JENNEPUT
by Simke Kloosterman · from Twiljocht-teltsjes : $b Maerkes
Adapted Version
Once upon a time, an old woman had a goat. His name was Jenneput. He was white and soft. He was her best friend. She loved him very much. They were happy together.
One day, the woman went to town. "Stay near home, Jenneput," she said. "Be a good goat." Jenneput nodded his head. He promised to stay.
But Jenneput did not listen. He walked far away. He felt very free. He saw green grass. He saw a big tree. He wanted to explore. He walked and walked.
A bad man saw him. The man had a rope. He came to Jenneput. "Come here, goat," he said. He put the rope on Jenneput. He took Jenneput away.
The old woman came home. "Jenneput!" she called. He was not there. She looked by the pond. She looked in the woods. She called his name again. He did not come. She was very sad.
The next day, she went to market. "I must find my goat," she said. She walked and walked. She looked at every goat. None of them was Jenneput. She kept looking.
Jenneput was in a bad place. It was dark and dirty. He was very hungry. He was very sad. He missed his home. He wished he had listened. He felt sorry.
The bad man cleaned Jenneput. He put a rope on him. He took Jenneput to the market. "I will sell this goat," he thought.
People looked at Jenneput. The man wanted a lot of money. "Who will buy my goat?" he asked. One man looked interested. He wanted to buy him.
The old woman came to the market. She saw Jenneput! "That is my goat!" she shouted. "That is my Jenneput!" She was brave.
A big, stern man heard her. "What is wrong?" he asked the old woman.
"That is my goat," she said. "I want him back. I believe in justice."
The big man smiled. "I am the King," he said. "You will have justice."
The King closed the market. He sent his men to find the goat. "Find the goat!" he said.
Jenneput heard the old woman's voice. "Bê! Bê!" he cried. He jumped to her. The King's men caught the bad man.
Jenneput licked the old woman's hand. They were so happy together. He followed her all the way home.
The bad men learned a lesson. Jenneput never wandered far from home again.
Jenneput learned to listen. And the old woman was brave. Good things happen when you are kind and just.
Original Story
JENNEPUT.
Der wie ris in âld wyfke en dy hie neat oars as ien lyts geitsje. Sniewyt wie ’t mei kliene skonkjes en moaije tinne earkes en goedlike eachjes en it hjitte Jenneput. Ho-t it sa kaem, det it Jenneput hjitte, wit ik net, mar de saek lei der sa ta.
It âld wyfke wenne hielendal allinne op de heide en Jenneput wenne der by hjar en mocht boartsje, hwer ’t ’r mar woe, mar jouns den kaem ’r oan in grou tsjur mei in spit fen izer en den moast ’r op it hiemke bliûwe. Hy stie den wol ris op syn efterste poatsjes en blêdte in skoft earmoedich, mar it âld wyfke liet him betien en skoatele de doar en gyng op bêd. En Jenneput joech him den ek al gau del yn ’e smoute fen ’t âld hok en yn ljochtmoanne waer like syn wite feltsje suver in klobke snie, as ’r sa oprôlle yn in hoekje lei.
En moarns, o hwet wie ’r bliid, as de frou der oan kaem mei ’t môlkammerke! Hy bislikke hjar hânnen en roek oan hjar rôk en skripte krekt sa lang, as ’r de bûse foun ûnder de skelk en syn timpe brea. En mei syn lytse wite biterkes pluze ’r it den lekker op en stie sa stil as in mûske. Den kaem it spit út de groun en ’t tsjur los en Jenneput sprong mei in swaei op it striebultsje efterhûs en postuerde him der sa mâl, det it âld wyfke glimke der fen. Laeitsje koe se net mear, det hie it leed hjar forleard.
Op in goede dei sei se tsjin Jenneput: „Nou moat ik hjoed de hiele dei foart. Fêstsette kin ik dy net, dû scoest dy forhingje kinne en yn ’t hok is ek gjin dwaen fenwegen de waermte. Ik scil dy dos frij rinne litte. Scilst gjin geitsjekwea útheve en fetsoenlik thúskomme, as ik dy joun rop?”
