That year, at the annual Buddhist festival in Nam Mau, Bac Kan province, the crowds came in flocks, gathering around the pagoda and creating a noisy, animated atmosphere. Buddhists from all over came for the festival, praying for good luck for themselves and their families.
Amidst the swarms of people was an old beggar woman who walked with a cane and carried a woven basket: “A bit of food for a poor old woman?” she asked as she passed by. Her bony, ulcerated body stank so much that it bothered the people around her. They began to whisper to each other that she was a leper, and that her presence soiled the pagoda and the entire festival.
Not a single pilgrim at the festival offered the woman something to eat, so that by evening her basket was empty. At the end of festival, she trudged her way to the village in the hopes that someone would throw her some leftovers. But in the village she was treated just as she was in the festival. All doors closed before her, and passersby hurried away, afraid of being infected with leprosy. After a while she encountered a widow and her son at the crossroads to the village, having just finished a long day of work in the fields. In the widow’s basket was a bowl of white rice and some dried shrimp. Despite the widow’s own poverty, she took pity on the old woman and gave it all to her, as well as water to drink.
Late that night, the widow and son were sleeping soundly when they heard someone knocking at the door. It was the ragged old woman from earlier in the evening, begging for a place to sleep. She had tried every house in the village but no one would take her in. The widow opened her doors without a second thought. They invited the old woman to sleep on their bamboo bench, and once she had laid her head down she fell into a deep sleep, snoring like an old pig.
By midnight, the modest house lay in dark silence, until suddenly the dull bamboo bench where the bagger woman had fallen asleep began to glow with golden light. On the bench they no longer saw a raggedy old woman but a giant holly python. Its head lay pillowed on a beam of light, and its tail hung down to the ground. So frightened by what they saw, the widow and child closed their eyes and lay very still, praying that evening would be alright.
The next morning, when they woke up, the giant holy python was gone. On the bench, the old bagger woman was preparing to leave. She thanked the widow and son, saying: “This village worship Buddha, but none of the villagers has a real heart. Their festival is not about the teachings of Buddha at all, but about selfishness and money. They will be drowned for their heartlessness. Only the two of you will be spared. Take this bag of ashes and scattered it around your house after I leave. Don’t go out today, for there will be great floods.” The widow took the bag of ashes, but trembled in fear: “If the flood comes, and I pity the villagers, what shall I do?” The old woman hesitates, reluctant to reply, but finally took out two husks of rice and gave it to the widow, instructing: “Put these two husks in the water. It helps”. The widow tried to ask more, but when she raised her head to speak, the old woman has already disappeared. She and her child then hurried to do that they were told and then rushed out to warn all the neighbors of the coming floods, but no one believed them. Some even laughed in their faces, calling them crazy.
On that unforgettable night, the festival continued with uproarious celebration. All the pilgrims and villagers were praying and bowing before Buddha statue when suddenly a stream of water poured forth from the main altar. The ground cracked and the water came flowing out even stronger. The people stood stupefied, and then continued to pray and bow with greater fervor, afraid that it was a sign from Buddha.
In the blink of an eye the stream of water broke into a real flood and swept everything away. Terrified, the people began to jostle each other and struggle to get out. The ground under their feet shook and cracked. Hurricanes, fierce winds, and relentless rain sunk all of the houses and fields into murky water. Suddenly a great crash of thunder was heard and from the churning water rose a giant holy python. It flew around Nam Mau until everything was submerged in water.
Only the house and garden of the widow and her son rose higher and higher above the surface of the water, immune to the storm. As they stood in the house and locked out, they felt anguish at the villagers’ losses. They then put the two rice husks into the water as instructed, and saw them turn into two boats! Despite the floods, the mother and son paddled the two boats out to save as many people as they could.
Nowadays, in the place where the village used to stand is a large lake, called Ba Be Lake. In the middle of the lake is an islet, which was once the home of the widow and her child. Local people call this plot of land the “Widow Islet” to commemorate their virtue – two heroes in the midst of a terrible flood.
From a treasure of Vietnamese Folktales. |
