There once were two sisters who lived all on their own. They had to be on their own, for their parents had passed away, and there was no one else to look out for them.
The older sister, Ya'ge, had not much going for her. True, she was not a great beauty who had to apply lots of makeup to keep up appearance, but that was not the problem. No, the real issue was her true ugliness--her narcissism, laziness and great temper--lay well beneath the skin and ran all the way to the bone.
The younger sister, Wuyang, was a complete contrast to her sister. She was pleasant to behold and as pretty inside. Unlike her older sister, she was a cheerful hard worker.
One day the two of them were at home. Wuyang was busy weaving fabric while Ya'ge was busy, busy in love with her image in a polished jade mirror.
"Wuyang," asked Ya'ge, turning away from the mirror, "am I not pretty? Come and tell me!"
"Oh, Ya'ge, please," said Wuyang. "Must you spend all day looking into the mirror? All the time you've spent so far could have gone toward planting crops or doing something useful! I'd appreciate some help! I can't do everything by myself."
Ya'ge had apparently not heard a thing.
"Ya'ge! You should do something to help out in case there's an emergency, instead of sitting around all day looking into the mirror. If we end up starving, will it matter then how pretty you are?"
"Huh! What kind of mean, nasty, big-mouthed sister are you? I'll spend time looking in the mirror all I like, thank you."
"Ya'ge, come on! If we keep ourselves busy doing something good, something useful, we'll be happier, healthier, won't we? We also won't starve if there's a--"
"Wuyang, didn't I just suggest to you to mind your own business?"
Wuyang was now sorry she had made Ya'ge cross.
"Big Sister," she said, "don't be mad. Can't we just be happy and enjoy each other's company?"
"I think perhaps not. No, I've been thinking about us for a while now. I have decided I don't want to be with a rude big mouth like you anymore. We need to split up."
"Ya'ge, don't joke that way. You can't be serious. Please forgive me for opening my big mouth when I shouldn't have. Go ahead and scold me. I deserve it."
"Scold you? Scold you? How dare I? Why, you're Little Miss Perfect--beautiful, skilled, well-mannered, not an ugly clod like me!"
"Ya'ge, I've never even said anything like that--"
Ya'ge shot Wuyang a withering stare. Wuyang had weathered Ya'ge's moodiness all her life, but this time she sensed Ya'ge was serious about their splitting up. She began to cry and plead with her older sister.
"Big Sister, please forgive me. We've been together since Father and Mother left. We've been through good times and bad times! Don't let something stupid I said--"
"Stop! Say no more! That's it! I've made up my mind, so this is it for us!"
And so it was.
Stubborn Ya'ge had, as they say, "a heart and guts made of iron." So what could these two young women who shared a single-room hut do to split up? They simply went their own ways, each taking care of herself and not acknowledging the presence of the other. In truth, only one of the pair really did anything to take care of herself, while the other spent most of her time doing what she loved to do best, studying herself in the mirror. Other than that, she scrounged around to feed herself.
One day, when Ya'ge was by herself, scrutinizing herself from every angle in the mirror, she heard a voice say, "You're ugly!"
"What? Who said that?" She looked around.
"Yes, you're ugly!" It was the mirror speaking to her. "Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly! Ugly as disease! Ugly as a stench! Ugly as a nightmare!"
Ya'ge was dumbstruck. Was this all a dream? She stared at the mirror.
"Ahh, stop it!" cried the mirror. "Stop looking at me! It hurts! You're as ugly as a cockroach! You're hideous, but your sister is pretty, pretty, pretty!"
"You stupid bewitched mirror!" said Ya'ge, grabbing the mirror off the wall, preparing to smash it upon the floor. "Be gone--"
"Ya'ge, stop! What are you doing?" Wuyang had just returned from the vegetable patch. "The mirror belonged to our parents! You can't break it!"
"Oh, can't I? Shut up and mind your own business!" She raised the mirror over her head.
"Ugly, ugly, ugly!" said the mirror. "Ugly heart! Ugly eyes! Ugly temper! Did I already say, 'Ugly heart'? Wuyang is pretty, pretty, pretty! Pretty heart! Pretty eyes! Pretty--"
Ya'ge slammed the mirror onto the floor, shattering it into eight large pieces and silencing the voice.
"Ya'ge . . . Big Sister . . . how could you?"
Wuyang's tears flowed onto the floor as she knelt down to pick up the eight chunks. She then carried the pieces away and placed them under her pillow She remembered the day her father had brought this round, smooth jade stone home, having found it while hunting on a mountain ridge, seeing it lying upon a larger white jade rock. Wuyang remembered how she herself had further polished it to such a sheen that it could be used as a good usable mirror. How sad she was to see it had been broken into pieces. Every day she would come home from her chores and look at the remnants of the mirror. Then the tears would once again flow . . .
Many days and nights passed.
One evening, while Ya'ge was sleeping and snoring away, Wuyang sat on her bed, unable to sleep, upset about the loss of her parents, her poor relations with her sister, and the destruction of the only belonging left from her parents, the jade mirror. She heard a strange sound and saw a brilliant white light bleeding out from beneath her pillow.
She lifted the pillow--the broken pieces of jade had somehow reformed themselves into a mirror, an intact, unbroken mirror. From the mirror now came rays of rainbow lights, filling the small hut, dancing on the walls, gradually forming themselves into a tight circle around Wuyang, making the already lovely young woman look radiant and beautiful.
With her trembling hands, Wuyang took the mirror and held it close to her bosom.
"Wuyang, don't be sad," said the mirror. "Continue to work hard. You'll have a meaningful, happy life. Good people like those who work hard, and those who work hard are rewarded in more ways than one. I like you and shall remain with you always. Would you like me to stay?"
"Oh, Mirror, yes, yes! I like you too, so please stay with me forever!"
That night, Wuyang enjoyed the deepest, sweetest sleep she had ever experienced.
Ya'ge, meanwhile, slept on.
From that day on, even though Wuyang always left the mirror under her pillow, the mirror would somehow show up wherever she was doing her chores--whether up in the mountains collecting firewood, planting crops in the patch, drawing water from the stream. Whenever Wuyang encountered danger, the mirror would be there right by her side, warding off any threat to Wuyang, protecting her every minute of the day and night. Once, for instance, the mirror suddenly appeared as she was gathering firewood. "Wuyang, drop what you have and leave now! A hungry black bear is just around the bend! Come this way!" On more than one occasion, the mirror thus saved Wuyang's life.
