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Số người truy cập cùng lúc nhiều nhất là 17 người, vào ngày Sat Oct 06, 2012 10:44 pm

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 Bài 2 - The Cow

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Tổng số bài gửi : 37
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Join date : 28/09/2012
Đến từ : Hanoi City

Bài gửiTiêu đề: Bài 2 - The Cow   Sun Oct 14, 2012 11:37 am

The Cow–Tail Switch

By JABO
Translated and annotated by LÊ KIM. B
.A.

A hunter by name of Ogaloussa lived in the village of Kundi. One morning he took his weapons and went into the forest to hunt. The day and the night passed and he did not return. Another day and night passed and still he did not return. His family talked about it and wondered what had happened to him. A week passed, then a month. The family took care of the small farm and the sons hunted for animals. After a month, they no longer talked about Ogaloussa’s disappearance.

Then one day, another son was born to Ogaloussa’s wife. His name was Puli. Puli grew older and began to sit up and crawl. When Puli spoke, the first words he said were, “Where is my father?”

The other sons looked out into the forest. “Yes”, one of them said. ‘Where is father?”

“He should have returned a long time ago”, said another.

“Something must have happened to him. We should go look for him.”

“I saw the direction he traveled. I can help us find him.”

So the sons took their weapons and went into the forest to find Ogaloussa. When they were deep inside the forest, they found an old trail and followed it. As they came to a place where the trees had died, they found the bones of their father. He had been killed while he hunted. One of the son’s stepped forward. “I know how to put a dead person’s bones together.” He gathered all of Ogloussa’s bones and put them together.

Another son said, “I know how to cover the bones with muscles and skin.” He went to work and he covered the bones with muscles and skin.

A third son said, “I know how to put blood into a dead body.” He went forward and put blood back into Ogloussa’s body.

Another son said, “I can put breath into a dead body.” He worked unstil they saw Ogaloussa,s chest rise and fall.

“I can give him the power of the movement,” another son said. He put the power of the movement into Ogaloussa’s body and he began to sit up. Then he stood up and looked at them.

“I can give him the power of speech,” said another son. He gave Ogaloussa the power to speak and then they all stood back. Ogaloussa looked at them.

“Where are my weapons?” he asked. The sons picked up the weapons and gave them to him. They all returned home. When Ogaloussa arrived home his wife prepared a bath for him, gave him much to eat, and rest. After five days Ogaloussa finally left his house. He had shaved his head because this is what people did after they came back from the land of the dead.

He prepared a great feast to celebrate his return from the dead. Before the feast, he took a cow’s tail and braided it. Then he decorated it with beads and shells and bits of shiny metal. It was a beautiful thing, and many men in the village wanted it. Ogalousaa informed them that he would be giving it to one of his sons at the celebration.

During the celebration Ogaloussa stood up and spoke. “A long time ago I went into the forest to hunt. While I was hunting, a leopard attacked and killed me. Then my sons came for me. They brought me back from the land of the dead. I will give this cow tail to one of my sons. I have only one cow tail to give. I shall give it to the one who did the most to bring me home.”

One of the sons said, “He will give it to me. I put his bones together.”

“No, he will give it to me,” said another. “I put his muscle and skin together.”

“No. he will give it to me,” said another. “I gave him power and movement.” The sons all argued amongst themselves about who would receive the cow tail. Ogaloussa quieted his sons and spoke.

“To this son I will give the cow-tail switch, for I owe him the most.” He came forward and handed it to Puli , the little boy who had been born while Ogaloussa was in the forest. The sons and the people of the village knew that he was right because the child’s first words were, “Where is my father?” For it was a saying among them that a man is not really dead until he is forgotten.

What do you think this saying means? Do you believe it to be true? Can you give an example from history or from your own family
life?
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