Jenneput nikte earnstich mei syn lyts hierrich kopke. „Ik scil net ûndôgens wêze,” ûnthjitte ’r mei bliid geblêdt, „en bliûwe by honk.”
De frou pakte de geitesyskes yn ’e braskoer en it wjirmkrûd en ’e balsem en ’e hounebeistal en ’e kamilleblommen, hwent hja wie in krûdesykster fen hjar affearen en joech hjar ôf yn ’e moaije moarn. De fûgels songene om hjar hinne, de sinne skynde op hjar âld tipmûtske en yn ’e sleat, hwer hja by lâns roan, hearde hja it gerissel fen in einemem mei pilen yn ’e rûchte fen ’e ûnderwâl. En it roek ’r, it roek ’r! alle hearlike geuren fen ’e maitiid op ien stuit!
’t Ald wyfke bleau efkes stilstean to sjen, in lyts minskje yn ’t wiid rounom fen wetter, loft en ierde, alles yn syn aldermoaijste toai. Ticht oan hjar lâns yn in wiid wetter sylde in skip mei in wyt seil en in flagge yn top en fierder ôf kamen ’r noch twa oaren oan, ien mei in brún en ien mei in sangen seil, sa moai as ’t wyfke noch noait sjoen hie. De wyn blies der yn en nou stie it út yn al syn pracht en der bigoan fen ’e mêst in wimpel to waeijen, in goudene. lt wyfke seach hjar de eagen hast út de holle en roan sa hird as hja koe, nei det wide wetter ta. De braskoer wipte op en del en de skoen rekken der by út...
Sa stie hja der by de wâl en seach det keninklike skip foarby farren mei syn tugaezje fen poarper en goud en syn touwen fen klearebare side... En hja seach der mar ien man op, in greate, swiere, swarte man oan ’t roer. En fenwegen al dy hearlikheit rekke hja alhiel oerstjûr en hja wiûwde mei hjar hân nei dy man oan ’t roer in bliid goe-moarn!
En hy wiûwde werom, ta twaris ta, mar syn antlit bleau stoef. En it skip waerde wei oan ’e ljochte einder en it wyfke joech hjar ôf en prakkeseare hjar hast staf, hokker reizger det wol wêze koe, dy-t der sa ier yn de moarn op ôfstiek mei sa ’n pracht.
Lang om let—hwent o it wie sa ’n ein! kaem se yn ’e stêd en forkoft de tsyskes en ’e krûden en laedde do de braskoer fol mei winkelwaren en in pak kjersen en Jenneput, der koft se in boskje lekkere, swiete woarteltsjes for. En sa skonke se wer nei hûs, aerdich stadiger as yn ’e hinnereis, hwent hjar âlde skonken waerden warrich fen ’t ein gean.
De sinne wie al ûnder, do kaem se thús. De skelfink fluite yn ’t hôfke, poeke rekte him út yn ’t finsterbank en kaem bliid miaukjend op hjar ta en streake om hjar hinne. Mar Jenneput, hwer wie dy? Nearne to sjen en hja koe oars fier sjen, hwent de neiste bûrljue wennen wol in healûre fen hjar ôf.
„Jenneput!” rôp hja binaud. Mar och, hjar âld lûd droech net fier mear. En hja rôp noch ris om Jenneput en noch ris, mar it moaije wite geitsje seach se op gjin fjilden noch wegen. Hja dronk in pear swolchjefollen môlke en biet yn it boltsje, mar hja koe ’t iten der hast net trochkrije. Hja smiet de skoen út en skoerde de heakken en oezen fen ’t nije jak by twaën en trijen los, it âld jak oan en de klompen, sa roan se it lân út, om Jenneput to siikjen.