In the evening Wuyang could do her weaving with light supplied from the mirror. Gone was the need for candles or lanterns, for the mirror could illuminate the hut as brightly as the afternoon sun rays coming in through the window.
Ya'ge remained unaware of all this--sleeping day and night without a care in the world. The two sisters usually didn't meet, for Wuyang was an early riser and would return later at night. Anyway, Ya'ge would always be sound asleep. The mirror continued to dislike Ya'ge and would always hide itself from her, never allowing Ya'ge to know of its presence or magical powers. Wuyang chose to remain mum about it.
With the mirror's help and protection, Wuyang prospered. She was able to plant and harvest crops, gather and sell more firewood, and weave more fabric to sell. She built up a growing income. She became known far and wide as a good catch, and many eligible young men, prodded by their own parents and matchmakers, lined up to ask her for her hand in marriage.
"Mirror, whom do I choose?" she asked. "There are so many nice young men, and I'm swamped with offers. Please help me."
"Wuyang, choose Minglai," said the mirror. "He works hard, hunts, fishes, tends to his father's fields without complaint. He's honest and has a good heart. He shall love you and be considerate to you. He shall bring you great fortune. Let the choice be Minglai!"
So Wuyang indeed chose Minglai and they wed. Everyone in the nearby village helped the newlywed couple by constructing a home for them. In time, Wuyang gave birth to her first child. Wuyang now had a family again.
Everything was no so rosy for Ya'ge, however. You might say she slept her life away. When the time came that she wanted to get married too, there was, unfortunately, no one for her. She continued to sleep and sleep. If she worked half a day, she would then sleep for two full days. She also ate badly and neglected her health. Local people shunned her, regarding her as lazy, unproductive. Her life ended early, and she died all alone in her hut.
The Atayal people place a high value on those who work hard to better themselves and those around them. Thus, this story has been told from one generation to another and will continue to be told.
from
Cai Tiemin, ed. 高山族民间故事选. [Selection of folktales from the Taiwanese indigenous peoples]. Shanghai: Shanghai Wenyi Chubanshe, 1987; pp. 73-77.
This story shall be the first in a series of stories from the indigenous tribes of Taiwan.
The Austronesian Atayal live in north-central and eastern Taiwan.
What can a mirror do in folk literature? It may reflect the soul. It can tell the truth that dares not be spoken. It can also reveal the ugliness of narcissistic preoccupation with the self when no other person can. Here, the mirror to which Ya'ge retreats to delude herself turns on her, now emitting a harsh parental voice seemingly from beyond the grave, rather cruelly censuring her when her slothfulness and love for herself have become unbearable. Parental authority dies hard if it indeed can die at all, and here it is the inner chatter of the strict, relentless introjected parental voice, or superego itself, that cannot be stilled.
This story, like "Cinderella," deals with sibling rivalry, besides the mirror-gazing dangers of narcissism found in "Snow White." There are no animal helpers or fairy godmothers in this story; instead, there is the talking jade mirror to stand in for the parent or parents missing in Wuyang's life. The parents may be gone, but the presumed competition for their favor, perhaps for the father's love, lives on, though it would appear that the lazy Ya'ge has long given up her part in the struggle. Bruno Bettelheim, writing about "Cinderella" in The Uses of Enchantment, suggests that such rivalry stems not so much from the often customary dislike two siblings may have for each other but rather from the knowledge of one child that a parent favors the more industrious, more pleasing child (238). The sibling enmity is compounded by the fact that the parent is no longer physically around but the memory of his/her favoritism and the psychically generated voice that embodies it remain, in this case, lodged in a rock, a symbol of that which is tied to the earth.
Motifs: D1163, "Magic mirror"; D1311.2, "Mirror answers questions"; Q5, "Laziness punished; industry rewarded."
Monday, July 3, 2017
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
Hotel Ghosts: Protocols (Taiwan)
First, a story . . .
This story was related to me by a student's mother a number of years ago. She insisted the details of the story really happened as she related them.
There is a hotel in a major city in Taiwan, and this hotel is reputed to be haunted. (I myself stayed there once, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred.)
This woman, her husband, and her then very small children had traveled back to Taiwan to see family members. After visiting all the relatives, the family of four took off on a brief private tour of the island. They arrived in the city where this particular hotel is located. Exhausted, they checked into the hotel, went up to their room, washed up, and went to bed.
Around midnight, the wife kept being woken up when her pillow was snatched from underneath her head. Assuming her husband was playing some kind of childish prank on her, she gave him a good jab in the ribs the third or fourth time the pillow was yanked away. He woke up and asked her why she had done that. She told him that she was annoyed he had picked that time to play a joke on her with the pillow. He denied he had been doing that. His protests convinced her he had been indeed sleeping. They both got dressed and then woke and dressed the children. They went downstairs to the front desk.
"What's going on in that room you gave us?" she told the clerk. "My pillow keeps getting pulled away from under my head!"
The clerk looked around and then told her quietly, "Sorry. In that room . . . a . . . dancehall girl committed suicide . . . "
The family was given a refund, and they checked out and found a different hotel.
Someone I know from Taiwan who wishes to remain unidentified told me that "there are some rituals to employ before entering a hotel room so as not to disturb or disrespect the ghost or ghosts that might still be inside."
The following are the reported protocols:
1. First, before entering the room for the first time, one needs to knock to let the ghost know a visitor
is about to enter. It is said some hotel guests will go as far as to announce verbally in a polite tone
that they are preparing to enter as they knock on the door.
2. Once inside, one is to turn on all the lights--ceiling and bathroom lights as well as bedside lamps--
to allow the yin （陰 or 阴； i.e., the dark, passive, negative, occult, hidden) to become the yang
(陽 or 阳; i.e., the bright, active, positive, open, unhidden).
3. One is advised not to hang up clothes in the closet lest a ghost lurking there enters them.
4. Shoes, once taken off, should be placed on the floor side by side so that one of the shoes points
in the opposite direction (e.g., the heel of one shoe is placed next to the front of the other shoe).
Doing so confuses any ghost who would put his/her feet into the shoes.
