Filial behavior is the origin of morality and the foundation of the way of justice and integrity.
The sages ruled mankind through their own filial behavior.
Loyal retainers all started out as filial disciples.
Love and gratitude for parents is as deep as the ocean and as lofty as Mount Tai.
A filial son gladdens both parents, and there is nothing a harmonious family together cannot accomplish.
A stern father makes a filial son; a stern mother makes a sharp-witted girl.
A filial child all the years of his/her life holds parents in the highest esteem.
One does not abuse one's own body; one does not shame one's own parents.
Love whatever your parents love; respect whatever they respect.
No sooner does one think of all the wonderful gifts received from one's parents than one begins to evince one's own filial piety.
Taking care of your body is being filial.
To hit a son is to hurt a mother.
As far as behavior goes, nothing is greater than filial piety.
Notes
from Xiaodao, pp. 7-11.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Stories of Filial Children -- Series Three
(1) Meng Zong (Three Kingdoms)
During the period of the Three Kingdoms (220-265 A.D.), there lived a filial young man named Meng Zong. When he was very young, he lost his father. Later, his mother came down with a serious, debilitating illness. Zong's mother now had to depend upon him.
Winter came. With winter came, of course, fewer vegetables. Bamboo shoots, Mrs. Meng's favorite vegetable, were very difficult to find, and, in her weakened state, she began to long desperately for bamboo shoots again in her porridge.
Meng Zong didn't know what to do, where to go to find bamboo shoots. The markets wouldn't have them. He went to the cold, arid bamboo grove and, in desperation, knelt down in the grove, clutched a stalk of bamboo and cried.
Heaven and earth took pity on this young man's frustration, and instantly the earth split open to reveal fresh bamboo shoots for him to pull up and take home, which he did. He then, in the dead of winter, made his mother's porridge with the bamboo shoots she loved so much. He did so again and again. Eventually she made a full recovery.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 62. (See the posting for 4/17/09 for the full citation.)
Unlike most stories of filial children, this one has obvious supernatural elements.
(2) Tan Zi (Zhou Dynasty)
Tan Zi of the Zhou Dynasty (1045-221 B.C.) was a very filial son. He took care of his parents, both of whom had become blind from age and illness. His parents loved milk from deer, and, in order to get deer milk, Tan Zi had to wear the hide of a deer, with his head covered by the deer scalp and antlers. Then, he would approach a herd of the fleet-footed animals, enter into their midst, and then be able to obtain milk.
One day he was out searching for some deer on behalf of his parents, wearing his disguise, when from not far away, a hunter in the tall grass spotted him and assumed Tan Zi was a deer. The hunter deftly took an arrow out and and was about to shoot it at Tan Zi.
"Wait! Wait! Don't shoot!" cried Tan Zi. The startled hunter put his bow and arrow down. "I'm only dressed this way to get deer milk for my parents!"
The astounded hunter then praised Tan Zi for being such a filial son as to don animal skins and antlers and to go out to obtain deer milk.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 46.
(3) Wu Meng (Jin Dynasty)
Wu Meng of the Jin Dynasty (265-420 A.D.) came from a poor family, one so poor that they could not afford a mosquito net. Thus, on hot summer nights, he would study and sleep with his upper torso bared so that the mosquitoes would come and bite him instead of his fully covered father sleeping nearby.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 50.
(4) Pan Zong (Northern & Southern Dynasties)
Pan Zong of Wuxing Wucheng (now Wuxing County, Zhejiang Province) lived during the turbulent Northern and Southern Dynasties (420-589 A.D.). Around the year 422, when the leader of the Wudoumi bandits Sun En had already launched his revolt, Pan Zong and his father Pan Piao were among the refugees fleeing the fighting and carnage.
The two, father and son, were on the road pursued on foot by bandits. Pan Piao could not move any longer and turned to his son. "I'm old!" he said. "I can't move fast enough. You're young and strong. Hurry up and leave me behind! Leave this place! Escape while you can!"
Pan Piao just sat down on the ground and waited for what he believed to be the inevitable. His son, Pan Zong, however, refused to leave his father.
Then, moments later, a pair of bandits caught up with them.
"My father is old!" the boy cried to the bandits. "Please don't kill him!"
One of the bandits stepped forward and deliberately slashed the father with his sword, causing the older man to bleed. Pan Zong immediately shielded his father from the bandit, placing himself in the middle.
The bandit was about to kill them both when his comrade said to him, "What are you doing? That's a filial son protecting his father! How can you kill him? You know killing a filial son invites the wrath of heaven!"
The bandit put then put his sword down and allowed the pair to escape.
Thus did Pan Zong save his father. Both made it to safety and survived.
Centuries later the Song emperor Yuanjia in the fourth year of his reign changed the name of the village Pan Zong had come from to Chunxiaoli, "Pure Filial Hamlet," and exempted its residents from land taxes for three generations.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 48. (Full citation can be found at 4/17/09).
This is story #19 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
(5) Yan Yingyou (Late Yuan Dynasty)
Yan Yingyou of Xianju Hamlet, Jinmen County, Fujian Province, lived in the waning years of the Mongol Yuan dynasty (c. 1350-1368 A.D.), during the rebellions of the Great Sword Society. The upheavals forced young Yan and his mother to flee as refugees. Eventually he and his mother were separated. He then spent the next twenty six years traveling all over China to search for his mother. He ended up finding her in Qingling Ling (in what is now Yao'an County), Yunnan Province. Mother and son were both overjoyed to be reunited. Shortly after, Yan Yingyou took his mother back home to Jinmen, were he continued to treat her with the utmost filial love and respect.
In time, the two-and-a half-decade journey of Yan Yingyou to find his mother inspired many poems throughout the centuries, including this one by Shangguan Minwang:
During the period of the Three Kingdoms (220-265 A.D.), there lived a filial young man named Meng Zong. When he was very young, he lost his father. Later, his mother came down with a serious, debilitating illness. Zong's mother now had to depend upon him.
Winter came. With winter came, of course, fewer vegetables. Bamboo shoots, Mrs. Meng's favorite vegetable, were very difficult to find, and, in her weakened state, she began to long desperately for bamboo shoots again in her porridge.
Meng Zong didn't know what to do, where to go to find bamboo shoots. The markets wouldn't have them. He went to the cold, arid bamboo grove and, in desperation, knelt down in the grove, clutched a stalk of bamboo and cried.
Heaven and earth took pity on this young man's frustration, and instantly the earth split open to reveal fresh bamboo shoots for him to pull up and take home, which he did. He then, in the dead of winter, made his mother's porridge with the bamboo shoots she loved so much. He did so again and again. Eventually she made a full recovery.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 62. (See the posting for 4/17/09 for the full citation.)
Unlike most stories of filial children, this one has obvious supernatural elements.
(2) Tan Zi (Zhou Dynasty)
Tan Zi of the Zhou Dynasty (1045-221 B.C.) was a very filial son. He took care of his parents, both of whom had become blind from age and illness. His parents loved milk from deer, and, in order to get deer milk, Tan Zi had to wear the hide of a deer, with his head covered by the deer scalp and antlers. Then, he would approach a herd of the fleet-footed animals, enter into their midst, and then be able to obtain milk.
