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STORYTELLING CLASS IN JONESBOROUGH, TN June 13-19, 2005

Story and pictures by Jo

From the mountains of New Mexico to the mountains of Tennessee, storytelling is alive and well. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains of Santa Fe and the Blue Ridge Mountains of Jonesborough truly hold the magic of stories waiting to be told. What fun to study cultures rich in folklore, history and the love for telling. The University of Oklahoma continuing education summer programs are innovative and rewarding and I thank my Oklahoma friends.

I have traveled and shared stories many years, always searching for my storytelling “voice”. Each year with the study of new cultures and with new friends, I feel the magic of stories and experience it as I tell.

Under the guidance of Tim Tingle, storyteller, author, and instructor…..the week in Jonesborough was inspiring. We heard the best-of-the-best storytellers and that itself made us strive to create and perform better.

The opportunity to learn the performance art, to tell our stories, and to learn new ones was brilliant. We were at the heart of storytelling in the U.S. The communities welcomed us with open-arms. Our class studied at the Jonesborough library and we shared stories in town and in surrounding areas. The little town welcomed us and we performed any and every place we were invited to tell.

Tim taught flute classes and Bruce Roberts taught us rhythm. In no time, we were telling and developing musical rhythms with storytelling. (I must confess, I am sorely lacking in musical talent but loved the percussion storytelling and even learned about rhythm moods. Bruce gave us a workbook to follow).

Our journey to Beech Mt. to visit Rosa Hicks and her son, Ted, was one of the highlights of our trip. The beautiful spirit of this North Carolina mountain family was an inspiration. Rosa’s deceased husband, Ray, is a famous Appalachian storyteller and is honored in Jonesborough as one of the original mountain tellers. Our small group shared stories and felt the love and joy of telling with Rosa and her son on the top of that beautiful mountain.

“A legend is a story passed by word of mouth from generation to generation. Legends live because there is truth in them.” We visited the N.C. Oconaluftee Reservation and learned some of the ways of the Cherokee Indians and how they lived. Our beautiful guide, Anna, blessed our group with the honor to pass on stories of what we learned that day.

She gave us permission to tell Cherokee stories with respect. From the book she recommended, “Aunt Mary, Tell me a story”, I found wonderful tales. Mary Ulmer Chiltoskey, the author, says, “stories may have many versions because the storyteller is free to tell the happenings in a way in which the audience can understand.”

Tim and I were Texas storytelling friends almost twenty years ago. Now I live in Georgia with new friends. Each day of life brings a new adventure.

Tim’s classes helped me feel free to use my “own voice” but I will always feel the need to improve. Each teller has a unique style—we vary as people in cultures and beliefs and carry on our oral traditions. Thank you Tim, you have been a kind and caring mentor to me and my joy in telling is enriched by your wisdom and guidance.

We were treated to special storytelling events at the Cranberry Thistle Café, a Doc McConnell/Jimmy Neil performance at the Storytelling Center Concert stage and special Guest storytelling coaches, Heather Forest and Elizabeth Ellis as well as a Blue Grass Street Concert.

Stories fromTurkey

Our little friends in Yalikavik, Turkey

HODJA, a Beloved Character of Turkish Folktales.

A modest man, master of humorists, Nasreddin Hodj has been riding his old donkey since the 13th century. My husband, Jack, and I traveled many miles to stay in a small village on the edge of the sea, Yalakavik, Turkey. We mingled with the villagers and learned firsthand some of the traditions of Turkey. Some of the best known tales from that part of the world are folktales based on the character HODJA.

Sometimes he is a simple old man in ordinary life troubles like an obstinate donkey, babbling wives or miserly neighbors, sometimes he has more color in his life within comic, trickster, eccentric style. Hodja has a delicate, merciful and optimist personality but he does not guard his tongue against the great sultans or cruel kings like Tamerlane. But he is often a teacher, preacher or wit and wise man with pure logic and genius. He is a raconteur and good company and he is also a fair judge with common sense and human nature.