5. The comforter should be patted down and then pulled back before lying on the bed. Why? This is
done to warn the ghost to leave the bed and blankets before the guest lies down.
6. One light should be left on all night, presumably to maintain some yang in the midst of the yin.
7. Finally, it is advised never to take the last room at the end of the hall or the one way in the back of
the building. If ghosts are skulking, they are likely to take such a room.
Notes
A disclaimer: The above represents popular folk beliefs among only some and not all of the residents of Taiwan.
I might be wrong, but I seem to remember the lady who told me of her experience in the haunted hotel room also mentioned that ceiling lights flashed on and off after she had woken up her husband with a jab to the ribs.
Not hanging clothes in the closet is likely based on the same belief that it is not a good idea to leave clothes hanging on the clothesline overnight for fear ghosts could occupy the garments. Rearranging the direction of the shoes is reminiscent of those worldwide customs that involve counting rituals to flummox malevolent supernatural beings; for example, one can drop beans, which then forces the ghost or other entity to count them rather than do any harm. This reflects the notion that, while ghosts are highly dangerous because they are the antithesis of the living and jealous because they cannot be alive again, they are essentially stupid and easy to bamboozle.
This story was related to me by a student's mother a number of years ago. She insisted the details of the story really happened as she related them.
There is a hotel in a major city in Taiwan, and this hotel is reputed to be haunted. (I myself stayed there once, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred.)
This woman, her husband, and her then very small children had traveled back to Taiwan to see family members. After visiting all the relatives, the family of four took off on a brief private tour of the island. They arrived in the city where this particular hotel is located. Exhausted, they checked into the hotel, went up to their room, washed up, and went to bed.
Around midnight, the wife kept being woken up when her pillow was snatched from underneath her head. Assuming her husband was playing some kind of childish prank on her, she gave him a good jab in the ribs the third or fourth time the pillow was yanked away. He woke up and asked her why she had done that. She told him that she was annoyed he had picked that time to play a joke on her with the pillow. He denied he had been doing that. His protests convinced her he had been indeed sleeping. They both got dressed and then woke and dressed the children. They went downstairs to the front desk.
"What's going on in that room you gave us?" she told the clerk. "My pillow keeps getting pulled away from under my head!"
The clerk looked around and then told her quietly, "Sorry. In that room . . . a . . . dancehall girl committed suicide . . . "
The family was given a refund, and they checked out and found a different hotel.
Someone I know from Taiwan who wishes to remain unidentified told me that "there are some rituals to employ before entering a hotel room so as not to disturb or disrespect the ghost or ghosts that might still be inside."
The following are the reported protocols:
1. First, before entering the room for the first time, one needs to knock to let the ghost know a visitor
is about to enter. It is said some hotel guests will go as far as to announce verbally in a polite tone
that they are preparing to enter as they knock on the door.
2. Once inside, one is to turn on all the lights--ceiling and bathroom lights as well as bedside lamps--
to allow the yin （陰 or 阴； i.e., the dark, passive, negative, occult, hidden) to become the yang
(陽 or 阳; i.e., the bright, active, positive, open, unhidden).
3. One is advised not to hang up clothes in the closet lest a ghost lurking there enters them.
4. Shoes, once taken off, should be placed on the floor side by side so that one of the shoes points
in the opposite direction (e.g., the heel of one shoe is placed next to the front of the other shoe).
Doing so confuses any ghost who would put his/her feet into the shoes.
5. The comforter should be patted down and then pulled back before lying on the bed. Why? This is
done to warn the ghost to leave the bed and blankets before the guest lies down.
6. One light should be left on all night, presumably to maintain some yang in the midst of the yin.
7. Finally, it is advised never to take the last room at the end of the hall or the one way in the back of
the building. If ghosts are skulking, they are likely to take such a room.
Notes
A disclaimer: The above represents popular folk beliefs among only some and not all of the residents of Taiwan.
I might be wrong, but I seem to remember the lady who told me of her experience in the haunted hotel room also mentioned that ceiling lights flashed on and off after she had woken up her husband with a jab to the ribs.
Not hanging clothes in the closet is likely based on the same belief that it is not a good idea to leave clothes hanging on the clothesline overnight for fear ghosts could occupy the garments. Rearranging the direction of the shoes is reminiscent of those worldwide customs that involve counting rituals to flummox malevolent supernatural beings; for example, one can drop beans, which then forces the ghost or other entity to count them rather than do any harm. This reflects the notion that, while ghosts are highly dangerous because they are the antithesis of the living and jealous because they cannot be alive again, they are essentially stupid and easy to bamboozle.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Some Taiwanese Proverbs About Roosters and Chickens
Happy New Year--the Year of the Rooster! I hope you enjoy the following sampling of Taiwanese proverbs about hens, roosters, chicks, and chickens in general selected for the new year.
1. 雞嘴變鴨嘴 The mouth of the chicken turns into the mouth of a duck. (Said of someone who first speaks forcefully, determinedly, even stubbornly but who then ends up being unable to speak at
all.)
2. 雞母帶子輕鬆， 雞公帶子拖帆 The hen is relaxed taking care of the chick, while the rooster
finds doing so tough going. (Said of an individual who takes on a task for which he/she is
unqualified. Think of the Norwegian folktale "The Husband Who was to Mind the House.")
3. 雞仔腸， 鳥仔肚 Chicken intestine (but) bird stomach. (Said of situations, problems that cannot
be remedied.)
4. 雞母屎， 半黑白 Chicken droppings are black and white. (Describing one who is irresolute, one
who lacks a point of view.)
5. 有看雞， 沒看人 To see the chicken but not see the person. (Said of someone who is "a work in
progress," someone with potential, like one who is still "a diamond in the rough.")
6. 大猴哄雞 The big monkey frightens the chicken. (Describing someone without forbearance or
tolerance.)
7. 偷掠雞也得了米 A poached chicken ending up with a grain of rice. (Said of someone
encountering a great stroke of luck.)
