There was once a poor tailor. Though he had made many coats for many people, he never made one for himself though he wanted one.
One day he decided to save whatever money he earned so he could buy himself material for a coat. Little by little, and bit by bit, he finally had enough money to buy what he needed to make his coat. He brought the material back to his shop and cut it out very carefully so as not to waste any of it. The thought of having a new coat was so pleasurable he worked on it all through the night. When morning came, he had a new coat to put on. Satisfied with his effort, he wore the coat until it was in tatters.
One day he looked at the worn-out coat and thought if he was careful, he could cut a jacket from the less worn bits of the coat. And so he did. He wore the jacket until it too was in tatters.
One day he looked at it and thought if he was very careful he could cut a vest from the jacket. And so he did.
From the vest came a cap.
From the cap came two pockets.
From the pockets came some buttons.
From the buttons there was just enough material to make a story.
A long time ago people discovered that the lorikeet, a small, intelligent bird, could speak with little teaching. Not only was she able to repeat what she heard, she could also give voice to her own thoughts.
One day, a farmer working in his rice fields saw his neighbor's buffalo. The hungry farmer, killed the buffalo, cut up the animal, made a fine meal for himself and hid what he could not eat.
His neighbor came by and asked, "Have you seen my buffalo?"
The man said, "No."
The lorikeet flew to the neighbor and said, “He has killed and eaten part of your buffalo. The rest he has hidden in his fields and rice house." The neighbor looked and saw the meat, just as the bird foretold. He asked the farmer whose meat it was.
The farmer said, "This is not your buffalo meat. This is my meat."
The lorikeet repeated her words. "He has killed and eaten part of your buffalo. The rest he has hidden in his fields and rice house.
The neighbor was puzzled and wondered who was speaking the truth so he asked the magistrate to hear the case the following day.
The farmer was clever. He covered the lorikeet's cage with a huge pot. All night he beat on the pot to make the sounds of thunder. He poured water over the pot to create rain. He shook the pot to make it feel very windy.
In the morning, the farmer took the bird and appeared in court. The bird told her story. The judge was impressed by the bird's intelligence and clarity.
The farmer spoke, "The bird speaks well, but she speaks nonsense. Ask her to describe last night's weather."
The judge agreed. The lorikeet replied, "Last night we had a ferocious storm with much thunder, heavy rains and a strong wind."
"You see," said the farmer. "She speaks well but she speaks nonsense."
The judge spoke, "It is true. Last night was calm and clear. Case dismissed."
The lorikeet was exiled to the forest where she lived as she had before she knew people. One day in the forest, she saw a new bird covered with brilliantly colored feathers. She questioned the bird. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
The bird preened and spoke, "I have come from another country, but I will live here. I speak the language of people."
"The lorikeet said, "I welcome you with some advice. If you would speak to people, let them teach you what to say. People are not interested in truth or wisdom. They wish to hear only their own words.
And so it is. Parrots repeat what they are taught. People are content.
As a young child, Sila was rescued from the sea after the boat she was on capsized and her parents drowned. Her five older brothers took care of her.
From the beginning, Sila loved the sea and swam far and well—better than anyone else in the village. At first her brothers were proud of her, but when villagers complained the brothers were not teaching her properly, they told her it was time to stop swimming and learn the ways of village girls. Sila loved her brothers and did as she was told, but away from the sea she grew thin and pale. Her brothers were so worried they asked Raven for help. Raven told them, "Your sister is not like other young girls. She must be allowed to be who she is if you want her to be healthy and happy." Reluctantly the brothers agreed for they loved their sister.
As Sila grew up the villagers ridiculed Sila and her brothers. The brothers grew ashamed and forced Sila to do the tasks of young village women. Sila tried, but she became quiet and sad. She never talked or laughed as she had when she was allowed to swim as she pleased. Once again her brothers called on Raven. He reminded them, "Your sister is not like other young women. She must be allowed to be who she is if you want her to be healthy and happy.” Fearing for her life, the brothers allowed Sila to return to the sea.
They began to follow Sila and noticed that she swam with a strange creature. The brothers were afraid the creature would harm their sister so they tried to kill it but the creature escaped. The brothers made new, sharper arrows. Sila pleaded with her brothers, "Let the creature be. He is no danger to anyone." But her brothers refused to listen. In time, the arrow sang its killing song and the creature died.
