How to Fool a Cat
Page 9
One day, Jisama thought, “I don’t think it’s worth living any more. All my life, I couldn’t do anything meaningful. At least I want to die meaningfully. Yes, I should be eaten by a wolf. I can be his food.”
He went into the mountains and waited for a wolf. When one came out, he thought, “Oh, good. Finally I can die, eaten by that wolf.” He laid himself in front of the wolf and waited.
But the wolf said, “I can’t eat you. A wolf can’t eat a human.”
“Then what do you eat?” asked Jisama.
“I only eat animals,” was the reply.
“But I heard Gonbei Jisama in the next village, Oito Basama in the mountain cove, and Osayo Basama in my village were all eaten by wolves. So you do eat humans, don’t you?” asked Jisama.
“No, I don’t eat humans. Those I ate were animals with human skins. My eyebrow hairs have special power. When I look through them, I can see which person is a true human, which one is really a bear, and which one is a monkey. I will give you one of my hairs. Look at the people with it.”
The wolf gave Jisama one of his eyebrow hairs. Jisama felt like he was fooled. But he went back to his village with the hair.
Every time he saw somebody, he held the hair in front of his eye and looked at the person.
“Well, how about that greedy Jisama?” He saw that he was really a monkey.
Next, he saw a Basama. “What is she?” He looked at her and found she was a duck.
“What is that Jisama?” He looked at him and found he was a cat.
He saw people one after another, and they were a dog, a snake, a frog, and such. They were all animals with human skins.
So you see? A real human is quite rare.
Oshimai
CREEPY TALES
COMMENT FROM FUJITA-SAN: Children love scary stories, and when I ask them, “What kind of story do you want to hear?” they almost always answer, “Scary stories!” But I don’t like to tell a truly scary story to very small children or to children I have just met. In such situations, I tell “Adzuki Beans” if they demand something scary. It ends with laughter, not scaring them too much. “What?! It wasn’t scary at all!” they say, but still, I can see that they enjoyed the story.
When children ask for scary stories, they aren’t wanting to be really scared. Rather, they want to enjoy feeling scared. That’s why they love to hear safe-scary stories from a kindly grandma like me.
Trust and understanding between a teller and listeners is essential for telling scary stories. However horrifying the story is, children can enjoy it if they know that the teller will return to her kindly self when the story is over. Even if the story contains quite a long scary scene, in the end, children will say with satisfaction, “It was fun!”
When such trust has not developed yet, or when I know that the listener is confronted with a big problem in life, I try not to tell a story that contains similar problems to his, or a story that would keep scaring him afterwards.
Adzuki Beans
INSIGHT: Adzuki beans are small red beans that are cooked and mashed with sugar to make the anko (bean jam) topping for botamochi cakes.
Once upon a time, there was an old, old temple deep, deep in the mountains. In the nearby village, there was a rumor about the temple. They said that every night, if you dared to go there, you could hear a very strange sound.
One night, a bold young man of the village said, “I will go and see for myself,” and went there.
At the temple, he sat in the middle of the main hall.
“Oh, well . . . I don’t hear anything. Maybe the rumor was false.”
He waited and waited. Though it became very late, he still heard nothing.
“What’s this? I came all the way to hear you!” he yelled, looking this way and that way. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Midnight passed. But then, around two o’clock, he heard something from up above the ceiling.
Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man? SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko. (sound of washing adzuki beans)
Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man? SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko.
The voice became louder and louder.
Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man? SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko.
Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man? SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko.
“Well, I hear something from the ceiling. I don’t know, why don’t you just wash adzuki beans?” the man called, and waited.
SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko. ZAah. (sound of pouring off wash water)
SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko, SHAKko. ZAah.
Bobbo, bobbo, bobbo, bobbo, bobbo, bobbo, bobbo. (sound of flames)
Puppu, puppu, puppu, puppu, puppu, puppu, puppu. (sound of boiling)
PEta, PEta, PEta, PEta, PEta, PEta, PEta. (sound of pounding)
He heard all kinds of sounds. Then, a total silence fell.
“It has stopped. Why?” the man wondered.
Suddenly . . .
DOGAN!! (sound of a loud thump)
Something seemed to have fallen down from the ceiling.
“Ya! Ya! Ya! What happened? Something fell! But it’s so dark that I can’t see anything.”
Feeling his way, he crawled to the middle of the dark hall.
There, he felt something.
Becha! (sound of touching something soft and sticky)
“What’s this?”
Becha!
It felt squishy and sticky. He licked his fingers a little bit.
“Yum! This is very tasty. Oh, this is anko (bean jam)! Umm, ummm. This is so good.”
He scooped more anko with his hand.
“Oh, this is botamochi! Oh, oh, such good botamochi cakes these are!”
He ate them all up, and went back to his village, and told the villagers what had happened.
So the next evening, many young men of the village went to the temple.
