Shao, Fish, and Men

An adaptation of a Hmong folklore about fish and men (traditional version)

Thousands of years ago, long before the great divide, all the creatures on earth spoke the same language. However, they could not communicate with the divine beings in the heavens. There was only one living creature appointed on earth who had the power to speak to all things on earth and in heaven, and their name was Shao (Saub in Hmong). Shao literally means Shao; one who knows all, sees all, and speaks to all.

One day, many of the fish in the sea gathered and approached Shao with a request.

“Shao, we are in dire need of your help," one fish pleaded. "Our kind are dying. Men are hunting us and eating us to extinction.”

“Please help us,” a second fish begged.

“As Shao, I will help you," answered Shao.

Soon, Shao appeared to the humans and told them, “The fish are dying. You and your kind are hunting and eating them to extinction. Mankind must stop or there will no longer be fish in the sea.”

“But the fish also eat their own kind, and we must eat as well,” replied a man.

“Yes!” shouted the humans, rallying behind one another. They were all yelling their concerns to Shao, speaking over each other— worried for their livelihoods and asking how their children will be fed.

One man suggested, “Shao, you must reason with them.”

Shao responded with, “I shall speak to the fish again.”

When Shao returned to the fish in the sea, he told them, “The humans need to eat fish to survive.”

Furious, a fish claimed, “The humans are greedy, they not only over hunt us for food, but for sport as well. They sell us by the masses for their own gain. And while their homes and children grow fat, we are dying. Won’t you help us?”

The words of this fish sunk deep in Shao’s heart.

Once again, Shao returned to the humans and asked, “Is this true? Are you hunting the fish for more than just food?”

None can lie to Shao nor disobey Shao’s commands, so the humans confessed, “Yes, it’s true.”

Shocked, Shao voiced the new command, “I have decided that—”

A man interrupted Shao, “Wait!”

The humans looked to one another for answers. Then, one of them came up with a clever idea, “Before you make up your mind, let us pay you a visit you with a gift.”

“Please,” added another man.

The crowd grew overwhelmingly loud with desperate pleas and urgent demands for more time. The louder they screamed, the less they were understood, their words swallowed by a storm of ear-splitting cries and frantic noise.

“Very well,” said Shao, deciding to grant them more time.

Days later, the humans visited Shao with an attractive looking gift. A meal prepared to perfection— resting on a bed of steamed rice, cradled inside a woven basket. As Shao held the dish, the rising steam filled the air with a savory smell so captivating that Shao could barely hold a humble posture. Shao finished the entire meal, leaving not a single grain behind.

The humans felt confident as one of them asked Shao, “Did you like the food?”

“Yes. I enjoyed it,” said Shao.

“It was a fish that you ate, and so thoroughly enjoyed,” another man boasted. “We would like to continue to eat fish, if the heavens would allow it.”

Shao felt tricked. In seeking wisdom, Shao took a moment and decided, “Then, I shall ask the heavens.”

Upon returning to earth, Shao had the fish and men gathered in one place to make a grand announcement, stating, “The divine beings have proclaimed that fish were created to eat one another and to also be eaten by men. To keep the balance, the humans must only hunt fish to eat for their survival and nothing else. That is the command.”

The fish and humans gazed at one another with anger and resentment. Both sides felt as though the new command seemed quite unfair to them. Fish and men started to argue, blaming the other for their problems.

There was nothing else Shao could do, but deliver the message once again, his voice rising with a power that silenced every creature around him, proclaiming, “Fish and men alike must eat to survive. When all the fish disappear from the sea, all the humans will soon disappear from the earth.”

A heavy silence follow. Shao’s words left a grounding message to both fish and men. Quietly, they accepted his command. Every creature wished to exist, and in that shared desire, fish and men alike vowed to honor and uphold the balance.

Art by Bao Xiong

Shao, Fish, and Men

Bao Xiong's retelling of a Hmong folklore about fish and men

A very long time ago, like thousands of years ago, all the creatures on earth spoke the same language.

Shao—Saub in Hmong—was the only being on earth who could speak to all things, both on earth and in the heavens. They saw everything. Heard everything. Knew everything.

One day, a group of fish came to Shao.

“Please, Shao,” one of them said. “We need help. Humans are hunting us to extinction.”

Another fish added, “They eat us, sell us, even catch us for fun. We won’t survive much longer.”

“I hear you,” Shao said. “I’ll talk to them.”

Shao went to the humans and told them plainly, “The fish are dying. You’re overhunting them. If this keeps up, they’ll all be gone.”

A man replied, “But fish eat each other too. And we have to eat to survive.”

“Exactly!” others shouted. “What are we supposed to feed our families?”

Someone suggested, “Shao, please… reason with the fish.”

“I will,” Shao said, and returned to the sea.

“The humans need fish to live,” Shao explained to the fish.

A large fish swam forward, furious. “They’re not just eating to survive. They’re greedy. They take more than they need, for money, for sport, while our kind vanishes. Their kids grow strong while ours disappear. Don’t we matter?”

As Shao listened, the fish’s words hit hard.

Shao went back to the humans and asked, “Is this true? Are you hunting them for more than food?”

The humans couldn’t lie. “Yes,” one said. “We are.”

Shao began to speak, “Then I’ve decided—”

“Wait!” a man interrupted. The humans whispered among themselves. Then one spoke up, “Let us bring you a gift first. Just give us a little more time.”

Shao paused. “Fine. I'll grant you more time.”

A few days later, the humans returned. They offered a warm meal in a woven basket. It smelled incredible.

Shao ate it. Every bite. Not a single grain left behind.

“Did you like it?” one man asked, smiling.

“Yes. It was… delicious,” Shao admitted. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“Well,” another man said, “the dish you so thoroughly enjoyed was fish. The very thing we’re fighting for. We just want to keep eating it—with heaven’s blessing.”

Shao stared at them, feeling ticked. Still, seeking fairness, Shao said, “I’ll ask the heavens.”

When Shao returned, they called a meeting between humans and fish.

“The divine beings have spoken,” Shao said. “Fish were made to eat each other—and to be eaten by humans. But only for survival. No sport. No greed. Only what’s necessary. That’s the law.”

Silence.

Fish and humans stared each other down, anger simmering on both sides. Then they began to argue—blaming, accusing, yelling.

Shao raised their voice, louder than the sea, louder than the sky, “If the fish vanish from the oceans, the humans will vanish from the earth. Remember that.”

All creatures became still.

The message was clear. If one falls, so does the other. Quietly, both sides agreed. No one wanted to disappear. And from that day on, fish and humans tried—however imperfectly—to live in balance.