by David Conger
The Mousedeer
Becomes a Judge
Indonesia
Crocodile was resting in his favorite spot under a shady tree. So old was the tree that its roots strained to keep it grounded as it leaned sharply across the river. Suddenly, the wind blew, knocking over the tree with one powerful gust and pinning Crocodile underneath it.
“Help! Help!” cried Crocodile. “I’m stuck! Someone, please help me!”
As the day wore on, Crocodile’s cries for help grew weaker and weaker, and still no one came to help him. He was exhausted and very hungry. Soon he didn’t even have the energy to thrash his tail around.
Instead, he remained as still as possible, listening intently for a sign of someone who could help him. The sun was beginning to set when he heard heavy thudding footsteps approaching.
“Oh, please!” he said desperately. “Please come and help me!”
Crocodile could now hear the footsteps trotting over to him. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when four hoofed legs stopped and stood squarely before him. He tried to look up to see who it was but couldn’t move his head.
“That’s a pretty big tree,” a deep voice said from above Crocodile.
“Get it off me, please!” Crocodile said, now almost in tears. He recognized the voice as belonging to Buffalo, whom he’d met a couple of times in the past. “I will be forever grateful to you!”
“Relax, Crocodile,” said Buffalo in a calm, soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I can lift it.” Buffalo lowered his head, placed his two horns under the fallen tree, and lifted it off Crocodile’s back.
Crocodile scrambled free, swinging his tail around and snapping his jaws open and closed. His back felt as stiff as a board, and he needed very badly to get something to eat.
“Are you all right?” asked the concerned Buffalo.
Crocodile raised his head to look up at Buffalo. He wanted to thank him for saving his life. But when he saw Buffalo’s thick neck and fat haunches, he couldn’t help imagining how good Buffalo would taste. Instantly his mouth began to water, and a long string of drool dribbled out. He couldn’t help it. He wanted a bite out of Buffalo. “Ooooh, my back hurts!” he cried, pretending it hurt more than it actually did. “Buffalo, please carry me deeper into the water.”
Careful not to cause Crocodile pain, Buffalo did as he asked. Deeper and deeper they went into the water. Crocodile’s stomach was now rumbling loudly, and he could no longer stop himself. With a mean grunt, he took a small nip out of Buffalo’s neck.
“Ow!” Buffalo said, howling. “That hurt! What are you trying to do? Eat me?” Buffalo backed away from Crocodile, who had his jaws open once again. “I can’t believe it. I just saved your life! You should be showing me a little more gratitude instead of making me your dinner.”
Crocodile sneered. “Why should I be grateful?” he said. “Animals need to eat, and right now I’m hungry!”
“But I just helped you, Crocodile,” Buffalo replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “Be fair.”
“Fair?” Crocodile repeated. “Fair? There has never been fairness or justice in the forest. The strong and the mighty are the ones who decide what’s fair.”
“Is that so?” said Buffalo. “Well, I believe there’s justice in the forest... and the unjust will have very bad luck.”
Crocodile laughed; as though making fun of Buffalo. “All right,” he said. “Let’s see about that.”
Just then, they spotted the trunk of a banana tree floating down the river. “Ah, let’s ask that trunk,” said Crocodile.
“Sure,” Buffalo agreed. “Hey, Banana Trunk,” he called out. “We want to ask you about justice.”
The trunk stopped at the edge of the river, and Crocodile explained how he’d been caught under the tree and how Buffalo had set him free. “And now I want to eat Buffalo because I’m hungry,” Crocodile said to the trunk, which was rocking back and forth as it listened. “Do you think it’s fair if I eat Buffalo?”
The trunk rolled over and wet its other side. For a moment it didn’t say anything. “I think it’s fair enough,” it said after a while. “Justice is like that everywhere. When banana trees are young and bear fruit, people care for us and tend to us,” he explained. “But when we become old and worn... What do they do? They cut us down and throw us into the river!”
Crocodile nodded. “You see?” he said to Buffalo.
