The monk and the gypsy

LongBeard the gnome was sitting inside a hollow tree trunk having a mint drink with his friend Antsy. Antsy was a black ant, renowned for his energy and hard working attitude. Today, however, Antsy was in a sober mood. He had asked LongBeard to meet him, so that he might interpret a strange dream he had had the night before.

Antsy told LongBeard about the dream. “Hmmm,” mused LongBeard, puffing on his harmless herbacco pipe. "Write down the 6 most important words from your dream." After Antsy had done that, LongBeard instructed him: “Now ask your unconscious mind for 6 words in the place of those ones and write them down.” Antsy did as he was told. Again LongBeard repeated this instruction, and Antsy wrote down a third set of words on a piece of bark. He gave the words to LongBeard.

For a long time LongBeard looked at the words, silently puffing on his pipe. Antsy waited patiently for he knew it would be worth the wait.

Then at last LongBeard said, “Antsy, I am going to tell you a story about a human, and in this story you will find the hidden meaning of your dream. Here is your story:

The disobedient young monk wrapped his black cloak tightly around him and climbed out the window. He was very quiet for fear of waking someone up who might sound the alarm and force him back inside again.

He heard the melancholic voice singing faintly in the distance. The voice had been haunting him every night for a month and he could stand the suspense no longer. He simply had to find out who it was out there, who was singing so soulfully.

When he had asked his friend what he thought of the song his friend had reproached him for being a faithless, no-good monk who lusted after sex in stead of concentrating on his spiritual growth. The young monk had been aghast at this response, as he had had no such carnal intents at all. He had stopped confiding in his friend and had decided to go and explore the matter on his own, regardless of the consequences.

Softly he tiptoed through the dark night, until at last he came to an opening in the forest. There was a small group of gypsies who seemed to have put up a temporary camp. One man was playing guitar, while the woman who leant against him sang the haunting tunes which had so magnetically attracted him. The monk sat down in the darkness, invisible to all in his black cloak, and listened in silence.

After a long time, the couple stopped their music and started preparing for bed. The monk left as quietly as he had arrived, taking care not to give his presence away. He walked back to the monastery and climbed through the window. All was quiet, no-one had noticed his absence.

Satisfied, he hung his cloak on a hook, said his prayers and got into bed.

All he had wanted to do was to see who the beautiful melancholic voice had belonged to. And now that he knew, he was at peace, quietly content to continue living in the monastery.”

Acknowledgements: www.blazelightaround.co.uk, isabellasrealm.com, kasovo.net, eliznok.org.uk, flickr.com, travel.webshots, crossforest, home-and-garden webshots, nydailynews.com, millymoney.com, marketplace.veer.com

LongBeard Story Copyright © Susan Bellingan Fourie

Tommy has German Measles

It was midwinter and freezing cold outside. LongBeard and the rest of the gnome community were deep underground in their warm and cosy gnome-holes. They loved all the different seasons and winter was no exception. This was their favourite story telling time and LongBeard always entertained them with stories which had some interesting information about humans.

The gnomes were sitting and lying about on the soft rabbit fur and poofs in their West Oak Root lounge. Suddenly they noticed LongBeard touching his nose with his left index finger. They immediately quietened down and listen attentively, as they knew this was the cue that he was about to start telling a story. LongBeard cleared his throat and held his harmless herbacco pipe in his right hand, while gently gazing at his fellow gnomes.

“Tonight I would like to tell you about a disease that used to bring about much despair to the human world:

The little boy was playing quietly on the carpet with his toy cars.

It was a school day, but he had German Measles and had been told by the doctor to stay at home. The doctor had said that the illness was caused by a virus and that he could go back to school within three days. He did not feel very sick, but his parents had explained to him that this virus can spread from infected to healthy people, causing them to also “catch the virus”. They told him that it was particularly dangerous for pregnant women to get German Measles, as it could cause their babies to be born blind, or have other serious problems.

Tommy was an inquisitive little boy and wanted to know more about this contagious illness. He parents patiently explained that the infectious illness called German Measles is caused by the rubella virus. In Tommy’s case, he had started with a mild fever, and then some pink and light red spots appeared, first on his face, and then on his arms and the rest of his body.

Little Tommy did not want anyone to get the illness from him and he certainly did not want any babies to be born blind! He was a considerate child and understood that even though he was longing to have friends visiting him, his best friend Luke would not be able to be with him while his state was contagious.

Luke’s mother was pregnant and they were worried that if Luke caught this highly infectious virus from Tommy, he might in turn pass it on to his mother!

Luke’s parents were very rich, but they had learnt over the years that wealth cannot buy good health. They were well known in the community for their intelligence and common sense approach to life. Luke’s father was a doctor and part of a special team of people who were busy developing a vaccine against German Measles. They knew that if they could vaccinate babies against this disease, they could stop the development and spreading of this illness in people, thus minimising the risk to unborn babies.

As Tommy was playing with his police car, he started dreaming about the day he would be grown up and could become a policeman, a protector of people. He was quite a serious little boy, and although he was only 6 years old, he had a well developed sense of right and wrong.