One day he was out searching for some deer on behalf of his parents, wearing his disguise, when from not far away, a hunter in the tall grass spotted him and assumed Tan Zi was a deer. The hunter deftly took an arrow out and and was about to shoot it at Tan Zi.
"Wait! Wait! Don't shoot!" cried Tan Zi. The startled hunter put his bow and arrow down. "I'm only dressed this way to get deer milk for my parents!"
The astounded hunter then praised Tan Zi for being such a filial son as to don animal skins and antlers and to go out to obtain deer milk.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 46.
(3) Wu Meng (Jin Dynasty)
Wu Meng of the Jin Dynasty (265-420 A.D.) came from a poor family, one so poor that they could not afford a mosquito net. Thus, on hot summer nights, he would study and sleep with his upper torso bared so that the mosquitoes would come and bite him instead of his fully covered father sleeping nearby.
Notes
from Xiaodao, p. 50.
(4) Pan Zong (Northern & Southern Dynasties)
Pan Zong of Wuxing Wucheng (now Wuxing County, Zhejiang Province) lived during the turbulent Northern and Southern Dynasties (420-589 A.D.). Around the year 422, when the leader of the Wudoumi bandits Sun En had already launched his revolt, Pan Zong and his father Pan Piao were among the refugees fleeing the fighting and carnage.
The two, father and son, were on the road pursued on foot by bandits. Pan Piao could not move any longer and turned to his son. "I'm old!" he said. "I can't move fast enough. You're young and strong. Hurry up and leave me behind! Leave this place! Escape while you can!"
Pan Piao just sat down on the ground and waited for what he believed to be the inevitable. His son, Pan Zong, however, refused to leave his father.
Then, moments later, a pair of bandits caught up with them.
"My father is old!" the boy cried to the bandits. "Please don't kill him!"
One of the bandits stepped forward and deliberately slashed the father with his sword, causing the older man to bleed. Pan Zong immediately shielded his father from the bandit, placing himself in the middle.
The bandit was about to kill them both when his comrade said to him, "What are you doing? That's a filial son protecting his father! How can you kill him? You know killing a filial son invites the wrath of heaven!"
The bandit put then put his sword down and allowed the pair to escape.
Thus did Pan Zong save his father. Both made it to safety and survived.
Centuries later the Song emperor Yuanjia in the fourth year of his reign changed the name of the village Pan Zong had come from to Chunxiaoli, "Pure Filial Hamlet," and exempted its residents from land taxes for three generations.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 48. (Full citation can be found at 4/17/09).
This is story #19 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
(5) Yan Yingyou (Late Yuan Dynasty)
Yan Yingyou of Xianju Hamlet, Jinmen County, Fujian Province, lived in the waning years of the Mongol Yuan dynasty (c. 1350-1368 A.D.), during the rebellions of the Great Sword Society. The upheavals forced young Yan and his mother to flee as refugees. Eventually he and his mother were separated. He then spent the next twenty six years traveling all over China to search for his mother. He ended up finding her in Qingling Ling (in what is now Yao'an County), Yunnan Province. Mother and son were both overjoyed to be reunited. Shortly after, Yan Yingyou took his mother back home to Jinmen, were he continued to treat her with the utmost filial love and respect.
In time, the two-and-a half-decade journey of Yan Yingyou to find his mother inspired many poems throughout the centuries, including this one by Shangguan Minwang:
Yunnan and Fujian
One in the West and one in the East,
Both provinces far apart,
Separated by ten thousand li and a bit more.
The waters of the Wu Gorge in Sichuan,
Surging like arrows,
Guansuo Ridge in Yunnan,
Impassable to horse and wagons.
But look at Yan Yingyou,
Who had many narrow escapes
But shrugged them off,
As he journeyed to rescue his aged mother,
His heart and mind tranquil.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Plunging ahead on a filial path,
While darkness lies before him,
Serving his parent with the utmost dedication,
He is the scholar Yingyou of Jinmen.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 68. This is story #29 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
One in the West and one in the East,
Both provinces far apart,
Separated by ten thousand li and a bit more.
The waters of the Wu Gorge in Sichuan,
Surging like arrows,
Guansuo Ridge in Yunnan,
Impassable to horse and wagons.
But look at Yan Yingyou,
Who had many narrow escapes
But shrugged them off,
As he journeyed to rescue his aged mother,
His heart and mind tranquil.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Plunging ahead on a filial path,
While darkness lies before him,
Serving his parent with the utmost dedication,
He is the scholar Yingyou of Jinmen.
Notes
from Sanshiliuxiao, p. 68. This is story #29 in the Wu Yanhuan edition.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Jindalai -- A New Year's Tale (Korean)
It's long been said that the first flower to bloom in the spring is the jindalai, the purple rhododendron. As much as folks love seeing the first appearance of this flower, they love even more to tell the story of how this flower came to be . . .
Long, long ago, in a mountain hamlet there lived an old couple and their only child, their beloved daughter, Dalai. She was a dutiful daughter who went up into the mountains daily to chop and collect firewood.
Now on the southern slope lived a hardy young man named Jin Yu. He too would go into the mountains to gather firewood, and one day he encountered Dalai. They began to chat and soon became friends. Before long, Jin Yu would help Dalai carry her heavy load of wood down the slippery and treacherous mountain path back to her home. Putting the load down and wiping off his sweat, he'd then smile and leave without saying very much.
Dalai and her parents were very poor, like most of the other folks in the area, and like many others, her family was deeply in debt to the local landowner. It would take more than a couple of lifetimes of repayment for Dalai's family to compensate him! The landowner had a son who for a long time had had his eyes on Dalai. She was very beautiful and could embroider--what a wonderful wife she would make! The son liked very much what he saw and in his heart wanted her for his wife.
And so he decided he would pay Dalai's family a little visit . . .
With his retinue, the landowner's son arrived at the house dressed in his best outfit, waving a silk fan.
Smiling, he said to her parents, "I've come about the back rent and other loans you owe us. Shall we talk?"
The shaken parents quickly ushered him inside and bade him sit as an honored guest.
"I want all the money you owe my family paid up right now," he said.
"But . . . But that's impossible for us!" said the father. "Look around you! You can see we're not wealthy. All we have right now is an abundance of firewood! Surely you can't expect us to pay you right now . . ."
The landowner's son smiled and said nothing for a moment. Then he took out a small silk purse and placed it on the table before the nervous father and mother.
"Well, then, if you can't pay now, I guess you just can't! Here, take the gold and silver inside this purse and buy yourselves a nice meal with it." He then snapped his fingers for one of his servants outside the house. The man entered carrying a big bundle and, at the direction of the landowner's son, placed the bundle upon the floor. "In this parcel," said the son of the landowner, "is the finest silk you shall ever find. Have your Dalai make herself some fine clothes with it."
The landowner or his son had never shown such kindness before, thought both the father and mother. What is going on here? What is all this about? It dawned on them: he wants Dalai.
Dalai and Jin Yu then came in the house.
"What's this?" Dalai asked her parents in front of the landowner's son, pointing with her nose to the bundle upon the floor.
The landowner's son sat and watched eagerly, smiling, hoping for a favorable reaction.
Dalai understood from where the gift had come. Without opening it or waiting for someone to explain what was inside, she picked the parcel up and tossed it out the front door into the dunghill.
