Ghost Maiden (Hmong)

 Over in A'xiubangning, there was once a huge field, where every year around New Year's Day and several days after the Tiaohua (or "Flower Jumping or Hopping") Festival would be held. Young Hmong men and women would flock there to attend the festival, take walks in the moonlight, and perhaps find the love of their lives there. 

Ruo'gai Sinilu was one of the young men who arrived to take part in this year's festival. A well-regarded, handsome youth and someone who was proficient at playing the lusheng, or bamboo flute, Ruo'gai was hoping to find his future wife on one of the upcoming evenings at the festival.  

On the opening day of the festival, Ruo'gai was there, all dressed up in his finery, playing the flute as he had never played it before. The sweet sounds of his melodious flute went up the mountains and down into the valleys. No one who heard his music mistook it for anyone else's; all felt that this young man was destined for something great. 

The beautiful spirit Niya Sigugashedi had also heard the sounds of Ruo'gai's bamboo, and unbeknownst to Ruo'gai, she had been in love with him for a number of years. At other festivals, smitten by his good looks, she had walked side by side with him as he performed and danced, and he had never been any the wiser since Niya Sigugashedi had always remained invisible.  

And now here he was again--playing the flute while dancing with high steps. 

Niya decided she would appear to him in human form and flirt and play with him a bit. If he liked her, she would commit to remaining in human form and, if possible, marry him. 

So, Ruo'gai played and danced, and then spied coming towards him a most lovely young lady, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, her loop earrings jingling, her silver necklaces shimmering in the dusk. 

A goddess . . . ? thought Ruo'gai. 

The beautiful girl walked right up to him, smiling, and said, "Ruo'gai Siniliu! Nice to meet you!"

Ruo'gai had fallen in love with her immediately before he had a chance to respond. 

"Hello . . . Whose household are you from? And how did you know my name?" 

"Hahaha! Ruo'gai, the well-known flutist and dancer? Are you joking? Even ghosts know your name."

"Then, young lady, you must be a ghost!"

"Ruo'gai," she responded with a smile, "in any case, you're not a ghost, and I'm no longer a living being. I'm Niya Sigugashedi, and I'm here to be together with you."

Niya Sigugashedi, the beautiful ghost of Hmong legend! he thought. He reached out for her hand, but she suddenly vanished into thin air. "Niya, Niya, where did you go?" he cried. 

He played his flute, hoping its sounds would reach Niya, wherever she was. 

Then, from the air itself, came the sound of someone making music with a leaf, the sound of a mu'ye, and, in the euphonious voice of a young woman, it said, "Ruo'gai, I'm at Dao'yue'ning, waiting for you! Come to me whether you love me or not!"

Ruo'gai instantly headed for Dao'yue'ning. Once there, he looked all over for Niya but could find no trace of her. 

Yes, he thought, it must indeed be a ghost with whom I'm in love. 

Playing the flute, he sang, "Niya! Niya! Where are you?"  

Once again came the squeaky, high-pitched sound of mu'ye music, with a voice saying, "Ruo'gai! I'm by the Great Sea, waiting for you! Come to me whether you love me or not!"

After some time, Ruo'gai finally arrived at the Great Sea. Across the water, on the other shore, was Niya, apparently washing something. Her image in the shimmering water entranced him. 

"Ruo'gai," she said, "you'll need to cross this water to come here. Here, come on over by walking on this cloth as a bridge." 

She unfurled the roll of cloth, which then instantly turned into a stone bridge that ended right where Ruo'gai stood. 

"Come on!" she said. "It's safe!"

Ruo'gai walked on the bridge and thus crossed over to be by the side of Niya. 

"Let's become husband and wife," said Ruo'gai. 

"I've loved you for a long time," said Niya, "and I'll gladly return to the world of the living just to be with you! Now, I'll need to let my father and mother know about our plans. There might be some trouble with them, but you'll need to meet them. Are you ready to go with me so that I can introduce you to them?"

"Let's go!" said Ruo'gai. 

Niya took Ruo'gai deep into a long, dark cave. Along the corridors of the caves were mounds of bones, and on the walls hung human legs. Ruo'gai felt the hair on his neck rise with alarm and his teeth chatter as he proceeded deep into the cave. 

Finally, they arrived at a chamber, and inside were Niya's parents, two old ghosts. The mother and father knew that this must be the man their daughter had fallen in love with and would wed. They also sensed that he was not wealthy but rather somewhat impoverished. They were deeply incensed that their daughter would love such a man, but they still put on a good show and feigned delight. 

"Ah, Niya," said the father, "you've brought our son-in-law to be! We'll prepare your accommodations for tonight in the annex. Tomorrow shall be the big day with a special wedding banquet!"

"Thank you, Father and Mother!" said Niya, but she knew something was amiss. The giveaway was her parents' having them stay in the annex instead of one of the bedrooms. 

Ruo'gai felt very happy about meeting the parents and believed they liked him. 

Afterward, when they had left the presence of her parents, Niya turned to Ruo'gai and said, "Don't be so happy. You're marked for death."

Ruo'gai, who had been very pleased with his future parents-in-law, asked, "What do you mean? 'Marked for death' by whom? Your parents? They were very sweet and I enjoyed meeting them."

"You're too trusting. The main dish for the big dinner tomorrow shall be you!"

"We'll need to flee from this place," said Ruo'gai. 

"Yes," said Niya, "we shall, but first wait here for a moment while I return home to collect a few items that I'll need."

Soon she returned with the following objects: three horse spoons, three chopsticks, and three spirit nets. The horse spoons would be talismans the ghosts found to be noxious and tabooed, something they would deeply fear; the chopsticks would be for obstructing the movements of ghosts; and the spirit nets would be for permanently entrapping the ghosts. 

In the middle of the night, "when no chickens were clucking or dogs were barking," as they say, the pair fled into the darkness. Their escape did not go unnoticed. The little ghosts guarding the area reported this back to Niya's parents, who ordered the ghosts to capture the pair. 

