The Mermaid1
In days of yore, so runs the Japanese legend as interpreted in the Nihon no Mukashibanashi (Old Legends of Japan) there lived a man, a good-natured soul, who yearned to be married but had reached middle-age without finding a suitable partner of his joys and sorrows. His joys consisted mainly in fishing with rod and line from the rocks or the river-bank: his sorrows were most acute when he reached home tired at night and found no one to welcome him and to cook the fish that he had hooked.
One day he was sitting, rod in hand, on a rock meditating on his forlorn and solitary condition when suddenly he felt a tug at his line and found that he had hooked something out of the common. Fearing to break his line and lose both tackle and fish he warily played it for some time and at last succeeded in landing it on the rocks, when to his surprise he found that it was no real fish, but a mermaid with the face of a beautiful maiden, and a body which ended in the orthodox tail.
“Desinit in piscem mulier formosa superne.” The mermaid’s face was tearful, for the hook was in her cheek, and there was also the shame of being forcibly dragged out of her native element; and the angler was a man of tender heart.
Gently extracting the hook from her jaws, he held her in his hands and meditatively speculated on the money which he could gain by selling her to an itinerant exhibition, or the long life which he might obtain by eating her flesh, (it being, according to the Japanese legend, the peculiar property of mermaid’s flesh to give perpetual youth and life to those who eat it).
But his soul revolted at the thought of eating this fair creature, that whimpered and cried like a human being, and so after another long gaze he threw it back into the waves, when the mermaid, waving its grateful adieux, speedily dived out of sight.
The man (his name does not appear in the story) then went on with his fishing. He caught an astonishingly large number of fish and at evening returned home satisfied not only on account of his great catch, but also because of the act of kindness which he had performed. That night as he was in his kitchen, with his sleeves tucked up, preparing his supper, he heard a gentle voice, as of a woman, calling to him from the front of the house. On going to open the door, he found a woman of ordinary appearance but with a sweet and loveable countenance, who told him that she was a homeless and belated traveller who begged a night’s lodging. “Come right in,” he said, “and make the best you can of my poor accommodation.” Then, showing her into the parlour, he begged her to sit down and rest a little while he got ready the supper, and went off into the kitchen. But the woman followed him, and peering over his shoulder as he was scraping the fish said:
“Won’t you let me earn my supper by helping you with the cooking?”
“No, no,” replied the man, “it would be poor hospitality to make my guest work in the kitchen. Please go into the parlour and sit down. I’ll be with you directly.”
But the woman insisted that she had lived all her life by the seaside, that she knew all manner of beautiful recipes for cooking fish, and that it was but right that she should do something for her night’s entertainment; and being a woman she got her way.
Never before had such delicious fish been served in that poor bachelor’s house. He ate what was set before him and came again for a second help and a third, and then fell to expressing his regret that he could not hope to have such a supper every night. Then coyly and modestly the lady remarked that such a hope need not be beyond his powers of attainment; and when pressed for an explanation of this speech, she let fall a modest tear and said that she was a lone woman without parents and without a home. He was, as we have before said, a tender-hearted man, and the upshot of it all was that the lady consented to become the mistress of his house, his hand, and his heart.
But on conditions:—when in the first burst of joy, he was about to press his newly found treasure to his heart, “My dear” she said, holding out a warning hand, “My dear, you know I have lived all my life by the sea side, and I can’t do without my salt-water bath once a week. Promise me that.” He readily assented. “And promise me,” she continued, “never to come in, nor to look, while I am taking my bath.” It was such a simple request and such a natural one, that the lover (for he was that now) could but joyfully acquiesce and congratulate himself that he had obtained so great a treasure on such easy terms.
So they were married, and lived happily for many months. The fish were always excellently cooked now, and the husband grew sleek and comfortable, as men do when they have got wives at home who take good care of them. But the bath! It was her one pleasure and diversion, and she took the whole morning preparing for it, and stayed in for hours in the afternoon, and then spent the rest of the day in adorning her person after her bath. So that when bath day came around her husband had a poor time of it. Still he bore it patiently, satisfied with his bargain, till one fatal afternoon when he came home and found her as usual in her bath. The doors were shut, but there was a chink, and he was hungrily anxious to know how long it would be before he got his supper. So he just peeped in to see how long she was going to he, when to his suprise and horror, he saw no wife, but a mermaid swimming about in the bath-tub.
“Ah!” he said, with half a shudder, “now I understand why she is such a good hand at cooking fish. I hope she did not see me peeping at her, but all the same I don’t think I shall be able to eat those fish as heartily hereafter.”
Presently the door opened and his wife appeared. With a tearful face she knelt down before him and said, “You were kind to me long ago when you saved my life out fishing. In order to repay your kindness I came to help you and be your cook. You have treated me with unfailing kindness, and have honoured me by making me your wife. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done. But, alas! you have seen me in my true form, and now I can stay with you no longer. It grieves me to the heart, but I must bid you goodbye. Heaven bless you, and give you a long and prosperous life.” And before he could speak she was away on the rocks and plunged into the sea.
