The arable land of Anachack Lanexang, which became Lao PDR on December 2, 1975, is mostly occupied by rice cultivation, whether it is practiced on slash-and-burn or flooded, and according to figures from various specialized institutions in 2009 (FAO, agropolis.fr, atlaseco, wikipedia), more than 70% of the cultivated land is devoted to rice planting. It is not surprising, therefore, that tales and legends have always flourished according to the seasons or regional geographical areas. And the tale without which there would be, today, neither rice farming nor rice, is obviously that of Nang Khosop (Lady Khosop, ນາງໂກສົບ or ນາງໂຄສົບ) or Mae Khosop (Mother Khosop ແມ່ໂຄສົບ).
As I was writing these lines, I saw myself sitting on a piece of wood, or sometimes on a low chair made by me (Tàng ຕັ່ງ), next to my grandmother, listening to her telling the extraordinary stories of the tales and legends of the Lao country, around a small fire where taro, sweet potato, fish or even sometimes Banc khaolam (ບັ້ງເຂົ້າຫລາມ) were cooking. Our eyes were filled with wonder, our hearts were throbbing, and our imaginations were among the stars (I now understand the real meaning of “Stars are the limit”). Infinite respect and gratitude, Grandma, nicknamed Mae-Gnai, for this transmission of our beautiful culture…
Shopping in Heaven
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, Heaven and Earth were side by side, living in communion, collaborating in all domains, sharing almost everything. And the inhabitants could come and go from one universe to the other thanks to a giant liana, or a tree, magical of course. There was no need to work to feed oneself: one had just to make a trip in Heaven and harvest in the fields of the celestial father all that one needed: rice, honey, and even fish… Just like, nowadays, when we get to the supermarket as soon as we need -or want- something. With, a special condition at the time: they had nothing to pay…
According to an African story of the Mosi ethnic group told by Louis-Vincent Thomas (1979), the sky was so close to the earth that one only had to cut a piece of the clouds with a knife to satisfy one’s hunger. The proximity of the sky and the earth was obviously found among the T’ai, the Melanesians and the Amerindians. In the rice-growing territories, this special relationship between Heaven and Earth produced rice grains of a size beyond comprehension, of an inexhaustible abundance and of a sublime taste. Moreover, these grains flew by themselves from the rice fields to the granaries when they were ripe. However, this dream life could come to a sudden end because of an irascible widow (Pottier), a lazy woman (Wikisource) or an evil woman (Poiré-Maspero), or a bad king who does not observe the precepts of Buddhism and who hates his people (Nithan Nang Khosop). Therefore, human beings must now work the land, tend the rice plants, and pamper the soul of the rice to obtain food and merchandise.
« That’s real life, you never get anything without effort, everything must be earned and requires work, » Mae-Gnai used to emphasize, coughing with an unspeakable happiness.
A hypersensitive soul
Indeed, the separation of Heaven and Earth, as well as the end of the original, total, almost heavenly rice, had forced human beings to hard work before they could satisfy their hunger. Moreover, they owe a special consideration to the Mother Rice (Mae-khao ແມ່ເຂົ້າ), or the soul of rice, who has become sickly sensitive since the suffering endured at the hands of the irascible widow or various lazy, conceited, selfish characters or those blinded by limitless greed. Obayashi Taryo (1984) has perfectly measured this dimension as well as the importance of the Rice-mother: « The soul of rice has particular features: its sensitivity and its fragility. This soul will quickly flee if it is wounded. And if the soul of the rice has run away, the rice will not bear any fruit!«
« You must eat all the rice grains without throwing any away, otherwise Mea-khao will not be happy and will deprive you of food, » Mea-Gnai liked to remind us without ever raising her voice like all wise beings with a great experience of life. According to some specialists of Japanese culture, each grain of rice contains 88 gods, and everyone (child or adult) has the obligation not to leave any grain of rice in his bowl in order not to displease these 88 deities! In China, rice is so sacred a food that no one is allowed, under any circumstances, to throw it away at the risk of being punished by the God of Lightning.