8. 曹操吃雞筋--食之無味， 棄之可惜 Cao Cao's eating chicken muscle--a flavorless thing to
eat, yet throwing it away would be a pity. (Cao Cao, the archvillain from The Romance of the
Three Kingdoms, is often encountered in proverbs. This proverb reflects the desire to
"have things both ways" but faced with the reality that this isn't possible, as well as wanting
to hold onto things of little or no value.)
from
台灣歇後語 [Taiwanese Folk Similes], Wu Reixing, ed. Tainan: Duanbo, 2002; 最新俗成語智慧
[Wisdom From the Latest Common Proverbs], Wang Shuixing, ed. New Taipei City: Junjia, 2012;
台灣諺語集成 [Integrated Taiwanese Proverbs], Guan Meifen, ed. Tainan: Wenguo, 2002; www.folktw.com.tw/folksay
1. 雞嘴變鴨嘴 The mouth of the chicken turns into the mouth of a duck. (Said of someone who first speaks forcefully, determinedly, even stubbornly but who then ends up being unable to speak at
all.)
2. 雞母帶子輕鬆， 雞公帶子拖帆 The hen is relaxed taking care of the chick, while the rooster
finds doing so tough going. (Said of an individual who takes on a task for which he/she is
unqualified. Think of the Norwegian folktale "The Husband Who was to Mind the House.")
3. 雞仔腸， 鳥仔肚 Chicken intestine (but) bird stomach. (Said of situations, problems that cannot
be remedied.)
4. 雞母屎， 半黑白 Chicken droppings are black and white. (Describing one who is irresolute, one
who lacks a point of view.)
5. 有看雞， 沒看人 To see the chicken but not see the person. (Said of someone who is "a work in
progress," someone with potential, like one who is still "a diamond in the rough.")
6. 大猴哄雞 The big monkey frightens the chicken. (Describing someone without forbearance or
tolerance.)
7. 偷掠雞也得了米 A poached chicken ending up with a grain of rice. (Said of someone
encountering a great stroke of luck.)
8. 曹操吃雞筋--食之無味， 棄之可惜 Cao Cao's eating chicken muscle--a flavorless thing to
eat, yet throwing it away would be a pity. (Cao Cao, the archvillain from The Romance of the
Three Kingdoms, is often encountered in proverbs. This proverb reflects the desire to
"have things both ways" but faced with the reality that this isn't possible, as well as wanting
to hold onto things of little or no value.)
from
台灣歇後語 [Taiwanese Folk Similes], Wu Reixing, ed. Tainan: Duanbo, 2002; 最新俗成語智慧
[Wisdom From the Latest Common Proverbs], Wang Shuixing, ed. New Taipei City: Junjia, 2012;
台灣諺語集成 [Integrated Taiwanese Proverbs], Guan Meifen, ed. Tainan: Wenguo, 2002; www.folktw.com.tw/folksay
Thursday, January 12, 2017
The Owl Seeks a Wife (Guangdong -- Hakka)
The owl wanted to marry the partridge, so he enlisted the help of the pit snail for help, to serve as his marriage broker.
"All right, " said the pit snail to the owl, "listen very carefully. The partridge is very pretty; we all know that. As for you, you are a fine, sturdy fellow, but there's one problem: your eyes are too large! Now, when you meet her, keep your eyes closed! Otherwise, you're liable to spoil the whole deal when we go to see her!"
"All right" was the owl's reply.
"And let me do the talking!"
"All right."
The day came when the pit snail arranged for the owl and the partridge to meet each other for the first time.
The owl kept his eyes closed as the pit snail built up the owl in front of the partridge, bragging how great, how wonderful the owl was. All was going splendidly according to the plan, with the partridge showing more and more interest in the owl as each minute passed.
Then the owl decided to take a tiny peek at the partridge. He had seen her from afar, of course, but couldn't resist the temptation of glimpsing the lovely partridge now that he was this close to her. What harm could a little peek do?
Well, there's no such thing as "a little peek" from an owl. When the partridge came face-to-face with the two huge saucer eyes staring at her inches away, she immediately flew off to a nearby hillock.
"Whew!" she squawked. "That was close! I was going to marry him!"
The pit snail was fuming. He turned to the owl and said, "I told you, I told you, I told you to keep your eyes shut! Why didn't you listen to me?"
All the owl could say was "Ku-hu! Ku-hu! Ku-hu!"
From far away, the pit snail and owl could hear the partridge say, "Sha-gua! Hao-ah! Hao-ah!"
from
广东民间故事全书：汕尾陆河卷 [The Complete Folktales of Guangdong: Shanwei and Luhe Volume]; Guangdong Union of Arts and Literature; Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu; 2008; p.159.
Shanwei and Luhe are districts of Guangdong where primarily the Hakka (AKA Kejia or Hakkanese 客家) dialect is spoken.
This pourquoi tale purports to explain the origins behind the cries of, respectively, the owl and the partridge and what they actually mean. In the story, the owl's cry of "ku-hu" is written as 苦呼, suggesting something like "Oh, the pain!" or "The bitterness!" The partridge's "Sha-gua! Hao-ah!" 傻瓜！ 好啊！can be translated as "Fool! Good!" or "Okay, idiot!" The "pit" snail 坑螺 had the character 精 attached, suggesting this tiny creature was a shape-shifter.
Motifs: A2426.2.17, "Origin of owl's cries"; A2427.3, "Hooting explained"; A2462.2, "Cries of birds"; B623.2, "Owl as suitor."
"All right, " said the pit snail to the owl, "listen very carefully. The partridge is very pretty; we all know that. As for you, you are a fine, sturdy fellow, but there's one problem: your eyes are too large! Now, when you meet her, keep your eyes closed! Otherwise, you're liable to spoil the whole deal when we go to see her!"
"All right" was the owl's reply.
"And let me do the talking!"
"All right."
The day came when the pit snail arranged for the owl and the partridge to meet each other for the first time.
The owl kept his eyes closed as the pit snail built up the owl in front of the partridge, bragging how great, how wonderful the owl was. All was going splendidly according to the plan, with the partridge showing more and more interest in the owl as each minute passed.
Then the owl decided to take a tiny peek at the partridge. He had seen her from afar, of course, but couldn't resist the temptation of glimpsing the lovely partridge now that he was this close to her. What harm could a little peek do?
Well, there's no such thing as "a little peek" from an owl. When the partridge came face-to-face with the two huge saucer eyes staring at her inches away, she immediately flew off to a nearby hillock.
"Whew!" she squawked. "That was close! I was going to marry him!"