They sat in a circle in the main hall and waited, saying, “We don’t hear anything yet.”
Midnight passed. And then, around two o’clock, there came the sound.
Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man? Shall I wash adzuki beans? Or catch and eat a man?
“Adzuki! Adzuki! Botamochi like yesterday!!” everybody cried toward the ceiling.
But the sound from the ceiling was a little bit different from yesterday’s.
Koto, koto, koto, koto, koto, koto . . . kacha. Ja, ja, ja, koto, koto, koto.
Then,
KOTON!
Something fell from the ceiling.
“How peculiar. That was really quiet tonight.”
Wondering in the dark, they felt their way to the middle of the hall.
They felt some tableware.
“What’s this? Oh, this is a tea pot. And here is a tea cup. And then, what’s this stuff in this bowl?”
As soon as they picked it up, they heard a voice coming from the ceiling.
“I don’t give botamochi very often. Have some tea with eggplant pickles.”
Oshimai
TIP FROM FRAN: If listeners don’t know about botamochi and wonder how tea with eggplant pickles might be an acceptable snack, you can reset the story in your own mountains and substitute more familiar snacks. For the first part, make the sounds of preparing pancakes with sticky syrup, or cupcakes with sticky frosting. “Shall I beat some eggs? Or catch and eat a man?” For the second part, offer graham crackers and milk.
Snoring Tree Root
Once upon a time, there were two farm workers. One day, their boss told them, “Go and cut six bundles of grass.”
Leading a horse, they went early in the morning. When they got to the mountain side, they started cutting grass. They worked very hard. Soon, one of them made two bundles of grass. The other made two bundles, too. One of them said to the other, “We have already finished more than half of our work. We got up early this morning, and I am sleepy. So let’s take a rest.”
They looked around
and saw a pine tree. “The shade of that pine tree looks comfortable, but is there a place to lay our heads?”
The tree’s big root showed above ground. “Oh, that root looks like a nice head-rest.”
They lay down, resting their heads on the root. “Hum . . . a nice head-rest. Not too hard.”
One of them was very tired and fell asleep right away. The other was just about to doze off when he heard a very big snoring sound, “GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.” It was loud.
“Well, I guess he can’t help it. He is so tired,” thought the man.
He tried to ignore it and sleep. But the snoring was so loud, “GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
The man covered his ears and tried to sleep.
“GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
The snoring went on. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He yelled, “Be quiet! You’re snoring too loud!” He gave his sleeping friend a kick on the hip.
His friend, who was enjoying a pleasant nap, woke up and said. “What? I don’t snore.”
Soon, the first man fell asleep. But the second man, who had been awakened, couldn’t go back to sleep now. As he tossed and turned, he heard, “GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
“Huh? How could he complain about me? He is snoring loud.” He tried to ignore it for a while.
“GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
It was getting even louder.
“Be quiet! I can’t sleep!” He gave his friend a kick.
His friend woke up and said, “I don’t snore. It is you that is snoring.”
“No, I wasn’t even sleeping now. I couldn’t sleep because you snored so loud.”
As they argued, they heard, “GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
It was a very big snoring sound.
“Oh, there is someone else.”
They looked around, but they saw nobody.
“GuWAraaaa. GuWAraaaa.”
Still they heard the snoring. They sat up, their hands on their tree root head-rest.
Suddenly, the head-rest started to move.
“What?”
Their head-rest slithered toward the pine tree. They looked at the pine tree and saw, behind the tree trunk, a big snake face. That’s who had been snoring! A giant snake!
The two men were so surprised! They ran away, pulling their horse. And the four bundles of grass were left behind.
Oshimai
NOTE FROM FRAN: Mrs. Fujita told me this story during a walk in some Ohio woods, where we saw a big tree root that reminded her of the story. She explained that that’s how her Uncle in the Field told the stories to her: not in a formal performance, but when the sights and sounds of nature reminded him of tales he had heard in his own childhood.
Carry Me on Your Back!
Once upon a time, there were Jisama and Basama. They sold dango (dumplings) at the foot of a mountain. When Jisama walked the mountain path, he always heard a strange voice coming from somewhere: “Carry me on your back! Carry me on your back!”
“Brr . . . it’s creepy!” thought Jisama.
But it was only a voice. Nothing came out and did any harm. So he took the path anyway, and tried to ignore that voice.
But other village people and travelers were too afraid. “That path is very creepy. A strange voice comes from somewhere and says, ‘Carry me on your back. Carry me on your back.’ It’s too creepy. It’s better not to take that path.”
So nobody took that mountain path any more. And nobody bought dango at Jisama and Basama’s shop.
Jisama didn’t know what to do. “We are in trouble. We have to do something.”
He went on that mountain path again. As always, the strange voice came from somewhere: “Carry me on your back. Carry me on your back.”
Jisama said, “If you want to ride on my back, come out and do it.”
The voice said again, “Carry me on your back. Carry me on your back.”
