About How a Man Turned into a Turtle
Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived a husband and wife. They lived in poverty. The husband was lazy and disliked farm work, spending his days idly wandering around the yard. Meanwhile, his wife toiled in the fields from morning till night, yet they never seemed to grow any richer. One evening, the wife went to check their storage and found nothing but a handful of barley. She sighed and decided to cook barley porridge.“So, you’re feeding me barley again?” the husband angrily exclaimed. “I don’t want to eat this porridge!”
“What else can we do?” the wife replied. “We’ve been out of rice for a long time, and there’s barely any barley left. And this barley grew in our own field—we should be thankful to the gods for it.”
“You’re foolish and scatterbrained!” the husband retorted. “I refuse to eat barley porridge anymore!”
He shoved the bowl away.
“Poor man! All you do is laze around—you’d be better off working!” the wife sighed and began to eat.
“Don’t you dare argue with me, you wretch!” the husband shouted and drove his wife out of the house.
She wandered aimlessly, leaving the village and the fields behind. She found herself on a mountain path. “I’ll go to the mountains and die there,” she thought.
She walked and walked—the surroundings were quiet, except for the occasional hoot of an owl. Suddenly, she saw a faint light glowing among the trees, like a window shining in the distance. She approached and saw an old, ramshackle house nestled between the rocks. Peeking inside, she noticed a bearded man sitting by the fire, cooking wild boar meat.
“Forgive me for disturbing you,” the woman said. The man turned and spoke:
“People don’t come to the mountains on a night like this! Are you a shapeshifter?!” He drew a long hunting knife from his belt.
“Have mercy on me!” the poor woman pleaded. “I’m a peasant from the village at the foot of the mountain. Please let me stay the night.”
“You do seem to be a real person,” the bearded man said. “Well, come in, since you’re here.”
The woman opened the straw door and entered the house.
“Tell me, what brings you to the mountains at night?” the man asked.
The wife had no reason to hide the truth, so she told him everything.
“Your husband needs to be taught a lesson for his laziness,” the man said. “Stay here for now. You’ll see—necessity will force him to work.”
Meanwhile, the husband waited for his wife, not believing she would stay away for long. Eventually, he went out to look for her. He searched the village from top to bottom, checking every corner and alley, but he couldn’t find her.
A day passed, then another. The husband wandered aimlessly around the yard—he didn’t know how to work. By the third day, he could no longer bear the hunger. He had no choice but to learn how to weave bamboo baskets. He wove them, sold them, and managed to survive.
Ten years passed like a dream. The husband resigned himself to the idea that his wife had long since died and rarely thought of her. He lived poorly, worked poorly, and had completely let himself go.
One day, the husband took his bamboo baskets to sell in the mountain villages. He walked and walked until he came to the very same house nestled between the rocks.
“Baskets! Baskets! Buy my fine bamboo baskets!” he shouted as he approached.
A woman came out of the house, looked at him, and nearly gasped in surprise. But she decided not to let on that she recognized her husband.
“Welcome, sir trader, come inside,” she said. “We need bamboo baskets. And you must be tired from your journey—rest and eat.”
The husband, who had grown somewhat nearsighted over the years, didn’t recognize her at first. She placed a bowl of barley porridge in front of him and urged him to eat:
“Please, eat your fill!”
The husband was hungry and quickly devoured the meal, praising it: “What porridge! Oh, how delicious!”
“Since when do you love barley so much?” the woman suddenly laughed. “I remember you used to hate it!”
The husband looked at her and finally recognized his wife.
“Ah!” was all he could exclaim.
Overcome with shame, he grabbed a large basket, pulled it over his head, and ran out of the house.
“Hey, wait!” the wife cried, running after him. “Wait, stop! I’ve been waiting for you for so long! Let’s return to the village and live in peace and harmony!”
But the husband kept running and running until he came to a swift mountain stream. He stopped to catch his breath, but suddenly he felt the basket slowly sliding from his head to his back. He shrank smaller and smaller until—poof!—he turned into a mountain turtle!
“Oh, what’s happened to you?!” the wife cried. She ran to the river, picked up the turtle, and wept bitterly. The turtle, out of shame, retracted its head into its shell.
From then on, it is said, the shells of turtles in Okinawa came to resemble bamboo baskets, and to capricious children who refuse to eat properly, people say: “Eat well, or you’ll turn into a mountain turtle!”
More fairy tales
- Crane Feathers
- The Coffin with Jewels
- How the Shark Saved the Old Man
- A Long Name
- How the Hare Swam Across the Sea
