If a warrior beats a boy on the grazing ground, the boy tears up some grass, and when the warrior sees that the child has grass in his hand, he stops beating him.
Again, if the Masai fight with an enemy, and wish to make peace, they hold out some grass as a sign.
Whenever warriors return from a raid, and it is desired to praise those who have killed some of the enemy, a girl takes a small gourd of milk, and having covered it with green grass, sprinkles it over them.
Then, if people move from one kraal to another, they tie grass on to the gourds.
Should one man ask forgiveness of another with grass in his hand and his request be not attended to, it is said that the man who refuses to listen to his prayer is a Dorobo, and that he does not know about cattle.
Again, if a man who is proceeding on a journey sees a tree which has fallen on the road, he pulls up some grass, and throws it on the tree; otherwise he fears that his journey will not be successful.
The Masai love grass very much, for they say: “God gave us cattle and grass, we do not separate the things which God has given us.”
Whenever Masai women milk their cows, they take some milk from the gourd and pour it away, for they say: “God likes this.”
The Masai: Their Language and Folklore A. C. Hollis.
MOTHER-LOVE
An old woman, who had only a son left to her, was so poor that she had no cattle for him to marry with. One day she told him to go and shoot a bushbuck. When the skin had been stretched and dried, the old woman made it into a cloak. After she had told her son to go and warn the neighbours that buck were eating their crops, she put on the cloak and went to a nearby field, where she crouched in the scrub on the border of the cultivation. She moved about slowly in a stooping position as if searching for vegetables. Presently one of the neighbours saw what he thought was a bushbuck feeding, shot it with an arrow and then found the old woman lying dead in the bush. He had to pay the compensation cattle, and so the dead woman’s son was able to marry.
The Kipsigis I. Q. Orchardson.
HARE AND SUN
This is a short story about why Hare leads a solitary life under bushes. One day when Sun came up he called down to the animals below: “Please let me come and join you, for life up here is very lonely.” The animals heard the Sun, and that night voted for him to come to join them on earth. That is, all the animals were in favour except Hare, who explained that if Sun came down to join them, they would all be burnt up. Next morning when Sun came back the animals said they were sorry, but he couldn’t come to join them on earth because Hare had said that he would burn them all up. This angered Sun, who put a curse on Hare, that Hare would have as many companions as Sun had throughout his life.
Told by Ngatini Leboyare and transcribed by Simon Hook, Maralal, 1979.
A GREEDY HYENA
Once upon a time, during a severe shortage of meat, a pack of hyenas roamed the plains. In their search for food a hyena called Pilli-Pilli came across a dead elephant. Not wishing to share his find with the rest of the pack, Pilli-Pilli led them away from it to spend the rest of the day roaming the plains. In the evening, when they had all gathered in some caves for the night, he told them that he knew of a place where the members of the pack could gorge themselves forever, such was the never-ending supply. Of course, they all wanted to know where this heavenly larder was. Pilli-Pilli said that a witch-doctor had told him of it, and that next morning, very early, he would lead them to it.
And so, very early, they set off with Pilli-Pilli in the lead in the direction of the rising sun. They ran and ran as the blood-red sun began to show itself over the horizon. Then Pilli-Pilli sat down and said to them: “You see that mound of glowing red in the distance: that is all meat, and as the witch-doctor said, meat for everyone. I’m tired, but you go on and I’ll catch you up later.” So the rest of the pack sped on towards the prize and Pilli-Pilli returned to the elephant and had it all to himself.
He ate and ate, and left off eating to try out his strength. He made a jump and tried to clear the elephant, but there was so much meat inside him that he couldn’t leave the ground. Pilli-Pilli was one of those who believed that meat gives strength, so when he found that he could not jump off the ground, he thought that more meat was needed. He went back to eating and ate and ate, then tried his strength again and found that there was no improvement. So back he went to eating until he ate so much that he burst. And that was the end of Pilli-Pilli.
Meanwhile his friends had run for miles and miles and, seeing their prize float up into the sky, began to climb on top of one another in an attempt to reach it. As soon as the weight got too much, the hyenas at the bottom collapsed and so they all came crashing down. And that is why hyenas are still limping to this day.
Told by Ngatini Leboryare and transcribed by Simon Hook, Maralal, 1979.
A COMPASSIONATE HYENA
The old people used to tell us long ago of the old widow who was the mother of eight sons. War broke out and one of the sons was killed; again they made war and another was killed and so on until only the youngest was left. He in his time went to war and when the warriors returned, the old woman asked them where her son was. They replied: “He is coming but is behind”, as they did not like to tell her that he had been killed. When she asked again and received the same reply, she knew they were not telling her the truth. So she went in search of her son and took a rope with her, saying: “If he is dead, I will hang myself so that he will not die alone.” She searched everywhere and passed many bodies until at last she found that of her son. She sat down and clasped his body to her.
