Monday, September 11, 2006

Several years ago, there was a little girl who would often go with her father to visit her granny in the countryside. This girl and her granny were each other’s favorites, and they greatly enjoyed their time together. Living alone, the old woman kept a rooster and some hens, more for the company than anything else, and she became very attached to them, treating them almost as if they were her children. During her visits to her granny’s home, the girl would go outside to the yard and watch the rooster strut around in all of his self-importance as the hens paid him appropriate deference. As if that wasn’t annoying enough, at feeding time they would dutifully stand back and wait for the rooster to eat his fill before they themselves would begin eating whatever was left over. As her irritation continued to grow, the girl determined to put an end to this bird’s bullying, chauvinistic behavior and came up with a plan to liberate the hens. At feeding time the next day, she took a broom and cornered the rooster in order to allow them to eat first. The rooster, in a confused, indignant rage, flapped his wings, squawked, and tried to get past, but was unable to get at the food…his food. And the hens? Instead of eating first as the girl had wanted them to, they just passively stood by as they always did, now watching the struggle unfold before them. Frustrated at seeing that they had no intention of eating before the rooster, the little girl finally gave up on her plan and stopped blocking his way to the food. But after letting him go, the rooster didn’t feed. Nor did he feed the next day. The little girl’s granny, now worried for him, held him in her arms and tried feeding him, one grain of rice at a time, but it made no difference. He wasn’t interested in eating anymore. His image had been broken. Face had been lost. Despite all of her coddling and care, the rooster never recovered. When he died some days later, the little girl’s father laid the blame for what had happened squarely on her shoulders. Her granny, however, never did.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

What a sad story. Is it true? Or did you compose it?

10:55 PM, September 11, 2006  
Blogger Matt said...

Yes. It is a true story, as was told to me by the little girl (now an adult). After hearing it, I found myself thinking about it repeatedly and so decided to try to put it down as closely as I had heard it.

11:05 PM, September 11, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Its a sad and kind of hopeless message. Does it say that past practice rules and that hope for change is doomed and we are all slaves to the prevailing wisdom going back ad infinitem? Or is it just a story about domination and refusal to compromise and to accept compromise?

8:11 AM, September 12, 2006  
Blogger Matt said...

I couldn't help but try to interpret this story, in all sorts of analogous and allegorical ways, in the days after I'd heard it. I finally chose to look at it as a reflection of the human condition. How many of us have had the experience of trying to do good that, in the end, turned out to have exactly the opposite effect? Such is human nature. Such is life.

12:49 AM, September 13, 2006  

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