By courtesy of Martin Plowman, Leathes Prior and Mediation-1st
The Story of The Mediator and The Seventeen Camels
(Finding Added Value)
Although Mediation is sometimes perceived in the UK as having "come from the USA", in fact, it seems likely that Mediation originated in the Far East, where Mediation has a long and honourable tradition of resolving conflict. The fable of the Mediator and the Seventeen Camels, however, comes to us from the Middle East, and like all the best fables, it contains a grain of truth...
Once upon a time, a Mediator was riding through the endless wastes of the desert on his camel. The Mediator had been riding for a long time and as he scanned the sea of sand that surrounded him, he was pleased to see the palm trees of an oasis on the horizon. He turned his trusty camel towards it and made for the oasis.
But, as the Mediator neared the oasis he realised that all was not well. Raised voices drifted across the sand towards him, and he caught the unmistakable glint of sunlight on drawn swords. By the time the Mediator arrived in the oasis it was apparent that a full blown conflict was about to break out. Anxious to help (or, perhaps, seeing the opportunity for an unexpected bit of business!) the Mediator enquired as to what the problem might be.
The sad story was soon told. An old, and important member of the tribe had died. He had provided for the distribution of his worldly goods in his will, and, as was common in those days, in that part of the world, he had divided his goods between his three sons, giving the most to the oldest, and least to the youngest. The eldest son was to receive one half of the estate, the middle son was to receive one third of the estate and the youngest son was to receive one ninth of the estate. That in itself would not have triggered a conflict, for the principle was not unusual, but the difficulty lay in the fact that the man's estate consisted entirely of seventeen camels.
In a part of the world where wealth was measured in camels this was a significant number. The difficulty, however, was that seventeen is a number that can be divided by neither two, to give the eldest son a half, nor by a third nor a ninth to give the next two sons their proper shares. Hence the impending conflict. The eldest son, not unnaturally, felt that he should have a bit more, but his younger brothers, again understandably, felt that as their older brother was already receiving the most it was he who should give something up. The only compromise that had been suggested was to kill all seventeen camels, to weigh the meat, and then to divide the estate that way. Unfortunately, whilst it was superficially attractive this solution was, in the searing heat of the desert, and before the age of the deep freeze, simply not practicable. So swords had been drawn, and the members of the family were about to fall upon each other, when the unexpected chance that a Mediator should suddenly appear out of the desert gave them a glimmer of hope, and they enquired of the Mediator whether he could help.
A fee was negotiated, and paid by each of the brothers out of their own assets, and the Mediator then said "I shall give you my camel". The Mediator's suggestion provoked amazement, with some asking how that was supposed to help, and others questioning the Mediator's sanity. The Mediator went on to explain:
"Now you have eighteen camels. Eighteen is divisible by two, so the eldest son can have nine camels. Eighteen is divisible by three, so the middle son can have six camels and eighteen is divisible by nine, so the youngest son can have two camels".
Satisfied, and overjoyed to have avoided a conflict, each of the sons took his camels and returned to his tent. Moreover, since nine plus six plus two comes to seventeen, the Mediator's camel was left over and the Mediator was able to climb back onto his trusty camel and to resume his voyage across the desert.
And the moral of the story is? Probably to check your maths when drafting a will, but also, and more importantly, that the input of an independent Mediator can transform even the most difficult of disputes.
The Story of The Poor Fisherman, The Genie and The Mediator
(Looking for the Win-win situation)
It seems likely that Mediation originated in the Far East from where the fable of the Poor Fisherman and the Mediator comes to us.
Once upon a time there lived a poor fisherman. His house was but a mud hut, his fishing nets but rags and scraps knotted together and his fishing boat little more than a few planks of drift wood held together with fraying rope. He lived with his wife and his blind old mother but what grieved him most was not their poverty, but the fact that he and his wife could not have children. Quite apart from the joy he and his wife would have had from a child, and that his mother would have had from a grandchild, in those days, and in that part of the world a poor man would rely on having children to care for him and his wife in their old age, just as he looked after his blind old mother. Almost as bad was the fact that his wife and his blind old mother always argued. The fisherman's life was utterly, utterly wretched.