Sila was beside herself with grief. Her brothers assured her they had killed the creature for her sake, but Sila was not comforted. They kept Sila under their watch in a tepee and when Sila gave birth to a child the brothers noticed the child did not look like other children. They were afraid and asked Raven for advice. Raven said, "Your sister is not like other young mothers. She must be allowed to be who she is if you want her to be healthy and happy." The brothers listened reluctantly, not happy with Raven’s advice. They took to watching Sila and the child closely.
Although Sila swam with her child she feared for his life. She knew she could not keep him safe for very long. One day, she swam with her son to a place he had never been. She told him what he needed to know and bid him leave her even though her heart was breaking.
For a second time Sila was consumed with grief. Her brothers tried to keep her busy helping their wives and children but Sila yearned for her child. She knew her brothers would kill him if they saw him so she called on Raven. "Help me safely see my son. I cannot live this way."
Raven took pity on Sila and created a thick white cloud that separated Sila from her brothers. They could not see her as she ran from the village and once again, swam in her beloved sea, joyfully greeting her son.
When Sila did not return, the brothers called on Raven to help them find her. Raven refused. "You would not let her be who she is, therefore you do not deserve to live with her. She is gone to be with those who love her as she is. There will always be a thick cloud of fog between you."
This time it was the brothers who grieved.
Illustration from A Tale of Tales (이야기 주머니 이야기), Written & Illustrated by Lee Uk Bae, Borim Press
There was once a boy who loved to hear stories. Although he asked everyone he met to tell him a story, no matter how people pleaded, he refused to tell any stories. Since he was the child of wealthy parents, no one dared complain. After his parents died, people felt sorry for him and his faithful servant saw to it that whenever the boy asked, there was someone to tell him a story.
In the corner of the boy’s bedroom hung an old bag, tightly tied with string, forgotten by everyone. But every time the boy was told a story, the spirit of the story went into the bag. In time, there were so many stories the spirits became so crowded they could hardly breathe.
Time passed. When the boy came of age, his uncle arranged for him to marry. The night before the ceremony, the old servant stopped outside the young man’s bedroom and heard angry voices. He crept into the room and listened.
“He’s going to be married tomorrow.”
“We must do something. It’s our only chance.”
“Let him feel what it’s like to suffer as we have all these years.”
“What can we do?”
“I know,” said a deep old voice. “Tomorrow, he will ride to the bride’s house. It’s a long ride and he will soon be thirsty. When he stops to drink water from the well at the side of the road, I will put poison in the cup he drinks from and he will die.”
There were murmurs of approval until a tiny voice asked, “But what if he doesn’t drink? A little further down the road is a field of strawberries. The young man loves strawberries. I will offer him a strawberry that guarantees him eternal sleep.”
“Good idea,” said a husky voice, “but just in case he isn’t hungry, “I will be a red-hot poker in the sack of rice husks he will use to dismount from his horse. When he steps down, he will be engulfed in flames.”
“But he is very rich,” argued a high-pitched voice, “suppose someone carries him off his horse. “I will be a poisonous snake under the rug that lies under the bridal bed. I will bite him when he sleeps and he will never wake.” The voices uttered their approval, relived to know there would be an end to their suffering.
The old servant was horrified, knowing that if he told anyone what he had heard they would think he had gone crazy. They would keep him from accompanying his beloved master to the wedding ceremony. He had promised the boy’s parents he would take good care, but how could he protect him now? All night he worried. When morning came, he had devised a plan.
As the procession was preparing to leave, the old servant begged the uncle of the young man, “Please sir, let me lead my young master to his new home. This would be a fitting end to my years of service.” The young man raised no objections; the uncle agreed.
They had barely gone a quarter of the way when the young man said to the old servant, “Look, there is a well just ahead. Let us stop. I am thirsty.” Instead of stopping, the old man increased the pace and before the young man knew, they had passed the well. “Did you not hear me say I was thirsty? Why did you not stop?”
“Oh sir, I was thinking about your beloved and we passed the well before I knew it.”
“Well, just ahead is a field of strawberries. They will quench my thirst and my hunger. Arrange to stop the procession and pick me strawberries.” Once again, the old servant urged the horses to move so fast they passed the strawberry field before the young man could yell, “Stop.”
The young man yelled at his old servant. “Why did you not stop? Do you want me to die of thirst and hunger?”