Niya had anticipated all this. Of course, no mortal could possibly move as swiftly as a ghost, so Niya threw a horse spoon behind them as they ran along the path, forcing the alarmed ghosts to take a very wide detour to catch up to them. Niya was aware of this and tossed another horse spoon behind them. This again greatly deterred the pursuing ghosts, allowing Niya and Ruo'gai to escape farther along the path. When she sensed the ghosts had once again become close to catching up, she threw down the final horse spoon. 

Niya and Ruo'gai proceeded on while the ghosts had yet again to find a long way around the horse spoon. 

Soon enough it became apparent that the ghosts were once again close to catching up. Niya took one of the chopsticks and tossed it behind them. Immediately, a lush virtual forest of asparagus stalks appeared between Niya and Ruo'gai on one side and the ghosts on the other. Now, if there's one thing that ghosts just love, it's asparagus. The ghosts stopped in their tracks, collected all the asparagus they could carry, and took the asparagus stalks back to their home. 

Niya and Ruo'gai continued on, and soon it was time to discard another chopstick, leading to the sprouting of another asparagus "forest." This again sidetracked the ever-approaching ghosts, forcing them to pick as many stalks of asparagus as they could carry away. Niya was eventually forced later to throw down the last chopstick. 

They continued and then realized the very speedy ghosts were not far behind them. This time Niya threw down all three spirit nets. This very act and the result of seeing three such nets facing them terrified the ghosts so much that they feared to continue their pursuit of Niya and Ruo'gai. The ghosts halted in their tracks. They turned around in great fear and fled back to from where they had come. 

Niya and Ruo'gai reached the land of the living, and she re-entered life as a human. They married and both worked hard to build good lives for themselves and the children they had planned to have. Not long after, they indeed had children. Ruo'gai plowed the land and grew crops, while Niya spun and wove cloth. They lived good lives until, as it is said, "they grew old and white-haired."

from

Guizhou minjiangushi 贵州民间故事 [Folktales of Guizhou]; pp. 97-101. (See 3/31/22 for citation.)

Here's a YouTube video of the Hmong Tiaohua Festival: 苗族千人同跳芦笙舞过“跳花节” / Hop Flower Festival of Miao People in Guizhou, China - YouTube 

I had some difficulty with the Chinese transcriptions of Hmong names (Ruo'gaisinilu 若改司尼陆 and Niyasigugashedi 尼亚司谷尕社笛), and so for better or worse I mainly kept the first two characters for their names. In any case, a note following the story indicates that Niyasigugashedi is a legendary Hmong ghost renowned for her great beauty. There was no mention of Ruo'gai's parents in the tale. 

This supernatural spouse folktale, unlike many others, has a happy ending. The "Great Sea" is not specified. It seems to suggest that Ruo'gai journeyed all the way to the shores of the South China Sea, though this "Great Sea" might very well be a large inland lake. The obstacle flight (i.e., the escape methods by which Niya and Ruo'gai evade the pursuing ghosts) reveals to us that ghosts have a deep, enduring love for asparagus. The spirit nets remind me of Native American spirit catchers. 

Mu'ye 木叶 music is created by one's blowing upon a single sturdy leaf, and it seems to be used, among other purposes, to convey messages of love and affection. 

Motifs: D672, "Obstacle flight"; D1258.1, "Bridge made by magic"; D1980, "Magic invisibility"; cE322.1, "Dead wife returns and bears children for husband"; E384, "Ghost summoned by music"; E425, "Revenant as woman"; E461, "Flight of revenant with living person"; E470, "Intimate relations of dead and living"; E474, "Cohabitation of dead and living";  E480, "Abode of the dead"; E599.5, "Ghost travels swiftly"; F842, "Extraordinary bridge"; R200, "Escape(s) and pursuit(s)"; T91.3, "Love of mortal and supernatural person"; T97, "Father (and Mother) opposed to daughter's marriage"; T111, "Marriage of mortal and supernatural being." 

In the House of the Weretigress (Hmong)

Note: This rather grim (pun intended) tale should perhaps be avoided by very young readers due to both language and violence. 

A young woman was out tending to her flock of ducks and noticed one of her ducks had somehow left the flock and entered the forest. With the rest of the ducks secured, she set off into the forest to look for her lost duck. 

She made duck calls as she searched through the woods. 

"Ga, ga, ga!" she heard in reply to her duck calls.  

She went deeper into the forest in the direction of the sound that resembled that of a duck--except it wasn't a duck that was making that call. No, it was an old tigress and her cub which had caught sight of the young lady from afar while remaining concealed in the thick bushes. The old tigress changed herself into an old woman and her cub into a small girl. She next conjured up a house in the clearing just behind her. 

By the time the young woman had cleared the brush, the old tigress, now in the guise of an old woman, was sitting near the open doorway of her house, spinning cotton.

"Grandmother!" said the young lady calling out to the old woman, the tiger. "Have you seen a duck around here?"

"Oh . . . yes . . . " said the old woman. 

“Where is it?"

"It's in the rice paddy in the back," the old woman nonchalantly replied, "eating fish shavings."

"Oh, thank you, Grandmother!" said the girl, turning around to head over to the rice paddy. 

"No hurry! No hurry!" said the old woman. "You look tired. Come inside and rest a while. There are plenty of fish shavings out there, so let your duck eat its fill before you go get it!"

Well, truth be told, the young woman was a bit tired, so she accepted the invitation and entered the house. After resting for a bit, she said, "Thank you so much. I'll go get the duck."

"No hurry!" said the old woman. "Don't rush away hungry! Let me cook something for you."

"Well, I don't wish to trouble you . . ."

"It's no trouble, young woman! After all, we have to eat anyway, don't we?"

The young lady thanked the old woman, and before long she, the old woman, and the "girl" all sat down to eat. 

