Part One: Nanyo's Oyster
"Nanyo, show me how to open the oyster again."
"I won’t do it, Keho. I have shown you too many times. It is time for you to do for yourself."
"Nanyo, if you show me how to open this oyster, I will watch closely and not ask you again."
"Keho, I have heard these words before. I will not show you."
"Nanyo, I am an old man, and hungry. If I cannot open this oyster, I will become weak, and will not have strength enough to feed my children."
"Keho, I have seen your children. They have know the way to open an oyster for many years. It is you who must learn for yourself now."
Keho set his catch bucket between his feet and looked down, rocking back and forth on the flat sandy shore ledge. "Nanyo, this is a little thing I ask. Show me again and then we can part company."
"Keho, we will surely part company, but you will depart with only your refusal to learn. I will not show you something again which I have showed so many times before."
Keho’s right hand reached up and rubbed his neck below his long grey ponytail and squinted far out over the waves with a worried look. "Nanyo, may I watch you as you open your own oysters?"
"Keho, yesterday I watched a mother bird and her baby in the village. The baby was old enough to leave the mother and to begin to feed and hunt for itself. The mother had a large fat worm which it dropped at the baby’s feet, but the baby would not eat for itself. The mother made motions to the worm with its head and beak, but the baby would only cry at her and crane its head to the sky above its mother. The baby only needed to bend down and eat, but it would not. The mother took the worm in its beak, and the baby cried louder, expecting finally to receive its meal. But the mother only dropped it again at the baby’s feet, and flew backwards away from the hungry baby. It flew to a branch above the baby for a moment, and then it was gone. When I left that place, the baby still cried to be fed, though it only needed to bend its head down and try."
At this, Nanyo picked up his bucket of oysters and began to walk away down the beach in the gathering wind. "Nanyo, would you please show me one last time?" Keho called quietly to him.
Nanyo slowly continued to walk, following the coast and listening to the rhythmic thump of his heavy sun-bleached bucket as it beat against his thigh.
Part Two: Nanyo's Exile. This is a follow up from an earlier post entitled Nanyo's Oyster
Many months after Nanyo and Keho parted ways, Nanyo still refused to learn the methods of harvesting from the sea. He continued to take his seat each night in the village longtable, but brought no harvest forward to share with the village elders and children.
Keho moved his nets further down the coast, and began recording the ocean’s temperaments and yields. Each day before casting his nets, he prayed that God would bless his efforts and allow his village to flourish, but he returned many days with very little to share. In a break with tradition, he launched a small raft each morning past the breaking waves, and cast his nets into areas further and further offshore.
Through it all, Keho knew he could only continue to try each day, and to remain faithful.
Many days passed, and summer’s unblemished mornings became mixed with fog. The village elders met more regularly now, and Keho waited quietly for news of a Kuthari, or exile. He’d lived through three, and each had driven away good men and women whom the village could no longer feed, and who no longer contributed to the nightly longtable. With winter approaching, Keho there was a very real chance he could be sent away.
Nanyo foresaw no such news, continuing instead to dig in the sand and gather shells, though his village no longer traded shells, nor had for many many seasons.
When the Kuthari was announced, Nanyo pointed to his many shells, but the elders pointed to their own piles, discarded after harvesting their oyster meat.
“Nanyo, all this time you have sought these shells, while it has been the meat we have needed so desperately needed at our longtable. Go now, take your shells and depart, and may you find a village which still values these shells as you do. Then you may find others with whom you may trade.”
Keho awoke the next morning and looked out from his small village hut. He’d made several small traps which he planned to test that morning, and weighted them down with crushed shells to ensure they’d settle quickly into deeper waters.
"Nanyo, show me how to open the oyster again."
"I won’t do it, Keho. I have shown you too many times. It is time for you to do for yourself."
"Nanyo, if you show me how to open this oyster, I will watch closely and not ask you again."
"Keho, I have heard these words before. I will not show you."
"Nanyo, I am an old man, and hungry. If I cannot open this oyster, I will become weak, and will not have strength enough to feed my children."
"Keho, I have seen your children. They have know the way to open an oyster for many years. It is you who must learn for yourself now."
Keho set his catch bucket between his feet and looked down, rocking back and forth on the flat sandy shore ledge. "Nanyo, this is a little thing I ask. Show me again and then we can part company."
"Keho, we will surely part company, but you will depart with only your refusal to learn. I will not show you something again which I have showed so many times before."
Keho’s right hand reached up and rubbed his neck below his long grey ponytail and squinted far out over the waves with a worried look. "Nanyo, may I watch you as you open your own oysters?"
"Keho, yesterday I watched a mother bird and her baby in the village. The baby was old enough to leave the mother and to begin to feed and hunt for itself. The mother had a large fat worm which it dropped at the baby’s feet, but the baby would not eat for itself. The mother made motions to the worm with its head and beak, but the baby would only cry at her and crane its head to the sky above its mother. The baby only needed to bend down and eat, but it would not. The mother took the worm in its beak, and the baby cried louder, expecting finally to receive its meal. But the mother only dropped it again at the baby’s feet, and flew backwards away from the hungry baby. It flew to a branch above the baby for a moment, and then it was gone. When I left that place, the baby still cried to be fed, though it only needed to bend its head down and try."
At this, Nanyo picked up his bucket of oysters and began to walk away down the beach in the gathering wind. "Nanyo, would you please show me one last time?" Keho called quietly to him.
Nanyo slowly continued to walk, following the coast and listening to the rhythmic thump of his heavy sun-bleached bucket as it beat against his thigh.
Part Two: Nanyo's Exile. This is a follow up from an earlier post entitled Nanyo's Oyster
Many months after Nanyo and Keho parted ways, Nanyo still refused to learn the methods of harvesting from the sea. He continued to take his seat each night in the village longtable, but brought no harvest forward to share with the village elders and children.
Keho moved his nets further down the coast, and began recording the ocean’s temperaments and yields. Each day before casting his nets, he prayed that God would bless his efforts and allow his village to flourish, but he returned many days with very little to share. In a break with tradition, he launched a small raft each morning past the breaking waves, and cast his nets into areas further and further offshore.
Through it all, Keho knew he could only continue to try each day, and to remain faithful.
Many days passed, and summer’s unblemished mornings became mixed with fog. The village elders met more regularly now, and Keho waited quietly for news of a Kuthari, or exile. He’d lived through three, and each had driven away good men and women whom the village could no longer feed, and who no longer contributed to the nightly longtable. With winter approaching, Keho there was a very real chance he could be sent away.
Nanyo foresaw no such news, continuing instead to dig in the sand and gather shells, though his village no longer traded shells, nor had for many many seasons.
When the Kuthari was announced, Nanyo pointed to his many shells, but the elders pointed to their own piles, discarded after harvesting their oyster meat.
“Nanyo, all this time you have sought these shells, while it has been the meat we have needed so desperately needed at our longtable. Go now, take your shells and depart, and may you find a village which still values these shells as you do. Then you may find others with whom you may trade.”
Keho awoke the next morning and looked out from his small village hut. He’d made several small traps which he planned to test that morning, and weighted them down with crushed shells to ensure they’d settle quickly into deeper waters.
This is true. The world will not stop its rotation for any man. We are all responsible to learn when we are presented something new, we are never told when life's pop quiz is coming. Hmmm... I should probably get back to studying.
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