Happy New Year -- Year of the Dragon!

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Fred Lobb

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Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to all of my readers and their family members!

Fred Lobb & family

The Bride of Sir Gentleman Snake -- Part Three (Hmong)

On and on the babies roared, crying even more than before, as if for some dire reason.

Ah Yang carried the babies down closer to the river.

"I'll let them look at the fish," she told Ah Yi. "Maybe they'll become distracted and stop crying."

"All right, " said Ah Yi, staying behind where she was, by the rocks.

"Oh, Ah Yi!" cried Ah Yang suddenly. "You've got to come over and see!"

"See what, Older Sister?"

"These beautiful multicolored fish! Hurry and come and see them before they swim away! Hurry!"

Poor unsuspecting Ah Yi! She got up, left the rocks and came down to the riverbank.

"Where? What fish?" asked Ah Yi.

"Over there! Over there!" Ah Yang was practically jumping up and down, pointing. "Come closer!"

Ah Yi stood next to Ah Yang and looked in the direction of Ah Yang's finger.

Dong!


Ah Yang pushed her sister Ah Yi down into the rapids of the river. Ah Yi flailed about in the water and cried for her snake husband but to no avail. Her cries became weaker and weaker until her head and arms sank beneath the water.

"Little Sister's become fish food!" said Ah Yang, cooing to Ah Yi's two children. "Little Sister's become fish food!"

She went back up to the rocks with the two children and waited for the snake husband to return.

Well, she was now dressed up in Ah Yi's clothes, she carried Ah Yi's two small children, and, of course, she even looked like her twin, Ah Yi! What could go wrong?

By and by, Sir Gentleman Snake returned from his trip into the forest, empty handed. Ah Yang immediately put on an act, pretending she was angry.

"Where the devil have you been?" she asked. "How could you leave your wife and children out here while chasing after birds? The nerve you have!"

Huh, thought Sir Gentleman Snake. That's not like Ah Yi; that's not like the woman I married! 

He stared at Ah Yang.

"Who are you in my wife's clothes, holding my children?" he asked.

"What?!" Ah Yang screeched. "Children, do you hear that father of yours? Did you hear what he just said? Listen to yourself! You must be having vision problems! First of all, you can't even catch a measly crow--some hunter you are! Ha! And now, you are suggesting I'm an impostor? Perhaps your eyesight is failing."

"Well, I . . ."

"Take a close look at me, O mighty eagle-eyed hunter! Am I not wearing your wife's clothes? What's out of place, Husband? the tunic? the skirt? the leggings? Am I also not carrying the two children your wife bore? Or, are you ready to deny them as well?"

She then began to weep. Sir Gentleman Snake did not wish to see his wife cry, if she was really his wife.

"Please stop crying! Let's go on home!"

And so they headed home, and on their way back, the snake husband was not entirely convinced the woman walking next to him, carrying his two sons, was indeed his wife. He held his tongue, though.

They finally reached home, with Ah Yang now successfully taking Ah Yi's place as the wife of Sir Gentleman Snake. A number of years later, Ah Yang bore him a child. She now lived very well with this young and handsome husband, Sir Gentleman Snake, and was as happy as a maggot in pork fat--no cares, no worries, just endless bliss.

She also continued to assume that Ah Yi was dead.

Ah Yang, however, was wrong: Ah Yi was very much alive.

Ah Yang had pushed Ah Yi into the river, and Ah Yang had seen her sink below the water. The daughter of the Dragon King saw what had befallen Ah Yi and rescued her. The Dragon Princess escorted Ah Yi to the underwater palace, and there Ah Yi was given a place to live. There, she was offered a position as a maid of honor and stayed for several years.

Speaking to the Dragon Princess, Ah Yi said, "My Princess, I deeply thank you for saving me and giving me a home for all this time, but I really must leave now and find my children and husband!"

"Very well," replied the Princess. "I understand. I'll see you back to the surface."

The Dragon Princess accompanied Ah Yi to the surface of the river and made sure she landed on the bank safely before returning to her watery realm.

Ah Yi now found herself lost in the forest. She didn't know the direction to the house of Sir Gentleman Snake. Would she be able to find it? Even if she did, would her husband still love her? And her children! She now felt the greatest pains of despair--to have survived in the watery kingdom only to die alone in the forest while searching for her husband and children!

It was precisely at this moment that Ah Yi turned into a little crow and flew up into the sky.

Flying and searching, flying and searching, she finally located her husband's home early one morning and descended to circle it.

Inside the house, Sir Gentleman Snake had just gotten up and was washing his face when he heard the pretty chirping of a small bird, a crow, outside his window. He listened carefully. Was the bird telling him something, giving him a message? The bird seemed to be singing:

"Listen up! Listen up!
Your children's noses are running!
Their little noses need to be wiped!
Listen, up! Listen up!"


He went to check on the children.

Ah Yang had also now gotten up and was washing her face when she too heard the crow sing. The little bird now sang the following:

"Listen up! Listen  up!
Ah Yang's got a dirty heart!
Whether she ever washes or not,
She'll always be dirty through and through!
Listen up! Listen up!"


Livid like someone jumping on burning coals, Ah Yang stormed out of the house, picked up a good-sized rock and threw it at the bird, knocking it off the branch and killing it.

Sir Gentleman Snake came out and saw the dead crow lying on the ground.

Poor cute little creature, he thought, fated with just a short, violent life . . . Oh, well . . . 


He buried the little crow outside the house.

A few days later, from out of the little bird's grave grew a brilliantly verdant and sturdy tree. Sir Gentleman Snake loved this tree. He would go under its ample branches to rest and to cool off in the heat of the day and to escape from the annoying mosquitoes that seemed to be everywhere except under the branches of this tree.