The pit snail was fuming. He turned to the owl and said, "I told you, I told you, I told you to keep your eyes shut! Why didn't you listen to me?"
All the owl could say was "Ku-hu! Ku-hu! Ku-hu!"
From far away, the pit snail and owl could hear the partridge say, "Sha-gua! Hao-ah! Hao-ah!"
from
广东民间故事全书：汕尾陆河卷 [The Complete Folktales of Guangdong: Shanwei and Luhe Volume]; Guangdong Union of Arts and Literature; Guangzhou: Lingnan Meishu; 2008; p.159.
Shanwei and Luhe are districts of Guangdong where primarily the Hakka (AKA Kejia or Hakkanese 客家) dialect is spoken.
This pourquoi tale purports to explain the origins behind the cries of, respectively, the owl and the partridge and what they actually mean. In the story, the owl's cry of "ku-hu" is written as 苦呼, suggesting something like "Oh, the pain!" or "The bitterness!" The partridge's "Sha-gua! Hao-ah!" 傻瓜！ 好啊！can be translated as "Fool! Good!" or "Okay, idiot!" The "pit" snail 坑螺 had the character 精 attached, suggesting this tiny creature was a shape-shifter.
Motifs: A2426.2.17, "Origin of owl's cries"; A2427.3, "Hooting explained"; A2462.2, "Cries of birds"; B623.2, "Owl as suitor."
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Happy New Year 2017 . . . and Some Books in English
Happy New Year to everyone! May it be a joyful, loving time for all who read this and your family members.
I haven't been active for a while as I wrap up my Ph.D. dissertation. However, I'd like to take a moment to share with you seven books that have been instrumental in enabling me to understand and more fully appreciate one of my passions, Chinese folklore, specifically folktales from China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. Four of these books are by the same author. The folktales I relate on this blog, except for "The Midnight Bus" told to me in English by a premier Chinese folktale/legend scholar, come directly from Chinese sources I have translated. However, the books that follow below have been very helpful in allowing me insight into the psychological/anthropological/sociological backdrops of the tales.
#7 Guilt and Sin in Traditional China (Wolfram Eberhard; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967)
On this list, this is the first of 4 books by the late great German-born American sociologist and sinologist, Wolfram Eberhard. In this very slim volume, Eberhard analyzes the manifestations of guilt and sin in Chinese Buddhist writings and popular literature. He especially focuses on the theme of suicide. Everything he writes about in this book can be found as themes and motifs in folktales, legends, and myths. This book serves as an excellent introduction to traditional Chinese mores.
#6 Studies in Taiwanese Folktales (W. Eberhard; Taipei: Orient Cultural Service, 1974)
Here, Eberhard provides sociological analyses of several famous folktales that are told in Taiwan. One of them, "Momotaro" (aka, "The Peach Boy") is actually a Japanese tale widely known in Taiwan. The most famous story "Grandaunt Tiger" is given an extended analysis that might interest anyone involved in a social science.
#5 A Dictionary of Chinese Symbols (W. Eberhard; London: Routledge, 1983)
This is a very good basic compendium of symbols that can be found as motifs and metaphors in Chinese folklore.
#4 Outlines of Chinese Symbolism and Art Motives (C.A.S. Williams; New York: Dover, 1976)
Outlines overlaps in many areas with Eberhard's book on symbols. Williams's articles tend to be a little lengthier than Eberhard's. His book nicely complements Eberhard's later work on symbols.
#3 Gods, Ghosts, & Ancestors: Folk Religion in a Taiwanese Village (David K. Jordan; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973)
A masterful introduction to Taiwanese folk religion. It was eye-opening to me when I first read it back in 1976 in Taiwan. It introduced to me the world of ghost brides and temple shamans. In my view, it is the best book of its kind.
#2 Folktales of China (W. Eberhard; New York: Washington Square Press, 1973)
An excellent survey of folktales, legends, and myths from across China, 79 in all, each appended with notes that provide some sociological/anthropological insight for that particular tale.
#1 Strange Stories From a Chinese Studio (Pu Songling; H.A. Giles, trans. New York: Dover, 1969)
This book, along with Lafcadio Hearn's Kwaidan, initiated my interest in East Asian folklore. It is an amazing collection of supernatural tales from the Ming Dynasty. Giles's edition is still one of the best. Shape-shifting foxes, ghosts, and early forms of what would be known as urban legends--they're all here.
I haven't been active for a while as I wrap up my Ph.D. dissertation. However, I'd like to take a moment to share with you seven books that have been instrumental in enabling me to understand and more fully appreciate one of my passions, Chinese folklore, specifically folktales from China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. Four of these books are by the same author. The folktales I relate on this blog, except for "The Midnight Bus" told to me in English by a premier Chinese folktale/legend scholar, come directly from Chinese sources I have translated. However, the books that follow below have been very helpful in allowing me insight into the psychological/anthropological/sociological backdrops of the tales.
#7 Guilt and Sin in Traditional China (Wolfram Eberhard; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967)
On this list, this is the first of 4 books by the late great German-born American sociologist and sinologist, Wolfram Eberhard. In this very slim volume, Eberhard analyzes the manifestations of guilt and sin in Chinese Buddhist writings and popular literature. He especially focuses on the theme of suicide. Everything he writes about in this book can be found as themes and motifs in folktales, legends, and myths. This book serves as an excellent introduction to traditional Chinese mores.
#6 Studies in Taiwanese Folktales (W. Eberhard; Taipei: Orient Cultural Service, 1974)
Here, Eberhard provides sociological analyses of several famous folktales that are told in Taiwan. One of them, "Momotaro" (aka, "The Peach Boy") is actually a Japanese tale widely known in Taiwan. The most famous story "Grandaunt Tiger" is given an extended analysis that might interest anyone involved in a social science.
#5 A Dictionary of Chinese Symbols (W. Eberhard; London: Routledge, 1983)
This is a very good basic compendium of symbols that can be found as motifs and metaphors in Chinese folklore.
#4 Outlines of Chinese Symbolism and Art Motives (C.A.S. Williams; New York: Dover, 1976)
Outlines overlaps in many areas with Eberhard's book on symbols. Williams's articles tend to be a little lengthier than Eberhard's. His book nicely complements Eberhard's later work on symbols.