During the meal, the young woman noticed something about the old woman and the child and thought, How odd . . . Neither one seems to know how to use chopsticks . . . They're just picking up the food with their hands and placing it into their mouths . . . 

After dinner, the young woman said, "I can't thank you enough for your kindness and hospitality. I'll go get my duck and be on my way home and not bother you further . . ."

"Oh, young woman! Don't rush away!" said the old woman. "Look how dark it is outside! Spend the night! You can sleep in the same bed as my daughter here."

How nice this old woman has been to me even though we've never met . . .  thought the young lady. Well, truth be told, it was very dark outside, and she wasn't too keen on returning back to the village in the dark. 

She agreed to spend the night. 

"Splendid!" said the old woman. Turning to the little girl, the tiger cub, she said, "Little Sister, show Big Sister to the bed you two shall share tonight!"

The little girl took the young woman to the bedroom as the old woman continued to do more weaving on her loom. 

The young woman had suspicions she couldn't rid her mind of, so as the "child" next to her slept soundly, the young woman felt the little girl's hand. 

She pulled her hand back in shock--the little girl's hand was covered with fur!

She knew now that she was in the conjured house of a shapeshifting tigress. She stifled a cry of horror and gathered her wits about her. This is what she did: She took off her dress and slipped it on the soundly sleeping girl. She then slipped her silver bracelet onto the girl's wrist. She next took her padded cotton jacket, turned it inside out, ripped the lining, exposing the coarse cotton lining, and put it on. She then waited for what would come next. 

It was now midnight. 

Before long, the tigress, no longer in the form of an old woman, having put out the fire in the oven and extinguished the lamplight, crept into the room and climbed up on the bed in the dark bedroom. The young lady was aware of this and pretended to snore loudly. The tigress touched her, felt the cotton, and assumed she had felt tiger fur, thus assuring herself that this was her cub. 

She next approached the side of the bed where her actual cub lay. She touched the dress the cub wore and felt the bracelet on her wrist; all this confirmed to her that the young person lying on the bed before her was the visiting young woman, her evening meal. 

With a mighty bite, she devoured her own cub, which never woke up, and loudly munched on the flesh and bones. 

The young lady just lay there in terror, wondering how she would ever survive this ordeal, but she knew she couldn't panic at this point. She had an idea. She mustered up her courage and asked softly, "Mama, what are you eating?"

"Oh, just some lice and fleas."

"They sound nice and crunchy! Give me some!" said the young lady. 

"No. They're not good for someone your age."

The young lady continued to pretend she was sleeping. After a while, with the old tigress continuing to eat next to her, she asked, "Mama, what are you eating now?"

"Some soybeans."

"Give me some!"

"No, no. If you eat soybeans now, you'll get gas and let go stinky farts." 

"Oh, please, Mama, let me have some too! I want some!"

This continued for a minute or so before the old tigress sighed and said, "Oh, all right! Here! What an annoying pain you are!"

She handed the young woman the remnants of one of the cub's paws. The young woman took the paw and made a big show of noisily pretending to devour it. 

Minutes later, the young woman said, "Mama . . . Mama . . ."

"Oh, what is it now?" asked the old tigress. 

"Mama . . . my tummy hurts . . . I need . . . to . . . poop . . ."

"Oh, I should have known this would happen! Go poop under the bed!"

"But . . . it'll stink . . ."

"Then go poop by the oven!"

"But . . . if Auntie, Uncle, or some visitor comes later and sees what I did. . . that would be . . . embarrassing . . . for us . . ."

"Then go to the corner of the house!"

"But . . . if I poop there . . . I'm afraid . . . a rat . . . might bite my bottom!"

"All right! All right! I'm losing my patience with you. Where do you want to go to poop?"

"The . . . doorway . . ."

"The doorway? You might encounter a bear there! No!"

The young woman thought and thought . . . Then, she remembered something. She felt in the pocket of her jacket. Yes, the long coiled rope she used for tying bundles of grass was still there. 

"Mama! I got it! Here's a rope. Tie one end around my waist, and you can hold onto the other end. In case a bear or something comes towards me, I'll cry out and you can pull me in! What do you think?"

The old tigress grunted her approval and tied the rope around the girl's waist. 

The young woman quickly went outside, untied the rope around her waist, and looked for a place to tether it. She spotted a tall rock. 

"Rock! Rock! Please help me!" she whispered. "Let me tie the rope to you. If the old tigress calls out to you, answer back as I would!"

"Got it! Now hurry up and tie the rope and then get out of here as fast as you can!" replied the rock. 

After fastening the rope to the rock, the young lady fled into the forest. 

Minutes later, the old tigress yelled from the house, "Hey, are you finished with your pooping or not?"

"Not yet!" yelled back the rock. 

Several minutes had passed when the old tigress once again cried out, "Aren't you done yet?"

"No, not yet!" yelled the rock. 

After asking seven or eight more times, the old tigress asked, "What are you doing--pooping gold and silver? What in the world is taking you so long?"

When she heard no reply, she yelled, "All right, then! I'll have to get up and go see!"

She went outside and saw no sign of the person she had assumed was her cub. All she saw was the rope attached to the rock. She dashed back inside her house, lit the lamp, and scoured the interior. She returned to the bedroom, pulled back the heavy quilt, and beheld the remains of her devoured cub.

"Noooo!" she screamed. "I ate the wrong one!" She dashed back out to the forest, shouting and crying, "I should have eaten you as soon as I saw you!"

It was now daybreak when the old tigress arrived at the edge of the river. There, she spied the young woman in a small fishing boat rowing herself to the middle of the river.

"Maiden!" cried the old tigress. "Wait! Wait a moment for me!"

"Just come on over, Granny!" said the young woman. 

"How? How do I 'just come on over'?" 

"Do this, Granny--go and get the rope or a vine or something like that. Tie one end around your neck, and tie the other end to a rock. Toss the rock into the river, and you'll fly right over to me!" 