“Yes,” said the trunk, resolved. “People say that is justice because they hold the power!” And with that the trunk continued its journey down the river.
“As I said,” said Crocodile, “the ones who are powerful decide what is just and fair.” He lunged once again at Buffalo, his mouth open.
“But that is not fair!” protested Buffalo. “It’s certainly not just! Anyway, what does the trunk of a tree know about justice?”
Just then, an old horse approached the river. Buffalo called to him just as he was beginning to drink. “Friend!” he said. “Tell us what is just and what isn’t.”
“Just?” repeated the horse, looking up.
He lifted his head up to the sky and whinnied. “Where is there justice?” he said bitterly. “When I was young and strong, I served my master well. I pulled his cart for many miles every day from the village to the field and then back again to the village. But now that I am old, I am left to fend for myself. There is no justice.” Then the horse shook his head and continued on his way.
Crocodile smiled widely and began to open his mouth again.
Buffalo looked about desperately, and spotted his friend Kancil, the mousedeer, prancing through the forest. “Hey, ‘Cil!” he yelled. “Come here for a moment.”
Kancil approached, and Buffalo asked, “Is it fair or not, ‘Cil? The crocodile that I just helped wants to eat me now.”
“Patience, patience,” said Kancil. “To determine whether something is just or not, I need to understand exactly what happened from the very beginning.”
“Yes, that’s right,” agreed Crocodile.
“So how did it begin?” asked Kancil.
“Well, I was resting under that tree over there when a gust of wind blew it down,” explained Crocodile.
“Come,” said Kancil. “Let’s go to the exact spot.”
The three animals approached the fallen tree. “Then what happened?” asked Kancil.
“Well, ‘Cil,” said Crocodile. “I was lying here and the tree fell on top of me.”
Kancil waved to Buffalo. “Here, brother Buffalo, lift this tree so that it rests on Crocodile again.”
Buffalo slipped his horns under the tree, lifted it up, and shifted it to rest on
Crocodile’s back. “It was like this,” he explained.
“Ah! It hurts!” said Crocodile, moaning. “Get it off me!”
“But was it indeed like this?” asked Kancil.
Crocodile yelped in pain. “Yes! But, oh, oh, it hurts!”
“Oh, so it was just like this,” stated Kancil as Crocodile struggled under the weight of the tree. “Well, I see—”
“Please!” said Crocodile. “Get it off me!”
“But isn’t this justice?” Kancil went on. “If the tree fell on you, then let the tree lie on you,” he reasoned, “because when you were helped, you repaid the act of kindness by threatening the one who helped you.”
Crocodile was seeing stars, the pain was so intense. He could barely understand what Kancil was saying, but he knew he didn’t like it at all.
“Come on, Buffalo,” Kancil said in cheery voice. “Let’s go.”
Kancil and Buffalo then strolled off together, leaving Crocodile to suffer his just reward.
The Fake Gem
Thailand
Phra pinched the green stone between his thumb and forefinger, and held it up against the sunshine pouring in through the window. It glistened and made little specks of light bounce off the cracked walls of his shop in downtown Bangkok. The stone certainly sparkled like a precious gem, perhaps an emerald, but Phra knew i
t was nothing more than a piece of glass. He had been trading gems for so long, he could tell just by looking at it.
He cupped the stone in his palm and chuckled. “This is a joke, right, Nai?”
Nai was an old friend who had recently had a run of bad luck with money. He had come into Phra’s shop to sell some jewelry for cash. “No, it’s not a joke,” said Nai in a serious tone. “That stone has been in my family for generations, and it’s worth a lot.”
“Nai!” Phra said, smiling at his friend. “This is a piece of glass!”
“Please, Phra,” said Nai. “Take a closer look. It is a very unusual gem. I would rather not sell it at all, but my family has become very poor, and we need to eat.”
“But, Nai—” Phra began again.
“Please!” Nai said, interrupting. “Please help me sell it.”