On the importance of the number « 8 » in Sino-Japanese cosmology, CF. https://laosmonamour.wordpress.com/2016/04/12/nouvel-an-chinois-pimay-lao-la-fete-des-symboles/.
Rice and Buddhism inseparable
According to Nithan Nang Khosop of Vat Sisakét in Vientiane, translated by Charles Archaimbault (1973) and analysed by Richard Pottier, rice is closely linked to Buddhism. For one thing, the gigantic grains (1.20 m long) of celestial rice discovered in the gardens of King Viroupaka a pious man, and whose taste was equal to that of coconut milk or buffalo milk, had been generated in Heaven by the merits of Buddha Koukousanto (Kakkusandha in Pali), the fourth of the series of seven Buddhas who had already lived during the present cosmic era. (In Buddhist cosmogony, a cosmic era is the interval of time between the appearance of a world and its destruction). An additional element of the celestial character of rice: it was a hermit, a religious man, who revealed the true nature of the fruit picked in the royal park and encouraged people to eat it, thus spreading Buddhism.
Since then, this heavenly rice has been the food of human beings, generation after generation, for forty thousand years and the entry into nirvana of Buddha Koukousanto. « The existence of rice is inseparable from that of Buddhism. As soon as people eat rice, religion flourishes. In a way, eating rice is already being Buddhist, » noted Richard Pottier.
After eight thousand years without the Enlightened One, Buddha Konakhom (Konagamana in Pali) was born and reached nirvana at the age of thirty thousand years, while the grains of celestial rice, although smaller (63 cm long), remained fragrant and tasty. Then followed a period of seven thousand years during which the religion was without Buddha, but men continued to live in abundance and happiness thanks to the celestial rice.
A widow with seven husbands
In those days, there was also a cantankerous old widow whose seven husbands had left her no children, let alone grandchildren. One day, she went to get wood to build a new granary, but the ripe rice was flying to the village and piled up on the ground in front of her house. When she came back home, the widow became furious and hit the rice with a club to smash it to bits. Some fragments of the rice fell into a forest and turned into taro and tubers. The rice spirit was very angry and urged the other fragments to follow her to the original lake. And the rice took, then, the name of Nang Khosop and refused to return among the men during a thousand years. This was the time of disappearance and famine.
If Western ethnologists, such as Richard Pottier, see in the widow the main character of the transformation of celestial rice into domestic rice, i.e., the passage from the time of innocence, abundance, and carefree behaviour to that of a structured society, organized around laws and rules, with of course rights and duties, rewards, and punishments (good and evil, the beginnings of Buddhism), a first lesson can be established. Namely, as my grandmother had pointed out, that in real life, one never gets anything without effort, nor without compensation. But the fact that the widow had got married seven times and that for seven times her husband died without leaving her any offspring already illustrates, in filigree, that she had lived in sin, bab (ບາບ, or wrongful actions, immoral actions), that she has a very bad karma. Yet the number « 7 » has great importance in Chinese culture (combination of yin, yang and the five elements -metal, wood, water, fire, and earth) and in Buddhism (the 7 factors of enlightenment, the 7 steps taken by Buddha at his birth, the death of his mother 7 days after giving birth to him, the 7 possessions of a monk, etc.).
However, the fact that she was able to commit collective responsibility -and in an irrevocable and definitive way- on an individual initiative shows that she was a key figure in the transformation of Humanity, even if, unlike Nang Khosop and Phou Gneu Gna Gneu in particular, she is not entitled to any devotional ritual, or even a simple recognition. Strangely, moreover, all the characters responsible (guilty?) for the disappearance of the total, original rice, have never been admitted to the pantheon of ancestors and are therefore not entitled to any filial piety. The widow’s problem is, on the other hand, the perfect illustration of the Lao wisdom « Pa to diao nao mot khong » (ປາ ໂຕດຽວ ເໜົ່າ ໝົດຂ້ອງ, one fish rots a whole basket). In contrast, the merits (boun, ບຸນ) of a single Buddha can enable all of Humanity to enjoy the benefits of celestial rice and its abundance (Cf. supra and infra).