"All right! Wait!" cried the tigress as she looked for something long and sinewy. Finding a suitable vine, she tied one end to a sturdy rock and the other end around her neck. With a mighty effort, she heaved the heavy rock into the river, launching herself into the river. 

The young woman had nearly made it to the other side when she heard the pudung of a loud splash. She turned her head to see the tigress struggling on the surface of the water. 

"Well, Granny Tiger," said the giggling young woman, "it looks as if your plans to eat me failed today!"

The old tigress merely gurgled a bit and then sank to the depths of the river. 

from

Guizhou minjian gushi 贵州民间故事 [Guizhou Folktales], Yen Bao &  Zhang Xiao, eds. Guizhou Renmin Chubanshe, 1997; pp. 73-77. Miaozu minjian gushi 苗族民間故事 [Hmong Folktales] (See 1/13/09 for complete citation); pp. 330-337.

This tale seems to be a hybrid version of "Grandmother/Grandauntie Tiger" (or "Auntie Wolf," the Chinese version of "Little Red Riding Hood") and "Hansel and Gretel" (due to the magical nature of the house and the predatory cannibal or carnivore that resides within). For other versions of "Grandmother Tiger," see my posting for 6/15/18 and my e-book Taiwan Folktales. 

No parents are mentioned in this story. We might keep in mind the significance of who is and isn't in the picture--whether it is in a child's drawing or a fairy tale.  Here, we just have the young woman, the old tigress, and the ill-fated cub in perhaps an extended metaphor for a young woman's navigating alone through the dangers in this stage of her life. The setting is the forest--a place of magic (sympathetic talking stones) and lurking danger--the place our ancestors were warned to stay away from. We also have yet again the flat and clueless personas of the traditional folktale/fairy tale characters who are unable to draw conclusions or to use common sense, a worldwide characteristic and perhaps a necessary abbreviated component in tales that are to be transmitted across boundaries and cultures.

Motifs: D112.2.1, "Weretiger"; F771, "Extraordinary castle (house)"; F800, "Extraordinary (talking) rocks and stones; G61, "Relative's flesh eaten unwittingly"; J1706.1, "Tiger as stupid beast"; K551.4, "Respite from death until toilet is made permit escape"; K891.3, "Monkey (tigress) tricked into jumping in water and drowning self"; cK1611.5, "Kid puts one of tigress's cubs in his (her) place; she eats cub"; K1810, "Deception by disguise"; K1810.1, "Disguise by putting on clothes of certain person"; K1822.4, "Tiger disguises as human being"; K1868, "Deception by pretending sleep." 

The Snail-Shell Girl--a Hakka version from Taiwan

 There was once a young man named Ah Bata who lived alone with his elderly mother in their cottage. 

One day Ah Bata and seven or eight of his best friends went out to a rather large pond to bathe and just fool around as is the wont of young people. One of the boys found a rather large river snail. 

"Hey," said this fellow, "look at this! Let's break it open."

"Good idea," said another. "Then we can cook it and eat it!"

"No, no," said Ah Bata, "let's not do that. It has a life, so just leave it alone."

The others thought it over and just left the river snail where they had found it. They all then went back home. 

The very next evening, late at night, Ah Bata dreamt a very lovely young lady came to him by his bed and said, "I'm here to chat with you."  And then, in this dream, she stayed by Ah Bata's bedside, keeping him company until the roosters began to crow way in the early hours of the morning. 

This dream continued every night. 

All this seemed so real, yet Ah Bata had to believe it was too good to be true. He found himself unable to think about much else other than the beautiful young woman who came to chat with him all through the night. All this had turned his life so upside down that he was left largely in a daze all day long, and just within a few days he began to look haggard. 

Now, none of this was lost on his mother, who asked, "What's going on with you? You really haven't been yourself for the past few days! Are you ill?"

Ah Bata was a filial son and didn't wish to worry his mother. "It's nothing, Mother!" he said, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. I'm fine!"

His mother knew, though, that there was definitely something wrong with her son, especially since he seemed to be growing thinner and thinner. One day she paid a visit to the home of one of Ah Bata's friends who had gone to the pond with Ah Bata that day. There, she heard from him the story of the river snail. 

The mother put two and two together: She believed her son was under the spell of the spirit of the river snail shell. This young woman was not a figure in a mere dream. This spirit was obviously visiting her son to express her gratitude for Ah Bata's being able to spare her from being harmed. 

She went home and confronted her son. Ah Bata knew he could not trick his mother any longer, and so he admitted that he was visited nightly by some spectral being. 

"All right, all right, my son," said the mother, "here's what you must promise me you will do. I will prepare some food to keep by your bedside. When this woman returns tonight, tell her she must eat some of the food. If she refuses, you must absolutely insist. Do you understand me, Ah Bata?"

"Yes, Mother."

That night, as expected, the young woman returned to Ah Bata's bedside, and Ah Bata in a very friendly and welcoming manner, began to converse with her, which made the young woman all the happier. The more they chatted, the more attracted they felt to each other. 

After a while, Ah Bata said, "I have some food here. Please eat!" He offered her a spoonful. 

"No," she said, "I don't wish to."

"If you don't eat anything," said Ah Bata, "I'm afraid that after this night, we'll no longer be able to be together." 

She looked at him and saw that he was serious. She had no choice but to eat all the prepared food. Then, once the roosters had crowed, she left, apparently displeased. 

However, she was back the next night. 

After four or five evenings in which she was encouraged by Ah Bata to eat, the young woman now began to eat freely without being asked. In fact, she ate more and more each evening. 

It wasn't very long before she returned again one night, an event Ah Bata's mother secretly observed. The mother then quietly and secretly stole away to the very pond where the snail shell had first been discovered. 

Sure enough, there, lying by the pond was a large empty river snail shell. 

She picked the shell up, returned home, and buried it near her cottage. 

Very early the next morning, the spirit woman returned to the pond to reenter her shell--except there was no shell there! She scoured the area and was, of course, unable to find her shell. She gnashed her teeth; there was only one thing left she could do . . . 

