Читать книгу Soo Thah: A Tale of the Making of the Karen Nation - Alonzo Bunker - Страница 11

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THE Karens are a story-loving people, and their folk-lore is very extensive. When young people meet, their chief amusement is story telling. These stories strongly resemble the folk-lore of different and widely separated races. For example, the story of "The Turtle and the Rabbit," narrated by Uncle Remus, is found among this people almost point for point.

Soo Thah never wearied in hearing Aunt Kaw Do's stories, which seemed numberless. Among them was one that told how the ox stole the original horns of the dog, while the latter was bathing and had laid them aside on the bank; thereby causing the dog evermore to bark at the ox when meeting him. Another told how the bear lost its tail; and another why there are white hairs in a fox's tail.

There was one story about the disobedient daughter, which always made the boy sad. Her mother had forbidden her going into the jungle alone, lest she should be harmed by nats or wild beasts, but she disobeyed. While wandering in the forest, a powerful nat met her and turned her into a little bird. Towards sunset this bird now flies about in tree tops, calling out in the Karen language, "O mother, my mother!" The bird begins this call slowly and repeats it faster and louder till it closes with almost a wail of pleading and distress. This, the Karens believe, is the disobedient girl searching for her mother. Aunt Kaw Do used to point out the bird and bid Soo Thah listen to its call, as a positive proof of the story.

Almost every peculiarity in nature was accounted for in like manner. It was an ignorant Karen indeed, who could not give a reason for anything marked or odd.

But those wonderful fairy stories! How eagerly Soo Thah listened to them! There was one he used to beg his aunt to repeat again and again. It was about the Karen Ceres, or goddess of grain. Her name was Pebeyaw. The tale begins in a real story fashion, thus: The ancients say that there were two orphans, a brother and sister, who were left very poor. At their father's death, he was able to leave them only a four anna piece (equal to about five cents). The neighbours were very selfish, like most heathen people, and left them to struggle on as best they could. They were only able to live from hand to mouth.

After some time, to add to their trials, a famine fell upon the land; and when all food was gone, the villagers planned a trip to a distant town to buy rice. Though they had only a four anna piece, the sister urged her brother Pokray to go with the villagers and buy food. He replied, "What can we get for four annas? It will not buy more than enough for two days."

His sister replied, "It cost our parents much labour and care to rear us, and life, which comes with such difficulty, should not be lightly cast aside. Let us do all we can to save our lives, and, maybe, some good fairy will help us out."

Pokray plucked up courage at these brave words, and took the four anna piece, and set out after the party. He was not suffered, however, to join their company, for he was an orphan, and according to the belief of this people, his presence would bring bad luck to them. Therefore he was obliged to follow them at a distance, or just within sight.

In due time they reached the town, and bought their rice, filling all their baskets. But poor Pokray could buy only a few handfuls, which he tied in a corner of his head-dress, and then followed the rest of the party back towards home.

As the villagers journeyed together, they saw an old woman caught in a creeper in the jungle, beside the path. She was very old, and her hair was white. Seeing them passing, she called out repeatedly, "Do, please unbind me, and set me free!" But the people said one to another, "We can indeed unbind her, but she is old and hungry, and we shall be obliged to take care of her; and so she will eat up our rice. Let us leave her to take care of herself."

Soon Pokray came along with his heavy heart and light load of food; for he saw nothing but starvation before him and his little sister, whom he dearly loved. When the old woman saw him, she called out as before, and he stopped and listened to her. Then he said to himself, "I must die anyway, and what matters it if I die a little sooner by doing a good deed? It will be better thus." So he went and carefully unbound the poor woman, setting her free. Then a marvellous thing happened; for though she looked to be very old, she began to dance and sing like a young girl, very much to Pokray's amazement.

Turning to him she said, "Now hurry on, my grandson, grandmother is very hungry. Get home as quickly as you can and cook me some rice."

At this his heart fell again, for he had not enough rice for one, to say nothing of three. But he dared not disobey. When he reached home, having run a little ahead of the old woman, his sister, who had seen her coming with him, said, "How is this, brother? Why do you bring a stranger to feed, when we have so little for ourselves?"

"Father never turned even a dog from his door," answered Pokray, "and this rice is bought with his money. We will not disgrace his memory; but will follow his example, and when the food is gone, why, if there be no help, we will die in honouring our parents."

Then the old woman came up into the house. As the reader has doubtless surmised, she was a fairy. On entering the house she exclaimed, "Hurry up now and cook grandmother some rice. She is very hungry."

So the little girl hastened to clean the rice of its husks, and then she put all of it into the chattie (an earthen cooking pot) to cook it. When the old woman saw this, she exclaimed, "How extravagant you children are! I don't wonder you have so little to eat. Put only seven kernels into the chattie, and cook them."

"Seven kernels!" exclaimed the girl in great astonishment. "I can cook a chattie of rice, but who can cook only seven kernels?"

"O, you children! You talk too much. Mind your elders!" replied the old woman.

So in fear the girl obeyed, counting out seven kernels of rice, and putting them into the chattie, when another marvel occurred. Pebeyaw took out the seven kernels, as if to count them, and as she put them back one by one, behold they became seven double handfuls, quite enough to fill the chattie; and when cooked, all had a full dinner.

Well, it fell out, the fairy mother became so pleased with the children, that she took up her abode with them, and of course they suffered no more from hunger.

But when the villagers heard of this good fortune which had come to the orphans, they were deeply moved, and said, "We saw the fairy first, and so she belongs to us." Then they chose a committee of the elders to call upon the orphans and present their claim to the fairy by right of original discovery. When they reached the house, however, the fairy mother treated them with scorn, and said, "I belong to those who had pity on me when I was helpless; and I shall remain where I am. You can return to your homes." This they did in great shame.

Then the story goes on to relate how this fairy mother helped Pokray cut a new field for rice of great extent, and how she went out to the field at sowing time, and danced and sang her wonderful song, which caused the rice to come like rain and plant the field; for she was the goddess of rice. The rice flew from the ends of her fingers and from the hems of her garments, as she danced, until the field was fully seeded.

When the crop sprang up, everybody said there never was such a growth of rice in the hills, nor such a harvest as Pokray had. But the village people were far from being pleased. Moved with envy, they got together and planned to steal Pokray's whole crop. Accordingly, having summoned all the surrounding villagers, during a moonlight night they harvested the whole field, and carried it all away, save seven bundles, which were accidentally dropped on their way home.

But Grandmother Pebeyaw was equal to the emergency; for she commanded Pokray to make seven great bins, and put one of the bundles of rice in each. This done, she visited each bin in turn, and began her wonderful dance and song, calling upon the rice to come to its mistress. And lo, all the air was full of rice, coming from the bins of the thieves, and it rained down into Pokray's bins one after another until all were full. Well, in short, Pokray became very rich, and Pebeyaw, as the story goes, returned to heaven to look after her house, saying she was afraid it would be all mussed up by the hens during her absence.

With such stories these wild Karens taught their children that those who honoured their parents would become great and receive their reward.