At the end of one particularly long, particularly grey day the fisherman hauled in his nets to find that there was not a single fish caught in them. In truth, the nets were now so frayed, and the holes in them so large, that a whole shoal of fish could have swum through them. "We are quite ruined" cried the Poor Fisherman when he noticed that caught up in what was left of the net was a small bottle. It was old and shabby and shells and barnacles had stuck to the outside, but the fisherman though to himself that perhaps if he could clean it he would be able to sell it and keep starvation at bay for another day. He pulled out the stopper, meaning to rinse it, but as soon as the stopper was off there was a flash of light and then a pillar of smoke rose out of the bottle. As the fisherman cowered on the ground the pillar of smoke formed into the shape of a genie who cried "Free! I'm free at last". The genie explained that he had been imprisoned in the bottle by an evil magician and that had lain on the bottom of the sea bed for 10,000 years. He was so pleased to be free that he offered to grant the fisherman one wish, but one wish only. The fisherman thought for a moment and then asked if he could go home and ask his wife and his mother what the wish should be. The genie agreed and told the fisherman to come back to the same spot at the same time next week when the fisherman would be granted one, but only one, wish.
Excited the fisherman rushed home and told his mother who was at home what had happened. She said to him "My son, respect for your parents and elders is the duty of all children. I have been blind for decades. You must ask the genie to restore my sight".
Shortly after that the Poor Fisherman's wife returned. He told her what had happened and what his mother had said. "How typically selfish of your mother!" cried his wife. "Take no notice of her, my husband. She is old and will soon be dead. Ask the genie for a son, that we may have the joy of a child, and someone to care for us in our old age".
The fisherman was at a loss to know what to do. He could not think of a way to reconcile the wishes of his mother and his wife. As the week went on his wife and his mother both pestered him to agree to ask the genie for what they wanted and argued incessantly amongst themselves. On occasions they virtually came to blows. Things were so bad that the fisherman wished that he had never met the genie and that the genie had never offered to grant him one wish. He was utterly, utterly wretched.
Then, as the Poor Fisherman walked sadly through the streets of his village, he passed a house in which a Mediator lived. The Mediator was held to be wise in finding solutions to disputes. In desperation, for it was now the day before he had to return to the genie, the fisherman took his wife and mother to see the Mediator. With his last fish he paid the Mediator's fee and then told the Mediator his story. No sooner had he finished than his wife and mother began to argue about whose wishes should be put to the genie. The Mediator listened carefully and then replied:
"O fisherman. You must return to the genie, and you must honour the wishes of your wife and your mother".
"But how does this help?" cried the Poor Fisherman, his blind old mother and his wife together. "Did you not hear us? The genie will grant only one wish!"
"And only one request should you make of him" replied the Mediator. And he lent forward and whispered in the Poor Fisherman's ear.
The next day the Poor Fisherman went to the spot where he had found the genie at the appointed time and sure enough, the genie appeared, and offered to grant him one wish.
"O genie," said the Poor Fisherman, " I ask nothing for myself, and my wife asks nothing for herself. But respect for our parents and elders is the duty of all children and so I ask on behalf of my aged mother that you grant her the one wish she has before she dies".
"Very noble," said the genie, "I will grant you aged mother's wish. What does she wish for?"
"My aged mother's one wish, O genie, is that before she dies she might see her grandson".
The Two Women Who Fought Over an Orange
(Finding the hidden agenda)
It seems, if this folktale is anything to go by, that Mediation did not play a prominent role in dispute resolution in Tsarist Russia.
Once upon a time there were two women. They lived in the same village and it so happened that at the same moment on the same day they chanced to see an orange that had fallen off the back of a cart and was rolling along the street. Oranges were not often seen in Russia in those days, and were considered a great delicacy, and so the two women both ran for the orange, bent over and reached out for it at the same moment. Together their hands clasped the orange and neither would let go, or give up the orange to the other.
They argued for hours over who should have the orange; one claimed to have seen it first, the other relied on the fact that the orange had fallen on the side of the road where she lived, not on the side of the road where her rival lived. Neither would give way, and there was no Mediator in the village so they had no option but to take the case to the Boyar of the village to decide. He heard their evidence carefully and then ruled that the orange should be cut in half and each woman be given one half of the orange. Satisfied that neither lost, the women went home.
When she reached her home, the first woman peeled the orange, ate it and threw away the peel. Across the road, her rival peeled the orange, threw away the flesh and used the peel to make marmalade.