Well, the landowner's son was ready to explode! His face turned a beet red, and he struggled to keep his tongue still. However, he controlled himself. He got up, had his man retrieve the package of silk from the dung heap and left.
And so that was that--at least for a couple of days.
A few days later, a messenger from the landowner arrived at Dalai's home. Dalai and her parents were there to receive the message.
"You are to surrender your daughter Dalai to our master within three days' time for the wedding ceremony," he told the parents. Before leaving, he added, "Have her ready on the appointed day and sent to our master; otherwise, our master will be obligated to send a party here and take her by force. Woe unto anyone who interferes!"
Dalai turned to her parents and said, "I'd rather die than marry the son of the landowner! I already love someone who loves me back and who respects me! Jin Yu!"
Dalai's parents were very upset, as was Jin Yu when he had heard the news. Together they went off to collect firewood.
Not sure of what to do, they looked up to the white crane in the sky and asked him where they could go.
"Outside this heaven you can see," replied the crane, "there are nine other heavens. Among them there is no place for you? Come now!"
They next asked the deer the same question.
The deer said, "Within this forest, there is a deeper, lusher, thicker forest. Do you fear within it there is no place for you two? Oh, please!"
That is what we shall do, Jin Yu and Dalai decided. We shall go together to the forest within a forest and then through the nine heavens . . .
Dalai didn't show up at the landowner's house on the appointed day. Instead, the day after the third day, she put on her finest dress, a pink one. Then, hand in hand, Dalai and Jin Yu headed off into the forest.
Hot on their heels and chasing them into the forest were the landowner himself, his son and his men. Within striking distance they were until the rocks, stones and pebbles made them stumble and fall. When they picked themselves up to chase farther, the moss made them slip and fall again. And again they picked themselves up to go after Jin Yu and Dalai, and this time the vines coiled around their ankles, and the thorns and brambles stung them.
When the landowner, his son and his henchmen finally got free, Jin Yu and Dalai were nowhere to be seen.
"Do this then!" shouted the landowner. "Have all available men surround the base of the mountain. Then have men with torches burn the whole mountain right up to its peak! For sure those two will try to escape the inferno, and when they do, we'll grab 'em!"
And that's what the landowner's men did--they torched the whole mountain from bottom to top, knowing that fire travels upwards. Soon the entire mountain was engulfed in flames.
Soon, thought the landowner, any minute now, the pair will come fleeing from the smoke . . .
Soon, thought, the landowner's son, Dalai will be mine . . .
The fire burned and burned and did not die until the mountain was a scorched and all its vegetation burned to smoking crisps.
The landowner, his son and their men waited and waited, but no one came out.
Jin Yu and Dalai were never seen again.
Dalai's father and mother went to the mountain to search for Dalai and the man who was to be her husband, Jin Yu. It was now spring, and though the mountain had been seared by fierce flames, on both sides of the mountain path grew fresh wildflowers. Then, at the peak, the old couple saw two very beautiful blooming flowers facing each other.
"Dalai . . . and . . . Jin Yu . . . " one of the parents said aloud. "There . . . they . . . are! There they are!"
As soon as those words were spoken, the whole mountaintop was bathed in the most aromatic scent the old people had ever encountered.
The story spread far and wide. In time those two flowers became known as jindalai, a combination of the names "Jin Yu" and "Dalai." And so every spring, Jin Yu and Dalai return, though just for a short time, as these flowers.
Notes
from Zhongguo funu chuanshuo gushi, Li Meng, ed., pp. 37-40. (See 2/26/08 for complete citation.)
This is a story linked to the new year of the traditional lunar calendar (i.e., Korean and Chinese New Year).
Another English version of this story is at http://ttt.esperanto-usa.org/en/node1090
This story, collected in Heilongjiang, is well known on the Korean peninsula, its place of origin.
In yet another Chinese-language version, it is Dalai's brother who escapes with her to the forested mountain, where they incite a rebellion against the emperor who would snatch Dalai away from her family. An old man with silver whiskers materializes out from a crevice and offers the pair a magical horse and jeweled sword with which to fight the emperor's forces. In the end, however, due to their carelessness, Dalai is killed and her brother is captured. Their blood stains the mountain slopes upon which later grow the flowers known as jindalai (see "Jindalai" in Zhongguo minjian wenyi cidian, ed. Guan Yanru. Lanzhou: Gansu Renmin chubanshe, p. 188).
Motifs: D212, "Man, woman transformed to flowers"; D457.13, "Blood becomes flowers"; E711.2.2, "Soul in flowers"; T311.1, "Flight of maiden to escape marriage."
Long, long ago, in a mountain hamlet there lived an old couple and their only child, their beloved daughter, Dalai. She was a dutiful daughter who went up into the mountains daily to chop and collect firewood.
Now on the southern slope lived a hardy young man named Jin Yu. He too would go into the mountains to gather firewood, and one day he encountered Dalai. They began to chat and soon became friends. Before long, Jin Yu would help Dalai carry her heavy load of wood down the slippery and treacherous mountain path back to her home. Putting the load down and wiping off his sweat, he'd then smile and leave without saying very much.
Dalai and her parents were very poor, like most of the other folks in the area, and like many others, her family was deeply in debt to the local landowner. It would take more than a couple of lifetimes of repayment for Dalai's family to compensate him! The landowner had a son who for a long time had had his eyes on Dalai. She was very beautiful and could embroider--what a wonderful wife she would make! The son liked very much what he saw and in his heart wanted her for his wife.
And so he decided he would pay Dalai's family a little visit . . .
With his retinue, the landowner's son arrived at the house dressed in his best outfit, waving a silk fan.
Smiling, he said to her parents, "I've come about the back rent and other loans you owe us. Shall we talk?"
The shaken parents quickly ushered him inside and bade him sit as an honored guest.
"I want all the money you owe my family paid up right now," he said.
"But . . . But that's impossible for us!" said the father. "Look around you! You can see we're not wealthy. All we have right now is an abundance of firewood! Surely you can't expect us to pay you right now . . ."
The landowner's son smiled and said nothing for a moment. Then he took out a small silk purse and placed it on the table before the nervous father and mother.
"Well, then, if you can't pay now, I guess you just can't! Here, take the gold and silver inside this purse and buy yourselves a nice meal with it." He then snapped his fingers for one of his servants outside the house. The man entered carrying a big bundle and, at the direction of the landowner's son, placed the bundle upon the floor. "In this parcel," said the son of the landowner, "is the finest silk you shall ever find. Have your Dalai make herself some fine clothes with it."
The landowner or his son had never shown such kindness before, thought both the father and mother. What is going on here? What is all this about? It dawned on them: he wants Dalai.
Dalai and Jin Yu then came in the house.
"What's this?" Dalai asked her parents in front of the landowner's son, pointing with her nose to the bundle upon the floor.
The landowner's son sat and watched eagerly, smiling, hoping for a favorable reaction.
Dalai understood from where the gift had come. Without opening it or waiting for someone to explain what was inside, she picked the parcel up and tossed it out the front door into the dunghill.
Well, the landowner's son was ready to explode! His face turned a beet red, and he struggled to keep his tongue still. However, he controlled himself. He got up, had his man retrieve the package of silk from the dung heap and left.