Poor man! by one thoughtless act he had lost a good wife, and as his marriage with a mermaid had procured for him the gift of a long life, there were many lonely days of widowerhood in store for him.
The fable appears to have two morals. The one is that if a lady wishes to gain and to keep a good husband, she should feed him. The other is that if you with to retain the affections of a good wife you should not interfere with her toilet.
Yao Bikuni1
“Yao Bikuni” is a legend about longevity found throughout the main island of Japan. Yao literally means “eight hundred,” and bikuni means “Buddhist priestess.” The oldest written source for this legend dates back to the fifteenth century. Several variants exist, and many of them originated in a coastal area in Fukui Prefecture, where a stone monument commemorating this legend stands. They share the following basic plot: a little girl eats mermaid’s flesh without knowing its effect and gets to live for eight hundred—or in some versions, two or four hundred—years.2
—MAYAKO MURAI, Kanagawa University, Japan
Translated by Mayako Murai
A long time ago, a gathering was held. A man went to the gathering and took home mermaid’s flesh served as fish to give to his beloved daughter. The little girl, who later came to be known as Yao Bikuni, ate the mermaid’s flesh, and, lo and behold, her life was extended to no less than eight hundred years!
Then, she said, “I no longer want to live in this world. All my family are gone, and I cannot keep up with what is going on around me. This is all because I have lived eight hundred years. So please bury me in the ground.” She was going to be buried up on the mountain in Obama where Kuin Temple was. “Please bury me here, and plant a camellia tree where I am going to be buried. When this tree stops blossoming, I will die. As long as it is blossoming, I won’t yet be dead.” Yao Bikuni explained this, and people buried her there. Then water began to drip from the spot. “When this water stops dripping, I will also st
op breathing,” said she. Water is still dripping if you go there.
After a while, however, they moved the stone monument and the camellia that stood where Yao Bikuni was buried to another place. Maybe they were in an inconvenient place for the temple. Then, Yao Bikuni’s camellia began to wither. People said, “This is not good,” and moved the tree back to where it was. Since then, it has continued to blossom. So it is said that Yao Bikuni is still alive today, and will be until the day when the water stops dripping and the camellia stops blossoming.
WATER SPIRITS OF THE PHILIPPINES
The Republic of the Philippines is an archipelago of more than 7,600 islands, colonized by the Spanish from the mid-sixteenth century to the late nineteenth century. In the Philippines, stories about the sirena have a colonial origin, but they circulate in syncretic relation to stories about old-time water dwellers such as the catao (or kataw), litao, and magindara—often guardians of freshwater and the trees surrounding it. American anthropologist Henry Otley Beyer (1883–1966), over several decades, amassed a vast collection of materials about Filipino culture and history. His great-granddaughter, Charity Beyer-Bagatsing, found more than forty mermaid stories in his papers, three of which appear here. Beyer-Bagatsing notes,
The sirena, or mermaid, and the facts surrounding this mythical creature are of Spanish origin. Using the 160 volumes of the Beyer Ethnographic Series, I was amazed that the maiden of the waters was predominantly unique to the Ilokano volumes. I approached my Ilokana grandmother—Pacita Malabad Beyer—with the question, “Why is the sirena only found in the Ilokano papers, barely mentioned in the Tagalog papers, and not at all mentioned in the Visayan and Mindanao papers?”1 She replied, “The different rivers in the Ilocos region, although calm and pristine on the surface, have strong currents and undertows beneath. Through the years, I heard accounts of swimmers drowning or in a half-dazed state after escaping the grip of an unknown force that tried to drag them to the bottom of the river; having no other explanation for this phenomenon, the early Spaniards told the natives it might have been a mermaid or sirena.” She also added, “The Ilokano term litao—the male deity of the waters—supports the Ilokano traditions and dialects; besides, the word sirena is a Spanish word and has no Ilokano equivalent.”
The following sirena stories are my personal favorites. The first one, “The Mermaid Queen,” is one of the oldest stories in the Ilokano volumes, dating back to the 1600s. The sirena is described as a kind lady with supernatural powers rather than a half human-fish creature. The second story, “The Litao and Serena,” intertwines the Ilokano and Spanish beliefs into a love story that parallels the blending of the two cultures. Finally, “The American and the Sirena of Amburayan” came about during the American years [when the Americans occupied the Philippines], adding humor and notoriety to the infamous water nymph’s character and persona.
The Mermaid Queen1
This story is from San Carlos, Pangasinan. In the olden days, Binalatongan’s main product was mongo beans (balatong), hence its name. It was a wealthy settlement of two thousand houses where ordinary people wore the finest Chinese silk for daily use and gold flowed in the rivers surrounding the region.
The name of their sovereign ruler was Maginoo Palasipas, who was unhappy in spite of his vast wealth and power brought by his exemplary rulership. His greatest desire was to be conquered by the heart of a woman and share his kingdom with a soul mate. This woman had to be the fairest of the fair, whose beauty and character was unmatched by no other. His loyal datus sought the fairest maidens in the land and presented their beauty to the king. Tagalog chieftains sent envoys with a message offering their secluded royal daughters to be his bride. Chinese, Japanese, and Bornean merchants volunteered to sail back to their native lands to bring back princesses of pure royal blood. However, he refused all their offers and suggestions.
