During the summers, I would go to stay
with my grandmother in the country. She owned a beautiful cottage near the
foothills of the mountains, completed with a babbling brook and her own small garden,
where she grew lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and green beans. The story
was that Grandmother had obtained the house when she was a little girl by
playing a game with the Old Witch in her village. Grandmother had believed in
magic ever since she was a little girl. Old magic, fairies, and talking animals
often became the subject of Grandmother’s favorite tales to tell. But the one
of how she won the little cottage from the Old Witch was the best tale to be
told.
It began not with once upon a time,
since time was endless for my Grandmother. “Time
seemed endless for the Old Witch too. She had been around since my
Grandmother’s great Grandmother.” My Grandmother said drawing a line in the
air that represented our lineage. “Or so
it seemed.” Grandmother laughed. “But
it was a known fact amongst the villagers that the Old Witch had been around
for ages. She had always lived at the foothills of the mountains. Perhaps she
was even born there. None of the villagers could be sure exactly what the Old
Witch did up there all alone but she always seemed to turn up when the people
needed her the most.” My Grandmother looked down at me, all wrapped up in
red and blue alpaca blankets from the Alps, to make sure that I was still
listening and had not dozed off. “See,
little one, that was what made the Old Witch magical.” Grandmother tucked
the loose edges of the alpaca blanket tightly around me and then continued, “One summer, all the villager’s crops were
killed by disease or had eaten by the wild animals. No one knew what to do. The
whole effort put into growing and raising the crops was gone in a matter of
seconds. If there was no food to be eaten then the villagers risked a famine. That
was their dilemma "“
“The
Old Witch becomes the hero?” I
interrupted. To help my five-year-old mind understand the complex stories my
Grandmother always told me, I was given a method to help distinguish the plot
from her ramblings. There was always a hero, big or small, and there was always
a dilemma, big or small. That was how a story was made. Grandmother laughed at
my eagerness to understand this particular tale. “The Old Witch a hero? Well, I had never thought of it that way. But I
agree with you, little one, the Old Witch was the hero in this particular tale,
although the villagers probably never saw it like that. See, little one, the
Old Witch was different than the rest of the villager folks. She knew ancient
knowledge that had been passed on from her ancestors only by listening to the
land. She also knew magic, little one, real magic. Perhaps that was why she was
neither young nor old. It seemed the Old Witch was stuck at the perpetual age
of a maiden who had seen her youth slip by but was still holding on to it for
dear life. It was said that if you stood at different angles and looked at her
she appeared to be only a little girl. Maybe magic was also the reason why the
Old Witch could materialize whenever the villagers where in peril. To the
children in the village she was a mystery that could only be accepted by the
fact that she was indeed a Witch. But the adults in the village could not
accept the fact that she was a Witch. So they feared her and the fear led to
hatred. Only when the Old Witch came to save them did they believe that the she
could be left to her own devices at the foothill of the mountain,” Grandmother
paused for the question, which she knew was bursting from the seams inside me.
“But
Witches can’t be real, Grandmother, can they?” I blurt using the blanket to
hide myself behind.
“Witches are real, little one. You just
have to believe it so.” Grandmother
pulled the blanket away and shook her head. “Listen
to my story. Magic is real. And that was why only the children could see her as
a Witch and accept her as one. Children open their hearts to magic, little one,
because their hearts are still new and not tarnished by darkness of the world.”
Her face became grave and it was times like this where I could no longer
understand what the tale had become or why it had shifted into something far
more darker and deeper than anything I could ever understand at such a young
age. Grandmother turned away to stare at the crescent moon that was peaking
through the oscillating gold curtains in my bedroom. “But Witches are neither good or bad until they are consumed by their
own personal desires. It was difficult to tell whether this Old Witch was
consumed by her own desires when she always showed up to help the villagers,
little one."
" But one thing was certain and that was no matter what happened,
whether the villagers hated her, despised her or threatened her, she always
came to help them. That summer when the crops didn’t produce any fruit and the
villagers were growing fearful of their fate, the Old Witch appeared in village
square where the Councilmen were counting what was left of the dried fruits and
vegetables from last year’s crops. The Old Witch appeared out of thin air and
was standing patiently next to a small family and widower, both of which failed
to recognize the Old Witch’s materialization. I was playing with some cousins
by the fire, singing songs of the wild beasts. We also failed to recognize the
Old Witch’s materialization and carried on with our songs and games. When the
Councilmen finished their counting and the final sweat had fallen from their
brows, the Old Witch stepped forward. The fire jumped alive and crackled and
blazed brighter than it had before. The children stopped playing and gathered
around the skirts of the Old Witch unafraid and ready to listen to the advice
she had to say. The villagers on the other hand had shied away from the Old
Witch too afraid to usher their children away.
