The Peanut
Xu Dishan
Behind our house there was a patch of land. “It would be a pity to let it go wild,” said Mother. “I suggest that since you are all so fond of peanuts you should grow some there.”
We children and the little maidservants were all delighted. Some of us bought seeds, some dug up the plot and others watered it. In just a few months we had a harvest.
Mother said, “Let’s have a harvest festival tonight and invite your father to taste our fresh peanuts.”
We all agreed. Mother made a variety of dishes using our peanuts and instructed that the festival should be held in the thatched pavilion in the garden.
The weather was not very good that evening, but even Father put in an appearance, which was a rare event.
“Do you all like peanuts?” asked Father.
“Yes!” we all clamoured to reply.
“Who can tell me what’s good about peanuts?”
“They taste good,” said older sister.
“They can be made into oil,” said older brother.
“Everybody can afford to buy them, whoever they might be, and everyone likes them. That’s what’s good about peanuts,” said I.
Father said, “In fact the peanut has many uses, but the most valuable thing about this little nut is this: it’s not like the apple, peach or pomegranate, flaunting their bright, beautiful fruits on their branches for all to see and admire. The peanut lies buried in the soil, waiting until it is ripe before letting people dig it up. If ever you come across a shy peanut plant you cannot immediately tell whether or not it has any nuts. You have to find them to be certain.”
We all agreed with this and Mother nodded her head too. Father continued, “So you should all try to be like the peanut, because it is neither grand nor beautiful, but useful.”
“Does that mean that people should try to be useful rather than famous or great?” I asked.
“That is what I hope of you all,” Father replied.
We talked late into the night before dispersing. Although we ate all the peanuts that evening, Father’s words still remain embedded in my mind.
(杨宪益、戴乃迭 译)
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