“You are tied to religion »
One day, the son of a rich man (setthi in Pali and ເສດຖີ in Lao) -eh yes, not everyone was affected equally by famine and malnutrition- got lost in the forest where Nang Khosop had taken up residence, caught a golden carp in a stream. The king of the fishes came to his rescue and offered to exchange him for Nang Khosop. The rice goddess flew through the air and landed next to the young man but refused to follow him into the human world because of the abuse inflicted by the widow. It took the intervention and help of two Thevada (from the Pâli devata), disguised as a golden deer and a parrot, for her to agree to go and feed the men and put the religion back on the path of prosperity. « O Nang Khosop, go away! Do not remain in the lake, go to feed the men so that the religion progresses. You were born with Buddhism, and you are tied to religion!”, the king of fishes begged.
When Buddha Kassapa, the sixth Enlightened One of the current cosmic era was born, the rice grains were only 72 cm long and still had all their flavour. When Buddha Kassapa attained nirvana at the age of four thousand years, he left Buddhism to itself for six thousand years, until the birth of Siddhartha Gotama (Gautama in Sanskrit). And when the historical Buddha entered nirvana at the age of eighty years, the rice still decreased in size even though it was still 24 cm tall. More than 20 times its current size…
One thousand and twelve years after Gotama‘s death, a wicked monarch ruled without any respect for Buddhist precepts, hated his people and exchanged rice in stock for silver, gold, horses, elephants, and slaves while his subjects suffered from drought, lack of rain and deprivation. Irritated by such behaviour, Nang Khosop decided to return to her former home on the mountain where the hermit was practicing meditation. Once the rice was gone, famine raged for three hundred and twenty years, men died of hunger, and the evil monarch also perished.
Respect and gratitude
« We always owe respect and gratitude to Mae-khao for her gift of the essence of life. Hence the obligation to thank her at the end of each meal, with folded hands and a slight bow of the head while pronouncing Sathou, even when eating alone, » my grandmother liked to remind us around the fire where we warmed ourselves before going to bed.
Her incomparable experience of life dictated that she should be very careful in the management of our rice stock, each grain of which was cherished and treated with great consideration. Even though we had plots in different parts of the communal rice fields, some of which were located beyond the reach of floods, she knew that no one was safe from the « great wrath » of Heaven as when I was twelve or thirteen years old. That year, the Mekong River had left its bed to mingle with the waters of the rivers and the rain that had fallen continuously for days, flooding even our village. The joy of fishing and wading in the water at the foot of the stairs of our house, combined with the closing of the schools, had gradually turned into a diffuse anxiety even for us youngsters who are, by definition, carefree, without responsibility and enjoying everything for fun. It was that year that I had been able to taste, for the first time, the wheat, donated by an international humanitarian organization, that the villagers had steamed like glutinous rice.
This love, this deep respect for the essence of life, undoubtedly contributed to push me to actively participate, later, in the work of rice cultivation: to carefully carry the bundles of seedlings on the luggage rack of my motorcycle (a small feat to ride on these small bundles without falling!), to do the transplanting, the harvesting and the threshing under the moonlight…. Ah the simple happiness of walking in rice fields where golden ears of rice were waving in search of the last pockets of water, synonymous with fish with tender flesh and a taste so delicate and exquisite!
And when all the paddy was stored in the granaries, it was time to celebrate the Mother Rice, or Nang Khosop, to thank her for the beautiful harvest of the year, and the hope of an equally promising result in the future. This is Boun Khounkhao (ບຸນຄຸນເຂົ້າ) or Boun Khounlane (ບຸນຄູນລານ) or the Rice Harvest Festival.
The three hundred and twenty years of famine following the second disappearance of Nang Khosop must occupy a special place in the collective unconscious of all rice farmers, even if this terrible memory is repressed deep within each being.
