Lost and Found Slippers

About midnight, last night, I finished a thick book by Abraham Verghese called Cutting For Stone. My sister, Karen recommended it.  It is a great book.  I marked a place about half way through the book that explored a tale from Africa.  As most tales do, it had a strong message in its telling.  I was anxious to share the story.  Also, anxious to explore what it means to me in my search for happiness.  This pivotal time in my life I have to make myself stop and think.  Stop and dwell on where my motivations are coming from.  Are they external pressure?  Or are they truly my heart calling me to continue to move forward and listen to its messages.

The story is told by Ghosh, a major character in the book.  He is reminiscing to his twin sons about the time he was in prison and a cell mate was telling this tale. His cell mate said it was a tale well known to children in Africa.

'Abu Kassem, a miserly Baghdad merchant, had held on to his battered, much repaired pair of slippers even though they were objects of derision.  At last, even he couldn't stomach the sight of them.  but his every attempt to get rid of his slippers ended in disaster: when he tossed them out of his window they landed on the head of a pregnant woman who miscarried, and Abu Kassem was thrown in jail; when he dropped them in the canal, the slippers choked off the main drain and caused flooding, and off Abu Kassem went to jail…

As the cell mate finished the story, another man (described by the author as a quiet, dignified old man) said, "Abu Kassem might as well build a special room for his slippers.  Why try to lose them?  He'll never escape."  That night, the old man who questioned Abu's need to rid himself of his slippers, died in his sleep.  

The cell mates couldn't get the story out of their heads after the old man died.

'The following night, we couldn't wait to talk about Abu Kassem.  We all saw it the same way.' Gosh continues,  'The old man was right.  The slippers in the story mean that everything you see and do and touch, every seed you sow, or don't sow, becomes part of your destiny...In order to start to get rid of your slippers, you have to admit they are yours, and if you do, then they will get rid of themselves.'

'I hope one day you see this as clearly as I did in Kerchele.  the key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don't.  If you keep saying your slippers aren't yours, then you'll die searching, you'll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more.  Not only our actions, but also our omissions, become our destiny."

I hear the hum of the refrigerator, the knocking of the old radiators in my childhood home in St. Ignace.  The sun its dying to come up and is causing some of the heavy clouds in the sky to turn pink.  It's  a bitter cold winter morning.  I'm frozen in thought like the snow hanging on in the backyard.  I keep putting my head up from my laptop to look at the Christmas decorations I helped Mom put up last night as we watched a predictable Hallmark movie on T.V.  Almost every piece I put up Mom had a story about.  "That is the one I got in Amish country…that one was made by Ron and Carol Pauquin…Carol Davis made this one…Mary made this…Karen bought and painted these wooden ornaments…I made this mobile by putting these ornaments on a mobile that was already made…I bought that nativity at the Dime Store years ago, I just love it……"

Mom's Tree Topper

Handmade Wreath

The passages from Cutting For Stone are profound.  The weight of them makes me stop in my attempt to analyze them.  I have included a version of the Abu Kasem's Slippers myth I found on a blog done by  http://www.catherinesvehla.com/my_weblog/tricksters/    The spelling of Kasem is different from the myth in Cutting For Stone and the blog I found the story from. (Something I wanted to note)

Abu Kasem's Slippers

There was once a wealthy merchant named Abu Kasem. He was very well known in Baghdad for his miserliness and ability to drive a hard bargain. Equally famous were his slippers, which were old, worn, patched, and stained. The lowliest of servants would have been ashamed to wear them but Abu wore them everywhere, even in the bazaar. They were inseparable from his public character.

One day Abu Kasem made two especially good deals in a row. First, he acquired a collection of beautiful crystal bottles. Then he bought a batch of fine, sweet rose oil from a perfumer who had fallen on hard times. Everybody knew about his purchases. Abu Kasem was very excited at the prospect of large profits. Although he rarely spent any extra money on anything, he decided to treat himself and went to the public baths for a soak and a steam.

When he arrived at the baths, Abu meant a fellow merchant in the dressing room. The man lectured him on the state of his slippers and advised him to buy a new pair, lest he become a total laughingstock. Abu contemplated the awful slippers. “I have been thinking about this myself,” he said,” but I do think they have a few more miles in them.” He went in to enjoy his bath.

While the miser was relishing his rare treat, the Cadi of Baghdad also came in to take a bath. Abu finished first, and when he returned to the dressing room he couldn’t find his slippers. They had disappeared, and in their place was a lovely new pair. The new slippers were shiny and beautiful. “Well,” Abu thought to himself, “My friend must have decided to honor me with a gift. Maybe he thinks it’s good business to win the favor of a rich man like me.” Abu put on the new slippers and went home.

When the Cadi emerged later there was quite a scene. His servants looked high and low and could not find his slippers. In their place was a tattered disgusting pair that everyone knew belonged to Abu Kasem. The judge was furious and immediately sent for the culprit and had him locked up. Of course they found the missing slippers on Abu’s feet. He spent a night in jail and paid a very heavy fine—and he got his beloved slippers back.

Abu went home, sad and sorry. In a fit of temper he threw his treasured slippers out of the window and they fell into the river Tigris. A few days later, a group of fishermen thought they had caught a particularly heavy fish but found, to their dismay, that it was Abu Kasem’’s slippers in the net. The slippers ripped holes in their nets and they were very angry. They hurled the sodden slippers though an open window.

The slippers landed smack in the middle of Abu’s dining room table, where he had set up his lovely crystal bottles and was busy filling them with the sweet rose oil. Now the bottles, the oils, and his dream of big profits lay in a dripping, glittering mess of broken shards on the floor.

“Those wretched slippers!” cried Abu. He grabbed them, took a shovel, and went out into his backyard. He dug a deep hole and buried the offending pair. But his neighbor was watching (who isn’t interested in the doings of the rich?) and imagined something quite different. The neighbor thought that the rich miser must have a treasure buried there. A treasure that he did not want to report or pay taxes on. So the neighbor reported Abu to the judge.

No one could believe that a person would dig a big hole in their backyard just to bury a ratty old pair of slippers. Abu was thunderstruck when he heard the amount of his fine.

Now Abu was desperate to get rid of his old slippers. He decided the best plan was to take them far out of town where they could do him no more harm. So he drove far out into the country and dropped the slippers into a deep pond. He watched as they sunk down below the surface and went home with a sense of sweet relief.  But wouldn’t you know it, the pond fed into the town’s water supply and the slippers found their way into the pipes and stopped them up. When the workers came to fix the mess they immediately recognized the slippers. Abu went to jail again for befouling the town’s water supply, and paid another large, large fine. And he got his slippers back.

These once-dear slippers had done enough damage, by god. This time Abu resolved to burn them. Because they were wet, he laid them out on his balcony to dry. A dog on the neighboring balcony saw the slippers and jumped over to play with them. The dog tossed the slippers around and oops—one went sailing into the street below, where it hit a pregnant woman on the head and knocked her down. She had a miscarriage. The husband ran to the judge and demanded damages from the rich old miser, who was no longer so rich. Abu was forced to pay.

Abu was broke and broken. He stood before the judge and raised the slippers aloft in a gesture so solemn and earnest that the judge almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “Please your honor,” begged Abu, “do not hold me further responsible for the evils caused by these slippers.”

The Cadi felt he could not refuse and granted the plea. Abu Kasem bought a new pair of slippers.