That night, the spirit returned to Ah Bata's bedside. 

"Listen, Ah Bata,  I . . . I . . . think . . . starting from tonight, I shall live here . . . and . . . soon wed you so . . . we can live as . . . husband and wife . . . "

"All right!" said Ah Bata. 

Indeed, within a short time, they had married, and the spirit woman lived in the cottage with Ah Bata and his mother.  She proved to be a loving and capable wife who eagerly did her share of the chores. 

Five years later, there were now five little ones running around the cottage. 

One day, while the young wife was out doing chores, the grandmother, Ah Bata's mother, was babysitting the children. They had become very rambunctious, wearing out the grandmother. She thought of something to quiet them down, something that might be so interesting to them that they would regard this object the grandmother would show them with fascinated silence. 

The grandmother ran outside, quickly dug up the river snail shell of her daughter-in-law, and brought it back into the cottage to show the children. She was showing it to the children and explaining to them that it was from this shell their mother had come when their mother herself actually came back from working in the field. 

Mortified that her shell had been hidden and that her identity had been thus revealed to her children, the young mother died right then and there on the spot. 

Brokenhearted Ah Bata carried the body of his beloved wife and her snail shell back to the edge of the pond where he had first seen the shell. There, he buried her and the shell. 

The five children grew up to be fine, filial young adults, and, despite his loss, Ah Bata felt he had been touched by good fortune.

 From

kejiaminjianchuanshuo.pdf  (See the folktale section, pages 1 to 5.)

Hakka people (i.e., "guest families" 客家) are Han people who are a linguistic minority in the provinces where they live in that they speak a dialect of Chinese that is largely mutually unintelligible with their neighbors. They may be the descendants of patriotic families that refused to live under foreign rule when Northern China was ravaged by invading tribes in past centuries. Consequently, their ancestors migrated to areas such as Guangdong and Fujian provinces and, later, Taiwan. Perhaps the most renowned Hakka was Sun Yatsen (Sun Zhongshan), the first president of the Republic of China, a man greatly respected on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. 

For another Hakka tale, see the post for 1/12/17. 

This is yet another tale that shows how a marriage between a mortal and a being from another realm is not likely to survive. For other such tales, see the posts for 3/19/08 (a version of this story from Fujian), 7/8/10, 8/4/17, 11/23/17, and 6/22/18, among others. 

Tale type: 400C, Snail Wife (based on Professor Nai-tung Ting's classification)

Motifs: B650, "Marriage to animal in human form"; C31, "Tabu: offending the supernatural wife"; C31.9, "Tabu: revealing secrets of supernatural wife"; D398, "Transformation: snail to person"; F225, "Fairy (spirit) lives in a shell"; cK1335, "Seduction or wooing by stealing clothes (shell) of bathing girl/swan girl (spirit)"; L161, "Lowly hero marries princess (spirit)"; T111, "Marriage of mortal and supernatural being."

Bus #260--a Taiwanese Version of "The Midnight Bus"

An urban legend has been making the rounds in Taiwan for at least a couple of decades, and it deals with a Highway Bus (公路公車) that appears on Yangde Road (仰德道) at midnight. Yangde Road takes one from Taipei up to Yangmingshan (陽明山), the mountain that looms over the north of Taipei,  and it has been plagued by numerous accidents, including fatalities. It is a scenic road but with lots of twists and turns, both likely factors in causing many of the accidents. This bus is said to be totally dark aboard, though the headlights are reported to be on. 

There is more than one version of this tale. Below are two versions: 

Version One

A young woman had gotten off late from work at some place up on Yangmingshan. To her dismay, she discovered she had apparently missed the last scheduled Highway Bus, number 260,  that was heading back to Taipei. This would be at around midnight. 

Yet, to her amazement, at midnight, from out of the darkness a bus number 260 was driving to the bus stop where she stood. Overjoyed at her luck, she entered the bus from the rear. 

It soon became apparent that there was no one else aboard but the driver and this young woman. The front and rear doors closed, and the bus headed down the mountain towards Taipei. 

The trip was largely uneventful, though the driver would stop at each bus stop along the way, allowing the doors to open for a couple of minutes at a time and then closing despite not one other person's climbing aboard. 

Finally, the bus arrived at the young woman's intended bus stop. She headed to the front to pay her fare. 

She was dumbstruck when the agitated driver turned to her and said in a whisper: "Hey, this bus is not for living passengers like you . . . "

Perplexed, she exited the bus.

Days later, she related the incident to a friend who informed her that the bus she had boarded was one reserved solely for the "good brothers" (好兄弟), the euphemism used for the departed, wandering souls of the dead. 

Her friend added that the very much alive bus drivers on that route all probably received "lucky red packs" of money (紅包) to avoid the inherent dangers that can occur with coming into contact with ghosts while driving bus 260.  

Version Two

A young man attended Wenhua University, which is located on Yangmingshan. He got off from work on the campus late one night and hurried to the bus stop to take bus 260 to return to Taipei. He discovered he had just missed the last scheduled bus 260 for the evening, the midnight bus. 

He was wondering if he'd be able to flag down a taxi at this time of night when, out of nowhere, another bus 260 appeared at the stop. The headlights of the bus were on, but the side and door lights were all turned off for some reason. 

The student was in a hurry to get back to Taipei, so he boarded the bus without worrying too much about the switched-off or faulty lights. Once aboard, he noticed there were also no aisle or ceiling lights on, either. The bus was totally dark inside. 

Another strange detail was that the bus would stop at each stop for two minutes even though no passengers had indicated the desire to get off. When passengers did get on, each one bore a totally expressionless face. Not only that but no one seemed to pay for a fare on the way out or to approach the driver to let him know about an intention to disembark. 

All this was somewhat unnerving, but the university student tried to take all this in stride. It was difficult to remain aboard this bus, however. He began to feel more and more uneasy with each minute and couldn't wait to bolt off the bus. 