« Plant Nang Khosop… »
According to Nithan Nang Khosop of Vat Sisakét, the two Thevadas who had contributed to bringing back among men, a first time, the Mother-Rice, led one day a couple of old slaves, named Pou Gneu Gna Gneu (Grandfather Gneu Grandmother Gneu) -it would probably be more appropriate to translate « Pou » and « Gna » (paternal grandparents in Lao) by « ancestors » in this context- to the same hermit, protector of Nang Khosop.
On the verge of exhaustion, they asked for food. Moved by their miserable physical condition, the hermit said: « O couple! Here is a precious gift; here is a food that maintains life and religion. Take Nang Khosop and plant her so that life will continue! » Nang Khosop protested and said she wanted to stay with the hermit, reminding him of the abuse inflicted by the widow and the evil king. But the religious had only one idea in mind: to keep Buddhism alive and flourishing. So, to prevent Nang Khosop from running away again, he tore her body to pieces which turned into black rice, white rice, mandarin rice, and sticky rice. With no more resistance, Nang Khosop held her breath and died; her body, transformed into a stone, remained lifeless on the mountain top. In the future, when the seventh and last Buddha of the present cosmic era, Metteyya (Maitreya in Sanskrit), is born, 5,000 years after Gautama’s death, all the varieties of rice will come together to form the original rice.
After dyeing the wings and tail of the Mother-Rice, throwing away her liver and heart, which became the « rice of the beginning« , the hermit made a pole with the vertebrae, ribs and shins of the goddess; he made a flag with her entrails and stomach. The nerves, blood, eyes, mouth, teeth, and head of Nang Khosop were transformed into two genies, called « the genies of the first sowing« , in charge of strengthening the « rice of the beginning« . He also gave a gatha (ຄາຖາ magic formula or incantation) to the old slaves, charging them with the task of establishing rice farming, saving people from starvation, and contributing to the prosperity of Buddhism.
Pou Gneu Gna Gneu fulfilled their mission so well that rice grew and flourished throughout the world, giving birth to a prodigious multitude of small grains, and providing humans with abundant food and a happy life. After ordering Nang Khosop and the genies of the first seedling to watch over the rice, the two old persons passed away at the age of 964.
Ancestors
It is interesting to note that, in the T’ai cosmology, Pou Gneu/Gna Gneu could be indifferently the Thene (celestial beings, from the Chinese Thiari), the founders of the earth (In Luang Prabang, the people assuming the role of ancestors with red masks and costumes during the Lao Pimay, « dance from one foot to the other as if they were trampling the ground to drain an imaginary water” (Archaimbault), saviours of humanity (Nithan Khoun Borom), or even the first agricultural deities (Couteau), or a sort of Adam and Eve of the T’ai people. A certainty and an inescapable reality though: Pou Gneu/Gna Gneu are an integral part of our everyday life since, and Richard Pottier has finely pointed out, by asking the other guests to sit down around the food tray (phakhao ພາເຂົ້າ), the head of the family is ipso facto inviting the ancestors, since in the spoken language the word gneu is both the name of the ancestors and a mark of the imperative.
In fact, this locution Ma-Gneu, Ma Kine Khao Nam Gneu (Come, come and share our meal) is a way to pay tribute to the sacrifices of these two old persons, considered by some as the first humans sent on earth. Besides, the T’ai people used to call: yeur-ma-yeur (ma-kîne-khao-nam-kanh-yeur – ເຢີ້ມາເຢີ້ ມາກີນເຂົ້າ ນໍາກັນ ເຢີ້). Over time, the expression became by extension Ma-yeur Pou-Gneu/Gna-Gneu ma-kîne-khao-nam-kanh-yeur. Richard Pottier sees it as a manifestation of « filial piety » in the Laotian way. « Children are indebted to their parents for their entire lives because they owe them their lives and the gift of life can never be repaid, » says the French ethnologist.
This is undoubtedly one of the reasons why Lao nationals (wherever they may be) continue to « feed » their deceased ancestors, in the same way as they take care of the protective and tutelary genies, and to pass on to them the boun or merits. On this age-old practice, CF. https://laosmonamour.wordpress.com/2021/07/27/nourrir-directement-des-esprits-entre-realite-et-mystere/.