He felt that he was doing the right thing by staying at home now, in stead of spreading an illness. He knew that if each person in the community behaved responsibly towards their health, all members of society would benefit.”

Acknowledgement: www.turnunitingchurch.org.au, skinsight.com, http://www.blazelightaround.co.uk/pages/dreamblazer.php, livelink.saintlukeshealthsystem.org

LongBeard story Copyright © Susan Bellingan Fourie

LongBeard and Puffy the Bullfrog

Chapter 1

It was early March, autumn time in Riversdale, South Africa.

The South Western Cape, where Riversdale nestles against the Langeberg Mountains, is a winter rainfall area. Clouds had begun gathering since the beginning of the month, and every night a chorus of frogs could be heard, loudly calling to their mates as the summer breeding season was drawing to a close.

LongBeard had a particularly good friend amongst the frogs, a handsome bachelor bullfrog by the name of Puffy. Puffy was born on the Highveld, a summer rainfall area in the northern parts of South Africa. He was captured when he was still a little tadpole, rescued in fact, by a little boy who saw him in a mud pool which was fast running dry. The little boy had kept him in a water dish and looked after the froglet as a pet. In those days there were many frogs, and it was legal for people to keep them as pets.

Puffy enjoyed staying with the little boy, whose name was Sean. Sean loved him, and took meticulous care of him in every way – he ensured that there was enough food, he built a special little cage for Puffy with soil in it, so that he could burrow into it as bullfrogs do. Puffy was young, and while food and shelter were his only concerns, he never longed for others of his kind.

One day Sean loaded Puffy and the cage into the back of the family car. Puffy thought nothing of it, as he regularly traveled with Sean whenever they went on long holidays. However, this time, there seemed to be a lot of baggage, and they traveled for a very long time - from dawn to sunset. Finally they arrived at their new destination. Puffy was carefully unloaded and placed in the laundry room, until Sean found a safe place outside to keep him.

They were now in Riversdale. Puffy immediately noticed that the air was different – even though it was midsummer, the air was dry and he could not smell any rain. He knew this would be foreign to his natural habitat. Puffing himself up, he let out the odd “whoooop, whoooop,” but there was no reply from other bullfrogs. Puffy had been moved to an area where bullfrogs were not usually found, due to the dry summers and cold wet winters. Sean brought along some fat flies and crickets, and soon Puffy's attention was completely focused on food.

Puffy was a good friend to Sean. He allowed him to pick him up, stroke him, even kiss him! When Sean held him near the window, he caught flies with his long sticky tongue. This always seemed to amuse and delight Sean. He invited his new friends over to see Puffy and they all laughed at the way Puffy caught little insects as fast as the blink of an eye, his sticky tongue shooting out to catch his prey. Puffy lived happily with Sean for another two years in their new home. During this time he would occasionally call out, but he never got a reply. He seemed to be the only bullfrog in the whole of Riversdale.

Then, one day, a tearful Sean fetched him, held him close to his chest and cried miserably. Puffy wondered what on earth could have upset the child so much. He did not have to wait long before Sean confided in him. “My dad says I must let you go,” he sobbed. “There is a new law which prohibits people from keeping bullfrogs. He says the police will give me a big fine and take you away if they find you with me. It is no use trying to keep it a secret because too many people know about you. There is a nice place at the golf club where we think you might be happy. It has a little stream and also a

natural hollow in the grass on the golf course with some water in it most of the year. What do you think?” Puffy wasn’t really sure how to respond, but as Sean appeared to have learnt some simple frog language over the years, Puffy said, “Croak” and “Whoooop, Whoooop.” Sean stared at him. “You mean you are prepared to give it a try?” he asked. “Do you think maybe you will find a mate?” “Croak,” replied Puffy. “Whoooop, whoooop,” he blew excitedly and gave two little hops. Sean started laughing. “Now I feel much better,” he said. “Let us go and have a look at the spot and you can let me know if you would like to stay there.”

Without further ado, Sean told his mother about his plans and loaded Puffy into a special shoebox with holes. He carefully placed the box on his bicycle carrier and rode down to the golf club. Over the wooden railway bridge and down the gravel road they went. Every now and again Puffy called out, “Whoooop, Whoooop!” just in case there was another bullfrog around. In all these years, no-one had ever replied, and today was no exception. He was quite satisfied though, as Sean usually took him to interesting places where there was lots of food.

Sean rode to the spot on the golf course which his dad had told him about. The dog-leg shaped fairway on the 4th hole had a natural hollow on one side, closest to the river. Sean placed Puffy in the shallow hollow and let him splash around in the lukewarm water. Then he took him to the little river and let him swim in the cool, clear mountain water. Sean noticed a large red and white toadstool on the other side of the stream and wondered dreamily if there were elves, fairies and gnomes about. He had heard stories of such creatures and wondered if they were true. Puffy wemt over to the toadstool and hopped around it, twisting his head this way and that, making soft sounds, as if he were communicating with something or someone invisible to Sean. Sean was fascinated.