Finally, he saw that the bus was approaching his destined bus stop. He went to the front to have his riding pass validated and to let the driver know of his intention to get off the bus. 

The bus driver looked at him in shock and asked, "What do you think you're doing aboard this bus?" When the student explained to the driver how he came to be on the bus, the driver replied, "All right, all right,  but make sure you never ever again ride on this bus!"

The student promised not to and left the bus at his bus stop. 

A couple of days later, he had a conversation with a classmate who told him that that particular bus 260 was only for the restless spirits of the dead. 

from

Yang Haiyan, Xie Yi'an, & Yuan Zongxian. 臺灣都市傳說百科. [Encyclopedia of Taiwanese Urban Legends]. Gaea, 2021; pp. 162-167; 東方有頂天 陽明山的260末班車傳說; 怪談追追追／你聽過黑色260這班幽靈公車嗎？

For other stories about buses and ghosts, see the posts for 8/6/12, 318/18, and 12/16/18. 

My friends Tina and Jill, both having grown up in Taiwan, told me that they had long heard of this urban legend. Tina mentioned to me that the bus drivers who drive the dark buses with ghostly passengers are themselves alive, not ghosts, and received bonuses, the "lucky red packets" of money, to enable them to ward off the bad luck that invariably occurs when one comes into contact with the dead. These packets of money are also given by families of the dead to those who live next door to where a death occurred as a matter of courtesy. Tina and Jill also related that the administrators of the Highway Bus Bureau maintain that the buses drive with the door and side lights off to indicate that these buses are "out of service." It is possible that this urban legend has its origin when a driver driving an out-of-service bus scheduled for maintenance in Taipei saw a young woman at the bus stop near Wenhua University and felt sorry for her, knowing that she had definitely missed the last bus for the evening and that she would be very unlikely to get a taxi that late at night. So, disobeying instructions from his supervisor, he picked her up and allowed her to ride the strangely dark and totally empty bus back to Taipei. She doubtlessly related her story to friends, who then spread the story, and the story picked up exciting details along the way. 

Motifs: E272, "Road-ghosts"; E581.4, "Ghost rides bus." 

The Tale of the Fifth Sister (Hui) Part Two

 So now Selim and Fifth Sister were happily married, and every day for them seemed to be a more joyful day than the one before. 

By and by, First, Second, and Third Sisters each got married; only Fourth Sister, Fifth Sister's twin, remained unwed, largely because she had remained very, very picky and obstinate. However, Fourth Sister was not blind. She observed how Fifth Sister ate well and didn't lack anything and had a wonderful, loving husband for the bargain. She became very regretful that she hadn't agreed to marry Selim. This deep regret and building resentment against Fifth Sister led Fourth Sister to hatch a plan . . . 

On a day when Selim would be busy working in the fields, Fourth Sister went to visit Fifth Sister. Fifth Sister joyfully embraced her jiejie and offered to make some tea. 

"I'm not here for tea, Mei Mei," said Fourth Sister. "I thought it would be fun if I came over here to help you with your laundry!"

"Why, thank you, Jie Jie!" said Fifth Sister. "Let's gather up the clothes and go down to the river!"

And so down to the river they went. 

During a break while washing clothes, Fourth Sister said, "Mei Mei, I wonder which one of us looks a little older. I'm slightly older than you, but I'm also single, while you're a bit younger but already married."

"You might look a bit older, Jie Jie, since your clothes are rather plain and of one color but mine have a flowery pattern," said Fifth Sister. 

"Anyway, I don't believe I look older, but let's do this. We'll fill this bucket with water from the river, exchange clothes, and then see whose reflection looks older." 

"Good idea!" said Fifth Sister. "Let's do that."

They filled the bucket and exchanged clothes.  

As Fifth Sister looked down into the bucket, Fourth Sister came up from behind and pushed her into the flowing river below. 

She then picked up the washed laundry and bucket and headed back to Selim's house.  Selim didn't notice that wearing his wife's clothes was not his wife but instead her twin sister. 

Life went on as before for a while . . . 

Not long after, Selim carried some water back from the same river and told Fourth Sister about a marvelous lotus growing on the banks of the river. He told her how beautiful it was, and so Fourth Sister went to take a look for herself. She came across the lotus at the very spot where she had pushed her sister into the river. 

The lotus, though, was shriveled up and not anything really worth seeing. She wondered why Selim had "deceived" her. 

The next day, Selim returned with more water from the river and told Fourth Sister that the lotus had grown even larger and was more stunning than it had appeared the day before. Well, Fourth Sister could not resist going back to the river to take a look. 

The lotus had shriveled even more than before. Irritated, Fourth Sister pulled the lotus up and took it back home to the outdoor oven and burned it. 

The next morning Selim went to the outdoor oven and discovered a peach pit inside. He tossed it into the yard. Within a few days, a beautiful peach tree had grown in the yard!

Even more miraculous than that, every evening, after Selim and Fourth Sister lay down to sleep, a large, incredibly sweet peach would fly into Selim's mouth, which Selim would then eat. Nothing flew into Fourth Sister's mouth, so she insisted that Selim trade sides with her on the bed, thinking that the peach would fly only to what had been Selim's side of the bed. 

Selim and Fourth Sister traded spaces, and that night Selim still enjoyed the taste of a luscious peach as he lay on the bed. And what, if anything flew into Fourth Sister's mouth? Just an acrid, bitter peach pit! 

So while Selim was away one morning, Fourth Sister chopped the tree down and hacked it to pieces. 

Selim returned and discovered his beloved tree had been chopped down. He gathered up the pieces of wood and deposited them in a corner of the yard. He then stood over the remnants of the tree as tears ran down his face and directly onto the pieces of wood. 

Three days later, the pieces of wood had transformed themselves into a snow lotus! 

Selim was overjoyed but also determined, to Fourth Sister's horror, to guard the snow lotus day and night. 

