The Land

En berättelse vidarspridd från en av deltagarna i ALBAs fredsprojekt - vidarsprider:


My Land



The two men approached each other from opposite sides of the field. They had purposeful strides.

One was carrying a spade, the other a hoe. They met in the middle, anger flashing in both of their eyes.

“This is my land” said the first, “you can move aside”.

“Oh no”, said the other “this is my land, handed to me by my father, it is you that should move aside”.

“Given to you by your father!”, said the first, “he was a thief if ever there was one, he stole the land from my grandfather”.

“Only because he duped my great grandfather, into giving it away, when his eyes and mind were failing”. Said the other.

“Never mind that”, said the first, “this land belonged to my ancestors, it is said in the stories”,

“Your stories perhaps”, said the other……………………………………………



And the two argued into the night, each not budging a foot from the piece of ground he stood on.

In the morning they were still arguing and their voices could be heard ringing out across the landscape for the whole of the next day.

And the next….. and the next…. and the next.

Neither man dared move, in case the other took his place. They became thin, their clothes became ragged, their voices became hoarse. Soon it was only croaks and whispers that could be heard across the fields. The hoe and the spade lying desolutely on the ground.



There was a girl who walked past that field every day. She watched the men, until it looked as if they could barely stand up.

One day she went across to them and very quietly said, “perhaps you should seek some help in this matter, the wise Hodja lives in the wood across the path. I could show you the way”.

The two men followed the girl’s direction and they walked down a small path through the cool and the shade of the forest until they reached a clearing. The Hodja sat outside his hut, twisting rope with his fingers.

He looked up. The two men stumbeld forward, both shouting, “Its my land”.

The Hodja only nodded, “take me there”, he said.



When they reached the field, the Hodja pointed to a bare patch in the middle, where the land was dry dusty and compressed from their stamping feet.

“Here”? He said and they both nodded.



The Hodja walked out across the field and suddenly flung himself down on his on his hands and knees and put his ear to the ground.

He was there a long time until one of the men touched him and asked what he was doing.

“Listening to what the earth has to say”, said the Hodja and returned his ear to the ground.



Eventually he stood up. “Well, what does the earth have to say”? both men stammered.



“The earth says, you belong to her”, the Hodja replied.