It became louder. Jisama squatted down and showed his back toward the voice. “If you want to ride on my back, come out and climb on!”
“Carry me on your back. Carry me on your back.”
The voice became louder and louder. Jisama said again, “If you really want to ride on my back, hurry up and climb on. You keep asking, ‘Carry me on your back. Carry me on your back.’ I’m so tired of it.”
Then, he felt something cling to his back. “Very well then . . .” He was going to get to his feet, but the thing on his back was very heavy. He had to hold on to a tree nearby. “Heave ho!” he grunted.
He got on his feet and waddled home. When he got home, he said to his wife, “Basama, Basama, something big is on my back. Can you see what it is?”
Basama came out of the house and said, “I can’t see it well. Why don’t you come inside?”
Jisama went into the entry way and said, “This is my house. Now get off my back.” He shook his back.
Chink, chink, chink, chink, chink, chink!
A lot of coins fell off and piled up on the floor. Jisama and Basama had a fortune!
But they were wondering, “Can we use this money? Or should we bring it to the government?”
One day, a priest came by. Jisama and Basama explained what had happened and asked the priest, “We’re keeping that money here. What should we do?”
The priest said, “Money isn’t money unless it is used. Maybe some rich man buried it on that mountain a long time ago. It was going rotten under the ground. It wanted someone to make good use of it and it came here riding on your back. Use it—and pray for the man who buried it.”
Every day, Jisama and Basama recited sutras for the man who had buried the money.
They used the money and lived in wealth.
Oshimai
COMMENT FROM FUJITA-SAN: It’s not only about money. We shouldn’t just store things away. Everything is worthless unless someone makes good use of it. You might be storing away valuable things. You might be leaving things unattended that need repairing. Then, their spirit suffers and haunts you.
Old Man of the Mountain
Once upon a time, there was a traveler. He was still in the mountains when it grew dark.
“Well . . . I suppose I have to spend the night here tonight.”
He gathered dry wood and made a big fire to keep away bears and wolves. He was warming himself at the fire when a little, thin Jisama came up to him. Without a word, the old man started warming his hands over the fire. The traveler thought, “How rude! He is warming himself at my fire without asking me.”
Suddenly, that Jisama opened his mouth. “You’ve just thought, ‘How rude! He is warming himself at my fire without asking me.’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler thought, “Oh, can this Jisama read my mind?”
And Jisama said, “You’ve just thought, ‘Oh, can this Jisama read my mind?’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler thought, “This is a creepy Jisama.”
And Jisama said, “You’ve just thought, ‘This is a creepy Jisama.’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler thought, “How can I get rid of this Jisama?”
Jisama said, “You’ve just thought, ‘How can I get rid of this Jisama?’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler thought, “He reads my mind. I will try not to think anything.”
And Jisama said, “You’ve just thought, ‘He reads my mind. I will try not to think anything.’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler tried to empty his mind. He looked at the fire and thought, “Oh, the fire is burning down. What will this Jisama do when the fire is gone?”
Again, Jisama said, “You’ve just thought, ‘The fire is burning down. What will this Jisama do when the fire is gone?’ Haven’t you?”
The traveler remained silent, trying to empty his mind. He needed to put some wood into the fire, so he snapped a dried twig he had collected.
Suddenly, a little wood chip flew into the air and caught Jisama in the eye.
Jisama said, “Ouch! I can’t read everything a man does yet. Oh, it hurts!”
He ran away dee
p into the mountain, saying, “I have more to learn.”
That’s how this Old Man of the Mountain became one-eyed.
Oshimai
COMMENT FROM FUJITA-SAN: In old folktales, Yamanji and Satori (spooky “old men of the mountains”) are often described as one-eyed. I think it is because they are related to the people who smelted iron in the mountains. When you make iron, you need high heat. I’ve heard iron workers sometimes lost an eye when they looked into the fire.
Furuyanomuru
INSIGHT: You will find out what Furuyanomuru means!
Once upon a time, there was an old couple, Jisama and Basama. They were very, very poor. They had no children, and no grandchildren. The only valuable thing that belonged to them was a horse. At night, they kept the horse in a stable that was attached to their farm house.
One night, a horse-thief sneaked into their stable. He planned to steal their horse. Climbing up onto a beam in their stable, he waited for the couple to go to sleep.
But on the same night, a hungry wolf happened to come too. “I’m going to eat that horse!” he had decided. He hid under the hay in the stable and waited for the couple to sleep.
Jisama and Basama had no idea what was happening. Before they went to sleep, they chatted for a while in their bedroom next to the stable.
“Jisama, Jisama, what in the world scares you most?” asked Basama.
“Well, the scariest thing in the world is a wolf. Just the sound of its howling makes me shudder. Wolves are scary,” said Jisama.
The wolf in the hay was flattered. “I see, I see. Jisama is so afraid of us.” He giggled and was very pleased.