In Sweden where I am from, most of our folktales are about trolls or female creatures. I remember when I was a child my grandmother always used to tell the story of the mountain troll that lived by the Viking rune stones. The story goes that the troll lived there to protect the treasures left by the Vikings and that if anyone tried to climb the mountain the troll would come out and eat you. Of course this story scared me and my brother to death.

I understand that mostly the story was to protect us from hurting ourselves when we walked around in the woods. Though as we got older me, my brother and our cousins always played on the mountain, but in the back of our minds we always remembered that story of the mountain troll.

This is one of the folktales that I remember from my Grandmother… She is Peruvian and of Inca descent. To clarify her side of the family speaks fluent “quechua” the native language of Peru. It is an oral language that uses folktales to convey the values as well as history of Andean Culture.  This particular tale is not an old one, in fact my grandmother informed me that it’s origins derived from the extinction of a particular species of lizard  about a two hundred years ago that was prevalent in the mountains. It was during that time that American mining companies started to destroy the habitat to get at rich mineral deposits. The people in these habitats that were used to seeing these animals who were used for rituals and for medicine, witnessed their demise and derived a story to maybe explain or justify their quick collapse.

The Lizard is always colorful, it is always fast, it is always happy. He knows that under the sun no other has as many colors, he knows no others that can run and hide faster, he knows that he is happy because he can see others look at him with envy.  He would tell the turtle, he would tell the mouse, he would even the tell the hawk if he had a chance. “In my beautiful colors I can hide myself and blend in , with my fast quick legs I can run and hide from the heavens itself”.  All the animals grew tired of his talk, all the animals grew angry with his walk. Finally all the animals said to him. “If you are so happy with yourself that you remind us every day than go and be with yourself see if you can get the attention we won’t give you” and with that all the other animals ignored the lizard.

The lizard did not care, he continued to tell everyone his gifts, continued to show his bright colors. After a while the lizard began to notice that nobody got mad , nobody scolded or chased him. As time passed the lizard was sad, how can he be happy, how can he be bright, how can he be fast if nobody cared for his plight. Then one day as he lay under the sun and sky, showing his colors in the bright he noticed a sparkle in the rock that caught his attention. He went and saw the bright and shinny rock, it said nothing but it sparkled bright, it did not talk but only dazzled. The lizard finally said ” you are like me bright and colorful  but you say nothing and don’t move, are you not afraid of the hawk or fox?” The rock said nothing, it just shone and dazzled in the sun.

The lizard lonely and bored began to talk to the rock, after a while he found it pleasant for the rock did not get mad or chased him away but just sat there bright and gay.  Everyday the lizard went to talk to the rock and everyday they both sat under the sun, but the lizards every now and then had to run and hide away. The lizard began to grow envious of the rock as it shone brightly but was not afraid, it never had to run and hide away. He said to himself ” The rock does not hide, he is not afraid of the hawk during the day nor the fox at night”  Believing in his strength the next day, the lizard went to meet the rock and stay all day, with no fear and no running during his stay. Eventually the hawk came and looked for prey, the lizard saw this and with his many colors blended away in the mountains and rocks so the hawk could not see, the most slippery lizard in between the rocks. The Lizard now fell invisible and tall, for he had tricked the Hawk and even the fox. He bowed to the rock never to be afraid, that he would stay with him throughout night and day. They would together shine in the bright sun, sparkling their colors at the envy of all.

Then one day the other men came, the ones who hunt for rock and not prey. They did not care for potatoes or meat, all they cared was the bright gleam. They began to carve out the mountains looking for shiny rocks, all the animals began to go away all except the lizard who vowed to stay. They said to him ” Don’t be a fool, run and hide so you can shine brightly in the sun while on the run”. The Lizard responded ” I do not care for your fears, I vowed to stay by my rock for she did not turn on me and my colors” . So the animals left and yelled at him ” you fool, she does not love you, it is a rock who does not console you” The lizard stayed as the rocks were turned and broken, he hid and tried to scare the men with his hissing and bright colors. But all the men saw was a colorful little creature, they tried to catch him, but he was fast and agile , he could run and hide under the rocks. In the end they could not catch him, but the rocks he hid they all were turned and destroyed. The lonely lizard by his vow died, beautiful and bright by his rock never to be seen by man in the earth or stone, but shinnying brightly in the heavens were there are no rocks.

