Ouch!
“Ouch, mother, it hurts.”
The voice forced the woman to stop. She let the stalks of golden rice go limp in her hand. The blade dropped from her fingers.
Numbed, she stood statue-like in the first-ever rice field. The tropical sun beat down relentlessly. Perspiration trickled down her face. Tears burned her eyes.
“I can’t harvest any more rice,” she thought.
So her husband finished the harvest.
When it came time to scrape the grain from the rice stalk, the husband showed his wife what to do. But she had barely started when she paused and her eyes glazed over. Again she heard the voice, “Ouch, mother, it hurts.”
“I can’t do this,” she thought. So her husband completed scraping the rice from the stalks. Mounds of grain were heaped all around.
Next, the couple began to lay the rice out to dry. Bending over, they evened the grain in the pans. But the same voice began to pound in the woman’s head. “Ouch, mother, it hurts.” And the man quietly finished laying the rice out to dry.
“Thump, thump, thump.” The couple began to rhythmically pound the dry rice. But the voice intruded, and the woman’s pleasure turned to pain. “Ouch, mother, it hurts.” Again the man finished the work.
And the same thing happened during the winnowing process.
But when they cooked the rice, the couple was surprised. “This tastes so good,” each said.
“And the voice is gone!” exclaimed the woman. “I miss my child, but this food is making me strong.” The man knew it was time to tell his wife what had happened.
“Yes, I had to kill our child,” he said. “Months ago, a god came to me in a dream and told me to go make a rice field. But I did not know how. The god told me to cut my child’s throat and let the blood spill on a field.
“You didn’t know where we’d gone,” he continued. “When I returned without our child, you wept for four months. You kept begging me to take you to the field, and when we did we found rice, ready to harvest.
“Now we have food for life.”
This myth is believed by many Palawano tribal people in the Philippines. And similar stories are part of the folklore of some tribal groups in the Asia-Pacific region.
Do you see an interesting parallel?
A child killed ─ blood shed ─ life given.
Tribal missions is filled with amazing opportunities to point people to the true Life Giver!
The voice forced the woman to stop. She let the stalks of golden rice go limp in her hand. The blade dropped from her fingers.
Numbed, she stood statue-like in the first-ever rice field. The tropical sun beat down relentlessly. Perspiration trickled down her face. Tears burned her eyes.
“I can’t harvest any more rice,” she thought.
So her husband finished the harvest.
When it came time to scrape the grain from the rice stalk, the husband showed his wife what to do. But she had barely started when she paused and her eyes glazed over. Again she heard the voice, “Ouch, mother, it hurts.”
“I can’t do this,” she thought. So her husband completed scraping the rice from the stalks. Mounds of grain were heaped all around.
Next, the couple began to lay the rice out to dry. Bending over, they evened the grain in the pans. But the same voice began to pound in the woman’s head. “Ouch, mother, it hurts.” And the man quietly finished laying the rice out to dry.
“Thump, thump, thump.” The couple began to rhythmically pound the dry rice. But the voice intruded, and the woman’s pleasure turned to pain. “Ouch, mother, it hurts.” Again the man finished the work.
And the same thing happened during the winnowing process.
But when they cooked the rice, the couple was surprised. “This tastes so good,” each said.
“And the voice is gone!” exclaimed the woman. “I miss my child, but this food is making me strong.” The man knew it was time to tell his wife what had happened.
“Yes, I had to kill our child,” he said. “Months ago, a god came to me in a dream and told me to go make a rice field. But I did not know how. The god told me to cut my child’s throat and let the blood spill on a field.
“You didn’t know where we’d gone,” he continued. “When I returned without our child, you wept for four months. You kept begging me to take you to the field, and when we did we found rice, ready to harvest.
“Now we have food for life.”
This myth is believed by many Palawano tribal people in the Philippines. And similar stories are part of the folklore of some tribal groups in the Asia-Pacific region.
Do you see an interesting parallel?
A child killed ─ blood shed ─ life given.
Tribal missions is filled with amazing opportunities to point people to the true Life Giver!