THE MAGIC GARDEN

A KAZAKH FOLKTALE

There were two neighbours who became very good friends. One man was a farmer.

He had a small plot of land but fertile enough to grow crops. His neighbour had only a stony piece of land. On his land he grazed sheep.

One year a disease spread through all the land, the sheep all became ill and died.

The sheepherder went to his friend to bid him goodbye.

“My sheep have all died. I have no way to earn a living on this stony ground now. I must leave this place. Perhaps I can find some menial job in the city. If not, I will have to beg for my living.”

But his friend the farmer would not let the sheepherder go.

“You will stay here. I will give you half of my land and you can farm alongside me.”

“You cannot do that. You have a small farm already. You must not give half of it away.”

“You are my friend and I want you to stay. I am glad to share with you. There will be less for me, yes. But I will have enough to survive. You must accept.”

So the sheepherder stayed.

The two friends farmed side by side for many years. Then one day when the sheepherder was digging in his land, he unearthed a pot of gold coins. He ran to his friend the farmer.

“What luck! You are RICH! Look at what I have found!”

But the farmer would not take the gold.

“Nonsense. It is YOU who are rich. The gold was found on your land.”

“But when you gave me the land, you did not know there was gold buried there. You surely did not mean to give me all that was IN the land. The gold is yours.”

The two friends began to argue. For the first time they could not agree. At last they went to the village wise man for help in their dispute.

The wise man was teaching four students when they arrived. When he had heard the problem he turned to his students.

“Here is a good case for you to discuss. Neither of these men will accept the gold. How would you resolve this?”

The first student said,

“It is simple. The gold was found in the ground. Neither of these men will claim the gold. So put the gold back in the ground and forget it.”

The wise man turned to the second student. “And how would you resolve this case?”

“These men have brought the gold to you for a judgement. What is brought to the court belongs to the court. You should keep the gold.”

“And you?” he turned to the third student.

“The gold was found in the ground. The ground is in the kingdom. The kingdom belongs to the Khan. The gold therefore belongs to the Khan. It should be taken to him at once.”

“What do you say?” he asked of the fourth student.

“The gold is here, yet neither of these men will claim it. I suggest that the gold be used for the benefit of all. With this gold there could be built a garden for the poor.

This garden could be filled with flowers to delight the eyes.

This garden could be planted with trees which would shade the poor.

This garden could be planted with sweet fruit to nourish them.

This garden could hold cool pools of clear water. From these the poor might drint without fear of becoming sick.

The wise man turned to the two men. Which of these ideas do you prefer?

They looked at one another and then replied, “The garden, we like the garden. Let this young man take the gold and fulfil his vision.”

“Go to the city of the Khan,” said the wise man to the student.

“Take this gold and buy the most wonderful seeds. Here is a plot of ground. Return and create your garden.”

So the student set out. It was a long, dusty trail to the Khan’s royal city. But he sustained himself on the way with his vision. He saw before him the beautiful garden which he would create.

When the student reached the Khan’s city he was surrounded by merchants shouting on every side. He felt confused and lost. But, after asking directions, he at last found the seed merchants. He was just about to select his seeds when he saw a camel train slowly winding its way down the narrow streets.

The camels were hung with live birds. The birds were slung by their feet from the camels’ sides. Their feathers were caked with dust. At every step the camels took, the dangling heads of the birds thunked against the camels’ sides.

The young man’s heart turned when he saw this sight. Without stopping to think he stepped in front of the caravan.

“Where are you taking these birds?”

“These are for the table of the Khan,” said the camel driver.

“I have here the most rare birds in the kingdom. Some have been trapped on high mountains, some in distant jungle, others from far-off seashores. The Khan will decorate his palace with their bright feathers. He and his court will feast on their sweet meat. Some of these birds are the last of their kind. Only the Khan is rich enough to possess such birds!”

“I will buy these birds.”

“Step aside,” snorted the camel driver.

“No. I have gold. I will buy them.”

The young man opened his bag and showed the gold. The camel driver’s eyes lit up. It was more than even the Khan would have paid for the birds. The camel driver took the gold and counted it.

The young student began to untie the birds. One by one the birds spread their wings and flew off. But some of the birds were too stunned by this ordeal to fly. These he lay by the side of the road. When all had been released he began to stroke the weaker birds, gently removing the dust from their feathers. He massaged their little bodies until their hearts grew stronger. And one by one they, too, took to the air and flew away.

Then the young man turned back toward his village. His heart felt so warm from this thing that he had done.

But as he came closer and closer to his village he realised just what he had done.

He had spent the gold… the money that was to buy seeds. Now there would be no garden for the poor. The money had not been his to spend.

When he reached the spot where the garden would have been, he sat down and wept.

“What have I done? Now there will be no garden for the poor. And yet I had to save those birds.”

A small bird was sitting nearby. It cocked its head and listened. Then the bird flew off.

Soon the air was filled with the sound of bird wings. The young man looked up to find himself surrounded with birds. Brilliant feathers filled the sky! More and more birds glided down toward him.

“Do not cry,” said the birds. “You saved us. Now let us help you. We cannot return the gold you spent. But we can help you with your dream for a garden.”

The birds began to peck at the ground. They began to roll stones away and to prepare the soil. And while the smaller birds were doing this task, the largest birds flew off to distant lands. There they filled their beaks with the most precious seeds they could find. By the time they returned, the soil was ready. Gently the birds planted the seeds. Then they flew off to the stream to bring water for the plants.

Now smaller birds dug spaces for ponds within the garden, while the larger birds flew high into the mountains, bringing back cool, clear water to fill the pools.

Then a wondrous thing happened. The birds began to fan the seeds with their wings and to blow on them with their hot breath. Before the young man’s eyes, the seeds began to sprout. They grew quickly, emerging from the ground and reaching out with their green shoots. As he watched, the flowers budded and began to bloom. Trees grew to full height right before his eyes. They spread their branches, they blossomed, their fruit grew and ripened, and the trees hung with golden apples. Not the kind of golden apple that you only admire, but the kind from which you can eat and be nourished.

Word of this wondrous garden spread like wildfire. The rich landlords jumped onto their horses and galloped to the spot. They assumed that such a rich garden should belong to them.

But when the rich landlords galloped up they saw that a wall of stone had risen around the garden. There was an iron gate with seven locks. And when the rich men arrived, the iron gate swung shut. And the seven locks locked themselves. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7… the locks clicked shut. The rich could not enter the garden. They tried every which way to get into the garden, but to no avail. Finally they gave up and left.

After a while the poor began to arrive. They had to walk to reach the garden, so it took them some time to get there. But when they came stumbling toward the gate, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7… the locks clicked open. And the iron gates swung wide.

The poor walked into the garden. All day they strolled cool paths and rested on green lawns. The flowers delighted their eyes and soothed their souls. They plucked the golden apples from the trees and were nourished. They drank the cool water in the pools and it did not make them sick. In the evening they went back to their homes refreshed.

But some had no homes to go to. These homeless folk lingered in the garden. And then another wondrous thing happened. As darkness fell the gates of the garden swung closed again. And the seven locks fell into place. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7… the locks clicked shut.

And all inside were protected for the night.

Then the golden apples began to glow with a gentle light. The birds settled down in the trees and began to sing a sweet lullaby. And the people lay down on the soft grass cradled in the warmth of the garden, and fell asleep.

Such is the Kazakh story of the magic garden of the poor…which grew because of one young man.