When I was trying to recall folktales or family stories from my childhood one of the first things that popped into my head was a story I remember hearing in Hebrew School when I was probably eight or nine years old. After all these years I couldn’t remember the title but after a quick search I found Eve Bunting’s Terrible Things: An Allegory of the Holocaust. From what I found the book is based on a quote by Pastor Martin Niemoller about the inactivity of some Germans during the Nazi rise to power in the 1930’s and 40’s. The quote is as follows:

“First they came for the communists, and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist.

Then they came for the socialists and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for me.”

There is a longer version of the quote that mentions other groups, including Jews and Catholics, and there are slight variations of it that exist in the U.S. and other countries. The book that I remember from my childhood adapts this quote through the use of different types of animals living in a forest that are one by one taken away by the “Terrible Things.” This story clearly resonated with me because I remember the impact it had on me to this day. The quote itself may not be a folktale but I think that the many variations that have been told at different times and in different cultures could be.

When I first heard this story I was too young to really comprehend what had happened in the Holocaust but I was able to understand that when the animals were only concerned with protecting themselves and the other animals like them then the entire forest ended up suffering in the end. The story stays true to the form and intent of Niemoller’s quote, but by using birds and rabbits instead of communists and socialists it conveys its message in a way that children can understand. Looking back I think that this story is not only an effective way to introduce children to the concept of the Holocaust but also to teach them to stand up for what they believe is right, even if it means putting themselves at risk for the sake of someone different from them.

My mother’s version of the story was same as to the one we have read in the class except she didn’t knew what bhand was because she never heard of that word. So when I told her about the story, she had recall the word “bahurupiya” which means the same as bhand. But as the author define in the text that bhand can do more than bahurupiya can. So, according to my mother, bahurupiya does a lot of characters too because it is consider as art since ancient time and in order for someone to be called bahurupiya, they have to get into the character so much that one person can’t tell the difference from what that person was before or what they going to be after just like the story. There are many more stories just like this in india not only the scary one like this but some nice ones too which are use for religion purposes. As not only coming from indian background but the minority religion group too(jainism) have bunch of stories like this one to tell to the children about the past history about the religion.
Three years ago, I have read a story from a book which has many stories about my religion. This is how I remember the story which took place in india long long time ago. There was a king and he like to turn (bahurupiya) himself into a animal to go in the forest. Everyday, he would be something different, one day a lion the other snake but one day he saw a jain muni (philospher) and he told himself that he would become a jain muni. The day he turned himself into a muni, he liked it and he stayed like that ever since. In order for him to do that he had to leave everything behind from his kingdom to his wealth to meditate in the forest and that was the biggest sacrificed he had made in his entire life just to become a muni and to reach nirvana.
Even though true calling was little scary and sad at the end, parents wouldn’t tell their children this story. But in my religion usually all of the stories are to be told to children since they are being told generation to generation for religion purposes.

I was raised by Polish speaking parents who told me a lot of Polish folktales but the only one I can remember clearly right now is the story about an old ugly witch called Baba Jaga. I remember being threatened with a visit from Baba Jaga whenever I was misbehaving. Baba Jaga lives deep in the woods in a small cabin with a big oven and when children behave badly she flies out on her broomstick brings the children back to her cabin and cooks them in the oven before she eats them. She appeared as the villain in a lot of Polish children’s books my mom used to read to me.