Earst nei ’t poeltsje, der boarte ’r faken ef lei ’r op ’e knibbeltsjes by to drinken. Neat. Do nei de dyk, det wie al sa ’n boartershoekje. Utriden oan alle kanten fen syn foetsjes, selst de beamwoartels bleat en de tûken keal fretten, mar gjin Jenneput Op ’t lêst nei ’t spjirreboskje, hwer ’r faek om middei hinne syn hael socht yn ’t skaed. It waerd der al tsjuster ûnder ’e hege beammen en foksen en wezelingen seagen hjar al mei greate kralerige útsljipte eagen oan, krekt as laken hja hjar út, mar gjin Jenneput to bikennen. Do waerde it hjar krappernôch en hja bigoan to skriemen, dêr lykme allinne yn ’e greate bosk mei hjar yneine trochroanne foetten.
En hja gyng bidrukt werom en gûlende op bêd en sleepte Jenneput syn tsjur en tou mei yn ’e hûs en roek ’r oan as hwet ljeafs. Krekt as roek se it sêfte wite lyfke en aeide de hierkes en seach him yn ’e ljeave goede eachjes. Mar Jenneput sels wie der net mear, by syn âld frou.
De oare deis socht se al wer en die neifraech by de bûrljue. Dy makken hjar der sahwet ôf en hja wie in snoad wyfke, dy-t wol wiste, hwer Abram de moster weihelle hie en hja tocht hjar eigen. En dy nachts gyng hja net op bêd, krige al hjar jild út it kammenet, stiek in brogge mei spek yn ’e bûs en in pear apels for de toarst en ear ’t de dage oer ’e loft gyng, sette se de stap derûnder nei de fiere, greate stêd ta. Gjinien fen de bûrljue hie hjar sjoen, dy wierne loai, dy leine noch op ien ear. En sa gyng hja nei de fiere greate stêd, der it hjoed wykmerkdei wêze scoe en tocht om neat oars as om Jenneput.
as de frou der oankaem mei ’t môlkammerke!
En Jenneput tocht ek om hjar en gûlde greate geitetrientsjes, hwent hy hie ’t o sa min en siet yn in lyts fiis hok fol âld izer en fodden en kouwehûden en kattefellen en alles, hwet mar raer wie. Der wie ek in lilke hoanne en in protte greate hinnen mei gemiene skerpe poaten en bosken fear der oan en dy narren en hunen him en de hoanne dy fleach him op ’e rêch en kuijere der op om. En de hinnen formakken hjar en gnysken en keakelen. Der wierne ek in stik ef hwet stellene keninen en ien, in moaije Brabander mei lange sloppe earen en prachtige reade eachjes, hie bigreatsjen mei him en rearde frjeonskiplik mei syn poatsje oan him lâns en joech him tomûk in bekjefol iten, hwent hy hie al twa dagen hongerlappe. Syn eachjes stiene flau en syn bekje waerd sa spits as in mûske sines. O hwet moide it him, det ’r oerhearrich west hie en syn ûnthjit net hâlden hie oan ’e frou. Hy scoe ’t noait wer dwaen, noait! noait! en hy skopte fen forlangst nei frij sa fûleindich tsjin ’t sket oan, det alle hinnen en ’e hoanne en ’e baerch en ’t skiep bigoanen fen binaudens to skreauwen. Dêr fleach de doar op en de baes bâlte: „Dy-t him de bek net hâldt, strûp ik as in kat. Foart daedliken!”
Do wierne se allegearre ynienen stil, hwent strûpt to wirden, der hie gjinien in bulte sin oan en Jenneput krige in raem fen ’t skiep: „Scilst dy stilhâlde, jifferssik? Bist hjir ek al neat mear as in ûnnoazele geit.”
