Saturday, July 23, 2011

Project in English III

The Necklace
She was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. She had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the Ministry of Education. Her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land.
     She suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. She suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. All these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. The sight of the little Breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. She imagined silent antechambers, heavy with Oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. She imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings.
     When she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "Aha! Scotch broth! What could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken.
     She had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. And these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. She had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after.
     She had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. She would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery.
One evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand.
     "Here's something for you," he said.
     Swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words:
     "The Minister of Education and Madame Ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of Monsieur and Madame Loisel at the Ministry on the evening of Monday, January the 18th."
     Instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring:
     "What do you want me to do with this?"
     "Why, darling, I thought you'd be pleased. You never go out, and this is a great occasion. I had tremendous trouble to get it. Every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. You'll see all the really big people there."
     She looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "And what do you suppose I am to wear at such an affair?"
     He had not thought about it; he stammered:
     "Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very nice, to me . . ."
     He stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. Two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth.
     "What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you?" he faltered.
     But with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks:
     "Nothing. Only I haven't a dress and so I can't go to this party. Give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than I shall."
     He was heart-broken.
     "Look here, Mathilde," he persisted. "What would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?"
     She thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk.
     At last she replied with some hesitation:
     "I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred francs."
     He grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of Nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays.
     Nevertheless he said: "Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. But try and get a really nice dress with the money."
     The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. Her dress was ready, however. One evening her husband said to her:
     "What's the matter with you? You've been very odd for the last three days."
     "I'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "I shall look absolutely no one. I would almost rather not go to the party."
     "Wear flowers," he said. "They're very smart at this time of the year. For ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses."
     She was not convinced.
     "No . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women."
     "How stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "Go and see Madame Forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her quite well enough for that."
     She uttered a cry of delight.
     "That's true. I never thought of it."
     Next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble.
     Madame Forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to Madame Loisel, opened it, and said:
     "Choose, my dear."
     First she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. She tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. She kept on asking:
     "Haven't you anything else?"
     "Yes. Look for yourself. I don't know what you would like best."
     Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. Her hands trembled as she lifted it. She fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself.
     Then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish:
     "Could you lend me this, just this alone?"
     "Yes, of course."
     She flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. The day of the party arrived. Madame Loisel was a success. She was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. All the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to her. All the Under-Secretaries of State were eager to waltz with her. The Minister noticed her.
     She danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart.
     She left about four o'clock in the morning. Since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. He threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. She was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs.
     Loisel restrained her.
     "Wait a little. You'll catch cold in the open. I'm going to fetch a cab."
     But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. When they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance.
     They walked down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in Paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight.
     It brought them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. It was the end, for her. As for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten.
     She took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. But suddenly she uttered a cry. The necklace was no longer round her neck!
     "What's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed.
     She turned towards him in the utmost distress.
     "I . . . I . . . I've no longer got Madame Forestier's necklace. . . ."
     He started with astonishment.
     "What! . . . Impossible!"
     They searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. They could not find it.
     "Are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked.
     "Yes, I touched it in the hall at the Ministry."
     "But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall."
     "Yes. Probably we should. Did you take the number of the cab?"
     "No. You didn't notice it, did you?"
     "No."
     They stared at one another, dumbfounded. At last Loisel put on his clothes again.
     "I'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if I can't find it."
     And he went out. She remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought.
     Her husband returned about seven. He had found nothing.
     He went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him.
     She waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe.
     Loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing.
     "You must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. That will give us time to look about us."
     She wrote at his dictation.

