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A Reader's Guide to African Folktales at
the Internet Archive

A Reader's Guide to
African Folktales at the
Internet Archive

200 Books, plus an Anthology of Stories

LAURA GIBBS

©®

A Reader's Guide to African Folktales at the Internet Archive by Laura Gibbs is
licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License,
except where otherwise noted.

Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Bibliography

The Books

Anthology

The Stories

1. How We Got the Name "Anansi Tales"
2. Wisdom and the Human Race

3. Thunder and Anansi

4. The Flame Tree

5. The Buffalo Maiden

6. The Elephant that Wanted to Dance
7. The Language of the Beasts

8. Half-a-Rooster

9. The Hare and the Lion

10. Goso the Teacher

Tl. Mkaah Jeechonee, the Boy Hunter
12. How Mafani Earned His Bride

13. How the Turtle Outwitted the Pig
14. The Punishment of the Turtle

15. Mantis and Will-o-the-Wisp

127
130
133
136
140
145

151
156

161
167
173
178
189
194
197
203

16. Mantis and Aardwolf

17. The Rooster's Kraal: A Swazi Tale
18. The Three Little Eggs: A Swazi Tale
19. How the Animals Dug Their Well
20. Death of the Hare

21. Cunning Rabbit and His Well

22. A Ghost Story

23. The Hunter and His
24. Of the Fat Woman who Melted Away

Friends

25. The Leopard, the Squirrel, and the Tortoise
26. The Spider and Nzambi's Daughter

27. A Different Story about Nzambi's Daughter
28. The Rabbit and the Antelope

29. Motikatika

30. How Isuro the Rabbit Tricked Gudu

31. The Sacred Milk of Koummongoe

32. The Jackal, the Dove, and the Panther

33. The Lion, the Hyena, and the Fox

34. How the Fox Followed the Elephant

35. The Debbi

36. The Elephant and the Rabbit

37. The Frog and the Chameleon

38. The Man and the Sheep

39. The Horns of Plenty

40. Tanga, the Child of Night

41. The Snake v
42. Tne Leopard of the Fine Skin

Five Heads

43. Tortoise in a Race
44. A Chain of Circumstances
45. The Spider Passes on a Debt

46. The Hyena and the Spider Visit the King
47. The Woman who Bore a Clay Pot

48. How the Gazelle Won His Wife

49. How the Fox Saved the Frog's Life

50. How the Squirrel Repaid a Kindness

Notes to the Stories

Appendix: Timeline

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Norman, Jr., Norman Sr., Robert, and
David, who moved ALL the books — thank you, gentlemen! This

new “book of books” would not have been possible without
your help.

Introduction

This book is divided into two parts: a Bibliography of books
containing traditional African stories — folktales, epics,
legends, and more — that you can find at the Internet Archive,
plus an Anthology of traditional African stories reprinted from
public domain sources (i.e. books published before 1927). | hope
that these books and these stories will be useful for learners
of all ages who want to find out more about traditional stories
and storytellers from Africa.

The Bibliography

In choosing the 200 entries for the Bibliography, | tried to cover
a wide range of materials. You will find beautifully illustrated
children’s books as well as monumental works of academic
scholarship, each contributing in its own way to documenting
the storytelling traditions of Africa. Some entries feature one
book only, while others feature several related books. The most
important thing is that all these hundreds of books are just
a click away online, instantly available to you at the Internet
Archive. So, when you see a book that interests you, you can
just click and start reading!

For the main book in each entry, I’ve included the Internet
Archive address of the book, and that archive.org address is
a link you can click on. There are often related book titles in
an entry, and those titles are also links to the Internet Archive
that you can click on. | included the URLs just in case someone
is reading the print version of the book without links; you can
always type the address into your web browser to access the
book or search for the book using the Internet Archive’s search
features. Even better, though, would be to download your own

| 1

free digital copy of this book so that you can click on the links.
You can download the free digital copy (PDF or epub) here:
Bibliography.LauraGibbs.net.

The 200 book entries are organized alphabetically by the
authors’ last names. In each entry, I’ve tried to provide some
background information about the authors and the illustrators
so that they will be more than just names on a page. When
| could find a Wikipedia article about an author or artist, |
included a link to Wikipedia too. So, if you see a linked book
title, that link goes to the Internet Archive, but if you see a
linked name, that link goes to Wikipedia.

In addition, after each entry you will find suggestions for
more books: more books from that same region of Africa, more
books in that same genre, more books by the same author or
illustrated by the same artist, etc. So, you can read through the
entries in order, or you can create your own trail through the
entries by following your own interests.

Some of the books included here are in the public domain,
which means they are available for you to read online and even
to download without any restrictions. Most of the books,
however, are copyrighted works that are available via a system
called “Controlled Digital Lending” — in other words, you can
check out digital books for a fixed period of time from the
Internet Archive just as you would check out a physical book
from a physical library. After you create your free account, you
can check out books for an hour at a time (sometimes longer),
and you can check out the same book repeatedly, provided
that nobody else is waiting to read it.

There are literally millions of books available for digital
borrowing at the Internet Archive, with new books being added
all the time. For more African books, and also books from the
African Diaspora, you can visit my blog, Laura’s Bookshelf,
where | write about new books every day. Here’s the address:
Bookshelf.LauraGibbs.net

2 |

The Anthology

You will find 50 different African folktales in the Anthology
portion of this book, many with illustrations. | hope that by
browsing the stories in the Anthology you will get a sense of
the kinds of stories that you like most. Maybe it will be the fairy
tales, or perhaps the animal stories, or you might be curious
about the stories that include songs and music.

Each story in the Anthology comes from a book that you can
find in the Bibliography. So, when you discover a story that you
like, you can instantly access that book at the Internet Archive
and read more stories. You can also use the Bibliography to
find related books, including more recent publications, which
is something | would urge you to do. Thanks to the resources
of the Internet Archive, you can go beyond the public domain
books of a century ago to explore more contemporary books,
especially books by African and African American authors.

And here's another thought: you too can use the old public
domain books to create your own anthologies. Perhaps you are
a teacher who wants to create a textbook for your students, or
maybe you are a parent who wants to create a book for your
children (or grandchildren or nieces or nephews), or you might
be an artist who wants to create new illustrations for these old
stories. That is all possible with public domain books at the
Internet Archive and also at other public domain projects like
Project Gutenberg at Gutenberg.org and LibriVox.org, a public

domain audiobook project. It’s easy to publish and even print
your own books using a service like Pressbooks, which is the
service | used to create this book; you can find out more at
Pressbooks.com.

Meanwhile, thousands and thousands of African stories await
you online. | hope this book will inspire you to explore widely,
read lots of stories, and then share your favorite stories with
others. That’s how the stories stay alive, thanks to each and
every storyteller.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

#1. Aardema, Verna. Behind the Back of the Mountain: Black
Folktales from Southern Africa. \|lustrated by Leo and Diane
Dillon. Published in 1973. Pages: 86.
archive.org/details/behindbackof mounOOO0Ounse

Verna Aardema [1911-2000] was a prolific author of children’s
books based on African folktales, beginning with Tales from
the Story Hat in 1960 and More Tales from the Story Hat in

1966; you can find out more in her memoir, A Bookworm Who
Hatched, published in 1992. Here in Behind the Back of the
Mountain, you will find 10 folktales from southern Africa. The

beautiful illustrations are by the African American artist Leo
Dillon [1933-2012] and his wife, Diane Dillon [b. 1933]. For more
books by Aardema illustrated by the Dillons, see the following
two items.

More from southern Africa: [1], 17, 29, 34, 36, 45, 49, 65, 78,
80, 91, 111, 112, 122, 135, 138, 146, 163, 169, 184, 196

#2. Aardema, Verna. Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People’s Ears:
A West African Tale. \|lustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon.
Published in 1975. Pages: 27.
archive.org/details/whymosquitoesbuzOOaard

For more about the author Verna Aardema and the artists Leo
and Diane Dillon, see the previous item. This book won the

Caldecott Medal, and it features a cumulative chain tale, one of
the most popular African folktale genres: the mosquito begins
a long chain of trouble that ends with the reason why
mosquitoes buzz in people’s ears. For more from Aardema and
the Dillons, see the following item.

More award-winning books: [2], 38, 53, 67, 69, 72, 94, 98,
100, 104, 136, 145, 181

#3. Aardema, Verna. Who’s in Rabbit’s House? A Masai Tale.
\llustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon. Published in 1979. Pages:
30.

archive.org/details/whosinrabbitshouO0OOaard

This Maasai story from eastern Africa originally appeared in a
book that Verna Aardema published in 1969: Tales for the Third
Ear from Equatorial Africa. Aardema's source for the story

was A. C. Hollis’s collection of Maasai folktales [see #108 below],
which includes the story both in the Maasai language and in
English: “The Caterpillar and the Wild Animals.” To illustrate
Aardema’s version of the story, Leo and Diane Dillon show the

events as a dramatic performance by the people of a Maasai
village who wear masks representing the animal characters.

Other authors have worked with this same story, including
Melinda Lilly in Warrior Son of a Warrior Son [see #126 below]
and Tololwa Mollel in Rhinos for Lunch and Elephants for
Supper [see #143 below].

More from the Maasai people: [3], 108, 126, 134, 143
More Rabbit stories: [3], 4, 78, 103, 131, 146, 185

#4. Aardema, Verna. Rabbit Makes a Monkey of Lion: A
Swahili Tale. \|lustrated by Jerry Pinkney. Published in 1989.
Pages: 28.

archive.org/details/rabbitmakesmonkeOOOOaard

In this book, Verna Aardema collaborated with the African

American artist Jerry Pinkney [1939-2021]. The story about the
trickster rabbit comes from George Bateman’s book of tales

8 |

from Zanzibar [see #25 below]: “The Hare and the Lion.” You

can also find a Swahili version of the story in Edward Steere’s
book Swahili Tales as Told by Natives of Zanzibar [see #180
below]: “The Hare and the Lion / Sungura na Simba.”

Aardema and Pinkney also collaborated on a book inspired
by African riddles: Ji-Nongo-Nongo Means Riddles. For more

from Aardema, see the previous and following items.

More from Jerry Pinkney: [4], 14, 15, 93, 199
More Swahili stories: [4], 25, 130, 180

#5. Aardema, Verna. Misoso: Once Upon a Time Tales from
Africa. \llustrated by Reynold Ruffins. Published in 1994. Pages:
88.

archive.org/details/misosoonceuponti0Oaard

For this book, Verna Aardema [see #1 above] worked with the
African American artist Reynold Ruffins [1930-2021; see also

#89 below]. The book includes 12 stories, mostly from western
Africa, with a bibliography of sources in the back.

One of Aardema’s sources was “Bata Kindai Amgoza lon
Lobagola,” the African identity created by Joseph Howard Lee

[1877-1947], who masqueraded for many years as a self-
proclaimed “savage” from western Africa. Under that name
Lee published both an autobiography and also a collection
of stories, Folktales of a Savage. Aardema, along with many

others, took Lobagola at his word, and she retold his story “The
Man Who Thought That He Was Foolish” in this book, side by
side with stories from African sources.

More from African American / Diaspora artists: 1, 2, 3, 4,
[5], 14, 15, 37, 38, 39, 72, 86, 89, 93, 99, 102, 104, 110, 145, 154,
157, 176, 181, 186, 195, 199

#6. A'Bodjedi, Enénge. Ndowé Tales. Published in 1999. Pages:
257.
archive.org/details/ndowetalesIndoweOO0abod

Enénge A’Bodjedi begins his book with a cultural overview of
the Ndowe people of Equatorial Guinea on the west coast of
central Africa. As the author explains, he immigrated to the
United States to escape the Macias dictatorship in the 1970s,
and while in the United States he began collecting stories from
other Ndowe people so that he could preserve and share their
traditions in English. A’Bodjedi has included 15 stories in this
book, each of which is accompanied by detailed notes.

More from central Africa: [6], 85, 147, 174, 183

#7. Abrahams, Roger. African Folk Tales: Traditional Stories of
the Black World. Published in 1983. Pages: 353.
archive.org/details/africanfolktalesOOOOunse_n5b9

This anthology by Roger Abrahams [1933-2017], a professor of

folklore at the University of Pennsylvania, contains 93 stories
from across Africa. The stories are organized thematically:
wonder tales, dilemma tales, tricksters and animal tales, epic
tales, and tales of daily life, along with a detailed bibliography
of sources.

In addition to his work on African folklore, Abrahams also
wrote about African American and Caribbean traditions,
including this important anthology: African American

Folktales: Stories from Black Traditions in the New World.

More from across Africa: [7], 16, 21, 22, 48, 56, 60, 61, 75, 76,
84, 87, 92, 121, 123, 133, 155, 162, 164, 168, 1770, 200

10 |

#8. Achebe, Chinua and John Iroaganachi. How Leopard Got
His Claws [East African Educational Publishers Sparrow
Readers series]. Published in 1996. Pages: 25.
archive.org/details/howleopardgothisOOache

Yes, this is a children’s book by the renowned Nigerian novelist
Chinua Achebe [1930-2013], author of Things Fall Apart. The
story, first written by John Iroaganachi [b. 1928] and later

revised by Achebe, uses traditional African folktale characters
to create a literary fable inspired by the Biafra conflict. The
“Lament of the Deer” included in the story was composed by
Christopher Okigbo [1932-1967], a Nigerian poet who died
fighting for Biafran independence.

For another folkloric story by Achebe, see his Tortoise tale,
“The Drum,” in Véronique Tadjo’s Chasing the Sun, #187 below.

More from Nigeria: [8], 30, 51, 57, 58, 59, 67, 86, 151, 152, 153,
156, 177, 185, 191, 193, 194

#9. African Women's Network. Stories from Africa. |llustrated
by the authors. Published in 2009. Pages: 35.
archive.org/details/horsestortoisesrOO0Ounse

This book is the result of a community-based project from the
African Women’s Network in Dublin, Ireland, featuring 10
stories written and illustrated by members of the collective.
Most, but not all, of the stories are animal stories, and each
story indicates its country of provenance along with the name
of the storyteller. The book is intended for use in elementary
schools so that Irish children can learn about Africa and also for
African children living in Ireland so that they can celebrate their
heritage.

More from African authors: 6, 8, [9], 11, 18, 51,64, 69, 70, 71,
72, 74, 86, 96, 97, 109, 112, 113, 116, 132, 134, 139, 140, 141, 143,

| 7

144, 148, 149, 150, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 160, 166, 174, 1'76, 1877,
189, 193

#10. Al-Shahi, Ahmed and Francis C. T. Moore. Wisdom from
the Nile: A Collection of Folk-Stories from Northern and
Central Sudan [Oxford Library of African Literature series].
Published in 1978. Pages: 256.
archive.org/details/wisdomfromnileOOoxfo

The 71 stories in this book provide a gateway into the Arabic
storytelling traditions of northern Africa. The stories were
collected by students at the University of Khartoum working
with storytellers in communities along the Nile in upper and
central Sudan. The authors, Anmed Al-Shahi and Francis C.
T. Moore, then translated the stories into English. There is a
long introduction that puts the stories in their cultural and
geographic context, and there is also a detailed glossary of
words and concepts in the back of the book.

More from northern Africa: [10], 24, 50, 77, 88, 115, 142, 172
More from the Oxford Library of African Literature: [10],
82, 90, 169

#11. Amadu. Amadu’s Bundle: Fulani Tales of Love and Djinns
[African Writers series]. Edited by Gulla Kell and translated by
Ronald Moody. Published in 1972. Pages: 88.
archive.org/details/amadusbundlefulaOO0O0amad

This book contains 28 stories written by Amadu, a Fulani
malum (scholar) from western Nigeria, as edited and
translated into German by the anthropologist Gulla Pfeffer Kell
[1887-1967]. Kell was working with the Ful-sopeaking peoples of
Cameroon and Nigeria in the 1920s when she met Amadu on

12 |

his travels through the Ngaoundéré Plateau of Cameroon. He
shared with her a bundle of stories he had written down; hence
the title of the book [compare Rattray’s work with Shaihua,
a Hausa malam; see #165 below]. Ronald Moody [1900-1984]
later translated the stories into English for the African Writers
series; for another book in this important series, see #193 below:
The Way We Lived: Ibo Customs and Stories by Rems
Umeasiegbu.

More from western Africa: [11], 14, 15, 19, 28, 30, 31, 53, 64,
95, 105, 131, 132, 147, 150, 160, 166

#12. Appiah, Peggy. Ananse the Spider: Tales from an Ashanti
Village. \llustrated by Peggy Wilson. Published in 1966. Pages:
152.

archive.org/details/anansespidertaleOOOOappi

Peggy Appiah [1921-2006] was a British-born author of
children’s books whose husband was from Ghana, and Appiah
lived in Ghana for most of her adult life — and, yes, she is
the mother of the philosopher and cultural theorist Kwame
Anthony Appiah [b. 1954]. This book of 13 Spider stories was
Appiah’s first collection of African folktales. Appiah went on to

write many more collections of Ashanti folktales and proverbs,
as well as novels about life in western Africa. For more of
Appiah’s work, see the following item.

More Spider stories: [12], 14, 15, 18, 20, 52, 55, 63, 64, 90, 98,
114, 136, 159, 1'78

#13. Appiah, Peggy. Tales of an Ashanti Father. |llustrated by
Mora Dickson. Published in 1967. Pages: 157.
archive.org/details/talesofashantifaOOappi

| 13

For this project, Peggy Appiah has retold stories that her
husband, Joe Appiah [1918-1990], told to their children. The
book contains 22 stories, including stories about Spider and
other animals, along with stories about Numan characters.
Many of the stories are aetiological “why” stories: why the
leopard has spots, why the snake has no legs, why nephews
inherit property in Ashanti, how death came to mankind, etc.
For more Spider stories from Appiah, see the previous item.

More from Ghana: 12, [13], 18, 20, 32, 37, 55, 90, 136, 165, 199

#14. Arkhurst, Joyce Cooper. The Adventures of Spider: West
African Folk Tales. \|lustrated by Jerry Pinkney. Published in
1964. Pages: 58.
archive.org/details/adventuresofspid00O0Oarkh

This book features 6 Spider stories that Joyce Arkhurst [b. 1921]
heard from storytellers in Liberia and Ghana (her husband,
Frederick Arkhurst, was a career diplomat born in Ghana). The
illustrations are by Jerry Pinkney. This was Pinkney'’s first book
and does not yet have that immediately recognizable quality of
his later work, although you can see hints of his style emerging
even here. There is also an abridged edition, The Further
Adventures of Spider, published as part of the Passport to

Reading series. For more Spider stories from Arkhurst and
Pinkney, see the following item.

More from Jerry Pinkney: 4, [14], 15, 93, 199

#15. Arkhurst, Joyce Cooper. More Adventures of Spider: West
African Folk Tales. \|lustrated by Jerry Pinkney. Published in
1972. Pages: 48.

archive.org/details/moreadventuresofOOarkh

14 |

This book is a sequel to Joyce Arkhurst and Jerry Pinkney's
earlier book, The Adventures of Spider [see previous item],
featuring 6 more Spider stories. Pinkney’s mature style as an
artist had taken shape by the time this book was published,
and the illustrations are beautiful. Unlike the previous
collection, in which the stories stood on their own without
commentary, the stories in this book each have a brief
introduction providing some cultural context, and there is also
a glossary in the front of the book.

More Spider stories: 12, 14, [15], 18, 20, 52, 55, 63, 64, 90, 98,
114, 136, 159, 178

#16. Arnott, Kathleen. African Myths and Legends [Oxford
Myths and Legends series]. Illustrated by Joan Kiddell-Monroe.
Published in 1962. Pages: 212.
archive.org/details/africanmythslegeOOarno

Kathleen Arnott [1914-2010] was an English missionary who

lived for 12 years in Nigeria, arriving there in 1939 and returning
to England in 1951. This book of 34 stories, with illustrations
by Joan Kiddell-Monroe [1908-1972], was Arnott’s first folktale
anthology. The stories come from a variety of African

storytelling traditions, with a bibliography of sources in the
back of the book. Some of the Hausa and Fulani stories in
the book were translated into English by Arnott’s husband,
David Whitehorn Arnott [1915-2004], a professor of West African
languages at the London School of Oriental and African

Studies. Kathleen Arnott is also the author of Tales of Temba:

Traditional African Stories, which features illustrations by

African American artist Tom Feelings [see #104 below].

More Oxford Myths and Legends: [16], 28, 142

| 15

#17. Atkinson, Norman. The Broken Promise, and Other
Traditional Fables from Zimbabwe. \|llustrated by Tali Geva-
Bradley. Published in 1989. Pages: 88.
archive.org/details/brokenpromiseothOOatki

Norman Atkinson [1932-2014] was an educator affiliated with
the University of Zimbabwe (formerly the University of
Rhodesia). He was born in Ireland, attended university in
Ireland and England, and then came to Zimbabwe in 1970
where he spent the rest of his life. This book contains 16 stories,
mostly from Shona storytellers, along with some Ndebele and
Venda stories. The book is intended for teachers and students,
so you will find discussion questions and suggested learning
activities throughout the book.

More from southern Africa: ], [17], 29, 34, 36, 45, 49, 65, 78,
80, 91, 111, 112, 122, 135, 138, 146, 163, 169, 184, 196

#18. Badoe, Adwoa. The Pot of Wisdom: Ananse Stories.
Illustrated by Baba Wagué Diakité. Published in 2001. Pages:
64.

archive.org/details/potofwisdomO00adwo

Adwoa Badoe, a physician and a storyteller, was born and
educated in Ghana; she now lives in Canada. This book features
10 Spider stories that Badoe heard growing up in Ghana. The
illustrations are by Baba Wagué Diakité [b. 1961; see #69-7]1
below], an artist and writer from Mali who now lives in Oregon.
Badoe dedicated the book to her mother, while Diakité’s
dedication is to his grandmother, who told him that “stories
teach us about the importance of all living creatures.”

More from African artists: [18], 69, 70, 71, 74, 81, 96, 112, 118,
134, 139, 160, 164, 1877, 196

16 |

#19. Barbosa, Rogério Andrade. African Animal Tales.
Translated by Feliz Guthrie and Illustrated by Ciga Fittipaldi.
Published in 1993. Pages: 63.
archive.org/details/africananimaltalOObarb

Rogério Andrade Barbosa is a Brazilian author, and he wrote

this book based on his experiences living in Guinea-Bissau
(formerly Portuguese Guinea) where he worked for the United
Nations. In retelling these 10 animal stories, Barbosa has
created frametales that set up each storytelling scene. For
example, the story of “The Rain-God’s Vengeance” opens with
the story of a hippo hunt, while the story of “Why Dogs Sniff
Each Other” is presented as the story a grandfather tells to his
grandson. The illustrations by Ci¢a Fittipaldi are inspired by the
Yoruban art traditions of western Africa.

More from western Africa: 11, 14, 15, [19], 28, 30, 31, 53, 64,
95, 105, 131, 132, 147, 150, 160, 166

#20. Barker, William and Cecilia Sinclair. West African Folk-
Tales. \llustrated by Cecilia Sinclair. Published in 1917. Pages:
184. [This book is in the public domain; see the Anthology in the
back of this book for some stories.]
archive.org/details/westafricanfolktOObarkrich

William Barker and Cecilia Sinclair collected these stories from
African students at a teacher training center in Accra, the
capital of Ghana. The students wrote down the stories in
English, and the authors then selected 36 stories to include
in the book, sometimes combining multiple versions of the
same story into a single version. Many of the stories in the book
are about Anansi the Spider, and Cecilia Sinclair’s illustrations

| 17

depict the trickster in his human form. There is also a free
LibriVox recording of this book.

More from Ghana: 12, 13, 18, [20], 32, 37, 55, 90, 136, 165, 199

#21. Bascom, William. African Dilemma Tales. Published in
1975. Pages: 162.
archive.org/details/africandilemmataO0OO0Ounse_q6w6

In this book, William Bascom [1912-1981], an anthropologist at

the University of California at Berkeley, presents summaries of
168 African dilermma tales, often including multiple variations
of the same story, along with a detailed bibliography. Each
story ends with a “dilemma?” in the form of two or three or more
choices, with the idea being that the storyteller’s audience
would then debate the options. These stories are sometimes
called “riddle tales,” but unlike a riddle, the dilemrmma tale does
not have a specific solution; instead, the dilemma is meant to
be open to debate. For more from Bascom, see the following
item.

More from across Africa: 7, 16, [21], 22,48, 56, 60, 61, 75, 76,
84, 87, 92, 121, 123, 133, 155, 162, 164, 168, 170, 200

#22. Bascom, William. African Folktales in the New World.
Published in 1992. Pages: 243.
archive.org/details/africanfolktalesOOOObasc

After his definitive work on African dilermma tales [see the
previous item], William Bascom published this groundbreaking

study of African folktales in the Americas. The book has 14
chapters, with each chapter focusing on a specific story that
is attested in Africa and also found in the Americas. As with
the dilemma tales, Bascom here provides hundreds of story

18 |

summaries along with a detailed bibliography that you can use
to find the full version of each story, many of which are available
at the Internet Archive.

In addition to these folktale studies, Bascom is also the
author of ethnographic works such as The Yoruba of

Southwestern Nigeria and Ifa Divination: Communication

between Gods and Men in West Africa.

More African folklore in the Americas: [22], 59, 100, 105,
109

#23. Baskerville, Rosetta. The Flame Tree and Other Folk-Lore
Stories from Uganda. ||lustrated by Mrs. E. G. Morris. Published
in 1900. Pages: 113. [This book is in the public domain; see the
Anthology in the back of this book for some stories.]
archive.org/details/flametreeotherfoOObask

Rosetta Baskerville was the wife of George Baskerville, a
missionary in Uganda. This was her first book of Ugandan
folktales, published in 1900, with 22 stories plus 2 songs. In
1922 Baskerville published a second collection, The King of the
Snakes and Other Folk-Lore Stories from Uganda, which

contains an additional 26 stories, 4 songs, plus a selection of
proverbs. Some of the stories Baskerville heard herself, while
other stories she adapted from the Baganda folktales collected
by Apollo Kaggwa [1864-1927; see #113 below].

For a modern retelling of Baskerville’s “The Story of the Frog”

see #126 below: Wanyana and Matchmaker Frog: A
Bagandan Tale by Melinda Lilly.

More from Cameroon: 27, 94, [188]

#189. Tembo, Mwizenge. Legends of Africa. \||lustrated with
photographs. Published in 1999. Pages: 96.
archive.org/details/legendsofafrica0Otemb

Mwizenge Tembo [b. 1954] studied sociology and psychology at
the University of Zambia and completed his graduate studies
at Michigan State University. He then taught at the University
of Zambia and is now a professor at Bridgewater College in
Virginia. This book opens with a chapter on traditional myths
including creation myths and the origins of people and their
ways of life across a wide range of African cultures. The folktale
chapter features 10 different stories, including stories about
Kalulu the trickster hare. Finally, there is a section on both
traditional and contemporary legends, including stories of
resistance, adaptation and urban legends. The book is

16 |

abundantly illustrated with photographs both of African art
and also of African people and places.

More from African authors: 6, 8, 9, 11, 18, 51, 64, 69, 70, 71,
72, 74, 86, 96, 97, 109, 112, 113, 116, 132, 134, 139, 140, 141, 143,
144, 148, 149, 150, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 160, 166, 174, 176, 1877,
[189], 193

#190. Tracey, Hugh. The Lion on the Path and Other African
Stories. |llustrated by Eric Byrd. Published in 1968. Pages: 127.
archive.org/details/liononpathothera00O0Otrac

As a young man, Hugh Tracey [1903-1977] emigrated from
England to Zimbabwe, and in 1934 he began working for the
South African Broadcasting Corporation, making over 35,000
recordings as he traveled the continent. He is perhaps most
well known for popularizing the instrument known as the
kalimba. This book includes 25 folktales from southern Africa
with musical transcription, plus illustrations by South African
artist Eric Byrd [1905-1983].

Tracey’s book about the musical arts of the Chopi people of
Mozambique is also available at the Internet Archive — Chopi
Musicians: Their Music, Poetry, and Instruments — and you

can listen to an album of music from eastern Africa that he
produced together with Alan Lomax [1915-2002]: World Library
of Folk Music: British East Africa.

More books with music: 41, 166, 176, [190], 192

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N. Hausa Superstitions and
Customs: An Introduction to the Folk-Lore and the Folk.
Published in 1913. Pages: 548. [This book is in the public
domain; see the Anthology in the back of this book for some

| 117

stories.]
archive.org/details/cu31924026472278

Arthur John Newman Tremearne [1877-1915] was born in
Australia and studied at Cambridge University in England. He
fought in the Boer War and was then posted to western Africa;
he was killed in the Battle of Loos in World War |. During his
time in Nigeria, Tremearne began an intensive study of Hausa
culture. This book contains 100 Hausa folktales in English, with
the Hausa texts appearing separately: Hausa Folk-tales: The
Hausa Text.

You can find Tremearne’s other books at the Internet Archive

also including The Tailed Head-hunters of Nigeria and The

Ban of the Bori: Demons and Demon-dancing in West and

North Africa, plus his memoir, Some Austral-African Notes

and Anecdotes. |n addition to his scholarly Hausa publications,
Tremearne published a book of Hausa stories adapted for
children: Fables and Fairy Tales for Little Folk, or: Uncle

Remus _in_Hausaland, co-authored with his wife, Mary

Tremearne.

More from Nigeria: 8, 30, 51, 57, 58, 59, 67, 86, 151, 152, 153,
156, 17°77, 185, [191], 193, 194

#192. Tucker, Archie. Disappointed Lion and Other Stories
from the Bari of Central Africa. \|lustrated by John Farleigh.
Published in 1937. Pages: 97.
archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.36412

Archie Tucker [1904-1980], born in South Africa, was a linguist
who specialized in African languages, especially the languages
of eastern Africa and the Sudan. This book features 10 stories
that Tucker heard while living in South Sudan in the 1930s, and
his introduction to the stories describes Bari village life during
that time of social and cultural transition. He has retold the

118 |

stories for children (he originally wrote them for a children’s
radio show), and there are musical transcriptions for the songs.
The illustrations are by British artist John Farleigh [1900-1965].

The Internet Archive also has some of Tucker’s scholarly
works, including The Non-Bantu Languages of Northeastern
Africa.

More books with music: 41, 166, 176, 190, [192]

#193. Umeasiegbu, Rems. The Way We Lived: Ibo Customs
and Stories [African Writers series]. Illustrated by Peter
Edwards. Published in 1969. Pages: 139.
archive.org/details/waywelivedibocusOOOOumea

Rems Nnanyelugo Umeasiegbu [b. 1943] is a Nigerian folklorist.

He received his doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania
and went on to teach at universities both in the United States
and in Nigeria. The first part of the book describes traditional
Igbo customs (childbirth, circumcision, marriage, divorce,
funerals, festivals, games, etc.), and the second part features 55
folktales, including stories about the trickster tortoise.

More from African authors: 6, 8, 9, 11, 18, 51, 64, 69, 70, 71,
72, 74, 86, 96, 97, 109, 112, 113, 116, 132, 134, 159, 140, 141, 143,
144, 148, 149, 150, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 160, 166, 174, 176, 1877,
189, [193]

#194. Walker, Barbara and Warren Walker. Nigerian Folk
Tales. ||lustrated by Margaret Barbour. Published in 1961.
Pages: 113.

archive.org/details/nigerianfolktaleOOidew

Barbara Walker [1921-2007] and Warren Walker [1920-2002]
were American folklorists, and in this book they have

| 119

transcribed 37 Yoruba stories told to them by two Nigerian
students studying in the United States: Olawale Idewu was
a medical student from Lagos, and Omotayo Adu, also from
Lagos, was studying chemistry.

Barbara Walker later published another book with an
additional 11 stories told by Olawale Idewu: The Dancing Palm

Tree, and Other Nigerian Folktales, with illustrations by Helen
Siegl [see #66 above]. For Walker’s contribution to a book of
Nkundo stories, see #167 above.

More from Nigeria: 8, 30, 51, 57, 58, 59, 67, 86, 151, 152, 153,
156, 177, 185, 191, 193, [194]

#195. Washington, Donna. A Pride of African Tales. |llustrated
by James Ransome. Published in 2004. Pages: 70.
archive.org/details/prideofafricantaOOwash

Donna Washington [b. 1967] is a storyteller and writer based
in North Carolina. The illustrator, James Ransome [b. 1961], was

born in North Carolina but is now based in New York. In this
book, they have retold 6 traditional African folktales from the
Congo, Nigeria, and Cameroon, beautifully illustrated.

Washington provided the story for How Anansi Obtained
the Sky God’s Stories and The Baboon’s Umbrella [see above,
#178], and she is also the author of two books about Kwanzaa:
Li'l Rabbit’s Kwanzaa and The Story of Kwanzaa.

Ransome has illustrated a wide range of books, including
many on African American themes such as How Animals
Saved the People: Animal Tales From the South by J. J.
Reneaux and Sweet Clara and the Freedom Quilt by Deborah
Hopkinson.

More from African American / Diaspora authors: 14, 15,
32, 37, 38, 39, 44, 46, 79, 83, 100, 102, 124, 145, 181, [195], 199

120 |

#196. Waters, Mary Waterton. Cameos From the Kraal.
lllustrated by a Xhosa artist. Published in 1926. Pages: 58. [This
book is in the public domain.]
archive.org/details/cameosfromkraalwOOwateiala

Mary Waterton Waters [1886-1961] was the daughter and
granddaughter of missionaries in the Cape Colony in South
Africa. In addition to this collection of 12 Xhosa folktales and
anecdotes rendered in English, she was the first white writer to
compose a play in Xhosa: U-Nongqause. From this same era of
South African story collections, you can compare Old Hendrik’s
Tales by Arthur Owen Vaughan from 1904 and Outa karel’s
Stories: South African Folklore Tales by Sanni Metelerkamp

from 1914. Somewhat later, but very much in the same genre,
is Koos, the Hottentot: Tales of the Veld by Josef Marais,
published in 1945.

More from African artists: 18, 69, 70, 71, 74, 81, 96, 112, 118,
134, 139, 160, 164, 187, [196]

#197. Weeks, John. Congo Life and Folklore. Published in 1921.
Pages: 468. [This book is in the public domain; see the
Anthology in the back of this book for some stories.]
archive.org/details/congolifefolklorOO0Oweek

John Weeks [1861-1924] began his missionary work in the
Congo in 1881, remaining there until 1912. During that time he
collected both Bakongo and Boloki folktales; this book contains
4] Bakongo folktales. The first part of the book is a narrative
of “Life on the Congo” that presents a series of 8 stories as
told by storytellers in specific settings with the names of the
storytellers and other details. The second part of the book
contains 33 additional stories, but without any description of

| 121

the storytelling occasion. For Weeks’s Boloki folktales, see his
book Among Congo Cannibals.

One of the Bakongo stories, “How the Sparrow Set the
Elephant and the Crocodile to Pull Against Each Other,”
inspired a children’s book by Edel Wignell: The Mighty
Sparrow: A Trickster Tale of the African Congo.

More from the Congo: 33, 43, 68, 107, 167, [1977]

#198. Werner, Alice. The Mythology of All Races: African.
Published in 1925. Pages: 344. [This book is in the public
domain.]

archive.org/details/mythologyofallra7lgray

Alice Werner [1859-1935] was a scholar of Bantu languages who
first began studying African languages in the 1890s; she later
went on to teach at the School of Oriental Studies in London.
In this groundbreaking study of African mythology, Werner
provides an overview of African gods and goddesses, origin
myths, ancestral spirits, heroes, ogres, animal stories (with
separate chapters on Hare, Tortoise, and Spider), along with
stories of witchcraft.

Werner is the author of other books and articles about
African folklore, including Myths and Legends of the Bantu. In

addition to her scholarly research, she was also a poet; see, for
example, her book A Time and Times: Ballads and Lyrics of
East and West.

More secondary literature: 26, 117, 129, 145, 158, 159, 171,
[198]

122 |

#199. Wilson, Beth. The Great Minu. Illustrated by Jerry
Pinkney. Published in 1974. Pages: 28.
archive.org/details/greatminuOOO0Owils

Beth Wilson [1909-1991] was the second African American
school teacher hired by the Oakland, California school system,
and she taught there until she retired in 1960 and began
publishing children’s books. The story for this book, “Honorable
Minu,” comes from Barker and Sinclair’s book of West African
folktales [see #20 above], and the beautiful illustrations are by
Jerry Pinkney.

In addition to this book, Wilson was the author of several
books on African American themes, including Giants for
Justice: Bethune, Randolph, and King and Martin Luther

King, Jr.

More from Jerry Pinkney: 4, 14, 15, 93, [199]

#200. Winther, Barbara. Plays From African Tales. Published
in 1992. Pages: 145.
archive.org/details/playsfromafricanOOOOwint

Barbara Winther [1926-2018] began writing folktale plays when
she was working as a teacher in California and could not find
any folktale scripts to perform with her students. In this book
you will find 14 plays in script form with production notes,
including stories about Anansi the Spider, ljapa the Tortoise,
and the trickster Hare, plus dilemma tales and fairy tale
adventures. Although the book is copyrighted, the plays are
licensed as free to use for school performances.

You can also find Winther’s Plays from Hispanic Tales and
Plays from Folktales of Asia at the Internet Archive, along with

these other books of scripts inspired by African folktales: The
Reader’s Theatre of Folklore Plays: African, Asian, and Latin-

| 123

American Stories by Henry Gilfond and Plays from African

Folktales by Carol Korty.

More from across Africa: 7, 16, 21, 22, 48, 56, 60, 61, 75, 76,
84, 87, 92, 121, 123, 133, 155, 162, 164, 168, 170, [200]

124 |

ANTHOLOGY

| 125

The Stories

The stories in this Anthology come from books in the public
domain, meaning books no longer copyrighted because they
were published before 1927. As such, these are racist books
from colonial times, written for white audiences, and must be
read with that caution in mind. At the same time, these old
books provide precious written evidence of African storytelling
traditions from a century ago, and those stories in turn connect
us to the many centuries of storytellers who came before.

My hope is that this anthology of stories taken from the
public domain will inspire you to keep on reading and to
explore stories from contemporary sources, especially books by
African and African American writers — books that are just a
click away at the Internet Archive, and also in your local libraries
and local bookstores too.

The stories are arranged in the order of the sources, with
the first part of the story’s number referring to the item in the
Bibliography portion of this book. So, for example, 19-1 here
is the first story in the Anthology, and it comes from item
#19 in the Bibliography portion of this book. I’ve edited the
stories in small ways — trying to use a consistent punctuation
style, resolving ambiguous pronouns, etc. — in order to make
the writing more accessible to today’s readers. There is also
a Notes section following the stories with some additional
commentary. When the stories were illustrated, | have included
the illustrations too.

Contents of the Anthology.

19-1. Ghana. How We Got the Name “Anansi Tales.”
19-2. Ghana. Wisdom and the Human Race.

19-3. Ghana. Thunder and Anansi.

23-4. Uganda. The Flame Tree.

| 127

23-5. Uganda. The Buffalo Maiden.

23-6. Uganda. The Elephant that Wanted to Dance.
24-7. Algeria. The Language of the Beasts.

24-8. Algeria. Half-a-Rooster.

25-9. Zanzibar. The Hare and the Lion.

25-10. Zanzibar. Goso the Teacher.

25-11. Zanzibar. Mkaah Jeechonee, the Boy Hunter.
27-12. Cameroon. How Mafani Earned His Bride.

27-13. Cameroon. How the Turtle Outwitted the Pig.
27-14. South Africa. The Punishment of the Turtle.
35-15. South Africa. Mantis and Will-o-the-Wisp.

35-16. South Africa. Mantis and Aardwolf.

36-17. South Africa. The Rooster’s Kraal.

36-18. South Africa. The Three Little Eggs.

41-19. Mozambique. How the Animals Dug Their Well.
41-20. Mozambique. Death of the Hare.

63-21. Sierra Leone. Cunning Rabbit and His Well.
63-22. Sierra Leone. A Ghost Story.

67-23. Nigeria. The Hunter and His Friends.

67-24. Nigeria. Of the Fat Woman who Melted Away.
67-25. Nigeria. The Leopard, the Squirrel, and the Tortoise.
68-26. Congo. The Spider and Nzambi’s Daughter.
68-27. Congo. A Different Story about Nzambi’s Daughter.
68-28. Congo. The Rabbit and the Antelope.

121-29. Mozambique. Motikatika.

121-30. Zimbabwe. How Isuro the Rabbit Tricked Gudu.
121-31. Lesotho. The Sacred Milk of Koumongoe.

121-32. Lesotho. The Jackal, the Dove, and the Panther.
128-33. Ethiopia. The Lion, the Hyena, and the Fox.
128-34. Ethiopia. How the Fox Followed the Elephant.
128-35. Ethiopia. The Debbi.

130-36. Zanzibar. The Elephant and the Rabbit.

130-37. Zanzibar. The Frog and the Chameleon.
130-38. Zanzibar. The Man and the Sheep.

138-39. South Africa. The Horns of Plenty.

128 |

138-40. South Africa. Tanga, the Child of Night.
138-41. South Africa. The Snake with Five Heads.
147-42. Gabon. The Leopard of the Fine Skin.

147-43. Cameroon. Tortoise in a Race.

147-44. Equatorial Guinea. A Chain of Circumstances.
191-45. Nigeria. The Spider Passes on a Debt.

191-46. Nigeria. The Hyena and the Spider Visit the King.

191-47. Nigeria. The Woman who Bore a Clay Pot.
197-48. Congo. How the Gazelle Won His Wife.
197-49. Congo. How the Fox Saved the Frog’s Life.
197-50. Congo. How the Squirrel Repaid a Kindness.

| 129

1. How We Got the
Name "Anansi Tales"

[From West African Folk-Tales by William Barker and
Cecilia Sinclair, 1917. See item #19 in the Bibliography.

The illustration is by Cecilia Sinclair.]

In the olden days, all the stories which men told were stories
of Onyankopon, the chief of the gods. Anansi, who was very
conceited, wanted the stories to be told about him.

Accordingly, one day he went to Onyankopon and asked that,
in future, all tales told by men might be Anansi stories, instead
of Onyankopon stories. Onyankopon agreed, on one condition.
He told Anansi that he must bring him three things: the first
was a jar full of live bees, the second was a boa-constrictor, and
the third a leopard. Anansi gave his promise.

First, Anansi took an earthen vessel and set out for a place
where he knew were numbers of bees. When he came in sight
of the bees, he began saying to himself, “They will not be able
to fill this jar” — “Yes, they will be able” — “No, they will not be
able,” until the bees came up to him and said, “What are you
talking about, Mr. Anansi?”

He thereupon explained to them that Onyankopon and he
had had a great dispute. Onyankopon had said the bees could
not fly into the jar — Anansi had said they could. The bees
immediately declared that of course they could fly into the jar,
which they at once did. As soon as they were safely inside,
Anansi sealed up the jar and sent it off to Onyankopon.

130 |

THE BEES FLYING INTO THE JAR 30

Next day Anansi took a long stick and set out in search of a
boa-constrictor. When he arrived at the place where one lived,
he began speaking to himself again. “He will just be as long
as this stick” — “No, he will not be so long as this” — “Yes, he
will be as long as this.” These words he repeated several times
till the boa came out and asked him what was the matter.
“Oh, we have been having a dispute in Onyankopon’s town
about you. Onyankopon’s people say you are not as long as this
stick; | say you are. Please let me measure you by it.” The boa
innocently laid himself out straight, and Anansi lost no time in
tying him onto the stick from end to end. He then sent him to
Onyankopon.

The third day Anansi took a needle and thread and sewed
up his eye. He then set out for a den where he knew a leopard
lived. As he approached the place, he began to shout and sing
so loudly that the leopard came out to see what was the
matter. “Can you not see?” said Anansi. “My eye is sewn up and

| 131

now | can see such wonderful things that | must sing about
them.” “Sew up my eyes,” said the leopard, “and then | too
can see these surprising sights.” Anansi immediately did so.
Having thus made the leopard helpless, he led him straight to
Onyankopon’s house.

Onyankopon was amazed at Anansi’s cleverness in fulfilling
the three conditions, and he immediately gave him permission
for the future to call all the old tales Anansi tales.

132 |

2. Wisdom and the
Human Race

[From West African Folk-Tales by William Barker and
Cecilia Sinclair, 1917. See item #19 in the Bibliography.
The illustration is by Cecilia Sinclair.]

There once lived in Fanti-land a man named Father Anansi. He
possessed all the wisdom in the world. People came to him
daily for advice and help.

One day the men of the country were unfortunate enough
to offend Father Anansi, who immediately resolved to punish
them. After much thought, he decided that the severest
penalty he could inflict would be to hide all his wisdom from
them. He set to work at once to gather again all that he had
already given. When he had succeeded, as he thought, in
collecting all the wisdom in the world, he placed it in one great
pot. This he carefully sealed and determined to put it in a spot
where no human being could reach it.

Now Father Anansi had a son whose name was Kweku Tsin.
This boy began to suspect his father of some secret design, so
he made up his mind to watch carefully. Next day he saw his
father quietly slip out of the house with his precious pot hung
round his neck. Kweku Tsin followed.

Father Anansi went through the forest till he had left the
village far behind. Then, selecting the highest and most
inaccessible-looking tree, he began to climb. The heavy pot,
hanging in front of him, made his ascent almost impossible.
Again and again he tried to reach the top of the tree, where
he intended to hang the pot. There, he thought, wisdom would
indeed be beyond the reach of everyone but himself. He was

| 133

unable, however, to carry out his desire. At each trial the pot
swung in his way.

For some time Kweku Tsin watched his father’s vain
attempts. At last, unable to contain himself any longer, he cried
out, “Father, why do you not hang the pot on your back? Then
you could easily climb the tree.”

Father Anansi turned and said, “I thought | had all the world’s
wisdom in this pot. But | find you possess more than | do. All my
wisdom was insufficient to show me what to do, yet you have
been able to tell me.”

In his anger Anansi threw the pot down. It struck on a great
rock and broke. The wisdom contained in it escaped and
spread throughout the world.

134 |

lz,

te,

: WAY vy yi Ny
Ms, ait RR wie ts. dM. * af en |

| 135

3. Thunder and Anansi

[From West African Folk-Tales by William Barker and
Cecilia Sinclair, 1917. See item #19 in the Bibliography.

The illustration is by Cecilia Sinclair.]

There had been a long and severe famine in the land where
Anansi lived. He had been quite unable to obtain food for his
poor wife and family. One day, gazing desperately out to sea,
he saw rising from the midst of the water a tiny island with a
tall palm-tree upon it. He determined to reach this tree — if any
means proved possible — and climb it, in the hope of finding a
few nuts to reward him. How to get there was the difficulty.

This, however, solved itself when he reached the beach, for
there lay the means to his hand in the shape of an old broken
boat. It certainly did not look very strong, but Anansi decided to
try it.

136 |

Anansi’s first six attempts were unsuccessful — a great wave
dashed him back on the beach each time he tried to put off.
He was persevering, however, and at the seventh trial he was
successful in getting away. He steered the battered old boat as
best he could, and at length he reached the palm-tree of his
desire. Having tied the boat to the trunk of the tree — which
grew almost straight out of the water — he climbed toward the
nuts. Plucking all he could reach, he dropped them, one by one,
down to the boat. To his dismay, every one missed the boat and
fell instead into the water until only the last one remained. This
he aimed even more carefully than the others, but it also fell
into the water and disappeared from his hungry eyes. He had
not tasted even one, and now all were gone.

He could not bear the thought of going home empty-
handed, so in his despair he threw himself into the water too.
To his complete astonishment, instead of being drowned, he
found himself standing on the sea-bottom in front of a pretty
little cottage. From the latter came an old man, who asked
Anansi what he wanted so badly that he had come to
Thunder’s cottage to seek it. Anansi told his tale of woe, and
Thunder showed himself most sympathetic. He went into the
cottage and fetched a fine cooking-pot, which he presented
to Anansi — telling him that he need never be hungry again.
The pot would always supply enough food for himself and his
family. Anansi was most grateful and left Thunder with many
thanks.

Being anxious to test the pot at once, Anansi only waited till
he was again seated in the old boat to say, “Pot, pot, what you
used to do for your master, do now for me.” Immediately good
food of all sorts appeared. Anansi ate a hearty meal, which he
very much enjoyed.

On reaching land again, Anansi’s first thought was to run
home and give all his family a good meal from his wonderful
pot. A selfish, greedy fear prevented him. “What if | should use
up all the magic of the pot on them and have nothing more

| 137

left for myself! Better keep the pot a secret — then! can enjoya
meal when | want one.” So, his mind full of this thought, he hid
the pot.

He reached home, pretending to be utterly worn out with
fatigue and hunger. There was not a grain of food to be had
anywhere. His wife and poor children were weak with want of
it, but selfish Anansi took no notice of that. He congratulated
himself at the thought of his magic pot, now safely hidden
in his room. There he retired from time to time when he felt
hungry and enjoyed a good meal. His family got thinner and
thinner, but he grew plumper and plumper.

His family finally began to suspect some secret and
determined to find it out. His eldest son, Kweku Tsin, had the
power of changing himself into any shape he chose, so he took
the form of a tiny fly and accompanied his father everywhere.
At last, Anansi, feeling hungry, entered his room and closed
the door. Next he took the pot and had a fine meal. Having
replaced the pot in its hiding-place, he went out, on the
pretence of looking for food.

As soon as he was Safely out of sight, Kweku Tsin fetched out
the pot and called all his hungry family to come at once. They
had as good a meal as their father had had. When they had
finished, Mrs. Anansi, to punish her husband, said she would
take the pot down to the village and give everybody a meal.
This she did, but alas — in working to prepare so much food
at one time, the pot grew too hot and melted away! What was
to be done now? Anansi would be so angry! His wife forbade
everyone to mention the pot.

Anansi returned, ready for his supper, and, as usual, went into
his room, carefully shutting the door. He went to the hiding-
place — it was empty. He looked around in consternation. No
pot was to be seen anywhere. Someone must have discovered
it. His family must be the culprits; he would find a means to
punish them.