“What is it old boy?” he called out. “Who is there?” Puffy hopped back to Sean and straight into his hands. “Time to go home, I guess,” Sean said softly, stroking Puffy’s warty back. “You are probably hungry after all this exercise!” He loaded him into his box and on the carrier at the back of the bicycle. At home he made sure to feed Puffy nice fat flies and some crickets which the gardener had caught earlier. The gardener always put the crickets in a special glass bottle for Puffy. He had made some small holes in the metal lid so that the crickets and other insects would not suffocate. He enjoyed helping Sean to find food for Puffy, as all gardeners know that frogs are their friends , because they keep the garden free from malicious insects.

That night Sean told his dad what had happened at the golf club. “You’re a good boy,” he said, stroking Sean’s hair. “I know this is hard for you and I am proud that you are doing the right thing.” Sean and his dad did not know that bullfrogs weren’t normally found in this area and they were under the impression that Puffy would easily find a mate. “You know Puffy well; take him down to that same spot every day until you see he is ready to settle.”

Sean followed his dad’s advice and every afternoon after he had done his homework, he took Puffy down to the golf course. On these occasions Puffy would call out, but there was never any reply from other bullfrogs. Puffy seemed fascinated by the large red and white toadstool, which, unlike other toadstools and mushrooms, never seemed to wilt or even grow bigger, almost as if it were a little house!

Eventually the day arrived when Sean noticed that Puffy was ready to stay. Puffy had used his strong hind legs to burrow a hole near an orange toadstool, some distance from the red and white one. Sean knew that this meant that Puffy was ready to go into estivation, and that he would only come out of the hole after it had rained at least 50mm. He felt satisfied, knowing that Puffy would insulate himself in a natural cocoon, which would protect him from the elements and from harmful prey. Sean knew that Puffy would be comfortable until the rain dissolved this protective covering. The dissolving cocoon would then become food for him and the rain would be his signal to come above ground again.

“Good-bye Puffy,” Sean called. “I love you! Thank you for having been my friend”. Puffy was now four years old and a beautiful mature bullfrog, dull green in colour, with a pronounced yellow throat. “And if there are any gnomes about, which I can’t see, please look after Puffy!” Little did he know that LongBeard was waving at him from the toadstool, but he somehow felt as if all was well. With a song in his heart, knowing that he had done the right thing, he climbed on his bicycle and rode back home.

He went back once a week to check on Puffy, but the earth remained undisturbed as Puffy continued to rest underground. After a couple of months, Sean’s father was transferred again, and the family moved to Cape Town. Sean was no longer able to check on his old friend, but he somehow knew that he would be fine. Chapter 2

Sean was quite right. On their first visit to the golf course, Puffy had spotted LongBeard sitting on his red and white toadstool. Animals find it easy to see gnomes, and to converse with them. He had told LongBeard the whole story and LongBeard advised that he would help him settle in. As Puffy was new to the wild, LongBeard told him about natural enemies, such as birds, snakes, other reptiles and dogs, and how to hide away from them. LongBeard understood the advantage of Puffy staying underground during the cold winter and advised him to burrow really deep into the soil, so that the winter rain would not dissolve his protective cocoon. He also advised that he would show him where the ponds were, which held water during the dry summer months.

Lastly he showed him a spot near the orange toadstool where he could burrow. This spot was close enough to the water, yet above the line of danger when the little stream became a flooding river during the rainy season. Puffy asked if LongBeard had ever seen any other bullfrogs, and LongBeard said he had not, but would enquire from his cousins, the water gnomes who lived under the railway bridge.

LongBeard’s cousins reported that they had not seen any bullfrogs either, but that in turn they would ask their cousins who lived further up in the mountains. Before they could get back to LongBeard with a reply, the first storm of the season was upon them. It poured down with rain, the river swelled up and rushed down from the mountain to the sea. The gnomes went deep underground and LongBeard was thankful that he had told Puffy to burrow down deeply as well.

On and on it rained, one inch, two inches, two and a half inches of rain within one week! The soil was drenched, the rivers flooding and the dams filling up fast. At last the rain stopped and LongBeard and his friends went above ground again. The earth was looking beautiful and clean, the smell of wet soil and leaves strong in the air.

LongBeard immediately went to check on Puffy. Puffy was gnawing at his wet cocoon, and getting ready to come above ground. As it was still early March, the weather was pleasantly warm. Suddenly a river gnome came swimming along the river. These gnomes swim as fast as birds fly and it makes no difference to them whether they swim upstream or downstream. “A bullfrog!” he cried out. “A bullfrog was washed down by the river! We rescued her and she is staying with us under the railway bridge.” LongBeard smiled. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, “I will pass on the news”.

Puffy had come above ground and was in the process of shedding his old skin. LongBeard marveled at how shiny and clean he now looked. Frogs have a habit of shedding their old skins frequently, transforming themselves into beautiful, glossy specimens. That night, as the two friends sat talking about the weather, they suddenly heard an unfamiliar sound coming from the natural water hazard on the 4th hole of the golf course. It sounded as if someone was tapping out a rhythm on a hollow piece of wood. Puffy stopped catching mosquitoes and listened carefully.