By the end of a week they had lost all hope.
     Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:
     "We must see about replacing the diamonds."
     Next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. He consulted his books.
     "It was not I who sold this necklace, Madame; I must have merely supplied the clasp."
     Then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind.
     In a shop at the Palais-Royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. It was worth forty thousand francs. They were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand.
     They begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. And they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of February.
     Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. He intended to borrow the rest.
     He did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. He gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. He mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs.
     When Madame Loisel took back the necklace to Madame Forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice:
     "You ought to have brought it back sooner; I might have needed it."
     She did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. If she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? What would she have said? Would she not have taken her for a thief?
Madame Loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. From the very first she played her part heroically. This fearful debt must be paid off. She would pay it. The servant was dismissed. They changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof.
     She came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. She washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. And, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money.
     Every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained.
     Her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page.
     And this life lasted ten years.
     At the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest.
     Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. Her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. She spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired.
     What would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. Who knows? Who knows? How strange life is, how fickle! How little is needed to ruin or to save!
     One Sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the Champs-Elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. It was Madame Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive.
     Madame Loisel was conscious of some emotion. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now that she had paid, she would tell her all. Why not?
     She went up to her.
     "Good morning, Jeanne."
     The other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman.
     "But . . . Madame . . ." she stammered. "I don't know . . . you must be making a mistake."
     "No . . . I am Mathilde Loisel."
     Her friend uttered a cry.
     "Oh! . . . my poor Mathilde, how you have changed! . . ."
     "Yes, I've had some hard times since I saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account."
     "On my account! . . . How was that?"
     "You remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the Ministry?"
     "Yes. Well?"
     "Well, I lost it."
     "How could you? Why, you brought it back."
     "I brought you another one just like it. And for the last ten years we have been paying for it. You realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . Well, it's paid for at last, and I'm glad indeed."
     Madame Forestier had halted.
     "You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"
     "Yes. You hadn't noticed it? They were very much alike."
     And she smiled in proud and innocent happiness.
     Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands.
     "Oh, my poor Mathilde! But mine was imitation. It was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . "

REACTION:
The story “The Neklace” talks about a woman, a very pretty but poor woman who is so materialistic. She has this great desire for luxurious things. Since she is beautiful, she thought that only extravagance can define her goddess-like beauty, which is really wrong. Because many of us are focused on the outside appearance, we tend to forget our inner part – our attitude. Most of the sought-after men and women already have forgotten that inner beauty is the most important, not the outside appearance.  I admire Mr. Loisel for supporting her wife, through richer or poorer (as their wedding vow declared). He made all the things that he can do just to be able to pay the diamond necklace. He stood up mightily and carried the burden of her wife, which is a sign of being a gentleman. The story talks about contentment and honesty.  Contentment because is only Madame Loisel accepted her destiny of having a poor husband and dealt with it with happiness in her heart, and if only she learned to thank our God Almighty for giving her such an understanding and loving husband, who is willing to sacrifice his enjoyment just to make her happy, she would not want to go to that party, would not want to have nice dress and would not have to borrow necklace from Madame Forestier, and would not have lost the diamond necklace that night. And if she is contented, she would not want to compete with other women in terms of beauty, because she knows to herself that she is pretty. Also, point Honesty, because if she had been honest to herself, that she is not rich and was not born to have fancy things, she would not want to have those things.  Also because if she became honest to Madame Forestier, she would know from the very start that the “Diamond Necklace” that she borrowed was just a paste. Maybe Mr. Loisel would not have to work day and night, Madame Loisel would not have to work on the household chores and she would not look older and haggard.
            This story reveals the tragedy of a woman in dilemma, her effort to cope with her problem, and her strength that enables her to bear the adversity with courage and determination. The surprise ending was well-executed and was really a surprise to me. 