The snow lotus grew and grew and soon began to take on a definite shape, that of a human body. Finally, it grew into a lovely young woman, Fifth Sister, who was now very much alive. 

Fourth Sister must have witnessed this transformtion from the window of the house, for when Selim, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, turned to look back at the house and call Fourth Sister, he caught a glimpse of her fleeing off into the horizon. 

Fifth Sister recounted how her own sister had pushed her into the river and then brazenly took her place as an impostor. Selim now understood everything. 

In any case, Selim and Fifth Sister were overjoyed to be together again. Later, they went to Hassan's house to inquire about Fourth Sister. She had disappeared, they were told, and, indeed, Fourth Sister was never seen again. 

Selim and Fifth Sister then decided to put the matter with Fourth Sister out of their minds, and they continued to live happily together. 

from

Li Shujiang, ed. 中国回族民间故事集 [A Collection of Chinese Muslim Folktales]. Ningxia Renmin Chubanshe, 1988. Kindle Paperwhite. 

This story is reminiscent of two other tales, "Da Jie" (see 7/4/07) and "The Bride of Sir Gentleman Snake" (see 11/1/11, 11/22/11, and 12/18/11). 

The snow lotus (saussurea involucrata) grows on the Tianshan Mountains in Xinjiang and is used in a number of ways as a medicine. A lotus is a symbol of purity, for it springs forth from dirt and mire but remains untainted by its immediate surroundings, or, in other words, "pure."

The peach is a very important and symbolic fruit in China.  The peach itself is a symbol of long life and immortality and is closely associated with the god of longevity. Images of the god of longevity often depict him holding an enormous peach in either hand. Peach blossoms often serve as a metaphor for marriage, as peach trees have blossoms in the spring. 

The Hui people or, as some of them call themselves, the Han Hui (漢回）are an ethnic minority who practice Sunni Islam. Their distant ancestors were Arab soldiers who fought for a Chinese emperor and/or Arab, Turkish, and Iranian merchants who plied the Silk Road and who intermarried with local Chinese women. The Hui are physically indistinguishable from their majority Han Chinese neighbors; the most obvious differences would be their adherence to Muslim dietary rules and their observance of some non-Han Chinese customs and holidays. They may also have surnames that do not occur among Han Chinese people. Their primary language is Mandarin or whatever the regional dialect (e.g., Cantonese, Hokkien) happens to be. In the past, when there was a lack of literacy among the population, the Hui remained largely literate by being able to write Chinese phonetically in Arabic letters. 

Whenever I read a Hui folktale or legend, I always think back to my USC professor Dr. Henry Hung-Yeh Tiee (1921-2009), a Hui gentleman, who taught Mandarin. He was a very kind and patient man who always looked out for those of us like me who didn't have family nearby or in the States. He was also an excellent teacher and one who was devoted to his religion and who was proud of his Chinese identity. I'll always remember his making time to meet me when he returned to Taiwan in 1976 when I was living there. He certainly had many old acquaintances to look up but still reserved a generous amount of time for me. Many of us, myself included, would say of him, "His life was a blessing; his memory is a treasure."

Motifs: D212.3, "Transformation: woman to lotus"; D610, "Repeated transformation"; K22.12, "Treacherous sister"; K1911, "The false bride"; K1911.2.2., "True bride pushed into water by false bride"; K1911.3, "Reinstatement of true bride"; cK832.1.1, "Victim persuaded to look into well or pond."

The Tale of the Fifth Sister (Hui) Part One

 There once was a poor old woodcutter named Hassan, left widowed with five daughters to raise, with the last two daughters being twins. The two little ones were barely a month old when Hassan's wife passed away. And so Hassan had to be both a father and mother to his girls. And this he did--making sure the girls always had food to eat and clean clothes and shoes to wear. 

There was one other thing about Hassan. He certainly didn't have much in the way of possessions, but he did have an ax with an inlaid silver handle that he absolutely treasured, an heirloom that had been passed down to him. 

It was now eighteen years later after the birth of the twins, and all the girls were now of marriageable age . . . except none was yet married. Each one was as lovely as a peony, yet they all remained single. 

One day Hassan was out doing some work and happened to pass by his neighbor Selim's garden. The garden itself grew on the slope of a cliff. He saw some flowers growing on a branch on the edge of the cliff and decided to pick five flowers, one for each of his girls. 

Leaning over to pick the flowers, though, he dropped his beloved ax down the precipice!

Rather than trespass on Selim's property, Hassan went to the door of Selim's house. 

"Brother Selim! Brother Selim!" shouted Hassan. "My ax has fallen down somewhere into your garden!"

"Hold on a minute," replied Selim. "I'm putting my pants on!"

"Brother Selim!" shouted Hassan a few minutes later. "My ax is somewhere in your garden!"

"Hang on!" replied Selim. "I'm putting on my shoes!"

"Brother Selim!" shouted Hassan a few minutes later. "My ax--"

"Just a moment, please!" said Selim. "Let me wash my face!"

"Brother Selim!" shouted Hassan once again. "My--"

"All right, already! I'm here!" said Selim, opening the door. 

Now, this Selim was much younger than Hassan, and while Selim did possess some property, thanks to his deceased parents, he was nowhere near a wealthy man. Thus, he too remained unwed since he was not considered to be an eligible bachelor for any family that wanted to marry their daughter "up." 

Selim located the ax for Hassan; not only that, he also picked an especially beautiful flower and carefully wrapped it in a cloth. 

"I have your ax," said Selim, "but just one moment, please. Now, Big Brother, please allow me to ask for the hand of one of your daughters in marriage! I've lived too long without a wife, and if you would consent, please consider this flower I wish to hand over to you a dowry!"

Hassan knew that Selim was a decent, straightforward sort of fellow, so he took the flower and accepted the proposal.

Selim exclaimed, "Salaam!" and handed over the ax to Hassan. 

"Salaam!" replied Hassan, thus cementing the deal. 

Hassan returned home and asked First Sister if she would consent to marry Selim. She said nothing and only pouted. 

