Hans in Luck

On first appearances Hans im Glueck  appears to be the antithesis of the Indian folktale, The Drum. In the latter tale the wish is fulfilled but only when the seeker is prepared to relinquish everything he is given along his journey. Each gift increases in value until finally he has what he wants. Inversely the seeker in the German folktale, Hans im Glueck begins with his fortune and on his journey trades it away.  Both of these stories are in my top 10 all time favourite folktales to tell. Like The Drum which also has many African variants and undoubtedly provenance in European and other Asian cultures, Hans im Glueck also has many variants. A. Steven Evans has written a wonderful analysis of its Bhutanese counterpart  Meme Haylay Haylay and the cultural importance of this particular folktale to the Bhutanese people. Arne Thompson categorises the Hans Im Glueck tales as type 1415: Trading away one’s fortune. But what does a folktale about a boy (the archetype of the fool) who gives away his fortune, offer me, a middle aged woman living in the 21st century?
Like all folktales this one can be taken at face value. This is an entertaining chain tale about a foolish boy who gives away all he has worked for and ends up with nothing. It is easy to view the characters in the tale as charlatans, playing on the naivety of the lad and cheating him at each turn when he goes out into the world. And yet it is possible to also see this tale from another perspective; one where everyone gets what they want, especially Hans, who secures freedom from the burden of care and worry. He is happy. And that is ultimately what all human beings strive for. This tale serves me in two ways: to challenge the way I see  things and show me a path to experiencing happiness. In the words of the Dalai Lama,  Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.
Hans im Glueck (Hans in Luck)

Hans worked for seven long years for the farmer and at the end of this time, went to him and asked for his wages. His employer was very pleased with the lad’s work and paid him handsomely. He have him a lump of silver as large as his head. Hans placed it carefully in a sack and swung it onto his back and began his journey home.

Hans trudged along burdened by the weight of the silver. When a horseman trotted towards him he watched in awe. To travel freely along on horseback would be a treat. He dropped the sack on the ground and the rider stopped to greet him.

“Oh to ride such a fine pony,” he said, “but I have to walk carrying along this lump of silver that makes my back ache. You wouldn’t want to swap your horse for my silver ?” he asked.

The rider climbed down and examined the sack. His eyes lit up as he lugged the sack on to his back.

“Why that would be a fine trade,” he said, and handed the reins over to Hans.

Hans mounted the horse, who immediately launched into a gallop. Hans hung on for dear life but when the animal jumped over a fallen log, Hans went flying through the air and landed on his backside in the middle of a ditch. The horse would have run off altogether if a shepherd leading a cow hadn’t stopped him and brought him back to Hans.

Hans looked at the docile cow and smiled. 

“Now there’s an animal who would never hurt anyone and what’s more she’s good company and useful. I would always have milk if i had a cow, and I could make cheese as well.”

Hans smiled at the shepherd.

“Would you consider exchanging your cow for my horse?” he asked.

The shepherd was delighted and handed over the lead rope of the cow and jumped up onto the horse’s back, gripped the reins firmly between his fingers, he trotted off.

Hans was hungry and took out a bread roll from his food bag. He would need some milk to drink with it. He took out his wooden cup and walked behind the cow and set about trying to milk her. But the cow was having none of it and gave him such a kick to the head that he lay dazed upon the ground. Luckily a butcher passed by pushing s pig in a wheelbarrow. He stopped and helped Hans to his feet and asked him if the cow grazing on the grass was his.

“Oh yes,” he said, but she won’t give any milk and certainly not any sausages like that fat gentleman you’ve got in your barrow. You wouldn’t consider swapping your pig for my cow would you?”

The butcher rubbed his hands with glee and handed the barrow over to Hans and led the cow away.

A little while later Hans met a man carrying a fat white goose. The fellow stopped and looked at Hans’ pig.

“Did you know that the squire on the farm over the hill had his best pig stolen?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Hans, “you don’t think that this is him do you?”