And so that was that--at least for a couple of days.
A few days later, a messenger from the landowner arrived at Dalai's home. Dalai and her parents were there to receive the message.
"You are to surrender your daughter Dalai to our master within three days' time for the wedding ceremony," he told the parents. Before leaving, he added, "Have her ready on the appointed day and sent to our master; otherwise, our master will be obligated to send a party here and take her by force. Woe unto anyone who interferes!"
Dalai turned to her parents and said, "I'd rather die than marry the son of the landowner! I already love someone who loves me back and who respects me! Jin Yu!"
Dalai's parents were very upset, as was Jin Yu when he had heard the news. Together they went off to collect firewood.
Not sure of what to do, they looked up to the white crane in the sky and asked him where they could go.
"Outside this heaven you can see," replied the crane, "there are nine other heavens. Among them there is no place for you? Come now!"
They next asked the deer the same question.
The deer said, "Within this forest, there is a deeper, lusher, thicker forest. Do you fear within it there is no place for you two? Oh, please!"
That is what we shall do, Jin Yu and Dalai decided. We shall go together to the forest within a forest and then through the nine heavens . . .
Dalai didn't show up at the landowner's house on the appointed day. Instead, the day after the third day, she put on her finest dress, a pink one. Then, hand in hand, Dalai and Jin Yu headed off into the forest.
Hot on their heels and chasing them into the forest were the landowner himself, his son and his men. Within striking distance they were until the rocks, stones and pebbles made them stumble and fall. When they picked themselves up to chase farther, the moss made them slip and fall again. And again they picked themselves up to go after Jin Yu and Dalai, and this time the vines coiled around their ankles, and the thorns and brambles stung them.
When the landowner, his son and his henchmen finally got free, Jin Yu and Dalai were nowhere to be seen.
"Do this then!" shouted the landowner. "Have all available men surround the base of the mountain. Then have men with torches burn the whole mountain right up to its peak! For sure those two will try to escape the inferno, and when they do, we'll grab 'em!"
And that's what the landowner's men did--they torched the whole mountain from bottom to top, knowing that fire travels upwards. Soon the entire mountain was engulfed in flames.
Soon, thought the landowner, any minute now, the pair will come fleeing from the smoke . . .
Soon, thought, the landowner's son, Dalai will be mine . . .
The fire burned and burned and did not die until the mountain was a scorched and all its vegetation burned to smoking crisps.
The landowner, his son and their men waited and waited, but no one came out.
Jin Yu and Dalai were never seen again.
Dalai's father and mother went to the mountain to search for Dalai and the man who was to be her husband, Jin Yu. It was now spring, and though the mountain had been seared by fierce flames, on both sides of the mountain path grew fresh wildflowers. Then, at the peak, the old couple saw two very beautiful blooming flowers facing each other.
"Dalai . . . and . . . Jin Yu . . . " one of the parents said aloud. "There . . . they . . . are! There they are!"
As soon as those words were spoken, the whole mountaintop was bathed in the most aromatic scent the old people had ever encountered.
The story spread far and wide. In time those two flowers became known as jindalai, a combination of the names "Jin Yu" and "Dalai." And so every spring, Jin Yu and Dalai return, though just for a short time, as these flowers.
Notes
from Zhongguo funu chuanshuo gushi, Li Meng, ed., pp. 37-40. (See 2/26/08 for complete citation.)
This is a story linked to the new year of the traditional lunar calendar (i.e., Korean and Chinese New Year).
Another English version of this story is at http://ttt.esperanto-usa.org/en/node1090
This story, collected in Heilongjiang, is well known on the Korean peninsula, its place of origin.
In yet another Chinese-language version, it is Dalai's brother who escapes with her to the forested mountain, where they incite a rebellion against the emperor who would snatch Dalai away from her family. An old man with silver whiskers materializes out from a crevice and offers the pair a magical horse and jeweled sword with which to fight the emperor's forces. In the end, however, due to their carelessness, Dalai is killed and her brother is captured. Their blood stains the mountain slopes upon which later grow the flowers known as jindalai (see "Jindalai" in Zhongguo minjian wenyi cidian, ed. Guan Yanru. Lanzhou: Gansu Renmin chubanshe, p. 188).
Motifs: D212, "Man, woman transformed to flowers"; D457.13, "Blood becomes flowers"; E711.2.2, "Soul in flowers"; T311.1, "Flight of maiden to escape marriage."
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas 2009
To all who visit this website and their loved ones, I wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Cheers & All the best, FHL
Cheers & All the best, FHL
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wisdom From the Heartland -- Proverbs From the Provinces of Hebei, Henan, Hubei & Hunan
Hebei
One can become poor from being wealthy. (For some who are addicted to a lavish lifestyle, their all-too-short period of wealth leads to an even quicker slide into poverty.)
Only one "today"; only one "right now." (It's better for us to take each problem one day at a time; even more importantly, we should focus on the here and now, not the what was here or might not be here.)
For every household, there's one sky once the door's been opened. ("To each his own." Each person's life has its own necessities, problems, reality, and ways of doing things.)
The ingredients for noodles is the same; the kneading is different. (We're basically all the same; it's what we do with our lives that is different.)
A person who is told by another to "drop dead" won't do so unless heaven wills it so. (One's successes or failures are not dictated by the mere wishes of others.)
Those without smiling faces close up shop early. (A prosperous business at least partly depends on a friendly demeanor.)
Reputation is to people what bark is to trees. (Both reputation and bark protect and insulate their respective hosts.)
A person may be poor but not his/her aspirations. (A poverty in funds is least consequential, for a wealth of determination is what enables one to succeed.)
With ten monks come nine accents. ("Too many cooks spoil the broth.")
When one's careful, one can accomplish a hundred things; when one's reckless, even just one inch can be rough going. ("Haste makes waste." Mandarin speakers also say, "With preparations, there won't be any disasters.")
No matter how big the biggest mountain is, it can never crush the sun. (It's easy to be intimidated in a debate. However, if you argue on behalf of righteousness, stand your ground, no matter how bullying or blustering the opposition is, "the truth will out.")
Like a couple of mutes accusing each other of interrupting. (Who knows who started this?)
You lift your head, not lower it, to ask for help. (Those who need the help of other people ought to show a respectful, pleasant demeanor instead of just silently demanding a handout.)
Henan
Even a god won't stand listening to heartfelt words repeated three times. (With even the best intentioned message, if its repeated too much, it goes in one ear and out the other, if resentment doesn't set in first. In other words, don't nag!)
Like one who can give up a thousand sentences but not be able to part with one copper coin. (Said of those who enter a shop, look around, and chat all day but leave without buying anything.)
Pushing a wheelbarrow requires no education; all that is required here is for the gluteus maximus to move. (There are times just to roll up the sleeves and get to work and let good old-fashioned elbow grease get the job done.)
Good people are fooled just as a good horse is ridden. (Here, "fooled" and "ridden" rhyme and are somewhat homophonic. The naive end up, like a docile horse, being manipulated.)
There can be a once or a twice but never a third or a fourth. (An occasional honest mistake can be tolerated but not mistakes over and over, especially the same or similar errors.)
To hear of something a hundred times is not as worthwhile as seeing it once. ("One picture speaks a thousand words.")