Then he puffed himself up and called, “Whoooop, whoooop!” The knocking grew stronger and more insistent. “That is a female bullfrog calling,” whispered Puffy, who had instinctively recognised the sound.

“Let us go and have a look,” said LongBeard, who had been munching on a large strawberry. He hopped onto Puffy’s back and wrapped his long beard around the frog’s neck so that he could hold on to it for safety.

Riding on Puffy’s back was a bit like riding on a bucking bronco, as Puffy took gigantic leaps across the river. In some places Puffy swam strongly and LongBeard had to hold on tightly not to be swept off his back by the current. At last they got to the other side and Puffy continued to follow the rhythmic tapping sound.

Although he had never met another bullfrog, he somehow intuitively knew that this was the calling sound of the female bullfrog. Every now and again he stopped and called, “Whoooop, Whoooop!” The deep, soft sound carried far and was responded to every time by renewed tapping.

As they got closer to the water pool, Puffy stopped hopping and crept forward cautiously. And there the female bullfrog was, sitting on a piece of wood next to the water, dull green like Puffy, but with a cream coloured throat, looking elegant and ladylike as she stared at them with her bulging eyes.

Slowly, LongBeard unravelled his beard from Puffy’s neck and slid down his back. “There you go boy,” he whispered, “there’s your mate.” Puffy needed no more encouragement, and hopped closer to his new friend.

For a moment LongBeard scanned the surroundings, just to make sure that both frogs were safe. Then he drilled straight down and went underground, as gnomes do. Once underground he was able to go through the earth very fast beneath the river, and come up in the tunnel under the red and white toadstool. He climbed on top of the toadstool and lit his herbacco pipe.

"And so," he mused, "the transformational cycle continues."

Picture Acknowledgement: Google Images (bullfrogenvironmental.com, generalexotics.com, wikiwak.com, yourneedtoknow.com, fwie.fw.vt.edu, richard-seaman.com, geog.ubc.ca, depts.washington.edu, share.triangle.com, Steven G Johnson, saskschools.ca, ), Shani Grove

Amelia Collapses

It was a cold winter’s night. The frost lay thick on the ground and the gnomes were cosily tucked away in their warm burrows deep underground. Winter time was story telling time, and after supper the gnomes from West Oak Root used to gather in the large living room. LongBeard was known as a master story teller, and he often used stories to teach them about new things. On this night, he decided to talk about the benefits of support in society. He also wanted to increase their medical knowledge by telling them a story about one illness, which humans sometimes seem to suffer from. The gnomes made themselves comfortable on the down filled poofs that were scattered about, while LongBeard filled his pipe with herbacco.

LongBeard cleared his throat and touched his nose with his left index finger. The room instantly went quiet, for they all knew that this was the sign that he was ready to begin.

“Welcome, my good friends. Here is tonight’s story:”


Amelia Collapses




The woman was standing on her front porch, staring at the winding road that led up to her house. Concern over the safety of her daughter was gnawing at her stomach. Her daughter, Amelia had gone to fetch the cows from the field and had not returned at her usual time.

Although the woman knew that the area was safe and that her daughter would come to no harm, there had lately been a decrease in Amelia’s energy. This was especially noticeable when she had to do chores which required her to walk long distances. From a happy, high energy girl, she seems to have changed into a quiet, rather lethargic child. It seemed as if she had to drag herself off to do her chores, rather than enjoying them as she used to. She often complained that her legs and joints were sore, but did not think it was painful enough to warrant a visit to the local doctor. The woman now regretted this decision, thinking that she should have used her common sense about the severity of the symptoms, rather than be guided by her daughter on this matter.

The woman frowned as she suddenly saw a car approaching. Cars were scarce on this road and this meant that it must be a very important visit. As it drew near, she recognized the doctor’s car, and her heart beat faster with anxiety. The doctor got out and from the passenger side assisted her daughter. She was leaning heavily on his arm for support. “Amelia collapsed while fetching the cows,” the doctor explained. “Young Peter, the herds-boy, saw it happen and called me quickly. I took her to the surgery and examined her thoroughly. It seems as if she has rheumatic fever and will have to rest in bed for about 6 months.”

At last the reason for her daughter’s decreased energy became clear to the woman. On the one hand she was relieved to know the cause, but on the other hand she was concerned about the meaning and implication of what the doctor was saying.

As if he could read her mind, the doctor said, “I will explain what it all means in a moment; let us just get Amelia to bed first.” They helped Amelia to her room and made her comfortable. Then he explained to both of them: Rheumatic fever is an illness which typically develops two or three weeks after an infection, such as a throat infection. It commontly appears in children between the ages of 5 and 15 and can involve the heart, joints, skin and brain. The illness is so named because of its similarity in presentation to rheumatism. We will treat the condition with medication and perhaps she won't have to rest in bed for quite such a long time."

The good doctor mentioned that he had already spoken to the farmer who lived next door. His son George would take care of Amelia’s outdoor chores, letting the cows out into the field in the morning and fetching them again in the evening. Their sister Delia had offered to come and help in the house or sit with Amelia if her mother needed to go into town. Peter would continue to look after both goat herds and for the time being would shut them up safely on their own farm at night.