One evening, Maginoo Palasipas strolled by the riverbank and laid down on the dewed grass to admire the fullness of the moon. He heard a faint and mystical melody from afar. Following the sound of the music, he came upon a maiden sitting on a rock with her back turned. She was combing her thick ankle-length hair and had the most enchanting voice.
He noticed a crown of pearls adorning her head and she wore a silk robe embroidered with gold beads, pearls, and diamonds. The maiden instinctively turned around and he beheld the face of a goddess with flawless olive skin, blue-green eyes like the waters, and blood-red lips.
Instantly smitten, Maginoo Palasipas asked who she was. She answered, “I am the mermaid of Binalatongan.”
Palasipas replied, “I have heard about your kindness toward my people. Thank you for guiding my fishermen back into shore during a storm, for rescuing Datu Angat’s only son from drowning, and leaving a string of pearls to Datu’ Bakat’s widow after he was killed by raiding Tirong pirates.”
By this time, Palasipas got down on his knees and asked the mermaid to be his wife and rule as the Queen of Binalatogan. The mermaid smiled, nodded her head, and gave her hand to the Palasipas. The mermaid renounced her sea life and thus began the long and glorious reign of the once-mermaid and the powerful Maginoo Palasipas.
The Litao and Serena1
Long ago, the beautiful Serena lived with her mother by the sea. At the end of the day, she would sit on a rock to comb her long tresses while singing so sweetly. One day a litao heard her voice and fell in love with this mortal maiden. The merman wasted no time expressing his feelings; serenading her under the shadows of the moonlight and leaving flowers and treasures at her doorstep.
Serena’s mother grew fearful of the deity that sought her daughter’s heart and forbade her from leaving the house. Two weeks went by and Serena grew increasingly bored, and angry from being kept indoors. One morning while her mother was distracted preparing breakfast, she opened the window and noticed a bright object sparkling by the water’s edge.
Filled with curiosity, she crept outside and saw a diamond the size of a small coconut, dancing with the waves. As her fingers scarcely touched the waters, a huge bubble enveloped her and transported her to the litao’s palace in the bottom of the sea. When she reached his abode, she gazed upward and saw the sun shimmering like a glorious diadem. A soft voice called her name, turning her head, she saw a half-fish and half-human creature whose eyes were filled with love and kindness.
He showed her his kingdom and by the end of the day, Serena was in love and agreed to live with him at the bottom of the sea. The litao explained she would have to drink a potion mixed with his blood to transform her into an immortal half-human and half-fish creature like himself. However, he withheld the dark secret of the price he had to pay for her immortality, which turned him into a mortal after a hundred years.
Piercing his wrist with a silver knife, he prepared the elixir and gave it to Serena to drink, and within a few minutes her transformation was complete. After sunset, they went up to the surface and visited Serena’s grieving mother, who almost fainted from the shock of her daughter’s new form. But seeing their great love for each other, she blessed their union and the sirens lived happily in their underwater paradise for one hundred years.
Their union produced seven beautiful daughters who now live in the various waters of the area. On the eve of the hundredth year, the litao whispered in her ear, “A hundred years with you is better than eternity without you.” After disclosing his dark secret, he spent the rest of the evening consoling his distraught wife. Early the next day, the merman kissed Serena good-bye and swam near the entrance of their home where he turned into a rock.
Serena, full of anguish at the loss of her husband, went up to the shore and transformed herself into a human. Hearing the sounds of a procession, she walked toward town and followed behind the carriage of the Virgin Mary; walking sorrowfully with tear-filled eyes fixed to the ground.
People wondered who the mysterious lady was. After the procession, a curious few followed the lady with the fish
like odor as she walked toward the river. When she came to the water’s edge, they surely thought she was going to drown herself. They watched in awe as the waters divided into two walls giving her passage into her underwater palace. The litao was soon forgotten by all except Serena, who is forever grateful for the gift of immortality her husband gave her long ago.
The American and the Sirena of Amburayan1
This story is about the siren living in the Amburayan River in Tagudin. During the construction of the bridge, which occurred during the American occupation, the chief architectural engineer was an American who made his home near the river.
The mermaid who had never seen a man with light blond hair, sky blue eyes, and skin that turned into gold from the sun’s rays became obsessed with the young man. Each night she would sit under the window of his bedside singing and inviting him to meet her by the waters of the half-finished bridge. By the end of the week, the mermaid felt insulted and wondered why the object of her desires never came to the water’s edge or even acknowledged her presence.
The mermaid was unaware of the fact that the American was very sensitive to foul smells, and the rotten fishlike odor permeating from the mermaid’s skin made him sick to the stomach, causing him to pass out. One night, determined to find the cause of his fainting spells, he tied a bandanna to cover his nose and fully loaded his rifle. That same evening, the mermaid was intent on making the American her husband, changed herself into a human, and knocked on his door.
The Penguin Book of Mermaids Page 21