Jenneput harke raer op: geit. De frou neamde him noait oars as sikje en ljeafke en nou geit! geit..! Hy woe gjin geit wêze en raemde mei de fine skerpe hoarntsjes it skiep yn ’e ljiske. De trewinkel kaem oan en it skiep sei neat mear en foel oerside mei de poaten stiif. Krekt as waerde ’r fen hout ynienen. Det seach de hoanne en fleach op ’e rêch fen Jenneput en kraeide lûd en skel fen moart! moart! krekt sa lang, de baes kaem wer en seach de skea. En hy smiet de hoanne en ’e hinnen hwet foer foar, om se stil to krijen en hy pakte Jenneput by ’t tou, joech him in skop, det hy fleach bûtedoar op it efterhiem en dêr siet ’r do in ûre ef fjouwer to stúmjen en to forhongerjen.
Einliks der kaem dy smoarch kearel wer oan mei hjit sjipsop en in dweil en hy waerd ôfrost en ôfspield en ôfdweile en do in moai wyt touwke oan en sa nei ’t merk ta, altyd noch mei ’t lichte liif, lichtfirdich fen honger en hy gûlde de hiele wei lâns. Och, och, hwet siet ’r yn ’e lytse loege, dy ljeave wite Jenneput en hy stie to triljen twisken de oare geitsjes, krekt as hie ’r de koarts yn ’t lyfke.
Hy waerde bifield en bitûmke, yn ’t bekje sjoen en nei ’t jaerke field, faker as ienris, mar de keapers roanen lilk foart, as se de baes op jild fergen en dy den de priis sei. Einliks kaem der in man en det wie sa foartdaedlik mar klear. Jenneput seach ’t oan dy twa hjar eagen, hja spilen ûnder ien hoed, heulden mei inoar yn ’t gemiene. En Jenneput wie sa goed net, as hy moast meihippelje mei dy nije baes.
Sa kamen hja by de útgong. Der wie in hiele opskoerring. Hwet in mennichte fen minsken! Hearren en sjen forgyng der yen by en boppe alles út hearde Jenneput it lûd fen ’e frou: „Ik wol myn rjucht ha, myn rjucht!, myn lytse Jenneput!” En alle minsken raesden op ’t lêst fen Jenneput en de polysje kaem der by to pas, om oarder to skaffen. Dy rearde de minsken rjuchts en lofts oan kant en op ’t lêst bleau ’t âld wyfke allinne yn ’t foarmidden stean en neist hjar stie in greate stoefe man, mar der hie Jenneput gjin kinde oan.
„Siz nou ris dúdlik en koart, hwet jy hjir moatte,” sei de man.
„Ik moat myn geitsje werom ha. Earder gien ’k hjir net wei. Hy is my ûntstellen en scil hjoed grif wol forkwânsele wirde. ’t Is in witen ien en moaijer is der net, mynhear.”
„Bê!” rôp Jenneput. Hy krige sa ’n skoer oan ’t tou, det de kiel knypte him hast ticht en hy hâldde him hastich stil.
En de greate stoefe man hjitte alle útgongen fen ’e merke to sluten en hy hjitte in skriûwer, om alles op to skriûwen. En ’t âld wyfke en ’e greate man stiene nou togearre lykme allinne yn ’e greate iepene romte. Mar bang wie hja net.
„Al scil ’k ek om rjucht nei de kening sels,” sei se, „ik moat myn geitsje werom ha.”
„Scil de kening dy den rjucht dwaen? Keningen hâlde it ornaris mei de riken, net?” sei de greate stoefe man en fyngnyske sa ’n bytsje. Der taestte ’r it wyfke yn in tear steed fen hjar moed. „Us kening is rjucht. Dy scil in earme net om in heale sint bikrinke,” andere se bitrousum en seach him lyk yn ’e eagen. Wie det net de man oan ’t roer fen it skip mei it poarperen seil en ’e sidene touwen?
„O hear,” sei se skruten wei, „licht ha jy kinde oan ’e kening.”
„Ik bin ’t sels,” sei ’r ienfâldich, „en rjucht scill’ jy ha, frou.”