Orality and extraordinary beings
It is surprising that my grandmother only spoke to us about Mae-khao, and never about Nang Khosop or Mae Khosop. One of the main reasons was probably the oral tradition of societies that were not yet touched by writing and even less by digital technology. Therefore, our grandparents favoured the simplicity of names –Mae-khao speaks to everyone, since each of us has a mother-, just like when they told us the extraordinary stories of the characters of tales and legends, capable of pulling 100 carts, or flying like birds, or traveling in the water or under the earth, or able to foresee the future or to see what happens thousands of kilometres away. They did not need to mention a specific name, as they just had to talk about the qualities of these characters by prefacing them with the personal pronoun Thao (sir): « Thao Kè kiane hoy lam » (ທ້າວ ແກ່ກຽນຮ້ອຍລໍາ, the one who pulls 100 carts), « Thao dam dine » or « Bin bonh » (ທ້າວດໍາດີນ or ບີນບົນ, the one who travels under the earth or flies in the air), and so on.
« Mae-Khao has always existed; she appeared at the same time as rice. In fact, Mae-khao and rice are the same person. One cannot live and prosper without the other. She is the deity who protects the rice, helps it to produce beautiful grains and feed human beings, » my grandmother emphasized before detailing all the rituals to ensure a good rice harvest.
« We must always show our respect and gratitude to the nature that surrounds us and nourishes us, as well as to the invisible beings – ancestors, guardian genies, protector genies of the place, and so on – who accompany and protect us throughout our existence. Thus, before putting the seeds to soak for germination, one must go to the attic with a Khanha (ຂັນຫ້າ five pairs of candles, incense, and flowers) to seek permission to move the seeds. Then, it is necessary to pay homage to the geniuses of the rice fields, that it is Phi Taherk or the genius of the first sowing, and obviously Mae-Khao has right to a particular ritual, including a Baci during the Boun Khounlane (ບຸນຄູນລານ) or Boun Kongkhao (ບຸນກອງເຂົ້າ)… « , recounted Mae Gnaï
Mae Khosop and Nang Khosop…
If Nang Khosop is the soul of rice, and even Mother-rice in the version of Wat Sisakét, she plays an even more active role in other Nithan concerning the arrival of rice on earth. Thus, in a version told by Prof. Soulang Detvongsa, a former member of the Royal Academy of Laos, Nang Khosop was personally responsible for bringing the huge grains of rice (the size of coconuts) from Heaven out of pity for humans who had only tubers to eat. And she took it upon herself to give the instructions: how to cut delicately the rice grain, how not to open it with an axe or a cutter, how to cook it, and so on. One day, however, an old man, no doubt tortured by hunger and in a greater hurry than usual, took an axe to open his rice grain, injuring the soul of the rice – that is, Nang Khosop – who fled without ever wanting to return to the world of men despite their repeated pleas. As she left, she also cursed the humans who would now have to work hard to obtain tiny grains, and no longer fruits the size of coconuts.
Jeanne Cuisinier (1946) reported that among the Muong of Vietnam, it was the rice itself that had decided not to retain its original large size: « If I had kept my previous size, you would have had so much difficulty in carrying me. Out of pity for you, I have become very small so that you can carry me more easily to the granary… »
In notes written by Prof. Simmonds from the account of an inhabitant of Ban Nasai, near Vientiane (1956), and quoted by Terwiel (1994), Mae Phosop went to live in the mountains, after being cursed by a widow unable to work in the fields, bringing along with her the rice whose grains were the size of a coconut. No man, nor any animal could cross the cracks caused by the clashing of the stones. Except for the Taphian fish (Pla taphian, Puntius javanicus according to McFarland) which insinuated itself to the hiding place of the Rice Goddess, swallowed her before bringing her back to the world of humans.
