she had caught, but a person who lived under a spell, and she knew what she had to do to break it.
She crept stealthily to the empty shell, took it, and then rushed out of the hut to throw it into the river. Now she had broken only a part of the spell, and the rest of it must still be broken before she could return to her husband.
The young girl then made herself known to the old woman.
"I shall pray to the gods that the prince might be led to his place," said the old woman.
Many years passed by…….
The king persuaded his son to look for another bride, but at first Prince Raden Putra refused as he could not forsake his wife. In the end, however, the prince asked his father if he could go out to find a bride, but one who was a look-alike of his former wife. An old faithful servant accompanied him on his trip.
They went from town to town and from village to village until one day were travelling through a big forest and they lost their way. Finally the men came to a big river and not far from it they saw a hut. They went to it to ask for some food and drink as they were hungry, thirsty and dead tired. The old woman welcomed them warmly. Raden Putra found the meal served by the old woman excellent. She told him that her daughter had prepared it. Raden Putra then asked whether he might meet and thank her daughter. The old woman had no objections and called her daughter to come out. The young girl appeared and knelt down in front of Raden Putra with her head bent.
When Raden Putra saw her, he caught his breath in great surprise as the young girl looked exactly like his former wife princess Dewi Limaran. "You are the bride I'm looking for!" he cried out. But the girl shook her head and said that she had made a promise : when a man wanted to marry her, he had to obtain the holy gamelan ( Javanese orchestra) from heaven which could make music without being touched.
Raden Putra was willing to try and went out into the forest. He then fasted and meditated. After a hundred days the gods heard and granted his wish.
On their wedding day the holy gamelan played its heavenly music. It was so beautiful that every person who heard it felt happier than ever.
The young girl than revealed her secret, that she was Dewi Limaran herself. The music of the gamelan had broken the evil witch's spell.
The old woman had been invited to remain in the place. Now she had everything she wanted and sorrow had left her forever.
•••••
Source:
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/6666/golden.html
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT THE MALDIVE ISLANDS:
1) MALDIVES
Folklore, both real and fantasy, from the Maldives.
Fanditha Magic
http://www.maldivesculture.com/fandit04.html
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2) MALDIVES
The Maldive Islanders, A Study of the Popular Culture of an Ancient Ocean Kingdom.
http://www.maj.s5.com/maldives_romero_frias.htm
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3) MALDIVES
A Glimpse of Maldivian History - stories woven in
http://www.travelin-maldives.com/history.htm
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4) MALDIVES
The legendary love story of Dhon Hiyala and Ali Fulhu
http://www.geocities.com/hilath/dhon_hiyala.htm
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT SOMALIA:
1) SOMALIA
Folktales From Somalia by Ahmed Artan Hanghe:
A pioneering work in the documentation of the Somali treasure of folktales. The book contains a selection of folktales in Somali with translations into English.
209 pages, May 1988
paper , 91 7106 377 3 , $24.95
http://styluspub.com/books/AuthorDetail.aspx?id=8991
http://styluspub.com/books/BookDetail.aspx?productID=96606
2) SOMALIA
Folktales From Somalia by Axmed Cartan Xaange
Released: 1999, Format: Paperback
http://www.bizrate.com/marketplace/search/search__cat_id--8046,prod_id--11467400.html
(available at Wal-Mart and Amazon.com)
3) SOMALIA
Tales of Punt: Somali Folktales, as retold by Abdi Abdulkadir Sheik-Abdi
Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Abdi A. Sheik-Abdi, a native of Somalia, currently resides in the United States of America. He holds B.A. and M.A. degrees in English Literature and African Studies from the State University of New York and a doctorate in African History from Boston University. He taught both in Somalia and the U.S. and is the author of numerous short stories, a collection of fables, as well as articles and essays. These include "The Luncheon," a short story, and "Arrawelo: The Castrator of Men," a Somalian fable. In addition to this novel, he is the author of two other books, namely Divine Madness: Mohammed Abdulle Hassan (1992) and When a Hyena Laughs.
Product Description:
A collection of eight Somali Folktales as retold by Abdi Abdulkadir Sheik-Abdi.
Customer Reviews
An entertaining little book, October 21, 2002
Reviewer: Kurt A. Johnson (Marseilles, Illinois, USA) - See all my reviews
This wonderful book is a collection of eight folktales personally collected in Somalia by Professor Abdi A. Sheik-Abdi, a native of that country. The tales are all traditional tales, which explain nature or teach lessons. My personal favorite was The Damsel and The Lion--woe to him (or her) who breaks a pledge!
This is an entertaining little book. If you are interested in African folktales, then I highly recommend this book to you.
Fascinating Folk Tales of Somalia, December 31, 1998
Reviewer: A reader
Abdi Sheik Abdi is probably the most knowledgeable person I know on the topic of Somalia. It is not just that he was born and raised there, although I suspect that has something to do with it! He is a scholar who has spent a great deal of his life researching and striving to understand his culture. Fortunately, he has chosen to share those findings with us in his writings. Tales of Punt is one such sharing. Eight Somalia folk tales retold in English by Dr. Sheik Abdi give insight into the belief system of the Somalia people. A fascinating read. I strongly recommend this and all the other books by Abdi Sheik Abdi.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0963880225/002-7349320-6965613
Available at amazon.com for sale or might be in your public library.
STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT SRI LANKA:
1) SRI LANKA
Stories from Sri Lanka (17)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/sri_lanka/
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2) SRI LANKA
Mama Bird and Her Babies
[A Sri Lankan Folktale adapted by Marcia Gutiérrez, Quilted Tales, from Judy Sierra's book Multicultural Folktales for the Feltboard and Reader's Theater (J398.2 Sierra). It's a chain tale and I use it as one of my bilingual stories changing the carpenter to a woodpecker so the child can use a clacker to make the woodpecker sounds. It's great for participation and I have used it with children of all ages in family settings. I have found that picking the child or adult who is to play an animal as I tell the story works much better than asking for volunteers before I begin. It's also a surprise for the participant for I have them make the movement of the animal before they themselves know what they are.]
Story:
Mama Bird was looking for a place to make her nest. She looked all over and finally found the perfect place---a hole high up in a tree.
She carefully made a nest from.... (ask audience what birds use)
and filled it up with soft..... (ask audience what birds use to make a soft lining in a nest)
Then she laid 3 eggs and sat on them for a long, long time.
One day she felt something and tap, tap, tap, one bird poked its head out.
Tap, tap, tap, the second bird poked its head out.
Tap, tap, tap, the third bird poked its head out.
Mama Bird sat on her babies to keep them warm and she fed them what baby birds really like.......(ask audience what that is and someone always says "Worms!")
Yes! Worms----regurgitated worms!
Well, those birds eat a lot and they grew and grew and grew till one day they were big enough to come out of their nest and learn to fly!