 However, each time Ah Yang  tried resting by this tree, she felt as if she were in an inferno and would begin to sweat buckets. Not only that but she would be attacked a by virtual armada of mosquitoes. All this happened more than once. After sweating and being stung once too often, Ah Yang, muttering words that our parents would not much appreciate if they were written down here, stormed into the house for a hatchet. She then chopped the tree down.

Her husband must not have been too happy, but what can one do once a tree is chopped down? He used some of the wood to make a club for beating laundry. The club worked very well for the snake husband and children's clothes, but not so well for Ah Yang's. As a matter of fact, her clothes became even dirtier after using the club.

She snarled, took the club, burnt it to ashes and scattered the ashes in the field. She then went stomping back into the house.

The next day Sir Gentleman Snake was out in the field exactly at the spot were the ashes had been scattered and what did he find? A mud-snail shell! He thought this find was very interesting and beautiful, so he took the shell home and placed it in a tub of water.

Then, on a day when Sir Gentleman Snake, Ah Yang, and the children had gone up the mountain to chop wood, the mud snail stirred. From out of the shell came not the mud snail but, instead, Ah Yi! While the snake husband and Ah Yang were away, Ah Yi tidied up the house, neatly folded her husband's clothes, and washed the everyone's clothes.

The work done, Ah Yi returned to the snail shell just before Ah Yang and the snake husband returned home.

This situation went on for a while without rousing too much suspicion in Sir Gentleman Snake. After a period of time, though, he became suspicious.

I don't see my wife doing anything around the house, he mused, yet the house is always neat and clean! I've never seen her do much laundry, yet all of our clothes are washed and neatly folded. 


Then it dawned on him: all these mysterious happenings--the singing, speaking crow; the mysterious tree that seemed to sprout from the crow's grave overnight; the laundry club that could somehow make clean clothes dirtier than before; and the appearance of the mud-snail shell in the field--all of them somehow seemed in their own ways to cast doubts on his wife.

Doubts began to smolder in Sir Gentleman Snake's heart as well but he said nothing.

One day he, Ah Yang and the children were out in the field when he turned to her and told her he had to return to the house.

"Why?" she asked. "We just got here."

"I want to bring some more fertilizer, a couple of sacks more. Wait for me here and watch over the children. I'll be right back."

Actually, Sir Gentleman Snake had made up the need to get the fertilizer. He wanted to see who or what it was that was cleaning his house and doing the laundry. Very stealthily like a jungle cat, he climbed up the house and then lodged himself in the eaves. From there he could see inside the house.

He waited and watched for any movement within the house . . .

Before long, his waiting paid off. He saw a young woman emanate out from the mud-snail shell in the tub. She stood up and stretched. Then she went about sweeping and washing.

Ah Yi! thought Sir Gentleman Snake.

He jumped down from his perch below the eaves and pushed open the door. He ran in and embraced his wife, his true wife, the real Ah Yi. A lot had happened; a lot had changed but not enough changes to matter.
They continued to embrace.

Outside, the bright sunny noon day sky gave way to menacing black clouds. A strong wind whipped through the trees, and soon hail came down.

Ah Yang and the children were still out in the field. As soon as the wind started blowing and the hail started coming down, Ah Yang put down her hoe and fled the area, leaving the children behind.

Off she ran, with a black cloud in pursuit, lobbing hailstones at her head. When she could run no more, the rain became a torrent of water, a river just for her, washing her far, far away, to some place where her corpse became a meal for shrimp.

The wind and the rain then stopped as suddenly as they had appeared. Sir Gentleman Snake and Ah Yi rushed out to the field and picked the crying children up and carried them back home.

From then on, they all lived very happily and lovingly as a family!

Notes

from Miaozu minjian gushi; Li Yingqiu, ed. pp. 129-134.


This story is similar to Han Chinese versions from Southwest China and Taiwan: a sister is murdered by a jealous older sister, who takes her place; the murdered sibling returns in a variety of incarnations (bird, plant, inanimate object, etc.); the murderess is humiliated by the actions of these (re)incarnated objects and animals; the murderess dies a gruesome death. However, the Hmong story differs in that the snake husband never appears to be anything but a true gentleman, unlike in the Han version, where he threatens, at least in the opening, his own future father-in-law.  In this story, the sisters' father is given more of a role. Crows/ravens also play a prominent role in the story. Often harbingers of evil in folklore, crows/ravens here also serve positive functions. The Han version also doesn't provide a spouse for the jealous sibling; in the Hmong version, she marries a monkey, which turns out to be a terrible bargain compared to the fortunate younger sister's snake husband. Also of interest is the hailstorm that foreshadows Ah Yang's doom.


This story is classified as AT 33D, "The Snake Husband."


Motifs: D1812.5.1.15, "Hailstorm as a bad omen"; cE613, "Reincarnation as bird"; E631.6, "Reincarnation in tree growing from grave"; cF420.5.1, "Kind water spirit"; K2212, "Treacherous sister"; N741.1, "Concealed wife awaits favorable moment to come forward"; Q467, "Punishment by drowning"; Q552.19, "Miraculous drowning as punishment." 

The Bride of Sir Gentleman Snake -- Part Two (Hmong)

You can believe that Ah Yi was not too pleased with the prospect of having to lug her future husband in a basket into the house! Still, she did so.

That very day the two daughters were married. The next day, the daughters, now brides, said their goodbyes to their father as they headed off to the homes of their respective grooms.

On her way to the snake's home, with her husband, the snake, by her side, Ah Yi passed into the heart of the forest, where the sunlight was weakest and thinnest.

Where, O where, is he taking me? she wondered. How am I ever going to be able to survive out here in this place?

