As he held a classroom at
a village, Jìzi sees the wife of an old friend waiting for him outside the
house he was at. The woman’s name was Shòushòu whose husband died several
months ago.
After the lesson Jìzi met
with Shòushòu. The widow bowed her head in respectful greeting.
“Please pardon my sudden visit,
teacher,” she apologized.
“I’m sure there is
something important you wish to discuss.”
“Yes, well, you see,” Shòushòu
explained, “when my husband was alive, he went about helping the community to
the point of borrowing money to assist those in need. When our sons became ill
my husband borrowed even more that by the time, we were having his funeral the
money collectors came. I was planning on leaving this place in the middle of
the night, but my sons are still too ill to travel, I am not sure what to do.”
“There must be something
that could be done,” Jìzi stroked his chin in reflection. “Do you have
something of value in your house?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even a comb?”
“Well, we do have a bit
of sesame oil.”
“Then, let us do this.
Got to your neighbours and borrow as many jars as you can. And when I mean
many, I mean lots.”
“Jars? You mean, clay
jars?”
Jìzi nodded. “Now, once
you have collected the jars, you and your sons will go into your house and shut
the door. Take whatever sesame oil you have and pour it into one of the empty
jars.”
After visiting the
teacher, Shòushòu went to her neighbours and borrowed jars. Once the jars were
collected, she and her sons entered their home and closed the door. Taking the
bottle of sesame oil in her hand the widow began transferring it into one of
the empty jars.
“What are you doing,
Mother?” the younger son asked.
“I am transferring the
oil into one of these jars.”
“Can we help?”
“I could change the full
jar with another empty one,” the eldest offered.
“I’ll bring the empty
ones,” the younger son said.
Before they know it, the
little oil in the bottle kept flowing into the empty jar soon filling to the
brim.
“It’s full!”
“Here’s another jar.”
“This one’s full too. Hurry,
bring me another.”
“But that’s the last one,”
the moment the younger son said this the oil emptied into the jar stopping just
at its brim.
The next morning, Shòushòu
visited Jìzi and told him what happened the other day.
“Our house is filled with
jars of oil,” she told him in wonder.
“Take that oil and sell
it. With that money pay off your debts, whatever is left buy your sons’
medicine.”
And so, with the money
she made with the sesame oil, Shòushòu was able to pay off her debt and buy the
medicine to help her sons. The sons, thanks to the medicine, recovered and were
able to take care of their mother until the end of her days.
As I have mentioned previously, I am a daughter of Japanese immigrants. This means that I speak Japanese at home and English outside of ho...