Oh, oh. The three baby birds had grown so big that they couldn't get out! So.......
Mama Bird asked the woodpecker if he/she* would peck a hole big enough so that her babies could come out and learn to fly and woodpecker said, "No, why should I?"
So... Mama Bird asked the snake if he/she would bite the big toe of woodpecker so woodpecker would peck a hole big enough so that her babies could come out and learn to fly and snake said, "No, why should I?"
So... Mama Bird asked the elephant if he/she would step on the tail of snake so the snake would bite the big toe of woodpecker so woodpecker would peck a hole big enough so that her babies could come out and learn to fly and elephant said, "No, why should I?"
So... Mama Bird asked the mouse if he/she would run up the trunk of elephant and tickle him/her so elephant would step on the tail of snake so the snake would bite the big toe of woodpecker so woodpecker would peck a hole big enough so that her babies could come out and learn to fly and mouse said, "No, why should I?"
So... Mama Bird asked the cat if he/she would chase the mouse up the trunk of elephant and tickle him/her so elephant would step on the tail of snake so the snake would bite the big toe of woodpecker so woodpecker would peck a hole big enough so that her babies could come out and learn to fly and cat said, "Oh! I love to chase mice."
So... Cat chased the mouse up elephant's trunk tickling elephant and elephant stepped on the tail of snake and snake bit the big toe of woodpecker and woodpecker pecked a bigger hole and Mama Bird's three babies came out and they learned how to fly.
*Note: Animal's gender depends on the participant. Also, I have the participants make movements that are common for these animals. For the woodpecker I have a wood clacker the child can use.
•••••
Contributed by
Marcia Gutiérrez
Quiltedtales@aol.com
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3) SRI LANKA
The Trial at Avichara-Pura
[found in The Tiger’s Whisker and other tales from Asia and the Pacific by Harold Courlander, Henry Holt & Company, New York Copyright 1959, 1987.]
Story:
It happened one time in the village of Avichara-pura that a band of thieves broke into the house of a rich man and stole his money and jewelry. The victim reported the burglary, and police officers went out at once in search of the thieves. They found them nearby and brought them into court. The judge then listened to the complaint of the man whose property had been stolen. Turning to the thieves, he asked them: “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“Yes,” the thieves replied. “We weren’t really to blame for the burglary at all. It was the man who built the house who was responsible. He made the walls badly. They were thin and rotten and broke through at the slightest push. If it hadn’t been for the weak walls, we never would have been tempted to break into the house and steal.”
The judge frowned and pondered over this reply, “That is reasonable,” he said at last, “very reasonable.” And he ordered that the mason who had constructed the house should be brought before him. When the mason arrived, he was accused of responsibility for the theft at the rich man’s house.
“You see what your bad work has come to,” the judge said sadly. “It has ended in crime.”
“Oh, but the fault wasn’t mine,” the mason said. “It was the laborer who mixed the mortar who was responsible. He was careless, and the mortar he gave me to work with was so badly mixed that it wouldn’t hold the stones together.”
Hearing this, the judge shook his head solemnly and sent for the laborer who had mixed the mortar. When he came and heard of the crime he was charged with, he said: “Oh, but it wasn’t my fault. It is true that the mortar wasn’t good. But the culprit is the potter who sold me a cracked pot, which wouldn’t hold enough water to mix the mortar properly.”
The judge frowned at this news. And he sent for the potter. “You see what your bad pot has brought you to,” the judge said sternly. “Because of your poor work a crime has been committed. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Indeed I do,” the potter said. “A beautiful woman was the cause of it all. You see, just as I was working on that pot, she passed by, and I couldn’t tale my eyes from her. It was while I was looking at her that the pot developed a flaw.”
Now the judge’s temper was rising. “Bring the woman in!” he ordered.
The police went out and found the woman and brought her into court.
“So!” the judge said sternly. “At last it has been revealed that you are the one responsible for the burglary! Just when the potter was working on the pot, you went by and distracted him. He made a bad pot, which didn’t hold enough water to make a decent mortar, so that the walls of the house were weak and tempted these men here to enter and go off with the money and jewels. Do you have any defense?”
The woman answered: “I wouldn’t have been near the potter’s place at all if the goldsmith had sent my earrings as he had promised to do. I had to go after then myself, and I had to pass the potter’s house. The guilt belongs to the goldsmith.”
Then the judge angrily ordered the goldsmith brought in and accused him of the crime. The goldsmith couldn’t think of a single word to say in his own defense. The judge roared at him to speak, but the goldsmith was speechless. At last the judge ordered the man to be hanged.
But the people of the village protested. They said: “After all. We do need a goldsmith in our village. Can’t you suspend the sentence?”
“A crime has been committed,” the judge said sternly, “ and someone must hang for it!”
“Well, you are right,” the villagers said. “Justice is justice, and someone must hang. But since the goldsmith can’t be spared, let us hang the first stranger who comes through Avichara-pura.”
“That is a wise solution,” the judge said thoughtfully. And he decreed then and there that the first stranger to arrive in the village should be strung up without any further talk. The case was closed, and the court adjourned.
When word of the trial went from one place to another, people stopped coming to Avichara-pura altogether. And after that, whenever some silly act was carried out in the name of justice, people said: “Its just like the trial at Avichara-pura..”
•••••
Suggested by
Linda Conte
Croton-on-Hudson, NY USA
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4) SRI LANKA
The Frog Prince
[H. Parker, Sri Lanka (Northwestern Province)]
Story:
At a city there is a certain king; a widow lives at a house near his palace. She subsists by going to this royal palace and pounding rice there; having handed it over, she takes away the rice powders and lives on it.
During the time while she was getting a living in this way, she bore a frog, which she reared there. When it was grown up, the king of that city caused this proclamation to be made by beat of tom-toms: "I will give half my kingdom, and goods amounting to an elephant's load to the person who brings the Jeweled Golden Cock that is at the house of the Rakshasi (Ogress).
The frog took the bundle of rice, and hanging it from his shoulder, went to an Indi (wild date) tree, scraped the leaf off a date spike (the mid-rib of the leaf), and strung the rice on it. While going away after stringing it, the frog then became like a very good-looking royal prince, and a horse and clothing for him made their appearance there. Putting on the clothes he mounted the horse, and making it bound along he went on till he came to a city.
Hearing that he had arrived, the king of that city prepared quarters for this prince to stay at, and having given him ample food and drink, asked, "Where art thou going?"
Then the Prince said: "The King of our city has made a proclamation by beat of tom-toms, that he will give half his kingdom and an elephant's load of gold to the person who brings him the Jeweled Golden Cock that is at the Rakshasi's house. Because of it I am going to fetch the Jeweled Golden Cock."
The King, being pleased with the prince on account of it, gave him a piece of charcoal. "Should you be unable to escape from the Rakshasi while returning after taking the Jeweled Golden Cock, tell this piece of charcoal to be created a fire-fence, and cast it down," he said. Taking it, he went to another city.