“Last but not least”, the doctor said with a twinkle in his eye, “I had this same illness when I was a youngster and the one thing that made it bearable for me to stay in bed for so long were some drums that were set up across the bed for me to play on. I have such a set and will bring them over tomorrow. I will also help you with a few lessons to get you going. In that way I can also check up on you regularly.”

Amelia and her mother thanked him for his help. Their hearts were filled with gratitude towards their friends and neighbours who were so kind to them. They were, once again, relieved that they had chosen to stay in this village where people supported and cared for one another constantly. They smiled and hugged each other as they knew that everything would turn out all right.

Acknowledgement: baddog.com/2005/12/

The Golden Necklace

It was a hot summer night early in January in South Africa. The gnomes from Riversdale were enjoying the full moon, sitting around outside, talking and laughing amongst themselves. LongBeard was sitting on the soft moss under a big old oak tree, smoking his pipe filled with harmless herbacco. The sweet aroma of his pipe smoke drifted on the warm air and across the golf course where they lived.

Suddenly they heard human laughter, and all the gnomes scattered to hide underground. Gnomes prefer not to be seen by humans who don’t seem to understand that there are creatures around who look like them, but who have a very different life style.

LongBeard peeped from under the red and white toadstool to see what the humans were doing on the golf course this time of night. The golf course was closed and usually there were no people about at this time. He saw two young adults, a girl and boy, giggling and playing short shots of golf in the moonlight. “I told you it can be done,” said the girl. “Yes, but we are not allowed to be here,” replied the boy. He looked around furtively. “Just this one hole,” pleaded the girl, “then I will have proven my point.” “Okay,” whispered the boy and prepared to hit the ball.

His shot went wild and the golf ball landed quite close to where LongBeard was hiding. “Oh dear,” exclaimed the girl, “luckily we brought a torch along!” They shone their torch in the direction of the ball and came closer to where LongBeard was hiding. Suddenly the girl tripped over one of the big tree roots and went sprawling in the mud. “Oh no!” she wailed. “Look at how dirty my clothes are!” “Never mind,” replied the boy gently, “let’s stop playing now. You’ve made your point about the moonlight being as light as day. Let us go home so that you can change.” The girl brushed off the worst of the dirt and rinsed her hands in the stream. The boy picked up his ball, took her hand and led her back to their car.

Neither of them noticed that when she fell, she had lost the golden necklace which her parents had given her on her 18th birthday. LongBeard, however, with his keen night-eyes, instantly saw the shiny object where it had fallen in the mud. He waited until they had driven off and carefully retrieved the fine necklace. He rinsed it in the clear river water and dried it with his beard. Then he wound it around his waist; not once but four times!

He danced on top of the toadstool, appreciating the beauty of the golden necklace, enjoying its shiny brilliance in the moonlight. After a while, he sat down on top of the toadstool to ponder the situation. He knew that the girl would be sad once she noticed that her precious necklace was missing and wondered what he could do to help her.

He did not have to think for very long, because very soon he heard a car approaching and then he saw that it was their car. The two youngsters came walking back to where the girl had fallen. “I am sure I must have lost it here,” said the girl, “although how on earth we will find it I do not know!”

“I have an idea,” replied the boy, “my mother told me that all things can be spoken to and that if we do it in a kind way, they will respond in kind. Let us try it.” They stood on the muddy patch where the girl had fallen, faced each other and held hands. The girl said, “Dear necklace, oh beautiful necklace, you are precious to me for you were given to me with love, you help protect me against negative energies because you are charged with my parents’ love. Please return to me.” The boy then said, “Dear Mother Earth, you who are holding Mary’s necklace in the palm of your hand, we thank and honour you for the life you give us, for the air, water, food and protection that you supply in such abundance. Kindly return Mary’s necklace to her, if it is your wish to do so.”

“What do we do now?” whispered the girl. “We wait,” the boy whispered back. “What if we don’t find the necklace?” Mary asked. “Then we thank them for their time, say good-bye to the necklace and leave. It is important to show gratitude for the time that you did spend together.”

LongBeard listened to this conversation with astonishment. “At last,” he thought, “young people with an attitude of gratitude! She deserves to have her necklace back,” he thought, carefully unrolling it from his waist.

Swift as the blink of an eye he jumped straight up in the air to the branch above him and quickly hung the necklace from it. He hid behind the leaves and willed the girl with his thoughts to look up. “How strange,” said Mary, “I feel as if something is pulling my eyes upwards…” Looking up and over the boy’s head,
she saw, gleaming in the moonlight, her precious necklace dangling from the tree. “There it is!” she exclaimed. Delighted, they carefully lifted it off the branch. “Look at how shiny and clean it is,” Mary whispered, “it was actually in need of a good polish when I lost it. I wonder who could have picked it up and left it for us to find.”

“Maybe somebody passed by after we left.” suggested the boy. “No way!” said the girl, shining the torch on the ground. “The only footprints here are ours.”

“Well,” said the boy, “my mother believes that if we show respect and gratitude to all beings, we will realise that there is much more to things around us than meets the eye. She always encourages me to expand my limited perception of the world around me! Let us say thank you and go home.”