"The Councilmen tried to be
respectful although they were nervous. Each bowed low and greeted the Old Witch
who silently acknowledged them. Then there was silence. The Old Witch could
only offer her wisdom if the villagers asked. Finally the youngest and bravest
Councilman stood up and walked towards the Old Witch, who was looking older and
older in the flickering of firelight. Dear Old friend, he said. Please help us
we don’t know what happened to our crops that we worked so hard on. Please tell
us what we can do. The villagers who had shied away held their breath hoping
the Old Witch would not turn away from them just as they had turn away from her.
Dear son, I will help you solve this dilemma with the crops, the Old Witch
said. But I must ask for a favor in exchange for my wisdom. The villagers began
to murmur and the young Councilman was stunned. Not ever in the history of the
village had the Old Witch asked for help from the villagers. The Councilman was
quick to answer, anything you might need just ask us and we will give it to you,
he said. The Old Witch nodded her head and spoke her favor; I need a child, a
little girl to take back with me to the mountains. The Old Witch’s request was
met with silence and then quite dangerous outburst. The villagers began to
scream at her while the children who sat by her feet stared up at her with rapt
attention. To the village children, the possibility of going with the Old Witch
meant a whole new adventure and quickly they all pleaded to go. Except for me.
I was afraid, little one. Even though I loved magic and I loved the Old Witch
for allowing magic to come alive I could not bring myself to jump and clamor like
the other children did. I only felt that I was not the one to go. I quickly ran
away to find my mother and when I reached her and hid behind my mother’s dress
I found the Old Witch staring at me with her ice blue eyes and feared that she
would raise a gnarled finger and point to me, sealing my fate.
"But the Old
Witch did no such thing. Instead she raised both hands and a cold silence
evaporated the screams and shouts right from the villager’s throats. The
children became silent and still. When the child is ready I will take her with
me. But she has to be ready and willing. It will not be now or in the near
future but the favor will be paid in time. And the favor must be paid. The Old
Witch looked at me again with those chilly eyes and a tremor went up my spine.
When the villagers were ready to listen again the Old Witch told the villagers
how to cleanse the land and told them that she would help stretch the summer
sun and watch over the growth of the new crops. In a short time new crops grew
twice as large and juicy as it had before the last summer and the villagers
rejoiced and had forgotten the request of the Old Witch. But even though I was
still a little girl I had not forgotten about that night the Old Witch
requested for a favor. So one day when I was out picking strawberries in the
field and had strayed far from the other children when the Old Witch
materialized in front of me. This time I did not run away to my mother and
instead greeted her with a curtsy and offered her some strawberries from my basket.
I told her I was ready to go with her, for I had thought she had chosen to take
me away. The Old Witch smiled and in that moment I have never seen anyone so
youthful and beautiful and full of sunshine in my entire life. The Old Witch
walked towards me and gently lowered my outstretched hands with the basket of
berries. No child, she said. I have not come for you. I have realized, that
although you are the perfect one to take with me to the mountains, that you are
meant for a greater purpose. Confused, I waited for her to go on. The Old Witch
sat down next to me so we were almost eye-level. See child, you have a
wonderful talent inside of you that is just like magic. You don’t know what it
is yet but it is important that you realize it soon. So I have come here to
play a game with you, said the Witch. Being young like yourself little one, I
was confused by her words but as soon as she had said she wanted to play a game
everything fell into place in my tiny brain. I nodded my head and agreed that I
would play this game with the Old Witch. Delighted, the Old Witch reached into
the folds of her dress and pulled out a wooden carving of a bear and a house.
If you win this game child, I will let you have my little house on the
foothills of the mountain, said the Old Witch. I was sure I didn’t hear her right,
none the less, I had agreed to play the game with the Old Witch.” Grandmother
paused for a breath and smiled down at my little drowsy face.
“What
game, Grandmother?” I asked while failing to banish the sleep from my eyes.
“The telling tales game, little one. I beat
the Old Witch by weaving a single tale that was so great that the Old Witch was
left speechless. That was how I won the little house from the Old Witch. Now go
to sleep, little one, and I will tell you the Great Tale I had created to beat
the Old Witch at her own game another time.” Grandmother stood up and carried me to the little cot that housed
my stuffed animals and pillows. She laid me down gently, kissed my forehead and
shut the gold curtains tightly before whispering good night.
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