138 |

Saying nothing to anyone about the matter, he waited till
morning. As soon as it was light, he started off towards the
shore where the old boat lay. After he got into the boat, it
started of its own accord and glided swiftly over the water,
straight for the palm-tree. Having arrived there, Anansi
attached the boat as before and climbed the tree. This time,
unlike the last, the nuts practically fell into his hands. When
he aimed them at the boat, they fell easily into it, not one
dropping into the water as before, so he deliberately took them
and threw them overboard, immediately jumping after them.
As before, he found himself in front of Thunder’s cottage, with
Thunder waiting to hear his tale. This he told, and the old man
showed the same sympathy as he had previously done. This
time, however, he presented Anansi with a fine stick and bade
him good-bye.

Anansi could scarcely wait till he got into the boat, so anxious
was he to try the magic properties of his new gift. “Stick, stick,”
he said, “what you used to do for your master, do for me also.”
The stick began to beat him so severely that in a few minutes
he was obliged to jump into the water and swim ashore,
leaving boat and stick to drift away where they pleased. Then
he returned sorrowfully homeward, bemoaning his many
bruises and wishing he had acted more wisely from the
beginning.

| 139

4. The Flame Tree

eA +i ie
int
ir]

La ee
tet ete wu ul ut

fat

HU a
7 '

J |

r
1g

TEE
i

[From The Flame Tree and Other Folk-Lore Stories

from Uganda by Rosetta Baskerville, 1900. See item #23
in the Bibliography. The illustration is by Mrs. E. G.
Morris.]

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in the village
of Si in Kyagwe country. Her parents had no other children, and
as she grew older they saw with Joy that she was more beautiful
every day. People who passed through the village saw her and
spoke of her beauty until everyone in Kyagwe knew that the
most lovely girl in the country lived in the village of Si — and
everyone in the province called her “the Maiden.”

The Maiden was a gentle, sweet child, and she loved all the
animals and birds and butterflies and flowers, and played with
them and knew their language. Her parents were very proud
of her, and they often talked of the time when she should be
grown up and marry a great chief with many cows and gardens
and people, and bring great wealth to her tribe.

When the time came to arrange her marriage, all the chiefs
came and offered many gifts, as the custom of the Baganda is,
but the Maiden said, “I will marry none of these rich chiefs; | will
marry Tutu the peasant boy, who has nothing, because | love
him.” Her parents were very grieved when they heard this and
would have tried to persuade her, but just then a messenger
arrived from the local chief to say that the King of Uganda was
going to war with Mbubi, the Chief of the Buvuma Islands, and
all the chiefs went away to collect their people for the king's
army.

Then the Chief of Si called all his men together, and Tutu the
peasant boy went with them. The army marched down to the
Lake shore to fight the Islanders who came across the blue
waters in a fleet of war canoes, painted and decorated with
horns and feathers and cowry shells and beads. The Maiden
was very sad when she said good-bye to Tutu. “Be very brave

| 141

and win glory,” she said. “Then my father will let me marry you,
for | will never marry anyone else.”

But when the men had marched away and only the women
and children were left in the village with the old people, the
Maiden forgot her brave words and only thought how she
could bring Tutu safely back. She called to her friend the hawk.
“Come and help me, Double-Eye; fly quickly to the Lake shore
and see my peasant boy — tell him | think of him day and night.
| cannot be happy till he returns.”

The hawk knew Tutu well, for often on the hillside he saw how
Tutu had played with the children (the Baganda call the hawk
“Double- Eye,” for they say that with one eye he watches the
Earth and with the other he sees where he is going).

The Baganda reached the Lake, and there was a great battle,
and Tutu the peasant boy was killed by a stone from an
Islander’s sling, but the Baganda rallied and drove the enemy
back to their canoes, and Mbubi beat the retreat drum and his
men returned to Buvuma.

The hawk flies very quickly, and while he was still a long way
off, he saw Tutu lying where he had fallen on the Lake shore.
The soldiers were burying the dead, and the hawk watched to
see where they would bury the peasant boy of Si so that he
might show the Maiden his grave.

Meanwhile, the Maiden waited on the hillside for the hawk’s
return, and the moments seemed like hours. She called to a
bumblebee who was her friend. “Go quickly to the Lake side
and greet my peasant boy; tell him | wait here on the hillside for
his return.”

The bumblebee flew away quickly, and when he reached the
Lake shore, he asked the hawk for news.

“The Islanders have fled in their canoes,” said the hawk, “but
Tutu the peasant boy is dead; a stone from a sling killed him. |
wait to see his grave so that | may show it to the Maiden.”

The bumblebee was afraid to go back with the news, so he
stayed near the hawk and watched.

142 |

The Ocar of Turu

Meanwhile the Maiden waited in a fever of impatience, ever
gazing at the distant Lake while pacing up and down. She
saw a flight of white butterflies playing hide-and-seek round a
mimosa bush and called to them. “Oh, white butterflies, how
can you play when my heart is breaking? Go to the Lake shore
and see if my peasant boy is well.”

So the white butterflies flew away over the green hills to the
Lake and arrived on the battlefield just as the soldiers were
digging Tutu’s grave, and they settled sadly down on a tuft

| 143

of grass, their wings drooping with sorrow, for they loved the
Maiden who had often played with them in the sunshine.

Far away on the Si hills, the Maiden watched in vain for their
return. Filled with fear, she cried to the Sun, “Oh, Chief of the
Cloud Land, help me! Take me on one of your beams to the
Lake shore so that | may see my peasant boy and tell him of my
love.”

The Sun looked down on her with great pity, for he had seen
the battle and knew that Tutu the peasant boy was dead. He
stretched out one of his long beams, and she caught it in her
hands, and he swung her gently round until she rested on the
Lake shore.

When she saw the soldiers lifting Tutu’s body to lay it in the
grave, she cried to the Sun, “Oh, Chief of the Cloud Land, do not
leave me! Burn me with your fire, for how can | live now that my
Love is dead?”

Then the Sun was filled with pity and struck her with a hot
flame, and the soldiers were very sorry for her too, and they dug
a grave for her next to Tutu’s.

And when the people of Si visited the graves the next year,
they found a wonderful thing, for a beautiful tree had grown
out of the graves with large flame-coloured blossoms which
ever turned upwards to the sun, and they took the seeds and
planted them in their gardens. And now the country is full of
these beautiful trees which are called Flame Trees, but the old
people call them Kifabakazi because the stem is as soft as a
woman's heart and a woman can cut it down.

144 |

5. The Buffalo Maiden

[From The Flame Tree and Other Folk-Lore Stories

from Uganda by Rosetta Baskerville, 1900. See item #23
in the Bibliography. The illustration is by Mrs. E. G.
Morris.]

; Mt Mt

IN 1

¥ ~.. Buppalo Marden a4 ©

| 145

There was once a little girl who lived with her uncle and aunt.
Her uncle loved her, but the aunt was always unkind to her.
Now this aunt was really a witch, but no one knew it. One day
she said to her husband, “You must send that little girl away!
| cannot stand her anymore; she is so naughty. But go first to
the Forest to the old wizard who lives there, and he will tell you
what to do.”

So the man went to the Forest, but he did not know that his
wife had told the wizard what to say. The wizard said, “Take the
little girl to the Forest and leave her there.” Then he was sorry
for the man and added, “If you do this, good fortune will come
to the child, but many years must pass.”

Very sadly the man returned home. He took a gourd of milk
and some maize and told his little niece to follow him into the
Forest. When they had walked a long way, they sat down to
rest, and the child was so tired that she fell asleep at once. Then
the uncle put down the gourd of milk and the maize and went
sorrowfully home.

When the child woke, it was very dark in the Forest, and
she was terrified at the sounds round her and feared the wild
animals might come and eat her, but she heard a chirping
voice in the tree above her and saw a large cricket sitting on
a branch just over her head. “Climb up into this tree,” said the
cricket, “and you will find a nice bed to sleep in.”

So the child climbed up into the fork of the tree, and there
was a lovely place full of dry leaves where she cuddled down
and was soon fast asleep again. The next morning she saw that
several buffaloes were resting under her tree and, as she was
very hungry, she thought, “I will go and ask the cow buffalo to
give me some milk.”

The buffaloes were very sorry for the child left all alone in the
Forest, and they said, “You will soon die of hunger here — come
and live in our kraal in the jungle, and you shall have milk every
day and a little hut all of your own.”

146 |

So the little girl climbed on the old cow buffalo’s back, who
was the granny in the herd, and went with her to the kraal
which was hidden away in the thick jungle. At first she was
sad and unhappy and homesick. She wanted her uncle and her
friends in the village at home, and the old granny buffalo could
do nothing to comfort her.

Then the great bull buffalo who ruled the herd called a
Council of Animals together and said, “How can we make this
child happy who has come to live with us in the Forest?”

The animals were much distressed, for they all wanted to
be kind. But the child sat and sobbed, for she was lonely and
homesick.

Just then an old tortoise who had been asleep for many years
woke up and came shuffling into the Council. “The child will be
quite happy if you take away her heart,” he said. “For it is the
heart of a woman that brings all the trouble into the world: if
she cannot love, she will give no trouble; if she has no heart, she
will be quite happy.”

So they cut out the little girl’s heart and tied it up in wild
plantain leaves and hung it up in a cedar tree, and they built
her a hut under the cedar tree, and she settled down happily
and cried no more, and her heart hung far above, out of reach
where no one could touch it.

From that moment, the child changed. At first the buffalo
granny was pleased because she stopped crying and was quiet,
but soon she grew puzzled, for the little girl was so strange.
Every day she did unkind things and laughed when she hurt
the animals. She pushed the little cubs into the Forest pools
when they came to drink, and she climbed up into the trees
and threw little birds that couldn't fly out of their nests, and
when the mothers cried, she laughed at them and clapped her
hands.

There was one animal who had not been at the great bull
buffalo’s Council: the little hare was away at the time on along
journey, but when he returned and the other animals told him

| 147

about it, he looked very grave. The little hare knows more about
people than any other animal, for he often goes to the villages
and he understands men’s language. He watched the little girl,
and every day he grew sadder. Years passed by, and the child
grew up into a beautiful woman, but she had no friends in the
Forest. All the animals were afraid of her; none of them loved
her. If they growled, she stared at them and they slunk off, for
her eyes frightened them.

One day the local chief’s men were hunting buffaloes, and
one of them followed a wounded animal through the jungle
when, to his surprise, he saw a lovely girl come down the Forest
path. When she saw the wounded buffalo, she laughed and
went back, and the man was so frightened that he went back
the way he had come and told the other hunters, and they told
the chief.

Then the chief sent a party of men to the Forest and they
followed the hunter’s trail and came to the buffaloes’ kraal, and
there they saw a beautiful girl milking a buffalo and singing:

lam the Buffalo Maiden;

The Buffalo Kraal is my home;
The Jungle Land is my Kingdom,
Wherever | will | roam.

| hate the golden sunbeams
That fill the glades with light;
| hate the silver moonbeams
That chill my hut at night.

The birds are dumb when they see me;

The animals are my foes;
For lam the Buffalo Maiden,
As all the Jungle knows.

The men were afraid to speak, and they went quietly back.
Then the local chief went to the capital and told all the chiefs in
the King’s Council, and the King and all the Princes heard that
a beautiful girl lived all alone in the depths of the Forest in a
buffalo kraal.

148 |

There was one Prince braver and kinder than the others, and
he was sorry for the girl, so he took one man with him and went
to the Forest to find her. When he found her, he loved her very
much, but the girl only laughed and threw stones at him. Some
of the stones hit him and hurt very much, and every day he
grew more and more miserable.

One day while he was walking in the Forest, he found a doe
with a sharp thorn in her foot. He took the thorn out and carried
the poor tired creature to her home. The doe was very grateful
and said, “Tell me what | can do to thank you.”

And the Prince answered, “Tell me how | can make the girl |
love love me.”

The doe was very sorrowful. “You will never make her love
you; she is unkind and cruel to everyone. But | will ask the other
animals, and perhaps they can give me advice.”

So when the doe’s foot was healed, she went to the big grey
elephant and asked his advice. “Tell your Prince,” said the big
grey elephant, “that the girl is cruel and unkind; he had better
seek a wife in the capital.”

So the doe went to the lion. “If the Prince has been kind to
you, he is much too good for the girl,” he said. “She is hard and
cruel and never sheds tears as the women in the villages do.”

All the animals said the same thing, and at last the doe met
the little hare and told him her trouble. “It isn’t her fault,” said
the hare. “They took her heart away from her when she was a
little girl. How can she be kind without a heart? Let the Prince
steal her heart that hangs in the cedar tree, and then she will
love him.”

So the doe went and told the Prince, “You must steal her
heart which hangs in the cedar tree above her hut, but you
must go alone at night.”

So the Prince went alone through the dark Forest at night
and came to the buffaloes’ kraal. The moonlight was
shimmering through the grey shadows as he picked his way
between the sleeping buffaloes up to the maiden’s hut, and

| 149

there above him in the cedar tree hung the heart. He climbed
the tree and clasped the heart in his arms and, as he did so,
the girl asleep in the hut below felt a great fear. “Someone has
touched my heart,” she cried.

Softly and tremulously she opened the door and saw the
Prince and fell at his feet, sobbing. “Oh, my lord, you have my
heart in your arms. Take me too!” So the Prince took her away
to the capital, and they lived happily together for many years.

The big grey elephant called a Council together, and they
passed sentence on the old tortoise and killed him because his
advice had been bad, for this is the law of the Mabira Forest — if
any animal gives bad advice to the Council, he is killed. And the
Council sent a messenger to the Prince and told him what they
had done. And he was glad, for though the heart of a woman
causes all the trouble in the world, it also brings all the joy, and
a woman's tears are like the spring rains and make the earth
beautiful.

150 |

6. The Elephant that
Wanted to Dance

[From The Flame Tree and Other Folk-Lore Stories

from Uganda by Rosetta Baskerville, 1900. See item #23
in the Bibliography. The illustration is by Mrs. E. G.
Morris.]

Once upon a time, the King of the Animals, the big grey
elephant, gave a great feast and invited all the animals in the
Mabira Forest to come to a beautiful glade that no man had
ever seen, and there they feasted in the moonlight and sang
songs and made jokes and danced. There was one little hare
who danced better than any other animal, and the big grey
elephant said, “Little hare, you are a marvel; you dance like a
sunbeam.”

There was a foolish young elephant at the feast, and he
watched the hare dancing to and fro and up in the air, and
he wished he could dance too. He thought so much about it
that for some days after the feast he was quite ill and did not
sleep at night, and at last his mother asked him, “Have you any
sorrow, my child?”

He did not like to tell even his mother what was worrying
him, but he went off alone to the hare’s house and implored
him to teach him to dance. The hare was very surprised and
did not know what to say at first. He looked at the elephant’s
heavy legs, and he said kindly, “One must begin very young to
dance; you elephants can do so many clever things which the
other animals cannot do. | don’t think it would suit your figure
to dance.”

| 151

So the young elephant went sorrowfully home. When the
other hares heard of his visit, they laughed very much, for who
had ever heard of an elephant dancing?

A week passed, and the young elephant invited the hare to
his house. He gave him a beautiful dinner and then said, “!
must learn to dance. | think of this all day, and | dream of it all
night. You must teach me to dance.”

The hare looked at him in despair. “Your legs are too heavy,”
he said at last. “Your hind legs are much too heavy.” Then he
went home, rather annoyed. Again the elephant sent for him,
but this time the hare would not go. He sent a message, saying,
“If you can get a doctor to cut off some of your heavy flanks so
that you will be lighter on your feet, | will try and teach you to
dance.”

The foolish elephant called in an ape who professed to be a
great doctor, and the ape cut all the flesh off his hind legs until
only the bones were left, and then he sewed the skin up again.
The elephant sent the meat to the hare with a message: “Now
you will see that | am in earnest. When my legs have healed up,
we will begin the dancing lessons.”

The hares laughed and laughed when they got the message,
but they said, “Well, we will have a good feast anyway.” So they
sent for all their relations and had a big dinner of elephant
steak with sem-sem sauce.

A few days afterwards, the elephant sent an antelope with a
message: “I am very ill indeed; my legs do not heal up, and my
doctor thinks he had better sew on the flesh he cut off, so will
you please send it back by the antelope?”

What was to be done? Some of the steak remained left over
from the feast, but they could not send it back for it had been
cooked. The dancing hare said to the antelope, “Stay here and
dine with us, and afterwards we will talk over the business.” He
said this to gain time and think of a plan.

When the antelope tasted the elephant steak, he said, “This
is very good meat. What is it?” And the hare said, “Little rock

152 |

conies that we catch on the hillside; if you like, we will hunt
some before you go home.”

The antelope was delighted and they set off, but the hare
led him to a pit trap, and the antelope fell in and was killed.
When the antelope did not return, the elephant sent a buffalo
with the same message, and the hares played the same trick
on him.

The young elephant was very ill indeed, but when the buffalo
did not return, he made a last effort and sent a crafty old
leopard. None of the Forest animals like the leopards very
much, for they have such bad manners, and the leopard would
not have carried any message for anyone, but he was a little
afraid to refuse the young elephant who was a relation of the
King of the Forest, so, very grumpily, he agreed to go.

The hares were terrified when they saw him coming, and the
old mother hare said, “| suppose we must give him dinner, but
| don’t like it a bit; his table manners are awful.”

The leopard gave the young elephant’s message, sniffing
and snuffling as he spoke and stopping every now and then
to give a little grunt, and the hares kept up their courage all
through dinner, and the dancing hare led him to the trap.

The leopard had seen many traps, and he sniffed suspiciously
round this one. Then he snarled at the hare, “You young villain,”
he cried, “| can see what you have done to the other
messengers.” He turned suddenly round in great anger, all his
teeth bared, and would have caught the dancing hare, but the
hare slipped away and ran down the hillside.

There was a river at the bottom of the hill, and the hare ran
in and out of the papyrus clumps where the leopard could not
follow him, and then the hare let himself down into a water
hole till he was quite wet and ran back again.

Meanwhile, the leopard had lost the scent entirely and was
running up and down the bank, sniffing and grunting. When
he saw the hare so wet that his fur looked like a black rag, he
thought it was some queer creature that lived in the swamp.

| 153

“Little wet animal,” he cried, “have you seen a hare anywhere
about?”

“No,” answered the hare. “They seldom come here; they live
in the Forest.”

“| know that! You are stupid,” said the leopard rudely, and as
the sun was setting and he was very hungry, he hurried back to
tell the elephant his story, but when he arrived near home, he
found much sorrow in the Forest, for the poor foolish elephant
was dead. And though the hares were really very sorry — for
they loved their King, the big grey elephant, whose relation the
young one was — yet they felt it really was his own fault for
being so silly and for believing anything an ape said, for no one
in the Forest who has any sense takes the advice of an ape.

154 |

DANces

TRUE EASE &

Elegance fe owbichin.

+ : W VAIN

Whe Elephant strives to emulate xx «

| 155

7. The Language of the
Beasts

156 |

[From Moorish Literature by René Basset, 1901. See item

#24 in the Bibliography. The 18th-century illustration of
a jerboa is from the Wellcome Trust at Wikimedia
Commons]

Once upon a time there was a man who had much goods.
One day he went to market. There came a greyhound, which
ate some meat. The butcher gave it a blow, which made it
yelp. Seeing this, the heart of the man was touched with
compassion. He bought of the butcher half a piece of meat and
flung it to the greyhound. The dog took it and went away. The
dog was the son of the king of the netherworld!

Later, Fortune changed for the man. He lost all his
possessions and began to wash for people. One day, he had
gone to wash something; he stretched it on the sand to dry. A
jerboa appeared with a ring in its ear. The man ran after it, killed
it, hid the ring, made a fire, cooked the jerboa, and ate it.

A woman came out of the earth, seized him, and demanded,
“Haven't you seen my son, with an ear-ring?”

“| haven’t seen anybody,” he answered, “but | saw a jerboa
which had a ring in its ear.”

“It is my son.” She drew the man under the earth and told
him, “You have eaten my son; you have separated me from him.
Now | will separate you from your children, and you shall work
in the place of my son.”

The son of the king of the netherworld who had been
changed into a greyhound saw this man that day in the
netherworld and said to him, “Is it you who bought some meat
for a greyhound and threw it to him?”

“It is 1.”

“lam that greyhound. Who brought you here?”

“A woman,” answered the man, and he recounted all his
adventure.

“Go and make a complaint to the king,” answered the other. “I
am his son. Ill tell him, ‘This man did me a good service.’ When

| 157

he asks you to go to the treasure and take as much money as
you wish, answer him, ‘| don’t want any. | only want you to spit a
benediction into my mouth.’ If he asks you, ‘Who told you that?’
answer, ‘Nobody told me.”

The man went and found the king and complained of the
woman. The king called her and asked her, “Why have you
taken this man captive?”

“He ate my son.”

“Why was your son metamorphosed into a jerboa? When
men see one of those animals, they kill it and eat it.” Then,
addressing the man, he said, “Give her back the ear-ring.” The
man gave it to her.

“Go,” said the king to the woman. “Take this man to the place
from which you brought him.”

The son of the king then said to his father, “This man did me
a favor; you ought to reward him.”

The king said to him, “Go to the treasure; take as much
money as you can.”

“| don’t want money,” the man answered. “I want you to spit
into my mouth a benediction.”

“Who told you that?”

“Nobody told me.”

“You will not be able to bear it.”

“Twill be able.”

“When | have spat into your mouth, you will understand the
language of beasts and birds; you will know what they say
when they speak. But if you reveal it to the people, you will die.”

“Twill not reveal it.”

So the king spat into the man’s mouth and sent him away,
saying to the woman, “Go and take him back where you found
him.” She departed and took him back there.

The man mounted his donkey and came back to his house.
He unloaded the donkey and took back to the people the linen
he had washed. Then he remounted the beast to go and seek
some earth. He was going to dig when he heard a crow Say in

158 |

the air, “Dig beneath; you will sing when God has made you
rich.”

He understood what the crow said, dug beneath, and found
a treasure. He filled a basket with it. On the top he put a little
earth and went home, but he often returned to the spot.

On one of these occasions, his donkey met a mule, which
said, “Are you still working?”

The donkey replied, “My master has found a treasure, and he
is taking It away.”

The mule answered, “When you are in a crowd, balk and
throw the basket to the ground. People will see it, all will be
discovered, and your master will leave you in peace.”

The man had heard every word of this. He filled his basket
with earth only. When they arrived at a crowd of people, the
donkey kicked and threw the load to the ground. Her master
beat her till she had enough.

The man applied himself to gathering the treasure and
became a rich merchant.

He had at home some chickens and a dog. One day he went
into the granary, and a hen followed him and ate the grain. A
rooster said to her, “Bring me a little.”

She answered, “Eat for yourself.”

The master began to laugh.

His wife asked him, “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

“You are laughing at me.”

“Not at all.”

“You must tell me what you are laughing at.”

“If 1 tell you, | shall die.”

“You shall tell me, and you shall die.”

“Tonight.”

He brought out some grain and said to his wife, “Give alms.”
He invited the people, bade them eat, and when they had
gone, he brought food to the dog, but the dog would not eat.

| 159

The neighbor's dog came, as it did every day, to eat with this
dog. Today it found the food intact.

“Come and eat,” the neighbor's dog said.

“No,” the dog answered.

“Why not?”

Then the dog told the other, “My master, hearing the
chickens talk, began to laugh. His wife asked him, ‘Why are you
laughing?’ ‘If | tell you, | shall die, he said. She said, ‘Tell me
and die.’ That is why,” continued the dog, “he has given alms,
for when he reveals his secret, he will die, and | shall never find
anyone to treat me as well as he has.”

The other dog replied, “As he knows our language, | tell him
this: let him take a stick and give it to his wife until she has
had enough. As he beats her, let him say, ‘This is what | was
laughing at. This is what | was laughing at. This is what | was
laughing at,’ until she says to him, ‘Reveal to me nothing.”

The man heard the conversation of the dogs and went and
got a stick. When his wife and he went to bed, she said to him,
“Tell me now what you were laughing at.”

Then he took the stick and beat her, saying, “This is what |
was laughing at. This is what | was laughing at. This is what |
was laughing at,” until she cried out, “Don’t tell it to me. Don't
tell it to me. Don’t tell it to me.”

He left her alone. When the dogs heard, they rejoiced, ran out
on the terrace, played, and ate their food.

From that day the wife never again said to her husband, “Tell
me that!” They lived happy ever after.

If | have omitted anything, may God forgive me for it.

160 |

8. Half-a-Rooster

[From Moorish Literature by René Basset, 1901. See item
#24 in the Bibliography.]

In times past, there was a man who had two wives, and one was
wise and one was foolish. They owned a rooster in common.
One day they quarreled about the rooster, cut it in two, and
each took half. The foolish wife cooked her part. The wise one
let her part live, and he walked on one foot and had only one
wing.

Some days passed thus; then Half-a-Rooster got up early and
started on his pilgrimage. At the middle of the day he was tired
and went toward a brook to rest. A jackal came there to drink.
Half-a-Rooster jumped on the jackal’s back, stole one of his
hairs, which he put under his wing, and resumed his journey.
He proceeded until evening and stopped under a tree to pass
the night there.

He had not rested long when he saw a lion pass near the
tree where he was lying. As soon as he perceived the lion, he
jumped on his back and stole one of his hairs, which he put
with the hair of the jackal.

The next morning he got up early and took up his journey
again. Having arrived at the middle of a forest, he met a boar
and said, “Give me a hair from your back, as the king of the
animals and the trickiest of the animals have done — the Jackal
and the lion.”

The boar answered, “As these two personages so important
among the animals have done this, | will also give you what you
request.” He plucked a hair from his back and gave it to Half-
a-Rooster. The latter went on his way and arrived at the palace
of a king. He began to crow and to say, “Tomorrow the King will
die, and | will take his wife.”

| 16]

Hearing these words, the King gave to his servants the
command to seize Half-a-Rooster and cast him into the middle
of the pen of the sheep and goats to be trampled upon and
killed by them so that the King might get rid of his crowing. The
servants seized him and cast him into the pen to perish.

When he landed there, Half-a-Rooster took from under his
wing the jackal’s hair, preparing to burn it in the fire. As soon as
the hair was near the fire, the Jackal came and said, “Why are
you burning my hair? As soon as | smelled it, | came running.”

Half-a-Rooster replied, “You see what situation | am in. Get
me out of it.”

“That is an easy thing,” said the jackal, and immediately he
yowled in order to summon his brothers. The jackals gathered
around him, and he gave them this command: “My brothers,
save me from Half-a-Rooster, for he has a hair from my back
which he has put in the fire. | don’t want to burn. Take Half-
a-Rooster out of the pen, and you will be able to take my hair
from his hands.” At once the jackals rushed to the pen,
strangled everything that was there, and rescued Half-a-
Rooster.

The next day the King found his stables deserted and his
animals killed. He sought for Half-a-Rooster, but in vain. The
next day at the supper hour, Half-a-Rooster began to crow as
he did the first time. The King called his servants and said to
them, “Seize Half-a-Rooster and cast him into the cattle-yard so
that he may be crushed under the cattle’s feet.”

The servants caught Half-a-Rooster and threw him into the
middle of the cow-pen. As soon as he landed there, he took the
lion’s hair and put it into the fire. The lion came, roaring, and
said, “Why do you burn my hair? | smelled from my cave the
odor of burning hair and came running to learn the motive of
your action.”

Half-a-Rooster answered, “You see my situation. Help me out
of it.”

162 |

The lion went out and roared to call his brothers. They came
in great haste and said to him, “Why do you call us now?”

“Take Half-a-Rooster from the cattle-yard, for he has one of
my hairs which he can put into the fire. If you don’t rescue Half-
a-Rooster, he will burn the hair, and | don’t want to smell the
odor of burning hair while | am alive.”

His brothers obeyed. They at once killed all the cattle in the
pen. The King saw that his animals were all dead, and he fell
into such a rage that he nearly choked to death. He looked for
Half-a-Rooster to kill him with his own hands. He searched a
long time without finding him and finally went home to rest.

At sunset Half-a-Rooster came to his usual place and crowed
as on the former occasions. The King called his servants and
said to them, “This time when you have caught Half-a-Rooster,
put him in a house and shut all the doors till morning. | will kill
him myself.”

The servants seized Half-a-Rooster immediately and put him
in the treasure-room. When he landed there, he saw money
under his feet. He waited till he had nothing to fear from the
masters of the house, who were all sound asleep, and then he
took from under his wing the hair of the boar, started a fire, and
placed the hair in it. At once the boar came running, shaking
the earth. He thrust his head against the wall. The wall shook
and half of it fell down and, going to Half-a-Rooster, the boar
said, “Why are you burning my hair at this moment?”

“Pardon me; you see the situation in which | am, without
counting what awaits me in the morning, for the King is going
to kill me with his own hands if you don’t get me out of this
prison.”

The boar replied, “The thing is easy; fear not. | will open the
door so that you may go out. In fact, you have stayed here long
enough. Get up; go and take money, enough for you and your
children.”

Half-a-Rooster obeyed. He rolled in the gold, took all that
stuck to his wing and his foot, and swallowed as much as he

| 163

could hold. He took the road he had followed the first day, and
when he had arrived near the house, he called the mistress
and said, “Strike now; be not afraid to kill me.” His mistress
began to strike until Half-a-Rooster called from beneath the
mat, “Enough now. Roll up the mat.”

She obeyed and saw the earth beneath the mat all shining
with gold.

At the time when Half-a-Rooster returned from. his
pilgrimage, the two women owned a dog in common. The
foolish one, seeing that her companion had received much
money, said to her, “We will divide the dog between us.”

The wise woman answered, “We can’t do anything with the
dog. Let her live; | will give you my half. Keep her for yourself. |
have no need of her.”

The foolish one said to the dog, “Go on a pilgrimage as Half-
a-Rooster did and bring me some gold.”

The dog started to carry out the commands of her mistress.
She began her journey in the morning and came to a fountain.
As she was thirsty, she started to drink. As she stopped, she saw
in the middle of the fountain a yellow stone. She took it in her
mouth and ran back home. When she reached the house, she
called her mistress and said to her, “Get ready the mats and the
rods; you see that | have come back from the pilgrimage.”

The foolish woman prepared the mats under which the dog
ran as soon as she heard the voice of her mistress; then the
dog said, “Strike gently.” The woman seized the rods and struck
with all the force possible. The dog cried out to her a long while
for her to stop the blows. Her mistress refused to stop until the
animal was cold. She lifted up the mats and found the dog
dead, with the yellow stone in its mouth.

164 |

as Ee Seeing ei

GEORGE W- BATEMAN “| =:
~aeN s
; CHICAGO if
A.C. Mf CLURG & CO.

19 01.

| 165

* Sahl

iy,
ieee

Srey, en Se vy we

BSNS

et hile 24:

Bookoo and the hare started off immediately.

9. The Hare and the
Lion

[From Zanzibar Tales Told by Natives of the East Coast

of Africa by George Bateman, 1901. See item #25 in the
Bibliography. The illustrations are by Walter Bobbett.]

One day Soongoora, the hare, roaming through the forest in
search of food, glanced up through the boughs of a very large
calabash tree and saw that a great hole in the upper part of the
trunk was inhabited by bees; thereupon he returned to town in
search of someone to go with him and help to get the honey.

As he was passing the house of Bookoo, the big rat, that
worthy gentleman invited him in. So the hare went in, sat
down, and remarked, “My father has died and has left me a hive
of honey. | would like you to come and help me to eat it.”

Of course Bookoo jumped at the offer, and he and the hare
started off immediately.

When they arrived at the great calabash tree, Soongoora
pointed out the bees’ nest and said, “Go on; climb up.” So,
taking some straw with them, they climbed up to the nest, lit
the straw, smoked out the bees, put out the fire, and set to
work eating the honey.

In the midst of the feast, who should appear at the foot of the
tree but Simba, the lion! Looking up and seeing them eating,
he asked, “Who are you?”

Then Soongoora whispered to Bookoo, “Hold your tongue;
that old fellow is crazy.”

But in a very little while Simba roared out angrily, “I say, who
are you? Speak, | tell you!”

This made Bookoo so scared that he blurted out, “It’s only us!”

| 167

Upon this the hare said to him, “You just wrap me up in this
straw, call to the lion to keep out of the way, and then throw me
down. Then you'll see what will happen.”

So Bookoo the big rat wrapped Soongoora the hare in the
straw, and then called to Simba the lion, “Stand back; I’m going
to throw this straw down, and then I'll come down myself.”
When Simba stepped back out of the way, Bookoo threw down
the straw, and as it lay on the ground, Soongoora crept out and
ran away while the lion was looking up.

I'm going to throw this
straw down, and then
I'll come down myself.”

Soongoora crept out aod ran away
while the lho waa Jooklog op.

When Simba stepped back iad
out of the way, Bookoo i

168 |

After waiting a minute or two, Simba roared out, “Well, come

down, | say!” and, there being no help for it, the big rat came
down.

As soon as he was within reach, the lion caught hold of him
and asked, “Who was up there with you?”

“Why,” said Bookoo, “Soongoora the hare! Didn’t you see him
when | threw him down?”

“Of course | didn’t see him,” replied the lion in an incredulous
tone, and, without wasting further time, he ate the big rat and
then searched around for the hare but could not find him.

Three days later, Soongoora called on his acquaintance
Kobay, the tortoise, and said to him, “Let us go and eat some
honey.”

“Whose honey?” inquired Kobay, cautiously.

“My father’s,” Soongoora replied.

“Oh, alright; I’m with you,” said the tortoise eagerly, and away
they went.

When they arrived at the great calabash tree, they climbed
up with their straw, smoked out the bees, sat down, and began
to eat.

Just then Mr. Simba, who owned the honey, came out again
and, looking up, inquired, “Who are you up there?”

Soongoora whispered to Kobay, “Keep quiet,” but when the
lion repeated his question angrily, Kobay became suspicious
and said, “I will soeak. You told me this honey was yours; am |
right in suspecting that it belongs to Simba?”

So, when the lion asked again, “Who are you?” Kobay
answered, “It’s only us.” The lion said, “Come down then!” and
the tortoise answered, “We're coming.”

Now Simba had been keeping an eye open for Soongoora
since the day he caught Bookoo the big rat and, suspecting
that Soongoora was up there with Kobay, he said to himself,
“I’ve got him this time for sure.”

Seeing that they were caught again, Soongoora said to the
tortoise, “Wrap me up in the straw, tell Simba to stand out of

| 169

the way, and then throw me dowrn. I'll wait for you below. He
can’t hurt you, you know.”

“Alright,” said Kobay but, while he was wrapping the hare up,
he said to himself, “This fellow wants to run away and leave me
to bear the lion’s anger. He shall get caught first.” Therefore,
when Kobay had bundled the hare up, he called out,
“Soongoora is coming!” and threw him down.

So Simba caught the hare and, holding him with his paw, he
said, “Now what shall | do with you?”

The hare replied, “It’s of no use for you to try to eat me; I’m
awfully tough.”

“What would be the best thing to do with you then?” asked
Simba.

“I think,” said Soongoora, “you should take me by the tail,
whirl me around, and knock me against the ground. Then you
may be able to eat me.”

So the lion, being deceived, took the hare by the tail and
whirled him around, but just as he was going to knock him on
the ground, the hare slipped out of his grasp and ran away, and
Simba had the mortification of losing Soongoora again.

Angry and disappointed, he turned to the tree and called to
Kobay, “You come down too.”

When the tortoise reached the ground, the lion said, “You're
pretty hard; what can | do to make you eatable?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” laughed Kobay. “Just put me in the mud and
rub my back with your paw until my shell comes off.”

Immediately on hearing this, Simba carried Kobay to the
water, placed him in the mud, and began to rub his back,
or so he thought, but the tortoise had slipped away, and the
lion continued rubbing on a piece of rock until his paws were
raw. When he glanced down at them, he saw his paws were
bleeding and, realizing that he had again been outwitted, he
said, “Well, the hare has done me today, but I'll go hunting now
until | find him.”

170 |

The lion continued rubbing on a piece of rock.

So Simba the lion set out immediately in search of Soongoora
the hare and, as he went along, he inquired of everyone he met,
“Where is the house of Soongoora?” But each person he asked
answered, “| do not know,” for the hare had said to his wife,
“Let us remove from this house.” Therefore the folks in that
neighborhood had no knowledge of his whereabouts. Simba,
however, went along, continuing his inquiries, until presently
one answered, “That is his house on the top of the mountain.”

Without loss of time, the lion climbed the mountain and
soon arrived at the place indicated, only to find that there was
no one at home. This, however, did not trouble him; on the

| 171

contrary, saying to himself, “l’ll hide myself inside, and when
Soongoora and his wife come home, I'll eat them both,” he
entered the house and lay down, awaiting their arrival.

Pretty soon along came the hare with his wife, not thinking of
any danger, but the hare very soon discovered the marks of the
lion’s paws on the steep path. Stopping at once, he said to Mrs.
Soongoora, “You go back, my dear. Simba the lion has passed
this way, and | think he must be looking for me.”

But she replied, “l will not go back; | will follow you, my
husband.”

Although greatly pleased at this proof of his wife’s affection,
Soongoora said firmly, “No, no! You have friends to go to. Go
back.”

So he persuaded her, and she went back, but he kept on,
following the footmarks, and saw — as he had suspected —
that they went into his house.

“Ah!” said he to himself. “Mr. Lion is inside, is he?” Then,
cautiously going back a little way, he called out, “How d’ye do,
house? How d’ye do?” Waiting a moment, he remarked loudly,
“Well, this is very strange! Every day, as | pass this place, | say,
‘How d’ye do, house?’ and the house always answers, ‘How d’ye
do?’ There must be someone inside today.”

When the lion heard this, he called out, “How d’ye do?”

Then Soongoora burst out laughing and shouted, “Oho, Mr.
Simba! You're inside, and I'll bet you want to eat me, but first
tell me where you ever heard of a house talking!”

Upon this, the lion, seeing how he had been fooled, replied
angrily, “You wait until | get hold of you; that’s all.”

“Oh, | think you'll have to do the waiting,” cried the hare, and
then he ran away, the lion following.

But it was of no use. Soongoora completely tired out old
Simba, who, saying, “That rascal has beaten me; | don’t want
to have anything more to do with him,” returned to his home
under the great calabash tree.

172 |

10. Goso the Teacher

[From Zanzibar Tales Told by Natives of the East Coast

of Africa by George Bateman, 1901. See item #25 in the
Bibliography. The illustrations are by Walter Bobbett.]

Once there was a man named Goso who taught children to
read, not in a schoolhouse but under a calabash tree. One
evening, while Goso was sitting under the tree deep in the
study of the next day’s lessons, Paa the gazelle climbed up the
tree very quietly to steal some fruit and, in so doing, he shook
off a calabash, which, as it fell, struck Goso the teacher on the
head and killed him.

When Goso's scholars came in the morning and found their
teacher lying dead, they were filled with grief; so, after giving
him a decent burial, they agreed among themselves to find the
one who had killed Goso and put him to death.

After talking the matter over, they came to the conclusion
that the south wind was the offender. So they caught the south
wind and beat it. But the south wind cried, “Here! | arm Koosee,
the south wind. Why are you beating me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Koosee; it was you who
threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You
should not have done it.”

But Koosee said, “If | were so powerful, would | be stopped by
a mud wall?”

So they went to the mud wall and beat it. But the mud wall
cried, “Here! | am Keeyambaaza, the mud wall. Why are you
beating me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Keeyambaaza; it was
you who stopped Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south
wind threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso.
You should not have done it.”

| 173

But Keeyambaaza said, “If | were so powerful, would | be
bored through by the rat?”

So they went and caught the rat and beat it. But the rat cried,
“Here! | am Paanya the rat. Why are you beating me? What
have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Paanya; it was you who
bored through Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped
Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south wind threw
down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should
not have done it.”

But Paanya said, “If | were so powerful, would | be eaten by a
cat?”

So they hunted for the cat, caught it, and beat it. But the cat
cried, “Here! | am Paaka the cat. Why do you beat me? What
have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Paaka; it is you who eats
Paanya the rat, who bores through Keeyambaaza the mud wall,
which stopped Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south
wind threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso.
You should not have done it.”

But Paaka said, “If | were so powerful, would | be tied by a
rope?”

So they took the rope and beat it. But the rope cried, “Here!
| am Kaamba the rope. Why do you beat me? What have |
done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Kaamba; it is you that
ties Paaka the cat, who eats Paanya the rat, who bores through
Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped Koosee the south
wind, and Koosee the south wind threw down the calabash
that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”

But Kaamba said, “If | were so powerful, would | be cut by a
knife?”

So they took the knife and beat it. But the knife cried, “Here! |
am Keesoo the knife. Why do you beat me? What have | done?”

174 |

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Keesoo; you cut Kaamba
the rope, that ties Paaka the cat, who eats Paanya the rat,
who bores through Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped
Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south wind threw
down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should
not have done it.”

But Keesoo said, “If | were so powerful, would | be burned by
the fire?”

And they went and beat the fire. But the fire cried, “Here! |
am Moto the fire. Why do you beat me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Moto; you burn Keesoo
the knife, that cuts Kaamba the rope, that ties Paaka the cat,
who eats Paanya the rat, who bores through Keeyambaaza the
mud wall, which stopped Koosee the south wind, and Koosee
the south wind threw down the calabash that struck our
teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”

But Moto said, “If | were so powerful, would | be put out by
water?”

And they went to the water and beat it. But the water cried,
“Here! | am Maajee the water. Why do you beat me? What have
| done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Maajee; you put out
Moto the fire, that burns Keesoo the knife, that cuts Kaamba
the rope, that ties Paaka the cat, who eats Paanya the rat,
who bores through Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped
Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south wind threw
down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should
not have done it.”

But Maajee said, “If | were so powerful, would | be drunk by
the ox?”

And they went to the ox and beat it. But the ox cried, “Here! |
am Ngombay the ox. Why do you beat me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Ngombay; you drink
Maajee the water, that puts out Moto the fire, that burns
Keesoo the knife, that cuts Kaamba the rope, that ties Paaka

| 175

the cat, who eats Paanya the rat, who bores through
Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped Koosee the south
wind, and Koosee the south wind threw down the calabash
that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”

But Ngombay said, “If | were so powerful, would | be
tormented by the fly?”

And they caught the fly and beat it. But the fly cried, “Here! |
am Eenzee the fly. Why do you beat me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Eenzee; you torment
Ngombay the ox, who drinks Maajee the water, that puts out
Moto the fire, that burns Keesoo the knife, that cuts Kaamba
the rope, that ties Paaka the cat, who eats Paanya the rat,
who bores through Keeyambaaza the mud wall, which stopped
Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south wind threw
down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should
not have done it.”

But Eenzee said, “If | were so powerful, would | be eaten by
the gazelle?”

And they searched for the gazelle, and when they found it,
they beat it. But the gazelle said, “Here! | am Paa the gazelle.
Why do you beat me? What have | done?”

And they said, “Yes, we know you are Paa; you eat Eenzee
the fly, who torments Ngombay the ox, who drinks Maajee the
water, that puts out Moto the fire, that burns Keesoo the knife,
that cuts Kaamba the rope, that ties Paaka the cat, who eats
Paanya the rat, who bores through Keeyambaaza the mud wall,
which stopped Koosee the south wind, and Koosee the south
wind threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso.
You should not have done it.”

The gazelle, through surprise at being found out and fear of
the consequences of his accidental killing of the teacher while
engaged in stealing, was struck dumb.

Then the scholars said, “Ah! He hasn't a word to say for
himself. This is the fellow who threw down the calabash that
struck our teacher Goso. We will kill him.”

176 |

So they killed Paa the gazelle, and avenged the death of their

teacher.

| 177

11. Mkaah Jeechonee,
the Boy Hunter

[From Zanzibar Tales Told by Natives of the East Coast

of Africa by George Bateman, 1901. See item #25 in the

Bibliography. The illustrations are by Walter Bobbett.]

178 |

Sultan Maajnoon had seven sons and a big cat, of all of whom
he was very proud. Everything went well until one day the cat
went and caught a calf. When they told the sultan, he said,
“Well, the cat is mine, and the calf is mine.” So they said, “Oh,
alright, master,” and let the matter drop.

A few days later the cat caught a goat, and when they told
the sultan, he said, “The cat is mine, and the goat is mine,” and
so that settled it again.

Two days more passed, and the cat caught a cow. They told
the sultan, and he shut them up with “My cat, and my cow.”
After another two days, the cat caught a donkey; same result.
Next it caught a horse; same result. The next victim was a
camel, and when they told the sultan, he said, “What’s the
matter with you folks? It was my cat, and my camel. | believe
you don't like my cat and want it killed, bringing me tales about
it every day. Let it eat whatever it wants to.”

In a very short time the cat caught a child and then a full-
grown man, but each time the sultan remarked that both the
cat and its victim were his, and he thought no more of it.

Meantime the cat grew bolder and hung around a low, open
place near the town, pouncing on people going for water or
animals out at pasture, and eating them. At last some of the
people plucked up courage and, going to the sultan, they said,
“How is this, master? As you are our sultan, you are our
protector — or ought to be — yet you have allowed this cat to
do as it pleases, and now it lives just out of town there and kills
everything living that goes that way, while at night it comes
into town and does the same thing. Now what on earth are we
to do?”

But Maajnoon only replied, “I really believe you hate my cat.
| suppose you want me to kill it, but | shall do no such thing.
Everything it eats is mine.”

Of course the folks were astonished at this result of the
interview and, as no one dared to kill the cat, they all had to
remove from the vicinity where it lived.

| 179

But this did not mend matters because, when the cat found
no one came that way, it shifted its quarters likewise. So
complaints continued to pour in until at last Sultan Maajnoon
gave orders that if anyone came to make accusations against
the cat, he was to be informed that the master could not be
seen.

When things got so that people neither let their animals out
nor went out themselves, the cat went farther into the country,
killing and eating cattle and fowls and everything that came its
way.

One day the sultan said to six of his sons, “I’m going to look at
the country today; come along with me.”

The seventh son was considered too young to go around
anywhere and was always left at home with the womenfolk,
being called by his brothers Mkaah Jeechonee, which means
Mr. Sit-in-the-Kitchen.

Well, they went and presently came to a thicket. The father
was in front and the six sons following him when the cat
jumped out and killed three of the sons. The attendants
shouted, “The cat! The cat!” and the soldiers asked permission
to search for and kill it, which the sultan readily granted, saying,
“This is not a cat; it is a Noondah. It has taken from me my own
sons.”

Now, nobody had ever seen a Noondah, but they all knew it
was a terrible beast that could kill and eat all other living things.
When the sultan began to bemoan the loss of his sons, some of
those who heard him said, “Ah, master, this Noondah does not
select his prey. He doesn't say, ‘This is my master’s son; I'll leave
him alone’ or ‘This is my master’s wife; | won't eat her.’ When we
told you what the cat had done, you always said it was your cat
and what it ate was yours, and now it has killed your sons, and
we don't believe it would hesitate to eat even you.”

And the sultan said, “I fear you are right.”

180 |

As for the soldiers who tried to get the cat, some were killed
and the remainder ran away, and the sultan and his living sons
took the dead bodies home and buried them.

Now when Mkaah Jeechonee, the seventh son, heard that his
brothers had been killed by the Noondah, he said to his mother,
“I too will go so that it may kill me as well as my brothers, or |
will kill it.”

But his mother said, “My son, | do not like to have you go.
Those three are already dead, and if you are killed also, will not
that be one wound upon another to my heart?”

“Nevertheless,” said he, “I cannot help going, but do not tell
my father.” So his mother made him some cakes and sent
some attendants with him, and he took a great spear as sharp
as a razor and a sword, bade her farewell, and departed.

As he had always been left at home, he had no very clear idea
what he was going to hunt for, so he had not gone far beyond
the suburbs when, seeing a very large dog, he concluded that
this was the animal he was after, so he killed it, tied a rope to
it, and dragged it home, singing, “Oh, mother, | have killed the
Noondah, eater of the people.”

When his mother, who was upstairs, heard him, she looked
out of the window and, seeing what he had brought, she said,
“My son, this is not the Noondah, eater of the people.” So he
left the dog’s carcass outside and went in to talk about it, and
his mother said, “My dear boy, the Noondah is a much larger
animal than that, but if | were you, I’d give the business up and
stay at home.” “No indeed,” he exclaimed, “no staying at home
for me until | have met and fought the Noondah.”

So he set out again and went a great deal farther than he
had gone on the former day. Presently he saw a civet cat and,
believing it to be the animal he was in search of, he killed it,
bound it, and dragged it home, singing, “Oh, mother, | have
killed the Noondah, eater of the people.” When his mother saw
the civet cat, she said, “My son, this is not the Noondah, eater of
the people.” And he threw the civet cat away. Again his mother

| 181

entreated him to stay at home, but he would not listen to her
and started off again.

This time he went away off into the forest and, seeing a
bigger wild cat than the last one, he killed it, bound it, and
dragged it home, singing, “Oh, mother, | have killed the
Noondah, eater of the people.” But directly his mother saw it,
she had to tell him as before, “My son, this is not the Noondah,
eater of the people.” He was, of course, very much troubled at
this, and his mother said, “Now where do you expect to find this
Noondah? You don’t know where it is, and you don’t know what
it looks like. You'll get sick over this; you’re not looking so well
now as you did. Come, stay at home.” But he said, “There are
three things, one of which | shall do: | shall die, | shall find the
Noondah and kill it, or | shall return home unsuccessful. In any
case, I’m off again.”

This time he went farther than before, saw a zebra, killed it,
bound it, and dragged it home, singing, “Oh, mother, | have
killed the Noondah, eater of the people.” Of course his mother
had to tell him once again, “My son, this is not the Noondah,
eater of the people.”

After a good deal of argument, in which his mother’s
persuasion, as usual, was of no avail, he went off again, going
farther than ever, where he caught a giraffe, and when he
had killed it, he said, “Well, this time I’ve been successful. This
must be the Noondah.” So he dragged it home, singing, “Oh,
mother, | have killed the Noondah, eater of the people.” Again
his mother had to assure him, “My son, this is not the Noondah,
eater of the people.” She then pointed out to him that his
brothers were not running about hunting for the Noondah, but
staying at home attending to their own business.