At about this time, the snake suddenly spoke to her and said, "You go on ahead. I've something to do. I'll catch up to you."

"'Go on ahead'? 'Go on ahead' where? I have no clue where we are! Let me wait here by the path for you."

"Very well."

The snake then left the path and entered into the thick forest. Moments later, a very handsome young man emerged, startling Ah Yi.

"Come," he said. "Let's continue."

"I don't know you! Who are you?"

The youth laughed and replied, "Ah Yi, I'm your husband, the snake!"

Ah Yi just stared at him.

"All right," he continued. "I can see you don't believe me. Just a moment . . ."

He dug into his bag slung over his shoulder and brought out a very long snakeskin.

"See? Now do you believe me? I just shed this skin."

Ah Yi was speechless. What could she say? She didn't need or want to say anything, for she was absolutely, deliriously happy! So arm-in-arm, she and her handsome husband made it to his house.

A year flew by, and the bride of Sir Gentleman Snake had now become a proud, loving mother!

What of Ah Yang and her monkey husband?

The past year had not been so kind to her. She and her husband, not having a true home of their own, had to roam from place to place for shelter. If this weren't bad enough, both had resorted to thievery. On the third of February, they stole stalks of wheat; on the sixth of June, they dragged away others' millet when no one was looking; then, on the ninth of September, they made off with some farmer's ears of rice. By the twelfth of November, they had found themselves a cave in the highlands and, there, they began to eat their ill-gotten victuals.

And that's how they lived.

Two years had now passed.

One day at the marketplace, Ah Yang overheard some woman talking about Ah Yi and her husband, Sir Gentleman Snake, and how wonderful, doting, considerate and handsome a husband he actually was. Not only that but her now two children were both healthy and beautiful. The four of them were at currently visiting Ah Yi's father . . .

Ah Yang heard all this good and well. She then made a decision: she would abandon that useless monkey of a husband and return to her father's home. There she could see for herself this gorgeous husband of Ah Yi's who could change himself from snake to man, who provided so well for his wife and who was the father of two handsome boys.

And so, instead of heading back to the monkey's cave to live that hardscrabble, miserable life, she returned to her childhood home.

Yes, it was all true, Ah Yang discovered upon reaching her father's home. The snake was no longer a snake but a truly beautiful specimen of man and a loving husband and wonderful father to boot.

How lucky that Ah Yi is! I should've had this man for a husband, Ah Yang thought. All this is so unfair. After all, I'm the older sister.

Then and there Ah Yang's mind began to work feverishly some evil plan . . .

"Welcome home, my older daughter!" Ah Yang's father had said.

"Thank you, Father," Ah Yang replied. "It's good to be home. I've missed you . . . and Ah Yi."

Hmm, thought the father. Something's wrong here. Don't know what it is, but something's definitely wrong. I've got to help Ah Yi and help her watch out for whatever may come.

Ten days later, Ah Yi, her husband and children were prepared to return to their own home. Very early that morning, the father, holding two empty bamboo baskets, approached his two daughters.

"Girls, my cucumber crop this year was really bountiful," he said. "I'm going to need your help."

He handed a basket to Ah Yi. To Ah Yang, he then held out a basket which he knew to have a hole, saying, "Now you two go out to the garden and pick the cucumbers until your baskets are full. Let's see who has the fuller basket!"

The two went out in the early morning light to pick cucumbers. Each worked quickly and energetically to fill her basket; however, no matter how hard Ah Yang worked and sweated, she just couldn't fill her basket to the brim.

Ah Yi returned to the house while Ah Yang still labored to fill her basket. The father took her basket and handed her sticky-rice cakes for her and her husband's breakfast.

"Hurry up and eat!" he said. "No need to wait for Ah Yang. You've got a long road ahead of you and need to leave soon, so eat! Eat!"

Ah Yi thought this was odd, but she and Sir Gentleman Snake did as they were told. They ate the sticky-rice cakes, picked up their children, said goodbye to Ah Yi's father and headed back on the road to their home.

Ah Yi and her family were long gone by the time Ah Yang and her basket finally stumbled into the house.

What had taken her so long? While outside, she heard the crows warbling:

"Gua, gua,

Line it with small twigs!

Gua, gua!"

Ah Yang looked at her basket. She poured the cucumbers onto the ground, picked up small twigs and leaves, and lined the bottom of the basket with them, covering up the hole. She then picked up the cucumbers on the ground and walked back to the garden, where she was able to pick even more. Soon, her basket was overflowing with cucumbers.

Looking around the house, Ah Yang asked her father, "Where's Ah Yi?"

"Maybe in her room, combing her hair!"

Ah Yang ran to Ah Yi's room, took a peek, and came running back to her father.

"No, Father, she's not there."

"Well, maybe she went back out to the garden to pick more cucumbers!"

Ah Yang then headed out the door and back to the garden and immediately returned.

"No, Father, she's not there either!"

"Well, then, perhaps she and her husband and children stopped by Uncle's to say hello."

Ah Yang practically flew out the door and ran to her uncle's place. Soon after, she returned. She headed into the kitchen and saw the bamboo steamer on the table. She lifted the still-warm lid and saw it was empty inside. She put two and two together: her sister and family had already eaten and left.

Meanwhile, Ah Yi and family had followed the path from her father's village until they arrived at the edge of the river. There, they decided to take a rest.

While they sat by the river, a crow flew by and landed on a branch of a nearby juniper tree. Sir Gentleman Snake saw this and said to Ah Yi, "A nice meal for us is about to arrive. Wait right here while I fetch it!"

He grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows and approached the tree. The crow immediately flew off and landed onto the branch of a tree farther away. Again, Sir Gentleman Snake headed towards that tree with stealth. Yet again, the crow flew off, landing somewhere else, and, yet again, Sir Gentleman Snake headed off furtively in pursuit. This went on and on until Sir Gentleman Snake disappeared into the dark forest.