The king of that city in that very manner having prepared quarters, and made ready and given him food and drink, asked, "Where art thou going?" The prince replied in the same words, "I am going to bring the Jeweled Golden Cock that is at the house of the Rakshasi." That king also being pleased on account of it, gave him a stone, "Should you be unable to escape from the Rakshasi, tell this stone to be created a mountain, and cast it down," he said.
Taking the charcoal and the stone which those two kings gave him, he went to yet another city. The king also in that very manner having given him quarters, and food and drink, asked, "Where art thou going?" The prince in that very way said, "I am going to bring the Jeweled Golden Cock." That King also being greatly pleased gave him a thorn. "Should you be unable to escape from the Rakshasi, tell a thorn fence to be created, and cast down this thorn," he said.
On the next day he went to the house of the Rakshasi. She was not at home; the Rakshasi's daughter was there. That girl having seen the prince coming and not knowing him, asked "Elder brother, elder brother, where are you going?"
The prince said, "Younger sister, I am not going anywhere whatever. I came to beg at your hands the Jeweled Golden Cock which you have got."
To that she replied, "Elder brother, today indeed I am unable to give it. Tomorrow I can. Should my mother come now she will eat you; for that reason come and hide yourself."
Calling him into the house, she put him in a large trunk at the bottom of seven trunks, and shut him up in it.
After a little time had passed, the Rakshasi came back. Having come and seen that the prince's horse was there, she asked her daughter, "Whose is this horse?"
Then the Rakshasi's daughter replied, "Nobody's whatever. It came out of the jungle, and I caught it to ride on."
The Rakshasi having said, "If so, it is good," came in. While lying down to sleep at night, the sweet odor of the prince having reached the Rakshasi, she said to her daughter, "What is this, Bola*? A smell of a fresh human body is coming to me."
Then the Rakshasi's daughter said, "What, mother! Do you say so? You are constantly eating fresh bodies; how can there not be an odor of them?"
After that, the Rakshasi, taking those words for the truth, went to sleep.
At dawn on the following day, as soon as she arose, the Rakshasi went to seek human flesh for food. After she had gone, the Rakshasa-daughter, taking out the prince who was shut up in the box, told that prince a. device on going away with the Jeweled Golden Cock: "Elder brother, if you. are going away with the cock, take some cords and fasten them round my shoulders. Having put them round me, take the cock, and having mounted the horse, go off, making him bound quickly. When you have gone, I shall cry out. Mother comes when I give three calls. After she has come, loosening me will occupy much time; then you will be able to get away."
In the way she said, the Prince tied the Rakshasa-daughter, and taking the Jeweled Golden Cock mounted the horse, and making it bound quickly came away.
As that Rakshasa-daughter said, while she was calling out, the Rakshasi came. Having come, after she looked about (she found that) the Rakshasa-daughter was tied, and the Jeweled Golden Cock had been taken away. After she had asked, "Who was it? Who took it?" the Rakshasa-daughter said, "I don't know who it was." After that, she very quickly unfastened the Rakshasa-daughter, and both of them came running to eat that Prince.
The Prince was unable to go quickly. While going, the Prince turned round, and on looking back saw that this Rakshasi and the Rakshasa-daughter were coming running to eat that Prince.
After that, he cast down the thorn which the above-mentioned king of the third city gave him, having told a thorn fence to be created. A thorn fence was created. Having jumped over it, they came on.
After that, when he had put down the piece of stone which the king of the second city gave him, and told a mountain to be created a mountain was created. They sprang over that mountain also, and came on.
After that, he cast down the charcoal which the king of the first city gave him, having told a fire fence to be created. In that very manner, a fire fence was created. Having come to it, while jumping over it, both of them were burnt and died.
From that place, the prince came along. While coming, he arrived at the Indi tree on which he had threaded the rice, and having taken off it all that dried-up rice, he began to eat it. On coming to the end of it, the person who was like that prince again became a Frog.
After he became a frog, the clothes that he was wearing, and the horse, and the Jeweled Golden Cock vanished. Out of grief on that account, that frog died at that very place.
•••••
Source: H. Parker, Village Folk Tales of Ceylon (1910), v. 1, pp. 59-62.
*"Bola" is a word without any special meaning in English, often used in addressing a person familiarly and somewhat disrespectfully. [footnote by Parker]
http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/frog.html#grimm2
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STORIES FROM AND INFORMATION ABOUT THAILAND:
1) THAILAND
Here are a few sites with stories from Thailand:
FolkTales January 1996 (subscription only)
http://www.worldandi.com/newhome/wwft/1996/1_Jan/Html/index.htm
FolkTales February 1996 (subscription only)
http://www.worldandi.com/newhome/wwft/1996/2_Feb/Html/index.htm
Stories and Legends About Thailand
HM Tak Sin the Great
http://www.guidetothailand.com/thailand-culture/stories/taksin.htm
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2) THAILAND
Here's a list of 15 books to buy with folktales and stories from Thailand, Indonesia, India, South-East Asia and others.
http://www.selectbooks.com.sg/subcat/457.htm
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3) THAILAND
Mostly Asian recipes. But some stories (I couldn't find folklore here, though it's supposed to be there) at the second URL.
http://asiarecipe.com/
http://asiarecipe.com/thailand.html
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4)
THAILAND
The Star Stories of Thailand - full text (Copyright © 1999 Kathy Miles and Charles F. Peters II)
http://starryskies.com/articles/dln/10-99/thailand.html
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5) THAILAND
Stories from Thailand (324)
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/thailand/
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6) THAILAND
Kammu (northern Thailand):
(another version of the Flood story above)
A brother and sister tried to dig out a bamboo rat, but it told them it was digging to escape a coming flood and instructed them to seal themselves inside a drum to save themselves. They did so. Some richer people took refuge on rafts, but the rafts overturned when the waters receded, and those people died. The brother and sister made a hole, saw water, sealed the drum again, and waited longer. The second time they made a hole, they saw dry land and emerged. (In another version, they took along a needle and knew the flood was over when no water leaked in the hole they poked.) They looked far and wide for mates, but they were the only survivors. A malcoha cuckoo sang to them, "brother and sister should embrace one another." They slept together. After seven years, the child was born as a gourd. They put it behind their house and went about their work. Later, hearing noises from the gourd, they burnt a hole in its shell, and people of the different races came out, first Rumeet, then Kammu, Thai, Westerner, and Chinese. The Rumeet are darker because they rubbed off charcoal around the hole. At first, none of those people could speak. They sat down in a row on a tree trunk, it broke, and they all cried out, and with that they were able to speak. Later, the different people all learned different ways of writing. [Lindell et. al., pp. 268-278]
http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/flood-myths.html#AndamanIs
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7) THAILAND
The Elephant and the Bees
[
Retold from Thai Tales by Supaporn Vathanaprida, Ed. by Margaret Read MacDonald (Libraries Unlimited, 1994). New telling copyright Wajuppa Tossa and Margaret Read MacDonald.]