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Project in English II

THE TRIAL OF THE STONE
A Chinese Folktale

            The boy Ah Niew was an orphan whose mother died when he was two years old. His grandmother brought him up by selling cakes cooked in oil. He carried the cakes in a basket lined with oily paper and peddled these in the streets.
            One day, Ah Niew was especially lucky. He has sold the three hundred cakes very fast. He was about to go home when he saw an old woman crossing the street with a basketful of fruits. In her haste, she stumbled and her fruits rolled in the streets. Ah Niew put down his basket and with the money in it and came to woman’s rescue. He gathered the fruits, rubbed off the dust from them, and returned them in the basket.
            When he turned to get his own basket, it was gone. He looked around and saw it beside a big stone. But the money was gone.
            Ah Niew cried so loud that the people came to see what was the matter. “Oh! Oh! My money is gone…” Ah Niew wailed. “What will my grandmother say? She worked so hard baking all those cakes in oil… and I sold them all. But the money is gone.”
            Paw Kong, a Mandarin who was a kindhearted judge happened to be passing by. Ah Niew ran to him for help. Paw Kong scrutinized the faces of the onlookers. He said to young man, “Did you take the boy’s money?”
            “No,” replied the young man.
            “Did you take it?” he asked the man with the big nose. “No,” he replied.
            All the people around him whom he asked denied that they had taken the money.
            Paw Kong said, “I have asked all of you and none would admit the theft. The only remaining object nearby is this stone, so it must be the thief. Servants, take the stone to the court I shall try it for taking the boy’s money.”
            The people laughed but they were curious to see the trial of the stone, so they went with Paw Kong with the court.
            “You must each pay twenty cents to enter the court,” Paw Kong told them.
            The judge instructed the servants to put a pot of water at the entrance of the court. “Each person must pay twenty cents before they enter the court,” he told the people.
            Paw Kong stood by the water, looking intently at the water as each man dropped his twenty cents. The pot was nearly full of money.
            “That is the man who took the money,” said Paw Kong. “Servant, take him! Look in his bag and he will find money.”
            The Mandarin servants seized the man, opened his bag and true enough! They found two hundred eighty cents.
            “That is my money,” shouts Ah Niew.
            “Yes, that is your money,” agreed Paw Kong.
            “How did you know that is the boy’s money?” asked the people.
            “Look!” said Paw Kong. Look at the water. Ah Niew put his money under the paper lining of the basket. I saw the paper. So his money has oil in it. There is oil on the water, which appeared only when that man put his twenty cents in the pot.”
            “Thank you, thank you, Sir,” replied the grateful Ah Niew as he skipped gaily home to his grandmother.

 

REACTION:
I liked the story because it shows that justice is really for everyone. I liked how the author used the character Ah Niew and Paw Kong in the story. I really liked the story because I felt that this scenario can happen to real life.

This story is a good story especially for youth like us. It teaches us that we should accept all the things that life offers us, just like Ah Niew, he accepted his life with only his grandma on his side, and never asked God for not having a mom and a dad. This story also tells us that everything you do that is good, even if it seems that no one appreciates you, will pay at the end. You will receive trust, love and honesty from others as well. This proves the saying, “There are no secrets that will not be known”, because even if the thief denied his sin, Paw Kong , through his very impressive way of investigating, unfolded the mystery – that the man was really the robber. I also believe that the oil played a very big role in the sense that without the oil on the money, Paw Kong will not know the truth and Ah Niew’s money will not be returned. I find Paw Kong’s strategy of accusing the stone and putting it into a hearing quite amazing and accurate. It is because the attention of the people focused on the “first-ever stone hearing inside the court” and not to the real thing – in arresting the thief.

And what I liked most was the big concern that Paw Kong had with Ah Niew’s problem (even if we are to weigh things, it is really not a very big case to him since he is a court judge). I liked how Paw Kong showed his love and concern to an orphan by responding on his problems.