But, remarking that all brothers were not alike, he expressed
his determination to stick to his task until it came to a
successful termination, and he went off again, a still greater
distance than before. While going through the wilderness, he
espied a rhinoceros asleep under a tree and, turning to his

182 |

attendants, he exclaimed, “At last | see the Noondah.” “Where,
master?” they all cried, eagerly. “There, under the tree.” “Oh-h!
What shall we do?” they asked. And he answered, “First of all,
let us eat our fill; then we will attack it. We have found it in a
good place, though if it kills us, we can’t help it.” So they all took
out their arrowroot cakes and ate till they were satisfied. Then
Mkaah Jeechonee said, “Each of you take two guns; lay one
beside you and take the other in your hands, and at the proper
time let us all fire at once.” And they said, “Alright, master.”

So they crept cautiously through the bushes and got around
to the other side of the tree, at the back of the rhinoceros; then
they closed up till they were quite near it, and all fired together.
The beast jumped up, ran a little way, and then fell down dead.
They bound it and dragged it for two whole days until they
reached the town, when Mkaah Jeechonee began singing, “Oh,
mother, | have killed the Noondah, eater of the people.” But he
received the same answer from his mother, “My son, this is not
the Noondah, eater of the people.” And many persons came,
and looked at the rhinoceros, and felt very sorry for the young
man.

As for his father and mother, they both begged him to give
up, his father offering to give him anything he possessed if he
would only stay at home. But Mkaah Jeechonee said, “I don't
hear what you are saying; good-bye,” and was off again. This
time he still further increased the distance from his home,
and at last he saw an elephant asleep at noon in the forest.
Thereupon he said to his attendants, “Now we have found the
Noondah.” “Ah, where is he?” said they. “Yonder, in the shade.
Do you see it?” “Oh, yes, master! Shall we march up to it?” “If we
march up to it and it is looking this way, it will come at us, and
if it does that, some of us will be killed. | think we had best let
one man steal up close and see which way its face is turned.”

As everyone thought this was a good idea, a slave named
Keeroboto crept on his hands and knees and had a good look
at it. When he returned in the same manner, his master asked,

| 183

“Well, what's the news? Is it the Noondah?” “Il do not know,”
replied Keeroboto, “but | think there is very little doubt that it
is. It is broad, with a very big head, and, goodness, | never saw
such large ears!” “Alright,” said Mkaah Jeechonee, “let us eat,
and then go for it.”

So they took their arrowroot cakes and their molasses cakes,
and ate until they were quite full. Then the youth said to them,
“My people, today is perhaps the last we shall ever see, so we
will take leave of each other. Those who are to escape will
escape, and those who are to die will die, but if | die, let those
who escape tell my mother and father not to grieve for me.”
But his attendants said, “Oh, come along, master; none of us
will die, please God.”

So they went on their hands and knees till they were close
up, and then they said to Mkaah Jeechonee, “Give us your plan,
master,” but he said, “There is no plan; only let all fire at once.”
Well, they fired all at once, and immediately the elephant
jumped up and charged at them. Then such a helter-skelter
flight as there ever was! They threw away their guns and
everything they carried and made for the trees, which they
climbed with surprising alacrity. As to the elephant, he kept
straight ahead until he fell down some distance away. They
all remained in the trees from three until six o’clock in the
morning, without food and without clothing. The young man
sat in his tree and wept bitterly, saying, “| don’t exactly know
what death is, but it seems to me this must be very like it.”

As no one could see anyone else, he did not know where his
attendants were, and though he wished to come down from
the tree, he thought, “Maybe the Noondah is down below there
and will eat me.” Each attendant was in exactly the same fix,
wishing to come down but afraid the Noondah was waiting to
eat him.

Keeroboto had seen the elephant fall but was afraid to get
down by himself, saying, “Perhaps, though it has fallen down, it
is not dead.” But presently he saw a dog go up to it and smell

184 |

it, and then he was sure it was dead. Then he got down from
the tree as fast as he could and gave a signal cry, which was
answered, but not being sure from whence the answer came,
he repeated the cry, listening intently. When it was answered,
he went straight to the place from which the sound proceeded
and found two of his companions in one tree. To them he said,
“Come on, get down; the Noondah is dead.” So they got down
quickly and hunted around until they found their master.

When they told him the news, he came down also, and after
a little while the attendants had all gathered together, and
had picked up their guns and their clothes, and were alright
again. But they were all weak and hungry, so they rested and
ate some food, after which they went to examine their prize.
As soon as Mkaah Jeechonee saw it, he said, “Ah, this is the
Noondah! This is it! This is it!” And they all agreed that this was
it.

So they dragged the elephant three days to their town, and
then the youth began singing, “Oh, mother, this is he, the
Noondah, eater of the people.”

He was naturally quite upset when his mother replied, “My
son, this is not the Noondah, eater of the people.” She further
said, “Poor boy! What trouble you have been through. All the
people are astonished that one so young should have such a
great understanding!”

Then his father and mother began their entreaties again,
and finally it was agreed that this next trip should be his last,
whatever the result might be.

Well, they started off again, and went on and on, past the
forest, until they came to a very high mountain, at the foot of
which they camped for the night. In the morning they cooked
their rice and ate it, and then Mkaah Jeechonee said, “Let us
now climb the mountain and look all over the country from its
peak.” And they went and they went until, after a long, weary
while, they reached the top, where they sat down to rest and
form their plans.

| 185

They camped for the night.

186 |

Now, one of the attendants, named Shindaano, while walking
about cast his eyes down the side of the mountain and
suddenly saw a great beast about half way down, but he could
not make out its appearance distinctly on account of the
distance and the trees. Calling his master, he pointed it out
to him, and something in Mkaah Jeechonee’s heart told him
that it was the Noondah. To make sure, however, he took his
gun and his spear and went partly down the mountain to get
a better view. “Ah,” said he, “this must be the Noondah. My
mother told me its ears were small, and those are small; she
told me the Noondah is broad and short, and so is this; she said
it has blotches like a civet cat, and there are the blotches; she
told me the tail is thick, and there is a thick tail. It must be the
Noondah.”

Then he went back to his attendants and bade them eat
heartily, which they did. Next, he told them to leave every
unnecessary thing behind because, if they had to run, they
would be better without encumbrance, and if they were
victorious, they could return for their goods. When they had
made all their arrangements, they started down the mountain,
but when they had got about halfway down, Keeroboto and
Shindaano were afraid. Then the youth said to them, “Oh, let's
go on; don’t be afraid. We all have to live and die. What are you
frightened about?” So, thus encouraged, they went on.

When they came near the place, Mkaah Jeechonee ordered
them to take off all their clothing except one piece and to place
that piece tightly on their bodies so that, if they had to run,
they would not be caught by thorns or branches. So, when they
came close to the beast, they saw that it was asleep, and all
agreed that it was the Noondah. Then the young man said,
“Now the sun is setting; shall we fire at it, or let be till morning?”
And they all wished to fire at once and see what the result
would be without further tax on their nerves; therefore, they
arranged that they should all fire together.

| 187

They all crept up close, and when the master gave the word,
they discharged their guns together. The Noondah did not
move; that one dose had been sufficient. Nevertheless, they all
turned and scampered up to the top of the mountain. There
they ate and rested for the night. In the morning, they ate
their rice and then went down to see how matters were, when
they found the beast lying dead. After resting and eating, they
started homeward, dragging the dead beast with them. On
the fourth day, it began to give indications of decay, and the
attendants wished to abandon it, but Mkaah Jeechonee said
they would continue to drag it if there was only one bone left.

And when his mother looked out, she cried, “My son, this is
the Noondah, eater of the people.”

Then all the people came out to welcome him, and his father
was overcome with joy, and loaded him with honors, and
procured him a rich and beautiful wife, and when he died,
Mkaah Jeechonee became sultan, and lived long and happily,
beloved by all the people.

188 |

12. How Mafani Earned
His Bride

[From African Jungle Tales by Carl Bender, 1919. See
item #27 in the Bibliography.]

Once upon a time there lived a boy whose name was Mafani.

One day Mafani came to his Grandmother and _ said,
“Grandmother dear, do let me have a cutlass! | want to go and
set some bird traps!”

“I cannot let you have a cutlass, my son. | fear you will hurt
yourself,” the Grandmother said.

But Mafani was not so easily discouraged. He picked up a
fragment of a cooking pot, sharpened one end of it on a stone,
and used it instead of a cutlass. Then he went and cut a
number of long and slender shoots, covered them with a thick
sticky mass which he had prepared from the sap of the gum-
tree, and planted them in the midst of a grass-patch.

He had hardly placed the traps when a turtle-dove perched
on one of them and was caught, and Mafani took the dove
to his hut and prepared it for his noonday meal. But his
Grandmother took the bird and ate it.

Then Mafani said to his Grandmother, “When | asked you
for a cutlass, you would not let me have it, but now you have
eaten my bird. It is only just that you pay me for it.” And his
Grandmother gave him a cutlass.

Then Mafani took the cutlass and went on a trip. On the way,
he met some people who were building a dam so that they
would have enough water for the dry season. They had some
difficulty in ramming the sticks because they were not properly
sharpened.

| 189

Mafani watched them for some time. Finally he walked up
and said, “Why don’t you folks sharpen your sticks? How foolish
of you to waste your time and strength in this way!”

“But we have no cutlass wherewith we could sharpen the
sticks,” the people replied.

“Il have an excellent cutlass with me, sharp enough to cut a
log,” said Mafani. “I can let you have it if you care to!”

So they took Mafani’s cutlass and sharpened their sticks. But
in their eagerness to be through in a hurry, they used the
cutlass rather roughly and broke it in two.

Then Mafani said, “You have broken my cutlass and must pay
for it.” And they gave him some calabashes filled with drinking
water. This he took and went on.

After a while, he met some people who were collecting
edible ants. Having been out in the heat for some time, they
suffered from thirst. So when Mafani came along, they begged
him to let them have some water.

“lam willing to helo you out, but don’t drink it all,” said
Mafani. But when the people tasted the water, they kept on
drinking until not a drop of it was left. And Mafani said, “Now
pay me for the water!” And they gave him a measure of ants.

As Mafani passed on, he saw some birds busily engaged in
collecting oil-seeds for their evening meal. And he asked them
and said, “Why do you eat these seeds? They will surely make
you sick. Better try some of these ants. Here, help yourself and

give me back the rest!” And he handed them the measure of
ants.

And the birds commenced to eat, and they kept on eating
until the last ant was done away with. Then said Mafani to the
birds, “Now that you have eaten all the ants, it is only fair that
you pay me for them.” When the birds heard this, they flew
to a tree nearby and plucked plenty of fruit. This they gave in
exchange for the ants. Mafani took the fruit and passed on.

After he had gone some distance, he came to a big hill. He

was too tired to climb the hill with a load on his head, so he

190 |

threw himself down in the shadow of a palm-tree to rest. There
he met a party of hunters. They were very hungry and wistfully
looked at Mafani’s fruit. When Mafani saw this, he told the men
to help themselves. In a short time they had eaten all the fruit
and not a bit of it was left.

This was not at all to Mafani’s liking, and he said, “Listen,
friends! | invited you to help yourself to some fruit, but | did
not give you permission to eat it all. Now that you have actually
eaten every bit of it, | must insist that you pay me for it.” And
they paid him with the leg of a pig.

As Mafani passed on again, he came to a lonely hut where
an old woman was drying some salt by the fire. And he placed
the meat which the hunters had given him on the fire to roast.
When it was well done, the old woman took it and ate it all up.
Then Mafani said to the woman, “Since you have eaten all my
meat, it is only just that you pay for it.” The woman consented
and gave him a measure of salt.

Shortly after, as Mafani was passing over the top of the hill
he met the Wind, who was driving some dry leaves and fibers
from a nearby ceiba tree before him. “How foolish of you,” said
Mafani to the Wind. “You had better take some of my salt
instead.” Thereupon the Wind took hold of the salt, and in the
twinkling of an eye it was all gone.

Then Mafani said to the Wind, “Did | not tell you to take only
a part of my salt? Now that you have taken all, you may as well
pay for it.” Then the Wind called another Wind, caught it in a
bag, and gave the bag of wind to Mafani.

As Mafani passed on again, he met the wife of a chief who
was cleaning corn. And Mafani said to the woman, “How
strange that you, the wife of a powerful chief, should clean the
corn yourself! Why not use some of the wind in my bag?”

And the woman took the bag and untied it to make use of
the wind. In a moment all the dust and shells were blown away,
and only the clean and full weighted corn remained. But the
bag which had contained the wind was empty. “Why did you

| 19]

take all the wind?” Mafani asked. “Now you can pay for it too. |
was willing to do you a favor, but | do not care to be robbed!”
And the woman, being well to do, paid him with a double
measure of corn.

After Mafani had left the woman, he noticed a flock of wild
pigeons by the wayside, busily engaged in picking berries. And
he said to them, “For land’s sake! How can you live on such
miserable fare? Why not try a bit of my corn?” And he opened
his bag and set it before them.

In an incredibly short time the pigeons had eaten all the corn.
Not a solitary kernel was left. When Mafani asked the pigeons
to pay for the corn, they gave him a measure of oil-seed. Of this
he made oil, put it into a calabash, and passed on.

And he came to a town where a woman had died. They
were just making preparations for her burial. Everything they
needed was on hand, except one very important item — oil
wherewith to anoint the body. When Mafani heard of their
trouble, he offered them some of his oil. When they had used
the last bit of it, Mafani demanded other oil in return. Being
unable to pay, they let him have the dead woman. Mafani took
the body and went away.

When, shortly after, he came near another town, he took the
body, placed it against a tree on the edge of a precipice, and
entered the town, where a wrestling-match was just going on.
Mafani stood and looked on for a while. Then he said to one
of the maidens near him, whose beauty and rich apparel had
attracted his attention, “Il pray you, go and call my wife, who is
waiting for me just back of the town. Her name is Mawum.”

And the maiden went and found the woman leaning against
a tree and sound asleep, as it seemed. And she called, “Mawum!
Mawum!” When there was no answer, she went to wake her.
But when she touched the body, it fell over and rolled down the
precipice.

The maiden was almost frightened to death. When she had
sufficiently recovered from the shock, she ran back and told

192 |

Mafani, “Your wife has fallen down the precipice!” And Mafani
said to the maiden, “What have you done? | shall hold your
father responsible for my loss!” Thereupon the maiden’s father
gave his daughter to Mafani and said, “Take her; she is yours.
May she be the life of your life and the joy of your heart.”

And Mafani took his bride and returned to his Grandmother.
They were very happy together and lived to a good old age.

| 193

13. How the Turtle
Outwitted the Pig

[From African Jungle Tales by Carl Bender, 1919. See
item #27 in the Bibliography.]

Mrs. Turtle one day heard of a dance which was to take place
in a neighboring town. She was very anxious to go, but she had
no necklace to put on.

After thinking over the matter, she went to her friend, Mrs.
Pig, who lived at the other end of the town, to borrow her
necklace. Her friend was only too glad to help her out, and with
great expectations of a jolly good time Mrs. Turtle hurried off.

During the dance in the midst of all the excitement, the
necklace was stolen from Mrs. Turtle. This greatly troubled her
mind and caused her to leave the dance before time.

On her way home, she stopped in at Mrs. Pig's place.

“Have you come back with my necklace?!” Mrs. Pig asked.

“They have stolen it from me,” replied Mrs. Turtle in a
sorrowful tone.

“Then you shall pay for it,” indignantly answered Mrs. Pig.

Several moons had passed. During all this time, nothing was
seen of Mrs. Turtle. So Mrs. Pig one day said to her husband,
“Grunty, you had better go to the hut of the Turtle and see
about the payment for my necklace. | must have another in
time for the big dance at the next full moon. You had better be
up and doing. There is no time to be lost!”

So Grunty went to the hut of the Turtle. When the Turtle saw
Grunty the Pig coming toward his hut, he said to his wife, “If the

Pig comes in here, you tell him that | am not at home

194 |

Then he threw himself down, bottom side up, and pulled in
his head and legs. In this position he looked very much like a
whetstone.

After the Pig had entered, he asked, “Where is the Turtle?”

“He is not in,” the Turtle’s wife lied.

On hearing this, the Pig got very angry and, noticing what he
supposed to be a whetstone lying on the floor, he said, “l am
going to take his whetstone.” And he picked up the imaginary
whetstone, not knowing that it was the Turtle turned bottom
side up, and with it left the hut.

He hid the imaginary whetstone in the grass by the wayside
and marked the place with a stick. Then he went back to the
hut of the Turtle to await his return.

Immediately after Grunty the Pig had left him, the Turtle
righted himself and walked off.

In the meantime the Pig was impatiently awaiting the
Turtle’s return. After some time, the Turtle returned to his hut
and there met Crunty the Pig. The Pig, on seeing the Turtle, at
once blurted out, “Pay me for the necklace which your wife has
borrowed and lost!”

Just at this moment, Mrs. Turtle, who was in an adjoining
room and had heard the words of the Pig, stuck her head
through the door and said, “The Pig took your whetstone away
while you were gone!”

Then the Turtle said to the Pig, “First bring back my
whetstone if you want me to pay.”

And the Pig went back to the place where he hid the
whetstone, only to discover that the whetstone was gone. He
searched all over the place but could not find it.

The Pig was in a rather gloomy mood when he came back to
the hut of the Turtle and said, “Someone must have stolen the
whetstone. | had hidden it in the grass, but it is no longer there.
In some mysterious way it has disappeared, and | cannot find
it.”

| 195

When the Turtle heard this, he said to the Pig, “Do not think
for a moment that you can get your necklace before you have
returned my whetstone!”

The Pig is still looking for the whetstone. So anxious is he
to find it that he has even taught his children to grub up the
ground.

196 |

14. The Punishment of
the Turtle

[From African Jungle Tales by Carl Bender, 1919. See
item #27 in the Bibliography.]

A great and wonderful tree, laden with luscious fruit, stood
in a clearing in the jungle. In its shadow all the animals from
far and near had assembled. As they beheld the beautiful and
tempting fruit, the very sight of it made their mouths water. “To
eat of it must be a real treat,” they thought.

“Let us send a messenger to the King and ask his
permission,” said the Giraffe, who had, secretly, tasted the fruit.
The suggestion of the Giraffe was received with applause and,
after a somewhat lengthy deliberation as to who should go,
the Rabbit was commissioned to bring their petition before the
King.

The Rabbit, on arriving at the King’s court, was most
graciously received. The King, on hearing the petition, said to
the Rabbit, “Go back and tell my subjects that they are free to
eat of the fruit, but the choicest and sweetest they must not
touch, for that belongs to me!”

The Rabbit, after hearing this gladsome message, hurried off,
all the while repeating to himself the words of the King, “Tell my
subjects that they may eat of the fruit, only not of the choicest
and best, for that belongs to me!”

As he hurried on, heedless of obstacles in the way, he ran
against a stone, turned a summersault in the air, and landed
on his back. It all had come so unexpected and sudden that he
forgot to repeat the King’s message and, when he got on his
feet again, it had entirely slipped his mind.

| 197

On hearing what had happened, the animals immediately
dispatched another messenger — this time the Goat. When
the Goat arrived at the King’s court and delivered his message,
he was given the same answer as the Rabbit before him: “Go
and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, only
not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!”

On hearing the message, the Goat, fleet-footed as he was,
hurried off, all the while repeating to himself the words of the
King, “Go and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the
fruit, only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!”

As he sped along, heedless of obstacles in the way, he
suddenly, and with the full weight of his body, ran against a
boulder and tumbled head over heels into a ditch. When, after
awhile, he came to himself and got on his feet again, the King’s
message had entirely slipped his mind.

Again the animals sent a messenger to the King — this time
the wise and circumspect Turtle. Slow but sure, the Turtle
wended his way toward the King’s court. When at last he stood
before the King and made known his request, he too received
exactly the same answer as the Goat and the Rabbit before
him. Ceremoniously the Turtle bowed himself out of the King’s
presence and started for home.

Slowly as he had come, he made his way back, all the while
repeating to himself the words of the King, “Go and tell my
subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, only not of the
choicest and best, for that belongs to me!”

As he went on, he was so wrapped in thought and taken up
with the King’s message that he failed to notice a log in the
way. He walked straight into it and, from the force of the shock,
fell flat on his back. But he had presence of mind enough to
continue repeating the words of the King. After many futile
efforts, he also succeeded in righting himself and getting on
his paddles again. Unable to climb over the log, he walked
around it and passed on. In due time he arrived at the tree,
where the animals were impatiently waiting for his return.

198 |

When at last they saw the Turtle coming along, they knew
at once by the triumphant look in his face that he was the
bearer of good news. And so it proved to be: “We may eat of
the fruit,” cried the Turtle, “only not of the choicest and best, for
that belongs to the King.”

At these words a storm of applause rent the air. “Up and let us
climb the tree!” they all cried. “Come on, Turtle! You too climb
the tree! You must not fail to get your share after bringing such
good news! Tuck yourself up and get busy!”

“How can | climb the tree?” said the Turtle. “I am too small. |
can't even think of such an attempt, handicapped as | am.” And
he sat down and looked on while the others climbed the tree
and helped themselves to the fruit. They all had a jolly good
time and ate to their heart’s content.

During all this time, the Turtle was sitting in the grass below,
harboring all kinds of evil thoughts. He was brooding over plans
that would enable him to get some of the King’s fruit without
being caught.

At sunset the animals came down. They were all very tired, so
they stretched themselves out in the grass and soon were fast
asleep. At last the Turtle’s opportunity had come! He was just
aching to get some of the King’s fruit. Stealthily he approached
the tree, climbed it without any difficulty whatever, and helped
himself to the King’s fruit.

When he was well satisfied, he cautiously slipped to the
ground. Some of the fruit which he had taken along down he
placed by the side of the sleeping Elephant. In this way he
hoped to deceive the other animals and cover up his guilt.

Just as the first rays of the morning sun appeared on the
horizon, the animals awoke, rubbed their eyes, and stretched
their limbs. Then they went to the river to bathe. On coming
back, they chanced to look at the tree and noticed, to their
horror, that the King’s fruit had disappeared during the night.

“Oh, what shall we do?!” they exclaimed. “This thing will
surely bring the wrath of the King and well merited

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punishment upon us! Who in all the world could have done
this?”

When they saw the Turtle sitting nearby, they cried with one
accord, “Turtle, you are the sinner!”

“12?” said the Turtle. “The insinuation! | can’t even climb a tree,
and you all know it! If you have eyes to see, then just have a look
at the Elephant and the fruit by his side! It also explains why he
preferred to stay here when the rest of you went to the river!”
Thus lied the Turtle.

Not taking time to consider and believing the Elephant
guilty, the animals got so enraged that, without further
thought, they rushed upon the Elephant and killed him. In
this wise, the innocent and good-natured fellow paid with his
life for the guilt of the Turtle. His body they cut up, and they
divided the meat between them. The Turtle, in recognition of
his services, was given one of the haunches. Then they formed
a procession and started for home.

On the way, the Turtle, puffed up with pride and in a mocking
way, began to sing:

Meat have |, more than | can eat!
By cunning | have beaten all;

The giant | have caused to fall

And to the monster brought defeat.

“Say, Turtle, what kind of a song is this you are singing?” the
animals asked.

“lam only singing about myself,” answered the Turtle, and he
commenced to sing again.

Woe is me, my back is bent,
Because my burden is too great;
The haunch which you upon me laid
Will surely hasten on my end

Unless you quickly lend me aid.

200 |

“Poor Turtle!” the animals exclaimed. “You will surely break
down under your load. We will relieve you of your burden.
Come, let us take off the haunch and give you a shoulder

instead!” So they took off the haunch from his back, gave him
one of the shoulders, and passed on again.

They had not gone very far when the Turtle sang again:

Meat have I, more than | can eat!
By cunning | have beaten all;

The giant | have caused to fall

And to the monster brought defeat.

“Listen, the Turtle is singing again!” said the Leopard.

“Say, Turtle, what are you singing this time?” the animals
asked.

“What am | singing? | have but one song to sing, as you all
know. It is this,” and the Turtle sang:

Woe is me, my back is bent,
Because my burden is too great;
The shoulder you upon me laid
Will surely hasten on my end
Unless you quickly lend me aid.

“Let him carry the liver!” one of the animals cried. So they
took the shoulder off his back and gave him the liver.

They had hardly started again when, for the third time, they
heard the song of the Turtle. This time they understood. “Stop!”
they all cried. “This time we have you! You are the culprit, and
not the Elephant, whom you have killed by your cunning and
deceit. Poor Elephant! What a pity that the good and honest
fellow became the victim of the crafty Turtle! But do not
deceive yourself, Turtle! Just and well merited punishment will
be meted out to you in due time!”

Not long after this had happened, a big feast was proclaimed
which was to come off at a certain time and place, and they

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started to go there in a body. They had almost reached their
destination when they came to a high bridge — a giant cotton
tree which lay across the stream. On the other side of the
stream was a big hill, on the top of which they were to offer
sacrifices and have their feast.

The long and tedious journey through the jungle had
wearied them, and so they decided to rest a bit before crossing.
When at last they had reached the top of the hill, a fattened
bullock was killed and preparations were made for the feast.

A chilly breeze swept over the hill-top. This was very annoying
to some of the animals, and so it was decided by a majority vote
to have the feast in the valley below. The meat of the bullock
they apportioned in loads and carried down on their heads and
shoulders. The intestines — which, together with the stomach,
were considered as rarebits — they carefully wrapped up by
themselves in the hide of the bullock. The Turtle was to remain
at the top of the hill where he would be subject to torture by
evil spirits and demons. This was to be the punishment for all
his wickedness and deceit.

But once more the Turtle outwitted them all! Being fully
aware of their designs, he managed, unnoticed by anyone, to
crawl into the empty stomach of the bullock before the bundle
was tied and carried down the hill.

After the animals had reached the valley below, they laid
down their loads and prepared for the feast. A great surprise
awaited them — for when they opened the load that contained
the stomach of the bullock, the Turtle crawled out.

Thereupon, the animals expelled the Turtle from their society
and made him live in a desert place all by himself. Barren rocks
and sandy wastes are his abode, and he is in constant danger
of being trampled upon or crushed under the hoofs of the
Buffaloes.

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15. Mantis and
Will-o-the-Wisp

[From The Mantis and His Friends: Bushman Folklore
by Wilhelm Bleek, Lucy Lloyd and Dorothea Bleek (1924).
See item #35 in the Bibliography. The portrait of the
San storyteller ||kabbo is from Bleek and Lloyd’s book
Specimens of Bushman Folklore. For a version of this
story in literary English, see Chapter 6 of Jenny Seed’s
The Bushman’s Dream, #173 in the Bibliography,]

| 203

The Mantis caught sight of Will-o-the-Wisp walking about;
he asked where Will-o-the-Wisp came from. Will-o-the-Wisp
told him that he was hunting about.

While Will-o-the-Wisp was answering him, the Mantis put
down his quiver, he took out a knobkerrie, he looked to see
where Will-o-the-Wisp’s eyes were. He looked him up and
down, he walked all round him seeking his eyes.

He asked Will-o-the-Wisp where his eyes might be. Will-o-
the-Wisp said that his eyes were not anywhere, and the Mantis
asked him how he could walk about like a man who had eyes.

Then the Mantis threatened him, and Will-o-the-Wisp
dodged. And the Mantis said, “See now, why did you spring
aside when | threatened you? That looks as if you had eyes, you
seem to have seen that | meant to beat you.”

And the Mantis searched Will-o-the-Wisp again; again he
looked him over, seeking his eyes. And the Mantis told him that
he was really going to fight him.

And Will-o-the-Wisp told the Mantis that he might fight him
if he wanted to do so.

Then the Mantis threatened him and Will-o-the-Wisp
dodged him. And the Mantis told Will-o-the-Wisp that he must
have hidden his eyes, for how else could he dodge like a man
who had eyes?

Then the Mantis struck at him, and he sprang aside stooping,
and the Mantis hit the ground while Will-o-the-Wisp stood
on one side. Then the Mantis asked him whether he were a
sorcerer, for he did not understand why he did not see his eyes,
and Will-o-the-Wisp told him that he had no eyes, yet when
he struck him Will-o-the-Wisp dodged away from his stick. He
acted like a man who had eyes.

Then Will-o-the-Wisp said, “Now | will fight you,” and he took
up the knobkerrie.

The Mantis said, “That was a lie you told just now when you
said your eyes were not anywhere. Where are your eyes with
which you mean to fight me?” When Will-o-the-Wiso was

204 |

about to hit him, the Mantis struck at Will-o-the-Wisp; then
Will-o-the-Wisp struck him. The Mantis said, “How is it that you
have hit my head after telling me you had no eyes?”

Then the Mantis struck at Will-o-the-Wisp again, and he
dodged away stooping, and the Mantis hit the ground. And
Will-o-the-Wisp hit the Mantis’s head and broke it, and hit it
again. And the Mantis sprang aside and ran away because he
felt he could not bear it any longer.

Then he called to the quiver and the shoes so that his things
should follow him home.

The things came to him at home, and his son-in-law
Kwammanga asked him, “Whom have you been fighting, who
has broken your head like this?”

And Mantis answered, “Will-o-the-Wisp was the one whom |
saw. It was he who did this to me. | was looking for his eyes, |
did not know where they could be. So | tried to strike him and
knock him down; it was he who broke my head.”

And Kwammanga told him that Will-o-the-Wisp’s eyes ought
to be on his feet between the great toe and the next. And
the Mantis said he wanted to go back and look for Will-o-the-
Wisp again. And Kwammanga said, “Why is it that whenever
you meet any man, you want to fight him? First sleep a little;
afterwards you shall seek Will-o-the-Wisp and fight him if you
really want to fight.”

Then the Mantis asked, “What am | to do?”

And Kwammanga said, “Do you not know what you should
do to Will-o-the-Wisp if you want to fight him?” And Mantis
replied that he did not know how to fight Will-o-the-Wisp.
Kwammanga then said, “When you see him, you must threaten
him and see whether he dodges aside as he did before. Then
you must look at his feet and you will see the eyes peeping out
between the toes. Then you must kick dust into his eyes, and
while he sits rubbing his eyes there, you must keep hitting his
head.”

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And the Mantis went out in the morning and soon saw Will-
o-the-Wisp and ran up to him. Then he threw dust into the
other’s eyes, and while Will-o-the-Wisp rubbed his eyes, the
Mantis sprang up and beat his head and broke it.

And Will-o-the-Wisp said, “Did not Kwammanga tell you
about me? Is not that why you are breaking my head?”

Will-o-the-Wisp replied, “Go back, go and tell him how you
have fought me. You know Kwammanga told you about it, for
you would not have beaten me like this if you had not known.”

And the Mantis answered that he had always known. The
other day he had not dreamt well. “That was how you broke
my head. For you would not have beaten me thus, if | had not
dreamt badly.”

Will-o-the-Wisp said, “Why did you not fight me in the same
manner then that you are fighting now? It looks as if you really
did not know. For if you had known, you would have beaten me
last time we saw each other.”

The Mantis answered that he had really known last time. It
had happened that he had dreamt a bad dream; therefore he
had fought badly. That was not his usual way of fighting.

Will-o-the-Wisp said, “Who was the person who told you that
| have eyes?”

“Nobody told me, for | always knew that you had eyes.”

And Will-o-the-Wisp answered, “Kwammanga told you how
to fight me. For | know that you are a stupid thing who would
not have known how to fight me.”

The Mantis said, “Am | a child that Kwammanga should teach
me? | am nota child that he should teach me, as if | were not

206 |

clever. | am a grownup person who is also cunning; therefore |
am clever.”

Will-o-the-Wisp said, “Somebody told you that my eyes are
on my feet between the toes. You acted as if someone had told
you. | saw that by your walk when you came out of the house.
You did not walk in the same manner as you did the other
time when we met. It looked as if you were rejoicing because
you thought you were going to beat me. You did not go slowly
because you knew what you had to do to beat me.”

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16. Mantis and
Aardwolf

[From The Mantis and His Friends: Bushman Folklore
by Wilhelm Bleek, Lucy Lloyd and Dorothea Bleek, 1924.
See item #35 in the Bibliography. The photograph of the

aardwolf is by Derek Keats at Wikimedia Commons]

Kwammanga and his family were going to see other people,
to visit Kwammanga’s people. He was going to visit the
Aardwolf, because she was his aunt. The Mantis said he would
go with them. Kwammanga said to his son, the young
Ichneumon, “Child, you must tell Grandfather that we are
going to see Aunt Aardwolf.”

208 |

The young Ichneumon said, “O my Grandfather Mantis!
Father says we are going to see Aunt Aardwolf, and her home
is not near, therefore you should sit still.” Then the Mantis said
he must be with Kwammanga; he had to accompany
Kwammanga wherever he went. And the young Ichneumon
said, “You must sit still.”

Then Kwammanga said, “You will have to let Grandfather go
with us, for he will not listen.”

So the Mantis went with Kwammanga. They went along, they
reached the home of the Aardwolf. Then Kwammanga begged
his Aunt, the Aardwolf, to give him a little Aardwolf. She was
inside the hole, as she usually is.

So when the Mantis came up to them and saw the Aardwolf
spoor, he called out, “Stop, stop, Grandson! Kwammanga must
think that an Aardwolf is here.” Then Kwammanga looked at
the young Ichneumon, for he wanted him to tell the Mantis
to be silent. The young Ichneumon said, “O my Grandfather
Mantis! You always go on like this when you come to anyone’s
home.”

Then Kwammanga laid down his things, he sat down.

The Mantis said, “Where are the people whose footmarks are
here?”

Kwammanga said, “O my Aunt! Come out and give me one
so that | may put it to roast for myself.”

Then the Mother Aardwolf came out, she sat in front of the
hole, looking at the Mantis, because she did not usually see
him. Therefore she stared at him.

Then Kwammanga said, “I have begged you to give me one
so that | may rub off the dust, for you see | am white with
dust.” And the Mother Aardwolf said, “O man, my children are
not grown up yet, they are still little.” And Kwammanga said,
“Do you think | do not feel covered all over with dust, and the
dust burns?” Then the Mother Aardwolf went in and did not
come out at once, for she was thinking inside the hole that she
did not want to give a child. Then she caught hold of a little

| 209

Aardwolf and pulled it out, because it was a lean one. She gave
it to Kwammanga.

Kwammanga took hold of the little Aardwolf, he cut it open
and laid it down. He gathered firewood, and brought it. He dug
out a hole for the fire, he put wood into the hole, he put stones
to heat on the wood, he lighted the fire with his tinder-box; he
let it blaze up and singed the little Aardwolf. Then he took it
out and scraped it and skinned it and put it down. He went to
the fire, he scratched the coals aside, he put the little Aardwolf
down to roast, he covered it up and made a fire above it. Then
he arose and sat down, for he sat waiting for the little Aardwolf
to roast. Then he got up and went to it, and rolled it out, and
shook off the ashes and put it to cool. Then he took it up, and
cut it up and gave the heart to the Mantis, and they ate. They
put away pieces of meat, for they felt that they must keep some
for the women who were hungry. They returned home.

The Mantis was greedy; therefore he turned back to the
Aardwolf. He went up to her hole, he laid down his things, he
gathered wood, he scratched open the ashes, he put bushes on
the fire. He put stones to heat on the bushes, he lighted the fire
with his tinderbox, he made it blaze. When the fire had burnt
up, he said, “O my Aunt, come out, give me a little thing to cut
up.”

The Aardwolf was inside and would not come out. The Mantis
sat waiting for her; he was alone, for Kwammanga had gone
home. He spoke again, “O my Aunt, come out, give me a little
thing to cut up so that | may rub off the dust from myself.” Then
the Aardwolf stuck out her head while her body was inside; she
sat looking at the Mantis. Then the Mantis sat looking, sat and
sat and said, “Why are you staring at me because | wanted you
to give me a little thing with which to wipe off the dust?”

The Aardwolf did not speak to him; she went in and took a
little girl Aardwolf and pulled her out. And the Aardwolf held
her fast while she gave her to the Mantis. For she thought that
when the Mantis seized the little Aardwolf, she would try to

210 |

catch the Mantis while she kept hold of the little Aardwolf’s
other arm. Then the Aardwolf caught hold of the Mantis with
one arm, she pulled the Mantis onto the fire while she kept fast
hold of the little Aardwolf. She knocked the Mantis down on the
fire which he had shown her.

Then the Mantis said, “Oh blisters!” for he wished to fly out of
the fire. Then he flew away, flew to water. He descended when
he saw the water was near. He alighted, he popped into the
water, he said, “Oh blisters! Oh dear! That fire into which the
Aardwolf mother put me was hot.”

And he came out of the water, he picked up the cloak, he
threw it over his shoulders, he picked up the quiver, he slung
it on. He went homewards, he came along moaning, he said,
“Hng, hng, hng, hng,” because of the burns. Moaning, he found
the hut.

Then Kwammanga spoke, “Child, tell Grandfather that |
wanted him to come quietly. For he seems to think we are
used to go back again to the Aardwolf, but when the Aardwolf
has already given us a little one, we do not turn back. For the
Aardwolf generally acts like this.” Then the young Ichneumon
said, “O my Grandfather Mantis! Father wants me to say that
he told you to come quietly, for the Aardwolf generally acts like
this to us.”

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17. The Rooster's Kraal:
A Swazi Tale

[From Fairy Tales from South Africa by Mrs. E. J.
Bourhill and Mrs. J. B. Drake, 1908. See item #36 in the
Bibliography. The illustration is by W. Herbert Holloway.]

Once upon atime there lived a great King who ruled over many
thousands of men. The city in which he dwelt was so large that
it would have taken you many hours to walk round it, and no
one had yet counted the multitude of his cattle. But in spite
of his great wealth, he was of so grasping a disposition that
he never seemed to have enough, nor did he care whether
he gained his ends justly. You shall hear the story of the
misfortunes he incurred through this same passion of greed.

One day he sent out a party of men headed by his bravest
commander to hunt for otter-skins for the royal body-guard.
This regiment was the finest of his army, and he prided himself
on its perfect equipment. To show how highly he esteemed the
men belonging to it, he allowed them to wear otter-skins, the
royal fur, and long, waving head-dresses of ostrich feathers; no
soldiers equaled them in all the land.

The hunting-party had good sport, traveling for many miles
down the river and attacking the otters by night when they
assemble under the great rocks. The nights were warm and
pleasant, and day after day they followed their quarry till they
were far from home and found themselves in a new country.
Then in a few hours, the weather changed. Clouds came up
and covered the hills, and then followed a cold misty rain. It
grew colder and colder, and they had no shelter and were
drenched to the bone. They tried to light a fire by rubbing
two pieces of wood together, but the wood was damp and

212 |

no spark came. They tried flintstones, but the rain had spoiled
their tinder. They then thought of going to a neighbouring
kraal and there obtaining fire, but the country round was bare
and empty; not a soul was to be seen. And the rain continued
to fall heavily.

At last they decided to mount a hill and see if any habitation
could be found. They ascended the highest point within reach,
and far away, in the middle of a great plain on the other side,
they saw a single column of smoke. They all set out at once in
the new direction, and at the end of some hours they arrived
at the gate of a big kraal. Many hundreds of huts stood round
the cattle-pen, and there were oxen in plenty and large herds of
goats and sheep, but not a single human being could they see.
The men walked round the whole city, but the only occupants
of the huts were fowls of every size and colour who walked
in and out of the doors, and seemed busy and occupied on
important affairs. The commander grew more and more
puzzled.

At last they reached the great entrance of the cattle-kraal,
and there a magnificent golden Rooster stood on the fence,
whence he could survey the whole city. He did not move at
their approach, but surveyed them boldly with his bright yellow
eyes.

“What do you want?” the Rooster asked in the tones of a
man.

The commander and his warriors were so surprised that they
could not answer for a moment.

“Do you seek shelter?” repeated the Rooster. “If so, my people
will help you.”

“We thank you,” said the commander. “We only want fire. We
are far from home and have no means of warming ourselves or
cooking food.”

“You shall have all you want,” said the Rooster. “Il am aman
like yourselves, but a wicked King who was stronger than | has
bewitched me and all my people. He was a cannibal, and he

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actually asked for the hand of my daughters in marriage for his
sons. | refused to allow them to have anything to do with such
a wicked race, whereupon his magicians changed me and all
my subjects into roosters and hens.”

“Can you not win back your old form?” asked the
commander.

“Only if | overcome a more powerful King than myself, and
that | shall find difficult in my present shape,” said the Rooster
sadly.

Then he took the commander and his men to two beautiful
huts, gave them food and drink of the best and, when they
departed, provided them with a thin stick lighted in the fire
which would smoulder for many hours. The hunting-party
went back to their otter-skins, lighted a fire, and presently
returned home with their booty.

They related all their adventures to the King and gave hima
full account of the enchanted Rooster, his beautiful kraal, and
his great flocks and herds. The King’s greed awoke at once, and
he cried, “What fools serve me! Why did not you take the cattle
and come back with them at once? Could you not overcome a
few roosters and hens?”

“Great King,” said the commander, “there was no order to
conquer. Why should we steal from the Rooster, who gave us
all we wanted freely?”

“How could you possibly miss such a chance?” said the King.
“I will see to the matter myself at once.”

Then he ordered one of his regiments to start for the
Rooster’s kraal forthwith, and he waited at home for the
expected spoil.

His men soon found the path and, after a few days’ traveling,
arrived within sight of the enchanted city.

The golden Rooster was at his usual post at the gate of the
cattle-kraal. As he saw the regiment approach in battle array,
he called all his sheep and cattle and sent them into the kraal.
Then he flew to the main hut and called to all the fowls who

214 |

lived in the city, “Come out, come out! Here are warriors who
have come to take your cattle. Come out, come out, and defend
your homes.”

| 215

The fowls flew in from their lands in hundreds and thousands
and stood each at the door of his hut. Directly the regiment
set foot in the city, each picked out his man and flew towards
him, flapping his wings around his enemy’s head. In a few
minutes, each bird had pecked out the eyes of his opponent,
and such was their strength and ferocity that but two or three
men escaped alive out of the whole regiment.

The King was greatly incensed when he heard the news. His
blood was up, and he instantly sent forth his royal bodyguard,
the flower of his army, under the command of his favourite son.
They set out, clad in rich otter-skins and crowned with long
black feathers, each man a perfect warrior.

Many long days passed. Every evening at sundown the King
looked for the victorious army driving before them great herds
of lowing cattle, themselves scarcely visible in the clouds of
golden dust. But no one came, and the days grew into weeks.
At length one night at dusk, a wretched fugitive arrived,
footsore and scarcely able to drag himself along. His plumes
were gone; a fragment of otter-skin was still about his loins.

“Great King,” said he with many groans, “I am all that remains
of the royal bodyguard.”

“Is my son also dead?” cried the King in horror.

“Great King, the Prince is dead and all our men; no one can
stand against the assault of the enchanted fowls. The golden
Rooster spared me alone so that the fate of our warriors might
be known. He bade me say he Is still ready for you.”

But the King owned himself beaten. “How can | fight
anymore?” he said. “My bodyguard is destroyed and my bravest
son killed. Let the Rooster keep his city and his cattle.”

As the words fell from his lips, the golden Rooster and all
his men regained once more their rightful shape. They had
conquered in fair fight and now ruled over a great land in
happiness and peace.

216 |

18. The Three Little
Eggs: A Swazi Tale

[From Fairy Tales from South Africa by Mrs. E. J.
Bourhill and Mrs. J. B. Drake, 1908. See item #36 in the
Bibliography. The illustration is by W. Herbert Holloway.]

It was very early morning in mid-winter. The sun was just rising
over the great plains in a silver haze which melted into pale
gold as the wide stretches of veld came into view, burnt dry
with the summer heat. The rains had long ago been over. The
sun shone every day and all day, with a pleasant temperate
heat in a clear heaven. The whole country appeared golden,
save where the watercourses ran, and a few great evergreen
trees stood up in vivid contrast to the bleached summer
grasses.

By the side of a great fig-tree there was one poor little hut
surrounded by a plaited fence. Close to it was a little patch of
cultivated ground where a few dried mealie-stalks were still
standing. The air was very cold and raw so that it chilled you
through and through, but the sun had barely touched the top
of the great tree when a woman came out hurriedly from the
hut and passed through the kraal gate. You could see she was a
married woman by her full kilt of black ox-skins and her peaked
headdress. Besides, she carried on her back the dearest little
baby girl, wrapped in a goat-skin and half asleep, and by her
side ran a merry little boy. The mother herself was still young
and pretty, but her face was worn and thin, and if you had
looked close, you would have seen that her arms were covered
with scars and burns, as if she had been badly used.

She stood for a few minutes and looked first towards the
wide plains. Then she turned to the other side where great

| 217

hills rose up, ruddy and golden in the early sun. She seemed
to hesitate; then she turned to the mountains and was soon
on a tiny pathway which led by many windings to a wooded
gorge hundreds of feet above the plains. She did not sing as
she went, and often cast frightened looks behind her. But no
one followed and, after a time, as the hut disappeared from
view and the sun made all things warm and pleasant, she grew
less anxious and went on her way more quietly.

For she was running away from her husband. She had been
married now four years, and every year he had been more
unkind. He not only worked her very hard and gave her scarcely
anything to eat, but he also often beat her and had even
branded her with hot irons till she screamed with pain. She
was good and obedient and tried hard to please him, but he
only became more and more cruel to her and her children. Two
days before he had gone off to a big dance in a far-away kraal.
The poor woman so dreaded his return that she decided to
run away and beg her living as best she could. She knew there
were great chiefs on the other side of the mountains, and big
cities; she was a good worker, and doubtless they would give
her food.

She walked on and on, and the baby girl woke up and began
to laugh and play. They were now following the course of a
stream, but only a tiny trickle of water remained, and the ferns
were withered, and the thick bushes dry and leafless. All at
once the mother saw a fluffy white nest hanging on a long
bough.

“How pretty!” said she. “That will be the very thing to amuse
my baby.”

She went to the bough and detached the soft white nest
while her little son looked on with much interest. To her great
surprise, for it was yet many months to spring-time, she found
it contained three little eggs.

218 |

“Hold it fast,” said she to her little baby, “and do not smash
the little eggs on any account.”

| 219

Then she journeyed on once more. The sun was sinking fast,
and the air grew colder and colder, for on the hill-tops there
is sharp frost every night. No hut was in sight, though they
were now on more level ground, and the poor mother had no
covering but her one goat-skin, and no food. “Where shall | rest
tonight?” said she to herself. “There is nothing to be seen but
the open country.”

Then she heard a tiny voice at her ear, “Take the road to the
right; it will lead you to a safe place.”

She turned and looked, and found it was one of the little
eggs in the fluffy white nest! In very truth she saw there was
a tiny pathway to the right which she had not noticed before.
She took it at once, and just as the sun disappeared and the
white frost began to show, she found a beautiful hut under the
side of a great rock. No one seemed to live there, but it was
warm and cosy, and all ready for her use. Beautiful karosses
of ox-skin and goat-skin hung on the walls; food was already
prepared in little red pots — crushed mealies and peanuts, and
in the calabashes was an abundance of delicious thick amasi.
The little boy and baby girl cried with delight, and you can
imagine how pleased the poor mother was. The little nest was
first carefully laid aside. Then both mother and children ate a
good meal, for they were very hungry.

The little boy fell asleep at once, covered with the warm skins,
but his sister cried and would not lie down quietly. So her
mother tied her on her back once more and sang a cradle-
song, which is as pretty a thing as you will hear. She swung
gently to and fro, moving her arms as well in time to the low
chant:

Tula, mtwana;
Binda, mtwana;
U nina u fulela;
U nina u fulela;
Tula, mtwana.

220 |

Be quiet, my baby;

Be still, my child.

Your mother has gone to get green mealies;
Your sisters are all gone gathering wood;

So be quiet, baby, be still.

Your father has gone a-walking;

He has gone to drink good beer.

Your mother is working with a will;

So be quiet, baby, be still.

Soon the tiny head leaned forward, the little round arms
relaxed, and the baby girl was fast asleep. The tired mother
laid her down, and in a few moments was dreaming by her
children’s side.

The next morning they set forth again, much refreshed; they
continued on the same path, and the baby girl carried the little
eggs as before. Towards mid-day they came to a place where
two ways met. The mother stood looking at the two paths for a
long while, uncertain which to take. Then a tiny voice spoke in
her ear. It was the second little egg this time. “Take the road to
the left,” said he.

So she turned and followed the left-hand path till she came
in sight of an enormous hut, three times as big as any she had
ever seen before. She went straight up to it and looked in at the
door, full of curiosity. It was like no hut she had ever seen. The
calabashes and pots were all blood-red in colour, and very thin;
as the breeze came in at the door, they swayed like bubbles
and nearly fell for they were as light as air. One big pot was
blown right across the room, and as the poor mother’s eyes
followed it, she all but screamed aloud for, on the other side,
lay a huge monster, fast asleep. He was immensely tall and very
stout, his body was covered with tufts of brick-red hair, on his
head were two horns, and his long tail lay curled across his
knees. He was an Inzimu, without any doubt, and if he awoke
he would kill the mother and both her babies and eat them up.

| 221

“"Whatever shall | do?” cried the mother as she ran from the
door. “My little ones will both be killed.”

Then the third little egg spoke up. “Do you see that big stone?
Carry it with you and climb on top of the hut.”

The mother looked around, for many rocks were near. She
soon saw a round white stone, just of a size to drop through the
thatched roof of the hut and kill anyone it fell on. But it was far
beyond her power to lift it.

“However can | pick it up?” said the poor woman. “It is so
heavy.”

“Do as | bid you,” said the egg.

So she stooped down and tried to lift the stone. To her great
surprise, she found it quite light, and she took it to the back of
the hut. Then she lifted her babies onto the roof and climbed
up herself afterwards with the stone in her hand.

“Now let the stone drop on top of the monster,” said the egg.

The mother was just peering through the thatch to find the
exact spot under which the monster lay when the door opened
and in came a second ogre, dragging after him several dead
bodies.

“Now we shall certainly be seen,” said the mother. “All is over.”
But she kept quiet and did not move. The second Inzimu
began to chop up one of his victims for the evening meal. Once
he stopped, sniffed the air, and said, “There is something good
hidden in this hut, but | can’t make out where it is.”

He looked all round carefully but never thought of the roof,
and presently he put his supper on to boil and sat down to
watch it. Soon both Inzimus were fast asleep. The mother then
looked at her stone and said, “Here are two Inzimus; | cannot
kill both. What am | to do next?”

“Come down as quietly as you can,” said all the little eggs at
once, “and run with the babies as fast as possible.”

She slipped quietly down, and the little boy helped her with
the baby. In a few minutes they were away, trembling in every

292 |

limb, but the Inzimus did not wake up, and soon the big hut
was out of sight.