Story:
Once a forest fire raged through the forest.
The elephants were terrified.
They did not know which way to go to escape.
Just then a cloud of bees buzzed over their heads.
“Oh Bees! Bees!
Help us escape!
You can fly high in the air and see where the flames are coming.
Tell us which way to go!”
“Bzzzz Bzzzz sure. We’ll help you.”
The bees flew high into the air.
They looked to the east.
FIRE!
They looked to the west.
FIRE!
They looked to the south.
FIRE!
They looked to the north.
Ohhhh. There was a river.
The elephants could be safe there.
“Come on elephants.
We will lead you to safety.
Follow us!”
And they led the way.
“Bzzzzzzzzz”
Up the hill.
“Bzzzzzzzz”
Down the hill.
“Bzzzzzzz”
Right over the river!
“Wade on in elephants!
You will be safe here!”
The elephants waded into the deep water until only the tips of their little noses were showing.
In those days the elephants had short, short noses....like a pig!
Just then the flames came over the hilltop and the smoke began to billow down the hill.
“Oh, HELP! HELP!” buzzed the bees.
“This smoke will kill US!
We saved YOU, elephants.
Now you must save US.
Open your mouths!
Open your mouths and let us come inside so we will be safe from the smoke!”
“What?
Open our mouths?”
But the elephants had to repay the bees.
So they opened their mouths wide.
“Bzzzzzzz.....”
The bees all went inside the elephant’s heads.
The elephants closed their mouths.
Now their heads sounded like “bzzzzzzzzzzz.....” inside!
But they kept their mouths shut to save the bees.
The flames roared down the hill.
When they came to the river the flames JUMPED the river
and roared up the other hill and away.
When the smoke had cleared away the elephants opened their mouths.
“Okay bees! You can come out now.”
“Bzzzzzzz.....never mind.....we LIKE it in here.” Said the bees.
“It is nice and warm and moist and dark.
We are going to stay here and make our honey!”
The elephant’s heads were going “Bzzzzzzzz.....”
They thought they would go crazy!
“Oh my goodness. We HAVE to get those bees out.
What will we do?”
“I know! We can WASH them out!”
“Good idea!”
The elephants each took a BIG mouthful of water and BLEW it out their NOSES!
“Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!”
It didn’t work.
“Try harder, elephants!”
“Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!”
“It isn’t working!
Blow HARDER!
“Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!
Prae Praen!”
“STOP STOP!
Look what is happening to our NOSES!”
Everytime the elephants blew...their noses got a little longer!
Now they were almost touching the ground!
“This isn’t working.
We have to think of something else.
The bees were afraid of smoke.
Maybe we could SMOKE them out.
The elephants built a little smokey fire.
They all leaned over it and each took a deep breath....and HELD it.
It worked!
Those bees couldn’t stand that smoke.
They flew right out of the elephant’s long noses.
But the bees had really liked living inside the elephant’s heads.
So to this day they make their homes inside hollow trees in the forest.
They look for a dark hole shaped just like the inside of an elephant’s head.
They are called Phung Phrong.
And the elephants...
sometimes they feel as if those bees are STILL crawling around inside their heads.
When that happens they just suck up lots of water and squirt it out their noses to WASH OUT ALL THE
BEES!
So if you see an elephant squirting water around, tell him “Don’t worry, Mr. Elephant.
The bees are all gone.
The bees are all gone.”
•••••
Notes on tale: This story is retold from The Elephants and the Bees in Thai Tales: Folktales of Thailand by Supaporn Vathanaprida, edited by Margaret Read MacDonald (Libraries Unlimited, 1994). The story was shaped by the Mahasarakham Storytelling Troupe through repeated tandem tellings, and especially by Prasong Saihong and Dr. Wajuppa Tossa.
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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8) THAILAND
If It Belongs to Us, It Will Come To Us
[Retold by Margaret Read MacDonald from Thai Tales: Folktales of Thailand by Supaporn Vathanaprida (Libraries Unlimited, 1994).]
Story:
There once was an old man and an old woman.
They worked very hard. Still they were very poor.
Now there was a large termite mound in their rice field.
One day the old man decided to remove it.
As the old man was digging away at the mound, his hoe struck something hard.
He dug the object out and discovered a large jar!
It was very heavy.
Then he opened the jar....it was filled with gold!
“Wife! Come quickly and look!
Someone has hidden a jar of gold in our rice field!”
The wife hurried over to help clear the dirt from the jar.
Sure enough...it was filled to the brim with gold.
“Old man, find something to carry this home!”
But the old man shook his head.
“Dear Old Woman, I do not think that is a good idea.
This gold does not belong to us.
We should leave it where we found it.”
The old woman argued.
But the old man insisted, saying
“If it belongs to us, it will come to us.
We cannot take what is not ours.”
Back in the village, the old woman told her neighbors about the gold.
They just laughed. But they told the silly story to others.
Some passing buffalo traders heard about this.
They found the termite mound in the field and dug around.
Sure enough...there was a large jar.
They dug it out.
They opened it.
“AAACK!” Inside lay coiled a huge poisonous snake!
It’s body filled the jar!
“That old couple were telling lies.
We should teach them a lesson!”
They hoisted the heavy jar onto their wagon and carried it back into the village.
They unloaded the jar at the door of the old couple’s home and opened it....so that the snake inside would be sure to crawl into their house.
Then they left.
The next morning the old woman got up before dawn as usual to prepare their breakfast. She stumbled over the jar as she tried to go outside.
She gave a cry of fright and her husband jumped up to see what was wrong.
There was the huge jar, lying on it’s side at their door.
And spilling from the jar, into the house was...a treasure hoard of gold!
“This is the jar from our field!
It has come to US!
Husband, does this mean that we can keep it now?”
“Yes,” her husband agreed. “ The gold came here.
So it must be ours.
It is not necessary to take things which are not yours.
If they are meant for you, they will arrive.
This thing that I said is true: “If it belongs to us. It will come to us.”
•••••
Contributed by
Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
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9) THAILAND
The Freedom Bird
by David Holt ©1979 from Ready-To-Tell Tales
In l971 I was on a music tour of the Far East for the U.S. State Department. We spent several days in Chiang Mai, Thailand performing and meeting the people. At this time the Thai people were afraid the Vietnamese were going to overrun their country and everyone was on edge. I heard this simple yet powerful story from a young boy who was our unofficial guide around Chiang Mai. He said, "The story gives us courage." The song in this tale is a melody the children in Thailand use to taunt one another. Since that time this story has found a life of its own in the storytelling community. I am glad to see it is being told.