#3 Gods, Ghosts, & Ancestors: Folk Religion in a Taiwanese Village (David K. Jordan; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973)
A masterful introduction to Taiwanese folk religion. It was eye-opening to me when I first read it back in 1976 in Taiwan. It introduced to me the world of ghost brides and temple shamans. In my view, it is the best book of its kind.
#2 Folktales of China (W. Eberhard; New York: Washington Square Press, 1973)
An excellent survey of folktales, legends, and myths from across China, 79 in all, each appended with notes that provide some sociological/anthropological insight for that particular tale.
#1 Strange Stories From a Chinese Studio (Pu Songling; H.A. Giles, trans. New York: Dover, 1969)
This book, along with Lafcadio Hearn's Kwaidan, initiated my interest in East Asian folklore. It is an amazing collection of supernatural tales from the Ming Dynasty. Giles's edition is still one of the best. Shape-shifting foxes, ghosts, and early forms of what would be known as urban legends--they're all here.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
The Bleeding Tree (Baima)
Long ago there was a walled village on the slopes of a mountain. Halfway up this mountain was a crag out of which there grew a tree with black leaves.
Every day this tree would cast its shadow onto the water vat belonging to a family whose home was located at one end of bridge that crossed a reservoir. In the evening the tree blocked the moonlight in another direction, likewise casting a shadow over a different family's water vat.
Both households continually prospered.
This situation was not lost on the rest of the villagers. Those who pondered would think, Both families have their water vats shaded by the tree with black leaves. Both are also very prosperous families. Why, though? What's the connection?
Finally, someone in the village said to some others, "Listen. It's very simple. The tree shrouds only their water vats and no one else's. That's unfair! The tree's clearly biased towards those two households! The tree won't shade our water vats and let us enjoy some of the wealth, so let's cut down that despicable tree that plays favorites!"
This angry man and his hangers-on went up the slope of the mountain and prepared to chop the tree down. All day long, they took turns hacking away at the tree but to no avail. The tree stood as sturdy as ever. They called it a day and headed back home.
That night, one of those who had tried to cut the tree down had a vivid dream. In the dream, the tree with black leaves spoke to him, saying, "Those fellows don't realize how close they really came to cutting me down. They also don't know I'm not afraid of cutting or chopping. I'm only afraid of coming and going."
The next day this man told the others who wished to cut down the tree what the tree had said in his dream.
Hearing the contents of the dream, one of the men said, "The tree said it doesn't fear cutting or chopping, just 'coming and going.' 'Coming and going . . .' That can mean only one thing: The tree is afraid of sawing!"
The men located a saw and rushed up the mountain to finish the job. They sawed down the tree easily enough.
Once the tree with black leaves had been cut down, out from the stump flowed blood . . .
A terrible mistake had been made, but of course now it was too late.
Within a few days, all the men who had participated in sawing the tree down died one by one from illness. The two families who had enjoyed prosperity from the tree's shadows now entered into financial decline. The crag from which the tree had grown split in two large formations leaning precariously over the village. The villagers, cursing the men who had sawed the tree, begged the rock for forgiveness and performed rites at the scene to protect the village.
The two rocks did not roll down and are still up there. It is said that if one stands on the road outside the village, one can spot those two separate crags perched above.
from
陇南白马人民俗文化研究 [Studies in the Folklore of the Baima People of Longnan]; Lanzhou: Gansu Renmin Chubanshe, 2012.
The Baima, or Baima Tibetans, are spread out through Gansu (the location of Longnan) and Sichuan Provinces. They originally didn't possess their own writing system. They preserve an animist and totemic religious system with influences from the ancient Tibetan Bon religion. 白馬人 - 维基百科，自由的百科全书; Baima people - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. The "tree with black leaves" may be the goldenrain, or Koelreuteria paniculata, native to the Far East and introduced to North America in the 18th century. Its Chinese name is luan [栾树], but it's also known as "the tree with black leaves."
Motifs: cC51.2.2, "Tabu: Cutting sacred tree"; D950, "Magic tree"; *D1316.5, "Magic speaking tree betrays secret"; D1316.5.1, "Voice comes forth from tree, revealing truth"; F811.20, "Bleeding tree"; Q301, "Jealousy punished."
Every day this tree would cast its shadow onto the water vat belonging to a family whose home was located at one end of bridge that crossed a reservoir. In the evening the tree blocked the moonlight in another direction, likewise casting a shadow over a different family's water vat.
Both households continually prospered.
This situation was not lost on the rest of the villagers. Those who pondered would think, Both families have their water vats shaded by the tree with black leaves. Both are also very prosperous families. Why, though? What's the connection?
Finally, someone in the village said to some others, "Listen. It's very simple. The tree shrouds only their water vats and no one else's. That's unfair! The tree's clearly biased towards those two households! The tree won't shade our water vats and let us enjoy some of the wealth, so let's cut down that despicable tree that plays favorites!"
This angry man and his hangers-on went up the slope of the mountain and prepared to chop the tree down. All day long, they took turns hacking away at the tree but to no avail. The tree stood as sturdy as ever. They called it a day and headed back home.
That night, one of those who had tried to cut the tree down had a vivid dream. In the dream, the tree with black leaves spoke to him, saying, "Those fellows don't realize how close they really came to cutting me down. They also don't know I'm not afraid of cutting or chopping. I'm only afraid of coming and going."
The next day this man told the others who wished to cut down the tree what the tree had said in his dream.
Hearing the contents of the dream, one of the men said, "The tree said it doesn't fear cutting or chopping, just 'coming and going.' 'Coming and going . . .' That can mean only one thing: The tree is afraid of sawing!"
The men located a saw and rushed up the mountain to finish the job. They sawed down the tree easily enough.
Once the tree with black leaves had been cut down, out from the stump flowed blood . . .
A terrible mistake had been made, but of course now it was too late.
Within a few days, all the men who had participated in sawing the tree down died one by one from illness. The two families who had enjoyed prosperity from the tree's shadows now entered into financial decline. The crag from which the tree had grown split in two large formations leaning precariously over the village. The villagers, cursing the men who had sawed the tree, begged the rock for forgiveness and performed rites at the scene to protect the village.
