The Whispering Granny

In a small village, there lived an old woman. The village was tiny, with about ten households. At the very edge of it stood the old woman's hut, as old and worn as she was.

One kind soul had propped up her hut with supports and surrounded it with an earthen embankment. And there it stood, unsure which side to collapse on. The old woman would gather wood chips, light her stove, and warm herself by the fire. It's no surprise—old people feel cold even in summer. If she had food, she ate; if not, she went without.

One day, a wealthy landowner passed through the village. He saw the familiar old woman and was surprised.

"Are you still alive?" he asked.

"Alive, sir. Death doesn't come for me."

"How old are you?"

"I've lost count of my years, sir."

"And how do you live?"

"Ah, what kind of life is this? Better to rot than live like this: I can't work, and my children and grandchildren have all died long ago. I'm all alone in this world, like a blade of grass in a field. No one to even fetch me water. Couldn't you, sir, help an old woman somehow?"

But the landowner was stingy. He had never been known to help anyone in need. He thought for a moment and said:

"Why don't you, old woman, whisper spells or tell fortunes?"

"I don't know how, sir."

"Well, I'll teach you."

"Teach me, dear, teach me, so I don't live in vain."

The landowner leaned close to the old woman's ear and whispered:

"When someone calls you to a sick person, blow on them a little and whisper: 'Sigala lived, sigala is gone.' Whisper like that for a while, give them a drink from a bottle, and they'll recover. If they don't, then sigala will take them."

The old woman thanked the landowner and began whispering as he had taught her.

Word spread through the area that a new healer had appeared, an old woman who could cure both people and livestock. Not only that, but she could also predict everything.

People flocked to her from all over, bringing her all sorts of goods.

Now the old woman lives and has no desire to die.

One day, the landowner went out hunting. It was a cold day. He chased hares for a long time, shouting at the top of his lungs in the wind, and soon developed a sore throat.

The landowner went to one doctor, then another—but none could cure his ailment. It was about to choke him.

His wife suggested calling the old healer, but the landowner wouldn't hear of it—he knew exactly who that healer was!

He endured and endured, but finally, he couldn't take it anymore and agreed to call the old woman.

They brought the old woman, and by then, the landowner could barely breathe. The old woman quickly began blowing and whispering: "Sigala lived, sigala is gone..."

The landowner heard her whispering the very words he had jokingly taught her, and he was overcome with laughter. But the old woman paid no attention—she kept whispering: "Sigala lived, sigala is gone..."

The landowner listened and listened, and then he burst out laughing—and the sore in his throat burst.

When he came to his senses, the landowner thanked the old woman for saving him from death.

"So, is this how you've been healing all along, just as I taught you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, that's how I do it."

"Well, how do you predict things, then?"

"However it happens..."

"Then guess what I'm thinking right now." The old woman looked the landowner in the eye and said:

"You're thinking: should I pay her for the whispering or not?"

The landowner laughed:
"Curse you, old woman! How did you guess that?"

"Well, sir, anyone who knows you could guess that."

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The Whispering Granny

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