The poor mother breathed again and hoped that now at
last she would find a kraal and human beings to talk to. The
path wound in and out among bushes. They grew ever thicker
and more thorny, great trees began to appear, and it was soon
impossible to walk save in the one direction. The path gave a
sudden turn, and there, under a huge evergreen tree, was a
horrible ogress. She lay right across the path, fast asleep, for
the afternoon sun was warm. No doubt she was on her way
home to the big hut. She was even uglier than the Inzimus,
for she had a hideous snout like a wolf’s and one little horn
just between her eyes. She snored most terribly, so that the
branches of the tree shook.

Then the mother thought her last hour had really come, for
she could not return and the bush was too thick on either side
for her to escape.

But the little eggs did not desert her; two little voices
sounded together. “Look on your right: there lies a big axe.”

She looked and, sure enough, a great axe lay winking in the
sun. It was so large that it must have belonged to the ogress,
but the mother seized it quickly.

“Now,” said the little eggs again, “take that in your hand, go
softly to the tree, and lift your babies into the low branches.
When they are safe, climb up yourself and creep along the
great arm which is over the monster's head.”

The mother crept softly to the tree and lifted her little son
up into the branches. The trunk was smooth and round, and
the branches were many and not far from the ground, so the
little boy was able to hold his baby sister when they were safe
among the leaves; the mother mounted herself and crept
forward right over the monster’s head, the axe in her hand. She
nearly fell off with fright, but the little eggs spoke again.

“Aim the axe at the monster's head.”

| 223

She threw it with all her force and hit the ogress just above
her horn, but the ogress was only stunned, not killed.

“Slip down from the tree,” said the third little egg, “and chop
off the monster’s head quickly before she revives.”

The mother was down in a moment, ran forward with
desperate courage, and in a few minutes she had severed the
monster's head from its body.

When it was done, she stood back to recover herself, but
could scarcely believe her eyes as she looked. For out of the
monster came men, women, and children, cattle and goats,
one after another, till they filled the path and had to pass along
to open ground. Many hundreds appeared, for the ogress had
eaten every kind of animal and whole families of men in her
wicked life. When all had come, there were enough to people
a great kraal. Each one on his arrival turned to thank the poor
mother and her children, and, when all were there, the leaders
came forward to ask her to be their Queen.

“But | should never have done it without the three little eggs,”
said she, and turned to show them the little white nest. She
barely touched it with her hands when it vanished away, and
instead appeared three handsome Princes. The eldest took her
hand and said, “You have freed us from a wicked enchantress
by your courage. Your cruel husband is dead; he was killed in
a quarrel the day you fled from home. Be my wife, and we will
rule over these people forever.”

So the poor mother and her children found a happy home
and much honour. And all the people shouted for joy because
they had now both a King and a Queen.

224 |

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| 225

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226 |

19. How the Animals
Dug Their Well

[From Songs and Tales from the Dark Continent by

Natalie Curtis Burlin, C. Kamba Simango (who is shown
in the photograph playing a kalimba), and Madikane
Cele, 1920. See item #41 in the Bibliography,]

Once there was a terrible drought. No rain fell, the lakes dried
up, and the animals had no water. So Mphontholo the Lion,
who was King, called all the animals together and said, “You
must dig a well. Each of you must do his share and take his
turn.”

But Shulo the Hare, said, “I shall not waste my time nor
trouble myself with any digging. Let the others do that.” So he
ran off by himself.

But the other animals all gathered to do their share; they
came from many different parts of the country and each one,
as he trotted in to the place chosen for the well, sang as he ran:

Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje.
I’m coming joggy-jog trot,
I'm coming joggy-jog trot,
I’m coming joggy-jog trot.

Then the animal began to dance, for he thought that by
dancing he would kick up the ground. That was his way of
digging. And as he danced he sang:

Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!

| 227

Then he made way for the next animal, saying:

Tino lu kanda kuna, Va Njou!
| give my place to you, Sir Elephant!

Then Njou the Elephant would dance and sing:

Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje.
I’m coming joggy-jog trot,
I’m coming joggy-jog trot,
I’m coming joggy-jog trot.

Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!

At the end of his dance Njou would say:

Ti no lu kanda kuna, Va Nyati!
| give my place to you, Sir Buffalo!

Then Nyati the Buffalo would dance and sing:

Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje‘leka nje.
I’m coming joggy-jog trot,
I’m coming joggy-jog trot,
I’m coming joggy-jog trot.

Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!

At the end of his dance Nyati would say:

Ti no lu kanda kuna, Va Shelen!
I give my place to you, Sir Bushbuck!

228 |

So it went on until all had sung and danced and dug, yet no
water was in sight. Now, of course, though the animals thought
they were digging, they were really only packing the earth
down harder and harder by dancing in the same place.

So they all took counsel together and the King called Hamba
the Tortoise, and Hamba said, “The water is under the earth.”
And so instead of dancing on top of the earth, he dug down,
way underneath, far into the ground, and there he found the
water!

When the well was finished, the animals were very happy
for they knew that they would have plenty to drink. But they
also knew that they could not trust Shulo the Hare. They said,
“Though Shulo would not help and has done none of the
digging, we know that he will come at night and try to steal our
water. ” And they said, “Each night one of us must watch the
well.” And Bongo the Hyena said, “I will watch the first night. ”

Shulo, meanwhile, was planning how he could get the water,
and he filled his calabash with honey and went to the well.
There was Bongo just as he expected. Shulo said, as though
talking to himself, “I've got something here so sweet that
anybody who tastes it would have to be tied up before I’d give
him a second taste.”

Bongo said, “Ho, Shulo! Give me some of that sweet stuff.”
And Shulo dipped a stick in the calabash and smeared a little of
the honey across Bongo’s mouth. Bongo licked his lips. “More!”
he cried. Shulo said, “Anybody who tastes this would have to be
tied up before I'd give him a second taste.” Bongo answered,
“Tie me up, Shulo, but give me some more.” So the Hare tied
the Hyena hand and foot, but instead of giving him any honey,
he went to the well and drank all he wanted and filled his water
gourds. Then he jumped into the water and splashed around;
then he ran away, leaving the well all muddy and dirty.

The next night the animals set Kamba the Leopard to watch.
And along came Shulo again, talking to himself and saying,
“I’ve got something so sweet that anybody who tastes it would

| 229

have to be tied up before I'd give him a second taste.” Kamba
said, “Let me taste it, Shulo!” So Shulo smeared the Leopara’s
mouth with honey and Kamba licked his whiskers and said,
“More!” But Shulo answered, “Anybody who tastes this would
have to be tied up before I'd give him a second taste.” Kamba
said, “Tie me up as tight as you like, Shulo, but give me another
taste.” So the Hare tied the Leopard, all four paws, but he never
gave him any honey at all. He filled his gourds and then drank
at the well; then he jumped into the water and splashed and
muddied it. Then he ran away, leaving it all dirty.

The next night they set Mphofu the Antelope to watch, and
when the moon was rising, along came Shulo saying, “I’ve got
something so sweet that anybody who tastes it would have to
be tied up before I’d give him another taste.” And Mphofu said,
“Let me taste it, Shulo!” Then Shulo smeared the Antelope’s
mouth with honey. Mphofu had never tasted anything like that
before, and he licked his nose and said, “Give me some more!”
But Shulo answered, “Anybody who tastes this would have to
be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.” Mphofu too was
willing to be tied up for another taste of the honey, so Shulo
bound him, all four hoofs, and then he not only drank his fill at
the well but bathed in the water and muddied it and ran away
home.

So it happened every night, and always Shulo carried full
calabashes home to his kraal and all through the drought his
family had plenty to drink.

At last it came the Tortoise’s turn to watch by the well, but
instead of waiting on the bank, wise Hamba the Tortoise went
down into the water and lay quietly at the bottom. When Shulo
saw that there was no one at the well, he laughed to himself
and said, “So they have given it up! And the well is mine without
any work and without any digging.” So he set his calabashes
out on the rim of the well and he jumped into the water. But
no sooner was he in than Hamba, who was lying quietly on
the bottom, opened his mouth and snapped at Shulo’s foot. He

230 |

caught Shulo and held him tight so that he could not move.
When Shulo saw the fix that he was in, he said, “Is that you,
Hamba? I’ve got something so sweet that I'll let you have a
taste if you want some.” He hoped that Hamba would open his
mouth and let go of the Hare’s foot. But Hamba never said a
word. He held Shulo tight and fast till the daylight came, and
when the other animals came to the well for their morning
drink, there was Shulo caught at last.

They bound him and they took him before Mphontholo the
ion to be judged. Mphontholo said, “You would not help to
ig the well, but night after night you have stolen the water

ie.” And the Hare said, “Oh Mphontholo, oh King! If | must

L
d
and made the well all muddy for the other animals. You must
d
die, grant me first one little request. Let me sing just one little

song, let me dance just one little dance before my death.” The

King thought, “There can be no harm in that, for all the animals
will sit around in a circle and watch Shulo so that he cannot
escape.” So the Lion was merciful and granted Shulo his wish.

Then the Hare began to sing and clap his hands and he
danced and sang:

Nandi Shulo kupembela-u

Novi yalin?

Mangwan!
Hi, oh Hare, going away,
Returning when?
Tomorrow!

lwe Shulo kupembela-u

Novi yalin?

Mangwan!
You, O Hare, going away,
Returning when?
Tomorrow!

| 231

Kuti Shulo wapembela-u

Wozvi yalin?

Mangwan!
If, O Hare, going away,
Returning when?
Tomorrow!

Now the other animals, seeing Shulo dance, began to beat
time to the music and to clap too, and soon they began to sing
with Shulo, for it was a most irresistible song! And soon their
feet began to move because they could not keep still with all
the singing and clapping, and in a little while all the animals
were dancing. Because of the drought, the earth was so dry
that a thick cloud of dust arose from all those dancing feet, and
when the animals stopped dancing, tired out — for it was a fine
dance! — they could not see one another for the dust.

And when the dust cleared, where was Shulo? He had run
away!

232 |

122
From the Folk-Tale
“How the Animals Dug Their Well”
Song I
The Animals’ Dance-Song
Not fast i -72)

ate —- aa =z

Chi - nya an fe le-ka nije, = - nya ie nje-le-ka nije,

Chi -
I’m com-ing jog-gy-jog trot, I’m com-ing jog-gy-jog trot, I’m

; Faster (¢:96)
spoken) [3 1 ier
= ee § 4

>? >
—— |
nya nje-nje-le-ka nje, ku- pu-tu, ku-pu-tu, bu-ku -ta age = li!
com-ing jog-gy-jog trot, ku - pu-tu, ku-pu-tu, the dust is

fly - ing!
Ti no Iu kanda kuna Va Njou!
Spoken: ; 8
Se eiey give my place to you, Sir Elephant! etc.
* The h is an aspirate; “

ph” in the African dialect is not pronounced “f} as in English, but
like p followed by an aspirate h.

Song II
The Hare’s Dance-Song

Very light and quick (= 468)

Hanacleps 3° fob} do ib de dog db br, g
Sesame, » DSSS

Shu-lo ku-pe- Ler -lau no- vya lin’? Maxgwan!
(See next page for English version.)

= d io pa eee

Shu - lo

-bbrtheyeb bss
Sen =]

ku-pe - mbe-lau no- vya lin’?_

Ma-ngwan!

(Sung an indefinite number of times)
* The hand-clapping is only used for dancing, never when the song is sung by a story-teller
as part of the narrated tale.

** When sung a second time, substitute for the word “‘na‘ndi” the word“iwe? When sung a
third time, substitute the word ‘ku’tiy and for “nov'ya”, substitute “woze'ya’
29234

| 233

123

The Hare’s Dance-Song

(English Paraphrase.)

Very light and quick (= 168)
Hand-claps

dab bs hss 3
So ee ees

Hi, O Hare, go-ing a-way, re - turn-ing when?_

(used only for
dancing.)

aoe Eee seen as do
aes =

T’- mor - row! You, Hare, go-ing a -way, re -

2 eS aS ee 40

{SS SS SS

turn - ing when?

T*mor - row!

é =

Hare, go-ing a-way, re - turn-ing when?__ T2mor-row!

29234

234 |

20. Death of the Hare

[From Songs and Tales from the Dark Continent by

Natalie Curtis Burlin, C. Kamba Simango, and Madikane
Cele, 1920. See item #41 in the Bibliography,]

One day Shulo the Hare was visiting Jongwe the Rooster’s
home and he saw the Rooster standing on one leg. His other
leg was gone, and his head was gone, too! The Hare was so
astonished that he stood stock-still, and then ran home and
told his wife.

Next day he went to see the Rooster again. But the Rooster
was up in atree, and his head was there again and so were both
his legs.

The Hare was still more astonished, and he said, “When | saw
you yesterday, your head was gone and you had only one leg.”

“Oh,” said the Rooster, “that’s nothing! My head and my leg
went visiting. They went off to another kraal, and we had
singing and beer-drinking. | often enjoy myself that way
without trouble. | tell my wife to cut off my head and my leg,
and then my head and leg go visiting and have a good time. It
is very easy.”

So the Hare thought, “I’m going to try that, too! If Jongwe can
do that, why can't I?”

So he ran home and told his wife. “Wife, take a sharp knife
and cut off my head and my leg so that they can go visiting
like the Rooster’s. | saw Jongwe again today, and his head and
leg were on again, and he told me that they had been away
to another kraal, dancing and singing and drinking beer. Now |
want my head and leg to do the same, so cut them off!”

“But if | cut off your head,” said the wife, “you will die!”

“No, | won't,” said Shulo, the Hare. “Jongwe is not dead. | saw
him one day with his head and leg gone, and | saw him the next
day with his head and leg on again. You do what | say.”

| 235

So the wife took a sharp knife and cut off the Hare’s leg and
then his head. She waited for the head and leg to fly off visiting,
but they never moved. And there lay Shulo the Hare, dead.

So she ran to the Rooster’s kraal.

“My husband is dead!” she cried. “What shall | do? His leg and
his head have never gone visiting at all! How shall | put them
on again and bring him to life?”

Then Jongwe the Rooster laughed to himself, for he knew
that his own head and leg had never been cut off. He had only
drawn his leg up under him to rest it while he went to sleep,
and as for his head, he had simply tucked it under his wing.
The visits he had had were pleasant dreams of singing and beer
drinking in other kraals.

236 |

21. Cunning Rabbit and
His Well

[From Cunnie Rabbit, Mr. Spider, and the Other Beef:
West African Folk Tales by Florence Cronise and Henry
W. Ward, 1903. See item #63 in the Bibliography. The
illustration is by Gerald Sichel, correctly showing “cunnie
rabbit” as a tiny antelope. You might prepare for this
story by reading a version in literary English by Virginia
Hamilton: “Cunnie Rabbit and Spider Make a Match”
(see #100 in the Bibliography). After reading the story
in literary English, it will be easier to read the pidgin

version here.]

| 237

Long tem, Cunnie Rabbit en all dem beef bin gadder. Den
meet up to one place fo’ talk palaver, because de country dry
too much. Dey no get one grain wattah sotay all man wan’ fo’
die. Dey all get word fo’ talk, fom de big beef to de small, but
nobody no able fo’ fine sense fo’ pull dem f’om dis yeah big
trouble.

Cunnie Rabbit he no bin say notting, he jus’ listen wey dem
beef talk; he t’ink say, “Wey ting | go do fo’ get wattah?”

Bimeby he grap, he go home, he begin fo’ dig well. He dig,
he dig, he dig. De wattah come plenty. He drink sotay he done
satisfy.

Now dem beef hearee dat Cunnie Rabbit get well. Spider he
grap fo’ go walker to Cunnie Rabbit. He say, “Fren’, we no get
one grain wattah fo’ drink, we go die. Make yo’ gie we.”

Cunnie Rabbit tell um, he say, “De pusson wey wan’ make me
gie um wattah, make he come fet me.”

Spider say, “All ret.”

Now Spider en Cunnie Rabbit dey fet. Cunnie Rabbit hase
Spider up to dah sky. He come down, he lay down flat. He grap,
he hase Cunnie Rabbit up. Cunnie Rabbit go to de sky; he blow
one horn wey he hole nah he han’. W’en he blow um, dark
come, w’en he blow um agin, do’ clean. He fa’ down, he grip
de wuld, VIP! He han’ long, dey go inside de groun’. Cunnie
Rabbit get up back, he hase Spider up. One rainy season, one
dry season he stay ‘pon top de sky. W’en he come down, w’en
he too fa’ down ‘pon de groun’, he say, “Ee! Ee! Ee! Fren’, | no
able agin.” Den he shake Cunnie Rabbit he han’; he say, “Oonah
‘trong man.”

Dem beef all come, dey try, dey no able. Elephan’ come, he
say, “Wey de man wey say he de mos’ ‘trong? Make he come
one tem, make we fet, so | go take wattah. | too t’irst.”

Cunnie Rabbit come, he boas’, he say, “Nar me dis.”

Elephan’ take he long mout’, he wrap Cunnie Rabbit, he wrap
um ‘trong. He fling um, turn, turn um, he hebe um up, so he
jam to de sky. De sweat wey he bin sweat, dat nar de hair

238 |

‘pon heen skin. Cunnie Rabbit come, he ‘tan’ up, he hase de
Elephan’ up.

Elephan’ heen long mout’ come nah groun’, he wrap den
‘tick fo’ hole hese’f, he broke um w’en he go up. He say, “Cunnie
Rabbit wey leelee so, nar he do me so?”

He hole Cunnie Rabbit wid heen long mout’ agin, he drag
um, he make big noise ‘pon de groun’ w’en he drag um. He pin
Cunnie Rabbit down; den fet, den fet, den fet. De place wey den
fet he big pass dis town, he double um four tem fo’ big. Dey
fet tay fiah ketch dah place. Dah one wey box he cumpin, fiah
ketch; dah odder one wey box he cumpin, fiah ketch. De place
he bu’'n clean, so-so san’-san’ lef’ no mo’.

Well, dem beef dey all duh try, dey no know how fo’ do. Dey all
go make bargain. All dem beef dey pull plenty clo’es, so plenty
dey done full dis town heah, dey full Freetown. En dis yeah
clo’es dey gie um all to Cunnie Rabbit. Dey say, “Do; ef yo’ no gie
we wattah we go die.”

Cunnie Rabbit say, “All ret. Make all man take one one cup
wattah drink.’

But de bargain dis. Ef de pusson no done all, he fo’ take one
piece clot’ en gie um to Cunnie Rabbit, en say, “Dis nar fo’ de
wattah weh | wais.” De cup he cover dis whole town, he cover
‘Merica, he cover Englan’, he cover Freetown fo’ big oh!”

Now Elephan’ say, “Make me fus’ drink.”

He take de cup, he full um nah well. He put heen long mout
inside so, he draw de wattah; he draw um, he draw um, he draw
um sotay he done um. Lepped say, “Make me come try.” Dey
full de cup, Lepped he drink, he drink, he drink sotay he done
de wattah. De beef all drink, dey all done um. Den leelee beef
dey done de wattah inside de big cup. Dey all no able fo’ go
agin. Fo’ walker go home dem no able, but den able fo’ grap
cook. Dey cook big, big, big ress. De pot fo’ cook de ress —
Lie man say de pot big lek dis whole town heah, Grimah all,
Moshengo all. Well, me wey no duh lie, | no lie anyt’ing, | jus’ put
leelee salt fo’ make he sweet, | say he big lek all Ternne country,

| 239

all white man country, double all two, | put half ‘pon um agin
en mo’ town, so de pot big.

Dey yeat dah ress, goat all, cow all, fowl, sheep, all dem
elephan’, dey yeat dah ress.

One big, big wattah spread ‘pon dem all, dey all no know
which side he come out. De ashes f’om de fiah he spread ‘pon
dem beef all. Well, dey all swim, dey all go to dem yown home.
One tem beef all bin white, but since w’en de ashes bin deh
‘pon dem long tem, some kin red, some kin brown, some black,

some spot-spot.

240 |

22. A Ghost Story

used here, see the vocabulary listing in the book.

Something important to know: a “die pusson” is a “dead
person,” i.e. a ghost.]

One tem one country bin deh. Dem people wey get dis country,
dey lek fo’ dance Wongko. Well, odder people f’om odder
country kin come dance wid um. Well, dem people wey come
out fom de odder country fo’ dance, dey all get fren’, so w’en
dey wan’ fo’ go back to den place, den fren’ kin follow um leelee
way, go lef den nah road. So dey bin do all de tem.

But one ooman bin deh, he lek he fren’ too much. One day
w'en den ‘tranger come dance nah de town, w’en dey go back,
all man go lef he fren’ nah road. W’en dey duh go, one dog
go wid dem nah road. Dey done go leelee far, den some of
dem young man, dem tell den fren’ “Goodbye,” dem say, “we
go meet nex’ moon.”

Some of dem ooman go back, but some tell den fren’, say,
“Anyway wey yo’ go nah wuld, we all go go; ef now yo’ die, we
all go die.”

Well, w’en dey go far agin, dey reach to one big, big valley.
Now all den man dey tell den fren’ wey bin say dey go die wid
um, dey say, “Oonah go back. W’en de nex’ moon kin white, we
go come agin.”

So dey all go back. But one no go, he say he mus’ follow sotay
he reach dah place wey he fren’ bin lib. De dog deh wid de
ooman.

Dah man tell de ooman, he say, “Go back!” De ooman say,
“No!”

| 241

De man say, “I lek yo’ too much, lef nah town. W’en | come
back | go come to yo’, but no follow me to dah place wey we
duh go.”

Dah ooman say, “I go go!”

Well, dis ooman no know say dis man nar die pusson, oh!
W’en dey kin get dance nah town, den die pusson all, dey kin
come out den grabe, dey come dance wid dem people, but
dem people nebber know quick fo’ say dey bin die pusson. But
w'en dey know, dey tell all de ooman, dey say, “W’en pusson
come out far country, come dance, oonah no mus’ go wid um;
sometem bimeby dey die pusson, yo’ no know.”

Dis girl too, dey bin tell um, say, “Die pusson kin come out de
grabe fo’ dance, so no get fren’ wey come out far ‘way.” But de
ooman he get ‘tronger yase, en he get dis heah die pusson fo’
fren’.

W’en dey done go sotay den odder die pusson done los’, den
gone to de grabe, but de one man lef’. He en dis girl den go to
heen town, but de ooman no know say dis die man town. W’en
dey go, dey reach nah net, but den jus’ meet one ho’se nah de
place.

Well, de girl see de place white, no mo’, because soso die
pusson wey get white clo’es bin deh. Well, de man done los’
fiom he han’, en dis ooman he dey inside de one ho’se. Den die
pusson jus’ come curse um, suck teet’ ‘pon um, no mo’, but de
ooman done ‘fraid, he no get nobody. He see white clo’es, no
mo’; den come suck teet’, den los’ agin; he hearee um, he no
see pusson.

But oonah no know dog get witch yi? He duh see den die
people heah, he begin fo’ holler ‘oon dem fo’ make dem go
back. Well, dis dog yeah he turn pusson, he ax de coman, he
say, “Ef | pull yo’ fom dis trouble yeah, ef yo’ go home, yo’ cook
fo’ yo’ fren’, en | go tief all de ress en de fis’ — ef yo’ call me dog
yo’ go die.” He no wan’ de girl call um dog, because he done
turn pusson.

242 |

A GHOST STORY.

| 243

De girl ‘gree, he say, “Come go, kare me back.” De dog done
turn dog agin, so he able fo’ holler ‘pon dem die pusson. He
‘tan’ up befo’, wen dem die pusson come, he holler ‘oon dem,
en dem go back.

Well, Wen dis girl en dis dog go far nah road, dey no know
de country, den meet one big, big wattah, den no know how
fo’ cross um, en de dog say, “Come, lay down ‘pon me back.” So
de girl lay down, en de dog cross um over dah big, big wattah.
W’en dey done cross de ooman tell de dog ‘Tankee, tankee.’
Long tem he tankee um.

Well, den de dog say, “I ‘gree fo’ de tankee, but yo’ no mus’
call me name dog, oh! w’en yo’ go to de town, oh! but yo’ fo’ gie
me odder fine name lek pusson.” He no wan’ turn pusson w’en
he reach de town, because de people go ax de girl, “Which side
de dog done go, wey bin follow yo’?”

Well, dah dog kare de ooman sotay dey done reach nah
home. De ooman tell he people all dah trouble wey he see, he
say, “Dah t’ing wey follow we two, so, he sabe me,” but he no
call he name dog.

Well, dis girl people kin do dis dog good. No matter fo’ de
people ef dey call um dog, but only de girl no mus’ call um dog.
Well, one day dah ooman cook fine sweet ress fo’ he fren’, not
fo’ de die pusson, but odder fren’ in de town. W’en he done
cook um, w’en he go call he fren’ fo’ come yeat dah ress, w’en
he come back he meet dah t’ing done yeat um. He no talk
anyt’ing, he go cook odder ress, he gie he fren’. Well, dah dog
duh yeat de ress wey de girl cook, all de tem.

One day he done vex ‘pon de dog. He cook one fine ress wid
fat beef fo’ he good fren’ nah de town. Well, w’en he go call he
fren’, he meet dah dog done yeat dah sweet, sweet ress, en he
lay down close de bow! wey he done yeat. Dah ooman vex, he
say, “Dah dog tief me ress all de tem, look how he come tief me
ress wey | cook fo’ me fren’.” Wen de girl call um dog, de dog
look um, en de girl fa’ down, he die. Story done.

244 |

23. The Hunter and His
Friends

[From Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria by
Elphinstone Dayrell, 1910. See item #67 in the
Bibliography. The photo of metal currency from Nigeria

comes from the Smithsonian National Museum_ of
African Art.]

Many years ago there was a Calabar hunter called Effiong
who lived in the bush, killed plenty of animals, and made much
money. Everyone in the country knew him, and one of his best
friends was a man called Okun, who lived near him.

But Effiong was very extravagant and spent much money
in eating and drinking with everyone, until at last he became
quite poor, so he had to go out hunting again, but now his
good luck seemed to have deserted him, for although he
worked hard and hunted day and night, he could not succeed
in killing anything.

| 245

One day, as he was very hungry, he went to his friend Okun
and borrowed two hundred rods from him and told him to
come to his house on a certain day to get his money, and he
told him to bring his gun, loaded, with him.

Now, some time before this Effiong had made friends with a
leopard and a bush cat whom he had met in the forest whilst
on one of his hunting expeditions, and he had also made
friends with a goat and a rooster at a farm where he had stayed
for the night. But though Effiong had borrowed the money
from Okun, he could not think how he was to repay it on the
day he had promised. At last, however, he thought of a plan,
and on the next day he went to his friend the leopard and
asked him to lend him two hundred rods, promising to return
the amount to him on the same day as he had promised to
pay Okun, and he also told the leopard that if he were absent
when he came for his money, he could kill anything he saw in
the house and eat it. The leopard was then to wait until the
hunter arrived, when he would pay him the money, and to this
the leopard agreed.

The hunter then went to his friend the goat and borrowed
two hundred rods from him in the same way. Effiong also went
to his friends the bush cat and the rooster, and borrowed two
hundred rods from each of them on the same conditions, and
told each one of them that if he were absent when they arrived,
they could kill and eat anything they found about the place.

When the appointed day arrived the hunter spread some
corn on the ground, and then went away and left the house
deserted. Very early in the morning, soon after he had begun
to crow, the rooster remembered what the hunter had told him
and walked over to the hunter’s house, but found no one there.
On looking round, however, he saw some corn on the ground
and, being hungry, he commenced to eat.

About this time the bush cat also arrived and, not finding the
hunter at home, he too looked about and very soon he espied
the rooster, who was busy picking up the grains of corn. So

246 |

the bush cat went up very softly behind, and pounced on the
rooster, and killed him at once, and began to eat him.

By this time the goat had come for his money, but not
finding his friend, he walked about until he came upon the
bush cat, who was so intent upon his meal off the rooster that
he did not notice the goat approaching, and the goat, being in
rather a bad temper at not getting his money, at once charged
at the bush cat and knocked him over, butting him with his
horns. This the bush cat did not like at all, so, as he was not
big enough to fight the goat, he picked up the remains of the
rooster and ran off with it to the bush, and so lost his money as
he did not await the arrival of the hunter.

The goat was thus left master of the situation and started
bleating, and this noise attracted the attention of the leopard,
who was on his way to receive payment from the hunter. As
the leopard got nearer, the smell of goat became very strong
and, being hungry, for he had not eaten anything for some
time, he approached the goat very carefully. Not seeing anyone
about, he stalked the goat and got nearer and nearer until he
was within springing distance. The goat, in the meantime, was
grazing quietly, quite unsuspicious of any danger as he was in
his friend the hunter’s compound. Now and then he would say,
“Baaaa!” But most of the time he was busy eating the young
grass and picking up the leaves which had fallen from a tree
of which he was very fond. Suddenly the leopard sprang at the
goat and, with one crunch at the neck, brought him down. The
goat was dead almost at once, and the leopard started on his
meal.

It was now about eight o'clock in the morning, and Okun,
the hunter’s friend, having had his early morning meal, went
out with his gun to receive payment of the two hundred rods
he had lent to the hunter. When he got close to the house,
he heard a crunching sound, and, being a hunter himself, he
approached very cautiously and, looking over the fence, saw
the leopard only a few yards off busily engaged eating the goat.

| 247

He took careful aim at the leopard and fired, whereupon the
leopard rolled over dead.

The death of the leopard meant that four of the hunter’s
creditors were now disposed of, as the bush cat had killed
the rooster, the goat had driven the bush cat away (who thus
forfeited his claim), and in his turn the goat had been killed by
the leopard, who had just been slain by Okun. This meant a
saving of eight hundred rods to Effiong, but he was not content
with this, and directly he heard the report of the gun, he ran
out from where he had been hiding all the time and found the
leopard lying dead with Okun standing over it.

Then in very strong language Effiong began to upbraid his
friend and asked Okun why he had killed his old friend the
leopard, saying that nothing would satisfy him but that he
should report the whole matter to the king, who would no
doubt deal with Okun as he thought fit.

When Effiong said this, Okun was frightened and begged
him not to say anything more about the matter as the king
would be angry, but the hunter was obdurate and refused to
listen to him, and at last Okun said, “If you will allow the whole
thing to drop and will say no more about it, | will make you a
present of the two hundred rods you borrowed from me.” This
was just what Effiong wanted, but still he did not give in at
once; eventually, however, he agreed, and told Okun he might
go, and that he would bury the body of his friend the leopard.

Directly Okun had gone, instead of burying the body, Effiong
dragged it inside the house and skinned it very carefully. The
skin he put out to dry in the sun and covered it with wood ash,
and the body he ate. When the skin was well cured, the hunter
took it to a distant market where he sold it for much money.

And now, whenever a bush cat sees a rooster he always kills
it, and does so by right, as he takes the rooster in part payment
of the two hundred rods which the hunter never paid him.

248 |

24. Of the Fat Woman
who Melted Away

[From Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria by
Elphinstone Dayrell, 1910. See item #67 in the
Bibliography.]

There was once a very fat woman who was made of oil. She was
very beautiful, and many young men applied to the parents
for permission to marry their daughter and offered dowry, but
the mother always refused as she said it was impossible for her
daughter to work on a farm because she would melt in the sun.

At last a stranger came from a far-distant country and fell in
love with the fat woman, and he promised if her mother would
hand her to him that he would keep her in the shade. At last
the mother agreed, and he took his wife away.

When he arrived at his house, his other wife immediately
became very jealous because when there was work to be done,
firewood to be collected, or water to be carried, the fat woman
stayed at home and never helped, as she was frightened of the
heat.

One day when the husband was absent, the jealous wife
abused the fat woman so much that she finally agreed to go
and work on the farm, although the fat woman's little sister,
whom she had brought from home with her, implored her not
to go, reminding her that their mother had always told them
ever since they were born that she would melt away if she went
into the sun.

All the way to the farm, the fat woman managed to keep in
the shade, and when they arrived at the farm, the sun was very
hot, so the fat woman remained in the shade of a big tree.

| 249

When the jealous wife saw this, she again began abusing her
and asked her why she did not do her share of the work. At
last the fat woman could stand the nagging no longer, and
although her little sister tried very hard to prevent her, she
went out into the sun to work and immediately began to melt
away. There was very soon nothing left of her but one big toe,
which had been covered by a leaf. This her little sister observed
and, with tears in her eyes, she picked up the toe, which was
all that remained of the fat woman and, having covered it
carefully with leaves, she placed it in the bottom of her basket.

When she arrived at the house, the little sister placed the toe
in an earthen pot, filled it with water, and covered the top up
with clay.

When the husband returned, he said, “Where is my fat wife?”
and the little sister, crying bitterly, told him that the jealous
woman had made her go out into the sun and that she had
melted away.

She then showed him the pot with the remains of her sister
and told him that her sister would come to life again in three
months’ time quite complete, but he must send away the
jealous wife so that there should be no more trouble; if he
refused to do this, the little girl said she would take the pot
back to their mother, and when her sister became complete
again, they would remain at home.

The husband then took the jealous wife back to her parents,
who sold her as a slave and paid the dowry back to the
husband so that he could get another wife.

When he received the money, the husband took it home and
kept it until the three months had elapsed; then the little sister
opened the pot and the fat woman emerged, quite as fat and
beautiful as she had been before.

The husband was so delighted that he gave a feast to all his
friends and neighbours and told them the whole story of the
bad behaviour of his jealous wife.

250 |

25. The Leopard, the
Squirrel, and the
Tortoise

[From Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria by
Elphinstone Dayrell, 1910. See item #67 in the
Bibliography.]

Many years ago there was a great famine throughout the land,
and all the people were starving. The yam crop had failed
entirely, the plantains did not bear any fruit, the peanuts were
all shriveled up, and the corn never came to a head; even the
palm-oil nuts did not ripen, and the peppers and okra also gave
out.

The leopard, however, who lived entirely on meat, did not
care for any of these things, and although some of the animals
who lived on corn and the growing crops began to get rather
skinny, he did not mind very much. In order to save himself
trouble, as everybody was complaining of the famine, he called
a meeting of all the animals and told them that, as they all
knew, he was very powerful and must have food; that the
famine did not affect him, as he only lived on flesh; and that as
there were plenty of animals about, he did not intend to starve.
He then told all the animals present at the meeting that if
they did not wish to be killed themselves, they must bring their
grandmothers to him for food, and when they were finished,
he would feed off their mothers. The animals might bring their
grandmothers in succession and he would take them in their
turn so that, as there were many different animals, it would
probably be some time before their mothers were eaten, by
which time it was possible that the famine would be over. But

| 251

in any case, he warned them that he was determined to have
sufficient food for himself, and that if the grandmothers or
mothers were not forthcoming, he would turn upon the young
people themselves and kill and eat them.

This, of course, the young generation who had attended the
meeting did not appreciate and, in order to save their own
skins, they agreed to supply the leopard with his daily meal.

The first to appear with his aged grandmother was the
squirrel. The grandmother was a poor decrepit old thing with
a mangy tail, and the leopard swallowed her at one gulp and
then looked round for more. In an angry voice he growled out,
“This is not the proper food for me; | must have more at once.”

Then a bush cat pushed his old grandmother in front of the
leopard, but he snarled at her and said, “Take the nasty old
thing away; | want some sweet food.”

It was then the turn of a bushbuck and, after a great deal of
hesitation, a wretchedly poor and thin old doe tottered and fell
in front of the leopard, who immediately despatched her, and
although the meal was very unsatisfactory, he declared that his
appetite was appeased for that day.

The next day a few more animals brought their old
grandmothers, until at last it became the tortoise’s turn but,
being very cunning, he produced witnesses to prove that his
grandmother was dead, so the leopard excused him.

After a few days all the animals’ grandmothers were
exhausted, and it became the turn of the mothers to supply
food for the ravenous leopard. Now although most of the
young animals did not mind getting rid of their grandmothers,
whom they had scarcely even known, many of them had very
strong objections to providing their mothers, of whom they
were very fond, as food for the leopard. Amongst the strongest
objectors were the squirrel and the tortoise.

The tortoise, who had thought the whole thing out, was
aware that, as everyone knew that his mother was alive (she
being rather an amiable old person and friendly with all-

252 |

comers), the same excuse would not avail him a second time.
He therefore told his mother to climb up a palm tree and that
he would provide her with food until the famine was over. He
instructed her to let down a basket every day and said that he
would place food in it for her. The tortoise made the basket
for his mother, and attached it to a long string of tie-tie. The
string was so strong that she could haul her son up whenever
he wished to visit her.

All went well for some days as the tortoise used to go at
daylight to the bottom of the tree where his mother lived and
place her food in the basket; then the old lady would pull the
basket up and have her food, and the tortoise would depart on
his daily round in his usual leisurely manner.

In the meantime, the leopard had to have his daily food,
and the squirrel’s turn came first after the grandmothers had
been finished, so he was forced to produce his mother for the
leopard to eat as he was a poor, weak thing and not possessed
of any cunning. The squirrel was, however, very fond of his
mother, and when she had been eaten, he remembered that
the tortoise had not produced his grandmother for the
leopard’s food. He therefore determined to set a watch on the
movements of the tortoise.

The very next morning, while he was gathering nuts, he saw
the tortoise walking very slowly through the bush and, being
high up in the trees and able to travel very fast, the squirrel
had no difficulty in keeping the tortoise in sight without being
noticed. When the tortoise arrived at the foot of the tree where
his mother lived, he placed the food in the basket which his
mother had let down already by the tie-tie and, having got
into the basket and given a pull at the string to signify that
everything was right, he was hauled up and, after a time, was
let down again in the basket. The squirrel was watching all the
time and, directly after the tortoise had gone, he jumped from
branch to branch of the trees and very soon arrived at the place
where the leopard was snoozing.

| 253

When the leopard woke up, the squirrel said, “You have eaten
my grandmother and my mother, but the tortoise has not
provided any food for you. It is now his turn, and he has hidden
his mother away in a tree.”

At this the leopard was very angry and told the squirrel to
lead him at once to the tree where the tortoise’s mother lived.
But the squirrel said, “The tortoise only goes at daylight when
his mother lets down a basket, so if you go in the morning early,
she will pull you up, and you can then kill her.”

To this the leopard agreed, and the next morning the squirrel
came at cockcrow and led the leopard to the tree where the
tortoise’s mother was hidden. The old lady had already let
down the basket for her daily supply of food, and the leopard
got into it and gave the line a pull but, except a few small jerks,
nothing happened, as the old mother tortoise was not strong
enough to pull a heavy leopard off the ground.

When the leopard saw that he was not going to be pulled
up, he scrambled up the tree, being an expert climber. When
he got to the top, he found the poor old tortoise whose shell
was so tough that he thought she was not worth eating, so he
threw her down on to the ground in a violent temper, and then
he came down himself and went home.

Shortly after this, the tortoise arrived at the tree and, finding
the basket on the ground, he gave his usual tug at it, but there
was no answer. He then looked about, and after a little time
he came upon the broken shell of his poor old mother, who by
this time was quite dead. The tortoise knew at once that the
leopard had killed his mother, and he made up his mind that
for the future he would live alone and have nothing to do with
the other animals.

254 |

26. The Spider and
Nzambi's Daughter

[From Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort by Richard
Dennett, 1898. See item #68 in the Bibliography. The
photograph of a Nzambi carving is from the Brooklyn

Museum at Wikimedia Commons.]

| 255

Nzambi-on-Earth had a beautiful daughter, but she swore
that no earthly being should marry her unless he could bring
her the heavenly fire from Nzambi Mpungu, who dwelt in the
heavens above the blue roof. And as Nzambi’s daughter was
very fair to look upon, the people marveled, saying, “How shall
we secure this treasure? And who on such a condition will ever
marry her?”

Then the spider said, “I will, if you will help me.”

And they all answered, “We will gladly help you if you will
reward us.”

Then the spider reached the blue roof of heaven and
dropped down again to the earth, leaving a strong silken
thread firmly hanging from the roof to the earth below. Then
he called the tortoise, the woodpecker, the rat, and the sandfly,
and bade them climb up the thread to the roof. And they did
so. Then the woodpecker pecked a hole through the roof, and
they all entered the realm of the badly dressed Nzambi
Mpungu.

Nzambi Mpungu received them courteously and asked them
what they wanted up there. And they answered him, saying,
“O Nzambi Mpungu of the heavens above, great father of all
the world, we have come to fetch some of your terrible fire for
Nzambi who rules upon earth.”

“Wait here then,” said Nzambi Mpungu, “while | go to my
people and tell them of the message that you bring.”

But the sandfly, unseen, accompanied Nzambi Mpungu and
heard all that was said. And while he was gone, the others
wondered if it were possible for one who went about so poorly
clad to be so powerful.

Then Nzambi Mpungu returned to them and said, “My friend,
how can | know that you have really come from the ruler of the
earth, and that you are not impostors?”

“We are not!” they said. “Put us to some test that we may
prove our sincerity to you.”

256 |

“Twill,” said Nzambi Mpungu. “Go down to this earth of yours
and bring me a bundle of bamboos so that | may make myself
a shed.”

And the tortoise went down, leaving the others where they
were, and soon returned with the bamboos.

Then Nzambi Mpungu said to the rat, “Get beneath this
bundle of bamboos, and | will set fire to it. Then if you escape, |
shall surely know that Nzambi sent you.”

And the rat did as he was bidden. And Nzambi Mpungu
set fire to the bamboos, and lo — when they were entirely
consumed, the rat came from amidst the ashes unharmed.

Then Nzambi Mpungu said, “You are indeed what you
represent yourselves to be. | will go and consult my people
again.”

Then they sent the sandfly after him, bidding him to keep
well out of sight to hear all that was said and, if possible, to find
out where the lightning was kept. The sandfly returned and
related all that he had heard and seen.

Then Nzambi Mpungu returned to them and said, “Yes, | will
give you the fire you ask for, if you can tell me where it is kept.”

And the spider said, “Give me then, O Nzambi Mpungu, one
of the five cases that you keep in the chicken-house.”

“Truly you have answered me correctly, O spider! Take
therefore this case, and give it to your Nzambi.”

And the tortoise carried it down to the earth, and the spider
presented the fire from heaven to Nzambi, and Nzambi gave
the spider her beautiful daughter in marriage.

But the woodpecker grumbled and said, “Surely the woman
is mine, for it was | who pecked the hole through the roof,
without which the others never could have entered the
kingdom of the Nzambi Mpungu above.”

“Yes,” said the rat, “but see how | risked my life among the
burning bamboos; the girl, | think, should be mine.”

| 257

“No, O Nzambi! The girl should certainly be mine, for without
my help the others would never have found out where the fire
was kept,” said the sandfly.

Then Nzambi said, “No! The spider undertook to bring me the
fire, and he has brought it. The girl by rights is his — but as you
others will make her life miserable if | allow her to live with the
spider, and as | cannot give her to you all, | will give her to none,
but will give you each her market value.”

Nzambi then paid each of them fifty lengths of cloth and one
case of gin, and her daughter remained a maiden and waited
upon her mother for the rest of her days.

258 |

27. A Different Story
about Nzambi's
Daughter

[From Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort by Richard
Dennett, 1898. See item #68 in the Bibliography.]

Nzambi had a most beautiful daughter, and she took the
greatest care of her. As the child grew up, she was kept within
the house and never allowed to go outside, her mother alone
waiting upon her. And when she arrived at the age of puberty,
her mother determined to send her to a town a long way off
so that she might be undisturbed while she underwent her
purification in the paint-house.

She gave her child a slave, and these two left Nzambi’s town
for the distant place where the paint-house was situated.

“Oh, see there, slave! What is that?” said Nzambi’s daughter.

“Give me your anklets, and | will tell you,” answered the slave.
The daughter of Nzambi gave the slave the anklets. “That is a
snake.”

And then they walked along for some time, when suddenly
the daughter of Nzambi said, “Oh, slave, what is that?”

“Give me your two new cloths, and | will tell you.” Nzambi’s
daughter gave the slave the two cloths. “That is an antelope.”

They had not gone far when the daughter again noticed
something strange. “Slave, tell me what that thing is?”

“Give me your bracelets.” The girl gave the slave her bracelets.
“That thing is an eagle.”

The princess thought it wonderful that the slave should know
so much more than she did, and when she caught sight of a

| 259

thing rising gently from the ground, she turned to her again
and asked, “And what is that?

“Give me your coral necklace.” The girl gave the slave the
coral. “That is a butterfly.”

The next time she asked the slave for information, the slave
made her change her clothes with her, so that while she was
nearly naked, the slave was dressed most beautifully. And in
this fashion they arrived at their destination and delivered their
message to the prince.

After the proper preparations, they placed the slave in the
paint-house with all the ceremony due to a princess, and they
set the daughter of Nzambi to mind the plantations. In her
innocence and ignorance, the daughter of Nzambi at first
thought all this was in order and part of what she had to go
through, but in a very short time she began to realize her
position and to grieve about it. She used to sing plaintive songs
as she minded the maize of how she had been mistaken for
a slave while her slave was honoured as a princess. And the
people thought her mad.

But one day a trade-caravan passed her, and she asked the
trader where he was going, and he answered, “To Nzambi’s
town.”

“Will you then take a message to Nzambi for me?”

The trader gladly assented.

“Then tell her that her daughter is as a slave watching the
plantations, while the slave is in the paint-house.”

He repeated the message and, when she had said that it was
correct, he went on his way and delivered it to Nzambi.

Nzambi and her husband immediately set out in their
hammock, accompanied by many followers, for the town
where she had sent her daughter. And when she arrived, she
was greatly shocked to see her daughter in that mean position
and would have punished the prince, had she not seen that he
and his people were not to blame.

260 |

They called upon the slave to come out of the paint-house.
But she was afraid and would not come out. Then they entered
and, having stripped her of all her borrowed finery, they shut
her within the house and burnt her.

| 261

28. The Rabbit and the
Antelope

[From Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort by Richard
Dennett, 1898. See item #68 in the Bibliography.]

It was during an almost rainless hot season when all who had
no wells were beginning to feel the pangs of thirst that the
rabbit and the antelope formed a partnership to dig a deep
well so that they could never be in want of water.

“Let us finish our food,” said the antelope, “and be off to our
work.”

“No!” said the rabbit. “Had we not better keep the food for
later on, when we are tired and hungry after our work?”

“Very well, hide the food, rabbit, and let us go to work; | am
very thirsty.”

They arrived at the place where they purposed having the
well and worked hard for a short time.

“Listen!” said the rabbit. “They are calling me to go back to
town.”

“No, | do not hear them.”

“Yes, they are certainly calling me, and | must be off. My wife
is about to present me with some children, and | must name
them.”

“Go then, dear rabbit, but come back as soon as you can.”

The rabbit ran off to where he had hidden the food, and ate
some of it, and then went back to his work.

“Well,” said the antelope, “what have you called your little
one?”

“Not-Done-Yet,” said the rabbit.

“A strange name,” said the antelope.

Then they worked for a while.

262 |

“Again they are calling me,” cried the rabbit. “| must be off, so
please excuse me. Can't you hear them calling me?”

“No, said the antelope, “I hear nothing...”

Away ran the rabbit, leaving the poor antelope to do all the
work, while the rabbit ate some more of the food that really
belonged to them both. When he had had enough, he hid the
food again and ran back to the well.

“And what have you called your latest child, rabbit?”

“Half-Done-Now.”

“What a funny little fellow you are! But come, get on with the
digging; see how hard | have worked.”

Then they worked hard for quite a long time.

“Listen, now!” said the rabbit. “Surely you heard them calling
me this time!”

“No, dear rabbit, | can hear nothing, but go and get back
quickly.”

Away ran the rabbit, and this time he finished the food before
going back to his work.

“Well, little one, what have you called your third child?”

“All-Done,” answered the rabbit.

Then they worked hard, and as night was setting in, they
returned to their village.

“lam terribly tired, rabbit; run and get the food, or | shall
faint.”

The rabbit went to look for the food, and then, calling out to
the antelope, told him that some horrid cat must have been
there, as the food was all gone and the pot quite clean. The
antelope groaned and went hungry to bed.

The next day the naughty little rabbit played the antelope the
same trick. And the next day he again tricked the antelope. And
the next, and the next, until at last the antelope accused the
rabbit of stealing the food. Then the rabbit got angry and dared
him to take casca.

“We'll both take it,” said the antelope, “and let him whose tail
is the first to become wet be considered the guilty one.”

| 263

So they took the casca and went to bed. And as the medicine
began to take effect upon the rabbit, he cried out to the
antelope, “See, your tail is wet!”

“No, it is not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, but yours is, dear rabbit; see there!”

Then the rabbit feared greatly and tried to run away. But the
antelope said, “Fear not, rabbit; | will do you no harm. Only you
must promise not to drink of the water of my well and to leave
my company forever.”

Accordingly the rabbit left him and went his way.

Some time after this, a bird told the antelope that the rabbit
was drinking the water of the well every day. Then the antelope
was greatly enraged and determined to kill the rabbit. So the
antelope laid a trap for the silly little rabbit. He cut a piece of
wood and shaped it into the figure of an animal about the
size of the rabbit, and then he placed this figure firmly in the
ground near to the well and smeared it all over with bird-lime.

The rabbit went as usual to drink the waters of the well and
was much annoyed to find an animal there, as he thought,
drinking the water also.

“And what may you be doing here, sir?” said the rabbit to the
figure.

The figure answered not.

Then the rabbit, thinking that it was afraid of him, went close
up to it and again asked what he was doing there.

But the figure made no answer.

“What!” said the rabbit. “Do you mean to insult me? Answer
me at once, or | will strike you.”

The figure answered not.

Then the little rabbit lifted up his right hand and smacked
the figure in the face. His hand stuck to the figure.

“What's the matter?” said the rabbit. “Let my hand go, sir, at
once, or | will hit you again.”

The figure held fast to the rabbit’s right hand.

264 |

Then the rabbit hit the figure a swinging blow with his left.
The left hand stuck to the figure also.

“What can be the matter with you, sir? You are excessively
silly. Let my hands go at once, or | will kick you.”

And the rabbit kicked the figure with his right foot, but his
right foot stuck there. Then he got into a great rage and kicked
the figure with his left. And his left leg stuck to the figure also.
Then, overcome with rage, he bumped the figure with his head
and stomach, but these parts also stuck to the figure. Then the
rabbit cried with impotent rage.

