Robert's Raves

Why, Oh Why, Oh Why
by Robert Rodriguez

here is a certain tale from Serbia which tells how, in the very beginning, there was only God, and he slept, and when he slept, he dreamed of many things. Eventually he awoke and decided to begin creating the very things of which he had dreamed, so he began to travel from place to place in the heavens, creating sun, moon and stars, among other celestial objects. When he came to where the earth was to be, he made all things that are with us today, and eventually he made his crowning creation, man himself. But in so doing, a drop of sweat fell from his brow upon man’s face, and so it was ordained that man would not be a creature of mirth and frolic, but would spend his days working by the very sweat of his brow, and thus it was been to this very day.

This tale is an example of what is known in folklore as a "why" or "Pourquoi" story, or an origin tale, as some would call it. "Why" stories may explain a host of things: why human beings tell stories to one another, why the sea is salt, why leopards only hunt on one side of a jungle path, why all stories are spider stories. Origin stories may be as grand and cosmic as to tell why immortality was taken away from mankind, why the earth and sky are separated from one another, or why certain stellar constellations are placed where they are in the heavens; or they may be as specific and localized as to explain how Reel-Foot Lake came into being in northwestern Tennessee, how the Polish city of Crackow came to be, or how the circle of standing stones came into being in the town on Stanton Drew in the English county of Somerset.

It should be no surprise that Old Nick, the very devil himself, is at the center of many origin stories. In Mexico they tell how, after God had finished creating mankind, he decided to celebrate with the first wine harvest. The devil asked if he could help, God promptly told him to get lost, and off went El Diable muttering that he would get his revenge good and proper. When God wasn’t looking, the devil took four animals, killed them, and secretly mixed their blood into the celestial vineyard; the animals were a dove, monkey, lion and pig. Too late did God realize the permanent damage that had been done, for drunkenness had been introduced into the world. When men take the first drink, they become mild and mellow like a dove; the second drink makes them caper foolishly like a monkey; the third drink turns them into fiery beasts like unto lions; and the final drink turns men into swine lying in the gutter. And so the curse of alcohol came to plague humanity, and so sorrowful is this tale that when it is told, Mexican storytellers often add the phrase que mala soerte, what terrible luck, oh misery me. According to a British legend, the devil managed to sneak aboard Noah’s ark in the form of a rat, and before Noah could throw him out, he had bored a great big hole in the side of the ark. First Mrs. Noah stuck her elbow into the hole to stem the flow of water; when that did not work, Noah took one of the two dogs he had brought aboard and stuck its nose into the hole, but still the water kept coming. Finally, Noah took off his coat and placed his back against the hole, while his sons sealed it tight around him. Ever since then, it had been that women have cold elbows, dogs have cold noses, and men take off their costs and put their backs to a warm fire.

Some of the most intriguing "why" stories involve how certain cultural traits that certain groups claim to be their own came into being. The gypsies of the world tell a story that during Christ’s crucifixion, a passing gypsy stole the very nail intended for Jesus’ own heart, and for this mercy, it is said God gave the race of the Rom two gifts: first, they would be allowed to steal anything that was not nailed down, and second, they would be the only group in the world to be immune to the devil’s own fiddle. There are some gypsies who add a further element to the legend, which says that when the devil discovered what God had done. he became so angry at being thwarted that he also pronounced a decree and a doom upon all gypsies: they would forever have all men’s hands raised against them, they would be outcasts among the nations, and their only constant friend would be the indifferent and cruel roads and byways across the world upon which they could perpetually wander, never knowing any permanent place they could call home. There is an Irish tale which tells how a clever fellow once got into hell itself, stole the devil’s own hammer and cooking cauldron and took them right to the throne of God himself. The big bossman was so impressed that he offered the fellow any wish he wanted, to which the Irishman asked that all Irish storytellers be accounted the best in the world. That is why, so the Irish say, they have the gift of gab and are the finest tells of tales anywhere on earth. There is an Armenian story which tells how a clever peasant once engaged the angel of death in a riddle contest that lasted three days and nights. After being bested in the contest, the angel returned to God, telling him that he had never met such a clever fellow before in his travels. God was so impressed that he decreed that from that day forth, Armenians would be given cunning and craft in all matters dealing with trade, commerce and all matters mercantile.

Animals, their physical appearance and characteristics, often play a central role in many origin stories, from the African-American tale of why dogs and cats hate one another, to the Siberian tale of why there is eternal enmity between foxes and wolves, to the Scandinavian story of how the bear lost its once glorious tail. A legend from the Breton tradition tells how once a very clever fox, all in the space of one afternoon, managed to outwit not only God, but the devil and the angel of death at one and the same time. God was at first inclined to punish the impudent fellow, but after thinking it over, he decided to decree that all foxes would be considered kings of cunning, guile and craft far above their own physical size from that day forward, and that all other animals would recognize this trait in the fox, his kith and kin, and all his descendants. The pigeons once decided to leave Haiti and an enterprising turtle wished to travel with them, but as they flew over the coast, Mr. Turtle couldn’t keep his mouth shut and had to wave goodbye to family and friends, thus causing him to fall to the ground, cracking his shell, and thus resulting in the fact that to this day, turtles still live in Haiti, but pigeons now live in New York. Until recent times, the Irish and other Celtic peoples ritually hunted the tiny bird known as the wren on December 26, the feast of Saint Stephen. Two origins for this ritual are given in tradition: a wren, it is said, betrayed Saint Stephen to his Roman pursuers; also, a wren betrayed a band of Irish rebels to a band of British soldiers pursuing them. The Irish, however, still revere the wren as the king of all birds, because of its trickery over the eagle in the flying contest to determine who would be king over all the birds of the air.

There are many other types of "why" stories in the realm of world folk literature. They may tell how certain musical instruments came into being, such as the Vietnamese butterfly harp, the Korean harp-like Kayagum, or the triple harp from Wales. They may tell how lakes, rivers, mountains or islands originated, or how peculiar formations of stones were created.

Let us therefore conclude just as we began, with a "why" story. This one is of modern origin, and has taken on the form of a popular joke in the upper midwest, where it is often told as a Scandinavian dialect story by regional storytellers. A fellow of rather diminutive size walks into a lumber camp somewhere in northern Minnesota and asks to be hired to help cut down trees. Most of the crew, who are almost twice his size and could probably eat him for breakfast without a second thought, laugh out loud, until the foreman decides to humor the would-be recruit and tells him to chop away if he can. Taking a nearby ax the little fellow proceeds to chop down one, two, three, four and so on, until he has ten trees lying on the ground. He is given a bigger ax, then an even bigger one, and the chopping goes on for over an hour without the little fellow even raising a sweat. Both foreman and crew are more than impressed, and eventually welcome the little man into their ranks. "Where did you work previously?" asks the foreman with awe in his voice. "The Sahara forest," replies the new lumberjack with a hint of a smile in his voice. "I think you are mistaken," says the Boss, "you must mean the Sahara desert." "It may be a desert now, but once upon a time…"

—published in WIP Winter 1997

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