They stood facing each other and, holding hands, respectfully thanked Mother Earth for returning the necklace. Then they acknowledged the necklace for making itself easily visible, so that they could recover it.

With that, they left, laughing softly and feeling deeply satisfied. “Other people will think we are mad, the way we talk,” Mary chuckled. “Let them,“ smiled the boy, “let them think what they like.”

And with a happy bounce in their step, they walked back to the car.

Acknowledgement: www.thenoblejewelers.com/.../gold-necklace-n176/

The Hunters Transgress

12 May 2010

LongBeard and his young friend ShortBeard were sitting on a rock in the middle of the stream. It was hot and the cicadas, known by the local inhabitants as “sonbesies”, were buzzing about in their noisy, shrilly way. The two friends dipped their toes in the cold water. The stream which flowed down from the Langeberg Mountain was always cold and they delighted in cooling down in this way. “So,” LongBeard asked his friend, “anymore interesting dreams lately?” “Well, yes,” said ShortBeard. “In fact, I came prepared and have already written down the 6 words which you usually require when I want to have a dream interpreted. Here they are.” He passed a piece of bark to LongBeard and added, “It was actually a nightmare and I didn’t enjoy the dream at all. At the same time, I am keen to find out if there is a message or lesson in this dream for me.”

LongBeard read the words slowly, closed his eyes for a minute, and said, “ShortBeard, my friend, here is the story which will help you understand your dream:”

The Hunters Transgress

It was early summer in the fertile land along the Mamuti River. The sun was burning down on dry, scorched cornfields. The local people were restlessly looking up at the sky, mumbling to themselves about the lack of clouds and absence of rain.

They were too afraid to speak about it out loud, in case they offended the god of rain even more. “He is upset with us,” they told themselves, “or else he wouldn’t have sacrificed us to the devil of the sun like this. We are being punished for our deeds.”

Their thoughts went back to the winter season when, towards the end of the intensely cold period, some of their hunters accidentally came upon a female black bear hibernating in a cave. She was pregnant and would have given birth to her cubs in the coming spring. The hunters, however, broke one of the cardinal rules of hunting – they decided to kill her and use the meat and skin to feed and clothe themselves and their families. They had been brought up in a tradition in which the female black bear was sacred and her cubs could always count on their tribe’s protection. However, they were a lazy group of hunters and they had decided it was too much of an effort to search any further for more appropriate game.

So the hunters killed her there and then, skinned her and carried the meat back to their village to share with their immediate families. They sneaked back under cover of darkness, having decided to keep their vile actions secret from the rest of the tribe.

They were ill-prepared for their families’ reaction. Although their bellies were empty and they were extremely hungry, they wouldn’t eat any of the meat. The women also refused to treat the skin, as is their traditional role. The men ate the meat by themselves, but were too lazy to cure the skin, so they buried it some distance from the village. Lazy as they were, they didn’t bury it deep enough, and very soon the dogs from the village found it and dragged it back. The villagers were enraged when they saw the bear skin.

The chief of the tribe immediately called a meeting and the culprits were identified. They were severely reprimanded and as punishment their usual hunting duties were doubled. The lazy men thought that the villagers were being silly and unnecessarily superstitious. They decided to run away.

That night they quietly gathered their belongings together and disappeared while everyone was fast asleep.

When their families woke up in the morning and noticed that they had gone, they were deeply sorrowed. They knew that not only had the men broken the golden rule of the tribe by killing the black she-bear, but they had also seriously transgressed by deserting their families. Instead of running away, they could have found forgiveness by taking responsibility for their wrong doing.

Later that evening, as the families sat quietly around the campfire contemplating their situation, the silence was broken by a series of eerie howls. Suddenly they heard screams coming from afar and even though the voices were distant and muted, there was no mistaking the terror and fear in the sound. The next moment the screams abruptly ended, and the villagers knew that the culprits had met an untimely death in the jaws of the prowling wolves.

They looked up at the sky, and to their surprise, saw clouds drifting closer. The chief noticed it as well, and quickly called the tribe together. “It is time for ceremony,” he declared, “a ceremony of forgiveness, of blessing, and…it is time for our most beloved dance of all! The Rain Dance!”

Acknowledgment http://www.blazelightaround.co.uk/pages/dreamblazer.php

journalism.missouri.edu/alumni/chris-oberholt...

Flamingo's Last Flight

LongBeard was sitting in the shade of his favourite red and white toadstool, sharing some green oats with his rabbit friend, Hoppit. They were talking about the weather and the interesting new cloud formations that both had noticed in the last week.

Suddenly LongBeard’s young friend ShortBeard appeared in front of them. “Hello ShortBeard,” they greeted him, “how are you today?” “Hello LongBeard and Hoppit,” he replied. “Actually, I have come to ask your advice on a strange dream I had last night.” “I would be delighted to help you,“ LongBeard said, “just write down 6 key words from your dream in a column. After that, ask your unconscious mind to help you choose another 6 words to replace them. Write these words in the next column. Repeat this process and bring your final list of 6 words to me.” “Thank you,” replied ShortBeard and started writing the words on a big oak leaf. He finished it quickly and gave the list of words to LongBeard.