Story:
Once a long time ago there was a hunter walking through the woods. Far off in the forest he heard the faint sound of a bird singing a very strange song:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
The hunter walked and walked until at last he came to a tree with a beautiful golden bird sitting in the top.
He said, "Why does such a beautiful bird like you have such an ugly song?"
The bird looked down at the hunter and sang:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
The hunter said, "If you don't stop singing, I'm going to shoot you with my bow and arrow!"
The bird just looked down and sang again in a mocking voice:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
The hunter put an arrow in his bow and shot.....and he missed. The golden bird sang again:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.)
The hunter put another arrow in his bow and shot again. The arrow went right through the bird's heart. As the bird began to fall, the hunter rushed under the tree and caught it in his sack. He pulled the sack tight and started to walk home. But from down inside the bag, he heard the muffled singing of the bird:
(Storyteller keeps mouth closed and hums)
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience mimics and repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah,nah,nah,nah).
The hunter took the bird home, pulled it out of the sack, put it on the chopping block and plucked all the feathers from it. When he turned around to get a knife to cut the bird up, he heard over on the chopping block:
(Teller and audience fold their arms and shiver when they sing this line.)
"Brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr."
(audience repeats: brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr)
The hunter took the knife and cut the bird up into a hundred small pieces, and then scraped them into a large pot full of water and put it on the stove to boil. When the water began to boil, he heard from down inside the pot, the bird singing:
(Teller and audience make a gurgling type sound when they sing the song.)
"Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh."
(audience repeats: Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh)
Now the hunter was starting to get mad. He took the pot outside and put it on the ground and found himself a shovel and started to dig a deep, deep hole. When the hole was way over his head, he climbed out and poured all the parts of the bird into the hole and covered it with dirt. And as he turned to go back into the house, he heard from deep down in the ground the bird singing:
(Teller and audience sing song with hand over mouth to give muffled sound).
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
Now the hunter was furious. He grabbed his shovel and dug up every piece of the bird and put them in a little wooden box, and tied a large rock across the box with some rope. He went down to the river and threw the box as far as he could out into the water. It splashed and went straight to the bottom. He stood on the bank waiting to hear the sound of the bird. He heard nothing, so he went home. At the bottom of the river, the water loosened the rope around the box. The rock fell off and the box floated to the top of the water. It drifted along the river for three days. On the third day, the box floated by some children who were playing on the banks of the river. They saw this beautiful wooden box passing by and they wanted to know what was in it. They waded into the water and brought the box to shore.
When they opened it, out flew a hundred golden birds all singing in a full voice:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
About a year later, the very same hunter was walking through the woods. And far off in the distance, he heard the strange sound of the bird singing. He walked and walked until at last he came to the same tree where he had first seen the strange bird. But this time when he looked up in the tree, instead of seeing one bird, he saw a hundred golden birds. He raised his hands and hollered out, "I know who you are now. You're the Freedom Bird, for you cannot be killed."
And all the birds looked down and sang to him at the same time:
"Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah."
(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)
Telling tips: This story is easy to tell and always works. Although the tale is aimed at children, adults respond to the powerful ending. I usually start out by reminding the audience of our own cultural taunting song. Then I demonstrate how the Thai people sing their tune and get the audience to singalong. You could then mention where you got the story and then launch into it.
Throughout the story when the bird sings his song I usually sing the tune first and then motion to the audience to sing it again with me. Some of the singing has a gesture with it, such as shivering or covering your mouth. The audience will quickly catch on and follow your lead.
Classical composer Carl Orff has arranged a version of this story for the Orff insturments. He added the clap at the end of the tune which I have included in my version as it rounds out the melodic timing and brings the audience together. •••••
Contributed by
David Holt
http://www.davidholt.com/story/readytales/freedombird.html
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10) THAILAND
The Singing Ape of Thailand
[Cultural vs. BiologicalExplanations for the Song of the Lar Gibbon
L. Hasadsri, Anthropology
In traditional Thai folklore, gibbons are thought to be the reincarnation of disappointed lovers. The source of their mournful songs is believed to be the spirit of a grieving princess calling out to her lost husband in a hopeless yet never-ending search for him. What originally fueled this famous belief is the fact that lar gibbons (Hylobates lar), inhabitants of the rain forests found throughout Thailand, can often be heard singing, from the treetops, "Pua, pua, pua," or a similar sounding series of whoops and wails. Pua is the Thai word (albeit somewhat vulgar) for husband. Thai legend has it that this is how the gibbon came to be.]
Story:
Long ago when the stars were young and the gods shared their magic with mortal men, a young prince named Chantakorop was sent to study under a hermit in the jungle. Only hermits knew the magic of the gods. Life would have been tiresome and boring for the prince had it not been for the hermit’s daughter, Mora,1 who entertained him with her graceful dancing and brought him bananas, phutsa1 (a type of fruit), and slices of durian melon.
When Chantakorop’s studies were complete, he left to return to his palace and claim the throne. Before he set out on his journey, the hermit presented him with a clay urn. "Within this urn is a gift I hope you will treasure forever. It contains your heart’s greatest desire," said the hermit, "However, you may not open the urn until you reach your father’s palace. If you open it before you have reached the safety of your own kingdom, great misfortune will befall upon you." The prince vowed to obey the hermit’s words, and gratefully took the gift and held his high while the hermit bowed (according to Thai tradition, a prince’s head never bends lower than that of a common man). "Sawasdee (goodbye)," said the hermit, "Do not forget what I have told you; you have been forewarned."
Chantakorop bid his instructor farewell, and embarked on his voyage through the jungle. With each passing day the urn inexplicably grew heavier, and with each step the prince’s curiosity grew as well. Finally, he could wait no longer. He impatiently removed the lid from the urn, and, much to his surprise, Mora, the hermit’s lovely daughter, magically appeared before him.
Chantakorop and Mora were hastily married in the nearest village. Eager to present his bride to his father, the prince anxiously continued his journey toward the royal palace with his new wife. When they were near the outskirts of the kingdom, Chantakorop suddenly remembered the warning the hermit had given him when they had parted, and he realized he had broken his promise to the man. At that moment, a bandit appeared from the shadows and challenged the prince to a fight. Whoever emerged victorious would have Mora as his prize. They fought valiantly, but the prince soon grew weary. The bandit then immediately swung a powerful blow that sent the prince staggering to the ground. Chantakorop’s sword fell beyond his reach. "Mora!" he called, "Quickly, if you cherish my life, bring me my sword!"
Mora reached for the sword, but was momentarily distracted by the sight of the bold bandit and left the sword where it lay. The bandit then seized the weapon for himself and killed the prince in an instant. Shocked by the result of her inaction, Mora bent over the body of her beloved prince and cried, "Pua, pua, pua (husband, husband, husband)."