“I am so sorry sir but just think, the sooner we arrive the sooner you will see your beloved.”
The uncle spoke with barely contained fury. “This is no way to treat a young man on the way to his wedding. I will take care of you later.”
All too soon they arrived at the home of the young man’s beloved. Just as he was about to dismount from the horse, the old servant slapped the horse’s behind and the young man fell off the horse into the dust. As the uncle helped clean his nephew’s clothes he whispered to the old servant, “Just you wait. There is no punishment too harsh for you.”
After the ceremony and the dinner and the celebration, the newly wedded couple retired to their bedroom and had just fallen asleep when the old servant ran into the bedroom with a sword, pulled back the rug and slew the snake. The bride screamed. The young man called for the guards. There was so much noise and commotion the uncle awoke and rushed into the bedroom where he saw the old man, sword in hand, a dead snake at his feet.
“Take this old servant away. Tie him up and …”
“Please sir,” pleaded the old servant, “I beg of you. Do with me as you wish, but first let me explain.” He told them of the bag in the young man’s bedroom, voices he had heard, about the poisoned water and strawberries. “If you don’t believe me, look in the sack he would have stepped down on and you will find a burned poker with charred straw. If all else failed, the snake under his bed was prepared to bite him.”
“Why?” asked the young man. “What have I done to deserve such enmity?
“All your life you have asked for stories. Each time you asked, someone told you a story. Yet whenever anyone asked you for a story, you refused to tell one. All the spirits of all the stories you would not tell were whisked into the bag on the wall where they were imprisoned, cramped and uncomfortable with no way out until you agree to tell stories.”
Oh,” said the young man, seeing the pain on the old man’s face. “You have served me better than I knew. I promise you, from now on, I will tell a story to anyone who asks.”
And he did.
Once upon a time, Leopard, who was very hungry, saw Tortoise, and chased after him, ready for a fine dinner, but no matter how hard Leopard tried, Tortoise managed to escape.Then, one day, Leopard came upon Tortoise walking slowly on a road. Leopard pounced on Tortoise ready to kill. “Tortoise, prepare to die.”
Tortoise, realizing there was no escape, asked Leopard to grant a favor. Surprised, Leopard asked what Tortoise wanted. “It is not just that you should kill me, but since this will happen, I would like a bit of time to prepare myself, to prepare my mind.” Leopard agreed, thinking that Tortoise would stay still and be quiet. Instead, much to Leopard’s astonishment, Tortoise did not stay still and quiet. Instead, Tortoise scratched the road, digging up stones and dirt and plants, throwing them every which way, creating a huge mess.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Leopard.
“So that after I am dead,” Tortoise replied, “people passing by will know that here is where a great struggle took place.”
In China, a long time ago, a huge serpent was menacing the village—eating animals and crops, and sometimes, people. The villagers, tired of losing neighbors, crops, food, and livelihoods demanded their magistrate protect the community, but no matter what he tried to do, he was unable to stop the rampaging serpent. As a last resort, he sought the advice of a sorcerer who advised the villagers to sacrifice one 13-year-old maiden in the tenth month of each year if they wanted it to stop plundering the village. For nine years, offering the maidens kept the villagers safe from the serpent’s devastation.
In the tenth year, Li Chi, a young girl from a poor family, spoke to the magistrate. She volunteered to go up the mountain and sacrifice herself to the serpent if the magistrate would guarantee that her mother and father would be taken care of until they died. She knew that as she and her five sisters married, they would have to leave home to live with their husbands’ families and when the last girl was married, the old parents would be destitute, alone, and without help.
Unlike the maidens who were forced to go with nothing to protect them. Li Chi made a plan. She asked the magistrate to give her a dog, food, flint, and a sword. Although he was reluctant to provide her with what she requested, his relief that this year he would not have to struggle to find a maiden from increasingly unwilling families overcame his reluctance and he satisfied all her requests.
Li Chi went up the mountains with the dog. Although she wasn’t sure how to find the serpent’s cave, the closer they came, the more powerful was the stench. The dog whined in protest. Li Chi, almost overcome by the horrible odor, found it harder and harder to continue, yet they kept walking toward the smell. When they reached the cave she began her preparation, telling the dog what she must do. Using the flint, Li Chi made a fire to cook the food she brought. Soon delicious smells wafted back into the cave, enticing the hungry serpent. It slithered out from the cave, rearing its ugly head in search of the food. With a nod from Li Chi, the dog leapt up and clawed the serpent’s eyes. Immediately, Li Chi stuck the sword into the neck of the blinded beast, continuing to strike it until the serpent lay dead.