To secure the front gate against tigers but to let a wolf in through the back gate. (To be shortsighted, unable to see the big picture, thus doomed to adversity.)
Hubei
In sales, the goods make up thirty percent, while the shopkeeper's facial expression makes up seventy percent. (Similar to the Hebei proverb above; a merchant with a jolly face will always be able to sell his/her products. People tend to patronize a store with friendly, smiling and helpful staff.)
Beautiful flowers are not fragrant, while those that are fragrant are not particularly beautiful. ("Don't judge a book by its cover.")
As long as there's one person around, there is a world. ("Where there's life, there's hope.")
To lead an ox up a tree. (To engage in a foolish, absurd act, or to try to teach an unteachable person a skill. Mandarin speakers also say, "To play a stringed instrument before a cow.")
Not to blame the tether for being too short but rather to blame the well for being too deep. (To play the blame game--to blame everybody and everything, but not oneself, for one's shortcomings.)
If you fall down a well, don't expect your ears to latch onto something. (Said of people who are about to take a big, unwise risk, of those who are foolishly optimistic.)
To be a bandit while it's still in the middle of the day; to try to eat a duck's egg before it's all the way out of the duck's bottom. (Said of the impetuous and rash, those who cannot wait to plan properly and who, instead go off pell mell to do something foolish and doomed to failure.)
When one is lucky, not even the city walls can stop one; when one bears misfortune, even one's can of salt will contain maggots. (Luck and adversity--they are due to one's fate.)
Having a home with an old person living inside is like having a treasure. (Old people are founts of wisdom and experience and enrich the lives of younger people with whom they live.)
Hunan
It takes much clay to build such a big oven. (Big, grand things are also the sums of their parts. "Rome wasn't built in a day," as we say in the West.)
The problem is not if the soil will yield crops but rather if the farmer will till the soil. ("Where there is a will, there's a way." Mother Nature will do her part; the rest is up to us. Perhaps we can also say as an analog to this proverb: "Heaven helps those who help themselves.")
A small stone can break a great tub. ("All it takes is a small spark to burn down a great forest." Sometimes, as it has been said, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall.")
The land needs irrigation just as an infant needs a wet nurse. (There is an order or system required by nature and nothing can change that.)
From time immemorial, crickets and ants have always cherished their own lives. (Life is precious to all living things, not to mention to human beings.)
When the tofu falls into the ashes, you can neither eat it nor wipe it clean. ("That's the way the cookie crumbles." "Don't cry over spilled milk.")
Notes
from Zhongguo rende suhua, Shang Yingshi, ed. (See 6/19/07 for full citation.)
One can become poor from being wealthy. (For some who are addicted to a lavish lifestyle, their all-too-short period of wealth leads to an even quicker slide into poverty.)
Only one "today"; only one "right now." (It's better for us to take each problem one day at a time; even more importantly, we should focus on the here and now, not the what was here or might not be here.)
For every household, there's one sky once the door's been opened. ("To each his own." Each person's life has its own necessities, problems, reality, and ways of doing things.)
The ingredients for noodles is the same; the kneading is different. (We're basically all the same; it's what we do with our lives that is different.)
A person who is told by another to "drop dead" won't do so unless heaven wills it so. (One's successes or failures are not dictated by the mere wishes of others.)
Those without smiling faces close up shop early. (A prosperous business at least partly depends on a friendly demeanor.)
Reputation is to people what bark is to trees. (Both reputation and bark protect and insulate their respective hosts.)
A person may be poor but not his/her aspirations. (A poverty in funds is least consequential, for a wealth of determination is what enables one to succeed.)
With ten monks come nine accents. ("Too many cooks spoil the broth.")
When one's careful, one can accomplish a hundred things; when one's reckless, even just one inch can be rough going. ("Haste makes waste." Mandarin speakers also say, "With preparations, there won't be any disasters.")
No matter how big the biggest mountain is, it can never crush the sun. (It's easy to be intimidated in a debate. However, if you argue on behalf of righteousness, stand your ground, no matter how bullying or blustering the opposition is, "the truth will out.")
Like a couple of mutes accusing each other of interrupting. (Who knows who started this?)
You lift your head, not lower it, to ask for help. (Those who need the help of other people ought to show a respectful, pleasant demeanor instead of just silently demanding a handout.)
Henan
Even a god won't stand listening to heartfelt words repeated three times. (With even the best intentioned message, if its repeated too much, it goes in one ear and out the other, if resentment doesn't set in first. In other words, don't nag!)
Like one who can give up a thousand sentences but not be able to part with one copper coin. (Said of those who enter a shop, look around, and chat all day but leave without buying anything.)
Pushing a wheelbarrow requires no education; all that is required here is for the gluteus maximus to move. (There are times just to roll up the sleeves and get to work and let good old-fashioned elbow grease get the job done.)
Good people are fooled just as a good horse is ridden. (Here, "fooled" and "ridden" rhyme and are somewhat homophonic. The naive end up, like a docile horse, being manipulated.)
There can be a once or a twice but never a third or a fourth. (An occasional honest mistake can be tolerated but not mistakes over and over, especially the same or similar errors.)
To hear of something a hundred times is not as worthwhile as seeing it once. ("One picture speaks a thousand words.")
To secure the front gate against tigers but to let a wolf in through the back gate. (To be shortsighted, unable to see the big picture, thus doomed to adversity.)
Hubei
In sales, the goods make up thirty percent, while the shopkeeper's facial expression makes up seventy percent. (Similar to the Hebei proverb above; a merchant with a jolly face will always be able to sell his/her products. People tend to patronize a store with friendly, smiling and helpful staff.)
Beautiful flowers are not fragrant, while those that are fragrant are not particularly beautiful. ("Don't judge a book by its cover.")
As long as there's one person around, there is a world. ("Where there's life, there's hope.")
To lead an ox up a tree. (To engage in a foolish, absurd act, or to try to teach an unteachable person a skill. Mandarin speakers also say, "To play a stringed instrument before a cow.")
Not to blame the tether for being too short but rather to blame the well for being too deep. (To play the blame game--to blame everybody and everything, but not oneself, for one's shortcomings.)
If you fall down a well, don't expect your ears to latch onto something. (Said of people who are about to take a big, unwise risk, of those who are foolishly optimistic.)
To be a bandit while it's still in the middle of the day; to try to eat a duck's egg before it's all the way out of the duck's bottom. (Said of the impetuous and rash, those who cannot wait to plan properly and who, instead go off pell mell to do something foolish and doomed to failure.)
When one is lucky, not even the city walls can stop one; when one bears misfortune, even one's can of salt will contain maggots. (Luck and adversity--they are due to one's fate.)
Having a home with an old person living inside is like having a treasure. (Old people are founts of wisdom and experience and enrich the lives of younger people with whom they live.)
Hunan
It takes much clay to build such a big oven. (Big, grand things are also the sums of their parts. "Rome wasn't built in a day," as we say in the West.)
The problem is not if the soil will yield crops but rather if the farmer will till the soil. ("Where there is a will, there's a way." Mother Nature will do her part; the rest is up to us. Perhaps we can also say as an analog to this proverb: "Heaven helps those who help themselves.")
A small stone can break a great tub. ("All it takes is a small spark to burn down a great forest." Sometimes, as it has been said, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall.")