It was late at night and the hyenas began to arrive and to ask one another: “Where is Kopchebanyin?” for so they called this man as all his brothers were dead. When they found his body they called their elder, Kokomondoe, and said “Taste him for us.”
If there is an elder in a house at meal times, it is customary for him to taste the food first before the younger people eat, even though he does not himself partake of the meal. But when Kokomondoe arrived the mother said to him: “You shall not taste this one this time. Why have you finished all my sons? If only you had left me just one.” She threw the rope she had brought round Kokomondoe’s neck.
He said: “Don’t tie me and I will raise your son for you. But if I raise him you will go and tell people I made your dead son live.”
“No,” replied the woman, “I will say nothing.”
He told her to move out of the way and came and sat down and closed all the wounds. Then he smacked the body and asked the mother what his name was. When she told him, he raised the head so that the man sat up and held him so that he should not fall, for he was as if drunk. Kokomondoe then asked him who he was and he replied: “I am so and so.”
“Who is this?” asked Kokomondoe.
“My mother,” he replied.
“Where are you?” asked Kokomondoe.
“I don’t know,” was the reply for the man was still confused.
The mother ran and embraced her son and said: “Thank God for my only child.”
“Who brought you to life?” then asked Kokomondoe.
“How should I know,” was the reply.
“I did,” said the hyena, “but when you reach home do not say so.”
“I will not tell,” he replied.
“That is not true. You will.”
After the warrior had sworn he would not tell, the hyena told him not to boast of it because if he did he would die.
Then the mother said: “If I find he is really alive, he shall not go to war again.”
“Let him go to war,” replied the hyena, “no one will be able to kill him.” The hyenas went with the mother and her son to their home and then left them.
The son went to war continually but no one could kill him. He always came back with cattle for his mother and he married four wives who bore him many children. At last he became an old man and could no longer go to war. When he was very old, his grandchildren
and their children used to lead him about as he could no longer go alone. One day he was drinking beer with his sons, when the guests became noisy as they vied with each other in boasting of their exploits and in telling stories of the cattle they had captured.
At last the old man said: “Be quiet while I also speak. If the hyena had not raised me from the dead, where should I be now?” At once the old wounds burst open, the blood flowed and his bowels gushed out so that he died where he sat.
The Kipsigis I. Q. Orchardson.
Throughout much of Africa the chameleon, most harmless of reptiles, is dreaded and abhorred. There are many versions of the reason why. This is one.
Almost the only other four-limbed creature I saw was a chameleon. Most natives of East Africa dislike and kill this creature, probably on account of his forbidding appearance, but various curious stories are current as to the origin of their dislike. One which I once heard in Zanzibar imputes to the beast the introduction of natural death into the world. A long time ago, when things went better than they do now, people used to die for some sufficient reason – when they were killed by their enemies or eaten by their friends, for instance – but they did not grow old and decay in the deplorable modern fashion. The consequence was that there were too many people, and not enough rice and bananas for them to eat. The kings and political economists of the period became alarmed, held a conference, and decided to send an embassy to the powers of the other world and ask for the introduction of natural death, at the end of a certain term of life. They selected the lizard as their messenger.
The populace, hearing of their deliberations, determined to anticipate this petition by one of their own, and to beg that the request of the kings might be refused. Their choice fell on the chameleon as messenger on account of his great family connections, for he is nearly related to the powers of the other world, as you will clearly see if you look at him. Observe the contemptuous deliberation of his movements because he knows no other animal dare touch him, and the cold, incurious stare in his diabolical eyes, which he turns superciliously round without moving his body. The chameleon admitted that he had influence with his relations, and undertook the task, but, instead of going straight and quickly, sauntered off in his usual listless way. On the road he saw a pleasant shrub, and, forgetting what he had promised, sat upon it for three days catching flies with his long, sticky tongue. At last he arrived at his destination, and found his near relatives, the powers of the other world, sitting in their dim, mysterious hut by a swampy river. They received him with great deference and cordiality, and he sat there twelve hours being entertained and exchanging greetings. Then at last he mentioned the object of his visit. His relations exclaimed at once that if they had only known that he took the faintest interest in such things they would have been most happy to meet his wishes, but the lizard, they said, had been there a few hours before he arrived and had taken natural death with him. The chameleon was annoyed, but said nothing for another twelve hours, when he suddenly observed, “I have an idea.” “What is it, dear cousin?” inquired his relatives with interest and anxiety. “We might send after the lizard and stop him.” “To hear is to obey,” they said. “We have a messenger who is as quick as thought; we will send him after the lizard.” The messenger went, but returned almost immediately and reported that the lizard had just arrived and had handed the fatal invention to the kings. So natural death entered the world all through the laziness and apathy of the chameleon.
The East Africa Protectorate Sir Charles Eliot.
Cannibals appear in many tribal tales throughout East Africa. This is a Samburu version.