There, by the river, Ah Yi, her two boys strapped to her back, waited, without any sign of her husband's return.

Little did she know that she and her boys were not alone! On the same path that led to the river was Ah Yang. Hiding, she observed her sister from afar. Now that Ah Yi's husband was out of the picture, she got up and made her way to her sister and nephews.

"Ah Yi, my little Ah Yi!" cried Ah Yang. "I've caught up with you! You and your husband leaving like that without as much as a 'goodbye'!"

"Come and sit with us as we wait for my husband," said Ah Yi. "He's gone off to hunt for our next meal."

"Ah Yi, let me take your two boys from you so you can give your poor back a rest!"

"Oh, thank you!"

Ah Yi stood up and let Ah Yang hold the two boys, both of whom immediately began to cry.

"Poor babies!" said Ah Yang. "It must be this tunic I'm wearing that bothers them. Let's not make them cry. Take your tunic off and trade it for mine."

"Oh, all right . . ."

She did so and they traded tunics, wearing each other's; however, the two babies continued to cry even more than before.

"I've got it!" said Ah Yang. "It's this old skirt of mine. Surely that must be it. Let's hurry and trade skirts!"

"If you think so . . ."

"I do, so hurry up!"

Both took off their own skirts and wore each other's, but the babies continued to cry even more loudly without stopping.

"I know what it is now!" said Ah Yang. "It's my bare legs! They're not covered by leggings as yours are! Take your leggings off and let me wrap them around my legs! That should do the trick."

"Very well . . ."

Ah Yi unwrapped her leggings and gave them to Ah Yang, who wrapped them around her legs. She now had on Ah Yi's tunic, skirt and leggings, and still the upset babes roared without any indication of tiring themselves out.

Notes

from Miaozu minjian gushi, Li Yingqiu, comp.; pp. 123-128.

The dates listed in the story, at least the first two, seem to correspond with actual Hmong holidays and celebrations as observed in China on the Chinese lunar calendar. (See Zhongguo minzu jie'ri dachuan [Compendium of Holidays of the Peoples of China], Gao Zhanxiang, comp. Beijing: Zhishi Chubanshe, 1993; pp. 442-501.)

February 3rd: a holiday for the Hmong of Taijiang County, Guizhou Province, called simply in Chinese, "February 3rd." Villagers wear their finery;young men and women sing romantic songs to each other. Those of the opposite sex not yet acquainted with each other will sing the "Inquiring Song," which asks one's name and location of home village.

June 6th: Guizhou's Song Festival on June 6th apparently began to commemorate Hmong resistance to Qing exploitation and the execution of Fu Meilou, a heroic Hmong youth who sought to shoot symbolic arrows at the Qing emperor in Beijing. Usually set in a bucolic location, the festival includes much singing of romantic and nostalgic songs as well as singing competitions. Young men and women will sing romantic lyrics in response to each other. Also on this date is Racing Day, in which Hmong and members of other minorities race horses. Finally, there is Grain Day. On this day, offerings are made to the Great God of the Five Grains. Many will slaughter some chickens, prepare rice wine and invite friends over for a feast.


September 9th: No holidays or festivals are specifically listed for September 9th; however, two movable events appear on the lunar calendar during the first two weeks of the ninth month in Guizhou. One is the harvest festival called, among other names, "Rice Stalk Harrowing Day," a day in which friends exchange gifts of sticky rice cakes and chicken. Another occurring sometime in this period is "Bullfighting Day," a day which includes sheng (reed) flute performances, singing and dueling bulls.


November 12th: According to Dr. Kou Yang, the Hmong of Hunan and Guizhou provinces celebrate their new year in November, presumably after the major harvesting. (See page 4 of the following link: www.hmongstudies.org/KYangHSJ8.pdf). Is November 12th thus a fixed date for New Year's? Possibly not; perhaps this date in the story is simply evocative of this festive, joyous, family-centered time of the year, emphasizing the degradation and deprivation Ah Yang encounters while married to her monkey husband. 


I'd be very grateful if those readers who know more about the venerable Hmong culture than I do, especially Americans of Hmong descent, can correct me if I am inaccurate about any of the above dates and their significance to the Hmong people!  

The Bride of Sir Gentleman Snake -- Part One (Hmong)

Years and years ago, there was an old man, a widower, who lived with his two daughters. The older daughter was called Ah Yang and the younger one, Ah Yi.

Very early one day, the old man, a woodcutter by trade, went up to the mountains. He spied many fine fir and pine trees. He put down his lunchbox and got set to work. Time went quickly, as it does for us when we age. Soon it was already noon. The old man had only cut down four trees. He took his hulu gourd, sat down on a stump, and drank some water.

He looked at the four small trees he had felled and sighed.

"Four small trees," he said aloud to himself, "that's it! Just four puny trees . . . And I'm not getting any younger! Today four trees--how many this time next year or even in the next few months? I wish a strong young man could help me out. I'd marry off one of my daughters to him! Oh, well . . . "

He prepared a small camp fire and sat back when he heard a voice.

"Grandpa! What did you say just now?"

He looked up. A small magpie was fluttering its wings above him.

"Nothing, Magpie, nothing. I'm just tired . . ."

"No, Grandpa. You certainly said something, something interesting, an oath or vow."

"All right, you heard me. I offered to let a healthy strong young man who can help me in my work marry one of my daughters. What of it?"

"Ah, yes! I knew I had heard correctly! I shall be the one to help you!"

The weary old man was too tired to be annoyed so he softly chuckled.