Project in English

OF A PROMISE KEPT
Lafcadio Hearn
(A Japanese Story)



"I shall return in the early autumn," said Akana Soyëmon several hundred years ago, — when bidding good-bye to his brother by adoption, young Hasébé Samon. The time was spring; and the place was the village of Kato in the province of Harima. Akana was an Izumo samurai; and he wanted to visit his birthplace.
Hasébé said: —
"Your Izumo, — the Country of the Eight-Cloud Rising,2 — is very distant. Perhaps it will therefore be difficult for you to promise to return here upon any particular day. But, if we were to know the exact day, we should feel happier. We could then prepare a feast of welcome; and we could watch at the gateway for your coming."
"Why, as for that," responded Akana, "I have been so much accustomed to travel that I can usually tell beforehand how long it will take me to reach a place; and I can safely promise you to be here upon a particular day. Suppose we say the day of the festival Chôyô?"
"That is the ninth day of the ninth month," said Hasébé; — "then the chrysanthemums will be in bloom, and we can go together to look at them. How pleasant! . . . So you promise to come back on the ninth day of the ninth month?"
"On the ninth day of the ninth month," repeated Akana, smiling farewell. Then he strode away from the village of Kato in the province of Harima; — and Hasébé Samon and the mother of Hasébé looked after him with tears in their eyes.

"Neither the Sun nor the Moon," says an old Japanese proverb, "ever halt upon their journey." Swiftly the months went by; and the autumn came, — the season of chrysanthemums. And early upon the morning of the ninth day of the ninth month Hasébé prepared to welcome his adopted brother. He made ready a feast of good things, bought wine, decorated the guest-room, and filled the vases of the alcove with chrysanthemums of two colors. Then his mother, watching him, said: — "The province of Izumo, my son, is more than one hundred ri3 from this place; and the journey thence over the mountains is difficult and weary; and you cannot be sure that Akana will be able to come to-day. Would it not be better, before you take all this trouble, to wait for his coming?" "Nay, mother!" Hasébé made answer — "Akana promised to be here to-day: he could not break a promise! And if he were to see us beginning to make preparation after his arrival, he would know that we had doubted his word; and we should be put to shame."

The day was beautiful, the sky without a cloud, and the air so pure that the world seemed to be a thousand miles wider than usual. In the morning many travellers passed through the village — some of them samurai; and Hasébé, watching each as he came, more than once imagined that he saw Akana approaching. But the temple-bells sounded the hour of midday; and Akana did not appear. Through the afternoon also Hasébé watched and waited in vain. The sun set; and still there was no sign of Akana. Nevertheless Hasébé remained at the gate, gazing down the road. Later his mother went to him, and said: — "The mind of a man, my son, — as our proverb declares — may change as quickly as the sky of autumn. But your chrysanthemum-flowers will still be fresh to-morrow. Better now to sleep; and in the morning you can watch again for Akana, if you wish." "Rest well, mother," returned Hasébé; — "but I still believe that he will come." Then the mother went to her own room; and Hasébé lingered at the gate.
The night was pure as the day had been: all the sky throbbed with stars; and the white River of Heaven shimmered with unusual splendor. The village slept; — the silence was broken only by the noise of a little brook, and by the far-away barking of peasants' dogs. Hasébé still waited, — waited until he saw the thin moon sink behind the neighboring hills. Then at last he began to doubt and to fear. Just as he was about to reenter the house, he perceived in the distance a tall man approaching, — very lightly and quickly; and in the next moment he recognized Akana.
"Oh!" cried Hasébé, springing to meet him — "I have been waiting for you from the morning until now! . . . So you really did keep your promise after all. . . . But you must be tired, poor brother! — come in; — everything is ready for you." He guided Akana to the place of honor in the guest-room, and hastened to trim the lights, which were burning low. "Mother," continued Hasébé, "felt a little tired this evening, and she has already gone to bed; but I shall awaken her presently." Akana shook his head, and made a little gesture of disapproval. "As you will, brother," said Hasébé; and he set warm food and wine before the traveller. Akana did not touch the food or the wine, but remained motionless and silent for a short time. Then, speaking in a whisper, — as if fearful of awakening the mother, he said: —
"Now I must tell you how it happened that I came thus late. When I returned to Izumo I found that the people had almost forgotten the kindness of our former ruler, the good Lord Enya, and were seeking the favor of the usurper Tsunéhisa, who had possessed himself of the Tonda Castle. But I had to visit my cousin, Akana Tanji, though he had accepted service under Tsunéhisa, and was living, as a retainer, within the castle grounds. He persuaded me to present myself before Tsunéhisa: I yielded chiefly in order to observe the character of the new ruler, whose face I had never seen. He is a skilled soldier, and of great courage; but he is cunning and cruel. I found it necessary to let him know that I could never enter into his service. After I left his presence he ordered my cousin to detain me — to keep me confined within the house. I protested that I had promised to return to Harima upon the ninth day of the ninth month; but I was refused permission to go. I then hoped to escape from the castle at night; but I was constantly watched; and until to-day I could find no way to fulfil my promise. . . ."
"Until to-day!" exclaimed Hasébé in bewilderment; — "the castle is more than a hundred ri from here!"
"Yes," returned Akana; "and no living man can travel on foot a hundred ri in one day. But I felt that, if I did not keep my promise, you could not think well of me; and I remembered the ancient proverb, Tama yoku ichi nichi ni sen ri wo yuku ["The soul of a man can journey a thousand ri in a day"]. Fortunately I had been allowed to keep my sword; — thus only was I able to come to you. . . . Be good to our mother."
With these words he stood up, and in the same instant disappeared.
Then Hasébé knew that Akana had killed himself in order to fulfil the promise.

