The next day, and all through the following night, Fuu walked, and on the morning of the third day, he came to a small river. There he found a young woman sitting in the mud, weeping.
“Woman, why do you cry?” he asked. “Because my baby is dead!” cried the young woman. “He died right here. I was doing laundry, and just turned for a second, and... and...” And the young women burst into fresh tears. So Fuu sat down beside her and said simply, “Both my parents are dead. I am all alone in this world.” The young woman looked up at him, wiped the tears from her eyes, and nodded her head. “You can stay with me, if you want.” That night, as he listened to the young woman’s incessant weeping, Fuu examined the knife he had stolen from the old woman and tried to feel remorse. He knew he shouldn’t have taken it, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything. |
The next day, Fuu sat beside the stream with the grieving mother from morning till evening, and while the woman was truly a miserable creature, her Misery was not his. So that evening, after the woman had left to bathe, Fuu decided it was time to go. So after eating up all the woman’s food and, for good measure, destroying her calabash, he disappeared into the night.
The following day, Fuu came to a large town where the forest meets the desert. But as he approached the gate he was stopped by a funeral procession snaking its way out of the town. Fuu joined the march and soon discovered that the dead man had been a very rich man, with lots of cattle and lots of sons. He attended the burial, gave what little charity he could, then retreated to the bush to wait till nightfall. Fuu had a plan. Once everything was still, Fuu returned to the graveyard and set about digging up the freshly buried body. The eastern sky was just beginning to blush when finally he finished and began dragging the body toward the forest. Soon after sunrise, an old hobbled woman came creeping into the cemetery to pay her respects and, seeing the grave unearthed, lost her head completely. News spread quickly through the startled town and within minutes the dead man’s sons had assembled and set out after Fuu. It was not long before the men spotted a small figure on the horizon and set their steeds a'gallop. When they came upon Fuu, however, they found the little boy standing over the body, beating it with a stick. “O God, why?” the sons cried. “Why?” “Because I am Fuu, and I seek Misery!” “But this is our father,” said the eldest son. “You have no right to do this.” “I care nothing for your rights, or mine,” replied Fuu. “I seek only Misery.” The son looked at Fuu with desperate eyes, then said, “Fine, take one of my family's bulls and leave this place. May it always remind you of this evil deed!” “I will do worse,” cried Fuu, brandishing the knife, “much worse, unless you give me five bulls!” “Fine!” cried the son. “Take five and go!” and Fuu agreed. |
That night, as he lay with his cattle, Fuu felt the first murmur of feeling. He hated what he had done, hated the sight of the fat, healthy bulls. But the feeling was weak; he needed more—more cattle, more pain, more ruined lives. So the next day, Fuu snuck into the town and stole a horse, then went searching for the dead man’s herd. He found them grazing near a stream and led them back to his camp on the edge of the forest.
When the eldest son learned of it, he called on all the town’s men to arm themselves and accompany him to the forest. They were going to squash Fuu. But as the men galloped out of the city gate with their eyes to the horizon, a little boy dressed in rags slipped in through the gate unnoticed and walked to the nearest compound. There he asked an old woman for hot coals and, after receiving them, walked to an empty lot and built a fire. When the men got to the forest edge, they found the cattle, and the stolen horse, but could not find Fuu. Then one of the men looked back to the city and cried out: “O God! He’s lit the town on fire!” And the men got back on the their horses and galloped back to battle the raging flames. |
When Fuu returned to his camp, he packed up everything and drove the cattle deep into the forest. He was not, nor were any of the cattle, ever seen again in that town, or any town known to its people.
But legend holds that the little boy grew to become a very rich and powerful man—a titan of industry—a shaper of nations—a truly great man; and that, like all such men, he died utterly alone. |