The bandit took the heartbroken woman away. Mora went willingly, but all she could do the entire time was sadly call out, "Pua, pua, pua." As sunset approached, the gods looked down from the heavens, and the hermit suddenly appeared before his daughter and the bandit. Ashamed at her betrayal, he turned her into a gibbon. From that day on, she has roamed the forest in search of her fallen husband, and the melancholy sound of the gibbon crying, "Pua, pua, pua" is her eternal song of remorse.
In reality, the song of the gibbon is described by scientific rather than colorful cultural explanations. A gibbon’s voice can be heard from up to a mile away, even against the panorama of background noises of the rainforest. According to Jeremy and Patricia Raemakers, the gibbons’ songs are "similar in character and purpose to those of birds."2 Many birds share the same monogamous social system, which consists of a "male-female pair and their dependent young." Songbirds sing to attract a mate, to reinforce the pair-bond if already mated, and to warn of other birds of the same sex. Gibbon songs seem to fit a similar pattern.
•••••
References:
1. Toth, Marian. Tales from Thailand: Folklore, Culture, and History. 1971. Charles E. Tuttle Co. Tokyo, Japan. pp. 97-105
2 Raemakers, Jeremy and Patricia. The Singing Ape: A Journey Into the Jungles of Thailand. 1990. The Anarm Printing Group Co. Bangkok. Thailand. p. xiii - xviii
3 Richard, Alison. Primates in Nature. 1985. W.H. Freeman and Company. New York. P. 332-333, 354.
4 Carpenter, C. Ray. A Field Study in Siam of the Behavior and Social Relations of the Gibbon.1941. The John Hopkins Press. Baltimore, Maryland. p. 55
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/9149/gib.html
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11) THAILAND
The Star Stories of Thailand
[All too often when we think of mythology, we think of the Greek and Roman myths we hear about in school. And indeed, in astronomy, most of the constellations are named after such myths. But people from every culture have looked to the sky and it's nice to hear about what other people thought about then they looked up at the night sky. This week, we will visit Thailand. Three of their best star stories are about constellations which are visible in our night skies now. They are the Pleiades, Sirius and Ursa Major.
Rising in the east this time of year is a small compact group of stars called the Pleiades. They are so compact that you could cover the area of sky they reside in with your outstretched fist. The Pleiades are known as the seven sisters by many cultures. The japanese word for Pleiades is Suburu, and if you look at the emblem on a Suburu vehicle, you will indeed see the seven stars. In Thailand the Pleiades are seen as the Seven Chucks. The really strange thing is that only 6 stars can be seen with the naked eye, yet nearly every culture tells stories of 7 stars! The story of the seven chicks is told like this.]
Stories:
There was a very poor old couple who lived in a forest. All they had was a little brown rice and a hen and seven chicks. One evening a monk camped near their hut. The old folks were worried, because it was the custom that they should offer the monk some food in the morning (the monks did not eat after noon.) By placing some food in the begging bowls which the monks carried around, people acquired merits which would benefit them in future lives. And so this couple wanted to give the monk the very best food that they had, but they were very poor. In the end they decided that they only thing they could offer him was their hen. The hen overheard this, and was very sad. She took her chicks aside and told them that they must look after themselves from now on. Very early the next morning, the old man killed the hen and began to roast her to give to the monk. The chicks were so overcome with grief that they threw themselves onto the fire so that they might always be with their mother. The seven chicks were reborn as stars in the sky, and they are called Dao Look Kai.
Another constellation story from Thailand is about the stars which we call the Big Dipper. This time of year the Big Dipper is low in the northern sky but still easy to spot. According to the people of Thailand, we are looking at a crocodile. This comes from a story about a very wealthy old man who hid all his money buried in the ground in front of his house. After he died, he came to his wife in her dreamworld and told her where the money was and to give a sizable amount to the temple. While his wife was digging up the money, a lot of people said they saw a giant crocodile circling the house, as if to protect the property. As the boat, with the wife and money proceeded to the temple to present the gift, the crocodile was said to lead the procession. People said that the rich husband had been reborn as that crocodile. And to reward him for his generosity, he was reborn as a constellation of a crocodile in the sky! He is called Dao Ja Ra Kae. When people see him they are reminded to do good in this life and they will be rewarded.
The third story from Thailand is about the brightest star in our night sky, Sirius. This bright star has long been referred to as the dog star, and in Thailand it is the sleeping dog star, Dao Mah Lap. Some elder Thai folks say that it is also called Dao Jone , the robber star and that children born at the time this star rises will likely become a member of a robber gang! They say that when this star is in the night sky, dogs fall fast asleep and are not easily wakened, making the life of the robber much easier. In October, Sirius does not rise until very late at night, around 3am but if you are up then, it is such a bright star it is very easy to see even close to the horizon. If you are up that late and see Dao Mah Lap, you might also try waking up your dog!
•••••
Copyright © 1999 Kathy Miles and Charles F. Peters II
http://starryskies.com/articles/dln/10-99/thailand.html
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STORIES ABOUT TSUNAMIs:
1) JAPAN
The Burning Fields (a story about a tsunami)
[by Anu D. Along the sea coast in Japan the earthquakes are sometimes followed by terrible tidal waves, that do more damage even than the earthquakes. This wonderful story tells of such a tidal wave.]
Bones:
Long ago in Japan there lived an old man named Hamaguchi. His farmhouse sat high up on a plateau with a lofty wooded mountain behind it. His land sloped far down to the sea where a little village of about a hundred thatched houses and a temple stood on the shoreline.
One afternoon Hamaguchi sat with his young grandson on the balcony of his house, watching the people in the village below. The rice crop had been good; the villagers were holding their harvest festival. Shops were closed; streets were gaily decorated; villagers were about to join in the harvest dance.
Hamaguchi could see the vast blue sea in the distance. He suddenly felt a mild shock and his house rocked three or four times, then stood still. Hamaguchi had felt many earthquakes before. He was not at all frightened until he looked toward the sea.
The water was dark green and very rough. The tide had suddenly changed --- the sea was running swiftly away from the land! The puzzled villagers stopped their dancing and ran to the shore to watch. But Hamaguchi had seen one such sight as a little child. He knew what the sea was about to do. No time to send a message to the village, no time to ring the big temple bell, yet people must be warned.
"Yone!" he called to his little grandson. "Light a torch! Quick!"
The boy was puzzled, but he lit the torch immediately. The old man ran to the fields, where hundreds of rice stacks stood awaiting sale. It was everything he owned. He ran from one stack to another, applying the torch to each. The dry stalks caught fire quickly, and soon the red flames were shooting upward, and the smoke was rising in great columns.
Yone ran after his grandfather, shouting and crying, "Grandfather! Why are you setting fire to the rice?"
The old man had no time to answer, but ran on, firing stack after stack. The high wind caught the sparks and carried them farther, until all the fields were ablaze.