“Well, I know this beautiful goose is mine but where did you get the pig?”

Hans explained about the exchanges he had made and asked whether the countryman would consider exchanging the goose for the pig. The goose owner said he would be glad to take the pig off his hands and immediately gave him the goose and took the barrow and wheeled it away quick smart.

Soon Hans found himself in a village where he saw a grinder singing while he sharpened knives and scissors at his wheel.  He saw Hans and smiled at the fat goose he was carrying.

“You are a happy man with your trade. Why is that?” Hans asked.

“Because with a sharpening stone you will always have money in your pocket,” he replied. “People always want their tools sharpened.”

“Have you such a stone to exchange for a goose?” Hans asked.

The grinder reached into a basket and took out a large stone. The two exchanged goose for stone and Hans continued on his way, listening to grinder singing in a voice louder and cheerier than before.

Hans walked on till sunset and found himself on the banks of a river. He was tired from walking and carrying the stone, so set it down on the river bank while he cupped his hands and drank from the fast flowing torrent. When he had quenched his thirst he turned and knocked the stone which immediately tumbled down into the river. In no time at all it had disappeared. 

For a moment his heart sank, but unlike the stone it rose again, happy and light. Hans jumped up and dance a joyful jig. 

“My heart is light 

And my mind is free

There are none luckier

In the world than me.

Hans walked until he reached his mother’s house and told her how very easy the road to good luck was.

References and Sources:

Evans, Steve (2007). “An Analysis of ‘Meme Haylay Haylay 
and His Turquoise’ using Joseph Campbell’s model of the 
Hero’s Journey,” Journal of Bhutan Studies, Vol.15.  
Children’s and Household Tales ( Kinder- und Hausmärchen) 1812 by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm 
Artwork: Adrift by Roman W. Schatz
Adrift
 