Hodja loves life, talks with children, nature and animals. He is in favor of the truth, justice, peace, joke, listening music, traveling and being with people. However, meanness, bigotry, corrupt judges and insolence annoy him.

Nasreddin Hodja has no enemy but many friends in a vast geographic area extending from the West China and East Turkmenistan to Balkan, Eastern Europe and up to Hungary, from Southern Siberia and Caucasus to North Africa and Arabia. In other words Hodja is one of the eternal bands between folk groups of these regions no matter any religion, language or ethnic background. He is a human being of the world. He is the folk himself. Somewhere on this planet he is still causing laughter.

For over 700 years, Hodja is said to have journeyed all over the world. Who knows, maybe Hodja is riding his donkey backwards between planets and galaxies.

SOME HODJA STORIES

TO MAKE THE PEOPLE STOP TALKING

One day, Hodja and his son went on a journey. Hodja let his son ride the donkey while he walked. Along the way, they passed some people who said, "Look at that healthy young boy on the donkey!"

The boy then let his father ride while he walked. Hodja rode and the boy walked by his side. Soon they met another group.

“Look at that! Poor little boy has to walk while his father rides the donkey.” This time, Hodja climbed onto the donkey behind his son. Soon they met another group, who said, “Look at that poor donkey! He has to carry the weight of two people.”

Hodja then told his son. “The best thing is for us to walk and lead the donkey. Then no one can complain.”

So they continued their journey on foot. Again they met some others who said: “Just take a look at those fools. Both of them are walking under this hot sun and neither of them is riding the donkey.”

In exasperation, Hodja lifted the donkey onto his shoulders and said, “Come on, if we don't do this, it will be impossible to make people stop talking.”

RIDING THE DONKEY BACKWARDS

One day Nasreddin Hadja was riding his donkey backward, facing towards the back. “Hodja,” the people said, “You are siting on your donkey backwards!”

“Oh no,” he replied, “It's not that I am sitting on the donkey backwards, the donkey is facing the wrong way.”

SMUGGLING DONKEYS ACROSS THE BORDER

Hodja took his donkey across a frontier every day, always with a big load of straw. Every day the guards searched him as he crossed each way. They knew he was smuggling but could not find anything. They searched his person, sifted the straw, again and again. They even burned the straw from time to time. Hodja was obviously becoming more prosperous.

When he finally retired and went to live in another country, he met one of the customs officers. "You can tell me now, Hodja," he said. "What was it that you were smuggling in the straw. We could never catch you?

"Donkeys," said Hodja. "Donkeys and just only donkeys."

FOLLOWING ARE EXCERPTS FROM: "A look at the History and Humor of the Hodja" by Lorne Brown in the September 1998 NSA Storytelling Magazine. Turkish Fables of the Hodja

This Middle-East character goes by many names. Many call him Nasrudin. Or Mulla Nasrudin. Or simply the Mulla. Maybe even Mulla Nasrudin the Hodja. In Arabic tales, he is Djuba.

No matter what he is called, he is a wise fool, wise in his foolishness, and foolish in his wisdom. As such, he inherits the wide tradition of the fool and the trickster. We see his cousins everywhere: Boots in Norway, Jack in Appalachia, Anansi in Africa, the Chelmites in Poland, Coyote in North America. Fools have always had the ability to instruct, but perhaps none more so than the Hodja.

These stories may be told as jokes in tea houses.....Beyond the joke, there is some nugget of truth, of wisdom, of enlightenment.

"Mulla" means master, and hodja, in pre-republican Turkey, was a Moslem priest and teacher, a scholar of the Qu=ran and religious law. Turkey became a Republic in 1926 when the leader, Kimmel Attaturk declared it a Republic. Attaturk declared that Turkey use the modern alphabet and the country modernize.