LongBeard looked at the words, closed his eyes for a minute and then said, “ShortBeard, I will tell you a story, and in this story you will find the meaning of your dream. Here is your story:”



Flamingo’s Last Flight

The mercury was dropping fast in the thermometer. The rain was turning to sleet. The wind factor was pushing the temperature down even more and it was rapidly plummeting below freezing point.

The flock of flamingoes which had been flying South to warmer climes flew closer together in formation, as if they could gain warmth from each other in this way. They were all nearing exhaustion, but intuitively knew if they could just fly for another 10 miles they would be safely out of storm’s reach. They flew on bravely.

However, for one flamingo it was all too much. With a resigned sigh, she closed her wings and dropped from the air.

A flash of lightning split the sky and for a moment clearly illuminated the trees below. Then darkness closed in again, and the flock was spared the sight of their mate meeting her cruel death as she plunged into the landscape far down below.

Acknowledgement: http://www.blazelightaround.co.uk/pages/dreamblazer.php
ibc.lynxeds.com/photo/greater-flamingo-phoeni...

Picture: Shani Grove

Springtime in Riversdale

Springtime in Riversdale

LongBeard was sitting on his favourite red and white toadstool, smoking his herbacco pipe.

He loved these beautiful Spring days where every day there were new leaves, flowers, baby animals and insects. The air was scented and the peach blossoms were clearly visible through the oak branches that were only just starting to sprout their light green leaves.

LongBeard enjoyed the peace and beauty of the country side. Little gnomes were popping out of the ground and splashing about in the clear stream. Lady gnomes were sitting on toadstools of various sizes and colours, brushing their long hair. Their thick tresses had kept them warm during winter, and now they were letting the combed out fluff drift away on the breeze. In its place silky new hair had started growing. Some had light green hair and some had pale pink hair. These colours blended into the environment so that it was quite hard to spot the ladies amongst the flowers.

The starlings were swooping down to catch the discarded hair. They used it to line their nests before laying their eggs, as gnome hair is very soft and silky, and highly sought after for nest building. Once the eggs hatch, it provides warmth and comfort for the newly born chicks. This connection between nature and gnomes is mutually beneficial and has been there for as long as they can remember.

LongBeard decided that it was time to comb out his winter beard too. He removed the grey hair and was left with a long brown beard, the same colour as the branches and tree trunks around him. He put his grey and white winter clothes away and dressed in his light green and blue Spring outfit. Now, if he wanted to be invisible, all he needed to do was to wrap his long beard around his body in such a way that he resembled a plant in spring!

He smiled happily as he felt himself blend into his surroundings. Gnomes live close to the earth and believe that the more they are connected to each other and to nature, the better their communication and interaction. They are attuned to one another through thoughts, feelings and deeds, and know that good fortune is more about their lifestyle, than mere luck.

Gnomes of all types are joined together by this belief that there is an invisible web linking them to one another and to nature. They become one through this connection and live in harmony with all that is around them.

Picture acknowledgement: Shani Grove

LongBeard finds a way to rescue Andries

Andries Bakkies was a lively 10-year old who lived on the outskirts of Riversdale. His home was close to the golf course and he often used to collect wood from there for his mother to use in the wood stove. He enjoyed picking his way through the stream and knew where the deep areas were to avoid. He was proud of the fact that he could hop from one dry spot in the stream to the next, and to the other side without getting his feet wet. In that way he could gather more wood than many of the other children, who were afraid they might fall in the river.

LongBeard and his clan used to watch Andries and the other children as they gathered wood and spoke to each other in their loud and shrill little voices. They enjoyed watching Andries hop across the stream in his sure-footed way. Andries was also well known amongst the gnomes for being one person who trod carefully whenever he walked amongst the trees…almost as if he knew that there might be little people’s dwellings under foot!

On this particular winter’s day in July, the weather was looking bleak, and a storm was building up. Andries’ mother asked him to quickly go and gather some wood, so that they would have enough for the cold and wet days ahead. He grabbed the bag that he always carried the wood in and ran down the hill towards the golf course. “Don’t go into the water,” she called after him, “you know how quickly the stream can flood this time of the year!” “I’ll be careful,” he called back and ran towards the stream.

As he hopped across the stream, he noticed that it was starting to flow strongly and he wondered if it had rained further upstream, causing the water to rise here at the golf course. Andries knew that the little stream could develop into a fully flooding river if it rained hard and he hurried to complete his chore. As he filled his bag he noticed the level of the river rising quite fast. He continued filling his bag, thinking he would have enough time to get back across the river safely.

He put the last piece of wood in the bag, fastened it tightly and with the bag held on top of his head started hopping back across the stream. Too late! He realised that he had waited too long and would have to take the long way around over the old railway bridge. He turned around to go back, but suddenly the river swelled higher and he could see that it was too wide for him to jump across. Andries was trapped on this little piece of ground in the middle of the river! There was a loud clap of thunder over-head and large raindrops started pelting his bare face. The wind was blowing hard along the stream, making waves on the brown water and raising the level even more quickly. Andries couldn’t swim and he knew he was stuck. Fear grabbed him in the throat and squeezed his heart. Why didn’t he listen to his mother? Why did he always have to think he knew better? He started crying, for he was sure this would be his last day on earth.

