African American Folktales

by Roger Abrahams

  With all the pigeons around now dead

  And I’m alone, just me here

  Don’t eat me, Dyer, don’t eat me.

  After he ate him, he felt terrible, his belly was all swollen up and getting larger and larger. And he felt like he needed to ease his belly. He went to the toilet, and nothing happened. It kept on like this until the middle of the night, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. So he went out in the dark; still nothing happened. Well, you know when you gotta go, you gotta go, and he really had to, but nothing came out. So he went to the side of the river and took down his pants, and the bird started singing again:

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  With all the pigeons around now dead

  And I’m alone, just me here

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  He couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He said to himself, “What is this? I eat the bird and still it is singing and my belly is going to burst.” So he went to the ocean, and again he took his pants down:

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  With all the pigeons around now dead

  And I’m alone, just me here

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  So he went onto the sand, and still the bird was singing; so he went into the water, until his feet couldn’t even touch the sand, and still the song:

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  With all the pigeons around now dead

  And I’m alone, just me here

  Don’t shit there, Dyer, don’t shit there.

  And along came this big swell, and picked him up and dashed him against rocks and tore him to pieces.

  And that’s why you don’t see people going into the sea, even up until today.

  —St. Vincent

  40

  LITTLE EIGHT JOHN

  Once and long ago, there was a little black boy named Eight John. He was nice-looking, but he didn’t act exactly like he looked. He was a mean little boy, and he wouldn’t listen to a word the grown folks told him, not a living word. So if his loving mammy told him not to do a thing, he would go straight out and do it. Yes, he was the spite of all the world.

  “Don’t step on toad frogs,” his loving mammy would tell him, “or you will bring bad luck on your family, yes you will.” Then Little Eight John would go out and find a toad and squash it.

  Sometimes he squashed a lot of toads. And then the cow wouldn’t give anything but bloody milk and the baby would have bad colic. But Little Eight John, he just ducked his head and laughed.

  “Don’t sit backward in your chair,” his loving mammy told Eight John. “It will bring the troubles to your family.” And so Little Eight John sat backward in every chair. Then his loving mammy’s cornbread burned and the milk wouldn’t churn. And Little Eight John just laughed and laughed and laughed, because he knew why all this was happening.

  “Don’t climb trees on Sunday,” his loving mammy told him, “or it will be bad luck.” So that Little Eight John, that bad boy, he snuck up trees on Sunday. Then his pappy’s potatoes wouldn’t grow and the mule wouldn’t go. Little Eight John knew how come.

  “Don’t count your teeth,” his loving mammy told Little Eight John, “or a sad sickness will come on your family.” But that Little Eight John, he went right ahead and counted his uppers and he counted his lowers. He counted them on weekdays and on Sundays. Then his mammy, she coughed and the baby got the croup. All because of that Little Eight John, the badness of a little old boy.

  “Don’t sleep with your head at the foot of the bed or your family will get weary money blues,” his loving mammy told him. So he did it and did it, that Little Eight John boy. And the family, it went broke with no money in the pot. Little Eight John, he just giggled.

  “Don’t have no Sunday moans, because Old Raw Head and Bloody Bones will come,” his loving mammy told him. So he went into the Sunday moans and he had the Sunday groans, and he moaned and he groaned and he moaned. And Old Raw Head and Bloody Bones came after that little bad boy and changed him into a little old grease spot on the kitchen table, and his loving mammy washed it off the next morning.

  And that was the end of Little Eight John.

  And that’s what always happens to never-minding little boys.

  —American South

  One poor man was making a living by splitting long shingles and cutting timber in the swamp. He had a wife but no children. Every day, from sunrise till sundown, he went to the swamp to cut. Though he tried his best, he scarcely could make enough for his everyday bread to eat.

  Once, a very big snake—the father of all those other snakes that lived in the swamp—noticed the man. He saw how hard he worked and how little he made and he took pity on him. One evening, just before the poor man left working, this snake crawled up to the log where the man had been chopping and said, “Brother, how you making out?” The man answered, “I don’t make out. I work in this swamp from day till dark, day in and day out, and I try my best, but I can scarcely make vittles enough for me and my wife to eat.” Then the snake said, “I am sorry for you and willing to help.” The man thanked him and asked him how, and the snake said, “Do you have any children?” The man said, “No!” The snake asked “Do you have a wife?” The man said, “Yes.” The snake said, “Can you keep a secret from your wife?” The man answered that he could. Brer Snake told him he was afraid to trust him; but when the man begged the snake very hard to try him, the snake agreed to do so. The snake told him he was going to give him some money the next day, but he mustn’t tell his wife where he got the money. The man made a strong promise, and they parted.