STORIES & FOLKTALES FROM JAPAN

Train Station in Japan Jo with School Girls

Traveling by plane, train and bus, my husband and I spent time with the local villagers. It was a wonderful way to meet the people of Japan. We spent 31 days backpacking across Japan, Korea and Okinawa. Language was often a barrier but smiles and a friendly bow helped to find new friendships.

SPARROW AND THE WOODPECKER

In the old days, a sparrow and a woodpecker, who were sisters, lived together happily. Well, the woodpecker, an older sister, had a very bad habit. She was so fashionable that she always powdered and put lipstick on many times. So it took a long time. Compared with her, the sparrow, a younger sister, wasn't careful about her appearance at all. She powdered at best but it was simple.

Before long, the sisters went to a distant town to work together. Because both of them worked hard, they were so loved by everyone that they lived happily. Then one morning, as they combed their hair in front of the mirror, they heard the news that they had to go home soon because their mother, who lived in the country, fell ill suddenly. Both of them were so surprised that they could barely stand.

As the sparrow was opening her mouth to wear ohaguro, she put ohaguro on her cheek in surprise. But she didn't mind such a thing. She flew to meet her mother soon. Far from flying in a hurry, the woodpecker powdered more thoroughly.

Perhaps she would be praised by her mother," Oh, you became very beautiful while you were away."

The sparrow that flew soon with ohaguro could attend their mother's deathbed. Their mother saw her and said, "Thank you very much for your coming." and shed tears for joy.

But sadly, the woodpecker that spent much time to powder couldn't attend. The funeral had already been held.

Then a god who was watching in the heaven said, "Sparrow, you are so kind to your mother that you can live near people in the future. So you don't have trouble eating rice."

The sparrow came to build a nest near a house. The sparrow had cheeks with spots, you know. I heard that it was ohaguro that she wore in a hurry when she flew to meet her mother.

However, the god scolded the woodpecker. "You were so absorbed in your makeup that you couldn't meet your only dear mother. You were a bad daughter so look for your feed by yourself."

That's why the woodpecker had beautiful feathers and couldn't live near a house like the sparrow.

She had to look for her feed by herself by holding on to a tree and pecking.

A MAN WHO BECAME A SNAKE

Long long ago, there lived a young man named Hachiro-Taro in the village of Amase-river. He was very big and strong, so he liked the work of cutting down big trees. One day, when he went to work in the depths of Mt. Iwagawa with his working companions, he found plenty of fish that he had never seen swimming in the ravine. They were beautiful, strange looking fish with scales glaring.

He could not help thinking about the fishes. On his way home, he said, "I want to catch a lot of fish in the ravine, please go ahead of me."

Being left alone, Hachiro-Taro squatted down on a rock of the riverside. He put his hands into the stream, so that he could catch fish easily by hand. He caught so much fish that he became excited. They were the fish that he had never seen.

Because he was very hungry, he decided to make a fire to grill them. When he finished eating one, he said, "Oh, it's delicious. I've never eaten such a good fish. I'll eat another one." He ate them one after another. He found himself to have eaten all fish.

"Oh, they were delicious," he said.

Then, he began to have a sore throat. Because he was able not to stand it, he went down to the riverside and scooped up water with his hands. No matter how much he drank water, his throat became burning more and more and he felt so thirsty and it became unbearable. He squatted down to drink water from the ravine. The water of the river increased so much he could drink all he liked.

After a while, he felt good as if he had drunk liquor. He found that it had become dark around him. He was very surprised to see blue, green and silver scales appear on his body and glow in the darkness.

"Although it became dark,” he thought, “I can't go home with such a strange figure. Why did I become a body like a snake?"

Although he was feeling sad, he could do nothing about his body. While doing that, the day broke, and he thought that he had to hide himself.

"Water in the stream has been increasing rapidly since I began to drink. I will hide myself in the river." Taro went into the river and went down with his body being a snake. Going down the river, there was a marsh. He decided to become the master of the marsh.

"But it is too small for me. I will make it a big lake." This is because Taro made a big lake, and he became the master of it.