The antelope, just about this time, came along to drink water,
and when he saw the rabbit helplessly fastened to the figure,
he laughed at him and then killed him.

| 265

29. Motikatika

[From African Folktales in the Fairy Books of Andrew
Lang, originally published in The Crimson Fairy Book
(1903), based on a story in Les Ba-Ronga: Etude
ethnographique sur les indigénes de la baie de
Delagoa by Henri Junod, 1898. See item #121 in the
Bibliography. The illustration is by Henry Justice Ford.]

THE WOMAN AND THE OGRE

266 |

Once upon a time, in a very hot country, a man lived with
his wife in a little hut which was surrounded by grass and
flowers. They were perfectly happy together till, by and by, the
woman fell ill and refused to take any food. The husband tried
to persuade her to eat all sorts of delicious fruits that he had
found in the forest, but she would have none of them, and she
grew so thin he feared she would die. “Is there nothing you
would like?” he said at last in despair.

“Yes, | think | could eat some wild honey,” answered she.
The husband was overjoyed, for he thought this sounded easy
enough to get, and he went off at once in search of it.

He came back with a wooden pan quite full of wild honey
and gave it to his wife. “I can’t eat that,” she said, turning away
in disgust. “Look! There are some dead bees in it! | want honey
that is quite pure.” And the man threw the rejected honey on
the grass and started off to get some fresh.

When he got back, he offered it to his wife, who treated it as
she had done the first bowlful. “That honey has got ants in it;
throw it away,” she said, and when he brought her some more,
she declared it was full of earth.

In his fourth journey he managed to find some that she
would eat, and then she begged him to get her some water.
This took him some time, but at length he came to a lake
whose waters were sweet. He filled a pannikin quite full and
carried it home to his wife, who drank it eagerly and said that
she now felt quite well.

When she was up and had dressed herself, her husband lay
down in her place, saying, “You have given me a great deal of
trouble, and now it is my turn!”

“What is the matter with you?” asked the wife.

“lam thirsty and want some water,” answered he, and she
took a large pot and carried it to the nearest spring, which was
a good way off. “Here is the water,” she said to her husband,
lifting the heavy pot from her head, but he turned away in
disgust.

| 267

“You have drawn it from the pool that is full of frogs and
willows; you must get me some more.” So the woman set out
again and walked still further to another lake.

“This water tastes of rushes,” he exclaimed. “Go and get some
fresh water.” But when she brought back a third supply he
declared that it seemed made up of water-lilies and that he
must have water that was pure, and not spoilt by willows, or
frogs, or rushes.

So for the fourth time she put her jug on her head and,
passing all the lakes she had hitherto tried, she came to
another where the water was golden and sweet. She had
stooped down to drink when a horrible head bobbed up on the
surface.

“How dare you steal my water!” cried the head.

“It is my husband who has sent me,” she replied, trembling
all over. “But do not kill me! You shall have my baby, if you will
only let me go.”

“How am | to know which is your baby?” asked the ogre.

“Oh, that is easily managed. | will shave both sides of his head
and hang some white beads round his neck. And when you
come to the hut, you have only to call ‘Motikatika!’ and he will
run to meet you, and you can eat him.”

“Very well,” said the ogre, “you can go home.” And, after filling
the pot, she returned and told her husband of the dreadful
danger she had been in.

Now, though his mother did not know it, the baby was a
magician, and he had heard all that his mother had promised
the ogre, and he laughed to himself as he planned how to
outwit her.

The next morning she shaved his head on both sides, and
hung the white beads round his neck, and said to him, “Il am
going to the fields to work, but you must stay at home. Be sure
you do not go outside, or some wild beast may eat you.”

“Very well,” answered he.

268 |

As soon as his mother was out of sight, the baby took out
some magic bones and placed them in a row before him. “You
are my father,” he told one bone, “and you are my mother.
You are the biggest,” he said to the third, “so you shall be the
ogre who wants to eat me, and you,” to another, “are very little;
therefore you shall be me. Now then, tell me what | am to do.”

“Collect all the babies in the village the same size as yourself,”
answered the bones. “Shave the sides of their heads, and hang
white beads round their necks, and tell them that when
anybody calls ‘Motikatika,” they are to answer to it. And be
quick, for you have no time to lose.”

Motikatika went out directly, and brought back quite a crowd
of babies, and shaved their heads, and hung white beads round
their little necks, and, just as he had finished, the ground began
to shake, and the huge ogre came striding along, crying,
“Motikatika! Motikatikal”

“Here we are! Here we are!” answered the babies, all running
to meet him.

“It is Motikatika | want,” said the ogre.

“We are all Motikatika,” they replied. And the ogre sat down in
bewilderment, for he dared not eat the children of people who
had done him no wrong, or a heavy punishment would befall
him. The children waited for a little, wondering, and then they
went away.

The ogre remained where he was till the evening when the
woman returned from the fields.

“| have not seen Motikatika,” said he.

“But why did you not call him by his name as | told you?” she
asked.

“| did, but all the babies in the village seemed to be named
Motikatika,” answered the ogre. “You cannot think the number
who came running to me.”

The woman did not know what to make of it, so, to keep him
in a good temper, she entered the hut and prepared a bow! of
maize, which she brought him.

| 269

“ldo not want maize; | want the baby,” grumbled he, “and |
will have him.”

“Have patience,” answered she. “I will call him, and you can
eat him at once.” And she went into the hut and cried,
“Motikatika!”

“lam coming, mother,” replied he, but first he took out his
bones and, crouching down on the ground behind the hut, he
asked them how he should escape the ogre.

“Change yourself into a mouse,” said the bones, and so he
did, and the ogre grew tired of waiting and told the woman she
must invent some other plan.

“Tomorrow | will send him into the field to pick some beans
for me, and you will find him there and can eat him.”

“Very well,” replied the ogre, “and this time | will take care to
have him,” and he went back to his lake.

Next morning Motikatika was sent out with a basket and told
to pick some beans for dinner. On the way to the field, he took
out his bones and asked them what he was to do to escape
from the ogre. “Change yourself into a bird and snap off the
beans,” said the bones. And the ogre chased away the bird, not
knowing that it was Motikatika.

The ogre went back to the hut and told the woman that she
had deceived him again and that he would not be put off any
longer.

“Return here this evening,” answered she, “and you will find
him in bed under this white coverlet. Then you can carry him
away and eat him at once.”

But the boy heard and consulted his bones, which said, “Take
the red coverlet from your father’s bed and put yours on his,”
and so he did. And when the ogre came, he seized Motikatika’s
father and carried him outside the hut and ate him.

When his wife found out the mistake, she cried bitterly, but
Motikatika said, “It is only just that he should be eaten and not
|, for it was he, and not |, who sent you to fetch the water.”

270 |

30. How Isuro the
Rabbit Tricked Gudu

[From African Folktales in the Fairy Books of Andrew
Lang, a Shona story originally published in The Orange
Fairy Book, 1906. See item #121 in the Bibliography. The
illustration is by Henry Justice Ford.]

GuUDU DROPS A STONE INTO THE WATER,

| 271

Far away in a hot country, where the forests are very thick
and dark and the rivers very swift and strong, there once lived a
strange pair of friends. Now one of the friends was a big rabbit
named Isuro, and the other was a tall baboon called Gudu, and
so fond were they of each other that they were seldom seen
apart.

One day, when the sun was hotter even than usual, the rabbit
awoke from his midday sleep and saw Gudu the baboon
standing beside him.

“Get up,” said Gudu. “Il am going courting, and you must
come with me. So put some food in a bag and sling it round
your neck, for we may not be able to find anything to eat fora
long while.”

Then the rabbit rubbed his eyes, and gathered a store of
fresh green things from under the bushes, and told Gudu that
he was ready for the journey.

They went on quite happily for some distance, and at last
they came to a river with rocks scattered here and there across
the stream.

“We can never jump those wide spaces if we are burdened
with food,” said Gudu. “We must throw it into the river, unless
we wish to fall in ourselves.” And stooping down, unseen by
Isuro who was in front of him, Gudu picked up a big stone and
threw it into the water with a loud splash.

“It is your turn now,” he cried to Isuro. And with a heavy sigh,
the rabbit unfastened his bag of food, which fell into the river.

The road on the other side led down an avenue of trees and,
before they had gone very far, Gudu opened the bag that lay
hidden in the thick hair about his neck and began to eat some
delicious-looking fruit.

“Where did you get that from?” asked Isuro enviously.

“Oh, | found after all that | could get across the rocks quite
easily, so it seemed a pity not to keep my bag,” answered Gudu.

272 |

“Well, as you tricked me into throwing away mine, you ought
to let me share with you,” said Isuro. But Gudu pretended not
to hear him and strode along the path.

By and by, they entered a wood, and right in front of them
was a tree so laden with fruit that its branches swept the
ground. And some of the fruit was still green, and some yellow.
The rabbit hopped forward with joy, for he was very hungry, but
Gudu said to him, “Pluck the green fruit; you will find it much
the best. | will leave it all for you, as you have had no dinner, and
take the yellow for myself.” So the rabbit took a green fruit and
began to bite it, but its skin was so hard that he could hardly
get his teeth through the rind.

“It does not taste at all nice,” he cried, screwing up his face. “I
would rather have one of the yellow ones.”

“No! No! | really could not allow that,” answered Gudu. “They
would only make you ill. Be content with the green fruit.” And
as the green ones were all he could get, Isuro was forced to put
up with them.

After this had happened two or three times, ISuro at last had
his eyes opened and made up his mind that, whatever Gudu
told him, he would do exactly the opposite.

By this time they had reached the village where dwelt Gudu’s
future wife, and, as they entered, Gudu pointed to a clump
of bushes and said to Isuro, “Whenever | am eating and you
hear me call out that my food has burnt me, run as fast as you
can and gather some of those leaves that they may heal my
mouth.”

The rabbit would have liked to ask him why he ate food that
he knew would burn him, only he was afraid and just nodded
in reply, but when they had gone on a little further, he said to
Gudu, “Il have dropped something; wait here a moment while |
go and fetch it.”

“Be quick then,” answered Gudu, climbing into a tree. And
the rabbit hastened back to the bushes and gathered a
quantity of the leaves, which he hid among his fur. “For,”

| 273

thought he, “if | get them now | shall save myself the trouble of
a walk by and by.”

When he had plucked as many as he wanted, he returned to
Gudu, and they went on together.

The sun was almost setting by the time they reached their
journey’s end and, being very tired, they gladly sat down by a
well. Then Gudu's betrothed, who had been watching for him,
brought out a pitcher of water, which she poured over them
to wash off the dust of the road, and two portions of food. But
once again the rabbit’s hopes were dashed to the ground, for
Gudu said hastily, “The custom of the village forbids you to eat
till | have finished.” And Isuro did not know that Gudu was lying
and that he only wanted more food. So he sat hungrily looking
on, waiting till his friend had had enough.

In a little while Gudu screamed loudly, “l am burnt! | am
burnt!” though he was not burnt at all. Now, though Isuro had
the leaves about him, he did not dare to produce them at
that moment lest the baboon should guess why he had stayed
behind. So he just went round a corner for a short time and
then came hopping back in a great hurry. But, quick though
he was, Gudu had been quicker still, and nothing remained but
some drops of water.

“How unlucky you are,” said Gudu, snatching the leaves. “No
sooner had you gone than ever so many people arrived and
washed their hands, as you see, and ate your portion of food.”

But, though Isuro knew better than to believe him, he said
nothing and went to bed hungrier than he had ever been in his
life.

Early next morning they started for another village and
passed on the way a large garden where people were very busy
gathering peanuts.

“You can have a good breakfast at last,” said Gudu, pointing
to a heap of empty shells, never doubting but that Isuro would
meekly take the portion shown him and leave the real nuts
for himself. But what was his surprise when Isuro answered,

274 |

“Thank you; | think | should prefer these.” And, turning to the
peanut kernels, Isuro never stopped as long as there was one
left. And the worst of it was that with so many people about,
Gudu could not take the nuts from him.

It was night when they reached the village where dwelt the
mother of Gudu’s betrothed, who laid meat and millet porridge
before them.

“| think you told me you were fond of porridge,” said Gudu,
but Isuro answered, “You are mistaking me for somebody else,
as | always eat meat when | can get it.” And again Gudu was
forced to be content with the porridge, which he hated.

While Gudu was eating it, however, a sudden thought darted
into his mind, and he managed to knock over a great pot of
water which was hanging in front of the fire and put it quite
out. “Now,” said the cunning creature to himself, “I shall be able
in the dark to steal his meat!”

But the rabbit had grown as cunning as the baboon and,
standing in a corner, Isuro hid the meat behind him so that the
baboon could not find it.

“O Gudu!” the rabbit cried, laughing aloud. “It is you who have
taught me to be clever.” And calling to the people of the house,
he bade them kindle the fire for Gudu would sleep by it, but
that he would pass the night with some friends in another hut.

It was still quite dark when Isuro heard his name called very
softly, and, on opening his eyes, he beheld Gudu standing by
him. Laying his finger on his nose in token of silence, Gudu
signed to Isuro to get up and follow him, and it was not until
they were some distance from the hut that Gudu spoke. “!
am hungry and want something to eat better than that nasty
porridge that | had for supper. So |am going to kill one of those
goats and, as you are a good cook, you must boil the flesh for
me.” The rabbit nodded, and Gudu disappeared behind a rock
but soon returned dragging the dead goat with him.

The two then set about skinning it, after which they stuffed
the skin with dried leaves so that no one would have guessed

| 275

it was not alive, setting it up in the middle of a lump of bushes
which kept it firm on its feet. While Gudu was doing this, Isuro
collected sticks for a fire and, when it was kindled, Gudu
hastened to another hut to steal a pot which he filled with
water from the river and, planting two branches in the ground,
they hung the pot with the meat in it over the fire.

“It will not be fit to eat for two hours at least,” said Gudu,
“so we can both have a nap.” And he stretched himself out on
the ground and pretended to fall fast asleep but, in reality, he
was only waiting till it was safe to take all the meat for himself.
“Surely | hear him snore,” he thought, and he stole to the place
where Isuro was lying on a pile of wood, but the rabbit's eyes
were wide open.

“How tiresome,” muttered Gudu as he went back to his place
and, after waiting a little longer, he got up and peeped again,
but still the rabbit’s eyes stared, open wide. If Gudu had only
known, Isuro was asleep all the time, having put flat white
stones over his closed eyes to fool the baboon, but this Gudu
never guessed, and by and by he grew so tired with watching
that he went to sleep himself.

Soon after, Isuro woke up, and he too felt hungry, so he crept
softly to the pot and ate all the meat, while he tied the bones
together and hung them in Gudu's fur. After that he went back
to the wood-pile and slept again.

In the morning, the mother of Gudu’s betrothed came out to
milk her goats, and on going to the bushes where the largest
one seemed entangled, she found out the trick. She made such
lament that the people of the village came running, and Gudu
and Isuro jumped up also and pretended to be as surprised and
interested as the rest. But they must have looked guilty after all,
for suddenly an old man pointed to them and cried, “Those are
the thieves!” And at the sound of the old man’s voice, the big
Gudu trembled all over.

276 |

“How dare you say such things? | defy you to prove it,”
answered Isuro boldly. And he danced forward, and turned
head over heels, and shook himself before them all.

“| spoke hastily; you are innocent,” said the old man. “But now
let the baboon do likewise.” And when Gudu began to jump,
the goat’s bones rattled, and the people cried, “It is Gudu who
is the goat-slayer!”

But Gudu answered, “No, | did not kill your goat; it was Isuro,
and he ate the meat, and hung the bones round my neck. So it
is he who should die!”

And the people looked at each other, for they knew not what
to believe. At length one man said, “Let them both die, but they
may choose their own deaths.”

Then Isuro answered, “If we must die, put us in the place
where the wood is cut and heap it up all round us so that we
cannot escape, and set fire to the wood, and if one is burned
and the other is not, then he that is burned is the goat-slayer.”

And the people did as Isuro had said. But Isuro knew of a hole
under the wood-pile and, when the fire was kindled, he ran into
the hole, but Gudu died there.

When the fire had burned itself out and only ashes were left
where the wood had been, Isuro came out of his hole and said
to the people, “Lo! Did | not speak well? He who killed your goat
is among those ashes.”

| 277

41. The Sacred Milk of
Koumongoe

i
an Ca

278 |

[From African Folktales in the Fairy Books of Andrew

Lang, originally published in The Orange Fairy Book
(1906), based on a story in Contes populaires des
Bassoutos by Edouard Jacottet, 1895. See item #121 in
the Bibliography. The illustration is by Henry Justice
Ford.]

Far away, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and
woman who had two children, a son named Koane and a
daughter called Thakane.

Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents
worked hard in the fields, resting when the sun was high under
the shade of some tree. While they were absent, the little girl
kept house alone, for her brother always got up before the
dawn when the air was fresh and cool and drove out the cattle
to the sweetest patches of grass he could find.

One day, when Koane had slept later than usual, his father
and mother went to their work before him and there was only
Thakane to be seen busy making the bread for supper.

“Thakane,” he said, “I am thirsty. Give me a drink from the tree
Koumongoe, which has the best milk in the world.”

“Oh, Koane,” cried his sister, “you know that we are forbidden
to touch that tree. What would father say when he came
home? For he would be sure to know.”

“Nonsense,” replied Koane, “there is so much milk in
Koumongoe that he will never miss a little. If you won't give it to
me, | won't take the cattle out. They will just have to stay all day
in the hut, and you know that they will starve.” And he turned
from her in a rage and sat down in the corner.

After a while Thakane said to him, “It is getting hot; had you
better drive out the cattle now?”

But Koane only answered sulkily, “I told you | am not going to
drive them out at all. If | have to do without milk, they shall do
without grass.”

| 279

Thakane did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey
her parents, who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts
would be sure to suffer if they were kept in, and she would
perhaps be beaten for that too. So at last she took an axe and
a tiny earthen bowl, and she cut a very small hole in the side of
Koumongoe, and out gushed enough milk to fill the bowl.

“Here is the milk you wanted,” said she, going up to Koane,
who was still sulking in his corner.

“What is the use of that?” grumbled Koane. “Why, there is not
enough to drown a fly. Go and get me three times as much!”

Trembling with fright, Thakane returned to the tree and
struck it a sharp blow with the axe. In an instant there poured
forth such a stream of milk that it ran like a river into the hut.

“Koane! Koane!” cried she. “Come and help me to plug up
the hole. There will be no milk left for our father and mother.”
But Koane could not stop it any more than Thakane, and soon
the milk was flowing through the hut downhill towards their
parents in the fields below.

The man saw a white stream a long way off and guessed
what had happened. “Wife, wife,” he called loudly to the
woman, who was working at a little distance. “Do you see
Koumongoe running fast down the hill? That is some mischief
of the children’s, | am sure. | must go home and find out what is
the matter.” And they both threw down their hoes and hurried
to the side of Koumongoe.

Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of
their hands and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they
done this than Koumongoe flowed back again up the hill and
entered the hut.

“Thakane,” said the parents severely when they reached
home panting from the heat of the sun, “what have you been
doing? Why did Koumongoe come to us in the fields instead of
staying in the garden?”

“It was Koane’s fault,” answered Thakane. “He would not take
the cattle to feed until he drank some of the milk from

280 |

Koumongoe. So, as | did not know what else to do, | gave it to
him.”

The father listened to Thakane’s words but made no answer.
Instead, he went outside and brought in two sheepskins which
he stained red, and then he sent for a blacksmith to forge some
iron rings. The rings were passed over Thakane’s arms and legs
and neck, and the skins fastened on her before and behind.
When all was ready, the man sent for his servants and said, “I
am going to get rid of Thakane.”

“Get rid of your only daughter?” they answered, in surprise.
“But why?”

“Because she has eaten what she ought not to have eaten.
She has touched the sacred tree which belongs to her mother
and me alone.” And, turning his back, he called to Thakane
to follow him, and they went down the road which led to the
dwelling of an ogre.

They were passing along some fields where the corn was
ripening when a rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet and,
standing on its hind legs, it sang:

Why do you give to the ogre

Your Child, so fair, so fair?

“You had better ask her,” replied the man. “She is old enough to
give you an answer.” Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:

| gave Koumongoe to Koane,

Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts;

For without Koumongoe

They could not go to the meadows.

Without Koumongoe

They would starve in the hut;

That was why | gave him

The Koumongoe of my father.

And when the rabbit heard that, he cried, “Wretched man!
It is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful
daughter.”

| 281

But the father paid no heed to what the rabbit said and only
walked on the faster, bidding Thakane to keep close behind
him. By and by, they met with a troop of great deer called
elands, and they stopped when they saw Thakane and sang:
Why do you give to the ogre
Your child, so fair, so fair?

“You had better ask her,” replied the man. “She is old enough to
give you an answer.” Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:

| gave Koumongoe to Koane,

Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts;

For without Koumongoe

They could not go to the meadows.

Without Koumongoe

They would starve in the hut;

That was why | gave him

The Koumongoe of my father.

And the elands all cried, “Wretched man! It is you whom the
ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.”

By this time it was nearly dark, and the father said they could
travel no further that night and must go to sleep where they
were. Thakane was thankful indeed when she heard this, for
she was very tired and found the two skins fastened round
her almost too heavy to carry. So, in spite of her dread of the
ogre, she slept till dawn when her father woke her and told her
roughly that he was ready to continue their journey.

Crossing the plain, the girl and her father passed a herd of
gazelles feeding. They lifted their heads, wondering who was
out so early, and when they caught sight of Thakane, they sang:
Why do you give to the ogre
Your child, so fair, so fair?

“You had better ask her,” replied the man. “She is old enough to
answer for herself.” Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:

| gave Koumongoe to Koane,

Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts;

For without Koumongoe

282 |

They could not go to the meadows.

Without Koumongoe

They would starve in the hut;

That was why | gave him

The Koumongoe of my father.

And the gazelles all cried, “Wretched man! It is you whom the
ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.”

At last they arrived at the village where the ogre lived, and
they went straight to his hut. He was nowhere to be seen, but
in his place was his son Masilo, who was not an ogre at all but
a very polite young man. He ordered his servants to bring a pile
of skins for Thakane to sit on but told her father he must sit
on the ground. Then, catching sight of the girl’s face which she
had kept down, he was struck by its beauty and put the same
question that the rabbit, and the elands, and the gazelles had
done.

Thakane answered him as before, and he_ instantly
commanded that she should be taken to the hut of his mother
and placed under her care, while the man should be led to his
father.

Directly the ogre saw the man, he bade the servant throw
him into the great pot which always stood ready on the fire,
and in five minutes he was done to a turn. After that, the
servant returned to Masilo and related all that had happened.

Now Masilo had fallen in love with Thakane the moment he
saw her. At first he did not know what to make of this strange
feeling, for all his life he had hated women and had refused
several brides whom his parents had chosen for him. However,
they were so anxious that he should marry that they willingly
accepted Thakane as their daughter-in-law, though she did
bring any marriage portion with her.

After some time a baby was born to her, and Thakane
thought it was the most beautiful baby that ever was seen. But
when her mother-in-law saw it was a girl, she wrung her hands

| 283

and wept, saying, “O miserable mother! O miserable child! Alas
for you! Why were you not a boy!”

Thakane, in great surprise, asked the meaning of her distress,
and the old woman told her that it was the custom in that
country that all the girls who were born should be given to the
ogre to eat.

Then Thakane clasped the baby tightly in her arms and cried,
“But it is not the custom in MY country! There, when children
die, they are buried in the earth. No one shall take my baby
from me.”

That night, when everyone in the hut was asleep, Thakane
rose and, carrying her baby on her back, she went down to a
place where the river spread itself out into a large lake, with tall
willows all round the bank. Here, hidden from everyone, she sat
down on a stone and began to think what she should do to
save her child.

Suddenly she heard a rustling among the willows, and an old
woman appeared before her.

“What are you crying for, my dear?” said she.

And Thakane answered, “I was crying for my baby — 1 cannot
hide her forever, and if the ogre sees her, he will eat her, and |
would rather she was drowned than that.”

“What you Say Is true,” replied the old woman. “Give me your
child and let me take care of her. And if you will fix a day to
meet me here, | will bring the baby.”

Then Thakane dried her eyes and gladly accepted the old
woman's offer. When she got home, she told her husband she
had thrown the baby in the river, and as he had watched her go
in that direction, he never thought of doubting what she said.

On the appointed day, Thakane slipped out when everybody
was busy and ran down the path that led to the lake. As soon
as she got there, she crouched down among the willows and
sang softly:

Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,

Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!

284 |

And in amomentthe old woman appeared holding the baby in
her arms. Dilah had become so big and strong that Thakane’s
heart was filled with joy and gratitude, and she stayed as long
as she dared, playing with her baby. At last she felt she must
return to the village lest she should be missed, and the child
was handed back to the old woman, who vanished with her
into the lake.

Children grow up very quickly when they live underwater,
and in less time than anyone could suppose, Dilah had
changed from a baby to a woman. Her mother came to visit her
whenever she was able, and one day, when they were sitting
talking together, they were spied out by a man who had come
to cut willows to weave into baskets. He was so surprised to see
how like the face of the girl was to Masilo that he left his work
and returned to the village.

“Masilo,” he said as he entered the hut, “I have just beheld
your wife near the river with a girl who must be your daughter,
she is so like you. We have been deceived, for we all thought
she was dead.”

When he heard this, Masilo tried to look shocked because his
wife had broken the law, but in his heart he was very glad.

“But what shall we do now?” asked he.

“Make sure for yourself that | am speaking the truth by hiding
among the bushes the next time Thakane says she is going to
bathe in the river and waiting till the girl appears.”

For some days Thakane stayed quietly at home, and her
husband began to think that the man had been mistaken, but
at last she said to her husband, “I am going to bathe in the
river.”

“Well, you can go,” answered he. But he ran down quickly by
another path, and got there first, and hid himself in the bushes.
An instant later, Thakane arrived and, standing on the bank,
she sang:

Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,

Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!

| 285

Then the old woman came out of the water, holding the girl,
now tall and slender, by the hand. And as Masilo looked, he saw
that she was indeed his daughter, and he wept for joy that she
was not lying dead in the bottom of the lake.

The old woman, however, seemed uneasy, and she said to
Thakane, “I feel as if someone was watching us. | will not leave
the girl today but will take her back with me,” and, sinking
beneath the surface, she drew the girl after her. After they
had gone, Thakane returned to the village, which Masilo had
managed to reach before her.

All the rest of the day he sat in a corner weeping, and his
mother who came in asked, “Why are you weeping so bitterly,
my son?”

“My head aches,” he answered. “It aches very badly.” And his
mother passed on and left him alone.

In the evening he said to his wife, “I have seen my daughter
in the place where you told me you had drowned her. Instead,
she lives at the bottom of the lake and has now grown into a
young woman.”

“Il don't know what you are talking about,” replied Thakane. “1
buried my child under the sand on the beach.”

Then Masilo implored her to give the child back to him, but
she would not listen and only answered, “If | were to give her
back, you would just obey the laws of your country and take her
to your father, the ogre, and she would be eaten.”

But Masilo promised that he would never let his father see
her and that now she was a woman no one would try to hurt
her, so Thakane’s heart melted, and she went down to the lake
to consult the old woman.

“What am | to do?” she asked when, after she clapped her
hands, the old woman appeared before her. “Yesterday Masilo
beheld Dilah, and ever since he has entreated me to give him
back his daughter.”

286 |

“If | let her go, he must pay me a thousand head of cattle
in exchange,” replied the old woman. And Thakane carried her
answer back to Masilo.

“Why, | would gladly give her two thousand,” cried he, “for
she has saved my daughter!” And he bade messengers hasten
to all the neighbouring villages and tell his people to send
him at once all the cattle he possessed. When they were all
assembled, he chose a thousand of the finest bulls and cows
and drove them down to the river, followed by a great crowd
wondering what would happen.

Then Thakane stepped forward in front of the cattle and
sang:

Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,

Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!

And Dilah came from the waters holding out her hands to
Masilo and Thakane, and in her place the cattle sank into the
lake and were driven by the old woman to the great city filled
with people which lies at the bottom.

| 287

32. The Jackal, the
Dove, and the Panther

[From African Folktales in the Fairy Books of Andrew

Lang, originally published in The Pink Fairy Book (1897),
based on a story in Contes populaires des Bassoutos
by Edouard Jacottet, 1895. See item #121 in the
Bibliography. The illustration is by Henry Justice Ford.]

There was once a dove who built a nice soft nest as a home
for her three little ones. She was very proud of their beauty
and perhaps talked about them to her neighbours more than
she need have done, till at last everybody for miles round knew
where the three prettiest baby doves in the whole countryside
were to be found.

One day a jackal who was prowling about in search of a
dinner came by chance to the foot of the rock where the dove's
nest was hidden away, and he suddenly bethought himself
that if he could get nothing better, he might manage to make
a mouthful of one of the young doves. So he shouted as loud as
he could, “Ohe, ohe, mother dove.”

And the dove replied, trembling with fear, “What do you
want, sir?”

“One of your children,” said he, “and if you don’t throw it to
me, | will jump on your nest and eat you up, and the others as
well.”

Now, the dove was nearly driven distracted at the jackal’s
words but, in order to save the lives of the other two chicks, she
did at last throw the little one out of the nest. The jackal ate it
up and went home to sleep.

Meanwhile, the mother dove sat on the edge of her nest,
crying bitterly, when a heron, who was flying slowly past the

288 |

rock, was filled with pity for her and stopped to ask, “What is
the matter, you poor dove?”

And the dove answered, “A jackal came by and asked me to
give him one of my little ones, and he said that if | refused, he
would jump on my nest and eat us all up.”

But the heron replied, “You should not have believed him.
He could never have jumped so high. He only deceived you
because he wanted something for supper.” And with these
words, the heron flew off.

He had hardly got out of sight when again the jackal came
creeping slowly round the foot of the rock. And when he saw
the dove, he cried out a second time, “Ohe, ohe, mother dove!
Give me one of your little ones, or | will jumrmp on your nest and
eat you all up.”

This time the dove knew better, and she answered boldly,
“Indeed, | shall do nothing of the sort,” though her heart beat
wildly with fear when she saw the jackal preparing for a spring.

However, he only cut himself against the rock and thought
he had better stick to threats, so he started again with his old
cry, “Mother dove, mother dove! Be quick and give me one of
your little ones, or | will eat you all up.”

But the mother dove only answered as before, “Indeed, | shall
do nothing of the sort for | know we are safely out of your
reach.”

The jackal felt it was quite hopeless to get what he wanted
and asked, “Tell me, mother dove, how have you suddenly
become so wise?”

“It was the heron who told me,” replied she.

“And which way did he go?” said the jackal.

“Down there among the reeds. You can see him if you look,”
said the dove.

Then the jackal nodded good-bye and went quickly after the
heron. He soon came up to the great bird, who was standing
on a stone on the edge of the river and watching for a nice fat

| 289

fish. “Tell me, heron,” said he, “when the wind blows from that
quarter, to which side do you turn?”

“And which side do you turn to?” asked the heron.

The jackal answered, “I always turn to this side.”

“Then that is the side | turn to,” remarked the heron.

“And when the rain comes from that quarter, which side do
you turn to?”

And the heron replied, “And which side do you turn to?”

“Oh, | always turn to this side,” said the jackal.

“Then that is the side | turn to,” said the heron.

“And when the rain comes straight down, what do you do?”

“What do you do yourself?” asked the heron.

“| do this,” answered the jackal; “| cover my head with my
paws.”

“Then that is what | do,” said the heron; “I cover my head
with my wings,” and as he spoke, he lifted his large wings and
spread them completely over his head.

Then, with one bound, the jackal had seized him by the neck
and began to shake him.

“Oh, have pity, have pity!” cried the heron. “I never did you any
harm.”

“You told the dove how to get the better of me, and | am
going to eat you for it.”

“But if you will let me go,” entreated the heron, “I will show
you the place where the panther has her lair.”

“Then you had better be quick about it,” said the jackal,

holding tight onto the heron until he had pointed out the
panther’s den. “Now you may go, my friend, for there is plenty
of food there for me.”

So the jackal came up to the panther and asked politely,
“Panther, would you like me to look after your children while
you are out hunting?”

“| should be very much obliged,” said the panther, “but be
sure you take care of them. They always cry all the time that |
am away.”

290 |

So saying, she trotted off, and the jackal marched into the
cave, where he found ten little panthers, and instantly ate one
up.

By and by, the panther returned from hunting and said to
him, “Jackal, bring out my little ones for their supper.”

The jackal fetched them out one by one till he had brought
out nine, and he took the last one and brought it out again, so
the whole ten seemed to be there, and the panther was quite
satisfied.

Next day she went again to the chase, and the jackal ate
up another little panther, so now there were only eight. In the
evening, when she came back, the panther said, “Jackal, bring
out my little ones!”

And the jackal brought out first one and then another, and
the last one he brought out three times, so that the whole ten
seemed to be there.

The following day the same thing happened, and the next
and the next and the next, till at length there was not even
one left, and the rest of the day the jackal busied himself with
digging a large hole at the back of the den.

That night, when the panther returned from hunting, she
said to him as usual, “Jackal, bring out my little ones.”

But the jackal replied, “Bring out your little ones, indeed!
Why, you know as well as | do that you have eaten them all up.”

Of course the panther had not the least idea what the jackal
meant by this, and so she repeated, “Jackal, bring out my
children.” As she got no answer, she entered the cave but found
no jackal, for he had crawled through the hole he had made
and escaped. And, what was worse, she did not find the little
ones either.

Now the panther was not going to let the jackal get off like
that, and she set off at a trot to catch him. The jackal, however,
had got a good start, and he reached a place where a swarm of
bees deposited their honey in the cleft of a rock. Then he stood

| 291

still and waited till the panther came up to him, “Jackal, where
are my little ones?” she asked,

And the jackal answered, “They are up there. It is where | keep
school.”

The panther looked about and then inquired, “But where? |
see nothing of them.”

“Come a little this way,” said the Jackal, “and you will hear how
beautifully they are singing.”

So the panther drew near the cleft of the rock.

“Don’t you hear them?” said the jackal. “They are in there
singing.” Then the jackal slipped away while the panther was
listening to the song of the children.

She was still standing in the same place when a baboon went
by. “What are you doing there, panther?” asked the baboon.

“lam listening to my children singing. It is here that the jackal
keeps his school.”

Then the baboon seized a stick and poked it in the cleft of
the rock. “Well then,” he exclaimed, “I should like to see your
children!”

The bees flew out in a huge swarm and made furiously for
the panther whom they attacked on all sides, while the baboon
soon climbed up out of the way, and as he perched himself on
the branch of a tree, he cried, “| wish you joy of your children!”
Meanwhile, the jackal’s voice was heard from afar exclaiming,
“Sting her well! Don’t let her go!”

The panther galloped away as if she was mad and flung
herself into the nearest lake, but every time she raised her
head, the bees stung her afresh, so at last the poor beast was
drowned altogether.

292 |

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| 293

43. The Lion, the Hyena,
and the Fox

[From Tales, Customs, Names and Dirges of the Tigre
Tribes by Enno Littmann, 1915. See item #128 in the
Bibliography.]

The lion and the hyena traveled together, and on their way
the lion found a bull, and the hyena a cow; the cow was far
advanced in pregnancy. And they put the bull and the cow
together, and the hyena tended them.

But afterwards, when it was time for the cow to bring forth,
the lion said to the hyena, “You stay at home today; | shall tend
the bull and the cow.”

The hyena knew that her cow was about to give birth but,
being afraid, she stayed at home.

And when the lion had gone away with them to the pasture,
the hyena’s cow gave birth to a calf. And the lion, wishing to
take the calf for himself, took the placenta of the cow and stuck
it into the behind of his bull. Furthermore, he let the calf suck
milk from its mother in the field so that afterwards the hyena
should not see the calf sucking.

And in the evening when he came home, he said to the
hyena, “My bull has given birth to a calf, and this is his placenta.”

The hyena said to him, “Does a bull give birth to a calf like a
cow?”

The lion said to her angrily, “Yes, certainly he does!” and he
sought to kill the hyena. But the hyena was afraid of him and
sat down crying.

The next morning the lion took the calf and his bull and the
cow and went away with them, and the hyena stayed at home,
crying.

294 |

And while she was crying, the fox came to her and said,
“What has happened to you, hyena?”

She said, “My cow gave birth to a calf, and the lion said to me,
‘My bull birthed the calf; your cow did not calve,’ and he took it
from me.”

And the fox said to her, “Be silent! Do not cry; tomorrow | shall
make him give it to you.”

And the next day when the lion and the hyena were together,
the fox, carrying a waterskin, passed by them.

When they saw him, the lion said to him, “Where are you
going, fox?”

The fox answered him, “Last night my father gave birth to a
boy, and | am going to ask for the milk of his child-bed.”

The lion asked him, “Does a man give birth like a woman?”

And the fox said to him, “If a man does not give birth like a
woman, give the hyena her calf.”

The lion jumped upon him to kill him, but the fox ran swiftly
away from him into a certain place.

Now the lion hid himself in the hole of the fox to kill him by
craft.

Then, when it grew evening, the fox came to his hole, but he
saw the tracks of the lion at the mouth of his hole and said
to himself, “Perhaps the lion is hidden here in my hole,” and
he said, standing at the mouth of his hole, “O my house, good
evening to you!”

But the lion kept silent.

Again the fox repeated, “O my house, good evening to you!
Previously you used to answer me, ‘May your evening be good!’
and that is how | know you are my house.”

The lion, thinking that the fox’s house had formerly talked to
him, said to him with a disguised voice, “May your evening be
good!”

And the fox said, “My house! You are not my house; you are

really the lion!” and he fled from him.

| 295

The lion looked for the fox, seeking to kill him, but as he did
not find him, he returned to the hyena and gave her her calf. In
this way the fox, by his craft, made the lion give the hyena her
calf.

And men say as a proverb, “‘Give the hyena her calf,’ said the

fox.

296 |

34. How the Fox
Followed the Elephant

[From Tales, Customs, Names and Dirges of the Tigre
Tribes by Enno Littmann, 1915. See item #128 in the
Bibliography.]

The fox and the elephant were together. When they started,
the elephant said to the fox, “Where are you going, fox?” The fox
answered him, “I am going with you.” The elephant, however,
said to him, “Stay here; you cannot endure hunger and thirst.”
But the fox said to him, “I can endure it; | shall not say to you
that |am hungry or thirsty.” And the elephant said to him, “Very
well then.” And they went together about a day’s journey.

Then the fox said to the elephant, “Uncle, | am thirsty!” But
the elephant replied, “Didn’t you tell me you wouldn't be
thirsty? How is this now?” And the fox said to him, “When did
| think that we should go through such a dry country?” The
elephant said, “Go then, drink from that water-pit there and
come back!” And the fox went and, after having drunk, he filled
up the pit and returned to the elephant. And the elephant
asked him, “Have you had a drink?” but the fox replied, “No, |
found the pit filled up.”

Thereupon after they had marched awhile, the fox said to
him, “Uncle, | am thirsty!” The elephant said, “Go then, drink
from such and such a well; then come.” The fox went, drank,
filled up the well, and said, “l found nothing in it; it was filled
up.”

And again after they had marched on awhile, the fox said to
him, “Uncle, | am thirsty!” The elephant said to him, “Go then
and drink from such and such a well; then come!” And that one
also the fox covered up and said, “I found nothing.”

| 297

While the fox sooke thus and the elephant showed him every
well, they came into a country which the elephant did not
know. The fox said to him, “Uncle, | am thirsty!” The elephant
answered, “I do not know the wells of this country. But there
is water within my belly; enter here through my behind, and
when you’ve had a drink, come back without turning right or
left.” So the fox entered through the behind of the elephant,
drank from that water, and came back in his tracks.

Afterwards when they had marched on from there, the fox
said to the elephant, “Uncle, | am thirsty!” And the elephant
replied, “Enter into me as before, and when you've had a drink,
come back!” The fox entered into him, and on his return after
he had drunk, he saw the fat in the belly of the elephant
swinging; he tore a bite off from the fat and ate. The elephant
said to the fox inside him, “Fox, how could you betray me?
May you be betrayed likewise!” But the fox sat there inside the
elephant in order to eat from the fat. The elephant said, “Why
don’t you come out?” The fox said, “How am | supposed to
come out?” The elephant replied, “Go out the way you came in!”
The fox said, “If | do that, you'll poop on me!” The elephant said,
“Come out through my mouth!” The fox said, “Uncle, if | do that,
you'll break me into pieces with your tusks.” “Come out through

nou

my foot!” “If | do, you'll squash me.” “Come out then through
my ear!” “Then the wax of your ear will get all over me.” “Come
out through my trunk!” “If | do, you'll catch me with it.” And
whatever way the elephant told him, the fox refused to come
out.

The elephant said to him, “Now then, since you have refused
to come out, | shall throw myself with you down from this
precipice.” But the fox said to him, “What do | care? Throw
yourself down!” And the elephant, intending to perish together
with the fox, Jumped from the precipice and all his bones broke
into pieces. But the fox went out through his behind when the
elephant began to jump down, and he was safe.

298 |

Thereupon the fox took out the elephant’s entrails and, while
unrolling them and dragging them along, he was met by
traveling merchants. And he recognized his cousin among the
merchants, and they greeted each other. Said his cousin to
him, “Where have you come from, fox?” And he told him his
adventures and said to him, “To my luck and your luck, | have
found an elephant fallen down.” So his cousin informed his
company, and they asked the fox, “Where is the elephant?”
The fox answered, “These, his entrails, will guide you; just follow
them!” “But who will stay with our things for us?” said they. The
fox replied, “I shall stay with them.”

And after they had gone to the elephant, the fox opened their
skins and drank the melted butter that was in them; then he
filled the skins with piss and poop, but from the skin of his
cousin he kept away. And when they returned, they said to him,
“You have stayed here for us, fox; you have done well.” And then
they said, “Let’s make a meal for him!” And when they had
made the meal for him, the fox asked them, “Make me butter-
sauce out of the skin of my cousin; my aunt’s butter | know well
— it is good.” So they made a sauce of it for him. And after he
had eaten, he went away from them.

When the merchants entered the town, they opened their
skins in order to sell the butter, but they found nothing but piss
and poop in their skins; only the skin of the fox’s cousin was
good. The merchants said, “The fox has done this to us,” and
they went to seek him. But the fox had mixed with other foxes
who were his friends, so they did not recognize him.

Then the merchants gathered all the foxes, planted a spear
in the ground, and said to them, “Jump over it.” The other foxes
jumped over it, but the fox who had drunk their melted butter
could not jump. The merchants said, “It is he! Because he has
drunk our butter, he is now unable to jump,” and they seized
him. And after they had tied him to a tree, they went away with
the words, “Let us fetch switches with which to scourge him!”

| 299

While he was thus tied, the jackal came to him, herding
several goats and playing a song on his harp. He said to him,
“Fox, what has happened to you? Why are you tied up?” The fox
replied, “My family told me to become their chief, but | refused
the chieftainship.” The jackal said, “Does he whom they tell to
become chief ever refuse the chieftainship?” The fox replied, “If
you want it, untie me, and I'll give the chieftainship to you. I'll tie
you in my place, and when they come to lash you with switches,

tell them: | will be chief; let me alone!” The jackal untied him,
and after that the fox tied him to the tree. Then the fox went
away, taking from the jackal his several goats and also his harp.

Now when the merchants returned and lashed the jackal
with the switches, he said to them, “I will be chief; let me alone!”
When they saw he was not the fox, they asked him, “Who
are you? And who told you that you would become chief?”
He answered, “I am the jackal, and the fox has betrayed me!
He told me, ‘My family told me to become their chief, but |
refused the chieftainship.’ And | said, ‘Does he whom they tell
to become chief ever refuse the chieftainship?’ And he said, ‘If
you want it, untie me, and I'll give the chieftainship to you. I'll tie
you in my place, and when they come to lash you with switches,
tell them: | will be chief; let me alone!’ And he took my several
goats and my harp and went away.” Then they said, “The traitor
has escaped us,” and they untied the jackal.

And in this way the fox escaped from them. This is what they
say.

300 |

35. The Debbi

[From Tales, Customs, Names and Dirges of the Tigre
Tribes by Enno Littmann, 1915. See item #128 in the
Bibliography]

The so-called debbi is a wild animal; its height is less than that
of a dog. They say that it frightens all the wild animals.

Once upon a time, aman went down to a lonely river to fetch
water. But at the river he found all the eatable and uneatable
animals drinking. So the man hid himself in a certain place
until all the animals had drunk and gone away.

But while the man was hiding thus, he observed all the
animals. And after they all had drunk, each went to its place.
And the elephants were romping together, and the lions
together, and the hyenas together. And they all were scuffling,
each with its kind.

Now, while they were in this state, the debbi came down
to the river. And when it came, all the animals became wildly
excited and fled instantly, and all left the riverbed.

The man was very much astonished and exclaimed, “Thy
wonder, God! What is this?”

Thereupon the debbi came down to the well and, after it had
drunk, it went up; then it wallowed at a certain spot and went
out by the way in which it had come down.

Now, when all had gone away from the riverbed, the man
rose from his hiding place, wondering that all the eatable and
uneatable animals had fled from the little one. He drew water
from the well and started on his way.

But then he thought, “I had better try to find out exactly of
what sort that is which has put them all to flight.” And he came
to the place where it had wallowed, and there he found a hair.
Then the man took the hair and tied it up with a knot in the
corner of his cloak.

| 301

Afterwards when he entered a village, all the people of the
village fled from him. But the man did not know for what
reason they fled from him.

And he went to another village, but the people of that village
also fled from him.

And the man was frightened and said to himself, “What have
| become, that all flee from me as from a madman?”

But from among the people of the village, a brave and
courageous man stood before him and shouted at him, saying,
“You, man! What do you have with you by which you put us to
flight?”

The other replied, “| have no weapons; on the contrary, you
flee from me by yourselves!”

Again the man said to him, “No! Do you perhaps have some
root with you?”

Then he thought of the hair and answered him, “Il have no
root, but | went down to a riverbed and, because | found there
all the wild animals, | hid myself until they made room for me.
And from my hiding place | observed this: a little hairy one
smaller than a dog came down to the river, and when the
animals saw it, they all fled from it, even the elephants. And,
after it had drunk from the well and gone up, it wallowed at
a certain spot. Thereupon, wondering very much, | took a hair
from its wallowing place, and it has been in the end of my cloak
until now.”

And the other man bought the hair from him with money.
Then he sewed it up in a leather case, and it became a talisman
unto him, and he hung it around his neck. And the people of
every village and tribe were afraid of him. Whatever he took
raiding, he brought home, and when his village was raided, he
made the raiders give up their booty. And there was nobody
who could stand before him in a fight.

But afterwards, when he lost the talisman with the hair,
warriors killed him, they say.

302 |

And now men say about a man who has something frightful
about him: “He has probably a hair of the debbi with him.”

This debbi is only seen sometimes, and then everybody, be it
man or animal, flees from it. But he who finds some of its hair
fallen on the ground and carries it on his body is feared by all
men. And the abiding-place of the debbi is generally the Gash-
Barka region, but it is not often seen.

| 303

46. The Elephant and
the Rabbit

[From Kiungani, or: Story and History from Central
Africa by Arthur Madan, 1887. See item #130 in the
Bibliography.]

There was once an elephant, and he made a brew of beer and
said, “Il should like to have a dance for my friends, but at my
drinking-bout | will have none who have not horns. | want all
who have horns, but no one else.”

So one day he collected together all his friends who had
horns, but no one else. And they all assembled. And he asked
his friends, “Whom shall we appoint policeman to keep the
door for us?”

They all said, “Perhaps the hyena would do.”

Someone was sent to go and find the hyena. The hyena was
soon found, he and a very little cub of his, and they were
brought to the elephant. And the elephant said, “Il want you to
be our policeman and just keep the door for us.”

“Oh, certainly,” said the hyena. “Very well. Agreed.”

The arrangements were made for the dance. It was a dance
called “Njipa.” First they conversed, and presently beer was
brought, a jar and a half full, and they drank. When they had
done drinking, they fell to dancing, and the song to which
they danced was this — “Njipa, mwiwale zale? Uwanywo
hatupiyakao mwanyi pwanabwa ngoo” — which means, “This
dance, where did you hear of it? And we are by no means at
home yet, oh, no!” That is what it meant.

Well, while they were dancing away and highly delighted
because the dance was a very good one, suddenly they saw a
very handsome young person coming with antlers like a stag.

304 |

They called the stag and asked him, “Is this a relation of yours
or not?”

The stag replied, “| do not know. Possibly it is a relation of
mine.”

The elephant said at once, “Give this young person a place
and let him dance. It is alright; he has horns.” A place in the
dance was given him at once. But he would not dance in the
sun, as he was afraid his horns would come off — for he was
only a rabbit really and had no horns at all, just horns of wax.

So they danced till they began to be tired. Presently they
went to have another pull at the beer, just by way of
refreshment. When they had refreshed themselves, then at
once they fell to dancing again. And then the rabbit got in a
sunny place, and in a moment both his horns melted off, and
one horn flew off and hit the elephant near the nose. “Collar
that fellow there!” exclaimed the elephant to the hyena.

“Where?” answered the hyena. “| have not got sight of him
yet.” The rabbit had not got out; he had hidden himself near
where the hyena was. The very moment the hyena went out of
the door, the rabbit bolted out too.

When the hyena saw him, he went after him at full speed.
Suddenly the rabbit dived into a hole. The hyena and his young
cub dug away with a will but could not get at him. Presently
the hyena said, “Wait here and don't let him out. Stuff grass into
the hole; | will go and get fire.”

“Very well.” said the cub.

As soon as the hyena was well on his way to fetch fire, the
rabbit rose up from inside, and while the cub was gathering
grass, the rabbit came out. As soon as he was safe outside, he
came up from behind and asked the cub who was gathering
grass, “Where has your father gone?”

“He has gone to get fire,” answered the cub.

“What is the fire for?” the rabbit inquired.

“To smoke the rabbit out,” said he. “He’s there inside the hole.
| will stuff grass in the hole.”

| 305

“Oh!” said the rabbit. “It is no good stuffing grass in. He will
get out. Don’t use grass! Put your paw in, and keep singing like
this: Too-0o tee-ay-lar, too-oo tee-ay-lar.” After the cub put his
paw in the hole, the rabbit said, “Now then, begin singing. And
go on till you see your father coming with the fire; then stuff
the grass in. Do you understand, you little cub?”