Coconut and water lilies
The comparison of the celestial grain of rice with the coconut in these two stories is incredibly relevant because the coconut is the only fruit tree on earth that gives almost celestial water (juice) with a delicious flavour and crystal purity. Even when the coconut tree grows near a swamp or in a wastewater dump. Like the Dork boua (ດອກບົວ, water lily) which, taking root in mud, then makes their way through the water to come floating on the surface, catching the sun’s rays and nutrients and giving flowers, beautiful and fragrant, as if they had grown in a divine soil. Supreme recognition of the divine qualities of coconut water: it is used for the last mortuary bath before the coffin and catafalque are set on fire, in the region of Thakhek (central Laos).
And every time I stand in front of a coconut tree, drinking with delectation its nectar directly from its nut, I cannot help myself from being subjugated by the alchemy achieved by this extraordinary tree, wondering, again and again, how Mother Nature creates such a delicate drink when the environment and the basic components do not seem to lend themselves to it at all! Especially since, when we cut a coconut tree, no liquid is released from its trunk…
These allegories (coconut tree + dirt = divine water; water lily + mud = divine beauty) put us in the presence of a very beautiful and admirable lesson of life and challenge us with violence. Namely that everyone, as poor and destitute as he may be, as ill-served by fate or birth as he may be, has a real chance to succeed in life, to realize his wildest dream. But he will have to put all his heart into his work, devote all his energy to his life project, while respecting the balance and harmony of opposites, and finally never stop questioning himself and keeping his mind and heart wide open… Without forgetting, of course, the unavoidable respect for traditions and the land that allowed him to be born, while paying a strong and continuous tribute to the Triple Jewel and the ancestors, his roots of life.
Nine grains of life…
In a version posted by a Thai man and entitled Tamnane Mae Phosop (ຕໍານານແມ່ໂພສົບ Legend of Mother Phosop), Mae Khuan Khao (ແມ່ຂັວນເຂົ້າ) or the soul of rice, or the goddess of rice was already among humans and brought them food and abundance. She was honoured with a Baci each time the paddy was used, whether for daily consumption or for trade. People paid tribute to her, thanked her for her generosity, and asked her permission and forgiveness for having to eat « her » rice.
One day, during a meeting of goddesses, including Mae Phosop, humans, and animals -at the time animals could speak-, it was declared that Buddha was the one who gave the most service to human beings. Offended by the ingratitude of the humans whom she nourished since always, the soul of rice went to take refuge in the Himaphane forest (ປ່າຫີມະພານ, literally forest of cashew, but it is here about a celestial forest), causing then deprivation and famine among the humans. The latter sent a delegation to request an audience with Buddha. « It is because of your ingratitude towards Mae Phosop that she had left« , the Enlightened One decided while asking one of his close disciples to leave in search of Mae Phosop.
However, having reached the intersection of two mountain ranges, the Buddha’s envoy could no longer continue his way and entrusted the mission of finding the soul of the rice to the slat fish, the only living being able to slip into the crevices where Mae Phosop was hiding. But despite the repeated pleas of the fish, the goddess of rice refused to follow him. She did, however, agree to save humanity by giving nine grains of seed, along with recommendations for a bountiful harvest to come: « Hold a Baci in my honour when the rice begins to fill up, and after the harvest call me and I will come to visit you. Finally, once the rice is in the granaries, make a new Baci with, among other things, the slat fish, which had found me in my hiding place, as food for the Khuan… »
If the narrator does not explicitly mention religious motivations in the gift of the seeds of Mae Phosop, everything indicates that she had done it in order to contribute to the development and the prosperity of Buddhism since the humans had gone to ask Buddha for advice, that the Enlightened One had decided to help them by sending one of his closest disciples (Phra Madouly) in search of Mae Phosop, and that, finally, it was Buddha himself who distributed the seeds to the humans so that their fields and rice plantations would be filled again with rice, synonymous with abundance and life!
