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I heard a story being told by a traveling man. He told of a story that was passed down from father to son for generations This story journeyed from country to country and was translated from 4 different languages. As the story goes… there was an old lady who would go around the village asking for the scraps from the meat and vegetables that was left over from the family’s daily meals. Everyone was delighted to give her their scraps for it would mean them not having to walk the 3 miles to discard them into the quarry at the edge of town. For years this went on. Some of the traveling men often offered to give her a lift to the quarry being that she was well up in age and they were concern about her being attacked by wild beast or animals. However, she would decline, each-and-every time. They would think to themselves… how could she be this proud as to not accept a ride from us, but she is willing to accept our garbage? Even though they had their thoughts about the old woman no one bothered to look deeper into this mystery because she was of no relation to them, and no one had the time. As well as no one notice that throughout all these years the village homeless beggars were practically gone from sight. Suddenly a buzz began to be heard about the situation. Someone started to see the change in the village and started rumors about the old woman and the beggars. I see them going into her hut nearly all day everyday one person would sneer. What are they all doing in there? How long are we going to allow these strange things to keep going on in our village, they continue to gripe. We should be glad they could be seen but not heard begging for food, another chimed. Haven’t you noticed that they were no longer sick and frail? I am happy I no longer must step over their stinky bodies crowding the pathways. Others agreed to that last statement with sounds of relief. It is just fine for you to say but how can this be? If no one is feeding them or giving them money; how are they eating and healing themselves? The old woman only has a small root garden and a few aged chickens. How is she making this possible without some kind of goings on one said suspiciously. I don’t like it and I will not be giving her anymore of my garbage she loudly squawked. It was true, the beggars did not seem dirty and unkempt as they once did. It was obvious they took pride in their appearance and began to apply for day jobs and work as handymen around the village. Before long other people started to keep and eye out about the old lady and the beggars and they too began to feel strange about it. People began to stop giving the old lady their bones and vegetable scraps. Others would assure that the bones were picked well and the scraps scarce to nothing before giving it to her, while others began to forget about leaving them out altogether and would throw them away before she arrived to collect them. The beggars seeing the change in the village became worried about the old lady. By this time most of the beggars had regular jobs. A few traveled to other villages for work, others moved on and were never seen again. Some say, they returned to their homes more healthy, wise, and able to face their families. When it became evident that the old lady was now alone to fend for the beggars without the aide of the scraps, those that had jobs did what they could to maintain. Those that moved away sent what little money they could to save face, but it was clear that the bones and vegetable scraps were truly missed. This took a toll on the old lady, and she fell gravely ill. The beggars still came by to wash and mend their clothes, cooked the bone broth and vegetable scrap stew, added the roots grown from the garden, and brewed the herbal tea which was the old lady’s specialty. They ate boiled eggs laid by the few chickens, each sharing an egg every other day. It was never enough to have an egg each day for everyone. Every so often a bag of meaty bones and hearty scraps would be left at the back of the hut. They never knew who’d left them, but they were grateful. They stayed with the old lady until she passed away from a broken heart and despair she felt from the rejection of the village. As a last act of humanity, the old lady left her humble hut to the beggars of the village. Well, as it turns out her hut still stands due to it being on heritage land and beggars still frequent the hut. There is always someone there to welcome them despite the dislike to the village. It’s still a bag of meaty bones and hearty scraps being left at the back of the hut by an unknown family who still lives in the village.
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