En hy hjitte trije grouwe sterke kearels, om de hiele merk ôf to siikjen nei it wite geitsje. Ien fen dy kearels krong troch it folk, Jenneput syn kant út en do-t hy deun neist him wie, sprong Jenneput yn syn binaudens by him op en jammere mar: „Bê, bê, nim my mei nei myn frou, o man...”
En mei ien sprong hie dy sterke man Jenneput syn baes by ’t nekfel en sleepte him foar de kening. Jenneput hippele him bliid efternei en do-t er by de kening kaem, foel ’r op syn knibbeltsjes út tankberheit en do mei staesje nei de frou en roek as fen âlds nei ’t timpke brea.
Hja gûlden beide suver fen blydskip en Jenneput roan hjar sûnder tou as in hountsje efternei, hielendal oan hûs ta.
En de dief waerd gisele en de keapman ek, mar Jenneput is noait wer sa fier fen hûs ôf roan, det se him stelle koene.—
Story DNA
Moral
Disobedience can lead to suffering, but justice will prevail, especially for the innocent.
Plot Summary
An old woman lives with her beloved white goat, Jenneput. One day, she leaves him untethered while she goes to market, asking him to stay home. Jenneput disobeys, wanders off, and is stolen by a cruel man. The old woman, heartbroken, travels to the city market, determined to find him. Jenneput suffers greatly in captivity, regretting his disobedience. At the market, the old woman bravely confronts the thief and appeals for justice to a stern man who reveals himself to be the King. The King orders Jenneput found, and the goat joyfully reunites with his mistress, while the wrongdoers are punished.
Themes
Emotional Arc
anxiety to relief
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
The story reflects a time when common people might appeal directly to a monarch for justice, and the importance of livestock to a poor household.
Plot Beats (15)
- An old woman lives with her cherished white goat, Jenneput, who is usually tethered but allowed to roam during the day.
- One morning, the old woman must go to town and, trusting Jenneput, leaves him untethered with a warning to stay near home.
- Jenneput, feeling free, disobeys his mistress and wanders far from home, eventually being captured by a man.
- The old woman returns home in the evening to find Jenneput missing and searches for him in vain, spending a night of sorrow.
- The next morning, the old woman, suspecting theft, travels to the distant city market to find Jenneput.
- Jenneput is held in a filthy, cruel environment, abused by other animals and his captor, and suffers from hunger and regret.
- Jenneput is cleaned up and taken to the market to be sold, still weak from hunger and fear.
- At the market, Jenneput is inspected by potential buyers, but his captor's high price deters them until one man agrees.
- As the sale is finalized, the old woman arrives at the market, loudly demanding justice and the return of her goat.
- A stern man, who the old woman recognizes as the man from the ship she saw earlier, intervenes and asks her to state her case.
- The old woman confidently declares her belief in the King's justice, even for the poor, and the stern man reveals himself to be the King.
- The King orders the market closed and sends three men to find the white goat.
- Jenneput, recognizing his mistress's voice, jumps towards one of the searchers, who then apprehends Jenneput's captor.
- Jenneput joyfully reunites with the old woman, showing his affection and loyalty.
- The thief and the buyer are punished, and Jenneput never wanders far from home again.
Characters
Jenneput
A small goat with snow-white fur, slender legs, delicate thin ears, and kind eyes. Its build is light and agile, allowing it to jump and kick with surprising force.
Attire: None, as a goat. Its most prominent feature is its snow-white coat.
Wants: To be free to play, to be loved and cared for by the old woman, and to return to her when lost.
Flaw: Curiosity and a desire for freedom, which leads it to wander too far from home and get captured.
Starts as a playful but obedient goat. Disobeys its owner, gets captured, suffers greatly, and learns the value of obedience and the comfort of home. It returns home, forever loyal and never wandering far again.
Playful, affectionate, obedient (initially), remorseful, spirited, and loyal. It deeply regrets its disobedience.
The Old Woman
A small, frail elderly woman, described as 'a little person in the wide expanse of water, air, and earth'. Her old legs become weary from walking long distances. Her hands are familiar to Jenneput.