Seven grains of rice
This 2012 version was probably taken from Nithan Chawban 1 and 2, by Krom Sinlapakon (ກຣົມສີນລະປະກອນ, Department of Thai Fine Arts, 1971) where it was about a « mistaken remark of Buddha » which pushed Mae Phosop or Phaisop and Phra Phetchalukam (the artificer of the gods and the divine architect of the universe, according to a note from Terwiel) to go and take refuge on the top of Mount Diamond, causing famine among humans. The Awakened One delegated one of his disciples Matuli, whom Terwiel thinks is Matali, Indra’s chariot driver, to search for Mother Rice. As in the most recent version, the Buddha’s envoy was blocked by the entanglement of two mounts. He then called upon the fish Lat (Pla lat in Thai according to McFarland, 1969) to convey Buddha’s invitation. « I will never return, but if mankind now considers that I do possess virtue, after all, I will send them seven grains of rice, » said the Mother-Rice, instructing the Lat fish to tell the humans to hold a Khouan ceremony when the rice was almost ripe.
« Let them prepare a tray to invite the rice Khouan and set up a pole with lotus-shaped cups at the place where I will rest, » added Mother-Rice.
And of course, it was up to the Buddha to distribute the rice grains and metal given by Phra Phetchalukam (for making bush knives), as well as Mother Rice’s instructions, to the humans, who can now enjoy the benefits of rice and its abundance.
Slat fish, the stars
In Cambodia, a similar legend, reported by Eveline Poiré-Maspero, also featured the rice goddess, called Prah Peisràp –Peisràp comes from the Sanskrit vraisrava (wealth) and is itself the origin of Khosop, Phosop and Phaisop– the slat fish, but also an evil woman of bad character. The latter hit the paddy with a paddle as it entered her house after having travelled by air from the rice fields. The paddy became frightened and fled to hide in a stone crevice of the mountain. No man or animal was able to catch it. Only a slat fish, with compassion for men, patiently, stubbornly, crept into the crevice until it reached Prah Peisràp. Its prayers and repeated entreaties finally convinced the Goddess of Rice to return to the human world to satisfy their hunger. She did, however, bring about profound changes in the cultivation of rice.
The paddy, which until then had flown from the rice fields to the granaries on its own when ripe, now required a lot of hard work before it could be eaten. Thus, from then on, it was necessary to plough, to sow, to transplant, to take care of the rice fields, to harvest, to thresh the rice and to transport it to the village. In addition, the Goddess decreed that rice would only grow during the rainy season. In two other variants, the slàt fish also played the main role. But unlike the Lao and Thai versions, it was Prah Peisràp who personally and immediately put an end to the celestial rice and at the same time established rice farming as it is practiced today, with all the corresponding social and societal organization.
Although there is no explicit mention of Buddhism in these two legends, the actions of the Goddess of rice and the slat fish are strongly imbued with Buddhist virtues such as compassion (karuna), empathy (mudita), benevolence (metta) and equanimity (upekha), to which one can add patience and obstinacy.
Patience and perseverance
In any case, we’ve got an important lesson of life from these legends: the patience and perseverance of the slat fish, which, like all fish, would only be carried away by the water if they were sick or dead. Otherwise, any fish worthy of the name will always try, again and again, despite the obstacles, to go upstream towards the place of its birth (like the salmon) or simply upstream. The cyclical upswing of fish in the sometimes-tumultuous water of the Mekong River -from Tonle Sap, in Cambodia, to China, crossing Laos- was one of the most beautiful memories of my youth.
As strange as it may seem, the elders could read in the clouds the exact moment of the arrival of the shoals of fish at our village. It was then a rush to go to the Mekong River and collect these fishes in « kha » (ຂາ, a kind of cone with a flat part and two sides raised and connected. The whole thing is made with a board of woven bamboo strips, inside which branches have been placed to serve as shelter for the fish). The « kha » are placed in the water, hung on a pole with the open side facing downstream. The « kha » are lifted in the evening or in the morning, outside the periods of fish migration, by pulling them onto the bank (or directly into a dugout canoe) and the fish are recovered either through a small opening placed at the back or by lifting them by the sharp end to empty their contents. The « kha » are one of the « passive » fishing instruments of the Lao along with hooks (bet ເບັດ) and nets (mong ມອງ). They are set in the water overnight before being raised in the early morning, we call « yam kha, yam bet and yam mong » (ຢາມຂາ ຢາມເບັດ ຢາມມອງ), the term « yam » means in Lao « to call on ». As a matter of fact, we “yam” and check these fishing instruments to collect fish.