The two rocks did not roll down and are still up there. It is said that if one stands on the road outside the village, one can spot those two separate crags perched above.
from
陇南白马人民俗文化研究 [Studies in the Folklore of the Baima People of Longnan]; Lanzhou: Gansu Renmin Chubanshe, 2012.
The Baima, or Baima Tibetans, are spread out through Gansu (the location of Longnan) and Sichuan Provinces. They originally didn't possess their own writing system. They preserve an animist and totemic religious system with influences from the ancient Tibetan Bon religion. 白馬人 - 维基百科，自由的百科全书; Baima people - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. The "tree with black leaves" may be the goldenrain, or Koelreuteria paniculata, native to the Far East and introduced to North America in the 18th century. Its Chinese name is luan [栾树], but it's also known as "the tree with black leaves."
Motifs: cC51.2.2, "Tabu: Cutting sacred tree"; D950, "Magic tree"; *D1316.5, "Magic speaking tree betrays secret"; D1316.5.1, "Voice comes forth from tree, revealing truth"; F811.20, "Bleeding tree"; Q301, "Jealousy punished."
Monday, July 4, 2016
The Two Brothers and the Chinless Ghost (Han)
Two brothers lived up on Bear Ear Mountain, where they had made themselves some sort of makeshift home. There, they grew melons, and they were quite good at it. On the seventh month of every year, people would journey from far and wide up the mountain to buy and to gorge themselves on the luscious melons.
Now, not far from the brothers' melon patch was a hillock of unattended tombs, and this place became the source of all the trouble that was to occur. Every night this forsaken area would be the scene of ghostly activities. Come sundown, ghost fires, will-o-the-wisps, would flock together and flit about, scaring the wits out of anyone nearby, discouraging folks from approaching the melon patch in the day time.
The two brothers were aware of this but continued their chores as diligently as ever, paying little mind to the haunted hillock.
One night a chinless ghost carrying a lantern in one hand and a brass gong in the other came to the fence of the melon patch while the brothers were still there.
Banging the gong, the chinless ghost sang: "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Let me me have some melons!"
The older brother said not a word.
The young brother said, "Well, your big tooth wants to chomp and your little tooth wants to chomp."
The chinless ghost then made nightly visits to the melon patch, banging his gong and chanting his strange song. The brothers watched him very closely, concerned that their melons not be stolen but otherwise unbothered by the presence of the ghost. Night after night, though, the ghost would come but never tried to take a melon.
This went on continuously for many nights, starting just after sundown. The ghost's nocturnal visits began to take its toll on the brothers. They now became disturbed by all this, waiting for the next shoe to drop. They decided to capture this ghost and give him a taste of his own medicine.
They waited until they were ready to do something about this annoyance. The night for action finally came. The brothers stood and waited . . .
The sun had set, and as expected the brothers soon heard the telltale song, "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Let me have some melons!"
The chinless ghost, banging his gong, came into the view.
The two brothers immediately sprang towards the ghost. The ghost turned tail and fled before them. As fast as the brothers ran, they were at first no match for the ghost. When the brothers slowed down, the ghost, as if taunting them, slowed down to match their pace. When the brothers stopped and then resumed running after the ghost, the ghost likewise stopped and began to run when the brothers did. The brothers eventually got within four or five paces of the ghost, but all the running finally got to them and they stopped their pursuit.
The ghost slipped away, and the boys called it a night. They went back to their shed.
The next night, they tried something different.
The older boy had his younger brother go down the mountain to keep watch.
Down the mountain, the younger brother ran into an old fellow and they conversed, with the younger brother telling the old man about their attempt to catch the ghost.
"So, you want to catch this ghost, eh? Easy!" said the old fellow. "Here's what you and your brother do. Tie your shoes upside down under your feet . . . "
"What?!"
"Just hear me out," the old man continued. "Also, in your right hands, carry a branch from a peach tree. In your left hands, carry a red string. When the ghost appears, go after him. Trust me. Do all this and you'll catch him, all right. Then beat him with the branches. Now listen--this is very important. After you get hold of him and punish him, notice what's on the ground near and around him. This is where the string comes in handy."
The young brother thanked the old man and went back up the mountain. He told his older brother what the old man had said. They both agreed to give the old man's plan a try.
Late that afternoon, they were ready, with shoes tied upside down and all.
Just after twilight the chinless ghost came as if on cue.
As before the two brothers, each carrying a peach tree branch in one hand and red string in the other, sprang forward to catch him with their shoes tied to their feet in this ridiculous manner.
Surprise of surprises, the ghost could now barely move. With the two boys running like hoof-less ponies, the ghost himself turned but only ended up running as if weighted down with lead pants. He hadn't gotten very far when the two boys were able to reach him and beat him soundly with the tree branches.
"Oooh! Ahh!" yelped the ghost, thereupon vanishing before their eyes.
It was then the two boys noticed some objects littered on the ground near where the chinless ghost had been. They looked closely--persimmons.
"Persimmons? In the seventh month?" The older brother shook his head. He knew this couldn't be right.
The two brothers strung the persimmons on the lengths of string they had carried and took them home. They then discovered that in the day, the persimmons remained persimmons, but at night they turned into small shining lanterns.
Three days passed.
Then, on the evening of the fourth day, there appeared a whole host of chinless ghosts, each banging a gong and chanting with each step, "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Return our lanterns to us! Otherwise, we eat up all the melons!"
Just as the chinless ghosts snatched up the strings of lanterns, the two brothers set out after them. The ghosts turned and fled with their lanterns, the brothers right on their heels. They ran and ran, and chased the ghosts all the way down to the edge of Black Dragon Pond, where--Katong!--the chinless ghosts, one by one, jumped into the dark water.
From that time on, there were no more ghostly visitations at the melon patch. The troop of chinless ghosts had been permanently scattered!
from
民间文学; [Folk Literature]; Li Munan, et al., NP: Green Apple Data Center, 2006.
Ghosts without chins are a staple in oral ghost literature in China. Why, though? Perhaps the chinless feature accentuates the ghost's creepy otherworldliness; in addition, the loss of the jaw bone signifies an entity that will soon be a skeleton. (That fewer things are deader than a skeleton may be the thinking here.) The seventh month of the lunar calendar is associated with the appearance of ghosts. Hence, it's popularly known as "Ghost Month" [鬼月], a time when unnecessary travel is curtailed. Fresh persimmons in July would be like blooming roses on a cold winter's day; therefore, something to avoid. An interesting detail in the story is the counterintuitive plan of wearing shoes upside down on the feet in order to capture the ghost. We see successful ideas that contradict common sense often in world folklore, suggesting that sometimes we need to think outside the box, to do something radically different to solve an impasse. It works in folktales and sometimes in real life!