Instead of leaving immediately, Li Chi entered the serpent’s cave and collected the bones of all the nine maidens who had been sacrificed to appease the beast’s appetite. Reverently, she carried the bones back to the village, not only to show the villagers the serpent was dead, but to remind the people that the young girls had died for them. Li Chi ensured that they were buried with the proper ceremony and respect.
The animal community decided they needed a king and voted to make Elephant, King of the Animals because he was the biggest and strongest, yet very gentle. But after a short time, he changed drastically, and not for the better. When he saw animal mothers carrying food to their children, Elephant grabbed and ate it without listening to their cries. He stopped caring where he walked and trampled on nests without apologizing or repairing the damage.
The animals were upset and terrified. They called a meeting when Elephant was sleeping, but no one knew what to do or how to stop Elephant from his rampaging. When Ant said she had a plan that would not only make Elephant stop behaving badly, he would also apologize for the misery he caused, the animals laughed in spite of their despair. If none of the bigger animals could think of a solution, what could a tiny creature like Ant possibly do to influence an enormous animal like Elephant? Ant persisted, continuing to ask permission to take action, until the community gave in, realizing it had no other ideas to remedy the situation.
Ant observed Elephant’s behavior for a few days, noticing that after lunch he always took a long nap. One afternoon, when Elephant was snoring, she climbed up into his brain and started to dance. Elephant woke up with a terrible headache and roared in pain. Ant told him her dancing might be causing his headache but she would only stop if he promised to behave.
Elephant roared his displeasure. “I am Elephant, King of the animals. I do what I want, when I want, as I want.” Ant said nothing. She just kept dancing. Elephant’s headache grew so unbearable, desperate to stop the pain, he finally agreed to all of Ant’s demands—anything to make her stop dancing. Anything to ease the agony in his head.
Just to make sure Elephant didn’t change his mind once she stopped dancing, Ant reminded him, “I have lots of relatives and we all love to dance.”
In the beginning, when the world was new, there was no light. The people huddled together in cold and dark to keep warm, bumping into each other because they couldn’t see. It was a hard time. Feeling hopeless, they held a meeting. One of the animals said, “I have heard that on the other side of the world there are People of the Light. We should go and ask if they will give us some.”
“Don’t be foolish,” responded another. “If they have all the light, why would they give us any? We will have to take it.”
The animals agreed someone should go, but who? It would be a long hard journey. “I’ll go,” said Buzzard. “I’m big and strong. They will have to give it to me.” The animals cheered as he left.
Soon he returned with nothing to show for his effort but a burned place on the back of his head where the light had burned him.
Other big strong animals agreed to go, but each came back empty handed, all burned on some part of their body.
The animals were in despair. No one knew what to do. None of their warriors were able to return with light. In the silence, Grandmother Spider spoke up. “I will go. I have a plan. I will bring back light.”
Everyone laughed at her silly offer. “You’re old. You’re tiny. What makes you think you can do what those who are bigger and stronger and younger than you could not do?”
“Yes, I am old and small, but those who are bigger and stronger and younger did not succeed. I have a plan. I will go. I will bring back light.” The people laughed even harder at her foolishness, but in the end, they had no other choice. They agreed to let her go.
Grandmother spider molded a tiny bowl out of damp clay and waited for it to dry. Then she spun a fine web as she moved toward the People of the Light so she could find her way back. She was so little and so quiet, none of the People of the Light noticed her. They were looking for the warriors coming to steal the light. Carefully working so that no one could see her, Grandmother Spider put a small piece of light into her clay bowl and spun her way back to her people.
When she arrived with the light, at first the people were stunned, then amazed, then joyful. “Now we will have light and warmth”. They gathered around Grandmother Spider. “You have brought us light and warmth. We will always honor you,” they promised. And they have.