The legend of the slàt fish wonderfully illustrates a Lao wisdom: Kao ot kao yeuane hark si dai thone kham (ເກົ້າອົດ ເກົ້າເຍື້ອນ ຫາກຊິໄດ້ ຖ່ອນຄໍາ, with patience and perseverance, one will obtain a gold ingot). On the perseverance and resilience of fish, and Koi carp in particular, CF. https://laosmonamour.wordpress.com/2016/04/12/nouvel-an-chinois-pimay-lao-la-fete-des-symboles/.+
Let’s conclude this beautiful tale, multi-faceted but with the same and unique message –Rice is the mother of all life and is inextricably linked to Buddhism-, with one of my grandmother’s favourite life lessons: « Rice is a gift of nature. It nourishes and gives life without distinction to rich and poor. But it only leaves its vital essence to true people, those who respect nature, those who are grateful to their ancestors and lineage, and those who are unwavering in their love for Mother Earth, or Mae Thorany… »
SOURCES
Archaimbault, Charles – « Les rites agraires dans le Moyen-Laos », Structures religieuses lao (Rites et mythes), Ed. Vithagna, Vientiane, 1973
Couteau, Geneviève – Mémoires du Laos, Editions Seghers – Paris, 1988
Detvongsa, Soulang – ສັດສາວາສີ່ງ ຕ່າງໆ ມັກຊັງ ມະນຸດ (Satsa Vasing Tantan Mark Sang Manud. Les animaux ont tendance à détester les humains), Communication personnelle, mai 2021
Geay-Drillien, Dominique – Les liens entre rites et mythe d’origine. Le rituel associé aux Devata Luang : Pou Gneu et Gna Gneu, in
https://www.academia.edu/40559767/Le_rituel_associ%C3%A9_au_Devata_Luang_Pou_Gneu_Gna_Gneu
Krom Sinlapakon – Nithan Chawban : Phak thi 1, Phak thi 2, 1971, Bangkok.
McFarland, George Bradley – Thai-English Dictionary, Stanford University Press, 1969
Poiré-Maspero, Evelyne – Etude sur les rites agraires des Cambodgiens, in https://books.google.fr/books?id=xXqcDwAAQBAJ&pg=PA22&lpg=PA22&dq=cambodge+poisson+slat&source=bl&ots=Oj2yem12eR&sig=ACfU3U3sK_N-QV2Ng-ubTzGfNj_yMNig5w&hl=fr&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj8tuzEgN3uAhVOxIUKHapWD6YQ6AEwEXoECBEQAg#v=onepage&q=cambodge%20poisson%20slat&f=false
Pottier, Richard – Anthropologie du mythe 2. Deuxième partie : La déesse du riz, pp. 74-100, Editions Kimé, Paris, 2012, in http://editionskime.fr
La danse des Pou Gneu Gna Gneu à Luang Prabang, in https://collect–ion.efeo.fr/ws/web/app/collection/expo/14
ຕໍານານແມ່ໂພສົບ (Tamnane Mè Phosop), 2012, in https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdQeSZ735Ys
Taryo, Obayashi – Mythes et légendes du riz, in Le Courrier de l’Unesco : Civilisation du riz, déc. 1984, N°412
Terwiel, Barend J. – Rice Legends in Mainland Southeast Asia: History and ethnography in the study of myths of origins, in Anthony R. Walker, Rice in Southeast Asian Myth and Ritual, pp. 5-36, 1994
Thomas, Louis-Vincent – A propos de la mort africaine. Revue française de psychanalyse, XLIII-3, N° spécial « Mythes et psychanalyse », 1979, pp. 463-468
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