Phra hesitated. How could he possibly sell the stone as something precious when he knew very well it is not? He didn’t want to lie to people. All his life he had been honest and hard-working, and that’s why he was successful. Everyone knew they could trust him. The king of Thailand came to buy jewels from him, and even princes from faraway countries journeyed to Bangkok to visit his humble shop.
“Listen to me,” said Nai. “You just think it’s glass because it’s so rare. It does not look like any gem you’ve ever seen before.” He looked straight into Phra’s eyes. “You have to believe me.”
Nai didn’t seem to be joking. He didn’t seem to want to leave the shop, either, though it was getting very late. He’d been there for hours, repeating his pleas over and over again. Finally, just before closing time, Phra reluctantly took the piece of glass from Nai and shoved it into a drawer. He still wasn’t convinced, but he took the stone just to make Nai go away.
A few weeks later, a Chinese man came into Phra’s shop. He introduced himself as Lao and explained that he had been sent to buy gems for a crown being made for the emperor of China. “I hear you are the most important and honest jeweler in Bangkok, and that you have the best service,” Lao said, “so I am visiting you before going to any other shops.”
Phra was flattered and felt very proud indeed! He served his special Thai tea and delicious cakes made from fresh coconut. Then he brought out his best emeralds, rubies, and diamonds for Lao to see. He was sure he had the highest quality gems. But as the hours went by, Phra was no longer so certain. None of his gems seemed to impress Lao, who held up each stone against the morning light, shaking his head before putting it down again.
From morning till night, Phra brought out more and more of his gems. Lao meticulously examined each, but all the while he had a frown on his face. Nothing pleased him, not even Phra’s special collection of sapphires.
“Too many flaws.”
“Not bright enough.”
“Too small,” Lao said. “I don’t want any of them. Perhaps you are not the best jeweler after all.”
Not the best jeweler? Phra felt terribly insulted. How dare this stranger criticize him! Lao would not find better gems anywhere in the world, Phra thought. He was also annoyed that Lao had taken up so much of his time. In fact, he wished he would just go away.
“Is that all you have to show me?” Lao said. “Is this everything you have?” Phra clenched his teeth together to stop himself from saying something mean. He was getting very annoyed.
As Phra was putting away his large collection of sapphires, he suddenly remembered the piece of glass that Nai had given him. If he showed it to Lao and Lao liked it, it would prove once and for all that Lao knew absolutely nothing about gems.
He slowly slid open the drawer and brought out the piece of glass. “Here’s something you might like,” he said, gently setting it down in front of Lao.
“Oh!” exclaimed Lao as soon as he saw it. “It’s stunning!”
Phra fixed a smile on his face, secretly pleased. He was right. Lao didn’t know the first thing about stones. He wouldn’t know a good jeweler if he gave birth to one!
Lao was now holding up the piece of glass and squinting as if to take a closer look. “I’ll take it,” he said, now smiling. “How much do you want?”
“How much?” Lao said again, looking at Phra.
Phra didn’t say anything. He had been honest his whole life, and lying did not come easily to him.
Lao clutched the green glass tight in his hand. “I’ll give you twenty-five chang for it.”
Wow, twenty-five chang is a lot of money! thought Phra. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought Lao would make an actual offer for the stone and now he wasn’t sure what to do. Phra remained silent.
“Fine,” Lao said, putting a hand in his pocket and shaking his head. He sighed heavily. “I’ll give you thirty chang. But I have only five chang with me. I will leave it with you. Hold the gem for me and I will be back next week with the rest of the money.” Lao took out five chang and placed it on the counter.
Feeling guilty, Phra started to confess. “But the gem—” he began.
Before Phra could say another word, Lao interrupted, “No buts! You must sell this gem to me. I insist, and will return for it soon.” Lao hurried from the store, leaving his money behind.
Phra just wanted to close shop and go home. It had been a long day and he was tired and hungry. If Lao insisted he wanted to buy the stone, then so be it.