The land needs irrigation just as an infant needs a wet nurse. (There is an order or system required by nature and nothing can change that.)
From time immemorial, crickets and ants have always cherished their own lives. (Life is precious to all living things, not to mention to human beings.)
When the tofu falls into the ashes, you can neither eat it nor wipe it clean. ("That's the way the cookie crumbles." "Don't cry over spilled milk.")
Notes
from Zhongguo rende suhua, Shang Yingshi, ed. (See 6/19/07 for full citation.)
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Demoness (Hmong)
Long ago Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang lived deep in the mountains, where they spent many hours and much sweat to make something out of their farm. They also raised pigs, which brought in more money.
A roaming demoness came by their farm and noticed the many pigs in the secure wooden pen by the Fuxiang home.
She wanted those pigs, but breaking down the sturdy logs of the pen would be far from easy. So, she did this: she went back down the mountain to the abandoned campsite of some shepherds, took some dry grass, thrust it in the dying embers of the fire in which they had been roasting yams, blew her breath upon it to make the fire grow, and then took the slowly growing torch with her back up the mountain to the farm. There, waiting for the west wind, she stuck the torch into a crack and set the pen wall on fire.
The fire burned and burned well!
Now the Fuxiangs had been out in the field, but from far away they could see a column of smoke and heard the squeals of their pigs. They rushed back as fast as their legs could carry them.
The demoness was long gone.
Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang put out the fire soon enough; however, there was now a large hole in the wall of pen, and the canopy over the pen had been burned to charcoal.
That night, the farmer and his wife, each holding a club, stood watch in the pen over their pigs.
They stood all night, watching and waiting for anyone or anything that might try to come in.
"Ai," said Farmer Fuxiang, "this is no way to protect our pigs! In the morning, I'm going to find a carpenter who can repair this hole and build a new canopy!"
"Well, I guess you'd better," said his wife. "You know these mountains are full of tigers and demons, and they'd like nothing better than to devour all our pigs."
The demoness herself was hiding in the bushes and heard what the husband and wife had just said. She smiled. She had a plan.
After daybreak, the demoness turned herself into a man and put on workman's clothes. She also picked up a saw and ax and headed out of the bushes.
The demoness came up the road just as Farmer Fuxiang was coming down it.
"I'm a carpenter at your service," the demoness said to the startled farmer. "Let me guess--you have a pen in need of repair!"
"Why . . . yes . . ."
"Well, then, you'd better take me to see it! Can't let it wait too long, you know, with all these tigers and demons roaming about."
The farmer stared at this "carpenter."
"Now isn't that odd?" asked Farmer Fuxiang.
"What? What's that?"
"Well, now," continued the farmer, "I don't mean to be rude. It's just that you're a grown, mature man without the slightest trace of facial hair! Not only that, but you have a woman's voice. Are you . . . are you a man or a woman pretending to be a carpenter?"
The demoness knew she'd revealed herself, so, without saying another word, she turned and fled back into the forest.
I fouled up that chance! the demoness said to herself, as she fled farther into the forest. That's all right, though. I'll try again, next time with the wife!
Once again, the demoness set out to transform herself. This time she pulled off the leaves and branches of some trees and rubbed the dripping resin onto her face to affect the look of one who works with wood. Next, she swallowed some grains of charcoal to give her voice a grainy, scratchy quality. Still carrying her ax and saw, she also pulled up some grapevines and headed for the Fuxiang farm.
Mrs. Fuxiang was outside her home.
"Good woman!" cried the demoness. "Have some grapes?"
Mrs. Fuxiang looked up at the stranger speaking to her. "Thank . . . you . . . " she said.
"I'm a carpenter, and I can fix that pigpen of yours!"
"Oh?"
"Yes, and what's more, I won't charge you a cent."
"Why, thank you! Please step on over to the pen!" Can it be true, thought Mrs. Fuxiang, that I have found such a wonderful carpenter, one who will even fix the pen for free?
Farmer Fuxiang showed up and joined them.
"This carpenter is willing to fix the wall of the pen for free!" Mrs. Fuxiang told her husband.
On their way over to the pen, Farmer Fuxiang took a good look at the "carpenter."
"Hmm, now isn't that a bit strange!" said the farmer.
"What? What's strange?"
"Your face is rather green."
"Oh, that," replied the demoness. "Last night I had too much wine and fell asleep in a dyeing vat. What's so strange about that?"
"And your ears--I just noticed them. They're pierced, like a lady's!"
"Oh, my ears! When I was small, I was once very sick. My mother prayed night and day at the earth god's shrine and was told to pierce my ears!"
"I see," said the farmer. "Why do you wish to repair my pen for free?"
"That's the way I am, I guess," replied the "carpenter," "full of heart! I like helping people whenever I can."
Mrs. Fuxiang leaned next to her husband and whispered into his ear. "Stop questioning him! He's already offered to help us for free. How rude can you be?"
Farmer Fuxiang deferred to his wife.
"Forgive my poor manners!" said the farmer. "Please go ahead and fix the wall of the pen."
They left the demoness alone to do the promised repairs. After several days of chopping and sawing, the hole in the pen wall was repaired. What's more, a new canopy protected the pigs from above.
"There you are!" said the demoness, still in her "carpenter" disguise. "Your pigs are now snug and safe! No tiger or demon or demoness could possibly get in there now!"
The Fuxiangs thanked the "carpenter," and "he" was on his way.
The next morning, out in the pen, Farmer Fuxiang noted that one pig seemed to be missing. He counted the pigs over and over again; sure enough, a pig was missing. He looked around the pen. Could it have gotten out somehow? No. The walls of the pigpen were tight, secure.
Oh, well, he thought, scratching his head.
Then, the next day and the next day after that, he noticed more pigs were missing, one for each day since the pen had been repaired.
The farmer and his wife looked at each other and had the same thought: the mountain god. Yes, they thought, the mountain god was taking their pigs. So, the farm couple raced over to the local mountain god shrine and prayed to the god not to take their pigs.
"Please spare us!" they prayed. "We need those pigs to sell to market!"
Not much happened after that, to their relief. Then, late one night about a month later, both husband and wife were awakened by the squeals of pigs.
The farmer tiptoed out the house and peered through a tiny opening. Inside the pen was the "carpenter"!
Aha, it was that impostor all along, thought the farmer.
Before the farmer could say or do a thing, the demoness, her feet like wings, had jumped or, more correctly, flown out of the pen with a pig under her arm.
The farmer told his wife. "You can now see why she didn't have a beard!" he said.
"What a fool I was! You were right to suspect her!" she said, slapping herself in the head.
The next day, the couple inspected the pen wall more carefully. They were not surprised to find a hidden door that permitted entry into the pen. With such a door, the demoness could enter fairly quietly. She could, if need be, make a sudden escape by leaping clear over the wall.
By sundown, the husband and wife were ready for the demoness's next visit. They both waited in the pen, the husband on one side of the door, the wife on the other. Both clutched sickles. There, they quietly waited and waited and waited . . .
Deep in the darkest part of that night, the demoness decided to make a return visit and steal yet another pig.
She crept up to the cleverly disguised secret door she herself had installed, oh so quietly opened it and gingerly stepped into the pigpen, unaware that just beyond the door stood the very angry Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang.