“Oh, yes!” said the cub. The rabbit was off in a moment, and
the cub never saw where the rabbit went to.

And the cub attended to what the rabbit had said to him and
did exactly as he was told: he put his paw in the hole and kept
singing, “Too-oo tee-ay-lar, too-oo tee-ay-lar.” And as soon as
the cub saw his father coming, he stuffed the grass into the
hole.

Presently his father came up and asked his cub, “Is the rabbit
in there?”

“Yes, father, he is there.”

So they lighted a fire and put it in the hole and puffed away at
it till the hole was quite full of smoke. Then they fell to digging
again. They dug and dug till they came to the end, and not a
thing did they find inside it after all.

The father promptly asked his child, “Why is the rabbit not in
there inside the hole? Where has he gone to? | know you have
let him out.”

The young one answered at once and said, “Well, | did see a
rabbit. He came up behind me, and he said to me, ‘What are
you waiting for here?’ And | replied, ‘| am waiting for a rabbit.
He is here in this hole.” And he said to me, ‘If you are waiting
for a rabbit, it is no good stuffing grass in the hole; he will be
out and away ina moment.’ And | answered, ‘Well, what am | to
stop the hole with?’ ‘With your paw,’ said he, ‘and besides, keep
singing like this: Too-oo, tee-ay-lar, too-oo tee-ay-lar’” — which
means “stopping up and letting out,” that is its meaning.

When the cub’s father heard this, he was very angry, for he
was afraid the elephant would kill him.

306 |

Well, the hyena hunted for the rabbit but could not find him,
as the rabbit had gotten clean away. Then the hyena and his
cub went back to the elephant and found them all dancing
away just as before. And the dance was in full swing, too. The
hyena went up to the elephant and said to him, “Il have not
caught the rabbit.”

“What rabbit?” said the elephant hastily.

“The one you told me to collar,” said the hyena.

“I never told you any such thing,” said the elephant. The fact
was, the elephant denied it because the dance was quite
delightful; the dancing and the singing were quite exquisite. So
the hyena went back to his post and kept the door again as
before, he and his cub with him.

The company continued to dance and drank up the beer. The
beer was not quite so good at first, but now there were the
dregs at the bottom, and they were particularly nice — nicer
than all the rest together. Then they made up another dance,
and presently they saw a young person with the horns of a
buffalo, and very fine horns indeed they were. They welcomed
him at once in high good-humour, and the rabbit (for it was the
rabbit again) joined in the dance without more ado.

At first, he took great care not to get into the sun for he was
afraid his horns would melt off at once. So he danced in the
shade. Presently the elephant called out, “Stop dancing. Now
let us finish off what is left of our beer.” They lost no time in
gathering together, and very soon the beer was brought, and
they drank till they had finished it all up, and the rabbit with
them.

When they had done drinking, they stood up to dance, and
they danced away vigorously, and the dance got into a famous
swing. And the rabbit got into the sun, because he was so
taken up with the dancing. And in a moment, while the rabbit
was dancing, both his horns melted right off and flew up and
hit the buffalo. And the rabbit made a rush for the hyena, who
was keeping guard at the door, and the hyena entirely failed to

| 307

collar the rabbit. And the rabbit bolted into a cemetery, and the
hyena tried to hunt him down but could not catch him, for in
the cemetery there were a great many footmarks, so he did not
know which was the track of the rabbit.

And the hyena went back and said to the elephant, “I could
not catch him for he ran into the cemetery, and | do not know
the track which he made for there are a great many footmarks
there.”

“Well,” said the elephant, “what are we to do? He has
contrived to drink our beer, and he has joined in our dance, and
he has got off scot-free. And he has hurt us, too, with those
beastly horns of his.”

But the company danced and enjoyed themselves, and then
they took leave of each other, and everyone went away highly
delighted. So the dance came to an end.

As for the rabbit, he took care not to appear a third time.

308 |

37. The Frog and the
Chameleon

[From Kiungani, or: Story and History from Central
Africa by Arthur Madan, 1887. See item #130 in the
Bibliography. The photograph of the chameleon is by

Charles J. Sharp at Wikimedia Commons.]

One day a frog spoke to his fellow frogs and said, “I have
heard that there is a chameleon about. The day | see him, he
shall be my friend.”

Well, one day they met, the frog and the chameleon, and
they at once wished each other good morning, and after
wishing each other good morning, they made mutual

| 309

inquiries. First the frog asked the chameleon, “How are you
getting on?”

“Capitally,” replied the chameleon. “And how are you — well
or badly?”

“Excellently,” said the frog, “and how have you been this long
time past?”

“In peace and quietness,” answered the chameleon, “passing
all understanding.”

“My friend,” said the frog, “you have given me an answer,
but it has a fatal flaw. Peace cannot pass all understanding,
unless you ascribe it to Almighty God, who created us, me
and you. You, my friend, speak to me of a peace passing all
understanding without naming your Creator, yours and mine,
the Creator of all things, Almighty God.”

“Quite true,” answered the chameleon. “You have a very fine
sense of propriety.”

Well, the frog and the chameleon clung to each other as the
ring to the finger, and so remained for many a day, the frog and
the chameleon.

At last the frog got up and said to the chameleon, “My friend,
we are still unmarried. Let us go and look for wives, and so
marry.”

“By all means, my friend,” said the chameleon, “let us go in
search of wives.”

So off they went to search for wives, and they traveled for
many a day without finding what they were in search of.
However, one day they saw a town and said, “Suppose we enter
this town. It is possible we shall get them here.”

So they entered the town and were at once made welcome
— “Welcome, welcome, strangers.” They sat down, and food
was brought in abundance, and they made a meal on the spot.
In the morning they were asked, “How are things going in your
parts — well or badly?”

“As well as could be,” answered they. ” But there is just one
thing to mention: we are in want of wives.”

310 |

“What do you say?” rejoined the people of the town.

“Wives,” said they, “simply wives.”

Now in that town there was a certain man who had two
children, both girls, and just at that time the two daughters
of this man appeared and passed in front of the frog and the
chameleon, who noticed that they were fine girls, and they
asked the people of the town, “Where is their father?”

The people answered and said, “He is the man you were just
now talking to here. They are his daughters.”

“We should like,” they said, “to marry his daughters.” Their
father and their mother were at once called. The frog and the
chameleon said, “We should like to marry your daughters.”

The man had a little conversation with his wife. “Well, what
do you think, my dear? Our daughters are asked in marriage by
the frog and the chameleon. Now what do you think, my dear?
Are they to marry or not marry?” “Just as you like, my dear,”
replied his wife. “Well,” said he, “for my part, | should think they
had better marry. These are gentlemen of quality, and | really
cannot say no to them.” Then the wife remarked, “I won't have
my children live in want. | won’t have my children find life all
worry and trouble.”

So the husband replied to the frog and the chameleon, “Is it
really the case that you have the means to provide well for your
wives?”

The frog and the chameleon answered and said to the father,
“We have, sir, never fear. We have, we have indeed, sir.”

Then the mother put in her word, “Il want sons-in-law who
know how to dig.”

“We will try,” replied they, but the frog added a boast on his
own account and said, “| have no doubt, madam, | can dig, no
doubt at all.” But the chameleon only said, “! will try, but | do
not think I can.”

So the wedding of the frog and chameleon was celebrated,
and it was as grand as could possibly be, the wedding of the
chameleon and the frog. Fifty days lasted the wedding

| 311

festivities of the frog and the chameleon, with slaughter of
oxen and slaughter of sheep and goats. As to chickens, they
were beyond counting. So a very grand affair was the wedding
of the frog and the chameleon.

Well, when the wedding festivities were over, the father-in-
law said to them, “Well, sons-in-law, what line of life will you
take up now?”

“In this country,” said they, “we are strangers,” and they
added, “We want spades and axes and sickles. We will do field-
work.” They said further, “Of course we are going to dig. Should
we take your daughters and do nothing for it?”

Their father-in-law bought spades, axes, and sickles —
everything required for field-work their father-in-law bought.
He gave them the things and said, “I want you to farm. Only
support your wives, and | won't take a single sixpence from
you.”

“By all means,” they replied, and the frog said, “For my part,
one spade and one axe are by no means enough for me. |
require twelve spades and ten axes and nine sickles. Then |
shall do rare work.”

“Gently, gently,” interrupted his friend the chameleon. “Are
you speaking the truth, my friend? How do you propose to
work with twelve spades?”

“Oh! Oh!” cried the frog. “Just because the chameleon is a
rare stick-in-the-mud — he’s a whole year getting anywhere;
he just crawls one foot at a time — | won’t have you make me
out a do-nothing, Mr. Chameleon! | want twelve spades. None

of your nonsense for me. Out of the road there!” The chameleon
moved off, and then the frog was given his twelve spades, and
he said, “Now | shall do rare work” — and he was given spaces,
and axes too, and sickles, just as he had requested.

But the chameleon was given one spade and one axe and
one sickle. And his father-in-law said, “The frog has told me you
are a thorough idler. That's why | gave you one spade and one

axe and one sickle, because you are lazy.”

312 |

“Very good, father-in-law,” said the chameleon, “you will see
if | am lazy. Thank you, thank you; one spade and one axe and
one sickle will do for me, father-in-law. Thank you. Let the frog
there have your spades.”

So the matter ended, and they went off to work.

Well, whenever the frog went out to work, he used to cover
himself with sand and cover himself with mud, and when he
came home to his father-in-law’s house, he bragged, “I have
done a fine stroke of work today; | want a good pile of food on
my plate today.” His mother-in-law cooked for him, and he took
his meals by himself, and the frog was very greedy and would
go presently to his mother-in-law and say, “Il have worked hard
today, mother-in-law, but as to the chameleon, he does not do
a single stroke of work — he goes off a ramble without you
seeing him; he carries off his spade in the morning, but don't
you believe that he is at work. He is a liar and a do-nothing.”
Then the mother-in-law got to hate the chameleon heartily,
because he was lazy. The frog had made mischief, and he said
to her, “Keep your love for me, | who work like a man, while the
chameleon does nothing.” When the frog came from his fields
it was always the same thing: he covered himself with mud so
as to get a name for hard work and be praised by everybody.

When the chameleon came from the fields, he would oil
himself and bathe himself and go back to his house, and when
he goes indoors, his wife sees him, and flies into a passion,
and demands of her husband, “How much digging have you
done today?” and the chameleon answers his wife, “I have fine
games. | don’t dig. The frog is the great digger; he has it all to
himself — no one else has a chance with him in digging.” His
wife would answer and say, “You are an idle do-nothing, you!
Everyone tells me you are. Is there a man in the world who
comes from the fields and all to oil himself? Where did you ever
see one? Tell me.”

“No, | never did,” said the chameleon. “But still, suppose it is a
way a man has; what are you to do?” His wife made no reply. At

| 313

last she said to him, “Just try to dig a bit. Don’t be lazy, my dear.
Look at your friend the frog; when he comes from his fields,
does he oil himself or not?”

The chameleon said to his wife, “No, he does not.”

“Well,” said his wife, “then you are an idler; you do not dig.”

“Just so, an idler,” was his answer to his wife.

So the chameleon went off to his fields. The fact is, the
chameleon was uncommonly industrious at digging, while the
frog never put spade to the ground. The frog was the regular
do-nothing. Every day it was just the same. The frog would
go to his field and stay a long time, doing nothing but amuse
himself; then he would spatter himself with mud and come
home, bragging to his wife, “Ah, my dear! | have done a fine
day’s work. | trust Almighty God may send down rain tonight,
and then tomorrow | will go and sow my field. A very large field
it is, too.” So bragged the frog.

Well, that night there was a heavy fall of rain. In the morning,
the frog said to his wife, “Go to your mother and say | want
seed.” She went and cried, “Mother, mother, may | come in?
My husband wants seed to sow.” “Oh! By all means,” said her
mother. Then the daughter asked, “What sort of seed do you
want baskets of, my husband — maize or millet?” The frog
replied, “| want eighteen baskets of maize, and ten of millet,
and nineteen of rice.” And the frog got all his seed of all kinds
together.

Then the chameleon was asked, “How many baskets do you
want?”

“Just what you can supply me with,” said he. “I shall make no
fuss, mother-in-law.”

“Quite right,” said his mother-in-law, and she produced some
baskets of maize, and of millet, and of rice. And of each kind
of seed his mother-in-law gave him two baskets only, because,
thought she, “The chameleon knows nothing about digging.”
The chameleon went off to sow his seed.

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What did the frog do but carry off his baskets of seed, and
go and dig a hole and put all his seed in the hole — that was
all the field the frog had. But the chameleon went to his field
and sowed the seed which his mother-in-law had given him —
the chameleon sowed his seed until his seed was all gone. As to
the frog, his seed, too, was all gone, of course — the frog’s seed
being simply put in a hole.

Then the frog lodged another request for seed with his
mother-in-law. “Il want,” said he, “nineteen more baskets of
maize, and the same of millet and the same of rice, nineteen
baskets — of each kind of seed nineteen baskets.” His mother-
in-law did not like to be outdone, so she procured the seed and
conveyed the seed to her son-in-law the frog, and oh! oh! oh! —
the frog was overjoyed, and he went again to dig a hole and put
in it the whole lot of seed which his mother-in-law had given
him. Then the frog said, “No, that is enough now; | don’t want
any more seed. What you gave me is sufficient. Now | have only
got to keep the ground clear of weeds.”

Then the chameleon was asked, “Do you want any seed?”

“lam a mere do-nothing,” said he. “| want none of your seed,
mother-in-law. | will get seed myself.”

“Very good,” said his mother-in-law. So the chameleon sowed
his field and kept his eye on it till the seed sprouted and came
up, and he kept the ground clear of weeds, and in the
chameleon’s field things were uncommonly flourishing. In his
field there were bananas, in his field the maize was past all
reckoning, and so was the sugar-cane in his field, the
chameleon’s.

Harvest-time came, and the frog was summoned by his
mother-in-law, who said to him, “I want to go and see your
fields, son-in-law. It is harvest-time, you know.”

“Indeed it is, mother-in-law,” he said. “It is harvest-time.” But
the frog quaked with terror at deceiving his mother-in-law.
However, he said, “Certainly. Suppose we go tomorrow
morning early?” And his mother-in-law said, “By all means.”

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They slept till morning, and then his mother-in-law went to the
frog’s house and said, “Well, what say you? Are we to go to your
field, son-in-law?”

“But,” replied the frog to his mother-in-law, “are you sure you
are equal to a very long walk? It is a very long way to the place
where | have worked, mother-in-law.”

“Never mind,” said his mother-in-law. “Let us start and take
it quietly, and we shall get there at last.” The frog was at his
wits’ end, and his mother-in-law said, “Alright, come along.” His
mother-in-law carried a basket with her, thinking she would
take some of the maize.

Well, they went on, and on, and on, and his mother-in-law
kept asking, “Son-in-law frog, son-in-law frog, where are you
going to?” The frog uttered an ejaculation, which meant,
“Come along, mother-in-law; come along, mother-in-law.” So
they went on till it was mid-day, and the frog said to his
mother-in-law, “We have left the field behind us. Let us go
back, mother-in-law.” His mother-in-law was fatigued, and so
were the people who were with her, and she said, “What have
you given us all this trouble for nothing for?”

The frog quaked at the voice of his mother-in-law. The frog
was at his wits’ end for an idea. “I had better say the seed was
devoured by swarms of vermin. Yes, rats in swarms. | had better
say that, and my mother-in-law will let me off.” The frog racked
his brains. “| had better say it.” So he said to his mother-in-law,
almost beside himself with terror, “That seed you gave me was
eaten by rats and vermin. They came in swarms and devoured
it wholesale, and the rats routed up all the seed | planted, and
here’s the rats’ hole.” Well, his mother-in-law simply could not
bear the sight of this wicked waste of seed. She could not call
him her son-in-law, but said to him, “Frog, you are no friend
of mine. You have given me all the trouble of a laborious hunt
after seed, and now you have spoiled it all in this way. And
then you have worried me with a hunt after soades and axes —

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everything, indeed, | had to hunt up, and now | should like to
know, where are your fields?”

“Il couldn’t dig,” whimpered the frog, “because | was all by
myself.” And the frog was terribly ashamed; he could not look
his mother-in-law in the face. Then his mother-in-law said,
“Frog, you are no longer my son-in-law. You have done very
wrong.” So they went back to the town in a ferment, the frog
not having a word to say for himself and only expecting to be
summarily expelled.

The next day the chameleon was summoned. “Well,
chameleon, how are you? Have you not been digging either?”
The chameleon answered his mother-in-law, “Come to my field
and see. But | am a sad idler, | am, just as you said yourselves,
just like the frog said. However, come along and see the results
of my idling.” So they went to the chameleon’s field, they went
on and on, and at last they reached it. When she set eyes on the
chameleon’s field — and that field was something enormous
— then his mother-in-law gave a cry of surprise and said, “Well,
| never! Son-in-law chameleon, who has dug here? All this field,
you by yourself?”

“Oh! I’m a lazy dog,” said the chameleon. “You see how lazy
| am.” His mother-in-law was quite astounded. Then in a
moment the chameleon gave orders for a house seven stories
high, and there it stood in a moment. Then in a moment he
gave orders to his maid-servants to convey his mother-in-law
upstairs, and she was carried up. The news spread to the town,
and a man was sent off to bring the father-in-law from the
town. Very soon he was brought to the chameleon’s residence.
The father-in-law was astounded too, and said, “How have you
managed to dig all this ground by yourself?” The chameleon
gave orders to his men-servants to convey his father-in-law
upstairs to a room, and people began to come into the
chameleon’s house, and he received them in state. The
chameleon went to his field, and plucked some half-ripe maize,
and gave it to his servants. “Make haste and cook this for my

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guests to eat.” His father-in-law was in the seven-storied house,
and he was in raptures and said, “I have got a fine son-in-law.”
And he added, “Now | will not have another son-in-law, only
the chameleon now, and no one else. As to the frog, | will have
nothing to do with him whatever.”

So he sent people, saying, “Tell the frog to take himself off.
Don't let me see him when | come to the town. Don’t let me see
him a single moment.” The people went to the town, and the
frog was told, “Your father-in-law is at the chameleon’s house,
and he says, ‘Take yourself off this very day! Don’t stay here
today; go away.’ Now then, you are a do-nothing, you frog, you!
Hit him! Hit him!”

Off the frog ran into the forest, and he was never seen again.

When the father-in-law came back to the town, he asked,
“Has the frog gone?” The people of the town replied, “Yes, he
has run off into the woods. We were going to kill him, but he
ran away.”

Well, the frog’s wife was given to the chameleon, and so
the chameleon had two wives. And the chameleon said to his
father-in-law, “Come now, let us walk about my fields.” So they
walked about till the father-in-law was tired, and then he
rested. When he was ready, he got up and went away. The
father-in-law told everyone, “| have got a fine son-in-law
indeed.”

So the chameleon lived with his two wives in the house of
seven stories, and they lived in peace and quietness. His father-
in-law died, and the mother-in-law only was left, and presently
she died too. Then the chameleon was left and his two wives
and a number of servants, male and female. They had nothing
to do but eat and drink.

This is the story of the chameleon and the frog. And the
frog ran away into the woods — that was what became of the
frog. As to digging, the chameleon handed that all over to his
servants.

This is the end of the story of the chameleon and the frog.

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38. The Man and the
Sheep

[From Kiungani, or: Story and History from Central
Africa by Arthur Madan, 1887. See item #130 in the
Bibliography.]

There was a man named Msamya, and he was a rich man, and
he went to the market and saw a sheep for sale, bought it,
and went home with it to his house. This man, Msamya, who
bought the sheep, was by trade a tailor, and he had a son
named Magala.

Early in the morning he said to his son Magala, “I am going
to my work. At eight o’clock take out this sheep to graze in the
pasture.”

When the hour came, the lad was late — he did not know
that it had struck eight o’clock. The sheep spoke and called to
him, “Magala, Magala, Magala.”

“Here | am,” he replied.

The sheep spoke and said to him, “When Msamya went to his
work, what did he say to you?”

Magala answered and said, “He told me, ‘When it strikes
eight o'clock, take the sheep to graze in the pasture.”

“Why did you not take me?” said the sheep.

The boy took it to the pasture. When he had done taking it
there, the boy ran off and went after his father to the place
where he worked, and he said to his father, “That sheep can
speak.”

Msamya caught up a bit of wood which he used in his work,
and struck him with it, and said, “Oh! Oh! My boy, where have
you found a sheep that can speak?” The boy ran away.

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The next day Msamya said to his son, “When you see it is ten
o'clock, take this sheep here to yonder baobab tree.”

The hour came, but the boy did not know it. So the sheep
called him, “Magala, Magala, Magala.”

“Here | am,” he replied.

The sheep spoke and said to him, “When Msamya went to
work, what did he say to you?”

The boy answered and said, “He said to me, ‘When you hear
the clock strike ten, take this sheep and lead it to the baobab
tree.”

So the boy took the sheep and led it to where the baobab
tree stood. When he had done taking it, the boy ran off and
went after his father to the place where he was working, and
the boy said to him, “Father, you will not believe when | tell you,
but the sheep speaks, really and truly.”

“Very well, my boy, if it speaks, | will come myself and see if it
does speak, really and truly.”

The day following, Msamya gave his son the same directions,
but he came himself and kept watch at the door to hear if the
sheep would speak. And he said to his son, “Be late on purpose
so that | may hear if it speaks.”

And so it all happened. Msamya stood outside the door, and
Magala played about outside. Presently the sheep called,
“Magala!” and Magala said to his father, “Do you hear, father?
You thought | was telling a lie.”

His father replied, “l have heard, my child. It is a marvelous
thing. Come, set off and take it to the pasture yonder.”

Well, Msamya went off to consult the medicine-men, and the
medicine-men said to him, “Take your son, and go and cut two
heavy logs, one for you and one for your son. When you find the
sheep asleep, first do you throw your log down on it, and then
let your son come and do the same. You will kill it in a moment.”

Msamya followed this advice. They went together, the man
and his son, and cut two very large logs, one for each of them.
They came and found the sheep asleep out of doors, the sun

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being hot. Msamya threw down his log upon it, but the sheep
slipped aside and said, “Msamya, look, you nearly killed me. But
of course you did not see me, and it’s very hot, and you must be
tired.” As the sheep was saying this, Magala came up and threw
down his log upon him, but the sheep avoided this too, and
said, “Ah! Do you want to kill me? Look! Your father threw down
his log and almost killed me. And you, look! You have thrown
down yours and almost killed me.”

Magala answered and said, “It was not on purpose. Why, you
see yourself how hot it is, and we have come a very long way
with these logs, and in all this heat. That’s why we threw them
down on you. We did not see you clearly, because we were so
tired.”

The sheep answered and said, “It is of no consequence, and |
saw myself that you were tired.”

Then Msamya went to another medicine-man, and this
medicine-man said to him, “Go and dig a large pit. In it put
spears and all kinds of dangerous things; put them inside it,
and at the top cover it over with grass. When it is finished, go
and say to your sheep, ‘Come, let us go for a stroll.’ Go in front
yourself, and let the sheep follow behind you. When you arrive
at the pit, cross over the corner of it, and stand on the further
side, straight in front, and call your sheep, ‘Come, make haste
and come along.’ Then, if it comes, it will fall into the pit. When
it has fallen in, fill in the earth as fast as you can, and it will die
in a moment.”

So Msamya went and dug the pit and put all kinds of
dangerous things in it, and at the top he finished it off cleverly
with grass. When the pit was ready, he went and called his
sheep and said to it, “Let us go a walk together today, | and my
sheep.”

Msamya went in front, his sheep followed behind, and he
arrived at the pit. Msamya himself crossed over the corner, and
stood on the further side just opposite, and said to his sheep,
“Come, make haste and come along.”

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When the sheep came to the pit, it saw that there was
danger and took a jump across to the other side where
Msamya was standing. And the sheep said to Msamya, “Oh!
Msamya, come and look. Some villain has laid a trap for us.”

“Who can it be,” said Msamya, “who laid the trap for us? And
we are not people of wealth; we are only poor people.”

“| do not know either,” answered the sheep. “Possibly people
are envious because you have got possession of me, and they
want to kill us both at one blow.”

“Very likely,” replied Msamya. And then he said to the sheep,
“Let us go home again, or we may have some more
adventures.” So Msamya returned home to his house, utterly
speechless with grief at having been outdone by the sheep.

Next he went to a third medicine-man. This man said to
Msamya, “Go and build a hut of coconut leaves, and sleep in
it four days. The fifth day remove all your things; do not forget
a single thing inside, but do not bar the door. Then take your
sheep, and fasten it inside, and set fire to the hut, only not
forgetting to leave nothing in it. Then the sheep will die.”

Msamya went and built the hut, and when that was done,
he slept in it four nights. On the fifth he removed all his things
from the hut and fastened the sheep inside, but his son Magala
forgot his spear and left it and a piece of cloth in the hut. Then
they set fire to the hut.

When the sheep saw the hut was burning, it cut the cord
with which it was tied, took the spear and piece of cloth, and
brought them to Msamya. “Look! Your son has forgotten his
spear and cloth. If it were not for me, they would have been
burnt.”

But when Msamya saw the sheep coming out from inside, he
got very angry.

The sheep said, “Why are you angry? Tell me.”

“Why lam angry,” said Msamya, “is that somebody has burnt
my hut.”

“Who has burnt your hut?” said the sheep.

322 |

“| don’t know,” answered Msamya, “who it is that burnt it.” But
really Msamya was very angry because of his hut and because
he was outdone by the sheep.

Then Msamya went to a fourth medicine-man. This
medicine-man gave him straightforward advice and said, “Go
and kill a goat; take the flesh and put it somewhere to get a
little putrid, say for three days. Then take and cook it, and make
a very full meal on it, and drink the gravy at the same time.
When you wake up in the morning, call your sheep and take
it for a ramble along a cliff. Go in front yourself, and let the
sheep follow behind you. When you come to the cliff, see that
the sheep is following close behind you. Then, give a burp. The
sheep will die in a moment.”

Msamya went home, killed his goat, and did as he was told,
made a full meal on it, and drank the gravy till he was ready to
burst, and then went to sleep. In the morning he woke up and
said, “Today, | will go a ramble with my sheep.” So he called out,
“Come, my sheep! Let us go for a ramble.”

The sheep came and followed him. Msamya went before, and
the sheep followed behind him, and they went till they arrived
at a very high cliff. Msamya gave a burp.

The sheep listened and thought, “No! It’s nothing!” Then it
spoke and said, “Oh! Msamya, why did you do that?”

“It is just a sort of relief,” replied Msamya, “to us men — just a
relief to me.”

“Well now,” replied the sheep, “don’t you do it again. | cannot
stand it a second time.”

“Very well,” said Msamya.

They went a little farther, and Msamya burped the same
again. “Msamya! Msamya!” said the sheep. “What did | say to
you just now?”

“Just a relief to me,” answered Msamya, “but | forgot.”

Then the sheep said, “Msamya! Msamya! If you do that a third
time, you lose a sheep for good. True, the mutton may just be
worth eating.”

| 323

“lam penitent now,” said Msamya.

Again they went on a little farther, and Msamya burped the
same again. Well, this was too much for the sheep. It tried to
stop its ears, but in a moment was seized with giddiness, and
fell over the cliff, and died then and there.

When Msamya turned round, he saw its legs twitching, and
he took to his heels and did not stop till he got to his house. He
was in a terrible fright.

When he reached his house his wife asked him, “Well? What
news?” but he was quite speechless.

Then all the people came and questioned him, but not a
word did he say. They brought him food, but he could not eat,
but he went to his house and sat there all by himself, for he was
dreadfully afraid, thinking, “Perhaps that sheep will come to life
again and come after me.”

However, early next morning, he woke up and went to the
cliff, and looked over the rock, and saw that the sheep was dead
beyond a doubt — one side had been eaten by hyenas. And
every hyena which ate a piece of that sheep was sick on the
spot.

Well, when Msamya saw that the sheep was really and truly
dead, he went home in a transport of delight and sounded his
horn and his drum, and all his relations assembled together,
and he made them a feast, which it took four happy days to eat.

Neither he nor his relations ever let a sheep enter their house
again to this day. That day was enough to convert them all.

324 |

39. The Horns of Plenty

HE RODE OUT INTO THE NIGHT 136

| 325

[From Native Fairy Tales of South Africa by Ethel
McPherson, 1919. See item #138 in the Bibliography. The
illustration is by Helen Jacobs.]

At the entrance to a kraal, a boy sat watching the sunset. He
was thin and small. The other children were laughing and
shouting, but he did not join in their play, for his heart was sore.
He had had no supper, and the women of the kraal were all so
busy looking after their own children that they had forgotten
him. The boy’s mother had died when he was a babe, and
ever since he had been driven from one hut to another. His
father was out all day hunting and snaring birds, and when he
came back at sundown, he seldom spoke to his little son. That
day, one of the women had beaten him because the load of
firewood which he had brought back was small, and his heart
was hot with anger.

“I will go away and never come back,” he said to himself. So
when darkness settled over the land and all were sleeping, he
rose from the ground and, going to the cattle-shed, he took
one of his father’s oxen. Having mounted it, he rode out into the
night.

He did not know where he was going, but he wanted to leave
behind him all the women who were so cruel to him and who
let him hunger.

When he was far from the kraal, he got down from the ox
and lay under a tree. He slept until the sun came up again over
the edge of the world. Then he continued his journey, rejoicing
at being far away from those who had ill-treated him.

By and by, he noticed a cloud of dust on the horizon, and
presently he saw that it was caused by the feet of a herd of
cattle coming toward him. At the head of the herd was a great
bull, fierce and strong of aspect.

“Get down from my back,” said the ox he was riding. “l am
going to fight the bull, but have no fear, for it is | who will be the
victor. ”

326 |

The boy dismounted and stood aside to watch the fight
between the two strong beasts, who ran at one another with
heads lowered and with angry bellowings, pawing the ground
till they were hidden from sight in the cloud of dust raised by
their trampling feet. The struggle was long and fierce, but at
last the ox overthrew his foe, as he had foretold. Then he bade
the boy mount again, and once more they went on their way.

As the day wore on, the boy grew hungry. The ox said to him,
“Strike my right horn, and food will come forth.”

The boy did as he was commanded, and there came forth
meat and drink, and he ate till his hunger was satisfied.

When he had finished his meal, the ox said, “Strike my left
horn.”

The boy obeyed, and the food still remaining entered the
horn.

All through the long hot day they journeyed across the veld
till, when the sun was low, the boy saw another herd of cattle
coming toward them, led by a bull even stronger than the one
which they had encountered that morning.

Wearied with the long march and the struggle with his first
foe, the ox walked with a slow and heavy tread. But he bade
the boy once again dismount, saying, “I am going to fight with
yonder bull. | shall be overthrown and death will take me, but
have no fear. When | am dead, remove my horns and carry
them with you wherever you go, for they will give you food and
drink when you are hungry and thirsty.”

The boy dismounted and, summoning all his strength, the ox
rushed toward his foe with lowered head. The fight was long
and fierce — fiercer far than the struggle of the morning, but
victory was not to the ox, and with a deep groan he sank dead
upon the earth.

The boy’s heart was sad at the loss of his friend but,
remembering the ox’s command, he took the horns from his
head and went his way.

| 327

Night fell, but he journeyed on till he came to a hut where he
found a man dwelling by himself. The boy asked for a night’s
lodging, and the man bade him welcome but said that he
could give him no food, for famine had fallen upon the
countryside, and everywhere men hungered, eating weeds
instead of corn.

The boy laughed. “I have something better to offer you than
weeds,” he said.

Thereupon he struck the right horn of the dead ox. Forthwith
it yielded meat and drink in abundance, and they ate and were
satisfied. Then the boy stretched himself on the ground and
slept soundly, but the man, who had known the pinch of
hunger for many a weary day, lay awake thinking how he might
deceive the boy and secure for himself the bountiful horns. At
last among the lumber in the hut he found two horns which
exactly resembled those his guest had brought, and he laid
them beside the sleeping lad, taking away those which
belonged to the boy by right.

At daybreak, the boy was ready to start on his travels once
more and, suspecting no evil, he picked up the horns that lay
beside him and journeyed toward the rising sun.

When the sun beat down fiercely upon the plain at noon, he
sought the shadow of a rock and struck the horn, expecting
that as before it would satisfy his need, but no food came.

He struck twice and thrice; then, guessing that his host of
the night before had robbed him, he retraced his steps and
reached the hut just as the sun was setting. He paused outside
and listened; the man was begging the horn to give him food,
but the horn, answering to no voice save that of its real owner,
remained sealed. Then the boy entered and, fearing his
vengeance, the man ran out into the night, nor did he return.
The boy made a good meal of the food which the horn supplied
to him and lay down to rest.

Next morning he once more set out, and at nightfall he saw
a hut standing by itself on the plain. He went up and boldly

328 |

asked the man who dwelt there for a night's lodging, but he
got a rude answer, for he was dusty and travel-stained, and the
owner of the hut had no mind to entertain a vagabond.

Hurt by the man’s roughness, the boy wandered farther till
he came to a river in which he bathed his dusty limbs. Then he
struck the horn, for he was hungry as well as weary, and from
it there came not only meat and drink, but a mantle of skins
and ornaments of brass, such as those worn by the sons of a
chief. Clad thus, the next day the boy traveled farther on till he
reached a village, and at the sight of the stranger in such regal
attire, the headman came forward and bade him to a feast. He
was treated with all honour and remained with the headman
for many days.

Now the headman had a beautiful daughter and, seeing how
fair she was and how gentle, the boy loved her, and the girl’s
heart answered to his. This being so, her father ordered oxen to
be slain and a great feast prepared to celebrate their marriage.

Ever after they lived in peace and plenty, for the horns never
failed to yield food and raiment, and all good things in
abundance.

| 329

40. Tanga, the Child of
Night

[From Native Fairy Tales of South Africa by Ethel
McPherson, 1919. See item #138 in the Bibliography.]

Long ago there lived a woman who had no children, and her
husband never ceased to reproach her on this account. Her
grief was bitter, and she suffered much from his unkindness
until he left her. In her loneliness she was happier than in the
days when she had to bear his harsh words.

Left to herself, she often lingered by the river, and when at
night the moonlight turned the surface of the stream into a
silver mirror, she would sit for hours on its banks. Her favourite
resting-place was beneath a spreading date-palm, and there
she would remain through the quiet hours listening to the
plash of the waters till the sun came up in glory over the world’s
edge.

Sometimes she wept, thinking of the child which would
never now be hers. One night when her tears had fallen fast,
she heard the piping of a bird and, looking round, she saw a
little wagtail hopping about restlessly in front of her. She held
out her hand; the bird perched on her finger and then sprang
to her shoulder, straining to reach her ear. It was clear that he
had something to say to her, so she bent her head to catch
his message. Before long, he twittered softly that she would
possess a baby girl, fairer than any other that had gladdened a
mother’s heart. She was to be named Tanga, and lest ill should
befall her, she must never leave the shelter of the hut from the
rising of the sun until its setting. Under the starlit sky, in the
gracious moonlight, she would grow more beautiful than the
moon herself.

330 |

The woman's heart sang with gladness, and night after night
she sat beside the river thinking of the joy that was to be hers.
The little bird came always to share her happiness, but when
at last her babe was born, the bird vanished and was heard no
more.

Now began happy days for the mother. Through the hours
when the sun, the Eye of Day, ruled in the heavens, she kept
the child safe within the hut, but when night fell, she took her
to her resting-place beneath the date-palm and watched her
grow in beauty, softly bright like unto the moon and stars.

Years passed, till Tanga was a full-grown maiden. The fame
of her beauty spread about the countryside till it reached the
ears of her father, who, filled with remorse and a longing to see
his fair daughter, returned to his wife. He gave a great feast to
which were bidden all the chiefs from the neighbouring kraals,
and among them were many suitors for Tanga’s hand. The girl's
choice fell upon a youth who, for strength and courage, was
worthy of her.

When the wedding feast was over, Tanga took leave of the
mother who loved her so tenderly and left the home of which
she had long been the joy.

The bridal procession set forth under the stars, for the
bridegroom had been warned that evil would befall his wife if
she went abroad by day, and he had sworn to shield her from
harm.

Tanga would have been happy and blessed in her new home
as her husband loved her with a great love, but for his father’s
hatred. From the first he had distrusted this strange bride who
kept within the shelter of the hut while the sun ruled and who
wandered forth only at night. He called her harsh names and
gave her cold looks, nor was he kinder when her child was born,
but he continued to lash her with his tongue in spite of his son’s
remonstrances.

When the boy was but a few months old, Tanga’s husband
had to go upon a long journey. After his departure, her troubles

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increased, for the old man grew more cruel every day. Knowing
that Tanga dared not venture into the daylight, he plotted to
make her leave her hut before sunset, and one morning he
commanded her to fetch him water from the spring. In vain
she begged him not to send her; he swore that if she did not
go, he would beat her.

In her hut there was water standing in a calabash; this Tanga
sent to him as if she had fetched it from the stream. But the old
man, who had been watching, knew that she had not ventured
into the daylight and flung it to the ground, saying that it was
not fresh. Going in anger to her hut, he raised his stick and
compelled her to leave its shelter. Tanga, weeping, took the pot
to the river, but when she leaned over the bank to fill it, the
Water Spirit rose and dragged the water from her hand.

She returned to the kraal with the empty pot, but though she
told the tyrant what had happened, he drove her back again.
This time when the Water Spirit rose, he seized her and bore
her to his home beneath the waters where he dwelt in state.
Wooing Tanga very tenderly, he begged her to be his wife,
bringing her chains of rare shells to hang round her neck and
crowning her with garlands of blue water lilies. But Tanga said
no to all his entreaties and wept ceaselessly for the baby boy
whom she had left.

There was sorrow and consternation in the kraal at her
disappearance, and the old man began to fear his son’s anger.
None of the women could soothe her babe’s cries, and when
night fell, the nurse took him in her arms and carried him to the
stream. The sound of his weeping reached Tanga beneath the
water, and she rose to the surface, holding out her arms. The
little thing knew her, and with a gurgle of delight he stretched
out his own arms in return. Fairer than ever in her garland of
blue lilies, with the chain of gleaming shells round her neck,
Tanga took him to her heart and held him in a close embrace
till the night faded and the sun rose over the horizon. Then she
gave him to the nurse, bidding her return at sunset.

332 |

Each night the nurse came back with the child and, soothed
by the hours spent with his mother, he thrived and ceased to
fret in the daytime.

The old man, suspecting that Tanga was alive and in hiding,
questioned the nurse as to where she went when she was out
with the child. She answered that she walked in the woods and
fed him on wild berries which satisfied his hunger.

Time passed, and at last Tanga’s husband returned and
demanded to know what had become of her. When he learnt
what had happened, his anger knew no bounds; he would
listen to none of his father’s excuses. Seeing, however, that the
child was thriving, he also questioned the nurse, who told him
all.

That evening he too went down to the river and hid himself
among the reeds. As Tanga rose to the surface of the water at
the sound of her baby’s cries, he came out and flung round
her a rope he had brought. But the Water Spirit, who knew
all Tanga did, seized her and dragged her down again, with a
roar of anger causing the waters to rise till they overflowed the
banks. So enraged was he that the tide was red as blood, and
the blood-red tide followed Tanga’s husband back even as far
as the kraal.

For many moons Tanga was not seen again, and the child
wept uncomforted. But night after night she was heard singing
beneath the waters, and her husband, seated on the riverbank,
heard her voice raised in pleading. “Why do they not send to
my father and mother?” she chanted sadly. “Here | lie a captive,
but my mother could bring me back to earth.” Then the singing
ended, and there was no sound, none save that of weeping.

As her husband went back to the kraal, wondering whom he
could send to her parents as a messenger, a rooster stepped
in front of him, saying, “Master, send me. They will heed what |
say.”

“Go,” he replied, “and luck be with you.”

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For two days and two nights the rooster journeyed till he
came to the kraal where Tanga’s parents dwelt.

As he entered, the boys threw stones at him, but he lifted
his wings and flew on to the roof of the chief’s hut, where he
crowed so loudly that all the people came running to know
what might be the meaning of the disturbance.

All having assembled, he told the story of Tanga’s captivity
and of the cruel father-in-law. When he had ended, he was fed
with corn, and Tanga’s parents treated him with great honour.
With him for a guide, they set out to rescue her, for Tanga’s
mother was a worker of spells and charms. When they reached
the village where dwelt Tanga’s husband, her mother ordered
an ox to be slain — an ox which bore her daughter’s name
and was for her use alone. The beast having been slain, she cut
up its flesh into pieces, muttering charms as she did so. These
pieces she flung into the river; as they sank, Tanga rose to the
surface and swam to the bank, for now the power of the Water
Spirit was ended forever.

Her husband was waiting there to receive her, holding their
child in his arms. In triumph, Tanga, the lost wife, was led back
to the village, where the rest of her days were spent in peace
and happiness with those she loved.

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4]. The Snake with Five
Heads

Fr. A GREAT SNAKE WITH FIVE HEADS WAS CLOSE BESIDE HER

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[From Native Fairy Tales of South Africa by Ethel
McPherson, 1919. See item #138 in the Bibliography. The
illustration is by Helen Jacobs.]

At the foot of a high mountain there dwelt a man who had
two daughters, the elder of whom was named Kazi and the
younger Zanyani. Kazi was a tall, beautiful girl, but she was
selfish and bad-tempered and always quarreling with her
father and Zanyani. She was lazy, too, and never took her share
of the work, but left Zanyani to gather the firewood, draw the
water, and mend the thatch of the hut. If she could help it, she
would never grind the corn, and when she baked the bread, it
was always burnt to cinders.

In fact, Kazi was so disagreeable and troublesome that as
soon as she was grown up, her father determined to find her a
husband so he and Zanyani might be able to live in peace.

One day he set out upon a journey, leaving the girls to take
care of themselves. When he came to the village to which he
was bound, he got through his business as quickly as he could
and then went to drink beer and talk with his friends.

They told him all the news of the village — how there had
been a swarm of locusts which had eaten half the crops, how a
leopard had come down from the hills and killed three sheep,
and, most exciting of all, that the chief wanted a wife. The chief
of this village was a great and powerful ruler, but he had never
been seen by his people. Some said that he had five heads,
each with cruel jaws and a pointed tongue, and that he ate all
who angered him.

When Kazi’s father heard that the chief was looking for a wife,
he said to himself that his elder daughter would be just the
right bride for him since she was so proud and so self-willed
that she would never allow him to bully her, while she was
so haughty that he knew she would never consent to marry
anyone less than a chief.

336 |

When he reached home again, he said to his daughters,
“Which of you would like a chief for a husband?”

“| would,” said Kazi, not giving Zanyani a chance to speak.

“Let it be so,” answered the father. “Tomorrow | will call
together my friends, and we will escort you to a great chief who
is seeking a wife.”

“| do not want you or your friends,” answered Kazi rudely. “I
will go by myself.”

At this her father was angry, for it was not fitting that a
daughter of his should go unattended to her bridegroom, or
without an ox for the wedding feast. Knowing, however, that it
were easier to check the wind in its course than to tame the will
of his daughter, he bade her do as she pleased.

Early next morning Kazi rose and adorned herself with her
anklets and armlets of brass, hanging round her throat a
necklace of bright-coloured beads. When she looked at her
image in the clear pool beside the hut, she laughed with
pleasure, for in truth she was fair enough to win the heart of
any man, even if she came to him empty-handed.

Then she ran back to the hut and, having filled a basket
with bread and wild fruit, she set out on her journey. The sun
was rising over the edge of the veld, touching the hill-tops
with golden light; the air was frosty, and Kazi ran as quickly
as her feet could carry her till the blood tingled in her veins,
and she began to sing for gladness. She cared nothing for her
father’s displeasure. Why should not she, the beautiful Kazi, go
unattended to the village of her bridegroom? Let girls less fair
than she take gifts of oxen; let these, if they chose, go escorted
by their fathers and the village folk!

When she was a league or so from home, Kazi sat down
beside a tall aloe to eat her morning meal and to bask in the
warm sunshine.

By and by, something touched her foot and, glancing down,
she saw a mouse which looked up at her as if it had something
to say.

| 337

“What is it, little sister?” she asked, and the mouse replied,
“Shall | show you the way to the chief?”

Kazi laughed scornfully and said, “Go away, you foolish little
creature. Do you think | cannot find my way to him without
the help of a little brown mouse like you?” And she pushed it
roughly from her.

“If you go alone, you will meet with trouble,” said the mouse,
but Kazi only laughed, and the small creature ran away.

When she was rested, Kazi rose and continued her journey
till she came to a brook which was overhung by trees. Sitting
down on the bank, she put her feet into the cool running water.
It was now noon, and the warm silence was unbroken save for
the croaking of the frogs. Feeling much refreshed, Kazi again
went on her way.

By and by, she saw an old woman sitting on a stone by the
wayside. The old woman greeted her and said, “| Know who you
are and where you are going, and therefore | give you warning.
Toward sunset you will come to a wood where the trees grow
thick as the blades of grass. When you enter this wood, they
will mock you with their laughter, but heed them not, for they
cannot hurt you unless you laugh back. If you do, then beware,
for harm will befall you. On the edge of the wood you will see
a calabash of amasi lying on the ground, but no matter even
if you are faint with hunger, touch it not. When you have gone
farther, you will meet a man carrying a pot of water, and he will
offer you a draught, but though your tongue cleave to the roof
of your mouth, beware of letting a drop pass your lips.”

“First a mouse, and now an old woman,” said Kazi, tossing her
head. “What wise counselors! Thank you for your good advice,
but | shall do just as | please!”

The old woman made no answer, and Kazi went her way,
singing defiantly. By and by, she came to the wood of which
she had been told, and in the gathering darkness she heard
the sound of mocking laughter. She entered boldly, but soon

338 |

her anger rose, for it seemed as if the trees were pointing their
branches like long fingers and making fun of her.

The mocking laughter grew louder as she went deeper into
the wood, and the trees bent and shook with merriment. Kazi
grew still more angry. How dare they laugh at her expense!
Were not all who knew her proud spirit afraid of her, and was
she to be jeered at by trees? The wood was dark and thickly
grown, and from its secret places came the cruel sound in
rising notes. It was too much; Kazi stamped her foot in anger
and then laughed back — a laugh as cruel and mocking as that
of the trees.

For a moment there was silence, and so still was the air that
the girl’s heart stopped beating. Thick darkness gathered
round her, and there was a deep roll of thunder. Then from the
depths of the wood came a peal of laughter, louder and more
pitiless than before.

Kazi was so terrified that she began to run and never stopped
till she reached the edge of the wood and found herself out on
the open veld. Panting with fear, she lay down on the grass to
rest and to regain her courage, and by and by, when she was
refreshed, she sat up and looked about her. A few yards away
lay a calabash of amasi, just as the old woman had foretold, but
though Kazi remembered the warning, she did not heed it and
eagerly drank the milk.

It was now almost dark, but Kazi had no mind to lie down to
rest so near the wood of mocking laughter. So she continued
her journey, and after she had gone some little distance, she
saw coming toward her the strange figure of whom the old
woman had spoken.

It was a sight to make anyone shake with fear, for as he drew
near, Kazi saw that under one arm the man carried his head,
and a water-pot under the other. He was bent almost double
and walked with a strange, shuffling gait.

Kazi was a bold girl, but if she had not been determined to set
at naught the old woman’s warning, she would have run away

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from him. Conquering her fears, she walked boldly up to him
and asked him for a drink of water.

Without a word he handed her the calabash, and the girl
drank, trembling the while, for the black eyes of the head
which he carried under his arm rolled without ceasing, and its
teeth chattered noisily.

When the man was out of sight, Kazi lay down and slept, and
early next morning she made ready to enter the village where
lived the chief whose bride she intended to be.

When the people saw the tall, beautiful stranger, they
gathered round her, asking who she was and why she had
come.

“| have come to be the wife of your chief,” she answered
haughtily.

“But where is your escort, and where are your oxen? Who
ever knew a bride come to her husband without a retinue? The
chief is away and will not return till nightfall, but you had best
go yonder into his hut and prepare his food.”

The women of the kraal then led the stranger to the empty
hut and gave her corn to grind.

Now Kazi had always left the grinding of the corn to her sister,
and because she was unaccustomed to the task, the flour was
full of hard lumps. The next thing was to make the flour into
cakes and put them to bake, but so careless was Kazi that she
let them burn black.

“I can’t grind corn, and | can’t cook,” said she, “but what does
it matter? For when | am the wife of the great chief, | shall do
no work.”

It was now growing late, and Kazi went to the door of the
hut to watch for the coming of her bridegroom. The moon
had risen and was flooding the veld with light, but there was
no sign of an approaching figure, and long did Kazi wait,
wondering whence he would come.

All at once the sky was darkened, and the hut was suddenly
filled with a rushing wind. In a moment the storm ceased, and

340 |

Kazi saw that a great snake with five heads was close beside
her. In each of the five heads gleamed a pair of fiery eyes, which
were fixed upon her.

“So you are my wife,” said the terrible being. The proud Kazi
meekly bent her head and waited the pleasure of this horrible
bridegroom.

“You are fair to look upon,” he said, “but bring me the cakes
you have made ready for my supper. | am hungry.”

Kazi looked at the blackened cakes, and for the first time in
her life she felt sorry that she was so poor a cook. Trembling,
she laid them before the snake, who glanced at them with
scorn.

“True,” he said, “you are fair to look upon, but you are a
careless, idle woman,” and he struck her a blow which killed
her.

About a year after Kazi’s death, news went round that the
chief was again seeking a wife, and Zanyani’s father asked her
whether she would like to be the bride. The girl consented, and
her father chose from his herd a fat ox for slaughter at the
wedding feast. Then he summoned his companions to escort
the bride, and Zanyani, like a well-mannered maiden, raised no
objection.

When all was ready, she set out, attended by her father and
a procession of warriors in their bravery of waving plumes and
brightly polished spears. As they went upon their way, they
sang and rejoiced.

On the first part of the journey, they met with no adventures.
They passed through the mocking wood, hearing no sound
but the rustle of leaves, and no headless monster met them,
but when they neared the village the little mouse ran out and
stopped in front of the bride, saying, “Shall | show you the
way?”

