Watch-Pot And Greedy

This tale has been adapted from the original for readability:

One day, long ago, there were two men. One lived to the east, and he was known for being greedy. The other lived to the west, and he was known for turning up and hanging around until food was served.

The greedy man heard about this visitor and said to himself, “No matter how he tries, he’ll never get a mouthful out of me.” But the visitor heard about the greedy man too, how no stranger ever ate in his house, and he thought, “I’ll eat his rice yet.”

So one morning the visitor set out for the east. He packed a box with all sorts, cloth, tools, nails, saws, the kind of things a carpenter might carry. When he got near the greedy man’s farm, word reached ahead that a stranger was on the road. The greedy man hurried and killed a big wild hog, cut it up, and had his wife cook plenty of it, far more than usual, because if the stranger was going to sit and watch the pot, then he would at least have to watch a fine one.

When the visitor arrived, he greeted him politely. The greedy man told him to sit down. The visitor opened his box and offered a piece of cloth as a gift.

“What’s your name?” the greedy man asked.

“Watch-pot,” said the visitor. “I came to pay my respects. I heard about you.”

“My name is Greedy,” the man replied, and he tried to send him off. “Right then, go into town, and I’ll meet you later.”

But Watch-pot shook his head. “How can I go? I don’t know a soul in town but you. Let’s go together this evening.”

So he stayed. He stayed all day, right there by the fire, and the smell of food filled the house. The greedy man warned his wife in a low voice that this stranger was not going to get any of the rice. As the hours dragged on, the children began to cry with hunger. Still the visitor did not move.

At last the greedy man came up with a plan. He told his wife, “I’ll lie down and pretend to be sick. After a while I’ll act as if I’m dead. You go and tell the people in town I’ve died. Once they’ve gone, I’ll get up and we’ll eat the rice.”

So he lay down and groaned, then grew quiet, as if life had left him. His wife wrung her hands and said to the visitor, “This morning you came to greet my husband, and look at him now, he’s dead. Go and tell the people in town.”

But Watch-pot refused. “You’re the woman here, you go and tell them. I’m the man, let me stay by my friend until you return.”

She tried again. “Who will wash him?”

“I will,” said Watch-pot. “He’s my friend. I’m not afraid.”

She said, “Then go into town and buy white cloth.”

“Wait,” said Watch-pot, and he opened his box and produced white cloth at once.

She said, “My husband always said that when he died, he wanted a coffin. Go and buy boards.”

“Get up from that bench,” Watch-pot told her. He took the bench apart, sawed it into planks, and nailed a coffin together as neatly as if he had been doing it all his life.

The wife watched, thinking hard, and tried to find another way to save her husband’s plan. When night came, she said, “We need wood for the fire.”

Watch-pot gathered the cut pieces and made a great blaze that lasted until morning. Then she tried again. “Dig a hole, so we can bury him out in the bush.”

Watch-pot stared at her. “Bury the master of this farm out in the bush? No. I’ll bury him right here in the house, and mend the floor so no one will ever know.”

The wife swallowed her frustration and said, “Go behind the house a moment. I want to say goodbye to my husband.”

Watch-pot stepped out, but he did not go far. Behind the house, she hissed at her husband, “Get up. This man is going to bury you.”

From where he lay, the greedy man muttered, “Let him bury me, but he won’t eat my rice.”

Watch-pot returned and set to work. The wife tried one last trick and hid the hoe, hoping he would have to go into town to fetch one. But Watch-pot opened his box and pulled out digging tools, then dug and dug until the hole was deep enough. He lowered the coffin into it and told the wife, “Say your farewell. When you’re done, I’ll place him inside.”

Again she sent him behind the house, and again she warned her husband, “Get up. He’s going to bury you.”

“Let him,” the greedy man said. “He still won’t eat my rice.”

So Watch-pot lifted the greedy man and laid him in the coffin. He arranged him carefully, then began to cover it with earth. When only a little remained, he packed the soil hard, as if he meant to finish the job properly. The greedy man’s eyes flickered open, just enough to see what was coming, and he panicked.

“Pull me out,” he hissed. “You can bury me later, but my rice, you mustn’t eat it, that’s why I did all this!”

Watch-pot hauled him out. The wife snatched up the rice, the greedy man grabbed the soup, and together they bolted into the bush. In their rush they forgot the calabash and the wooden spoon they needed to dish the rice.

Watch-pot picked them up and followed. He found them settled behind a big tree, looking miserable.

The wife said, “We haven’t got the calabash or the spoon.”

Watch-pot stepped out cheerfully. “Do you mean these? You left them behind, so I brought them.”

The wife, relieved, said, “Hand them here.”

And Watch-pot sat down and ate with them. When they finished, he smiled and said, “Thank you to the one who cooked the rice.”

The greedy man, angry, snapped, “I didn’t cook it.”

“Then thank you to the one who soaked the rice.”

“I didn’t soak it.”

“Then thank you to the one who cleared the land and planted it.”

“That’s none of your business. I didn’t plant it.”

Watch-pot looked at him. “So how did you come by it, then?”

The greedy man scowled. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me anything.”

“Fair enough,” said Watch-pot. “Goodbye.”

“If you like, go,” the greedy man replied. “If you like, stay. It’s no concern of mine.”

So Watch-pot gathered his things and left.

Now tell me, which of them was the clever one?