The Drum

This tale has evolved in meaning for me over the years I have been telling it. In my first tellings I saw it simply as a tale of  ‘exchanges’ advocating that we all have something to exchange with each other. A few years later I described it thus;  ‘ A chain tale with variants throughout the world. In this version the child wishes for a drum and through his own generosity initiates a process of exchanges and eventually has his wish granted. The drum is a metaphor for the folktale. Only when we freely give it away through the act of telling do we unleash its power to serve and transform our lives.’
Now I see this tale also as a metaphor for letting go of attachments. If we are to move on and experience all that the moment has to offer, we must be prepared to release whatever we are holding on to.
Every ‘thing’ has a purpose, but what many of us tend to do is horde ‘things’ for a time when we think it may be useful. But if we are honest, these ‘things’ often clutter our space and clog up our lives.
It is the same with storytelling: the clangor of critical words, both real and imagined, clutter our minds and the fear of failure, ridicule and dismissal, clog our channels of communication. Tell the tale,  release your fear and receive love. The rewards far outweigh the risks.
THE DRUM
There was once a boy who wanted a drum. He would walk around pretending to play a drum and singing,
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
One day his mother said that she was going to market and asked the boy if there was something she could bring back for him.
He replied,
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
His mother smiled and went on her way.
After she had sold her wares she had a few coins left to buy rice and spices, but no money to buy a gift for her son. She looked around until she found a a straight, strong stick. She picked it up and took it home.
When the boy saw his mother his eyes lit up. 
‘I have brought you something from the market,’ she said.
The boy was excited. His mother held out her hand and gave him the stick.
‘Thank you,’ he said, knowing that his mother could not afford to buy him a drum. 
But he immediately began to tap the stick against his side and sing.
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
He walked down the lane out of his village and soon came to an old woman sitting by her cook fire coughing and spluttering in a swirl of smoke.
‘What are you doing Grandmother?’ he asked.
‘Can’t you see I’m trying to light my fire but I have no dry wood and that’s why its smoking enough to choke me.’ she replied between coughs.
‘I have a dry stick,’ he said, ‘take it.’
The boy handed the old woman the stick and she lay it on her fire. The flames immediately danced around it and the smoke soon disappeared. The old woman was delighted.
‘Thank you boy,’ she said, ‘in return for your kindness have this chapati I made yesterday.’
She took the Indian flatbread from beside the fire and gave it to the boy, who smiled and continued on his way singing.
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
Soon he came to a woman making a pot out of clay. Beside her a baby wailed loudly.
‘Why is your baby crying?’ he asked.
‘Because he’s hungry,’ said the woman, ‘but I can’t get him any food until I finish making this pot.’
‘I’ve got this chapati, he can have that,’ said the boy, passing it to the baby, who took it and immediately stopping crying as he shoved it into his mouth and began to chew.
‘Thank you,’ said the mother, ‘now I can work in peace. Please boy take that pot standing by the big one. I have no use for it.’
The boy took the pot and went on his way singing,
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
It wasn’t long before he found himself beside the banks of the river watching a washerman and a woman fighting.
‘Why are you fighting?’ demanded the boy.
‘Its all her fault,’ accused the washerman, ‘she broke my best washing pot for all the silks.’ 
‘But if you hadn’t left it standing around, I wouldn’t have tripped over it,’ countered the woman.
‘I have a pot,’ said the boy, ‘why don’t you use it?’
The boy handed the pot to the washerman who took it and thanked the boy.
‘You have helped me out of a predicament boy, and I want to give you this coat as a way of saying thank you,’ he said.
The washerman left and quickly returned with a large coat and hand it to the boy who took it and continued on his way singing,
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
He was at the foot of the hills when he saw a naked man standing by a tree.
‘Why haven’t you got any clothes?’ asked the boy.
‘Because I’ve been robbed,’ answered the man, ‘and I’m freezing.’
‘Then have my coat,’ said the boy.
The man took the coat and put it on. It was then the boy noticed the horse tied up to the tree.
‘I don’t need that old horse now,’ said the man, ‘I’ve missed my appointment so I’ll just walk back home. You may as well have him.’
The boy took the horse and continued on his way back towards his village. As he walked he sang,
‘Tum de dum, I want a drum te dum, tum te dum, I want a drum.’
When he arrived back at the village he saw a great number of people all gathered in the centre, wearing their finest clothes. And yet there was none of the gaiety and excitement that accompanies such a celebration. Surely it was a happy event that the people had come to, but there was an aura of doom and gloom upon them.
‘What is wrong,’ asked the boy of one of the people.
The man threw up his hands in despair. 
‘This is supposed to be a wedding we are celebrating, but the man with the horse has not come. The bridegroom must attend the wedding on horseback and if this does not happen the best time to be married will be past and the bride and groom will not be blessed with good fortune.’ 
‘Oh,’ said the boy. ‘I have a horse. The bridegroom can ride him.’
The man noticing the horse for the first time was filled with joy.
‘Yes, I will take him straight away, and you boy, he said, looking around the gathering, ‘you can have anything you want. Just ask.’
In the midst of the guests were the musicians, and in the centre of them were the drummers. the boy spotted the drum he wanted and turned to the man who had given the horse to the bridegroom.
‘I want that drum,’ said the boy.
The man paid the musician for his drum and handed it to the boy, who took it and made his way home singing,
‘Tum de dum, I got a drum te dum, tum te dum, I got a drum.’
As he neared his house, the boy’s mother cam outside to hear what the thumping sound was.
She stood and stared in amazement as her son came toward her.
‘Where did you get that drum,?’ she asked.
The boy smiled at his mother and replied.
‘Don’t you remember that you went to market this morning mother and you brought it back for me?’
The mother was puzzled, and never did work out how a stick could turn into a drum. 
But you know and I know and now we can tell the world.

 

 

Source: 
Ramanujan, A. K. (1991) A Drum. Folktales from India: A selection of oral tales 
from 22 languages selected and edited by A K Ramanujan, Pantheon Books 
New York. 

 

The Way Photograph Roman W. Schatz
Theway