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TELL ME A STORY: KIKOS IN THE WELL (AN ARMENIAN FOLKTALE) ADAPTED BY AMY FRIEDMAN AND ILLUSTRATED BY JILLIAN GILLILAND
Times Herald-Record, NY
Aug. 28, 2006
Once upon a time, there lived a poor peasant and his wife and their
three daughters. One day the man returned from a long, hot day working
in the fields. He was thirsty, and so he sent his eldest daughter to
the well to fetch him a bucket of water.
Off she set, and when she reached the well, she looked up at the tree
that towered beside the well. She began to daydream.
"Someday I'll marry," she said aloud, "and my husband and I shall have
a son, and we'll name him Kikos after his grandfather. And one day
Kikos will walk to the well and climb this tree, and he will lose his
balance, fall and tumble into the well. Poor little Kikos will drown!"
And with this thought she collapsed in grief beside the well. "My son
Kikos," she wept, "Kikos with his hair of chestnut brown. Poor Kikos,
my son, one day will drown ..."
Now the distraught girl could not stop crying, and so upset was she
that she could not move. Back home the peasant waited, but when his
eldest daughter did not return with the water, he sent his second
daughter to find her.
When the second daughter saw her sister weeping by the well, she ran
to her side. "What's wrong, sister?" she asked.
The eldest daughter spoke through her tears. "Auntie of my child,"
she wailed, "your sweet nephew Kikos one day will be born, but poor
Kikos, with his hair of chestnut brown, will climb this tree and fall
and drown, and from that day on we shall mourn."
Now when the second daughter understood that the nephew she might
one day have, the boy named Kikos, could fall from the tall tree and
drown in this very well, leaving her an aunt mourning her nephew,
she too began to sob.
Time passed, and when the two daughters had not come home, the peasant
sent his youngest daughter to find out what the trouble was.
She ran to the well, and there she saw her sisters crying bitterly.
"What's happened? What can be wrong?" she asked.
The second daughter hiccupped through her sobs. "One day our sister
here is bound to marry, and our sister shall have a son, and this
will be our nephew, a boy of beauty and fun."
The third sister smiled delightedly.
"Oh no, you mustn't smile," said the second sister, "for our nephew,
Kikos by name, with hair of chestnut brown, one day will climb this
tree and fall, and in the well he'll drown!"
"No!" cried the third sister, and when she did not return home,
her mother ran to look for all three girls. She found them sitting
by the well, their eyes swollen from crying.
"My beautiful girls," she said, "what has happened to you?"
"Mother, mother, your own grandson, the child of your child, a boy
named Kikos, will one day climb up this tree. Imagine his smile,
his laughter, his glee. Imagine that hair, that rich chestnut brown,
and imagine poor Kikos falling here, Kikos drowned!"
"Woe is me!" the mother wept. "My favorite grandchild. Kikos, my
only boy!"
Now it was getting late, and the peasant could not imagine what could
take his women such a long time. So he pulled on his boots and trudged
all the way to the well. There he saw all four women, tears pouring
down their faces and noses so red, they seemed to be on fire.
"Grandfather! Poor man!" they cried when they saw the peasant.
"Good heavens, what is this all about?" he asked. "And who is
grandfather?"
"You, my sweet," said the peasant's wife, "your poor grandson, your
namesake Kikos, will one day climb this tree ..."
"Oh, grandfather, imagine Kikos, the boy of such wit and such glee ..."
"Like his grandfather Kikos, with thick hair, chestnut brown ..."
"But father, your grandson will fall ..."
"And he'll drown!" they wailed together.
Now the peasant began to understand, and he shook his head and
wondered what to do with his foolish women. But he loved them well,
and so he said, "There, there, you'll never bring our boy Kikos back
with your tears."
"Ahh, what shall we do, father?" asked the eldest daughter, whose heart
was nearly broken by the thought of losing her one and only future son.
"Come home with me," the peasant said, "and we shall invite the
neighbors to a feast in memory of our little Kikos. In this way our
son and grandson will live forever in everyone's memory."
And so the women became calm again, and all went home happily.