Motifs: E402.1.1.3, "Ghost cries and screams"; E402.1.1.4, "Ghost sings"; E554, "Ghost plays musical instrument"'; E999.7, "Ghost carries a lantern"; F91, "Will-o'-the-Wisp."
Now, not far from the brothers' melon patch was a hillock of unattended tombs, and this place became the source of all the trouble that was to occur. Every night this forsaken area would be the scene of ghostly activities. Come sundown, ghost fires, will-o-the-wisps, would flock together and flit about, scaring the wits out of anyone nearby, discouraging folks from approaching the melon patch in the day time.
The two brothers were aware of this but continued their chores as diligently as ever, paying little mind to the haunted hillock.
One night a chinless ghost carrying a lantern in one hand and a brass gong in the other came to the fence of the melon patch while the brothers were still there.
Banging the gong, the chinless ghost sang: "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Let me me have some melons!"
The older brother said not a word.
The young brother said, "Well, your big tooth wants to chomp and your little tooth wants to chomp."
The chinless ghost then made nightly visits to the melon patch, banging his gong and chanting his strange song. The brothers watched him very closely, concerned that their melons not be stolen but otherwise unbothered by the presence of the ghost. Night after night, though, the ghost would come but never tried to take a melon.
This went on continuously for many nights, starting just after sundown. The ghost's nocturnal visits began to take its toll on the brothers. They now became disturbed by all this, waiting for the next shoe to drop. They decided to capture this ghost and give him a taste of his own medicine.
They waited until they were ready to do something about this annoyance. The night for action finally came. The brothers stood and waited . . .
The sun had set, and as expected the brothers soon heard the telltale song, "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Let me have some melons!"
The chinless ghost, banging his gong, came into the view.
The two brothers immediately sprang towards the ghost. The ghost turned tail and fled before them. As fast as the brothers ran, they were at first no match for the ghost. When the brothers slowed down, the ghost, as if taunting them, slowed down to match their pace. When the brothers stopped and then resumed running after the ghost, the ghost likewise stopped and began to run when the brothers did. The brothers eventually got within four or five paces of the ghost, but all the running finally got to them and they stopped their pursuit.
The ghost slipped away, and the boys called it a night. They went back to their shed.
The next night, they tried something different.
The older boy had his younger brother go down the mountain to keep watch.
Down the mountain, the younger brother ran into an old fellow and they conversed, with the younger brother telling the old man about their attempt to catch the ghost.
"So, you want to catch this ghost, eh? Easy!" said the old fellow. "Here's what you and your brother do. Tie your shoes upside down under your feet . . . "
"What?!"
"Just hear me out," the old man continued. "Also, in your right hands, carry a branch from a peach tree. In your left hands, carry a red string. When the ghost appears, go after him. Trust me. Do all this and you'll catch him, all right. Then beat him with the branches. Now listen--this is very important. After you get hold of him and punish him, notice what's on the ground near and around him. This is where the string comes in handy."
The young brother thanked the old man and went back up the mountain. He told his older brother what the old man had said. They both agreed to give the old man's plan a try.
Late that afternoon, they were ready, with shoes tied upside down and all.
Just after twilight the chinless ghost came as if on cue.
As before the two brothers, each carrying a peach tree branch in one hand and red string in the other, sprang forward to catch him with their shoes tied to their feet in this ridiculous manner.
Surprise of surprises, the ghost could now barely move. With the two boys running like hoof-less ponies, the ghost himself turned but only ended up running as if weighted down with lead pants. He hadn't gotten very far when the two boys were able to reach him and beat him soundly with the tree branches.
"Oooh! Ahh!" yelped the ghost, thereupon vanishing before their eyes.
It was then the two boys noticed some objects littered on the ground near where the chinless ghost had been. They looked closely--persimmons.
"Persimmons? In the seventh month?" The older brother shook his head. He knew this couldn't be right.
The two brothers strung the persimmons on the lengths of string they had carried and took them home. They then discovered that in the day, the persimmons remained persimmons, but at night they turned into small shining lanterns.
Three days passed.
Then, on the evening of the fourth day, there appeared a whole host of chinless ghosts, each banging a gong and chanting with each step, "My chops! My chops! Bang! Bang! Return our lanterns to us! Otherwise, we eat up all the melons!"
Just as the chinless ghosts snatched up the strings of lanterns, the two brothers set out after them. The ghosts turned and fled with their lanterns, the brothers right on their heels. They ran and ran, and chased the ghosts all the way down to the edge of Black Dragon Pond, where--Katong!--the chinless ghosts, one by one, jumped into the dark water.
From that time on, there were no more ghostly visitations at the melon patch. The troop of chinless ghosts had been permanently scattered!
from
民间文学; [Folk Literature]; Li Munan, et al., NP: Green Apple Data Center, 2006.
Ghosts without chins are a staple in oral ghost literature in China. Why, though? Perhaps the chinless feature accentuates the ghost's creepy otherworldliness; in addition, the loss of the jaw bone signifies an entity that will soon be a skeleton. (That fewer things are deader than a skeleton may be the thinking here.) The seventh month of the lunar calendar is associated with the appearance of ghosts. Hence, it's popularly known as "Ghost Month" [鬼月], a time when unnecessary travel is curtailed. Fresh persimmons in July would be like blooming roses on a cold winter's day; therefore, something to avoid. An interesting detail in the story is the counterintuitive plan of wearing shoes upside down on the feet in order to capture the ghost. We see successful ideas that contradict common sense often in world folklore, suggesting that sometimes we need to think outside the box, to do something radically different to solve an impasse. It works in folktales and sometimes in real life!
Motifs: E402.1.1.3, "Ghost cries and screams"; E402.1.1.4, "Ghost sings"; E554, "Ghost plays musical instrument"'; E999.7, "Ghost carries a lantern"; F91, "Will-o'-the-Wisp."
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