WHY THE SEA IS ALWAYS SALTY...A Japanese Folktale

Two brothers lived in a small village near the sea. A mountain was on one side of their village and the vast ocean was on the other. The villagers were very poor. They survived by fishing for food and cutting wood on the mountainside. They traded fire wood for rice with people from other villages.

The two brothers were very different. The elder brother worked very hard and shared with all the villagers. He cut wood all day on the mountainside. The younger brother was very lazy and did not share. He went each day to the mountain and complained and was often too tired to help his older brother with the work. The elder brother never complained.

Then on one very special day when the brothers were up on the mountain, a very strange thing happened. The lazy one was under a tree napping and the elder brother was resting a bit and bending over to scoop up water from a stream. He was very thirsty. Just as he brought the water to his lips, a strange, wizened old man appeared by his side.

"Hello," he said. "Do not be afraid. I see you working so hard every day to help your people. For this I will give you a reward." After saying this, the little man pulled a wooden bowl and stirring rod out of his sack. "Take this back to your village and you shall have enough rice for all of your village."

"But how can an empty bowl feed my people?" the elder brother said.

With a strange little cackle and laugh, the little man said, "Take the bowl and stir with the stirring rod, three times. As you are stirring make a wish. But remember, it must be a wish for the good of all your people. You must share."

The elder brother thanked the little man and shoved it into his sack. He woke the younger brother and told him to carry a load of wood. Each loaded a large sling of sticks and wood onto his back and started down the mountain. The younger brother noticed the sack of the elder brother was heavy and he asked about it.

"You shall see." was the answer.

That evening as the villagers gathered to share their meager supply of food, the elder brother told them all to bring a rice bowl and gather around.

They laughed at such a foolish man but did as he asked. After all, he was an honest hard-working man.

The elder brother carefully pulled the empty wooden bowl and the wood stirring rod out of his sack. Everyone watched in amazement as he started stirring and chanting. "Please give us rice to eat. Please give us rice to eat. Please give us rice to eat."

To everyone's amazement, the bowl filled with rice and everyone had plenty to eat.

That night, the elder brother tucked the bowl and stirring rod close by his bed roll. The younger brother lay on his bedroll, greedily thinking of what he would do with the bowl if only he could own it. He could be a rich man.

He decided to take the bowl and rod and run away. He quietly crept across the room and carefully took the bowl and stirring rod. He ran as fast as he could to the little fishing boats on the nearby seashore. Hastily the younger, greedy brother started rowing far, far out to sea. When he saw that he could no longer see the shore, he stopped rowing and picked up the bowl and stirring rod.

"Give me sweet rice cakes, give me sweet rice cakes, give me sweet rice cakes," The greedy brother demanded as he turned the stirring rod, round and round three times.

Sweet rice cakes appeared in the bowl and the greedy brother ate as fast as he could. He ate 'til he could hold no more and then demanded of the bowl, "Stop! No more rice cakes!" The rice cakes stopped coming from the bowl.

"Hmmm," the greedy brother thought, What will I wish for next. I know," he said. "I will wish for salt. Salt will taste good after all the sweet cakes. Salt is very precious and if I have much salt, I will be very rich. Very rich indeed."

So the greedy brother stirred round and round three times and wished for all the salt in the world. The salt quickly started filling the bowl. The brother ate some salt and then filled his pockets as the salt spilled out of the bowl and began filling the boat. The boat began to get heavy and started sinking lower and lower in the water.

"Stop," demanded the greedy brother.

But this time the stirring rod did not stop and the bowl spilled forth with more and more salt. It filled the boat up to the very top. Slowly the boat started sinking and down, down it went to the bottom of the sea along with the greedy brother who kept demanding the salt to stop. But it did not stop.

So my friends, it is said that the stirring rod is still going round and round in the wooden bowl in the little fishing boat at the bottom of the sea. And that is why..............THE SEA IS ALWAYS SALTY!

Come back to visit. There will be stories to read and hear!