"That means 'no,'" said Hassan, now turning to Second Sister with the same question. All she did was grimace. 

"All right," said Hassan, who next turned to Third Sister. She just frowned. 

"Hmm . . ." said Hassan. "I know what that means." He asked Fourth Sister, who just glared at him. 

"Very well," sighed Hassan. He waited for Fifth Sister, who was out washing the clothes, to come back in. He assumed she would reject the offer because Selim was a poor man. He was worried because he had already given his consent to Selim and certainly didn't want to renege on the deal. 

Fifth Sister came in and saw the sour expressions on everyone's face. 

"Why is everyone so glum?" she asked. And when Hassan explained how he had made an arrangement for one of the sisters to marry Selim and how her four sisters had turned down the deal, Fifth Sister laughed and said, "Dada! I'll marry Selim!"

"My baby daughter's not afraid to live in poverty?" asked Hassan. 

"Oh, Dada!" said Fifth Sister. "All of us here in this area work hard by living off the land. There's no shame in that! No one here has ever starved to death!"

And so Hassan selected an appropriate Jumu'ah (the weekly day of worship, Friday) for the wedding day. Selim and Fifth Daughter were wed. Since they both were very energetic workers, the marriage got off to a great start as the pair eagerly worked together on their land to make better lives for themselves and to ensure they would have a strong, safe, happy marriage. 

The Legend of the Seven Sisters (Hong Kong)

Note: Please be advised that this legend and its versions are not suitable reading material for children. 

In North Point (北角) on Hong Kong Island, there is a street called the Seven Sisters Street (七姊妹道). The street commemorates seven young women who, as legend has it,  died together many hundreds of years ago near this very area in an act of concerted suicide. 

Version One

It is said that hundreds of years ago in what is now North Point there was a village of some two hundred or so individuals. In this village lived seven young women, all unrelated and of varying ages but bound together by a bond of sisterhood of sticking with each other through thick and thin, no matter what.  

And so they were together every day and became known as "the Seven Sisters." 

Then came the day when the Third Sister's father compelled her to marry a young man through an arranged marriage. It was no use for the Third Sister to refuse or to protest. The night before the wedding ceremony, the Seven Sisters, affirming their sisterhood slogans "We'd rather die than get married" and "We were not born in the same year or month or on the same day, but we choose to die on the same day and month and in the same year," walked hand-in-hand into the water and drowned themselves. 

No traces of their bodies were ever found. However, when the tide later receded, seven stones, arranged in a line from small to large, could be seen in the harbor. Local people came to believe that the Seven Sisters' bodies had been transformed into these stones. 

Version Two

In this version, there is no mention of a pact to die rather than face an arranged marriage. The Seven Sisters did still maintain a bond to live and to die together. Also of importance is the detail that the seven were orphans, which reinforced their dedication to each other. 

One day the area they lived in, the village in today's North Point, was attacked by marauding bandits. The Seven Sisters took up arms to resist the invaders. However, it was a losing fight, and the village was occupied by the bandits. 

The Seven Sisters were now prisoners in what had been their own village. 

The bandit chief made it known that he rather fancied the Seventh Sister for her fighting prowess and would, in three days' time, take her as a trophy bride. 

The Seventh Sister, along with the others in her group, made their decision to escape the village. And so, somehow, they fled from the village, at first eluding the bandits guarding the compound. The Seven Sisters hit the road out of the village that led to the sea, now with the bandits and their enraged chief in hot pursuit. 

They ran and ran with the bandits in relentless pursuit, but soon there was no place left to go since the road ended at the sea. The young women scaled a rock on the edge of the water. "We were not born in the same year or month or on the same day," they defiantly shouted at the thugs chasing them, "but we choose to die on the same day and in the same month and year!" 

With that, they held hands and leaped from the rock into the ocean below, where they drowned. 

Seven days later, their corpses were found floating on the surface of the ocean, still holding each other's hands. By that time, all the bandits were already dead--either by suicide or some other means. 

There is indeed a rock called the Seven Sisters Rock in the harbor. There is also the urban legend that swimming in the area might be treacherous for male swimmers as they might be pulled in by one or all of the Seven Sisters out of anger at men in general or to secure a male companion. 

from

Shi Zhiming & Fan Qicong. 香港都市傳說全攻略 [A complete run-down on Hong Kong urban legends]; Zhonghua Shuju. 2019. Kindle Paperwhite. 

The legend can also be found online: 七姊妹傳說 - Google Search; (20+) 香港都市傳說 Hong Kong Urban Legends - Posts | Facebook; 【東區街道故事】七姊妹道傳說淒慘　寧死不嫁手牽手齊投水自殺？｜香港01｜熱爆話題

The second version is reminiscent of other stories dealing with water ghosts, particularly those that lure swimmers to their deaths. My ebook  Taiwan Folktales: Proverbs, Folk Sayings, and Folktales From Taiwan (Books from Taiwan, 2011) deals with a couple of such stories. The second version might also beg some questions. The story, as Shi Zhiming and Fan Qicong point out, makes no mention of the other villagers once the village was occupied by the bandits. What had been the fate of the villagers? Had some at least escaped? Had they all been massacred or enslaved? And why was an announcement of three days needed? Shi and Fan ask why the bandit leader didn't simply seize the Seventh Sister that same day? These are surely rhetorical questions. These missing details are expendable so as to allow the story to unfold. Old legends have an uncanny way of editing themselves through the centuries. 

Motifs: E642, "Reincarnation as stone"; E711.7, "Soul in stone"; Q200, "Deeds punished"' Q210, "Crimes punished"; Q240, "Sexual sins punished"; Q411.7, "Death as punishment for ravisher"; Q558, "Mysterious death as punishment"; T311.2, "Girl commits suicide rather than marry man she does not love"; cT326, "Suicide to save virginity"; T326.1, "Girls drown themselves to save their virginity"; T326.3, "Martyrdom to preserve virginity."