This story was one of the only one’s I was able to remember from my childhood, I was barely able to remember all the details. Fortunately I was able to find the whole story on the internet to refresh my memory. The link is here:

http://www.sacred-texts.com/jud/jftl/jftl25.htm

The story is called ” The Rabbi’s Bogey-Man”  and it is a short tale about a very smart Rabbi, that creates a machine to cook and clean for him, and be his worker on the sabbath. While the machine is very helpful and magical, it also results in chaos, by burning down houses. Eventually the Rabbi destroys his first machine, and creates a second one. The second one is stronger and bigger and threatens to kill all Jews. The Rabbi destroys the second machine as well. This story passes on a valuable lesson that can still be applied in life today, which is to not trust into the power of technology and machine too much, while also incorporating the anti-semitism that Jews have had to endure throughout most of their history.

In my family I never have been told typical folktales, but my parents always share their experiences of coming to the United States and starting a whole new life. I would consider these experiences as a form of folktale. I am sure that I will share these stories with future generations of my family. My family has always been the type to talk about where they come from. They tell me how it was to come to this country and the struggles they had to endure. My father tells me how he left his home at the age of twenty and traveled throughout Central America trying to make a living and better his life. He was involved in commercial trading and because of all the traveling he went though a lot of different experiences. Going from country to country to make a few dollars are memories that he will never forget. He lost countless friends to the Civil War in El Salvador and almost lost his own life. He reminds me that God helped him throughout all his struggles and because of God he was able to make it as far as he has. He started his life in the United States in California, but saw opportunities in New York to make a living and eventually a family. He constantly tells me that God was the one that continued guiding him throughout the course of his life. Starting his life in New York was very difficult because it was so much different then his life back home. He tells me the first time he saw snow and how such a simple thing as snow really astonished him. This is a story that has been told to my brother and myself. And will probably be continued told to other generations because my parents were the ones who gave me the opportunity to grow up in the United States and I now have the opportunity to achieve amazing things.

Growing up in Haiti was a memorable experience, mostly because of the richness of the Haitian culture and folklore.  When I was a child, what I enjoyed the most was the stories told after supper. When there was an occasional power outage, we often gathered around a gas lamp called “tet gridap” and tell all kind of stories and charades. The stories would sometimes evoke one’s laughter or fear, sometimes they told to teach a lesson of wisdom, and other times, one would not know what to make of the story. Some stories were told just for the sake of telling stories. The storyteller would say “Krick” and the audience would respond “Krack”. One story I remember is the story of Tezin, a big fish. This story plays an important role in the Haitian Folklore and culture. I’ll try my best to keep it brief and to tell it to the best of my knowledge.

Krick!

(Krack!)

As the custom wants it, boys and girls who grew up in rural areas actively participated in the family’s duties. So there was a brother and a sister who, sometimes, were sent off to collect water in a river (or pond) located not too far from the family house. When both returned home, the family always complained about the boy not bringing crystal clear water like her sister did. So, the parents asked the  brother to learn from her sister, but the brother was really hard-headed and never really listened to her sister’s instructions. He would rather play in the woods, and who knows, enjoy nice naps under the shadows the “Mapou” (a tall tree) . One day, while the sister was collecting water, a big Fish appeared. The Fish introduced itself as Tezin and told the girl that it would help her because she is nice and loyal. So Tezin and the girl made a pact. The fish would go and collect the utter most clear water from the depth of the pond for the girl if she kept it a secret. Upon arriving to the river, the girl had to sing a song to invoke the fish. However, Tezin warned the girl not to tell anyone about his existence because this would put his life at stake. Also, he gave her a handkerchief; if the handkerchief becomes stained with three drops of blood , this means that Tezin was killed. From then, because of Tezin, the girl would bring the clearest water they have ever seen home . Her parents were very suspicious and asked the brother to spy on the girl. So the next day, after witnessing the interaction between the fish and her sister, the boy ran home and divulged her sister’s secret friendship with the fish. The parents got mad and worried that the fish was a monster who meant harm to their daughter. They thought that the monster of the river had taken their daughter’s soul, so they planned on killing the fish. The next morning, they sent the girl off to the marketplace instead of the pond. Meanwhile the parents went off the pond and sang the song and killed Tezin. The next day she went to the pond and sang countless times but the fish didn’t appear; she took a look at the handkerchief, and it was in fact stained with the blood. She went off to her house and that evening, fish was served at the family dinner. The girl refused to eat and went out and cried. As she was singing the song she usually sing to invoke Tezin, she was surprisingly going into the ground!  Her brother went out to fetch her but he saw her slowly going into the ground. Astonished, The boy ran inside and called their parents but they didn’t believe him. When he went back the girl was already deep into the ground up to her neck. he went and called his parents and they finally came to see only one of her braids on the surface of the ground!