Ah, the demoness thought to herself, the coast is clear yet again!
She then stuck her head and neck just a bit beyond the doorway when . . .
Whup! Whup!
The husband and wife cut her head off!
From that day on, Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang never lost a pig again.
Notes
from Minhua ji, pp. 60-65. (Complete citation can be found on 1/13/09.)
Two other Hmong tales can be found at the postings for 1/13/09 and 2/12/09.
A hallmark of Indo-European folktales--characters being totally clueless--can be found in this story with the husband and wife not truly realizing the malevolent nature of the "carpenter" until the very end, after the trickster had had unfettered access to their pigpen. The original version in Chinese has the wife happily accepting grapes from the trickster, and both husband and wife are initially oblivious to a demoness in disguise. (Of course we're not supposed to recognize Superman is really Clark Kent without the hornrimmed glasses.)
The original version does not explain the relationship with a male child's having an illness, the parent's subsequent visit to the local earth god's shrine, and then having the child's ears pierced.
Motifs: F1071.2.1, "Enormous leap"; K521.2.5, "Disguise as a carpenter"; K1810, "Deception by disguise"; and K1832, "Disguise by changing voice."
A roaming demoness came by their farm and noticed the many pigs in the secure wooden pen by the Fuxiang home.
She wanted those pigs, but breaking down the sturdy logs of the pen would be far from easy. So, she did this: she went back down the mountain to the abandoned campsite of some shepherds, took some dry grass, thrust it in the dying embers of the fire in which they had been roasting yams, blew her breath upon it to make the fire grow, and then took the slowly growing torch with her back up the mountain to the farm. There, waiting for the west wind, she stuck the torch into a crack and set the pen wall on fire.
The fire burned and burned well!
Now the Fuxiangs had been out in the field, but from far away they could see a column of smoke and heard the squeals of their pigs. They rushed back as fast as their legs could carry them.
The demoness was long gone.
Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang put out the fire soon enough; however, there was now a large hole in the wall of pen, and the canopy over the pen had been burned to charcoal.
That night, the farmer and his wife, each holding a club, stood watch in the pen over their pigs.
They stood all night, watching and waiting for anyone or anything that might try to come in.
"Ai," said Farmer Fuxiang, "this is no way to protect our pigs! In the morning, I'm going to find a carpenter who can repair this hole and build a new canopy!"
"Well, I guess you'd better," said his wife. "You know these mountains are full of tigers and demons, and they'd like nothing better than to devour all our pigs."
The demoness herself was hiding in the bushes and heard what the husband and wife had just said. She smiled. She had a plan.
After daybreak, the demoness turned herself into a man and put on workman's clothes. She also picked up a saw and ax and headed out of the bushes.
The demoness came up the road just as Farmer Fuxiang was coming down it.
"I'm a carpenter at your service," the demoness said to the startled farmer. "Let me guess--you have a pen in need of repair!"
"Why . . . yes . . ."
"Well, then, you'd better take me to see it! Can't let it wait too long, you know, with all these tigers and demons roaming about."
The farmer stared at this "carpenter."
"Now isn't that odd?" asked Farmer Fuxiang.
"What? What's that?"
"Well, now," continued the farmer, "I don't mean to be rude. It's just that you're a grown, mature man without the slightest trace of facial hair! Not only that, but you have a woman's voice. Are you . . . are you a man or a woman pretending to be a carpenter?"
The demoness knew she'd revealed herself, so, without saying another word, she turned and fled back into the forest.
I fouled up that chance! the demoness said to herself, as she fled farther into the forest. That's all right, though. I'll try again, next time with the wife!
Once again, the demoness set out to transform herself. This time she pulled off the leaves and branches of some trees and rubbed the dripping resin onto her face to affect the look of one who works with wood. Next, she swallowed some grains of charcoal to give her voice a grainy, scratchy quality. Still carrying her ax and saw, she also pulled up some grapevines and headed for the Fuxiang farm.
Mrs. Fuxiang was outside her home.
"Good woman!" cried the demoness. "Have some grapes?"
Mrs. Fuxiang looked up at the stranger speaking to her. "Thank . . . you . . . " she said.
"I'm a carpenter, and I can fix that pigpen of yours!"
"Oh?"
"Yes, and what's more, I won't charge you a cent."
"Why, thank you! Please step on over to the pen!" Can it be true, thought Mrs. Fuxiang, that I have found such a wonderful carpenter, one who will even fix the pen for free?
Farmer Fuxiang showed up and joined them.
"This carpenter is willing to fix the wall of the pen for free!" Mrs. Fuxiang told her husband.
On their way over to the pen, Farmer Fuxiang took a good look at the "carpenter."
"Hmm, now isn't that a bit strange!" said the farmer.
"What? What's strange?"
"Your face is rather green."
"Oh, that," replied the demoness. "Last night I had too much wine and fell asleep in a dyeing vat. What's so strange about that?"
"And your ears--I just noticed them. They're pierced, like a lady's!"
"Oh, my ears! When I was small, I was once very sick. My mother prayed night and day at the earth god's shrine and was told to pierce my ears!"
"I see," said the farmer. "Why do you wish to repair my pen for free?"
"That's the way I am, I guess," replied the "carpenter," "full of heart! I like helping people whenever I can."
Mrs. Fuxiang leaned next to her husband and whispered into his ear. "Stop questioning him! He's already offered to help us for free. How rude can you be?"
Farmer Fuxiang deferred to his wife.
"Forgive my poor manners!" said the farmer. "Please go ahead and fix the wall of the pen."
They left the demoness alone to do the promised repairs. After several days of chopping and sawing, the hole in the pen wall was repaired. What's more, a new canopy protected the pigs from above.
"There you are!" said the demoness, still in her "carpenter" disguise. "Your pigs are now snug and safe! No tiger or demon or demoness could possibly get in there now!"
The Fuxiangs thanked the "carpenter," and "he" was on his way.
The next morning, out in the pen, Farmer Fuxiang noted that one pig seemed to be missing. He counted the pigs over and over again; sure enough, a pig was missing. He looked around the pen. Could it have gotten out somehow? No. The walls of the pigpen were tight, secure.
Oh, well, he thought, scratching his head.
Then, the next day and the next day after that, he noticed more pigs were missing, one for each day since the pen had been repaired.
The farmer and his wife looked at each other and had the same thought: the mountain god. Yes, they thought, the mountain god was taking their pigs. So, the farm couple raced over to the local mountain god shrine and prayed to the god not to take their pigs.
"Please spare us!" they prayed. "We need those pigs to sell to market!"
Not much happened after that, to their relief. Then, late one night about a month later, both husband and wife were awakened by the squeals of pigs.
The farmer tiptoed out the house and peered through a tiny opening. Inside the pen was the "carpenter"!
Aha, it was that impostor all along, thought the farmer.
Before the farmer could say or do a thing, the demoness, her feet like wings, had jumped or, more correctly, flown out of the pen with a pig under her arm.
The farmer told his wife. "You can now see why she didn't have a beard!" he said.
"What a fool I was! You were right to suspect her!" she said, slapping herself in the head.