Meanwhile, LongBeard, who had seen it all happen, decided to break all gnome rules to let the people know that Andries was in trouble. As there were no other humans about to throw acorns at or trip up with plant roots to get their attention, he had to find some other way to get help. It was 5 minutes to 4 in the afternoon, and LongBeard remembered that Etienne, the young dentist, usually worked until 4pm.

As only gnomes can do, LongBeard flew through the ground like birds fly through the air, and within two minutes he was at Etienne’s dental surgery. He popped up through the floor of Etienne’s private office. Just in time! Etienne already had his motorcar keys in his hand! He tugged at Etienne’s trousers to get his attention and whispered, “Etienne!”

Etienne looked down in surprise. “LongBeard,” he exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“There is a child who needs your help urgently,” LongBeard spoke fast, “young Andries Bakkies is stuck in the stream by the golf course, just to the North of the old railway bridge! The river is rising fast and he will drown if someone doesn’t help him quickly!”

Etienne recognised Andries’ name instantly, for just the week before he had put fillings in his teeth. He remembered the lively youngster with the big smile, who so bravely supported his mother and his little sister, in the absence of their father who had passed away a year ago. Etienne immediately picked up the phone and dialed the emergency number for the police. His friend Jan answered and Etienne quickly told him that Andries was in trouble near the golf course. “We’re on our way,” Jan assured him.

While Etienne dialed the hospital he asked LongBeard, “How long has Andries been outside in the cold?” “Long enough,” LongBeard replied in his enigmatic way. The hospital receptionist answered and he asked to speak to the sister in charge of the emergency room. Sister Marie answered. He quickly told her what had happened and asked if they would prepare themselves to receive Andries. “We’ll be ready,” Sister Marie reassured him, put the phone down and immediately instructed her team to get hot water bottles and blankets ready. She also alerted the doctor on call to be at the hospital when Andries arrived.

Back in the surgery, LongBeard thanked Etienne and disappeared below the floor.
Etienne didn’t have time to think about LongBeard’s strange ways of moving about. He quickly phoned home and told his wife Matty that he would be late coming home, filling her in on the bare details of the event. He grabbed his coat and umbrella and drove to where he knew Andries lived. He had remembered that Andries’ mother did not have a phone, and was concerned that she must be sick with worry about Andries’ whereabouts in this storm. As he drove up to her house, he saw her peeping through the window. Her face was pale and drawn with concern.

He jumped out and entered the small house, quickly asking her where Andries was. When she told him that Andries had gone to the golf course to pick up wood, he told her and her young daughter Magda to get in the car so that they could go and look for him. He drove towards the old railway bridge and they could see the police lights rotating near the river. “Oh no,” Andries’ mother whispered. “He’ll be all right, you’ll see,” said Etienne. In the headlights they could see Jan, the strong policeman, carrying Andries, who was all wrapped up in a thick police blanket, towards the police van. Jan waved a thumbs-up signal to Etienne.

“Jan says he’s okay,” said Etienne. “Let’s meet them at the hospital.” They drove off and waited at the emergency entrance of the hospital. Doctor Paul, Sister Marie and her team were ready and standing by. The police van arrived and Jan carried Andries inside. “He’ll be fine, Ma’am,” he said to Andries’ mother as he jogged past her, “he’s just very cold.”

Sister Marie and her team quickly took Andries inside and the skillful team, who knew about the dangers of hypothermia, caused by excessive exposure to the icy wind and rain, quickly took control. One of the staff nurses collected Andries’ mother and sister, gently took them inside and gave them some hot tea with lots of sugar to ease their shock.

Jan and Etienne stood looking at them, feeling very relieved. “Thanks, Jan,” said Etienne, “great job. We are lucky to have policemen like you in this town.” “We were just in time,” said Jan, “the water was already around his ankles, and he was so cold he couldn’t catch the rope. We had to send Hendrik through the water to go and fetch him. Even Hendrik, big and strong as he is, struggled with the current, but at least we managed to pull both of them back to safety with the rope. Hendrik said the water was freezing cold. He’s gone home to get warm and dry. I’ve given him the rest of the day off to make sure he doesn’t catch a chill. By the way, how did you know that Andries was in trouble? Weren’t you in your surgery, far away from the golf course?”

“Hmmm, I was,” said Etienne, but suddenly I just ‘got a message’ that Andries was in trouble, if you know what I mean?” “No,” said Jan, “I don’t know what you mean, but I’m just glad you ‘got that message’!”

Etienne drove home to his family, and in his heart he was very grateful to LongBeard, who had essentially saved young Andries’ life.

Story 2010 Copyright © Susan Bellingan Fourie

2010 Copyright © LongBeard

Acknowledgement of image:

Sean Sprague – SpraguePhoto.com

Edited by: Janet E Deeb www.blazelightaround.com