“If it please you, little sister,” answered she, and the mouse
guided them to a place where two roads met, and then it
vanished into the bush.

| 341

At the crossroads the old woman was waiting, and she bade
them follow the road to the left.

About half a mile from the village to which they were bound,
the procession halted to rest, and Zanyani strayed a little from
the path. Presently a girl carrying a water-pot came toward
her and stopped to ask her who she was and why she thus
wandered by herself.

“| have come to be the bride of the chief of yonder village,”
she answered.

“He is my brother,” said the stranger. “Since you are to be my
sister, let me tell you that, strange and fierce as he seems, he
is gentle and good to those whom he loves, and you need not
fear. Go to his hut with your father and the bridal escort,” she
continued. “There my mother will give you corn to grind. When
you have ground it, bake it into cakes, and if these are good, my
brother will treat you well.”

Zanyani thanked the girl and took leave of her; then,
returning to her father, she told him what had happened.

The journey was now resumed, and the procession escorted
Zanyani to her husband's hut. As the friendly stranger had said,
the chief’s mother was waiting to receive her new daughter-in-
law. She gave the bride corn to grind and then left her alone in
the hut.

By and by, there lay ready a row of cakes made of fine flour,
baked as only a skilled cook could bake them, and Zanyani sat
down to wait the coming of the bridegroom.

Night fell, and presently there came the sound of a rushing
wind, and the snake with five heads came forth. He glanced
first at the bride and then at the cakes, and into his fierce eyes
came a gentler light.

Having swallowed the cakes and finding them good, he
turned to Zanyani, saying, “Are these of your baking?”

Zanyani bent her head in assent, and the horrible form began
to change. From the scaly slough of skin that fell from him

342 |

there rose a tall and handsome warrior. He looked tenderly
upon the girl.

“You have freed me from the spell which has lain upon me
this many a year,” he told her. “It could only be broken by the
willing service of a gentle wife. ”

Then the chief came forth among his people, and the
wedding was celebrated with feasting and joy.

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344 |

42. The Leopard of the
Fine Skin

[From Where Animals Talk: West African Folklore
Tales by Robert Nassau, 1912. See item #147 in the
Bibliography.]

At the town of King Ra-Mborakinda, where the king lived with
his wives and his children and his glory, this occurred.

The king had a beloved daughter, by name Ilambe. He loved
her much, and sought to please her in many ways, and gave
her many servants to serve her. When she grew up to
womanhood, she said that she did not wish anyone to come
to ask her in marriage; she herself would choose a husband.
“Moreover, | will never marry any man who has any blotch on
his skin, not even so much as a little bit.”

Her father did not like her to speak in that way; nevertheless,
he did not forbid her.

When men began to come to the father and say, “I desire
your daughter llambe for a wife,” he would say, “Go, and ask
her yourself.” Then when the man went to Ilambe’s house and
would say, “| have come to ask you in marriage,” her only reply
was a question, “Have you a clear skin and no blotches on your
body?” If he answered, “Yes,” Ilambe would say, “But | must
see for myself; come into my room.” There she required the
man to take off all his clothing. And if, on examination, she
saw the slightest pimple or scar, she would point toward it and
say, “That! | do not want you.” Then perhaps he would begin to
plead, “All my skin is right, except — .” But she would interrupt
him, “No! For even that little mark | do not want you.”

So it went on with all who came, she finding fault with even
a small pimple or scar. And all suitors were rejected. The news

| 345

spread abroad that Ra-Mborakinda had a beautiful daughter,
but that no one was able to obtain her because of what she
said about diseases of the skin. Still, many tried to obtain her.
Even animals changed themselves to human form and sought
her, in vain.

At last, the leopard said, “Ah, this beautiful woman! | hear
about her beauty and that no one is able to get her. | think |
better take my turn and try. But first | will go to Marange the
magic-doctor.” He went to that magic-doctor and told his story
about the king's fine daughter, and how no man could get her
because of her fastidiousness about skins. Marange told him, “1
am too old. | do not now do those things about medicines. Go
to Ogula the sorcerer.”

So, the leopard went to Ogula. The sorcerer jumped into his
fire and, coming out with power, he directed the leopard to
tell what he wanted. So the leopard told the whole story again
and asked how he should obtain the clean body of a man. The
sorcerer prepared for him a great medicine by which to give
him a human body that was tall, graceful, strong, and clean.
The leopard then went back to his town, told his people his
plans, and prepared their bodies also for a change if needed.
Having taken also the sorcerer’s name as his own human
name, Ogula, he then went to King Ra-Mborakinda, saying, “1,
Ogula, wish your daughter Ilambe for wife.”

On his arrival, the people admired the stranger and felt sure
that Ilambe would accept this suitor, exclaiming, “This fine-
looking man! His face! And his gait! And his body!” When he
had made his request of the king, he was told, as usual, to go
to Ilambe and see whether she would like him. When he went
to her house, he looked so handsome that Ilambe was at once
pleased with him. He told her, “I love you, and | come to marry
you. You have refused many. | know the reason why, but | think
you will be satisfied with me.” She replied, “I think you have
heard from others the reason for which | refuse men. | will see

346 |

whether you have what | want.” And she added, “Let us go into
the room, and let me see your skin.”

They entered the room, and Ogula removed his fine clothing.
llambe examined him with close scrutiny from his head to
his feet. She found not the slightest scratch or mark; his skin
was like a babe’s. Then she said, “Yes! This is my man, truly! |
love you, and | will marry you!” She was so pleased with her
acquisition that she remained in the room enjoying again a
minute examination of her husband’s beautiful skin. Then she
went out and ordered her servants to cook food and prepare
water for him, and he did not go out of the house nor have a
longing to go back to his town, for he found that he was loved.

On the third day, he went to tell her father the king that he
was ready to take his wife off to his town. King Ra-Mborakinda
consented. All that day, they prepared food for the marriage-
feast. But, all the while that this man-beast, Ogula the leopard,
was there, Ra-Mborakinda by his magic fetish knew that some
evil would come out of this marriage. However, as Ilambe had
insisted on choosing her own way, he did not interfere.

After the marriage was over and the feast eaten, Ra-
Mborakinda called his daughter and said, “Ilambe mine, now
you are going off on your journey.” She said, “Yes, for | love
my husband.” The father asked, “Do you love him truly?” She
answered, “Yes.” Then he told her, “As you are married now, you
need a present from me as your bridal gift.” So, he gave her
a few presents and told her, “Go to that house,” indicating a
certain house in the town, and he gave her the key of the house
and told her to go and open the door. That was the house
where he kept all his charms for war and fetishes of all kinds.
He told her, “When you go in, you will see two horses standing
side by side. The one that will look a little dull, with its eyes
directed to the ground, take it, and leave the brighter-looking
one. When you are coming with it, you will see that it walks a
little lame. Nevertheless, take it.” She objected, “But, father, why
do you not give me the finer one, and not the weak one?” But

| 347

he said, “No!” and he made a knowing smile as he repeated,
“Go, and take the one | tell you.” He had reason for giving this
one. The finer-looking one had only fine looks, but this other
one would someday save her by its intelligence.

She went and took the horse and returned to her father, and
the journey was prepared. The father sent with her servants to
carry the baggage and to remain with and work for her at the
town of her marriage. She and her husband arranged all their
things, and said good-bye, and off they went, both of them
sitting on the horse’s back.

They journeyed and they journeyed. On the way, the leopard,
though changed as to his form and skin, possessed all his old
tastes. Having been so many days without tasting blood or
uncooked meats, as they passed through the forest of wild
beasts the longing came on him. They emerged onto a great
prairie and journeyed across it toward another forest. Before
they had entirely crossed the prairie, the longing for his prey
so overcame him that he said, “Wife, you, with your horse and
the servants, stay here while | go rapidly ahead, and wait for
me until | come again.” So he went off, entered the forest,
and changed himself back to the leopard. He hunted for prey,
caught a small animal, and ate it, and another, and ate it. After
being satisfied, he washed his hands and mouth in a brook
and, changing again to human form, he returned on the prairie
to his wife.

She observed him closely and saw a hard, strange look on his
face. She said, “But all this while, what have you been doing?”
He made an excuse. They went on.

And the next day, it was the same, he leaving her and telling
her to wait till he returned, and hunting and eating as the
leopard. All this that was going on, Ilambe was ignorant of. But
the horse knew. He would speak after a while, but he was not
ready yet.

So it went on, until they came to Ogula’s town. Before they
reached it, by the preparations he had first made he had

348 |

changed his mother into a human form in which to welcome
his wife. Also the few people of the town, all with human forms,
welcomed her. But they did not sit much with her. They stayed
in their own houses, and Ogula and his wife stayed in theirs. For
a few days, Ogula tried to be pleasant, deceiving his wife. But
his taste for blood was still in his heart. He began to say, “I am
going to another town; | have business there.” And off he would
go, hunting as a leopard; when he returned, it would be late in
the day. So he did on other days.

After a time, Ilambe wished to make a food-plantation, and
she sent her men-servants to clear the ground. The leopard
would go around in the forest on the edge of the plantation
and, as he caught one of the men, there would return that day
one servant less.

One by one, all the men-servants were thus missing, and
it was not known what became of them, except that Ogula’s
people knew. One night the leopard was out and, after he met
one of the female servants, she too was reported missing.

Sometimes, when Ogula was away, Ilambe, feeling lonesome,
would go and pet the horse. After the loss of this maid-servant,
he thought it was time to warn Ilambe of what was going
on. While she was petting him, he said, “Eh! Ilambe! You do
not see the trouble that is coming to you!” She asked, “What
trouble?” He exclaimed, “What trouble? If your father had not
sent me with you, what would have become of you? Where are
all your servants that you brought with you? You do not know
where they go to, but | know. Do you think that they disappear
without a reason? | will tell you where they go. It is your man

Ogula who eats them; it is he who wastes them!” She could not
believe it and argued, “Why should Ogula destroy them?” The
horse replied, “If you doubt it, wait for the day when your last
remaining servant is gone.”

Two days after that, at night, another maid-servant

disappeared. Another day passed. On the next day, Ogula the

| 349

leopard went off to hunt beasts with the intention that, if he
failed to get any, at night he would eat his wife.

When he had gone, Ilambe, in her loneliness, went to pet
the horse. He said to her, “Did | not tell you? The last maid is
gone. You yourself will be the next one. | will give you counsel.
When you have opportunity this night, prepare yourself ready
to run away. Get yourself a large gourd and fill it with peanuts,
another with gourd-seeds, and another with water.” He told her
to bring these things to him, and he would know the best time
to start.

While they were talking, the leopard’s mother was out in
the street, and she heard the two voices. She said to herself,
“Ilambe, wife of my son, does she talk with the horse as if it was
a person?” But she said nothing to Ilambe, nor asked her about
it.

Night came on, and Ogula returned. He said nothing, but his
face looked hard and bad. Ilambe was troubled and somewhat
frightened at his ugly looks. So, at night, on retiring, she began
to ask him, “But why, Ogula my husband? Has anything
displeased you?” He answered, “No, | am not troubled about
anything. Why do you ask questions?” “Because | see it in your
face that your countenance is not pleasant.” “No, there’s
nothing the matter. Everything is right. Only about my
business, | think | must start very early.” Ogula the leopard had
begun to think, “Now she Is suspecting me. | think | will not eat
her this night but will put it off until next night.”

That night, Ilambe did not sleep. In the morning, Ogula said
that he would go to his business but would come back soon.
When he was gone away to his hunting work, llambe felt
lonesome and went to the horse. He, thinking this a good time
to run away, they started at once, without letting anyone in the
village know and taking with them the three gourds. He said
that they must go quickly, for the leopard, when he discovered
them gone, would rapidly pursue. So they went fast and faster,

350 |

the horse looking back from time to time to see whether the
leopard was pursuing.

After they had been gone quite a while, Ogula returned from
his business to his village, went into his house, and did not see
llambe. He called to his mother, “Where is llambe?” His mother
answered, “| saw Ilambe with her horse, talking together; they
have been at it for two days.” The leopard began to search
and, seeing the hoofprints, he exclaimed, “Alas! Ilambe has run
away. | and she shall meet today!”

Ogula instantly turned from his human form back to that
of the leopard and went out, and pursued, and pursued, and
pursued. But it took some time before he came in sight of the
fugitives. As the horse turned to watch, he saw the leopard, his
body stretched low and long in rapid leaps. He said to Ilambe,
“Did | not tell you? There he is, coming!” The horse hastened,
with foam dropping from his lips. When he saw that the
leopard was gaining on them, he told Ilambe to take the gourd
of peanuts from his back and scatter them along behind on
the ground. Leopards like peanuts, and when he came to these
nuts, he stopped to eat them. While he was eating, the horse
gained time to get ahead. As soon as the leopard had finished
the nuts, he started on in pursuit again and soon began to
overtake them. When he approached, the horse told llambe
to throw out the gourd-seeds. She did so. The leopard delayed
to eat these seeds also. This gave the horse time to again get
ahead. Thus they went on.

Having finished the gourd-seeds, the leopard again went
leaping in pursuit and, for the third time, came near. The horse
told Ilambe to throw the gourd of water behind, forcefully, so
that it might crash and break on the ground. As soon as she
had done so, the water was turned to a stream of a deep, wide
river between them and the leopard. Then the leopard was ata
loss. So he shouted, “Ah! Ilammbe! Alas! If | only had a chance to
catch you!” and he had to turn back.

| 351

Then the horse said, “We do not know what he may do yet;
perhaps he may go around and across ahead of us. As there
is a town which | know near here, we had better stay there a
day or two while he may be searching for us.” He added to her,
“Mind! This town where we are going, no woman is allowed to
be there, only men. So, | will change your face and dress like
a man’s. Be very careful how you behave when you take your
bath, lest you die.” Ilambe promised, and the horse changed
her appearance. So, a fine-looking young man was seen riding
into the street of the village. There were exclamations in the
street, “This is a stranger! Hail, stranger! Hail! Who showed you
the way to come here?” This young man answered, “Myself! |
was out riding; | saw an open path, and | came in.” He entered
a house and was welcomed, and they told him their times of
eating and of play.

But on the second day, as this young man went out privately,
one of the men noticed and said to the other, “He acts like a
woman!” The others asked, “Really! You think so?” He asserted,
“Yes! | am sure!” So, that day Ilambe was to meet with some
trouble for, to prove her, the men had said to her, “Tomorrow
we all go bathing in the river, and you shall go with us.” She
went to ask the horse what she should do. He rebuked her,
“| warned you, and you have not been careful. But do not be
troubled; | will change you into a man.”

That night, llambe went to the horse, and he changed her. He
also told her, “I warn you again. Tomorrow you go to bathe with
the others, and you may take off your clothes for you are now a
man. But it is only for a short time because we stay here only a
day anda night more, and then we must go.”

The next morning all the town went to play and, after that,
to bathe. When they went into the water, the other men were
all expecting to see a woman revealed, but they saw that their
visitor was a man. They admired his wonderfully fine physique.
On emerging from the water, the men said to the one who
had informed on Ilambe, “Did you not tell us that this was a

352 |

woman? See how great a man he is!” As soon as they said
that, the young man Ilambe was vexed with him and began
to berate him, saying, “Eh! You said | was a woman?” And she
chased him and struck him. Then they all went back to the
town.

In the evening, the horse told Ilambe, “I tell you what to do
tomorrow. In the morning, you take your gun and shoot me
dead. After you have shot me, these men will find fault with
you, saying ‘Ah! You shoot your horse, and did not care for it?’
But do not say anything in reply. Cut mein pieces and burn the
pieces in the fire. After this, carefully gather all the black ashes
and, very early in the following morning, in the dark before
anyone is up, go out of the village gateway, scatter the ashes,
and you will see what will happen.”

The young man did all this. On scattering the ashes, he
instantly found himself changed again to a woman and sitting
on the horse's back, and they were running rapidly away.

That same day, in the afternoon, they came to the town of
llambe’s father, King Ra-Mborakinda. On their arrival there,
they — but especially the horse — told their whole story. llambe
was somewhat ashamed of herself for she had brought these
troubles on herself by insisting on having a husband with a
perfectly fine skin. So her father said, “Ilambe, my child, you see
the trouble you have brought on yourself. For you, a woman, to
make such a demand was too much. Had | not sent the horse
with you, what would have become of you?”

The people gave Ilambe a glad welcome. And she went to her
house and said nothing more about fine skins.

| 353

43. Tortoise in a Race

[From Where Animals Talk: West African Folklore
Tales by Robert Nassau, 1912. See item #147 in the
Bibliography.]

Kudu the Tortoise had formerly lived in the same town with
several other animals. But after a while, they had decided to
separate, and each built his own village.

One day, Tortoise decided to roam. So he started and went
on an excursion, leaving his wife and two children in the village.
On his way, he came to the village of Mbalanga the Antelope.
The latter welcomed him, killed a chicken, and prepared food
for him, and they sat at the table, eating.

When they had finished eating, Antelope asked, “Kudu my
friend, what is your journey for?”

Tortoise answered, “| have come to inquire of you, as to you
and me, which is the elder?” Antelope replied, “Kudu! | am
older than you!” But Tortoise responded, “No, Mbalanga! | am
the elder!” Then Antelope said, “Show me the reason why you
are older than I!” Tortoise said, “I will show you a sign of
seniority. Let us have a race, as a test of speed.” Antelope replied
derisively, “Aiye! How shall | test soeed with Kudu? Does Kudu
race?” However, he agreed and said, “Well, in three days the
race shall be made.”

Tortoise spoke audaciously, “You, Mbalanga, cannot surpass
me in a race!” Antelope laughed, having accepted the
challenge, while Tortoise pretended to sneer and said, “| am the
one who will overcome!”

The course chosen, beginning on the beach south of
Batanga, was more than seventy miles from the Campo River
northward to the Balimba Country.

Then Tortoise went away, going everywhere to give
directions, and returned to his village. He sent word secretly to

354 |

all the Tortoise tribe to call them. When they had come very
many of them together, he told them, “I have called my friend
Mbalanga for a race. | know that he can surpass me in this
race unless you all help me in my plan. He will follow the sea-
beach. You all must line yourselves among the bushes at the
top of the beach along the entire route all the way from Campo
to Balimba. When Mbalanga, coming along, at any point looks
around to see whether | am following and calls out, ‘Kudu!
Where are you?’ the one of you who is nearest that spot must
step out from his place and answer for me, ‘Here!’”

Thus he located all the other tortoises in the bushes on the
entire route. Also, he placed a colored mark on all the tortoises,
making the face of every one alike. He stationed them clear
on to the place where he expected that Antelope would be
exhausted. Then he ended, taking his own place there.

Antelope also arranged for himself and said to his wife, “My
wife! Make me food, for Kudu and | have agreed on a race and
it begins at seven o'clock in the morning.”

When all was ready, Antelope said to the one whom he
supposed was Kudu, “Come! Let us race!” They started.
Antelope ran on and on, and came as far as about ten miles to
the town of Ubenji, among the Igara people. At various spots
on the way Tortoise apparently was lost behind but seemed to
reappear, saying, “I’m here!”

At once, Antelope raced forward rapidly — pu! pu! pu! — to
a town named lIpenyenye. Then he looked around and said,
“Where is Kudu?” A tortoise stepped out of the bushes, saying
“Here lam! You haven't run very fast.”

Antelope raced on until he reached the town of Beya. Again
looking around, he said, “Where is Kudu?” A tortoise stepped
out, replying, “I’m here!”

Antelope again raced until he reached the town Lolabe.
Again he asked, “Where is Kudu?” A tortoise replied, “Here |
am!”

| 355

Again Antelope raced on as far as from there to a rocky point
by the sea named llale-ja-moto, and then he called, “Wherever
is Kudu?” A tortoise, ready, answered, “Here | am!”

From thence he came on in the race another stretch of about
ten miles, clear to the town of Bongaheli of the Batanga people.
At each place on the route when Antelope, losing sight of
Tortoise, called, “Kudu! Where are you?” promptly the tortoise
on guard at that spot replied, “I’m here!”

Then on he went, steadily going, going, another stretch of
about twenty miles to Plantation Beach. Still the prompt reply
to Antelope’s call, “Kudu, where are you?” was: “I’m here!”

As he started away from Plantation Beach, the wearied
Antelope began to feel his legs tired. However, he pressed on to
Small Batanga, hoping for victory over his despised contestant.
But, on his reaching the edge of Balimba, the tortoise was
there, ready with his “I’m here!”

Finally, on reaching the end of the Balimba settlement,
Antelope fell down, dying, froth coming from his mouth, and
then he lay dead, being utterly exhausted with running. But
when Tortoise arrived, he took a magic medicine and restored
Antelope to life, and then exulted over him by beating him,
saying, “Don’t you show me your audacity another day by
daring to run with me! | have surpassed you!”

So, they returned separately to their homes on the Campo
River. Tortoise called together the Tortoise tribe, and Antelope
called all the Antelope tribe. And they met in a Council of all
the animals. Then Tortoise rose and spoke. “All you Kudu tribe!
Mbalanga said | would not surpass him in a race. But this day |

have surpassed him

So the Antelope tribe had to acknowledge, “Yes, you, Kudu,
have surpassed our champion. It’s a great shame to us, for we
had not supposed that a slow fellow, such as we thought you to
be, could possibly do it, being able to out-run a Mbalanga.”

356 |

44,.A Chain of
Circumstances

[From Where Animals Talk: West African Folklore
Tales by Robert Nassau, 1912. See item #147 in the
Bibliography.]

Kudu the Tortoise was a blacksmith, and he allowed other
people to use his bellows.

Etanda the Cockroach had a spear that was known of by
all people and things. One day, he went to the smithy at the
village of Tortoise.

When Cockroach started to work the bellows, as he looked
out in the street he saw Kuba the Chicken coming, and he said
to Tortoise, “I’m afraid that Kuba will catch me. What shall |
do?” So Tortoise told him, “Go and hide yourself off there in the
grass.” At once, Cockroach hid himself.

Then arrived Kuba the Chicken, and he, observing a spear
lying on the ground, asked Tortoise, “Is not this the spear of
Etanda the Cockroach?” Tortoise assented, “Yes, do you want
him?” And Chicken said, “Yes, where is he?” So Tortoise said, “He
hid himself in the grass on the ground yonder; catch him.” Then
Kuba the Chicken went, and caught Etanda the Cockroach,
and swallowed him.

When Kuba was about to go away to return to his place,
Tortoise said to him, “Come back! Work for me this fine
bellows!” As Chicken, willing to return a favor, was about to
stand at the bellows, he looked around and saw Uhingji the
Wildcat coming in the street. Chicken said to Tortoise, “Alas! I’m
afraid that Uhingi the Wildcat will see me; where shall | go?” So,
Tortoise says, “Go and hide!” Chicken did so.

| 357

When Wildcat came, he, seeing the spear, asked, “Is it not
so that this is the spear of Etanda the Cockroach?” Tortoise
replied, “Yes.” Wildcat asked him, “Where is Etanda?” He
replied, “Kuba the Chicken has swallowed him.” Wildcat
inquired, “And where is Chicken?” Tortoise showed him the
place where Chicken was hidden. And Uhingi the Wildcat went
and caught and ate Chicken.

When Wildcat was about to go, Tortoise called to him, “No!
Come work this fine bellows.” Wildcat set to work, but when he
looked into the street, he hesitated, for he saw Nje the Leopard
coming. Wildcat said to Tortoise, “I must go, lest Nje should see
me!” Then Tortoise said, “Go and hide in the grass.” So Wildcat
hid himself in the grass.

Leopard, having arrived and wondering about the spear,
asked Tortoise, “Is it not so that this is the spear of Etanda
the Cockroach?” Tortoise answered, “Yes.” Then Leopard asked,
“Where is Etanda?” Tortoise replied, “Kuba the Chicken has
swallowed him.” “And where is Kuba?” Tortoise answered,
“Uhingi the Wildcat has eaten him.” Then Leopard asked,
“Where then is Uhingi?” Tortoise asked, “Do you want him?
Go and catch him! He is hidden yonder there.” Then Nje the
Leopard caught and killed Wildcat.

Leopard was then going away, but Tortoise told him, “Wait!
Come work this fine bellows.” When Leopard was about to
comply, he looked around the street, and he saw a Man coming
with a gun carried on his shoulder. Leopard exclaimed, “Oh,
Kudu, | do not want to see a Man; let me go!” Then Tortoise said
to him, “Go and hide!” Leopard did so.

When the Man had come, and he saw the spear of
Cockroach, he inquired, “Is it not so that this is Cockroach’s
wonderful spear?” Tortoise answered, “Yes.” And the Man
asked, “Where then is Cockroach?” Tortoise answered, “Chicken
has swallowed him.” Man asked, “And where is Chicken?”
Tortoise answered, “Wildcat has eaten him.” Man asked, “And
where is Wildcat?” Tortoise answered, “Leopard has killed him.”

358 |

Man asked, “And where is Leopard?” Tortoise did not at once
reply, and Man asked again, “Where is Leopard?” The Tortoise
said, “Do you want him? Go and catch him! He has hidden
himself over there.”

Then the Man went and shot Leopard,

Who had killed Wildcat,

Who had eaten Chicken,

Who had swallowed Cockroach

Who owned the wonderful spear

At the smithy of Tortoise.

| 359

HAUSA
UPERSTITIONS

—

THE

360 |

45. The Spider Passes
ona Debt

[From Hausa __ Superstitions and Customs: An
Introduction to the Folk-Lore and the Folk by Arthur J.
N. Tremearne, 1913. See item #191 in the Bibliography.]

There was once a certain old woman who had a daughter, and,
when she was going to give her in marriage, the daughter said
that she had no bowls and no plates, and that she would not be
married without them. So the old woman, who had a bull, took
it to the slaughter-men and asked them to buy it; ten bowls
and ten plates was the price. But they said that they could not
give that for it.

Now the spider heard, and he came up and said that he
would buy the bull from the old woman, and that when her
daughter’s marriage was about to be performed, he would
bring ten plates and ten bowls. So the old woman handed over
the bull to the spider, and he took it home and killed it.

When the spider had cooked it, he poured the broth into a
pot, and took it, and placed it in the road, and he climbed a tree
above, and hid there. Now the goat was passing, and he was
very thirsty, so he came up and put his nose into the pot, and
immediately the pot caught hold of his nose.

Then the spider slid down and said, “Good.” And he
continued:

“The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you now, O goat!”

And the goat replied, “Very well, | agree.”

| 361

So the goat went to the river to drink water, and there a crab
seized his beard, and then the goat said:

“The crab is the catcher of the goat's beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman ’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O crab.”

And the crab replied, “Very well, | agree.”

Now when the daughter came to the stream, she trod upon
the crab, and the crab said:

“The daughter has stepped on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O daughter.”

And the daughter said, “Very well, | agree.”

So the daughter took the water that she had come to get and
was going home when the slipperiness caused her to fall, and
she spilt the water. Then she said:

“The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O slipperiness.”

And the slipperiness said, “Very well, | agree.”

Now the slipperiness stayed on the ground, and soon
afterwards a termite came and made a passage across the wet
place. Then the slipperiness sang:

“The termite has built on the slipperiness;

362 |

The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;
The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O termite.”

And the termite said, “Very well, | agree.”

After a little while, a certain bird came and built a nest upon
the termite’s hill, and then the termite said:

“The bird has alighted on the termite’s hill;

The termite built on the slipperiness;

The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman ’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O bird.”

And the bird said, “Very well, | agree.”

Now the bird stayed there, and one day a boy who was
shooting came along, and when he saw the bird sitting on the
termite-hill, he shot it. Then the bird said:

“The boy is the shooter of the poor little bird;

The bird alighted on the termite’s hill;

The termite built on the slipperiness;

The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider's broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O boy.”

| 363

And the boy said, “Very well, | agree.”

So the boy went home, and just as he had opened his mouth
to tell his mother about it, she covered him with blows. Then
the boy said:

“The mother is the beater of the poor little boy;

The boy is the shooter of the poor little bird;

The bird alighted on the termite’s hill;

The termite built on the slipperiness;

The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O mother.”

And the mother said, “Very well, | agree.”

Now it happened soon afterwards that a certain blacksmith
burned one of the mother’s cloths, and then she said:

“The blacksmith is the burner of the mother’s cloth;

The mother is the beater of the poor little boy;

The boy is the shooter of the poor little bird;

The bird alighted on the termite’s hill;

The termite built on the slipperiness;

The slipperiness made the daughter fall;

The daughter is the stepper on the poor little crab;

The crab is the catcher of the goat’s beard;

The goat is the drinker of the spider’s broth;

The spider is the buyer of the old woman’s bull

For ten large bowls and ten large plates;

The payment is upon you, O blacksmith.”

Then the blacksmith said, “Very well, | agree.”

364 |

Immediately all the blacksmiths started work, and made ten
bowls and ten plates, and took them to the mother.

The mother took them and gave them to the boy.

The boy took them and gave them to the bird.

The bird took them and gave them to the termite.

The termite took them and gave them to the slipperiness.

The slipperiness took them and gave them to the daughter.
The daughter took them and gave them to the crab.

The crab took them and gave them to the goat.

The goat took them and gave them to the spider.

And at last the spider took ten bowls and ten plates and gave
them to the old woman, just as he had promised when he
bought the bull whose flesh he ate.

That is an example of the spider’s cunning: he himself ate the
flesh of the bull, but he made others make the payment for
him, thus giving nothing in return for what he had got.

| 365

46. The Hyena and the
Spider Visit the King

[From Hausa __ Superstitions and Customs: An
Introduction to the Folk-Lore and the Folk by Arthur J.
N. Tremearne, 1913. See item #191 in the Bibliography.]

This is about a Hyena and a Spider.

The Spider said, “O Hyena, buy honey, and let us go and do
homage to the King,” and the Hyena replied, “Agreed.”

So they bought honey, and they were traveling on and on
when the Hyena said to the Spider, “Il am going into the bush
for a minute.” Then the Spider said, “Very well, but put down
your pot of honey and leave it here until you come back.” But
the Hyena replied, “Oh no, surely it is my own!” So she went into
the bush and drank the honey, and when she had done so, she
placed some dirt in the pot instead, and then she returned to
the Spider.

When they had arrived at the city, they went and saluted the
King, and they were made welcome and were given a lodging
in the palace. Then they took their pots — the Spider took his
pot, and the Hyena hers — and they said, “Here is the offering
which we make to the King.” So the Hyena’s pot was taken
and placed in the house, and the Spider’s was placed in the
entrance-hall, and when the Hyena’s pot was opened, dirt was
found in it, but when the Spider's pot was examined the people
found honey. So they went and told the King, and said, “Lo! In
the Hyena’s pot is only dirt,” and the King answered, “Oh, very
well, they have come to get something good from me; | know
what kind of a good thing the Hyena will get.”

366 |

In the evening, sleeping-mats were brought, and the people
said, “These are for the Hyena to sleep upon.” Then skins also
were brought, and they said “These are for the Spider.”

Now the Hyena would not agree to this, but the Spider said,
“Look here, Hyena, they said that | was to sleep on the skins,
and you on the mats. You say you will not agree; you want to
eat the skins, that’s why.” But the Hyena replied, “No, no, a real
friend would not act thus,” and so the Spider said, “Very well,
but look here, if you eat the skins, you will make me ashamed
of you.” So he gave her the skins, and she gave him the mats,
and he went and lay down.

During the first sleep she arose and started eating the skins,
and the Spider called out, “Oh, so you have begun eating
them?” But she replied, “No, no, it is a mouse.” Before dawn had
come, she had eaten the skins all up; there was nothing left
of them. And then the Spider said, “Alright, O Hyena, how are
you going to excuse yourself? How are you going to get out of
the scrape?” But the Hyena replied, “Oh! Cannot we say that
a thief has been here and has stolen the skins?” “Well, Hyena,
even if you do say it, the King will not believe you; he will know
it is you,” said the Spider. “I found a way in; | will find a way out
somehow,” was Hyena’s reply. So the people told the King, and
said that a thief had stolen the skins. But he replied, “Oh no, |
know quite well that the Hyena has eaten them.”

Then the King said, “I will say good-bye to them today.” And
he brought a bull and said to the Spider, “On account of the
present which you brought to me, | give you this bull.” But an
old goat was brought and given to the Hyena. Then the Spider
said that he thanked the King, and the Hyena said that she also
thanked him.

So off they started, and they were traveling on and on; the
Hyena was dragging the old goat along, when she said, “Let
me eat a leg! You can become lame; you are lame now.” So she
pulled off a leg and ate it, and kept saying to the goat, “Travel
with three-three, travel with three-three.” Then she pulled off

| 367

another leg and ate it, and kept saying to the goat, “Travel with
two-two, travel with two-two.” Then she pulled off a third leg
and ate it, and kept saying, “Travel with one-one, travel with
one-one.” Then she pulled off the remaining leg and ate it, and
kept saying, “Travel with none-none, travel with none-none.”
Then she took the rest of the body and ate it, but she left a
small piece of the liver which she gave to the Spider, and he ate
it.

Now they were traveling on and on when the Hyena said,
“Give me my piece of liver.” Then the Spider pointed out to her
the sun, which had nearly set and was very red, and said to
her, “See, there is fire over there; go and get some and return,
and we will eat the bull.” So the Hyena went off at a run, and
ran on and on, but the sun was always afar off. And when she
had gone, the Spider killed the bull, and took off the hide, and
climbed up a tree with the lot, not even the skin or a bone did
he leave, and he covered up the blood on the ground.

When she had become tired, the Hyena returned, and kept
calling, “Where is the Spider? Where is the Spider?” At last she
sat down on her haunches by a tree, and lo: it was the very tree
in which was the Spider.

After a little he threw a bone onto her head, and she said,
“Well, | never, will God give me food at the foot of a tree?”
But when she had eaten the bone, she looked up and saw the
Spider, and said, “Oh, so it is you? | thought that it was God,”
and she continued, “Spider, for God’s sake give me one of the
legs.” But the Spider said that he would not do so, and she
replied, “Very well, you are very brave because you are up in the
tree, aren’t you? | will get one who is taller than you to come
and seize you in the tree.”

Then she went and found the Ostrich, but when the Ostrich
came, the Spider made a noose of tie-tie, and he caught her,
and as he dragged her, she let fall an egg. Then the Hyena
pounced upon the egg, and ate it, and called out, “O Spider,
drag her so that the eggs will fall out.” But the Ostrich said, “Oh,

368 |

Hyena, is that how you would treat me? Release me, O Spider.”
And the Spider did so. Then the Hyena said, “Now let us have a
race,” and she went off at a run, and the Ostrich followed, but

she just escaped.
As for the Spider, he descended from the tree and went

home.

| 369

47. The Woman who
Bore a Clay Pot

[From Hausa _ Superstitions and Customs: An
Introduction to the Folk-Lore and the Folk by Arthur J.
N. Tremearne, 1913. See item #191 in the Bibliography.]

There was once a certain woman who had no son, and she
prayed to God saying, “Let me have a child, even though it bea
clay pot.” So God caused her to conceive, and after nine months
she brought forth a big clay pot which she took and placed
among her crockery.

Now, next morning, when the mother had gone to the forest
to look for firewood, the son, who was in the pot, emerged,
and also went to the forest to look for firewood. After a time he
came upon the place where the beasts of the forest had made
a hedge, and he began cutting it.

Then Gazelle said, “Hey, who is cutting this hedge?” for
Gazelle had been told to watch the place until the other beasts
returned. The boy said, “Let me come in and you will see me,”
and, when he had entered it, he said, “Here | am; | have come.”
“What is your name?” she asked. “The-Gift-of-God,” he replied,
and he continued, “Will you not give me some water to drink?”
So she brought him some, and he drank it, and then he said,
“Bring me some water to bathe my head.” When he had been
given it, he said, “Get up, and let us wrestle.”

So he wrestled with Gazelle and threw her, and he plucked
out her hair and tied her up with it. Then he went and cut the
wood, and took it home, and re-entered his clay pot.

In the late afternoon, the beasts of the forest returned to their
settlement, and when they saw what had happened, they said,
“O Gazelle, whatever have you been doing that you are tied

370 |

up?” And she replied, “A certain boy came and started cutting
wood, and when | remonstrated, we wrestled, and he bound
me up.” Then Hyena said, “Oh well, tomorrow | shall stay here
and keep guard.”

Next morning the boy came again and started to cut the
wood, and Hyena said, “Who are you?” He replied, “It is 1; who
are you?” So Hyena said, “Enter, that | may see you.” When the
boy had come into the cleared space inside the hedge, he said,
“Give me water to drink.” When she had given it to him, he said,
“Get me some water so that | may bathe my head,” and when
she had brought it, he said, “Get up, and let us wrestle.” Then
Hyena thought, “That boy has no sense; | am big and he is tiny.”
So she sprang upon him to seize him, but he caught her and
threw her on the ground, and he bound her, and left her, and
went back to his clay pot.

In the afternoon when the beasts returned, they loosed
Hyena, and said, “Whatever have you been doing that you are
bound thus?” And she replied, “A certain boy came and |
wrestled with him, but he threw me on the ground and bound
me.” Then Elephant said, “Oh! Very well, tomorrow | myself shall
stay and keep guard.”

When the morning came, the boy arrived and began cutting
the trees — kop-kop-kop — and Elephant said, “Who is that?”
He replied, “It is I,” and he entered the clearing. Then he said to
Elephant, “Give me water to drink,” and, when she had given it
to him, he said, “Get me some water so that | may bathe my
head,” and when she had brought it, he said, “Get up, and let us
wrestle.” And he threw Elephant also and bound her, and then
he went home.

Now when the beasts returned, they said, “This is quite
enough; since even Elephant is conquered, we must run away.”
So they began tying up their loads that afternoon in order that
they might flee.

But the boy, who had guessed their intention, came by night
to where they were, and got inside a jar of oil, and hid. When

| 371

dawn came, the beasts said, “Now, let each take his load and
escape, lest he come and catch us.” So off they started, and
they entered the depths of the forest far, far away.

After a time Hyena began to lag behind, and she said to
the others, “You go on; | will catch you up later,” and then she
opened the jar to steal some oil. But the boy dealt her a blow
and said, “Lift it up, and go on.” She was so frightened that she
took it up again, and ran, and ran, until she had overtaken the
others.

So they went on and came to the place which they were
going to make habitable, and then they said, “O Hyena, come
here and give us some oil.” But she said, “No, no,” for she was
afraid of the boy. They said, “For goodness’ sake, come and give
it to us,” but she still said, “No.”

Then Elephant grew angry, and seized the jar, and opened it,
and at once the boy dealt her a blow — pau! — and sprang out.
As he did so, all the animals ran away and left their belongings
behind, so he returned to the town and told the people, and
they came and seized all the loads and took them to his
mother.

After that he left the clay pot, and he never lived in it again.

372 |

48. How the Gazelle
Won His Wife

[From Congo Life and Folklore by John Weeks, 1921. See
item #197 in the Bibliography.]

Once upon a time there was a Gazelle that went in search of
a wife. While journeying, he met a beautiful girl, and stopped,
and said to her, “Miss So-and-so, have you any water? If so,
please give me a drink, for | am very thirsty.”

The girl replied, “Yes, sir,” and, taking a calabash well
ornamented with rows of brass nails, she gave it to him full of
water.

He drank eagerly, and as he handed the calabash back, he
said, “The water is as nice to drink as the girl is beautiful.” The
Gazelle inquired of her and, finding she was not married, he
asked her, “Will you marry me?”

She answered, “! don’t know; | must ask my mother.”

So together they went to seek the mother’s consent. When
she heard all about the affair, she said, “If you want to marry
my daughter, you must first bring me the dried flesh of every
animal and bird in the forest.”

The Gazelle was at first disconcerted by such a difficult task
but said, “Alright, | will do it,” and went his way to think out a
plan by which he could win his wife. The Gazelle thought of first
one way and then another, and at last he sought for and found
a shell and filled it with various powerful medicines, and thus
having made a strong fetish, he started for the forest.

He had not walked very far before a Dove came to him and
said, “Behold, there are ten animals down there. | fired at them
but did not kill a single one; if therefore you have a hunting
fetish, teach me how to use it.”

| 373

“Yes, | have the kind of fetish you want,” replied the Gazelle,
“but before you can learn how to use it, you must be killed,
roasted, and dried, and then | will restore you to life and teach
you how to use the fetish.”

“Very well,” said the Dove, “I am ready to be roasted.” So the
Gazelle killed, roasted, and dried the silly Dove and took the
flesh to his store-room as the first part of the dried meat he had
to give to his future mother-in-law.

Soon after returning to the forest, an Antelope came running
up to him and said, “We hear you have a strong fetish to help
hunters to kill animals. Teach me how to use it, for | have had
no success in hunting for a long time.”

“Well, | have such a fetish,” answered the Gazelle, “but before
you can learn about it, | must kill, roast, and dry you. Then | will
bring you to life again and teach you the use of the fetish.”

“Do with me whatever you like,” said the Antelope, “so long
as | get a fetish with which to kill plenty of game.” The Gazelle
drew his knife and told the Antelope to lie down on the ground.
“What are you going to do with that knife?” cried the Antelope.

“How can you be roasted and dried unless you are first
killed?” quietly asked the Gazelle. So the Antelope stretched
himself out, and was soon killed, dried, and carried to the store.
“Well,” ruminated the Gazelle, “l have found a way to win my
wife, for these animals will believe any foolish thing so as to
possess power to kill others. | must now try a big beast.”

Again he went to the forest, but he had not gone very far
into it before he met a Buffalo running. “Where are you going?”
asked the Gazelle.

“lam off to look after my farm, for | have no luck in hunting,”
replied the Buffalo.

“Il have a strong hunting-fetish,” said the Gazelle, “but before
you can use it | must cut out your heart, and roast and dry you;
after that, | will call you back to life and teach you my fetish,
which will give you plenty of hunting skill.”

374 |

“All right,” said the Buffalo, “but | am a big person and your
knife will not enter my body.” With that he fell on the ground,
but directly the Gazelle had thrust his knife into the body, the
Buffalo cried out, “Please stop! Do stop!” but the Gazelle said,
“Just wait a moment only,” and he pushed in the knife, and the
Buffalo died. In a very short time the Buffalo’s flesh was roasted,
dried, and carried to the store.

In this way the Gazelle caught and roasted the Lion, the
Leopard, the Elephant and all the other animals and birds of
the forest. By and by, he carried all the dried meat to the
mother of the beautiful girl and said to her, “My respected
mother-in-law, do not be angry because | have been a long
time doing the task you set me. You know all about hunting,
and that it is very slow and laborious work. Sometimes one
shoots and does not kill; however, here is the meat for which
you sent me.”

The old woman answered, “I thank you, and now you can take
your wife and go your way.”

| 375

School of Theology at Claremont

iiiiiiiiilit’ Toreysrerey LIFE
™ AND FOLKLORE

Kev J.O.WEEKS

376 |

49. How the Fox Saved
the Frog's Life

[From Congo Life and Folklore by John Weeks, 1921. See
item #197 in the Bibliography.]

A Frog, having built a nice town, received a visit from several
well-dressed young men. The Frog welcomed them, and they
very civilly answered his greetings. The Frog asked them where
they were going, and they replied, “We are not going anywhere
in particular; we are just walking about, visiting the towns.”

The Frog called out his thirty wives to come and pay their
respects to the visitors, and they came out of their houses and
greeted the young men. The wives asked their husband how
he came to know them, and he replied, “| do not know them
but, seeing them well dressed, | saluted them.”

“Oh! You welcomed them because they are well dressed,”
they retorted, “yet ever since we married you, we have never
received any new clothes from you.”

“Never mind,” he said. “Il am well known as a great chief who
has built a whole town and married thirty wives.”

“Oh yes,” they answered, “you are well known, but we work
and farm, and we have no clothes, only rags; hence you don’t
respect us like those who are well dressed.”

The Frog could say nothing in reply to his wives.

Then he asked the young men where and how he could
buy some clothes, and they told him that if he carried some
peanuts to Mboma, he could buy plenty there, and the road
was not difficult to find, for if he followed the river he would
reach there in a few days. The Frog was glad to hear this, and
thereupon he killed six chickens and made a feast for his
friends, and he told each of his wives to bring him a large

| 377

basket of peanuts in the morning, for he said, “Although | am
a big chief of a large town, | feel ashamed because my wives
have had no new clothes since | married them, and they do not
dress properly.”

The next morning the peanuts were brought and tied into
a load, and for the journey some food was prepared, and the
Frog started, telling his wives that he would be back in twenty
days. On the third day of his journey, the Frog reached a large
baobab tree that had fallen across the road, and while he was
considering how he, a person with such short legs, could jump
over it, he heard a voice say, “If you are a strong man, please put
down your bundle and save me, for as | was on my way to visit
my wife’s family, this tree fell on me and has held me here for
twenty months. Have pity on me, and help me now from under
this tree.”

When the Frog heard this, he at once put down his load and
went under the tree, and swelled and swelled until he lifted it
and the Snake (for that was who was under the tree) was able
to crawl out; then the Frog let the tree down again and went to
pick up his load to continue his journey.

The Snake, however, immediately caught him by the leg and
told him to get ready to be swallowed. The Frog said, “What
have | done that you should swallow me? For although | hada
right to be paid for helping you, yet | did not ask for anything!
Let me go on my way to Mboma.”

While they were arguing about this, an Antelope arrived, and
he was asked to judge between them, but when he had heard
the whole matter, he was afraid to settle the affair properly, for
he said to himself, “If | let the Frog go, who is right but little,
then the Snake will kill me.” So the Antelope gave the verdict in
favour of the Snake.

The Snake quickly said, “Do you hear that? Get ready at once
and | will swallow you.”

But the Frog cried, “He would have given me the verdict, only
he is afraid of you.”

378 |

While they were discussing this point, a Fox arrived on the
scene, and he wanted to hear all about it. When the case was
laid before him, the Snake said, “Am | not in the right? For lam
very hungry and want to swallow the Frog.”

But the Fox said, “Did the Frog truly lift that tree?” and would
not give the verdict until he had seen the Frog lift the tree, so
he said to the Snake, “Release the Frog’s leg, and let him go and
raise the tree,” which the Frog did at once.

The Fox said, “Truly, the Frog is very strong to lift so large a
tree. Now, Snake, you go under it, and show us how you were
lying beneath the tree.”

So the Snake went, thinking he would surely win the case as
the judge was taking so much trouble over it, but the Snake
was no sooner under the tree than the Fox called out, “Frog, let
go the tree,” and down it came right on the Snake, holding him
so that he could not get away.

The Fox then said to the Snake, “You are entirely in the wrong,
for your friend did a kindness to you in helping you in your
trouble, but you want to repay him by a bad deed — you want
to swallow him.”

Thereupon they all went away, leaving the Snake under the
tree, as no one would help him again for fear of his ingratitude.
The Frog thanked the Fox for saving him and gave him his load
of peanuts, and they became great friends.

| 379

50. How the Squirrel
Repaid a Kindness

[From Congo Life and Folklore by John Weeks, 1921. See
item #197 in the Bibliography.]

There was once a man named Tunga who had a house, a wife,
and a nice little baby. Tunga used to catch partridges, guinea-
fowls, palm-rats, and squirrels in his traps, and sometimes he
would trap three and four of these at a time.

One day he caught as many as fifteen partridges, and when
he took them home, his wife said, “We will save some of these
for another day so that our child may not be hungry should you
not catch any.”

But Tunga said, “No, we will eat them all now, for | am sure to
catch plenty of meat every day.”

Some time after, Tunga went to look at his traps and found
only one squirrel in them, and this squirrel had some bells
round its neck. And just as Tunga was going to kill him, the
squirrel said, “Oh, please don’t kill me, and | will help you
another day.”

Tunga laughed and said, “How can a little thing like you help
me?”

But the squirrel pleaded for his life and promised to help
the man whenever he was in trouble, so at last Tunga let the
squirrel go. He then plucked some leaves and went home to his
wife and told her what he had done. She was very angry and
quarreled so much about there being no food for the baby to
eat that she picked up the child and went off to her own family,
who lived in a distant town.

The man waited some days until he thought his wife’s anger
had passed away, and then he took a large calabash of palm-

380 |

wine and started for his wife’s town. On arriving at the
crossroads, Tunga met an imp that had neither arms, legs, nor
body, but was all head, like a ball.

The imp said, “Let me carry your calabash for you. You are a
great man and should not carry it yourself.”

“How can you carry it, when you are all head and no body?”
asked Tunga.

“Oh, you will see, ” said the imp as he took the calabash,
balanced it on his head, and went bounding off along the road
in front of Tunga.

After traveling a long way, Tunga became very tired, so they
sat down under a tree to rest, and while they were sitting there,
a leopard came up and, noticing the palm-wine, he asked for a
drink, and the man was too much afraid to refuse. When Tunga
was going to pour out some of the palm-wine into a glass, the
leopard said, “I drink out of my own mug, not yours, ” and he
brought out of his bag the skull of a man and said, “Here is a
mug. | have already eaten nine men, and you will be the tenth.”

Poor Tunga was so filled with fear that he did not know what
to do but, by and by, a squirrel arrived and, after exchanging
greetings, he asked for some of the palm-wine, and as Tunga
was going to pour it out, the squirrel said, “What! Have you no
respect for me? | carry my own mug,” and putting his hand into
his bag, he brought out the skull of a leopard, and said, “There,
| have eaten nine leopards, and this one here will be the tenth,”
and as he repeated the words again and again very fiercely, the
leopard began to tremble and go backwards until he was in the
road, and then he turned tail and fled, with the squirrel after
him.

Tunga waited, and at last he and the imp started again on
their journey. He was now glad that he had been kind to the
squirrel and had saved his life.

On reaching the town, Tunga and the imp were welcomed
by the people, a good house was given to them, and they
were well feasted. After resting there some days, Tunga and his

| 381

wife started on their return journey home, but before leaving
the town, Mrs. Tunga’s family gave them a goat as a parting
present.

When they reached the crossroads, Tunga said to the imp, “I
will kill the goat here and give you your half.”

“Alright,” said the imp, “but you must also give me half of the
woman.”

“No,” replied Tunga. “The woman is my wife, but you shall
have half the goat.”

The imp became very angry and called to his friends, and
a great crowd of imps came to fight Tunga. While they were
wrangling, the squirrel arrived and asked what was the cause
of the row. They told him, and he said, “If we divide the goat and
the woman, how are you going to cook them? You have neither
firewood nor water. Some of you fetch water, and others go for
firewood.”

