Yamanba of the Mountain

Question

Cathy Spagnoli

Mukashi, mukashi … Long ago in a quiet Japanese village, people feared the yamanba who lived at the top of a nearby mountain.

When rains fell too hard on their crops, people said, "It's her fault, that yamanba. She likes to make trouble."

When snows piled up high on their houses, people said, "It's her fault, that yamanba. She loves to make trouble."

When great winds whipped through the village, people said, "It's her fault, that yamanba. She always makes trouble."

However, no one had ever seen the Yamanba. No one had ever heard the Yamanba. They didn’t even know if she was real. They only passed on the terrible tales that their parents had heard from their parents.

Now, one fall day, a fierce wind suddenly blew, byuu, byuu. Rain poured down, za, za, za, za.

Hailstones fell too, ba-ra, ba-ra. Then a terrifying voice roared, "I am the yamanba's new baby. We both want rice balls right now. If you don't bring mochi to us soon, w

Answer 1

e will be very angry!"

The villagers were stunned. They had never heard such a voice before. They looked at each other with wide eyes and trembled with fear. "What do we do?" one villager cried. "We must appease the yamanba!" another shouted.

They quickly gathered all the rice balls and mochi they could find. Fishers, farmers, and merchants all helped, sending forth their offerings. With trembling hands, they formed a large basket filled to the brim with food and sent it up the mountain.

As the basket climbed, the winds howled, and rain continued to pour down. "Do you think it will be enough?" someone asked, worry etched on their face. "If we fail, we'll surely suffer the yamanba's wrath," replied another.

When the basket reached the yamanba’s home at the mountain's peak, the winds calmed for a moment, and a strange silence enveloped the area. The villagers peered up the mountain, hoping for a sign.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over the basket, and the villagers gasped as they saw the yamanba. She was tall, draped in tattered robes and with wild hair that seemed to dance in the wind. But rather than a terrifying figure they had imagined, her eyes sparkled with kindness.

"Thank you for your offerings!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and inviting. "I only wanted to know if you would share your food with me and my baby. I have watched over you for many years, ensuring you have enough rain for your crops and protecting you from storms. Yet, you have only spoken of me in fear."

The villagers were taken aback, their fear melting away like the morning mist. They realized that the yamanba was not a figure of horror, but a guardian who had long been misunderstood.

From that day forward, instead of blaming her for their troubles, they honored the yamanba, bringing her rice balls as a way to show gratitude. They would gather by the mountain, sharing stories and laughter, celebrating the bond they formed with the once-feared spirit who watched over them.

And so, the village thrived, with the yamanba as their protector and friend, and the tales transformed from fearsome legends to stories of friendship and understanding.