Hummingbird hated how she looked—drab, utterly colorless—unlike the beautiful flowers, the brilliant sky, and the glorious shades of grasses and leaves. Nothing she did changed the color of her feathers. One morning, while feeling glum and miserable, she heard a loud groaning, a horrible noise. Much to her horror, it was Panther, an animal who always terrified her. His sharp teeth were almost as big as she was. As he moved closer, his moans grew more unbearable until Hummingbird blurted out, “Why are you making so much noise?”
Panther told her, “Last night, I accidentally stepped on Mouse Mother’s children as I was running through the forest. To punish me, when I was asleep, she put mud on my closed eyes. Now the mud has hardened and I cannot open my eyes. I cannot see. I’m blind. How will I ever find enough food to eat?” He began to wail louder than ever.
“You’re not the only one with a problem,” snapped Hummingbird, “I’m so dull and gray no one even notices me.”
“That’s not a problem. I know exactly how to help you become more colorful.”
“You do?” asked Hummingbird, not at all sure she believed him.
Panther said, “I’ll make a bargain with you. If you peck the mud from my eyes so I can see, I will help you become as colorful as you like.”
Although Hummingbird wanted this more than anything in the world, getting close enough to Panther to peck out the mud from his eyes was almost too frightening to think about. Yet, she yearned to be colorful.
So, despite her fear, she gathered her courage and flew to Panther, making him promise to keep his mouth closed. She pecked out the mud from his eyes as carefully as possible, hoping he wouldn’t open his mouth and eat her when she was finished. When Panther could open his eyes he danced gleefully. “I can see. I can see.”
Hummingbird grumbled, “What about your promise? What about our bargain?
Panther stopped dancing and looked at Hummingbird. Shaking his head, he says, “You really are drab. No wonder you’re unhappy.” Hummingbird was about to tell him that he didn’t have to make her feel bad, she already felt awful, when he said, “Follow me.”
He led her to a clearing in the forest near a bubbling stream and told her to gather as many different colored flowers and grasses as she could find. He put a pot of water over a fire he built. Hummingbird filled the pot with flowers and grasses and seeds and leaves. Following his instructions, she stirred and stirred and stirred. When the mixture was cool, Panther told her to jump into the pot and wet herself all over. Then he told her to fly out and shake herself off. Panther looked at Hummingbird and said, “Better do it once more.”
After the third time of jumping into the pot and shaking herself dry, Panther said, “There, that’s more like it. Fly to the river and look at yourself.”
Filled with dread that Panther’s plan had not worked, Hummingbird made herself fly to the water, afraid of what she would see. “Open your eyes and look!” commanded Panther.
Hummingbird took a deep breath and did she was told. “Oh,” she gasped, hardly believing her eyes, amazed to see such a marvelously colored bird reflected in the water. “I’m beautiful,” she said, stunned.
“Yes, you are, and I’m hungry,” said Panther and he walked into the forest.
"Lake Draksum Tso, Nyingchi, eastern Tibet (19)" by Richard Mortel via Flickr
Little Parrot loved the jungle more than anything. Each morning she flew over the greenery, looked at what lay below, and counted herself fortunate to live in such a place. Only when she was sure that all was well did she fly back to earth and eat breakfast.
But one morning, when she flew overhead, she saw nothing but thick, black smoke. The jungle was on fire! Little Parrot flew to the river as fast as her tiny wings permitted, took a huge gulp of water, flew back to the fire, and spit out the water, trying to quench the huge flames. Back and forth she went, from the river to the fire, from the fire to the river, trying her best to put out the fire though she could only take small gulps each time. She soon became exhausted but kept on going. Her beloved jungle was at risk.
As she was flying for the umptieth time to the river, worried that the jungle would burn before she could put out the fire, she heard a loud harsh laugh. Then she heard a cackling voice say, "Silly parrot. You’re too small to put out such a big fire."
Little Parrot looked up and saw Eagle, the largest bird in the jungle. "I don't need advice,” she said quietly, “I need help.” She continued flying to the river and back to the fire. As she was doing her best to douse the fire, Little Parrot saw a huge stream of water pouring from the skies, quenching part of the fire. Little Parrot did not stop to see who was helping her, she just kept flying to the river and back, hoping that with new help the fire would soon be put out.
When there were no more flames, Little Parrot looked around to see if she could find the source of the help for which she was so grateful. Amazed, she saw that it was Eagle. Though utterly depleted, she flew up to Eagle and said, "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Were it not for your help, the fire would still be burning."
"No," said Eagle, "it is I who must thank you.