"Oh, Magpie, you're tiny and have no arms or hands. How in the world could you chop down trees?"

"No, problem, I can do it! Fasten the ax to my tail."

"What . . . ?"

"Just do it!"

The old man sighed again, got up and tied the ax to the bird's tail.

Well, the magpie flew up to the trees and whirled around the tree trunks without chopping down a single tree! All it managed to do was to lose the ax somewhere on the ground and strip its own tail of all its feathers.

The old man looked at the magpie, flying lamely now with its bare behind, shook his head, and thought, That was mighty dumb! That old magpie surely made a great fool of itself and me too for my even bothering to listen!"

The embarrassed magpie flew off; the old man got up to look for his ax.

The next morning at dawn, the old man was once again up on the mountain.

He chopped and chopped, wiped his brow and moaned, "Aii, what will it take for me to find a strapping young man to take over for me and to wed one of my daughters!"

He heard some rustling in the bushes and then a voice ask, "Grandpa, what did you just say?"

He looked in the direction of the voice. Just beyond some bushes was a large rock. Upon it were a snake and a monkey.

"I said nothing," the old man replied.

"No, no, you distinctly said something," said the snake.

"We both heard you," said the monkey.

"All right, so you heard what I said. What of it?"

"We can help you!"

The old man first looked at the snake.

"A monkey has hands and feet which can grab pretty well," he said. "Even a magpie has two feet. How in the world could you possibly cut anything down, Snake?"

"Tie your ax to my tail and you shall see!" replied the snake.

"Very well," said the old man, tying his ax to the snake's tail. Then, turning to the monkey, he said, "I brought two axes today. I suppose you'd like to cut down a tree as well?"

"Yes, and you don't need to tie the ax to me!" said the monkey.

"All right, Snake and Monkey, hop to it . . ."

The two animals set off to cut trees!

The snake slithered by the base of each tree and with a swish of his tail, he cut down each tree, big, small and in between. Soon, a large part of the dense forest lay broadly open due to the snake's quick and skilled efforts.

"Unbelievable!" cried the old man. "Simply unbelievable!"

He turned to see what the monkey had done; the monkey had wielded the ax as long as, if not longer than, the snake and had not yet felled one tree, though not from lack of effort. He just about collapsed, drenched with sweat.

No results, thought the old man, but he certainly tried, poor fellow. No shame there. You have to respect one who tries hard.

The old man gave the two animals the boxed lunch that Ah Yi that morning had packed for him.

"Boys," said the old man, "eat up. You're both coming home with me."

The snake and the monkey followed the old man home.

Outside the front gate, the old man said, "Boys, wait here. I'll tell my two girls to come out and greet you."

He walked into his house and what did he find? His two daughters engaged in a quarrel! The hardworking Ah Yi was trying to get her lazy older sister Ah Yang to do some work around the house, such as cleaning and setting the bowls and chopsticks for dinner. Ah Yang, though, didn't feel like helping.

"Girls, girls!" said the old man. "Stop arguing! We have guests outside. Do you want them to laugh at us?" The girls immediately became silent and looked at their father. "Good. Now listen to me. I've brought two suitors home, one for each of you. They're waiting outside for you now. We shall have a wedding today, girls! Now go outside and graciously invite them into our home."

"Very good, Father. You know the custom. I'm the older sister. My wishes come first!"

Ah Yi was angry but held her tongue as Ah Yang went out the door ahead of her.

The two girls went outside to the front gate and saw no one there, just a snake and a monkey looking at them, a sight not unusual in the forest.

"Father!" shouted Ah Yang from outside. "There's nobody here! All we see are only a monkey and snake. Are you going to tell us that they are our suitors?"

"Yes!" cried the father through the window. "They are the pair."

Ah Yang and Ah Yi looked at each other and shrugged. Ah Yang figured the monkey resembled a man more than the snake did, so she chose the monkey to be her husband.

"You get the snake!" Ah Yang snickered to Ah Yi as she, Ah Yang, led the monkey by the hand into the house.

"Well, then," said Ah Yi to the snake, "how am I supposed to bring you into the house?"

"Very simple, kind Maiden," said the snake. "Get a bamboo basket--I'm sure you have one. Let me crawl in and then carry the basket inside!"

Notes

from Miaozu minjian gushi (Hmong folktales), Li Yingqiu, comp. Taipei: Mutong chubanshe, 1978; pp. 117-122.

This is the Hmong version of the Southeastern Chinese/Taiwanese folktale "The Bride of Lord Snake." This version is significantly different from the Taiwanese one in my Amazon Kindle book Taiwan Folktales. Already, in this first of three parts, we have a glimpse into an old Hmong custom: the bride leading the groom into the bride's home.

Taiwanese Folk Beliefs -- Series 2

1. If You Have to Be Bitten . . .

To the majority of us who are not marine biologists or zoologists, a random turtle and/or tortoise placed side-by-side with a Chinese soft-shelled fresh water turtle (Trionyx sinensis) may not seem terribly distinctive from each other. However, the ancestors of today's Taiwanese would have disagreed. The mouths of most turtles and tortoises in the wild were thought to be inlaid with gold. Thus, for one to be bitten by a species of turtle or tortoise other than the Trionyx sinensis would mean one would eventually become wealthy. However, the bite of the latter, the Chinese fresh water turtle, was to be avoided at all costs. It was thought that its beak would clamp down onto human flesh until either the peal of thunder of the sound of a pestle grinding inside a mortar could be heard. Only then would its jaws slacken and release whomever it had bitten.

2. The Sensitivity of Snakes

Snakes, of course, have no legs. Therefore, one must never speak of this fact; otherwise, any snake that overhears mention of this might become angry and seek out the speaker.

3. Sons of the Dragon

A dragon has nine sons.