The watcher in the temple saw the fire and rang the bell; people turned to look. In Japan everyone in the village must give help in time of fire. The people began to run. They climbed the mountain --- young men, boys, women, girls, old folk, mothers with babies on their backs, even little children joined in the race to put out the fires. But when they reached the plateau, it was too late. All the rice was completely burned.
"It is too bad," the people exclaimed. "How did it happen?"
"Grandfather did it," cried Yone. "With a torch he set fire to the rice. He is mad."
"You did this thing !" they cried out in anger to Hamaguchi. "You set fire to your own rice fields! "
"Look toward the sea," said the old man, "and know my purpose."
The people looked, and far out at sea they saw a great wall of water swiftly sweeping toward them. It was the returning sea! The people shrieked, but their voices were lost in the thunderous sound, as the wall of water struck the mountainside below them. The hills were drenched in a great burst of foam.
When the cloud of spray disappeared, the people saw a wild sea raging over their village. Great angry waves seethed and tumbled above the house-tops. They rolled away roaring, tearing out houses and trees and great rocks, and bearing them off. Again the wall of water struck, and again and again, with less force each time. At last it fell back once more to its former bed.
The people were speechless. Their village was gone; their temple; their fields. Nothing was left but a few straw roofs floating on the water. But every man and woman and child was safe high up on the mountain.
Now the people understood why old Hamaguchi had set fire to his rice. There he stood among them. He had lost everything. And they fell on their knees to thank him.
••••
Full text available at:
Ongoing Tales Old Time Fairy Tales
http://www.ongoing-tales.com/SERIALS/oldtime/FAIRYTALES/BurningFields.html
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2) JAPAN
The Burning Fields (another version of tale #1)
Full Text:
Now concerning Hamaguchi.
From immemorial time the shores of Japan have been swept, at irregular intervals of centuries, by enormous tidal waves,--tidal waves caused by earthquakes or by submarine volcanic action. These awful sudden risings of the sea are called by the Japanesetsunami. The last one occurred on the evening of June 17, 1896, when a wave nearly two hundred miles long struck the northeastern provinces of Miyagi, Iwaté, and Aomori, wrecking scores of towns and villages, ruining whole districts, and destroying nearly thirty thousand human lives. The story of Hamaguchi Gohei is the story of a like calamity which happened long before the era of Meiji, on another part of the Japanese coast.
He was an old man at the time of the occurrence that made him famous. He was the most influential resident of the village to which he belonged: he had been for many years its muraosa, or headman; and he was not less liked than respected. The people usually called him Ojiisan, which means Grandfather; but, being the richest member of the community, he was sometimes officially referred to as the Chôja. He used to advise the smaller farmers about their interests, to arbitrate their disputes, to advance them money at need, and to dispose of their rice for them on the best terms possible.
Hamaguchi's big thatched farmhouse stood at the verge of a small plateau overlooking a bay. The plateau, mostly devoted to rice culture, was hemmed in on three sides by thickly wooded summits. From its outer verge the land sloped down in a huge green concavity, as if scooped out, to the edge of the water; and the whole of this slope, some three quarters of a mile long, was so terraced as to look, when viewed from the open sea, like an enormous flight of green steps, divided in the centre by a narrow white zigzag--a streak of mountain road. Ninety thatched dwellings and a Shintô temple, composing the village proper, stood along the curve of the bay; and other houses climbed straggling up the slope for some distance on either side of the narrow road leading to the Chôja's home.
One autumn evening Hamaguchi Gohei was looking down from the balcony of his house at some preparations for a merry-making in the village below. There had been a very fine rice-crop, and the peasants were going to celebrate their harvest by a dance in the court of the ujigami.[1] The old man could see the festival banners (nobori) fluttering above the roofs of the solitary street, the strings of paper lanterns festooned between bamboo poles, the decorations of the shrine, and the brightly colored gathering of the young people. He had nobody with him that evening but his little grandson, a lad of ten; the rest of the household having gone early to the village. He would have accompanied them had he not been feeling less strong than usual.
The day had been oppressive; and in spite of a rising breeze there was still in the air that sort of heavy heat which, according to the experience of the Japanese peasant, at certain seasons precedes an earthquake. And presently an earthquake came. It was not strong enough to frighten anybody; but Hamaguchi, who had felt hundreds of shocks in his time, thought it was queer,--a long, slow, spongy motion. Probably it was but the after-tremor of some immense seismic action very far away. The house crackled and rocked gently several times; then all became still again.
As the quaking ceased Hamaguchi's keen old eyes were anxiously turned toward the village. It often happens that the attention of a person gazing fixedly at a particular spot or object is suddenly diverted by the sense of something not knowingly seen at all,--by a mere vague feeling of the unfamiliar in that dim outer circle of unconscious perception which lies beyond the field of clear vision. Thus it chanced that Hamaguchi became aware of something unusual in the offing. He rose to his feet, and looked at the sea. It had darkened quite suddenly, and it was acting strangely. It seemed to be moving against the wind. It was running away from the land.
Within a very little time the whole village had noticed the phenomenon. Apparently no one had felt the previous motion of the ground, but all were evidently astounded by the movement of the water. They were running to the beach, and even beyond the beach, to watch it.
No such ebb had been witnessed on that coast within the memory of living man. Things never seen before were making apparition; unfamiliar spaces of ribbed sand and reaches of weed-hung rock were left bare even as Hamaguchi gazed. And none of the people below appeared to guess what that monstrous ebb signified.
Hamaguchi Gohei himself had never seen such a thing before; but he remembered things told him in his childhood by his father's father, and he knew all the traditions of the coast. He understood what the sea was going to do. Perhaps he thought of the time needed to send a message to the village, or to get the priests of the Buddhist temple on the hill to sound their big bell. . . . But it would take very much longer to tell what he might have thought than it took him to think. He simply called to his grandson:--
"Tada!--quick,--very quick! . . . Light me a torch."
Taimatsu, or pine-torches, are kept in many coast dwellings for use on stormy nights, and also for use at certain Shintô festivals. The child kindled a torch at once; and the old man hurried with it to the fields, where hundreds of rice-stacks, representing most of his invested capital, stood awaiting transportation. Approaching those nearest the verge of the slope, he began to apply the torch to them,--hurrying from one to another as quickly as his aged limbs could carry him. The sun-dried stalks caught like tinder; the strengthening sea, breeze blew the blaze landward; and presently, rank behind rank, the stacks burst into flame, sending skyward columns of smoke that met and mingled into one enormous cloudy whirl. Tada, astonished and terrified, ran after his grandfather, crying,--
"Ojiisan! why? Ojiisan! why?--why?"
