One and a Half Handfuls

There lived two men. They had a pot and lobio (a bean dish), but no salt. One said to the other:
— We can’t cook lobio like this. Go to the city and buy one and a half handfuls of salt.
— But I’ll forget, how do I remember it? — said the other.
— Just go and repeat, “One and a half handfuls, one and a half handfuls” — you won’t forget.
So the man went to the city to buy salt.

As he walked, he saw a peasant plowing a field, sowing seeds and muttering, “A thousand for one, a thousand for one.” The man shouted, “One and a half handfuls, one and a half handfuls!”
The plowman got angry:
— I’m praying for a thousand grains to grow from one seed, and you’re saying, “One and a half handfuls!”
He grabbed the man and beat him thoroughly. After venting his anger, he let him go. The man asked:
— Why did you beat me?
— Because I’m sowing, and you’re saying, “One and a half handfuls.”
— So what should I say?
— “A thousand for one, a thousand for one” — then I wouldn’t have beaten you, I might even have thanked you.

The salt buyer continued on his way. He passed through a village and saw a funeral procession. As he walked, he shouted, “A thousand for one, a thousand for one!”
The deceased’s relatives grabbed him and started beating him. They beat him hard, vented their anger, and let him go.
— Why did you beat me?
— Because you said, “A thousand for one.”
— What should I have said?
— You should have approached, taken off your hat, and said, “May this misfortune be the first and last in your family” — then we would have thanked you and sent you off with honor.

The man, now known as “One and a Half Handfuls,” continued on his way. He encountered a wedding procession, took off his hat, and said, “May this misfortune be the first and last in your family!”
They grabbed him, stretched him out, and turned whatever width he had into length. After venting their anger, they let him go.

The poor “One and a Half Handfuls” walked away a bit and asked:
— Why did you beat me? What did I do to you? I was taught to say that, so what should I have said?
— You should have approached, taken off your hat, and shouted, “Long live the wedding procession, long live the wedding procession!”

“One and a Half Handfuls” limped on, all beaten up, barely dragging his feet. As he walked, he wondered what to say if he met anyone else. He saw a hunter sneaking up on some pigeons, about to shoot. “One and a Half Handfuls” tore off his hat, rushed to the hunter, and started shouting, “Long live! Long live!”
The pigeons fluttered and flew away.

The hunter jumped up, grinding his teeth, and rushed at poor “One and a Half Handfuls,” beating him with the butt of his gun. He beat him so hard he nearly killed him. Barely alive, the man asked:
— Why did you beat me? What should I have said or done?
The hunter replied:
— You shouldn’t have made a sound. You should have crouched, stayed hidden, and crawled quietly so as not to scare the pigeons — then I wouldn’t have touched you.

The unfortunate “One and a Half Handfuls” limped on.

Four men had lost a wallet of money and were searching everywhere. “One and a Half Handfuls” saw them, crouched, hid, and crawled along the fence. They noticed him, ran over, and grabbed him.
— You scoundrel! You found the money and now you’re hiding, trying to run away?! — and they started beating the poor man.
They beat him so badly that he couldn’t even drag himself home.

Feast there, famine here,
Chaff there, flour here.

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One and a Half Handfuls

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