  The next day, just before the poor man finished working, the snake crawled up to him. His belly and his mouth were puffed out. He spit out two quarts of silver money on the ground right there in front of the poor man, and he said, “Do you remember what I told you last night? Well, sir, here is some money I brought to help you. Take it. But remember, if you tell your wife where you got it, or who gave it to you, it won’t do you any good, and you will die a poor man.” The man was so glad to get the money, he kept saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, my brother; I won’t ever tell anyone where I got this money.” After he left the swamp to go home, the snake suspected that he was going to go back on his promise and tell his wife, so he made up his mind to follow him and see what happened.

  It was dark when he reached the man’s house. He crawled up and lay down under the window where he could hear everything that was said inside the house. The wife was turned around and cooking supper. After she and her husband ate, her husband said, “I had a lot of work today, look at this money.” Then he pulled out the silver and spread it on the table. Well now, his wife was amazed. She jumped with happiness and said, “Tell me where you got this money.” The man said, “A friend gave it to me.” His wife said, “what friend?” The man said he had promised not to tell. The wife begged so hard that the man forgot his promise and went and told everything that had happened. Then the wife said, “That snake must have a belly full of silver money, and I will tell you what to do tomorrow. When the snake comes to talk to you, you pick a moment and chop off his head with your ax, and take all the money out of him.” And the husband agreed!

  Brer Snake heard every word they spoke, and he went to his house in the swamp very vexed because the man that he had befriended had gone back on his promise and made an evil plan to kill him.

  The next day, the man watched for the snake. When the sun lay far down, and the man was very tired from splitting one big log, Brer Snake crawled up alongside of the log and showed himself to the man. They talked together, and the snake asked the man, “Have you shown your wife the money I gave you?” The man answered, “Yes, I did.” And then he asked him,
“Did you tell your wife where you got it?” The man said, “No.” The snake asked him again, “Are you sure you didn’t tell her you got it from me?” The man said, “I told you once already. What makes you ask again? You think I am lying to you?” With that, he tried to chop off the snake’s head. But the snake had had his eyes on him and he drew back against the log. The ax missed the snake and glanced back off the log and cut the man’s own leg off. The poor man hollered for someone to come help him. But he was way in the middle of the swamp and out of everybody’s hearing. Well, he was bleeding to death, and just before he died, Brer Snake said to him, “Didn’t I tell you when you got that silver from me, that if you told your wife you would die a poor man? You promised me you would keep the secret. You went home to your wife and you showed her the money and you told her where you got it. More than that: you and she fixed a plan to kill me, me who had been your friend, and to rob me of the money I had left. Now you see the judgment that comes to you. When you tried to chop off my head, you cut your own foot off. You are going to die in these here woods. No man nor woman is ever going to find you. The buzzards are going to eat you.”

  And it happened just as the snake said. The man broke his word, and he died a poor man.

  Anybody who goes back on his promise and tries to harm the person who has done him a favor is sure to meet up with big trouble.

  —Georgia

  42

  THE LITTLE BIRD GROWS

  This once happened. There was a good child whose mother had died and whose father had married another woman. This woman didn’t like the child and gave him all kinds of trouble, but whenever this would happen the boy would cry for a moment, then he would laugh and be happy and sing all day long. He was that good.

  Now, the stepmother had a lot of bags of maize and rice that she sold in town, while the child went around in torn clothes and was always dead hungry. One day, as he was coming from school, he saw in the middle of the road a little bird hopping around. He crept up behind him and grabbed him and put him in his pocket. When he reached home, he sat the bird quietly in front of the kitchen door and he sang to it, but the bird wouldn’t sing a note. The child fed him, petted him a little, and whistled for him. Now the bird began to whistle too, making such beautiful music that the stepmother came into the kitchen to see for herself what was whistling this way.

  But she couldn’t hear the beauty of the song because she just wasn’t made that way. She said, “Lazy boy! What kind of noise is this?” He was surprised at her shouting. “Mother, don’t be angry! Look at what I found on the road, and listen to the beautiful song this bird is singing!” “You know there are too many lazy people in the house who I have to look after all the time. You alone are too much for me. If it was bigger, I would twist its neck and eat it.”

  The bird stopped singing. He looked right at the woman, then looked directly in her eye. Well, I’ll tell you that woman got frightened. Then the bird sang:

  Food, give me food,

  Give me food,

  Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng.

  Now she got really mad. “That’s what I’ve been telling everyone. This child is always getting people into trouble. And now this damned bird is asking for food!” The boy answered:

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  The bird said to me:

  “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!”

  The little bird flew around in circles over her head and threatened the stepmother, singing: “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!” She was afraid and told the boy: “This bird is a Devil trying to pluck out my eyes and bring me bad luck. Run to my pantry and bring a bag of rice to him to see if you can make him stop singing.”

  The child climbed the ladder and came back with a bag. The bird gave it but one stroke with its beak, and the bag burst open. He pecked and pecked and pecked. In fifteen minutes nothing was left. He had finished the whole twenty pounds. He grew as big as a hen, his coat shone, he turned all beautiful colors; his wings were blue powdered with yellow. He turned his face, and fixing them in the eye, said, “I forbid you to leave this place.” He opened his beak very wide and sang: “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!”