To learn more about Tell Me a Story and find out about the series'
just-released CD, go to: www.mythsandtales.com, or contact Amy Friedman
at [email protected].
http://www.recordonline.com /apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060828/LIFE/60828031 4
Times Herald-Record, NY
Aug. 28, 2006
Once upon a time, there lived a poor peasant and his wife and their
three daughters. One day the man returned from a long, hot day working
in the fields. He was thirsty, and so he sent his eldest daughter to
the well to fetch him a bucket of water.
Off she set, and when she reached the well, she looked up at the tree
that towered beside the well. She began to daydream.
"Someday I'll marry," she said aloud, "and my husband and I shall have
a son, and we'll name him Kikos after his grandfather. And one day
Kikos will walk to the well and climb this tree, and he will lose his
balance, fall and tumble into the well. Poor little Kikos will drown!"
And with this thought she collapsed in grief beside the well. "My son
Kikos," she wept, "Kikos with his hair of chestnut brown. Poor Kikos,
my son, one day will drown ..."
Now the distraught girl could not stop crying, and so upset was she
that she could not move. Back home the peasant waited, but when his
eldest daughter did not return with the water, he sent his second
daughter to find her.
When the second daughter saw her sister weeping by the well, she ran
to her side. "What's wrong, sister?" she asked.
The eldest daughter spoke through her tears. "Auntie of my child,"
she wailed, "your sweet nephew Kikos one day will be born, but poor
Kikos, with his hair of chestnut brown, will climb this tree and fall
and drown, and from that day on we shall mourn."
Now when the second daughter understood that the nephew she might
one day have, the boy named Kikos, could fall from the tall tree and
drown in this very well, leaving her an aunt mourning her nephew,
she too began to sob.
Time passed, and when the two daughters had not come home, the peasant
sent his youngest daughter to find out what the trouble was.
She ran to the well, and there she saw her sisters crying bitterly.
"What's happened? What can be wrong?" she asked.
The second daughter hiccupped through her sobs. "One day our sister
here is bound to marry, and our sister shall have a son, and this
will be our nephew, a boy of beauty and fun."
The third sister smiled delightedly.
"Oh no, you mustn't smile," said the second sister, "for our nephew,
Kikos by name, with hair of chestnut brown, one day will climb this
tree and fall, and in the well he'll drown!"
"No!" cried the third sister, and when she did not return home,
her mother ran to look for all three girls. She found them sitting
by the well, their eyes swollen from crying.
"My beautiful girls," she said, "what has happened to you?"
"Mother, mother, your own grandson, the child of your child, a boy
named Kikos, will one day climb up this tree. Imagine his smile,
his laughter, his glee. Imagine that hair, that rich chestnut brown,
and imagine poor Kikos falling here, Kikos drowned!"
"Woe is me!" the mother wept. "My favorite grandchild. Kikos, my
only boy!"
Now it was getting late, and the peasant could not imagine what could
take his women such a long time. So he pulled on his boots and trudged
all the way to the well. There he saw all four women, tears pouring
down their faces and noses so red, they seemed to be on fire.
"Grandfather! Poor man!" they cried when they saw the peasant.
"Good heavens, what is this all about?" he asked. "And who is
grandfather?"
"You, my sweet," said the peasant's wife, "your poor grandson, your
namesake Kikos, will one day climb this tree ..."
"Oh, grandfather, imagine Kikos, the boy of such wit and such glee ..."
"Like his grandfather Kikos, with thick hair, chestnut brown ..."
"But father, your grandson will fall ..."
"And he'll drown!" they wailed together.
Now the peasant began to understand, and he shook his head and
wondered what to do with his foolish women. But he loved them well,
and so he said, "There, there, you'll never bring our boy Kikos back
with your tears."
"Ahh, what shall we do, father?" asked the eldest daughter, whose heart
was nearly broken by the thought of losing her one and only future son.
"Come home with me," the peasant said, "and we shall invite the
neighbors to a feast in memory of our little Kikos. In this way our
son and grandson will live forever in everyone's memory."
And so the women became calm again, and all went home happily.
To learn more about Tell Me a Story and find out about the series'
just-released CD, go to: www.mythsandtales.com, or contact Amy Friedman
at [email protected].
http://www.recordonline.com /apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060828/LIFE/60828031 4