Till Next Time Then, Goodbye By Douglas Goldstein Deceit. The Oxford-Uzbek dictionary defines deceit as the act of hiding true intentions from those males who would most need to know in order to escape damage to themselves and their possessions. There once ruled a king on the desert region bordering on Afghanistan who hated deceit and denounced it rigorously at every turn. He despised deceit and flew into a rage whenever he spotted it anywhere, even among the lowliest of peasants who he found frequently, despite their pleasant demeanors, attempted to get something for nothing, or even obtain an item for less work than that item was worth. When one of his retainers gave up retaining for him and retained for himself, the King denounced him in public and had him whipped to within an inch of his life. You must remember that this was circa 1740’s and so more understandable than if it had been the practice to be so violent today! “You swine,” he would say, and grab the whip from another retainer near to hand and lash the very hide off of the offending retainer’s back and buttocks. If a concubine slept with a visiting official without first having applied for that privilege and being granted same through official channels, the king so personally belaboured her and with such severity and so long duration that she never again attempted to make similar forays to the very last days of her hideless life. And so on, not only domestics and officers kept their behaviors above board in this king’s domains but brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children, and even uncles preferred to discard creeping thoughts of selfish gain and secret takings. Now, one November day when the hills already showed their snowy tops to a cooling world, a young shepherd boy found, to his surprise, that the arm of the law extends even into the remotest corners of the kingdom. Bored with sheep, hating the endless routine of keeping the beasts in a pack, momentarily diverting himself by throwing rocks at objects, he aimed a number of his stones at a target generally out of reach of even his practiced arm. He had, on one of these attempts, a particularly fine throwing rock in hand, smooth, the exact right size to move through the resisting air, and this he hurled with surprising success at a cave entrance up in the cliffs above the valley. It arched, he held his breath, and then, sure enough, it entered the opening and crashed there into some yielding substance that tinkled and crunched. He heard it all the way down where he stood. Taking a look at his sheep to make sure they were all tired, too, and they were, laying down for a sheep’s nap in the early afternoon sun, he left them there. He climbed with interest higher than he had ever dared go before. Up, up, up he went till he came despite grave danger to a sheer height of sandstone, which would have, and had for all, been too daunting in normal circumstances to attempt. He attempted. He won over it. He climbed then to the lip of the cave and with trepidation looked in. There, behold his surprise, he saw before him row upon row of huge masonry jars, all filled to the brim with gleaming gold and glittering jewels. A horde of such splendor and magnitude lay before him that he knew he never would in all his years manage to cart it out and if he took two trips daily seven days a week up to it with a backpack for the rest of his life. Gold coins there were. Gold necklaces and gold ornaments with chains and of curious design lay limply there. Silver broaches and rings tumbled from the clay lips of the jars. Diamonds, emeralds and sapphires, as large as stones from a brook, winked and smiled. A thousand rubies lay embedded in the masses of gold and glimmered in the weak light, adding to the very illumination the sun threw into the small opening. He leapt in, took a small handful, admired it, kissed it, rubbed it under his armpit, and then pocketed it. He would tell no one, he decided, not even his father who beat him too frequently. He would hide it all, bury it all, keep it all, and use it all himself. Nothing for sisters, brothers, mother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins and in-laws. And that is what he did. I will return to this story of the brother of Omar in another episode of The Adventures of the Wealthy Shepherd Boy later in this series of broadcasts. Till then, this is Oscar Sheriff saying, “So long, and God Bless! Till next time, goodbye. And simply believe. God has good things in store for you.”

Till Next Time Then, Goodbye

       By Douglas Goldstein

Deceit. 

The Oxford-Uzbek dictionary defines deceit as the act of hiding true intentions from those males who would most need to know in order to escape damage to themselves and their possessions. Speaking of which, there once ruled a king in a desert region bordering on Afghanistan who hated deceit and denounced it rigorously at every turn. He despised lying and flew into a rage whenever he spotted it anywhere, even among the lowliest of peasants who he found frequently, despite their pleasant demeanors, attempted to get something for nothing, or even obtain an item for less work than that item was worth. When one of his retainers gave up retaining for him and retained for himself, the King denounced him in public and had him whipped to within an inch of his life. You must remember that this was circa 1740’s and so more understandable than if it had been the practice to be so violent today! “You swine,” he would say, and grab the whip from another retainer near to hand and lash the very hide off of the offending retainer’s back and buttocks. If a concubine slept with a visiting official without first having applied for that privilege and being granted same through official channels, the king so personally belaboured her and with such severity and so long duration that she never again attempted to make similar forays to the very last days of her hideless life. And so on, not only domestics and officers kept their behaviors above board in this king’s domains but brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children, and even uncles preferred to discard creeping thoughts of selfish gain and secret takings.

Now, one November day when the hills already showed their snowy tops to a cooling world, a young shepherd boy found, to his surprise, that the arm of the law extends even into the remotest corners of the kingdom. Bored with sheep, hating the endless routine of keeping the beasts in a pack, momentarily diverting himself by throwing rocks at objects, he aimed a number of these at a target generally out of reach of even his practiced arm. He had, on one of these attempts, an especially fine throwing rock in hand, smooth, the exact right size to move through the resisting air, and this he hurled with surprising success at a cave entrance up in the cliffs above the valley. It arched, he held his breath, and then, sure enough, it entered the opening and crashed there into some yielding substance that tinkled and crunched. He heard it all the way down where he stood.

Taking a look at his sheep to make sure they were all tired, too, and they were, laying down for a sheep’s nap in the early afternoon sun, he left them there. He climbed with interest higher than he had ever dared go before. Up, up, up he went till he came despite grave danger to a sheer height of sandstone, which would have, and had for all, been too daunting in normal circumstances to attempt. He attempted. He won over it. He climbed then to the lip of the cave and with trepidation looked in. There, behold his surprise, he saw before him row upon row of enormous masonry jars, all filled to the brim with gleaming gold and glittering jewels. A horde of such splendor and magnitude lay before him that he knew he never would in all his years manage to cart it out and if he took two trips daily seven days a week up to it with a backpack for the rest of his life. Gold coins there were. Gold necklaces and gold ornaments with chains and of curious design lay limply there. Silver broaches and rings tumbled from the clay lips of the jars. Diamonds, emeralds and sapphires, as large as cobbles from a brook, winked and smiled. A thousand rubies sparkled, embedded in the masses of gold, and glimmered in the weak light, adding to the very illumination the sun threw into the small opening.

He leapt in, took a small handful, admired it, kissed it, rubbed it under his armpit, and then pocketed it. He would tell no one, he decided, not even his father who beat him too frequently. He would hide it all, bury it all, keep it all, and use it all himself. Nothing for sisters, brothers, mother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins and in-laws. And that is what he did. Each week for many, many years he climbed to his treasure with a rucksack and hauled way as much as he possibly could without falling downcliff as he left. I will return to this story of the brother of Omar in another episode of The Adventures of the Wealthy Shepherd Boy later in this series of broadcasts. Till then, this is Oscar Sheriff saying, “So long, and God Bless! Till next time, goodbye. And simply believe. God has good things in store for you.”