The first son loves loud noises, so bells are adorned with the images of dragons.

The second son loves music, so musical instruments are adorned with images of dragons.

The third son loves to drink, so drinking vessels are adorned with images of dragons.

The fourth son loves mountain peaks, so the tops of tall buildings or other structures or places are adorned with images of dragons.

The fifth son loves weaponry, so weapons are adorned with images of dragons.

The sixth son loves literature, so images of dragons are found on movable type.

The seventh son loves litigation, so images of dragons are found in courtrooms.

The eighth son loves sitting, so chairs are decorated with the images of dragons.

The ninth son loves heavy objects, so the images of dragons may be found on plinths.

4. Tree Spirits

Camphor, banyan and maple trees, once they reach a very old age, become tree spirits and are liable to turn malevolent and harm people. Thus, many people erect small shrines beneath the branches of these trees and, there, make offerings to them.

5. Flower Spirits

Flowers also house spirits. One is not supposed to pluck flowers at night lest the spirit of the flower becomes angry.

6. Twitching Eyebrows

A twitching eyebrow is a bad omen. This is especially true for children, for a child's twitching eyebrow indicates a beating is coming.

7. Bridal Sedan Chair

In days past the rear of a bridal sedan chair was decorated with the images of the bagua (the symbols from the Yijing, or Book of Changes), the taiji (i.e., the well-known yin yang symbol, like the ones found on the respective flags of the Republic of Korea and Mongolia), and a rice sieve. Why? These symbols together represent all the innumerable things in the universe and, thus, many children and descendants.

8. More Lucky & Unlucky Dream Symbols

Lucky dream symbols:

to hear the sounds of bells and drums . . . good fortune

to obtain shoes . . . great luck

to come into contact with blue-green clothing . . . to be assisted by a god(dess)

to lie down upon rice grains . . . great luck

to lie down upon a rock . . . great luck

to be disparaged by someone . . . great luck

to handle a rock . . . to give birth to a future member of the nobility

Unlucky dream symbols:

to obtain grains but then only to lose them . . . a sign of impending illness

to be beaten by a ghost . . . bad luck

to be beaten by one's wife or mistress . . . bad luck

to see two women engaged in a brawl . . . a sign of impending illness

to have the bowstrings break . . . bad luck

9. More Omens

to have an itchy ear . . . someone is thinking of you and misses you

to have an itchy foot . . . the earth god is giving you a warning

to stumble or fall outside while engaged in some enterprise . . . a sign of impending harm

to have twitching eyelids . . . someone is disparaging you (see 6. Twitching Eyebrows above)

to have a ringing in the ears or hot ears . . . a sign of either impending good or bad luck

to see a "tailless" or otherwise incomplete rainbow . . . a typhoon is imminent

to witness a falling star come to earth . . . a huge disaster is imminent

to have one's bamboo hat blown off by the wind is very unlucky . . . for the hat to be blown into the ocean or down a mountain could indicate the end of one's days is approaching.

10. Taboos

Don't pull out any white hairs . . . to do so will make white hairs proliferate.

Don't pull out any hair on the feet . . . to do so will lead to one's being frightened by ghosts.

Don't wear washed clothes which have not been first dried and then folded . . . to do so may lead one to become a "bamboo clothing pole ghost" (i.e., one who has a skeletal frame and all that that entails).

Don't let a child walk underneath a stretched out blanket or a woman's skirt . . . otherwise, the child might not grow taller than the child's current height; any adult, especially a man, involved in violating this taboo can expect bad luck as well.

Don't dry clothes outside at night . . . otherwise, any future child born might be of short stature or the birth might turn out to be stillborn.

Don't mend clothes while wearing them . . . otherwise, the wearer might be accused of being a thief.

Don't eat beef . . . much illness will follow.

Don't stick chopsticks vertically into a bowl of rice . . . it is very unlucky, for it mimics what is done for the dead.

Don't speak of "turning over" the fish while eating fish with any guest who is a sailor or fisherman . . . to do so could foreshadow his boat's capsizing at sea.

Don't look in the mirror while eating . . . to do so will lead to one's becoming an inarticulate speaker.

Don't let a little girl change seats while eating . . . otherwise, after she marries one day, she may end up "changing partners."

from

Taiwan minjian gushi, Cang Dewu; Taiwan minsu, Wu Yingtao. (See 9/12/11 for full citation.)

Notes

These are bits and pieces of long outmoded and discarded folklore and are not meant to represent the belief systems of most people alive today.

For a legend about spirits housed in trees, see story #4 at 3/26/09.

Sweet . . . Fragrant . . . Gas?! (Taiwan)

There were once two brothers who lived somewhere off in the countryside. The older brother was named Zheng Shuihuo, and the younger brother, Zheng Jinmu.

While they were born of both the same mother and father, the two couldn't have been more different. Shuihuo was ruthless, heartless, capable of great wrongdoing. He was his town's local bully, fighting just for the fun and meanness of it all and always taking advantage of the weakness of others. The result--everybody in the countryside feared him, avoided him, and cursed him behind his back. Jinmu, on the other hand, was quiet, deferential, modest, and sincere. He was welcomed and respected by all.

And despite more than once being beaten and having his lip split by his Shuihuo, Jinmu still treated his brother with respect. Shuihuo, was after all, his older brother.

Then came the day to split up the family property after the remaining parent had passed away. Unfortunately, Shuihuo had strong-armed the local mediator to award him, Shuihuo, the lion's share: the house, the best farm fields, and so on. The three--Shuihuo, Jinmu, and the mediator--sat down in the house to discuss the distribution.

"The ancients said," the mediator spoke, "'As a tree grows branches, so the branches spread.' Thus, gentlemen, it's entirely proper for you to split from each other and start your own families. Life will thus be easier, more convenient for you both.