  Now the stepmother really started in scolding the boy because she was having to give up all this food. “See what kind of trouble you have gotten us into. You’re just a troublemaker. Why did you have to go out and catch this damned bird?”

  The bird opened his wings way out wide, flapped them a couple of times, and began to fly around and around in circles again. The stepmother yelled to the boy: “Run to the granary and get all the sorghum you can find. If that doesn’t help us, we are all going to be eaten up, I’m afraid.” “How can I do that, Mother, when the bird doesn’t want me to leave the room.” All the time the bird was singing: “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!”

  But he followed his stepmother’s orders and brought back seven bags of sorghum, hoping it would be enough, but the bird said, “You are my servants. You must stay and watch me while I am eating!” The woman screamed to God, but the bird shrieked and told her to shut up.

  She stopped short and watched as the bird crushed the grain like a mill! The more he ate, the larger he grew. By the time he had swallowed the seven bags of sorghum, he was taller than the child. He flapped his wings and the wind blew so hard they had a hard time even catching their breath. Now the bird saw through the door in the distance that a man was coming. The woman could see that it was her husband, and she called, “Ti-Nom! Bring your machete to the kitchen.” “Shut your mouth!” the bird cried.

  The man didn’t hear and kept on coming. The bird let him come very near and told him, “Come on in! You too are not allowed to go out of the room from now on. Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!” The crying boy sang:

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  The bird said to me:

  “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!”

  The woman whispered to her husband to choke the bird. The bird looked at her angrily. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Doomeng, I didn’t really say anything. Run to the granary and bring whatever maize we have left, down to the last grain, for Mr. Doomeng. Do you see that, Mr. Doomeng, everything I have is yours. May I go now?” “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!” sang the bird. The stepmother snapped, “Go, boy, go quickly!”

  Now the little boy came back with seven bags of maize. By now, each wing of the bird was as big as a five-pound can, and still he was growing all the time. When he had finished eating, his head reached the top of the house, he shook his wings, and the whole house shook with it and he boomed out his song: “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!” His voice was thunder. The boy cried out, then sang again:

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  I have no food

  To give to my bird.

  The bird said to me:

  “Doomeng, Doomeng, Doomeng!”

  So the stepmother shrieked at the bird: “Eat him! He’s the one who brought you here!” pointing to the boy. Doomeng looked at the woman and opened his mouth. The woman went to him like a butterfly that goes to a lamp, and Doomeng swallowed her up. Then he looked at the father. The man ran at him with his machete in his hand, and the bird swallowed him whole!

  The child was really scared now, and he threw himself flat on the ground; he caught Doomeng’s wing and kissed it begging: “Doomeng, he is my father! Dooomeng, give me back my father!” “You are a good child, so I will give you back your father, but promise me you will take me back to where you found me.” Doomeng sang:

  The wedding knife you see on the highway

  Must remain on the highway

  What you don’t know is stronger than you.

  “You have disturbed me while on duty. If I were not so weak toward you, it would not be your family only that would suffer; the whole country would have paid for this disturbance. But I am to
o good to you—I am forgiving you!”

  He spat out the father and then he made his body smaller and smaller, until he was once more a little bird. “Take me to the middle of the highway!” he instructed the boy. And so he did.

  —Haiti

  43

  TRICKING ALL THE KINGS

  There was once a king who had a deep well that gave him lots of fresh water. One day, he began to notice that some of his water was gone, and the rest all muddied up, and he couldn’t tell who had done this to him. He knew he had to catch the thief because the weather was so dry that no one could get any water except from the king’s well.

  So the king made a man out of tar and set it right by the mouth of the well. He put bread in one of the hands of the tar-man, and in the other, a fish. When the thief comes, the king figured, he will have to have a chat with him, and when he finds the tar-man won’t talk, he’ll hit him. And so he said, and so it happened. Up came the thief about eleven o’clock that night, and when he came near the well, he was startled. He said, “Good evening to you, sir.” But the tar-man didn’t respond. He said, “I’m just taking a walk around tonight and I got thirsty, so I wanted to ask you for some water.” The tar-man wouldn’t speak. The thief said, “I will have to find out who you are.” He went right up to the face of the image and he peered at it for a long time because it was so dark. “Oh, I see now, you are a watchman Massa King put here to frighten me away. But you are no good here.” And he slapped him in the jaw and his hand stuck.

  He said, “Oh hell! You look gummy. Let me go, will you?” The tar-man said nothing. He said, “I’ll give you another slap if you won’t let me go.” And he slapped him, and now his two hands were stuck. He said, “What do you mean by this? You won’t let me go? I’ll throw you into the well if you won’t let me go.” He said, “Massa King sent you here to hold me, and you are holding me, but I’m going to toss you into the well and then both of us will be down there, I’ll tell you.” And he tried to toss him, in his struggle to get away, and he just stuck more and more until he was fastened on from head to toe. And who was the thief? Buh Nansi.