The next day, the couple inspected the pen wall more carefully. They were not surprised to find a hidden door that permitted entry into the pen. With such a door, the demoness could enter fairly quietly. She could, if need be, make a sudden escape by leaping clear over the wall.
By sundown, the husband and wife were ready for the demoness's next visit. They both waited in the pen, the husband on one side of the door, the wife on the other. Both clutched sickles. There, they quietly waited and waited and waited . . .
Deep in the darkest part of that night, the demoness decided to make a return visit and steal yet another pig.
She crept up to the cleverly disguised secret door she herself had installed, oh so quietly opened it and gingerly stepped into the pigpen, unaware that just beyond the door stood the very angry Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang.
Ah, the demoness thought to herself, the coast is clear yet again!
She then stuck her head and neck just a bit beyond the doorway when . . .
Whup! Whup!
The husband and wife cut her head off!
From that day on, Farmer and Mrs. Fuxiang never lost a pig again.
Notes
from Minhua ji, pp. 60-65. (Complete citation can be found on 1/13/09.)
Two other Hmong tales can be found at the postings for 1/13/09 and 2/12/09.
A hallmark of Indo-European folktales--characters being totally clueless--can be found in this story with the husband and wife not truly realizing the malevolent nature of the "carpenter" until the very end, after the trickster had had unfettered access to their pigpen. The original version in Chinese has the wife happily accepting grapes from the trickster, and both husband and wife are initially oblivious to a demoness in disguise. (Of course we're not supposed to recognize Superman is really Clark Kent without the hornrimmed glasses.)
The original version does not explain the relationship with a male child's having an illness, the parent's subsequent visit to the local earth god's shrine, and then having the child's ears pierced.
Motifs: F1071.2.1, "Enormous leap"; K521.2.5, "Disguise as a carpenter"; K1810, "Deception by disguise"; and K1832, "Disguise by changing voice."
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Northern Chinese Proverbs & Folk Sayings
Those who wish to be wealthy, wear clothing of rough cloth; those who are destined to be poor wear expensive silks. (from Shandong. People who scrimp and save and who deny themselves the finest things in life while working hard shall end up being rich, while those who love to splurge will end up in the poor house.)
Those who live south of the river think everything north of the river is great; those who suffer from leprosy or dysentery think ulcers are great. (from Northeastern China. "The grass is always greener on the other side," some say. Perspective is everything.)
Thirty percent is the medicine; seventy percent is the recuperation. (from Shandong. Medicine alone can't do it all; the lion's share depends on rest and positive attitude.)
Like a camel surprised to see a horse's heavy load. (from Beijing. Mocking bumpkins who are easily amazed by everyday sights.)
Like one who, without pants on, chases a thief out the door--there is a time to be valiant but also a time to recognize shame. (from Shandong. Said of those who act on impulse and who never take consequences into consideration.)
Like a child flying a kite in the forest--an entanglement is sure to come. (from Beijing. Said of outcomes that are far from certain.)
Like a headless fly, flying into things. (from Beijing. Said of people who end up making themselves busier in various matters due to their not planning earlier; for things, events to become hectic due to poor or no planning. To go around "like a chicken with its head cut off.")
Trying to borrow a pig from a tiger. (from Shandong. To engage in an impossible, pointless activity. Mandarin speakers also say, "To look up a tree for a fish.")
When one carries poison in the heart, ghosts soon knock on the door. (from Shandong. The end result of living a life of sin is not pleasant.)
A blind person singing the praises of flowers in bloom. (from Northeastern China. A somewhat convoluted and contrary way of mocking a person who pretends for one reason or another not to know about something. "Out of sight, out of mind.")
A tile shard can still be used as a table leg pad. (from Shandong. Everything under the sun has a purpose, a value; nothing is totally useless.)
Like a dog's tail that's been in a bottle--it's both stinky and slimy. (from Beijing. Said of people who seem disreputable, who "give off bad vibes.")
In times of plenty, belongings are counted; in times of need, they are gone and missed. (from Shandong. What a difference an unfortunate season can make!)
Like the chicken that doesn't urinate everywhere but rather saves up its one big dropping for a particular moment. (from Beijing. Said of those who don't exhibit much promise but surprise us all later with their talents and accomplishments.)
Like a married couple quarreling--don't make anything out of it. (from Shandong. Describing any temporary difficulty that will almost always resolve itself, something that requires no panicking.)
Like a cobbler who doesn't even have a workbench; like a sorcerer who has ghosts singing at the front gate. (from Northeastern China. Said of those who are too busy in their work to see to the necessities in their own lives, just as we might remark about gardeners who allow weeds to appear in their own yards, or the carpenter not having a coffin of his own.)
Notes
from Shang Yingshi, ed. Zhongguorende suhua. (See 6/9/07 for full citation.)
Those who live south of the river think everything north of the river is great; those who suffer from leprosy or dysentery think ulcers are great. (from Northeastern China. "The grass is always greener on the other side," some say. Perspective is everything.)
Thirty percent is the medicine; seventy percent is the recuperation. (from Shandong. Medicine alone can't do it all; the lion's share depends on rest and positive attitude.)
Like a camel surprised to see a horse's heavy load. (from Beijing. Mocking bumpkins who are easily amazed by everyday sights.)
Like one who, without pants on, chases a thief out the door--there is a time to be valiant but also a time to recognize shame. (from Shandong. Said of those who act on impulse and who never take consequences into consideration.)
Like a child flying a kite in the forest--an entanglement is sure to come. (from Beijing. Said of outcomes that are far from certain.)
Like a headless fly, flying into things. (from Beijing. Said of people who end up making themselves busier in various matters due to their not planning earlier; for things, events to become hectic due to poor or no planning. To go around "like a chicken with its head cut off.")
Trying to borrow a pig from a tiger. (from Shandong. To engage in an impossible, pointless activity. Mandarin speakers also say, "To look up a tree for a fish.")
When one carries poison in the heart, ghosts soon knock on the door. (from Shandong. The end result of living a life of sin is not pleasant.)
A blind person singing the praises of flowers in bloom. (from Northeastern China. A somewhat convoluted and contrary way of mocking a person who pretends for one reason or another not to know about something. "Out of sight, out of mind.")
A tile shard can still be used as a table leg pad. (from Shandong. Everything under the sun has a purpose, a value; nothing is totally useless.)
Like a dog's tail that's been in a bottle--it's both stinky and slimy. (from Beijing. Said of people who seem disreputable, who "give off bad vibes.")
In times of plenty, belongings are counted; in times of need, they are gone and missed. (from Shandong. What a difference an unfortunate season can make!)
Like the chicken that doesn't urinate everywhere but rather saves up its one big dropping for a particular moment. (from Beijing. Said of those who don't exhibit much promise but surprise us all later with their talents and accomplishments.)
Like a married couple quarreling--don't make anything out of it. (from Shandong. Describing any temporary difficulty that will almost always resolve itself, something that requires no panicking.)
Like a cobbler who doesn't even have a workbench; like a sorcerer who has ghosts singing at the front gate. (from Northeastern China. Said of those who are too busy in their work to see to the necessities in their own lives, just as we might remark about gardeners who allow weeds to appear in their own yards, or the carpenter not having a coffin of his own.)
Notes
from Shang Yingshi, ed. Zhongguorende suhua. (See 6/9/07 for full citation.)
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