The literature realm is riddled with countless tales of
kings who forwent their titles and plush lifestyles all for a day as ordinary
and, for some, not so ordinary commoners. Some had the hopes of finding out
what their subjects thought of them, others just to have a feel of peasant
life; and a couple had austerely dreadful motives. From tales of King Richard disguising himself
as an abbot as an attempt at wheedling Robin Hood out of his outlaw lifestyle, to Lucentio, Petruchio and Hortensio’s theatrics
in “The taming of the Shrew”, I have
encountered regal masquerades ever since I could hold a book upright. While
King Ahab and King Jehoshaphat’s story is entrancing, the one tale that certainly
takes the biscuit for me has to be the Irish legend of the king who wore beggar
clothes to find who would succeed him. The king (whose name is not given but we’ll
christen him King Jonathan after Manchester United’s classy Irish defender
Jonathan ‘Jonny’ Evans - and also because it’s my name), legend has it, had no
son and so he sent his messengers all over the country to invite all the young
men into his court for interviews to get who’d take up his mantle after he
passed on. Thousands of young, striking men stepped their swag up notches
higher; donned elegant coats made from the finest wool and incessantly worked
on their cool Irish accents before setting off for the rendezvous.
One lad, Edmund, who was easy on the eyes but tremendously
poor decided to join the soiree. He walked around his hometown scrounging cash
from anyone who would care to stand and listen and when he got just enough, he bought
himself new garments and headed for the castle. The guy’s disposition was exquisite
and in his hometown loads of people liked him for the same. Along the road that
led to the king’s castle, a mendicant sat asking for help as the band of
gentlemen streamed by. The suckers, with their heads high, haughtily went by
the smelly beggar, others snickering, several casting
I-see-you-but-I-got-a-king-to-see-looks as they tagged along. When Edmund came to where the beggar was, he
was deeply moved so he offered him his outfit and wore the beggar’s tatters. He
still had some pocket change from earlier on so he grabbed some haggis neeps
and tatties from a stall close by and handed them to the beggar who eagerly devoured.
After amiable goodbyes were swapped between the two, Edmund got back to his expedition,
though now he felt slightly awkward considering he had just given away his uncluttered
clothes.
I’m reasonably certain you already know how the account
proceeds and concludes but I’ll just complete it because blogging ethics call
for me to do so. So Edmund got to the king’s crib. He reeked, looked definitely
out of place and who does he see sitted on the jewel-encrusted seat? No, it
wasn’t Kingwa Kamencu. It was the tramp by the roadside! So Edmund got to be
king for many many many years and the douche bags who laughed at the beggar got
to serve him as his subjects.
A rather fascinating variation of Shakespeare’s induction in
“The taming of the Shrew” is a
classic from “The book of a thousand and
one nights.” Here, an Arabian king hoodwinks a habitual drunkard into
believing he was the king. Caliph Harun al-Rashid was not the darling of the
Arab populace but they dared not raise their voices against him. One day as he
was taking his daily evening saunter through the streets of Baghdad, he passed
by a drinking den and spotted Hassan, a poor drunk, sprawled next to the entrance
heavily inebriated. Harun ordered his sentries to pick up Hassan and array him
in his own imperial robes. The guards were also to lug Hassan and place him on
the king’s divan bed. The order was simple, make Hassan believe he was king.
Hassan awoke from his stupor to a somewhat shocking reality.
The king’s servants were constantly at his beck and call and Harun, decked out
in servant clothing, joined them. Hassan could not believe it and asked for
wine from the king’s cellars to calm his nerves. He drank a little too much and
ended up blacked out on the palace floors. Harun, amused at how the day had
turned out, ordered the guards to change Hassan back into hobo clothes and had
him thrown out. Well, Hassan woke up and found himself on the streets, sending
him into a psychotic rampage. Harun had him apprehended over public disturbance
and while in the dungeons a guard, following Harun’s orders, sneaked him a
bottle of wine. Hassan passed out again and on waking up, Harun had yet again
played his trick. This time, Hassan sat up on his bed and, with the first words
out of his mouth, he waivered a law that had oppressed the general public for a
long time. The guards were pleased and Harun, watching from behind a secret
door got a little uneasy. Out of the blue, a psychotic attack came over Hassan causing
him to reach for a knife that lay on the table next to the bed and hurled it towards
the wall. As fate had it, the knife ricocheted off a vase and headed straight for the secret door. It went right through Harun’s heart and the door flew open
as he fell into the room with a piercing cry. Hassan, already in the king’s
robes was declared king much to the jubilation of the public.
 | |
| King Julien |
So Harun’s ending was not so very breathtaking – ha-ha, I
finally nailed a pun :)
I found myself in a mucky position in the middle of the week. I’m no king, nor
do I live a fancy lifestyle, but garden work and doings along that line have
never appealed to me at all. It’s just not my cuppa! So a friend to my mum
called me for a job. The details were quite hazy so I walked into the job with
absolutely no idea what it entailed. See, I am on school recess and this time round
I had promised myself not to get a job as the last time I tried my hands on one,
it was no fun at all. Anyway, I thought a little money would come in handy I
don’t know when, so I decided to take up the job. It was to last for three
weeks.
I walked into the premises head high, not fazed by anything-
or anyone. It was quite a shocker when I was told to change into some dirty
rags and given my tools of trade; a garden hoe and secateurs. Xavier, the guy
with an eight to five office job dream was being asked to dig around drainage
channels and trim hedges! Let me tell you on Wednesday I worked myself dead! My ‘co-workers’ were years older than me and with
their experience, they handled the tasks effortlessly. Inside half an hour, I
was sweating like a fat man in a cake shop (I won’t say pig, because I think
it’s a huge misnomer! I’ve been around pigs and not once have I seen them perspire.)
I was barely finished with the tilling and trimming when the supervisor
directed us to ferry hundreds of hefty metal beds from one end of the grounds
to the other. I was heartily against this job but my folks had convinced me to
‘just take it’ and ‘learn how to work.’ On knowing what the job entailed as I
was starting off, I had decided to try it out for a day or two then quit, but
midway through the day, I was pretty sure I was never going back. I was
absolutely certain I was done with the place, not showing up the following day,
but like Roy Keane in the ’99 semi-final against Juventus, I gave my all! I got
home that evening dead beat and I could not feel my hands either.
So mine wasn’t such a kingly anecdote, but a king exists,
who once disguised himself and won over many souls in the process - Jesus.
Christ left heaven, the most lavish of places, and came to the earth just to
die for people who constantly reject him. He left a place where he is worshiped
throughout. A city of transparent gold; where the party really doesn’t stop. And
all that just for what? For you and me. Jesus offered to give up all comfort so
that you and I can have life in profusion. The most remarkable thing is that he
opted to come not in a fleet of fast, black cars or in splendor and glory, but
in the lowliest of manners. There was a reason for that. Had Jesus come hovering
in the heavens, everyone would have believed in him. If food was all it took for five
thousand to believe he was the messiah, I can only envisage what riding through
the sky on a white horse would have resulted in. Just like King Jonathan, Christ veiled
himself, but while Jonathan went for the truly nice Edmund, Christ came for all
of us. He died on a cross just to show how much he loves and wants us for
himself! It ranks as the greatest act ever done by a king. If you haven’t established
this king as your king, I’d encourage you to give him a try. It is so easy. He
just expects us to believe that he died for our sins and that he actually is
the king. Just that, and when he comes back for those who showed back some love, he
promises to take us with him to the big party.
***John 15:13***
Greater love has no
man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
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