At earliest dawn Hasébé Samon set out for the Castle Tonda, in the province of Izumo. Reaching Matsué, he there learned that, on the night of the ninth day of the ninth month, Akana Soyëmon had performed harakiri in the house of Akana Tanji, in the grounds of the castle. Then Hasébé went to the house of Akana Tanji, and reproached Akana Tanji for the treachery done, and slew him in the midst of his family, and escaped without hurt. And when the Lord Tsunéhisa had heard the story, he gave commands that Hasébé should not be pursued. For, although an unscrupulous and cruel man himself, the Lord Tsunéhisa could respect the love of truth in others, and could admire the friendship and the courage of Hasébé Samon.


1 Related in the Ugétsu Monogatari.
2 One of the old poetical names for the Province of Izumo, or Unshû.
3 A ri is about equal to two and a half English miles.



REACTION:

          This story is about friendship and brotherhood that made me value all my promises. This is a story of Honesty, Love and Keeping your promises (but I think, not to the point that you would kill yourself).

          This is a story of Honesty. Honesty because Akana has been very transparent to his adopted brother, Hasebe about how long will it take for him to finish his journey and about his promise of coming back to the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month. Also, Hasebe has been honest in preparing a feast for Akana when he comes back. The two have honest hearts to their words that is why they keep it.
          The story is also about Love, a friendship and brotherly love to one another even though they know that they are not really brothers in the blood.  I remember what Jackie Chan said on one of his movie, “The Spy Next Door” to his girlfriend’s adopted daughter, “Family are not only those people whom you have blood relations, they are also those whom you love and love back.” I realized that a family will not be called a family until love goes inside your hearts and until you let it grow in each one of you, a thing that is clearly seen on Akana and Hasebe. I saw their love for each other when Hasebe waited for Akana from morning till midnight and when Akana performed the well-known “Harakiri” just to be able to keep his promise to his brother. I also saw Akana’s love to his known mother when he disapproved Hasebe’s suggestion in waking their mother up for her to see Akana. I saw and felt how Akana wants to show his gratefulness and care to their mother by his last words, “Be Good to our Mother.” I was moved by how Akana loved his known mother that he does not want her to see him disappear or even know that he already died. I admire the way Akana kept his words to Hasebe. I can not imagine a person willing to do Harakiri just to be able to keep his promise to his brother. I learned through this story how important the dignity and integrity to the samurais because they are really serious in their promises and keep their promises whatever happens. Through this story, I learned to value promises, and do keep them. I was also able to prove the saying, “If there’s a will, there’s a way” so we should be very willing to fulfill our promises whatever it takes.  Also, I learned to value the persons in my life and I knew now that I must let them see how mush I love them until there is still time.