Attire: Simple, practical peasant clothing suitable for the Dutch countryside. She wears an apron over her skirt, and a 'tipmûtske' (pointed cap) on her head. She has an old jacket and wooden clogs ('klompen') for outdoor work, and a new jacket for special occasions. She carries a 'braskoer' (basket) for collecting herbs and market goods.
Wants: To care for Jenneput, to earn a living by collecting and selling herbs, and most importantly, to find and reclaim Jenneput when he is lost.
Flaw: Her old age and physical frailty make long journeys difficult. Her deep affection for Jenneput makes her vulnerable to worry and sorrow.
Starts as a content, solitary woman. Experiences profound grief and anxiety when Jenneput goes missing. Transforms into a fiercely determined advocate for her goat, demonstrating courage and resilience. Her faith in justice is affirmed when the King helps her.
Kind, loving, resourceful, determined, trusting, and deeply devoted to Jenneput. She is also observant and has a strong sense of justice.
The King
A large, heavy, dark-haired man. He appears stern and imposing.
Attire: Initially seen on a ship in 'purple and gold' attire with 'silk ropes', indicating royal or very wealthy status. When on land, he is described as a 'great stern man', suggesting he might be in less formal but still imposing attire, perhaps a dark, heavy coat or cloak befitting a Dutch monarch of the period.
Wants: To ensure justice is served, especially for the poor and vulnerable, and to maintain order.
Flaw: None explicitly stated, but perhaps a tendency to appear unapproachable due to his stern demeanor.
Initially appears as a distant, stern figure on a ship. Later, he reveals his identity and acts as a just ruler, resolving the conflict and ensuring the old woman receives justice.
Stern, just, observant, and fair. He is initially reserved but reveals a benevolent nature when confronted with a plea for justice.
The Thief/Goat Seller
Described as a 'smoarch kearel' (dirty fellow) and 'baes' (boss) of the pen. He is rough and physically abusive towards the animals.
Attire: Likely simple, soiled clothing befitting a market seller who deals with animals and old junk. Perhaps a coarse linen shirt and trousers, possibly a leather apron.
Wants: To profit from selling stolen goods, specifically Jenneput.
Flaw: His greed and dishonesty lead to his downfall when confronted by the King's justice.
Introduced as the cruel captor of Jenneput. His actions lead to his punishment by the King.
Cruel, greedy, abusive, and dishonest. He shows no compassion for the animals in his care.
Locations
Old Woman's Heathland Cottage
A small, humble cottage situated alone on the vast heathland. Inside, it's cozy and simple, with a bed and a 'môlkammerke' (milk churn/dairy room). The exterior has a small yard ('hiemke') and a straw pile ('striebultsje') behind it.
Mood: Cozy, solitary, safe, humble, later anxious and sorrowful
Jenneput spends his nights here, tethered. The old woman leaves from here for the market and returns to find Jenneput missing. She later returns here with Jenneput.
Heathland and Waterways
A wide, open landscape of heathland with ditches, a pool ('poeltsje'), a dike, and a spruce forest ('spjirreboskje'). There are also wide waterways where ships with sails pass by.
Mood: Peaceful, expansive, vibrant, later desolate and frightening
The old woman travels through this landscape to and from the city, observing the ships. She later searches for Jenneput here, becoming increasingly desperate.
Thief's Filthy Shed
A small, dirty shed filled with old iron, rags, cowhides, cat skins, and other foul items. It houses a rooster, many large hens, a pig, a sheep, and stolen rabbits.
Mood: Miserable, oppressive, cruel, chaotic
Jenneput is held captive here after being stolen, suffering abuse and hunger.
City Market
A bustling, crowded city market on market day, filled with many people, stalls, and animals. It has multiple exits and a central open space.
Mood: Chaotic, noisy, bustling, later tense and dramatic
Jenneput is brought here to be sold. The old woman confronts the thief and appeals to the King for justice, leading to Jenneput's rescue.