The squirrel opened his box and gave to some of the imps
a calabash in which to fetch water, but while the water was
running into the calabash, it sang such a magic tune that the
imps began to dance, and they could not stop dancing.

Then the squirrel opened his box again and let loose a swarm
of bees that stung the other imps so badly that they all
bounded away and never returned again to trouble Tunga.

Then the squirrel said to Tunga, “You now see that if you had
not been merciful to me, | should not have been able to save
you from the leopard and from the imps. Your kindness to me
has saved your own life and your wife’s.”

Tunga thanked him for his help and went his way home.

382 |

Notes to the Stories

#1. How We Got the Name “Anansi Tales.” Anansi, or Ananse,
is the Akan name for “Spider,” and he is one of the most famous
African tricksters. Spider has other names in other West African
languages; in Hausa stories, for example, Spider is called Gizo.
| have changed the name “tiger” to “leopard” in this story; the
word “tiger” in African folktales refers to leopards, cheetahs,
servals, and other wild cats (there are no actual tigers in Africa).
Leopard is often the dupe of the trickster; see story #6, The
Elephant that Wanted to Dance and story #32, The Jackal, the
Dove, and the Panther, in which it is the trickster rabbit who
fools the leopard.

#2. Wisdom and the Human Race. Fanti-land refers to the
home of the Fante, an Akan people who live in Ghana. The
name of Anansi’s son, Kweku Tsin, is from the Akan day-name
system; Kweku is a name given to a son born on a Wednesday.
For more stories from Ghana, see these books in the
Bibliography: 12, 13, 18, 20, 32, 37, 55, 90, 136, 165, 199.

#3. Thunder and Anansi. Greed is one of the most distinctive
traits of trickster characters like Anansi, as you can see both in
this story and in the previous story. For more Spider stories, see
these books in the Bibliography: 12, 14, 15, 18, 20, 52, 55, 63, 64,
90, 98, 114, 136, 159, 178.

#4. The Flame Tree. This story is set in the Kyagwe region of
central Uganda. The Lake referred to here is Lake Nalubaale
(Lake Victoria), which is one of the Great Lakes in the East
African Rift Valley. The Buvuma Islands are an island chain in
the northern part of the lake. You can see pictures of actual
flame trees at Wikipedia: Soathodea. For more stories from
Uganda, see these books in the Bibliography: 23, 113, 149, 176.

| 383

#5. The Buffalo Maiden. The Mabira Forest is a rainforest in
central Uganda. This story includes a song; songs-in-the-stories
are a regular feature of African folktales. Most folktale
collections do not include the music, but you will find a
transcription of the music in #19, How the Animals Dug Their
Well.

#6. The Elephant that Wanted to Dance. As in the previous
story, the setting is the Mabira rainforest of Uganda. The sem-
sem sauce referred to in the story is made with peanuts and
sesame. The animals called “rock conies” are also known as
rock hyraxes. Although hyraxes look like rodents (hence the
name “rock conies”), they are actually in the same animal
family, Paenungulata, as elephants and manatees.

#7. The Language of the Beasts. This is an Amazigh (Berber)
story from northern Africa. The Jerboa referred to here is a
tiny rodent with a very long tail, as in the English “gerbil.” The
story of the man who learned the language of the animals
is a famous folktale that appears in many variations (Aarne-
Thompson-Uther type 670), often focused on punishing the
wife, as here. This variation is distinctive for the elaborate
explanation of just how the man gained his unusual power. For
more examples of ATU 670, see Ashliman’s collection of stories
which you can read at the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine:
The Language of Animals.

#8. Half-a-Rooster. This is another Amazigh (Berber) story
from North Africa. For more stories from northern Africa, see
these books in the Bibliography: 10, 24, 50, 77, 88, 115, 142, 172.
For another pairing of wise-and-foolish like the two wives in
this story, see the story of the two sisters, #41, The Snake with
Five Heads.

#9. The Hare and the Lion. Sungura, or Soongoora in
Bateman’s spelling, is the Swahili name for the hare, and you
will find other Swahili names for the animals in this story. For

384 |

more Swahili stories, see these books in the Bibliography: 4, 25,
130, 180. For a different trickster using the “hey, house!” trick, see
#33, The Lion, the Hyena, and the Fox.

#10. Goso the Teacher. This story is an example of a chain
tale, which is an extremely popular folktale genre in Africa. This
specific type of chain tale is called a “cumulative tale,” and you
can find out more at Wikipedia: Cumulative Tale. Cumulative

tales are found in folk traditions around the world, but they are
most widespread in Africa and in India. For more cumulative
chain tales, see story #44, A Chain of Circumstances, and story
#45, The Spider Passes on a Debt.

#11. Mkaah Jeechonee, the Boy Hunter. The name of the
sultan in this story, Maajnoon, is an Arabic name meaning
“madman,” which certainly fits his role as a foolish ruler here.
This story is an example of a Swallowing Monster type of story,
a widespread tale type in Africa. For another Swallowing
Monster, see story #18, The Three Little Eggs. For another royal
child who is not able to recognize the animals in the world
around them because they have led a sheltered life, see story
#27, A Different Story about Nzambi’s Daughter.

#12. How Mafani Earned His Bride. This story from the Wute
people of Cameroon provides another example of a chain tale
(see story #10); this time it is a “trading up” type of story where,
from a small start, the hero gains in wealth, trade by trade
by trade. The ashes from the ceiba tree (silk-cotton tree) were
used as a substitute for salt, which is why the wind is glad to
receive the salt instead of the ashes.

#13. How the Turtle Outwitted the Pig. This is a story of the
Kwe (Wakweli) people of Cameroon. The turtle, or tortoise, is
another one of the great African trickster characters. For more
Tortoise stories, see these books in the Bibliography: 58, 151, 156,
187, 198, 200. The next story, #14, The Punishment of the Turtle,
is also about the trickster turtle.

| 385

#14. The Punishment of the Turtle. This is a Basuto legend
from southern Africa. The boastful and greedy character of
the trickster is on full display here, and the story features a
song sung by the trickster turtle. In this case, the song has
incriminating lyrics in which the trickster boasts about his
crimes (“By cunning | have beaten all”), but he sings his song
once too often.

#15. Mantis and Will-o-the-Wisp. The Mantis in this story is
the trickster god of the San people. Mantis is brave but also
boastful, and his boasting can get him into trouble. The
opponent that Mantis faces in this story is called Will-o-the-
Wisp (a name borrowed from English folklore), and he is also
known as “Eyes-on-his-Feet.” Writing in 1901, J. T. Hahn
explained how the creature supposedly “roams around the veld
and kindles a big fire at night to attract people who have lost
their way; then he fries and eats them” (cited by Sigrid Schmidt
in South African [Xam Bushman Traditions, p. 53).

#16. Mantis and Aardwolf. The Afrikaans name “aardwolf”
means earth-wolf, a relative of the hyena; its scientific name is
Proteles cristata. In this story you will meet Mantis’s son-in-law
Kwammanga again (his name means “rainbow”), and also his
grandson, Ichneumon, an African mongoose. For more stories
from the San people, see these books in the Bibliography: 35,
125, 173.

#17. The Rooster’s Kraal. Otters are found throughout sub-
Saharan Africa; you can read more about them at Wikipedia:
African Clawless Otters. For another story about transformation

and the lifting of a curse, see story #41, The Snake with Five
Heads. For another story with a rooster as one of the main
characters, see story #8, Half-a-Rooster.

#18. The Three Little Eggs. In a footnote, the authors explain
that another word for the monster here called “Inzimu” is
“Imbula.” A “kaross” is an animal skin garment worn by the

386 |

Khoekhoe and other peoples of southern Africa, and the word
“amasi” refers to fermented milk that is something like yogurt.

#19. How the Animals Dug Their Well. This is one of the Ndau
stories with songs that C. Kamba Simango contributed to the
book; the photo shows Simango playing a kalimba. You can
find more examples of music in these books in the
Bibliography: 41, 166, 176, 190, 192. For another story about the
rabbit stealing water, see story #28, The Rabbit and the
Antelope.

#20. Death of the Hare. This is another one of the Ndau stories
contributed by C. Kamba Simango. For more stories about the
trickster rabbit (or hare), see these books in the Bibliography: 3,
4, 78, 103, 131, 146, 185. For another story of foolish imitation and
its dangerous consequences, see the final episode of story #8,
Half-a-Rooster.

#21. Cunning Rabbit and His Well. The “cunnie rabbit” here is
not a rabbit at all; instead, this is the tiny antelope, Neotragus
pygmaeus, who is a trickster figure in western Africa; see
Wikipedia: Royal Antelope. For help with the English used here,

see the vocabulary listing in the book. You can find out more

at Wikipedia: West African Pidgin English. The author supplies

a footnote for the phrase “do’ clean” as follows: “When into
the darkness of a mud hut the first rays of dawn penetrate
sufficiently to afford from within a clear-cut outline of the door-
way, the time is designated by do’ clean.”

#22. A Ghost Story. See the previous note for information about
the pidgin English used in this story. For another story about an
animal who is able to become a human, as the dog does here,
see story #42, The Leopard of the Fine Skin. For more stories
from Sierra Leone, see these books in the Bibliography: 63, 82,
114.

| 387

#23. How a Hunter Obtained Money from His Friends.
Calabar, referred to in the story, is a cultural center in southern
Nigeria. The “rods” referred to in the story are metal rods that
were used as a form of currency in western Africa. This is
another example of a chain tale; for a similar type of chain tale,
see story #44, A Chain of Circumstances.

#24. Of the Fat Woman who Melted Away. In this story, the
new wife cannot go out in the sun because the sun’s heat will
melt her. For another story about a bride unable to go out in
the sunlight, see story #40, Tanga, the Child of Night. For more
stories from Nigeria, see these books in the Bibliography: 8, 30,
51, 57, 58, 59, 67, 86, 151, 152, 153, 156, 177, 185, 191, 193, 194.

#25. The Leopard, the Squirrel, and the Tortoise. The motif
of “eating the mothers” is one that recurs in different African
folktales. In this story, the tortoise does not succeed in saving
his mother, but in other stories, the trickster uses some
cunning trick to save his mother, as in this Bulu folktale from
Cameroon: Tortoise, Leopard, and Their Mothers.

#26. How The Spider Won and Lost Nzambi’s Daughter. |n
Congo mythology, there is a sky-god called Nzambi Mpungu,
and there is also a goddess, Nzambi, who rules the earthly
realm. This story and the next story are about the goddess
Nzambi, while Nzambi Mpungu also appears in this story as
well. The ending of this story is very similar to a dilemma tale,
but instead of leaving the competing claims open for the
audience to debate, the storyteller lets the goddess Nzambi
provide her own surprising resolution to their dispute. For
another example of a trial by fire, such as the rat undergoes
here, see the final episode in story #30, How Isuro the Rabbit
Tricked Gudu.

#27. A Different Story about Nzambi’s Daughter. See the
previous story for a note about Nzambi, goddess on the earth.
Here is a note provided by the author about the paint-house,

388 |

where young women were taken after their first menstrual
period: “Here she is painted red, and carefully fed and treated
until they consider her ready for marriage, when she is washed
and led to her husband. But if she has not a husband waiting
for her, she is covered over with a red cloth and taken round by
women to the different downs until someone is found anxious
to have her.”

#28. The Rabbit and the Antelope. The rabbit's use of
incriminating names (Not-Done-Yet, Half-Done-Now, All-Done)
is similar to the use of incriminating song lyrics in which the
trickster boasts of his tricks; see, for example, the boasting
turtle in story #14, The Punishment of the Turtle. The casca-
test in this story refers to the use of an emetic, Erythrophleum
guinense, to prove guilt or innocence. There are many different
forms of ordeal-by-poison; according to the practice described
in this story, the one who gets sick first is the guilty party. The
sticky figure that traps the rabbit here is the African origin
of the famous “tar-baby” motif in African American folktales:
Wikipedia: Tar Baby. For another story about the rabbit stealing

water, see story #19, How the Animals Dug Their Well.

#29. Motikatika. There are many forms of divination used in
Africa, including the use of bones as in this story. For more
information, see Wikipedia: African Divination.

#30. How Isuro the Rabbit Tricked Gudu. This story involves
another trial by ordeal (this time with fire); for another trial
by ordeal also involving the rabbit, see story #28, The Rabbit
and the Antelope. For another story about rival traveling
companions, see #46, The Hyena and the Spider Visit the King.

#31. The Sacred Milk of Koumongoe. For another story about
an underwater world, see #40, Tanga, the Child of Night. In
that story, it is the mother, not the child, who dwells under the
water.

| 389

#32. The Jackal, the Dove, and the Panther. The jackal is
another one of the important African animal tricksters, and
he is also a major trickster in the folktales of India. This story
shows how a trickster tale can grow as the focus shifts from
one episode to another and to another: jackal and dove, jackal
and heron, jackal and panther, and then finally the panther, the
baboon, and the bees, but with the jackal still chiming in from
a distance. For another trickster story that plays out in a series
of episodes, see #34, How the Fox Followed the Elephant.

#33. The Lion, the Hyena, and the Fox. This story features yet
another one of the important African animal tricksters: the fox,
who is also a major trickster in the European folk tradition. For
another story where the fox wisely intervenes, see #49, How
the Fox Saved the Frog’s Life. For a different trickster using the
“hey, house!’ trick, see #9, The Hare and the Lion.

#34. How the Fox Followed the Elephant. As in the previous
story from Ethiopia, the fox is once again the trickster, and the
story plays out in a series of episodes: fox and elephant, fox and
merchants, fox and jackal. For another trickster story that plays
out in a series of episodes, see #32, The Jackal, the Dove, and
the Panther.

#35. The Debbi. The story makes reference to the Gash-Barka
region in what is now Eritrea, to the north of Ethiopia and east
of Sudan. For more stories from Ethiopia and the countries
around it, see these books in the Bibliography: 40, 54, 66, 97, 118,
119, 120, 128. For more about fetishes, see story #42, The Leopard
of the Fine Skin, and #48, How the Gazelle Won His Wife.

#36. The Elephant and the Rabbit. |n this story, the rabbit
tricks the foolish littke hyena into singing a song with
incriminating lyrics (“stopping up and letting out”). For another
example of incriminating lyrics, see story #14, The Punishment
of the Turtle, in which the trickster turtle sings an incriminating
song about himself.

390 |

#37. The Frog and the Chameleon. |n this animal courtship
story, the frog and the chameleon begin as friends, but they
end as rivals. Compare the rivalry between the rabbit and the
baboon in story #30, How Isuro the Rabbit Tricked Gudu. For
another story about an animal courtship, see #48, How the
Gazelle Won His Wife.

#38. The Man and the Sheep. This story begins with realistic
details but quickly turns into a supernatural story. For another
story that involves consulting with medicine-men, see story
#42, The Leopard of the Fine Skin (in that story it is the animal
who does the consulting).

#39. The Horns of Plenty. This story of the magical horns is
a popular folktale type in southern Africa. For another animal
helper, see the horse in story #42, The Leopard of the Fine Skin.

#40. Tanga, the Child of Night. For another story of a bride
who cannot come out in the daytime, see story #24, Of the
Fat Woman who Melted Away, and for another story about
an underwater world, see story #31, The Sacred Milk of
Koumongoe. In that story, it is the child, not the mother, who
dwells under the water.

#41. The Snake with Five Heads. The amasi referred to in the
story is a kind of thickened milk, something like yogurt. For
a modern retelling of this story, see John Steptoe’s Mufaro’s
Beautiful Daughters, which is book #181 in the Bibliography,
and for another story about the lifting of a curse, see story #17,
The Rooster’s Kraal.

#42. The Leopard of the Fine Skin. Nassau's book contains
stories from Mpongwe, Benga, and Fang storytellers. This story
comes from a Mpongwe storyteller at Libreville, in what is now
Gabon. For another story that involves consulting with
medicine-men (as the leopard does here), see story #38, The

| 391

Man and the Sheep. For another animal helper, see the ox in
story #39, The Horns of Plenty.

#43. Tortoise in a Race. This story comes from a Benga
storyteller. Tales about a slow animal who defeats a fast animal
in a race by using substitutes like this is one of the most
popular African folktale types: different slow animals (tortoise,
snail, etc.) race different fast animals (antelope, rabbit, etc.),
and the slow animal wins by using substitutes. The tortoise’s
trickery here stands in sharp contrast to the tortoise in the
famous Aesop's fable about the race between the tortoise and
the hare, where “slow and steady wins the race.”

#44. A Chain of Circumstances. This cumulative chain tale
(see note #10 above) comes from the Fang people who live in
Equatorial Guinea and also in northern Gabon and southern
Cameroon.

#45. The Spider Passes on a Debt. This Hausa story is another
example of a cumulative chain tale; see the note to story #10
above for more information. For more Hausa stories, see these
books in the Bibliography: 165, 177, 185, 191.

#46. The Hyena and the Spider Visit the King. This Hausa
story focuses on the greediness of the hyena, who is not very
cunning, in contrast to the spider’s combination of both
cunning and greed as seen in other spider stories. For another
story about rival traveling companions, see #30, How /Isuro the
Rabbit Tricked Gudu.

#47. The Woman who Bore a Clay Pot. Tremearne has
preserved here in the English version some of the ideophones
used by the storyteller, such as “kop kop kop” for chopping the
wood and “pau” for when a blow is struck. You can read more
about ideophones, which are a distinctive feature of many
African languages, at Wikipedia: Ideophones. For another story

featuring a heroic supernatural child, see story #29, Motikatika.

392 |

#48. How the Gazelle Won His Wife. You can learn more about
African fetishes at Wikipedia: Fetishism. For an example of

medicine that really does bring the dead back to life, see story
#43, Tortoise in a Race. For another story about animal
courtship, see #37, The Frog and the Chameleon.

#49. How the Fox Saved the Frog’s Life. The story of tricking
a foolish animal back into the trap is a famous folktale found
in many traditions (Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 155). For more
examples, see Ashliman’s collection of stories which you can
read at the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine: Ingratitude Is
the World’s Reward. The story starts out being about the frog

and his many wives, but we don’t find out what happens to
the wives in the end of the story. Since the fox ended up with
the peanuts, I’m afraid the frog’s wives never did get any new
clothes! For another story where the fox wisely intervenes, see
#33, The Lion, the Hyena, and the Fox.

#50. How the Squirrel Repaid a Kindness. This delightful story
comes from the Congo; for more stories from the Congo, see
these books in the Bibliography: 33, 43, 68, 107, 167, 197.

| 393

Appendix: Timeline

This timeline includes the main book for each bibliography
item along with other African books mentioned in that item,
but | have not included the non-African books mentioned in
the bibliography.

#42. Burton, Richard Francis. Wanderings in West Africa. [1863]

#34. Bleek, Wilhelm. Reynard the Fox in South Africa, or
Hottentot Fables and Tales. [1864]

#42. Burton, Richard Francis. Wit and Wisdom from West
Africa. [1865]

#45. Callaway, Henry. Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of
the Zulus. [1868]

#180. Steere, Edward. Swahili Tales as Told by Natives of
Zanzibar. [1870]

#45. Callaway, Henry. The Religious System of the Amazulu.
[1884]

#68. Dennett, Richard. Seven Years among the Fjort. [1887]
#130. Madan, Arthur. Kiungani, or: Story and History from
Central Africa. [1887]

#49, Chatelain, Heli. Folk-Tales of Angola. [1894]
#68. Dennett, Richard. Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort. [1898]

#23. Baskerville, Rosetta. The Flame Tree and Other Folk-Lore
Stories from Uganda. [1900]

| 395

#24. Basset, René. Moorish Literature. [1901]
#25. Bateman, George. Zanzibar Tales Told by Natives of the
East Coast of Africa. [1901]

#63. Cronise, Florence and Henry Ward. Cunnie Rabbit, Mr.
Spider, and the Other Beef: West African Folk Tales. [1903]

#128. Littmann, Enno. The Legend of the Queen of Sheba in the
Tradition of Axum. [1904]
#196. Vaughan, Arthur Owen. Old Hendrik’s Tales. [1904]

#108. Hollis, Alfred Claud. The Masai: Their Language and
Folklore. [1905]

#165. Rattray, R. Sutherland. Folklore Stories and Songs in
Chinyanja. [1907]

#36. Bourhill, Mrs. E. J. and Mrs. J. B. Drake. Fairy Tales from
South Africa. [1908]

#111. Jacottet, Edouard. The Treasury of Ba-suto Lore. [1908]
#130. Madan, Arthur. Lala-Lamba Handbook. [1908]

#46. Camphor, Alexander Priestley. Missionary Story Sketches:
Folk-Lore from Africa. [1909]

#84. Frobenius, Leo. The Childhood of Man. [1909]

#108. Hollis, Alfred Claud. The Nandi: Their Language and
Folklore. [1909]

#67. Dayrell, Elohinstone. Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria.
[1910]

#68. Dennett, Richard. Nigerian Studies: The Religious and
Political System of the Yoruba. [1910]

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. Fables and Fairy Tales for Little
Folk, or: Uncle Remus in Hausaland. [1910]

#35. Bleek, Wilhelm. Soecimens of Bushman Folklore. [1911]

396 |

#147. Nassau, Robert. Where Animals Talk: West African
Folklore Tales. [1912]

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. The Tailed Head-hunters of
Nigeria. [1912]

#67. Dayrell, Elphinstone. /kom Folk Stories from Southern
Nigeria. [1913]

#84. Frobenius, Leo. The Voice of Africa. [1913]

#165. Rattray, R. Sutherland. Hausa Folklore. [1913]

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. Hausa Superstitions and
Customs: An Introduction to the Folk-Lore and the Folk. [1913]
#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. Some Austral-African Notes and
Anecdotes. [1913]

#197. Weeks, John. Among Congo Cannibals. [1913]

#79. Ellis, George Washington. Negro Culture In West Africa.
[1914]

#196. Metelerkamp, Sanni. Outa Karel’s Stories: South African
Folklore Tales. [1914]

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. Hausa Folk-tales: The Hausa Text.
11914]

#191. Tremearne, Arthur J. N.. The Ban of the Bori: Demons and
Demon-dancing in West and North Africa. [1914]

#128. Littmann, Enno. Tales, Customs, Names and Dirges of the
Tigre Tribes. [1915]

#165. Rattray, R. Sutherland. Ashanti Proverbs. [1916]

#20. Barker, William and Cecilia Sinclair. West African Folk-
Tales. [1917]

#180. Steere, Edward. Swahili Exercises. [1918]

#27. Bender, Carl. African Jungle Tales. [1919]

#138. McPherson, Ethel. Native Fairy Tales of South Africa. [1919]
#180. Steere, Edward. A Handbook of the Swahili Language as
Spoken at Zanzibar. [1919]

| 397

#4]. Burlin, Natalie Curtis, with C. Kamba Simango and
Madikane Cele. Songs and Tales from the Dark Continent.
11920]

#179. Smith, Edwin and Andrew Dale. The /la-speaking Peoples
of Northern Rhodesia. [1920]

#167. Ruskin, Edward Algernon. Mongo Proverbs and Fables.
[1921]
#197. Weeks, John. Congo Life and Folklore. [1921]

#23. Baskerville, Rosetta. The King of the Snakes and Other
Folk-Lore Stories from Uganda. [1922]

#40. Budge, E. A. Wallis. The Queen of Sheba and Her Only Son
Menyelek. [1922]

#43. Burton, William F. P.. Missionary Pioneering in Congo
Forests. [1922]

#106. Rickert, Edith. The Bojabi Tree. [1923]

#27. Bender, Carl. Proverbs of West Africa. [1924]
#35. Bleek, Wilhelm, with Lucy Lloyd and Dorothea Bleek. The
Mantis and His Friends: Bushman Folklore. [1924]

#198. Werner, Alice. The Mythology of All Races: African. [1925]
#196. Waters, Mary Waterton. Cameos From the Kraal. [1926]
#73. Doke, Clement. Lamba Folk-Lore. [1927]

#127. Lindblom, Gerhard. Kamba Tales of Animals. [1928]

#151. Ogumefu, Margaret Irene. Yoruba Legends. [1929]

#165. Rattray, R. Sutherland. Akan-Ashanti Folk-Tales. [1930]

#73. Doke, Clement. The Lambas of Northern Rhodesia: A
Study of Their Customs and Beliefs. [1931]

#198. Werner, Alice. Myths and Legends of the Bantu. [1932]

398 |

#40. Budge, E. A. Wallis. The Alexander Book in Ethiopia. [1933]

#99. Hambly, Wilfrid. The Ovimbundu of Angola. [1934]
#113. Kaggwa, Apollo. Customs of the Baganda. [1934]

#149. Nyabongo, Akiki. Africa Answers Back. [1936]
#40. Wheeler, Post. The Golden Legend of Ethiopia. [1936]

#84. Frobenius, Leo. African Genesis: Folk Tales and Myths of
Africa. [1937]

#192. Tucker, Archie. Disappointed Lion and Other Stories from
the Bari of Central Africa. [1937]

#105. Herskovits, Melville and Frances Herskovits. Dahomey, An
Ancient West African Kingdom. [1938]

#78. Elliot, Geraldine. The Long Grass Whispers. [1939]
#149. Nyabongo, Akiki. Winds and Lights. [1939]

#196. Marais, Josef. Koos, the Hottentot: Tales of the Veld. [1945]

#113. Kalibala, Ernest Balintuma and Mary Gould. Wakaima and
the Clay Man, and Other African Folktales. [1946]

#53. Courlander, Harold and George Herzog. The Cow-tail
Switch, and Other West African Stories. [1947]

#78. Elliot, Geraldine. Where the Leopard Passes: A Book of
African Folk Tales. [1949]
#99. Hambly, Wilfrid. Talking Animals. [1949]

#54. Courlander, Harold and Wolf Leslau. The Fire on the
Mountain, and Other Ethiopian Stories. [1950]

#164. Radin, Paul. African Folktales and Sculptures. [1952]

#192. Tucker, Archie N.. The Non-Bantu Languages of
Northeastern Africa. [1956]

| 399

#55. Courlander, Harold and Albert Kofi Prempeh. The Hat-
Shaking Dance, and Other Tales from the Gold Coast. [1957]

#8. Achebe, Chinua and John Iroaganachi. Things Fall Apart.
11958]

#88. Gilstrap, Robert and Irene Estabrook. The Sultan’s Fool,
and Other North African Tales. [1958]

#105. Herskovits, Melville and Frances Herskovits. Dahomean
Narrative: A Cross-Cultural Analysis. [1958]

#66. Davis, Russell and Brent Ashabranner. The Lion’s Whiskers:
Tales of High Africa. [1959]

#1. Aardema, Verna. Tales from the Story Hat. [1960]

#37. Aardema, Verna. The Na of Wa. [1960]

#89. Aardema, Verna. Otwe. [1960]

#89. Aardema, Verna. The Sky-God Stories. [1960]

#62. Creel, J. Luke and Bai Gai Kiahon. Folk Tales of Liberia.
[1960]

#43. Burton, William. The Magic Drum: Tales from Central
Africa. [1961]

#110. Jablow, Alta. Yes and No: The Intimate Folklore of Africa.
11961]

#168. Savory, Phyllis. Zu/u Fireside Tales. [1961]

#194. Walker, Barbara and Warren Walker. Nigerian Folk Tales.
[1961]

#16. Arnott, Kathleen. African Myths and Legends. [1962]

#56. Courlander, Harold. The King’s Drum, and Other African
Stories. [1962]

#80. Ennis, Merlin. Umbundu: Folk Tales from Angola. [1962]
#123. Leslau, Charlotte. African Proverbs. [1962]

#168. Savory, Phyllis. Congo Fireside Tales. [1962]

#48. Carpenter, Frances. African Wonder Tales. [1963]
#66. Davis, Russell. Land in the Sun: The Story of West Africa.

400 |

11963]

#85. Fuchs, Peter. African Decameron: Folk Tales from Central
Africa. [1963]

#123. Leslau, Charlotte and Wolf Leslau. African Folk Tales.
11963]

#95. Guillot, René. African Folk Tales. [1964]

#50. Chimenti, Elisa. Tales and Legends of Morocco. [1965]
#103. Heady, Eleanor. Jambo, Sungura! Tales from East Africa.
[1965]

#1. Aardema, Verna. More Tales from the Story Hat. [1966]

#12. Appiah, Peggy. Ananse the Spider: Tales from an Ashanti
Village. [1966]

#173. Seed, Jenny. Tombi's Song. [1966]

#185. Sturton, Hugh. Zomo the Rabbit. [1966]

#13. Appiah, Peggy. Tales of an Ashanti Father. [1967]

#74. Doob, Leonard. A Crocodile Has Me by the Leg: African
Poems. [1967]

#82. Finnegan, Ruth. Limba Stories and Story-Telling. [1967]
#102. Haskett, Edythe. Grains of Pepper: Folktales from Liberia.
[1967]

#117. Knappert, Jan. Traditional Swahili Poetry. [1967]

#200. Korty, Carol. Plays from African Folktales. [1967]

#30. Bergsma, Harold and Ruth Bergsma. Tales Tiv Tell. [1968]
#57. Courlander, Harold and Ezekiel Eshugbayi. Olode the
Hunter, and Other Tales from Nigeria. [1968]

#104. Heady, Eleanor. When the Stones Were Soft: East African
Fireside Tales. [1968]

#67. Lent, Blair. Why the Sun and the Moon Live in the Sky.
(1968]

#177. Skinner, Neil. Hausa Readings. [1968]

#190. Tracey, Hugh. The Lion on the Path and Other African
Stories. [1968]

| 401

#194. Walker, Barbara. The Dancing Palm Tree, and Other
Nigerian Folktales. [1968]

#3. Aardema, Verna. Third Ear from Equatorial Africa. [1969]
#16. Arnott, Kathleen. Tales of Temba: Traditional African
Stories. [1969]

#22. Bascom, William. /fa Divination: Communication between
Gods and Men in West Africa. [1969]

#22. Bascom, William. The Yoruba of Southwestern Nigeria.
11969]

#29. Berger, Terry. Black Fairy Tales. [1969]

#51. Clark-Bekederemo, J. P.. Their America: The Nigerian Poet
and Playwright’s Criticism of American Society. [1969]

#58. Courlander, Harold and Ezekiel Eshugbayi. ljapa the
Tortoise, and Other Nigerian Tales. [1969]

#96. Guirma, Frédéric. Princess of the Full Moon. [1969]

#177. Skinner, Neil. Hausa Tales and Traditions: An English
Translation of Tatsuniyoyi Na Hausa by Frank Edgar. [1969]
#193. Umeasiegbu, Rems. The Way We Lived: Ibo Customs and
Stories. [1969]

#74. Dorliae, Peter. Animals Mourn for Da Leopard, and Other
West African Tales. [1970]

#98. Haley, Gail. A Story, A Story: An African Tale. [1970]

#107. Holladay, Virginia. Bantu Tales. [1970]

#97. Price, Christine. Made in Ancient Egypt. [1970]

#190. Tracey, Hugh. Chopi Musicians: Their Music, Poetry, and
Instruments. [1970]

#33. Biebuyck, Daniel and Kahombo Mateene. The Mwindo
Epic from the Banyanga [Congo Republic]. [1971]

#38. Bryan, Ashley. The Ox of the Wonderful Horns. [1971]

#104. Feelings, Muriel. Moja Means One: A Swahili Counting
Book. [1971]

#86. Fuja, Abayomi. Fourteen Hundred Cowries, and Other
African Tales. [1971]

402 |

#90. Goody, Jack. Technology, Tradition, and the State in Africa.
f1971]

#97. Habte-Mariam, Mesfin. The Rich Man and the Singer:
Folktales from Ethiopia. [1971]

#110. Jablow, Alta. Gassire’s Lute: A West African Epic. [1971]
#168. Savory, Phyllis. Lion Outwitted by Hare and Other African
Tales. [1971]

#11. Amadu. Amadu’s Bundle: Fulani Tales of Love and Djinns.
11972]

#15. Arkhurst, Joyce. More Adventures of Spider: West African
Folk Tales. [19772]

#14. Arkhurst, Joyce. The Adventures of Spider: West African
Folk Tales. [1972]

#75. Dorson, Richard. African Folklore. [1972]

#90. Goody, Jack. The Myth of the Bagre. [1972]

#1. Aardema, Verna. Behind the Back of the Mountain: Black
Folktales from Southern Africa. [1973]

#59. Courlander, Harold. Tales of Yoruba Gods and Heroes.
11973]

#112. Jordan, A. C. Tales from Southern Africa. [1973]

#161. Pinney, Peter.. Legends of Liberia. [1973]

#97. Price, Christine. Talking Drums of Africa. [1973]

#104. Feelings, Muriel. Jambo Means Hello: A Swahili Alphabet
Book. [1974]

#163. Postma, Minnie. Tales from the Basotho. [1974]

#166. Robinson, Adjai. Singing Tales of Africa. [1974]

#168. Savory, Phyllis. Bantu Folk Tales from Southern Africa.
11974]

#176. Serwadda, W. Moses. Songs and Stories from Uganda.
11974]

#199. Wilson, Beth. The Great Minu. [1974]

#2. Aardema, Verna. Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People’s Ears: A
West African Tale. [1975]

| 403

#21. Bascom, William. African Dilemma Tales. [1975]

#60. Courlander, Harold. A Treasury of African Folklore. [1975]
#200. Gilfond, Henry. The Reader’s Theatre of Folklore Plays:
African, Asian, and Latin-American Stories. [1975]

#154. Opoku, Kofi Asare. Soeak to the Winds: Proverbs from
Africa. [1975]

#97. Price, Christine. Made in West Africa. [1975]

#169. Scheub, Harold. The Xhosa Ntsomi. [1975]

#173. Seed, Jenny. The Bushman’s Dream: African Tales of the
Creation. [1975]

#37. Bryan, Ashley. The Adventures of Aku. [1976]

#114. Kilson, Marion. Royal Antelope and Spider: West African
Mende Tales. [1976]

#145. Musgrove, Margaret. Ashanti to Zulu: African Traditions.
11976]

#184. Stuart, Forbes. The Magic Horns: Folk Tales from Africa.
11976]

#110. Jablow, Alta. The Myth of Africa. [1977]

#4. Aardema, Verna. Ji-Nongo-Nongo Means Riddles. [1978]
#10. Al-Shahi, Anmed and Francis Moore. Wisdom from the
Nile: A Collection of Folk-Stories from Northern and Central
Sudan. [1978]

#61. Gilroy, Tom. In Bikole: Eight Modern Stories About Life in a
West African Village. [1978]

#122. Larson, Thomas. Dibebe’s Choice. [1978]

#142. Mitchnik, Helen. Egyptian and Sudanese Folk-Tales.
11978]

#97. Price, Christine. The Mystery of Masks. [1978]

#3. Aardema, Verna. Who's in Rabbit’s House? A Masai Tale.
[1979]

#93. Green, Lila. Tales from Africa. [1979]

#167. Ross, Mabel and Barbara Walker. On Another Day: Tales
Told among the Nkundo of Zaire. [1979]

404 |

#77. El-Shamy, Hasan. Folktales of Egypt. [1980]

#159. Pelton, Robert Doane. The Trickster in West Africa: A
Study of Mythic Irony and Sacred Delight. [1980]

#175. Seitel, Peter. See So That We May See: Performances and
Interpretations of Traditional Tales from Tanzania. [1980]

#38. Bryan, Ashley. Beat the Story-Drum, Pum-Pum. [1981]

#72. Diop, Birago. Mother Crocodile: An Uncle Amadou Tale
from Senegal. [1981]

#160. Petersen, Kirsten Holst and Anna Rutherford. Cowries and
Kobos: The West African Oral Tale and Short Story. [1981]

#162. Pitcher, Diana. Tokoloshi: African Folk-Tales. [1981]

#61. Courlander, Harold. The Crest and the Hide, and Other
African Stories. [1982]

#7. Abrahams, Roger D.. African Folk Tales: Traditional Stories
of the Black World. [1983]

#131. Magel, Emil. Folktales from the Gambia: Wolof Fictional
Narratives. [1984]
#51. Wren, Robert. J. P. Clark. [1984]

#119. Laird, Elizabeth and Aregawi Wolde Gabriel. The Miracle
Child: A Story from Ethiopia. [1985]

#94. Grifalconi, Ann. The Village of Round and Square Houses.
f1986]

#136. McDermott, Gerald. Anansi the Spider: A Tale from the
Ashanti. [1986]

#38. Bryan, Ashley. Lion and the Ostrich Chicks. [1987]

#64. Dadié, Bernard Binlin. The Black Cloth: A Collection of
African Folktales. [1987]

#94. Grifalconi, Ann. Darkness and the Butterfly. [1987]

#92. Greaves, Nick. When Hippo Was Hairy, and Other Tales
from Africa. [1988]

| 405

#100. Hamilton, Virginia. In the Beginning. [1988]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Anansi and the Moss-Covered Rock. [1988]
#115. Kimmel, Eric. Miriam’s Tambourine: Jewish Folktales from
around the World. [1988]

#4. Aardema, Verna. Rabbit Makes a Monkey of Lion: A Swahili
Tale. [1989]

#17. Atkinson, Norman. The Broken Promise, and Other
Traditional Fables from Zimbabwe. [1989]

#124. Lester, Julius. How Many Spots Does a Leopard
Have? [1989]

#187. Tadjo, Véronique. Lord of the Dance. [1989]

#94. Grifalconi, Ann. Osa’s Pride. [1990]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. The Orphan Boy. [1990]

#170. Scheub, Harold. The African Storyteller: Stories from
African Oral Traditions. [1990]

#31. Berry, Jack. West African Folktales. [1991]

#51. Clark-Bekederemo, J. P. Collected Plays and Poems,
1958-1988. [1991]

#135. McCall Smith, Alexander. Children of Wax: African Folk
Tales. [1991]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. Rhinos for Lunch and Elephants for
Supper! A Maasai Tale. [1991]

#146. Naidoo, Beverley. Journey to Jo’burg. [1991]

#168. Savory, Phyllis. The Best of African Folklore. [1991]

#178. Skivington, Janice and Donna Washington. How Anansi
Obtained the Sky Goa’s Stories: An African Folktale from the
Ashanti Tribe. [1991]

#181. Steptoe, John. Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters: An African
Tale. [1991]

#178. Washington, Donna. The Baboon’s Umbrella: An African
Folktale. [1991]

#22. Bascom, William. African Folktales in the New World.
[1992]

406 |

#148. Innes, Gordon. The Epic of Son-Jara: A West African
Tradition. [1992]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Anansi Goes Fishing. [1992]

#136. McDermott, Gerald. Zomo the Rabbit: A Trickster Tale
from West Africa. [1992]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. A Promise to the Sun. [1992]

#172. Schwartz, Howard and Barbara Rush. The Sabbath Lion:A
Jewish Folktale from Algeria. [1992]

#183. Strong, Polly. African Tales: Folklore of the Central African
Republic. [1992]

#200. Winther, Barbara. Plays From African Tales. [1992]

#169. Zenani, Nongenile Masithathu. The World and the Wora:
Tales and Observations from the Xhosa Oral Tradition. [1992]

#143. Aardema, Verna. Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain. [1993]
#19. Barbosa, Rogério Andrade. African Animal Tales. [1993]
#67. Bryan, Ashley. The Story of Lightning and Thunder. [1993]
#44. Cabral, Len. Anansi’s Narrow Waist: An African Folk Tale.
11993]

#65. Davis, Jennifer. The Stolen Water and Other Stories:
Traditional Tales from Namibia. [1993]

#92. Greaves, Nick. When Lion Could Fly, and Other Tales from
Africa. [1993]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. The King and the Tortoise. [1993]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. The Princess Who Lost Her Hair: An
Akamba Legend. [1993]

#155. Orlando, Louise. The Multicultural Game Book. [1993]
#156. Owomoyela, Oyekan. A History of Twentieth-Century
African Literatures. [1993]

#5. Aardema, Verna. Misoso: Once Upon a Time Tales from
Africa. [1994]

#28. Bennett, Martin. West African Trickster Tales. [1994]

#81. Fairman, Tony. Bury My Bones but Keep My Words: African
Tales for Retelling. [1994]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Anansi and the Talking Melon. [1994]

| 407

#134. Mbugua, Kioi wa. Inkishu: Myths and Legends of the
Maasai. [1994]

#136. McDermott, Gerald. The Magic Tree: A Tale from the
Congo. [1994]

#137. McNeil, Heather. Hyena and the Moon: Stories to Tell from
Kenya. [1994]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. The Flying Tortoise: An Igbo Story. [1994]
#152. Olaleye, Isaac. Bitter Bananas. [1994]

#89. Gleeson, Brian. Koi and the Kola Nuts. [1995]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Rimonah of the Flashing Sword: A North
African Tale. [1995]

#117. Knappert, Jan. African Mythology: An Encyclopedia of
Myth and Legend. [1995]

#117. Knappert, Jan. Kings, Gods and Spirits from African
Mythology. [1995]

#139. Medlicott, Mary. The River That Went to the Sky: Twelve
Tales by African Storytellers. [1995]

#155. Orlando, Louise. African Folktales and Activities. [1995]

#8. Achebe, Chinua. How Leopard Got His Claws. [1996]

#32. Berry, James. Don’t Leave an Elephant to Go and Chase a
Bird. [1996]

#144. Muluka, Barrack. Why Dog Left the Forest. [1996]

#156. Owomoyela, Oyekan. The African Difference: Discourses
on Africanity and the Relativity of Cultures. [1996]

#126. Palazzo-Craig, Janet. Emerald Tree: A Story from Africa.
11996]

#126. Palazzo-Craig, Janet. The Golden Flower: A Story from
Egypt. [1996]

#177. Skinner, Neil. Hausa Comparative Dictionary. [1996]

#35. Watson, Stephen. Song of the Broken String: Poems from
a Lost Oral Tradition. [1996]

#44. Cabral, Len and Mia Manduca. Len Cabral’s Storytelling
Book. [1997]

408 |

#52. Collins, Stanley Harold. Ananse the Spider: Why Spiders
Stay on the Ceiling. [1997]

#69. Diakité, Baba Wagué. The Hunterman and the Crocodile:
A West African Folktale. [1997]

#100. Hamilton, Virginia. A Ring of Tricksters: Animal Tales from
America, the West Indies, and Africa. [1997]

#116. Kituku, Vincent Muli Wa. East African Folktales from the
Voice of Mukamba. [1997]

#116. Kituku, Vincent Muli Wa. Sukulu Ite Nguta: The School
with No Walls. [1997]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. Ananse’s Feast: An Ashanti Tale. [1997]
#156. Owomoyela, Oyekan. Yoruba Trickster Tales. [1997]

#182. Stewart, Dianne. Daughter of the Moonlight and Other
African Tales. [1997]

#38. Bryan, Ashley. African Tales, Uh-Huh. [1998]

#76. Dresser, Cynthia. The Rainmaker’s Dog: International
Folktales to Build Communicative Skills. [1998]

#109. Ibekwe, Patrick. Wit and Wisdom of Africa: Proverbs from
Africa and the Caribbean. [1998]

#126. Lilly, Melinda. Kwian and the Lazy Sun: a San Myth. [1998]
#126. Lilly, Melinda. Spider and His Son Find Wisdom: An Akan
Tale. [1998]

#126. Lilly, Melinda. Wanyana and Matchmaker Frog: A
Bagandan Tale. [1998]

#126. Lilly, Melinda. Warrior Son of a Warrior Son: A Masai Tale.
[1998]
#126. Lilly, Melinda. Zimani’s Drum: A Malawian Tale. [1998]
#132. Mama, Raouf. Why Goats Smell Bad, and Other Stories
from Benin. [1998]

#143. Mollel, Tololwa. Kitoto the Mighty. [1998]

#152. Olaleye, Isaac. Lake of the Big Snake: An African Rain
Forest Adventure. [1998]

#186. Swann, Brian. The House With No Door: African Riddle-
Poems. [1998]

| 409

#6. A’Bodjedi, Enénge. Ndowé Tales. [1999]

#148. Austen, Ralphe. /n Search of Sunjata: The Mande Oral
Epic as History, Literature and Performance. [1999]

#26. Belcher, Stephen. Epic Traditions of Africa. [1999]

#39. Bryan, Ashley. The Night Has Ears: African Proverbs. [1999]
#70. Diakité, Baba Wagué. The Hatseller and the Monkeys: A
West African Folktale. [1999]

#148. Johnson, John William. Sunjata: Gambian Versions of the
Mande Epic. [1999]

#157. Paye, Won-Ldy and Margaret Lippert. Why Leopard Has
Spots: Dan Stories from Liberia. [1999]

#189. Tembo, Mwizenge. Legends of Africa. [1999]

#197. Wignell, Edel. The Mighty Sparrow: A Trickster Tale of the
African Congo. [1999]

#83. Ford, Clyde. The Hero With an African Face: Mythic
Wisdom of Traditional Africa. [2000]

#92. Greaves, Nick. When Elephant Was King, and Other
Elephant Tales from Africa. [2000]

#118. Laird, Elizabeth. When the World Began: Stories Collected
in Ethiopia. [2000]

#125. Lewis-Williams, J. David. Stories That Float from Afar:
Ancestral Folklore of the San of Southern Africa. [2000]

#132. Mama, Raouf. The Barefoot Book of Tropical Tales. [2000]
#152. Olaleye, Isaac. In the Rainfield: Who Is_ the
Greatest? [2000]

#171. Scheub, Harold. A Dictionary of African Mythology: The
Mythmaker as Storyteller. [2000]

#187. Tadjo, Véronique. Mamy Wata and the Monster. [2000]
#188. Tchana, Katrin. The Serpent Slayer and Other Stories of
Strong Women. [2000]

#18. Badoe, Adwoa. The Pot of Wisdom: Ananse Stories. [2001]
#51. Irele, Abiola. The African Imagination. [2001]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Anansi and the Magic Stick. [2001]

#145. Musgrove, Margaret. The Spider Weaver: A Legend of

410 |

Kente Cloth. [2001]

#150. Offodile, Buchi. The Orphan Girl and Other Stories: West
African Folk Tales. [2001]

#152. Olaleye, Isaac. Bikes for Rent! [2001]

#24. Stroomer, Harry. An Anthology of Tashelhiyt Berber
Folktales. [2001]

#81. Asare, Meshack. Sosu’s Call. [2002]

#109. Ibekwe, Patrick. The Little Book of African Wisdom. [2002]
#122. Larson, Thomas. Tales from the Okavango. [2002]

#125. Lewis-Williams, J. David. The Mind in the Cave:
Consciousness and the Origins of Art. [2002]

#77. Maspero, Gaston. Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt. [2002]
#157. Paye, Won-Ldy and Margaret Lippert. Head, Body, Legs: A
Story from Liberia. [2002]

#188. Tchana, Katrin. Sense Pass King: A Story from Cameroon.
[2002]

#38. Bryan, Ashley. Beautiful Blackbird. [2003]

#140. Mhlophe, Gcina. Stories of Africa. [2003]

#157. Paye, Won-Ldy and Margaret Lippert. Mrs. Chicken and
the Hungry Crocodile. [2003]

#77. El-Shamy, Hasan. Types of the Folktale in the Arab World.
[2004]

#125. Lewis-Williams, J. David. San Spirituality: Roots,
Expression and Social Consequences. [2004]

#129. Lynch, Patricia Ann. African Mythology A to Z. [2004]
#158. Peek, Philip and Kwesi Yankah. African Folklore: An
Encyclopedia. [2004]

#187. Tadjo, Véronique. Talking Drums. [2004]

#195. Washington, Donna. A Pride of African Tales. [2004]

#135. McCall Smith, Alexander. The Girl Who Married a Lion and
Other Tales from Africa. [2005]

#182. Stewart, Dianne. Wisdom From Africa: A Collection of
Proverbs. [2005]

| 41

#135. McCall Smith, Alexander. Folktales from Africa: The
Baboons Who Went This Way and That. [2006]

#146. Naidoo, Beverley. The Great Tug of War and Other Stories.
[2006]

#148. Niane, Djibril Tamsir. Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali. [2006]
#157. Paye, Won-Ldy and Margaret Lippert. The Talking
Vegetables. [2006]

#182. Stewart, Dianne. Folktales from Africa. [2006]

#187. Tadjo, Véronique. Chasing the Sun: Stories from Africa.
[2006]

#188. Tchana, Katrin. Changing Woman and Her Sister: Stories
of Goddesses from Around the World. [2006]

#7). Diakité, Baba Wagué. Mee-An and the Magic Serpent: A
Folktale from Mali. [2007]

#82. Finnegan, Ruth. The Oral and Beyond: Doing Things with
Words in Africa. [2007]

#133. Mandela, Nelson. Favorite African Folktales. [2007]

#174. Seid, Joseph Brahim. Told by Starlight in Chad. [2007]

#115. Kimmel, Eric. Anansi’s Party Time. [2008]
#118. Laird, Elizabeth. The Garbage King. [2008]

#9, African Women’s Network. Stories from Africa. [2009]

#120. Laird, Elizabeth. The Ogress and the Snake, and Other
Stories from Somalia. [2009]

#172. Schwartz, Howard. Leaves from the Garden of Eden: One
Hundred Classic Jewish Tales. [2009]

#153. Onyefulu, Ifeoma. The Girl Who Married a Ghost and
Other Tales from Nigeria. [2010]

#107. Crane, Louise. Ku Mputu: An African Journey. [2011]
#146. Naidoo, Beverley. Aesop’s Fables. [2011]

#14. Arkhurst, Joyce. The Further Adventures of Spider. [2012]
#82. Finnegan, Ruth. Oral Literature in Africa. [2012]

412 |

#47. Cancel, Robert. Storytelling in Northern Zambia. [2013]
#69. Diakité, Baba Wagué. A Gift from Childhood. [2013]

#101. Haring, Lee. How to Read a Folktale: The Ibonia Epic from
Madagascar. [2013]

#106. Hofmeyr, Dianne. The Magic Bojabi Tree. [2013]

#118. Laird, Elizabeth. The Lure of the Honey Bird: The
Storytellers of Ethiopia. [2013]

#91. Grainger, Lisa. Stories Gogo Told Me. [2015]

#141. Mhlophe, Gcina. African Tales: A Barefoot Collection.
[2018]

#87. Gibbs, Laura. Tiny Tales from Africa: The Animals. [2021]
#121. Lang, Andrew. African Folktales in the Fairy Books of
Andrew Lang. [2021]

| 413

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