But while walking home through the quiet of the nighttime city, Phra suddenly felt the weight of what he had just done. It wasn’t right to cheat anyone, even someone as irritating, insulting, and ignorant as Lao. The shame he felt for the way he’d acted was more than Phra could bear. How will I ever get out of this mess? he worried. Phra walked for block after block, deep in thought, and finally reached a decision. I will face Lao and tell him I can’t sell him the gem. I will give him back his money, he vowed.
Suddenly, a voice called out from behind him. “Phra! Phra!”
Phra turned and looked up the street. It was Nai. He looked as if he was in a big rush.
“A man from China has come to town today,” Nai said, catching his breath. “He’s looking for gems to buy, so I have come to take back my gem to sell to him.”
Phra found himself in a tight spot. The “man from China” was obviously Lao. He felt bad and said, “You know what? I’ve decided that I want your stone. I’ll give you ten chang for it.”
Nai paused to think. “Ten chang is not very much for a stone that big,” he said after a moment, “but since you’re a friend, I’ll let you have it.” So Phra bought Nai’s worthless piece of glass for ten chang.
The thought of Lao’s thirty chang still tempted him, but he had made up his mind. His good reputation was worth more than money. All Phra wanted to do was tell Lao that the stone was a piece of glass and return his five chang. After that, he could forget all about the whole thing. But a week went by and Lao never came back. Then two weeks passed and still there was no sign of Lao.
On the third week Phra began to suspect that Nai had tricked him. By the fourth week, Phra was certain he’d been fooled. Lao wasn’t from China. Nai had sent Lao to trick Phra, and now Phra had been cheated out of money. Oh, how foolish he had been! He had merely thought about acting dishonestly, and he was the one who was cheated.
From then on, Phra was always honest and careful in whatever he did, and even whatever he thought. In doing so, he remained the most important and honest jeweler in Thailand.
The Golden Ring
Philippines
Ganador was the champion cockfighting rooster of Zamboanga province in the South of the Philippines. In the days he was still fighting, none of the other roosters could beat him. He was not only fast and brave, but intelligent, too. Because of his fame, all the other chickens—hens and roosters alike—paid him great respect and he ruled over the best brood pen on the farm. He lived with the farm’s most prized hen, his wife, Inahin, as well as all her sisters and female cousins and their many chicks.
Ganador’s reputatio
n as the most fearless of fighting roosters even earned him the friendship of Lawin, a powerful giant hawk, who normally looked down on chickens. Although Lawin spent most of his days soaring through the air, preying on snakes and other small animals, he would fly in from time to time to visit Ganador.
The two birds very much enjoyed one another’s company, and would perch side by side on Ganador’s tepee, usually soon after Lawin’s noontime meal.
One such afternoon, as Lawin stretched out his talons midflight, ready to land on the tepee next to his friend, an unmistakable golden glint caught Ganador’s eye, blinding him. It was coming from one of Lawin’s front toes.
“Bok, bok, bo-ok!” Ganador squawked as he buried his head under his wing to protect his eyes. “What on earth is that?”
“You’re awfully timid for a former fighter,” Lawin replied, apparently amused. “It’s a ring. I found it this morning.” He held out his toe and patiently stood on one leg so that Ganador could have a better look.
Ganador peered out from under his wing. The ring gleamed in the sunlight. “Oh, wow!” he said, now noticing the delicate design etched around the ring. “My wife would go crazy if she saw that piece of jewelry.”
“It is beautiful.” Lawin twisted the ring around his toe with his hooked beak. “I spotted it in the bushes from way, way up high!” he boasted.
Ganador admired the ring for another moment. He wondered if Lawin would consider lending it to him for a day. He wanted to show it to Inahin. “Um... Do you—” he said, hesitating.
Lawin lowered his talon. He cocked his head as if to listen more closely to what Ganador had to say. “Yes?”
“Do you—Do you think I could maybe borrow it?”
Lawin twirled the ring around one more time and looked at his friend intently. The feathers around Ganador’s neck fluffed up every time Lawin looked at him in that piercing way, each of his eyes a big, black shiny spot evenly encircled by white. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he would never want to fight Lawin.