But Hamaguchi did not answer: he had no time to explain; he was thinking only of the four hundred lives in peril. For a while the child stared wildly at the blazing rice; then burst into tears, and ran back to thehouse, feeling sure that his grandfather had gone mad. Hamaguchi went on firing stack after stack, till he had reached the limit of his field; then he threw down his torch, and waited. The acolyte of the hill-temple, observing the blaze, set the big bell booming; and the people responded to the double appeal. Hamaguchi watched them hurrying in from the sands and over the beach and up from the village, like a swarming of ants, and, to his anxious eyes, scarcely faster; for the moments seemed terribly long to him. The sun was going down; the wrinkled bed of the bay, and a vast sallow speckled expanse beyond it, lay naked to the last orange glow; and still the sea was fleeing toward the horizon.
Really, however, Hamaguchi did not have very long to wait before the first party of succor arrived,--a score of agile young peasants, who wanted to attack the fire at once. But the Chôja, holding out both arms, stopped them.
"Let it burn, lads!" he commanded, "let it be! I want the whole mura here. There is a great danger,--taihen da!"
The whole village was coming; and Hamaguchi counted. All the young men and boys were soon on the spot, and not a few of the more active women and girls; then came most of the older folk, and mothers with babies at their backs, and even children,--for children could help to pass water; and the elders too feeble to keep up with the first rush could be seen well on their way up the steep ascent. The growing multitude, still knowing nothing, looked alternately, in sorrowful wonder, at the flaming fields and at the impassive face of their Chôja. And the sun went down.
"Grandfather is mad--I am afraid of him!" sobbed Tada, in answer to a number of questions. "He is mad. He set fire to the rice on purpose: I saw him do it!"
"As for the rice," cried Hamaguchi, "the child tells the truth. I set fire to the rice. . . . Are all the people here?"
The Kumi-chô and the heads of families looked about them, and down the hill, and made reply: "All are here, or very soon will be. . . . We cannot understand this thing."
"Kita!" shouted the old man at the top of his voice, pointing to the open. "Say now if I be mad!"
Through the twilight eastward all looked, and saw at the edge of the dusky horizon a long, lean, dim line like the shadowing of a coast where no coast ever was,--a line that thickened as they gazed, that broadened as a coast-line broadens to the eyes of one approaching it, yet incomparably more quickly. For that long darkness was the returning sea, towering like a cliff, and coursing more swiftly than the kite flies.
"Tsunami!" shrieked the people; and then all shrieks and all sounds and all power to hear sounds were annihilated by a nameless shock heavier than any thunder, as the colossal swell smote the shore with a weight that sent a shudder through the hills, and with a foam-burst like a blaze of sheet-lightning. Then for an instant nothing was visible but a storm of spray rushing up the slope like a cloud; and the people scattered back in panic from the mere menace of it. When they looked again, they saw a white horror of sea raving over the place of their homes. It drew back roaring, and tearing out the bowels of the land as it went. Twice, thrice, five times the sea struck and ebbed, but each time with lesser surges: then it returned to its ancient bed and stayed,--still raging, as after a typhoon.
On the plateau for a time there was no word spoken. All stared speechlessly at the desolation beneath,--the ghastliness of hurled rock and naked riven cliff, the bewilderment of scooped-up deep-sea wrack and shingle shot over the empty site of dwelling and temple. The village was not; the greater part of the fields were not; even the terraces had ceased to exist; and of all the homes that had been about the bay there remained nothing recognizable except two straw roofs tossing madly in the offing. The after-terror of the death escaped and the stupefaction of the general loss kept all lips dumb, until the voice of Hamaguchi was heard again, observing gently,--
"That was why I set fire to the rice."
He, their Chôja, now stood among them almost as poor as the poorest; for his wealth was gone--but he had saved four hundred lives by the sacrifice. Little Tada ran to him, and caught his hand, and asked forgiveness for having said naughty things. Whereupon the people woke up to the knowledge of why they were alive, and began to wonder at the simple, unselfish foresight that had saved them; and the headmen prostrated themselves in the dust before Hamaguchi Gohei, and the people after them.
Then the old man wept a little, partly because he was happy, and partly because he was aged and weak and had been sorely tried.
"My house remains," he said, as soon as he could find words, automatically caressing Tada's brown cheeks; "and there is room for many. Also the temple on the hill stands; and there is shelter there for the others."
Then he led the way to his house; and the people cried and shouted.
The period of distress was long, because in those days there were no means of quick communication between district and district, and the help needed had to be sent from far away. But when better times came, the people did not forget their debt to Hamaguchi Gohei. They could not make him rich; nor would he have suffered them to do so, even had it been possible. Moreover, gifts could never have sufficed as an expression of their reverential feeling towards him; for they believed that the ghost within him was divine. So they declared him a god, and thereafter called him Hamaguchi DAIMYÔJIN, thinking they could give him no greater honor;--and truly no greater honor in any country could be given to mortal man. And when they rebuilt the village, they built a temple to the spirit of him, and fixed above the front of it a tablet bearing his name in Chinese text of gold; and they worshiped him there, with prayer and with offerings. How he felt about it I cannot say;--I know only that he continued to live in his old thatched home upon the hill, with his children and his children's children, just as humanly and simply as before, while his soul was being worshiped in the shrine below. A hundred years and more he has been dead; but his temple, they tell me, still stands, and the people still pray to the ghost of the good old farmer to help them in time of fear or trouble.
I asked a Japanese philosopher and friend to explain to me how the peasants could rationally imagine the spirit of Hamaguchi in one place while his living body was in another. Also I inquired whether it was only one of his souls which they had worshiped during his life, and whether they imagined that particular soul to have detached itself from the rest to receive homage.
"The peasants," my friend answered, think of the mind or spirit of a person as something which, even during life, can be in many places at the same instant. . . . Such an idea is, of course, quite different from Western ideas about the soul."
"Any more rational?" I mischievously asked.
"Well," he responded, with a Buddhist smile, "if we accept the doctrine of the unity of all mind, the idea of the Japanese peasant would appear to contain at least some adumbration of truth. I could not say so much for your Western notions about the soul."
•••••
[1. Shintô parish temple.]
By Lafcadio Hearne from his Gleanings in Buddha Fields
http://www.sacred-texts.com/bud/gbf/gbf02.htm
Contributed by Margaret Read MacDonald
http://www.margaretreadmacdonald.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=who.contact_me
NOTE from MRM: Pearl Buck's The Big Wave is also an interesting story, but longer and a bit curious. There are also picture books, but maybe not in every library. Sarah Cone Bryant, The Burning Rice Fields. Illus. by Mamoru Funai (Holt, Rinehart, Winston, 1963) is my favorite. The Wave by Margaret Hodges, illus. Blair Lent (Houghton Mifflin, 1964) won awards and might still be in print.
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3) BIBLE
The original tsunami stories come from the Old Testament. Crossing the Red Sea was surely a tsunami as the African rift rifted. Also, Noah's Ark.
(Updated 2/18/05)