As the storyteller tells that story, she always finish off by saying that when one passes by the river on a full moon night, one can hear the  girl sing and Tezin splashing out of the water.  We, Haitians, are know to be very superstitious, so this story might confirm your doubts. But what culture or ethnic group doesn’t share some kind of superstitious beliefs, truly?

Stephanie Joseph

Hi everyone!

So this is not necessary a folktale but more of just an account.  I don’t really know of, or, can’t remember, any folktales that I may have been told, recently, however I did have a random experience that prompted my aunt to tell me a story about an incident when she was younger.

Recently, I was in the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria waiting for a friend and a strange woman approached me.  She apologized for disturbing me, but that she had to because she sensed a lot of positive energy emanating from me.  Apparently she is a psychic of some sort and felt the need to come talk to me.  This psychic told me she sees that I worry a lot, about many different things.  More specifically, she told me she sees a lot of good things for me this year and that i should stop worrying. The psychic went in to detail about how this year I will make a lot of strides in my field of interest or in any sort of business i was trying to get into, that i worry about my love life too much and that i keep a wall between myself and other people due to past relationships, and that i need to be more open to the new people in my life.  I repeated all of this to my aunt, and i was somewhat torn whether i believed anything this woman said.  On one hand, speaking of businesses and work is very general, but on the other hand, she seemed completely dead on about how i am with love and how aloof i am in regards to other people.

My aunt told me that i should believe in such things because this psychic didn’t have to come up to me and say anything, and also because she knew nothing about me yet was spot on.  When my aunt was in her 20’s she and her best friend decided for fun to go and see a psychic.  The woman they saw practiced santeria.  As soon as my aunt walked in, the woman told her she had a man sitting on her shoulder.   She said this man was sitting there with the intent to tell my aunt something.  He was trying so hard to tell her something but that my aunt just wasn’t open to it and that’s why she couldn’t hear anything.  Now, at this time, my aunt had been suffering from neck and shoulder pains for quite some time, but of course this is not something the psychic would have known.  A short time after this, my Nana started having a number of health issues that could have been prevented had she been monitored more.  My aunt firmly believes that the man sitting on her shoulder was our Grandaddy, who passed away some years before this. She believes he was trying to warn her to look closer, or to pay more attention to our Nana.  For this reason, she told me that when anything like this happens, that I should lend it some credibility because you never know what might happen.

To get us started, I’ll begin with a folktale of my own.

There’s a bookstore in Manhattan, on 12th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. It’s called S.F. Vanni. It sells Italian books, or  used to; there are dusty old Italian books in its dusty old windows, but I can’t imagine anyone ever buys anything there. Friends have told me they’ve been inside, but I never have, though I’ve walked past many times. Sometimes I forget for years that S.F. Vanni exists, though I walk past it almost every day.

Someone once told me why the store is so decrepit, why its dirty windows are almost always hidden between steel security bars, why it is hardly ever open. I don’t remember who told me, and I’ve never been able to verify it, but here’s the story: Apparently, until the late 1960s, it was a normal store like any other, with customers and a stock that changed regularly. That all changed when the owner or a member of the owner’s family was murdered by a lunatic who walked in during store hours. Protective bars were installed, the owners, whoever was left, opened the place up more and more rarely,  and S. F. Vanni entered a peculiar alternate dimension of time, between past and present. It doesn’t really exist anymore, and nevertheless it’s still there. The truly odd thing is that the family didn’t simply sell the business, cash in on the value of the real estate, and move on. Instead the store remains, a relic of a distant era, receding further and further in time, almost invisible now — though it’s there before our eyes. Next time you walk down 12th Street, check it out.