THE MORAN AND THE MAN-EATER
Once upon a time the moran of a manyatta went far into the forest to feast on a bull which they drove before them. When they had reached a suitable glade they slaughtered and cut up the bull, and gave one of their number the stomach to fill with water at a nearby pool. While he was filling the stomach with water a voice from behind him demanded: “Who are you, and why are you taking my water?”
Looking about him, the moran saw N’gambit, a man-eating monster with nine heads and one large leg on which he hopped about. The moran nervously replied that he was only a moran collecting water to drink. Then he dropped the bull’s stomach and ran back to tell his friends that he had seen N’gambit, and they had better leave before it ate them up. Not believing him, another moran went to collect firewood in the same place, but he was quickly back saying that he had seen N’gambit and that they must leave at once, as N’gambit was getting angry at being disturbed.
With the moran was a pretty girl called Sikinan and her impetuous lover. Seeking to impress her with his bravery, the impetuous moran went down to the stream and filled the bull’s stomach with water. Then he picked up a pile of fallen firewood and began to make his way back to the glade. He had almost reached the glade when a voice from the forest demanded to know who he was and what he was doing. “I am a warrior lover of a beautiful girl called Sikinan and I am collecting water and firewood in preparation for a feast. What’s it to you?” N’gambit then emerged from the forest and terrified the moran with his bellowing from all his nine heads.
Fearing for their lives, the moran threw the back leg of the bull to N’gambit who caught it with one of his nine heads, while the remaining eight heads shouted back that the leg was unfit for N’gambit because urine had been spilt on it. Then they threw the bull’s thigh to N’gambit. Again, one head gobbled it up while the other eight shouted that the thigh should be eaten only by elders and he feared the curses of his father. Then they threw the back; that, too, was eaten by one head while the others shouted that this was fit only for girls and he feared the anger of his sisters. This continued until the whole of the bull had been thrown to N’gambit who was still hungry for more. The only thing now was to run for it which they did at great speed.
The moran were fast enough to make good their escape but Sikinan was not so fast a runner and was soon left behind to the mercy of N’gambit. Not knowing what else to do when faced by a nine-headed one-legged monster that had every intention of eating her, Sikinan sang a song praising N’gambit’s courage and strength. This pleased the monster, who soon began to fall asleep to the sweet sound of Sikinan’s voice. When he began to snore, Sikinan crept away and, once far enough away to be out of hearing, ran to join the moran who were waiting for her on the bank of a swift river. They had felled a tree from bank to bank at a narrow place and all had crossed over. They saw N’gambit, who had woken up, chase Sikinan towards the bridge. When Sikinan had crossed it and N’gambit was half-way over they rolled the tree trunk over and sent the one-legged monster into the fast river, and as each of the nine heads came up for air they were chopped off by the morans’ long knives.
Told by Ngatini Leboyare and transcribed by Simon Hook, Maralal, 1979.
THE MAGIC BIRD
A man cultivated his fields, and then planted rice, but soon the rice birds arrived in swarms and began to devour it. The man decided to catch the birds, and he set many snares. One day he caught a beautiful golden bird. It opened its mouth and said to him: “Do not kill me, son of Adam, I will reward you!” So he let it go. The next day he found many dozens of birds caught in his snares. He took them to the market and sold them. This went on for a long time, so that he became a rich man.
One day he caught the talking bird again, but this time he did not take any notice of what it said, however much it pleaded for its life. He killed it, and put it in his pan to fry. The dead bird began to sing:
Fry me well, fry me well,
you will see great wonders.
The man took no notice; he put the bird on his plate and cut it into pieces. Each of the pieces began to sing:
Finish me off, eat me completely,
you will see great wonders.
When the man had eaten up all the pieces of the bird, they reassembled in his stomach and became one bird again. The bird came back to life, it stood up, stretched, and the man’s stom
ach split open so that he died in great pain. The bird stepped out and flew away, back to the rice fields, where it went on eating rice.
Myths and Legends of the Swahili Jan Knappert.
An African Prometheus.
A long time ago a man borrowed a spear, katimu, from a neighbour to kill a porcupine which was destroying his crops. He lay in wait in the field and eventually speared one, but it was only wounded and ran off with the spear in its body and disappeared down a burrow. He went to the owner and told him that the spear was lost, but the owner insisted on having it back. Whereupon, the man bought a new spear and offered it to the owner in place of the lost weapon, but the owner refused it and again insisted on the return of the original spear. The man then proceeded to crawl down the porcupine burrow, and having crawled a long way found himself eventually, to his surprise, in a place where many people were sitting about cooking food by a fire. They asked him what he wanted and he told them of his errand. They then invited him to stay and eat with them; he was afraid and said he could not stay as he must go back with the spear which he saw lying there. They made no effort to keep him, but told him to climb up the roots of a mugumu tree, which penetrated down into the cavern, and said that he would soon come out into the upper world. They gave him some fire to take back with him. So he took the spear and the fire and climbed out as he was told.
Nine Faces Of Kenya Page 58