"You're still a young fellow, Jinmu," continued the mediator. "What do you, at your age, need such a huge spread for? Therefore, your brother has generously agreed to give you the plot of land along the foothills as well as an ox."

Jinmu nodded and thanked his brother and the mediator. Yes, the whole thing had been rigged from the start, and Jinmu knew this. However, he didn't quibble; that wasn't his nature. He agreed to the transaction.

The deal was done; the papers were signed; the mediator left.

"We're finished here," said Shuihuo to his brother no sooner than the mediator had exited the gate. "Don't even think about coming over here with your open palms, expecting a handout. The door is over there. Keep off my land."

Jinmu, who had never had any intention of asking his older brother for money, nodded and left for his portion of the land, the sandy stretch of field along the foothills that came with an old ox and a small hut that Jinmu would have to call "home."

Jinmu rose early the next morning and began plowing what was now his land. Working this basically useless plot of sand would be a challenge, but he decided to make the most of it.

Day after day he worked the land with no obvious result. One thing that did happen, however, was he grew attached to the old ox that came with the land and the hut. It tried its best to do the work expected of it, but Jinmu didn't push the poor creature too much. Instead, he let it rest under a tree much of the time.

The ox and I--we're in this together, he thought. It depends on me, and I depend on it as well. It can make or break my rice bowl.

He would lovingly stroke the ox's neck and throat, feeding it grass and other grains that it loved. He grew to love this old ox and sensed it loved him back as well.

One day, he left the ox tied to the tree while he went out for a bunch of grass stalks. The creature seemed to be all right when he left. When he returned, the ox was now lying on the ground, still, not breathing. From its mouth came a very bitter stench. It was clear the ox was dead.

Jinmu knelt beside his animal friend and partner and cried and cried.

Now what shall I do? he thought. I've lost my right arm and hand . . .

He dug a hole for the ox near the tree and buried it.

Three days later, he took a nap next to the ox's grave. He had a dream in which cold ripples of a wind bathed his face and eyes. In this dream he looked up to see the ox munching grass right before him and continually nodding its head, as if happy.

The ox then said, "Tomorrow you will notice a fruit growing upon my tree. This fruit, once ripe, can be picked and eaten. This fruit will earn you great fame and fortune . . ."

Jinmu woke up with a start. The ox was gone. He looked up at the tree--there wasn't a hint of a fruit growing on the tree.

That night, Jinmu tossed and turned on his cot, anxiously awaiting daylight and a chance to rush out to see if there was any fruit on the tree. As soon as the sun was over the horizon, he ran out to the tree, and, sure enough, there were strange fruits growing all over the tree. Not only that, but they appeared ripe. Jinmu picked one.

The ox said I could eat them and that they would bring me 'great fame and fortune,' he thought. All right, well here I go . . .

He ate one. It was delicious, sweet like honey. He ended up eating ten of them.

Hmm, he thought. They're filling. Now I don't need to prepare lunch.
As he walked back to his hut, a sudden deep pressure and dull pain gripped his bowels. He had the desperate urge to relieve himself. Holding his stomach, he half-waddled, half-quick stepped back to his outhouse.

Instead of relieving himself in the manner he thought he would, he relieved himself in a different manner: he emitted an extremely thunderous passage of wind. Instead of the usual foul odor that would accompany such an eruption came instead the most fragrant, most redolent scent imaginable, an aroma akin to the scent one might smell in the fanciest perfume and incense shops.

Huh! he thought.

Now he had no idea for what good purpose this fruit could be ultimately used, but, nonetheless, he was pleased that the tree was laden with these large, red fruits.

Meanwhile, over in town, the area's wealthiest man, Merchant Zhao, lay bedridden with an unidentifiable disease. He was the kind of stingy man of whom the ancients had said "would not pull out a single hair to save the world." A small army of physicians had failed to cure him of his illness, so all day long for many weeks he lay in his bed, moaning. At times, he would resemble a madman, suddenly screaming and pushing his hands forward to drive away horrible green-faced demons, visible only to him, with long claws and fangs. At other times, he would act like a small child and giggle at things only he could see or hear.

His wife, son and daughter were all at their wits' end about what to do.

Now one day a very raggedy old beggar, looking for a handout or some rice, approached the Zhao family mansion gate. The servant manning the gate waved his arms furiously.

"Old beggar! Get away from here!" shouted the guard. "The master of the house is ill and doesn't need to be bothered by the likes of you!"

The beggar, feelings ruffled, turned away from the gate and headed elsewhere. As he did, he turned his head back to the servant at the gate, laughed and sang a little song he had invented on the spot:

"Ha, ha, ha!
Merchant Zhao lying ill on his bed!
Needs to be saved by a fragrant fart.
Otherwise, he'll soon be dead!
Ha, ha, ha!"

The servant watched the mendicant leave. He thought about the song the man had sung. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed intriguing. Why had the man sung about "a fragrant fart," of all things? Was there even such a thing? Was this one of those off-handed suggestions that sounded so ridiculous, so preposterous that there had to be some merit to it? Could it be one of those things that was crazy but too crazy to overlook?

All these thoughts ran through the servant's head. He immediately left his post and ran through the narrow market streets of the town looking for the beggar, to ask him further what he meant. Maybe--just maybe--the beggar was on to something. Alas, the beggar was nowhere to be found, so the servant immediately ran back to the Zhao mansion and asked to speak with Merchant Zhao himself.

The servant stood before the stricken Zhao on his sickbed and told him what the old beggar had said about "a fragrant fart."

"Are you out of your mind?" shouted Zhao, raising his head from his pillow. "Bodily gas smells awful! It always has and always will! Get out of here with your 'fragrant fart'!"

Mrs. Zhao stepped in to comfort and to calm down her husband.

"Husband," she said, "hush and relax! Don't exert yourself over this. Please just listen. 'Fragrant fart'? Just because a mendicant said it is no reason to discount it. Did the ancients not say, 'Beneath the rags may lie a saint'? Here's what we'll do. We shall put up notices at all the crossroads, offering a great reward, one hundred thousand gold coins, and even the hand of our daughter, to whoever can provide the means of delivering such a . . . a fart! This may be your only option left. Don't pass it up!"

"One hundred thousand gold coins, Wife? Have you too lost your senses? That much money? No, no, no!"

Just then he witnessed one of the leering green demons pop up right in front of his face. He shrieked and waved his hands as those gathered around the bed just shook their heads in pity and dismay.

"Good! Just go and do it!" he cried. "Ten thousand gold coins, fine! Hurry and put the notices up!"

That day the notices went up at all the crossroads.

Soon everyone gathered in tea houses, inns and restaurants was talking about the same thing: Merchant Zhao's offer of one hundred thousand gold coins and his daughter's hand in marriage to whoever could supply a "fragrant fart," whatever that was. Much of the talk centered on the extraordinary amount of cash being offered; however, a very fair amount of the talk concerned the downright loveliness of Miss Zhao, even more beautiful than "Lady Chang O who ascended to the moon," as one wag put it.

All the men of the area longed for the chance to present themselves to Merchant Zhaoto claim the rewards; not one, though, had a clue as to what to do about providing "a fragrant fart."

Soon, the Zhaos' notice came to the attention of the one man who could indeed produce marvelous fragrant gas, Zheng Jinmu. He hurried over to the Zhao mansion; before doing so, however, he gobbled down ten of his special fruits.

By the time he reached the Zhao mansion, his quick steps had slowed down considerably; he wobbled and lurched towards the gate, his hands clutching his abdomen.

"I . . . read . . . your . . . notice . . . I . . . am . . . here . . . to . . . sell . . . my . . . fragrant . . . farts," he moaned to the servant at the gate.

He was hurriedly ushered into Merchant Zhao's bedroom before Mrs. Zhao, their chief servant, and, of course, on the bed, Merchant Zhao himself.

Had they not posted a reward of one hundred thousand gold coins and the offer to marry their daughter for a fragrant passage of wind?

Yes, they had. He was in the right place. Could the young gentleman now . . . er . . . deliver the goods?

Jinmu nodded his head. He turned to Merchant Zhao and painfully raised his two clenched hands in the traditional greeting. He then very gingerly turned around so that his back faced the ill man. He next pulled up his upper garment and bent over, thereupon letting loose the loudest, most window-rattling flatulent outburst in the history of the human race. It seemed to go on forever but must have lasted but a score of seconds or so.

The entire room was instantly bathed in the most wondrous scent, a scent more fragrant than a thousand field of jasmine blossoms or any other redolent flower, for that matter.

Then, it happened.

Merchant Zhao instantly sat up in bed, unaided. He smiled and stretched his arms and continued to breathe in the aroma.

"I . . . I feel wonderful!" he cried. "Yes, I truly feel wonderful!"

Not only that, he no longer saw the demons--in the day or night.

He had Jinmu sit beside him.

"You, young man, get the reward, the full reward!" he told Jinmu.

He made sure the young man received his money and also set the date of the wedding, three days later.

With a smile, Merchant Zhao watched the young man leave. He, Zhao, made a pledge to himself--he would no longer be a miserable skinflint. From that day forward, he successfully lived up to that pledge.

Once married, the first thing Jinmu did with the money was to build a grander tomb, a shrine, for the ox.

That Jinmu was now fabulously wealthy and married to the most beautiful young woman in the region had not escaped the attention of his older brother Shuihuo. He had heard about it while sitting drunk in a tavern, drinking up the proceeds from the sale of his house and failed farm.

Jinmu discovered what had happened to his older brother and felt compassion for him, giving him thirty thousand gold coins and telling him to turn a new leaf.

With tears flowing, Shuihuo bowed before his younger brother and accepted the money; more importantly he accepted his younger brother's advice as well. He became a new man, a better man, the kind of man his younger brother was, with or without riches.


Notes

from Taiwan minjian gushi jingxuan, Huang Deshi, ed. Taipei: Qingwen Publishing, 1981; pp. 12-24.

In another version of this story, the source of which I can't remember, the older brother suffers a very serious comeuppance at the conclusion. Discovering his younger brother's new wealth and marriage to the lovely Miss Zhao, he asks him how he did it. "Very simple," responds Jinmu. "I ate lots and lots of meat--mountains of it, and then advertised my 'sweet gas' for sale. Try it!" Arrogant and foolish Shuiho then begins consuming incredible amounts of meat, to the point where he does the unthinkable: he even butchers his own ox or water buffalo and eats it as well. He advertises his "wares," finds a wealthy buyer, passes wind in front of the face of this powerful individual and then is severely beaten within an inch of his life.

The brothers' names are the basic Chinese elements: Shuihuo (water & fire) and Jinmu (gold & wood), stressing their generic identity.

The Chinese title is "Mai Xiangpi," or "Selling Fragrant Broken Wind." This story or versions of it are apparently known throughout China. In A Type Index of Chinese Folktales (Folklore Fellows Communication 223; Helsinki, 1978, pp. 89-90), Ting Nai-tung labels this as 503m, "Selling Sweet Gas." For a similar Cantonese tale, "The Bamboo Grove of the Loyal Dog," see 6/26/07. Motifs: B580, "Animal helps human to wealth"; Q51, "Kindness to animal rewarded."