African American Folktales

by Roger Abrahams

  So Massa went up town hollering, “Grandmother for sale, Grandmother for sale!” Now nobody would even say a thing to him, thinking the man must really be crazy now. So after a while he went on back home and went over to John’s and told him: “You made me kill my own grandmother and my own good horse, and I’m going to throw you in the river.” So what could John do? He said, “Well, if you throw me in the river, I have to beat you even more at making money.” “No you won’t either,” Massa told him. “You’ve made your last money and pulled your last trick now.” He put Ol’ John in a sack and carried him down to the river. But he forgot his weights so he went back home to get some.

  While he was gone, one of these treefrogs came by, and John, the conjure man, said to him, “Mr. Hoptoad, if you open this sack and let me out I’ll give you a dollar.” Toad let him out right then, so Ol’ John got a big old softshell turtle and put it into the sack along with a couple of bricks. Then Ol’ Massa got his weights and came and tied them to the sack and threw it in the river.

  Now, while Ol’ Massa was down by the river fooling with the sack, Ol’ John got out his horsehide again, went up to town, and started his conjuring again. Along came this rich man who had heard all about how Ol’ John could tell things. So he told him to make that hide talk. Ol’ John hit that old hide and said to the rich man, “There’s a man in your smokehouse right now stealing meat from you, and another one is in your money safe and you know what he’s taking.” Now that man ran into his house and that’s what he found. And when he came out he said, “Well, you sure can see things with that hide.” And he gave him all kinds of things!

  So now Ol’ John had the most beautiful horse in town and stuff, and he went riding by Ol’ Massa’s house bold as brass, with big bags of money tied on each side of the saddle. Ol’ Massa just had to know how John had escaped, and gotten all the horses and money too. “I told you that if you threw me in the river I’d make even more money than you could. That’s what happens when you throw Ol’ John into the water, you see?” So Ol’ Massa got himself a bag and had John tie him up and carry him to the river and throw him in with all his weights tied on. As he threw him in, Ol’ John said, “Good-bye, Massa, I sure hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  —Florida

  Once, during the time of slavery, the pond was somewhat low. A negro happened to walk down there and found this turtle down there about the size of the bottom of a big tin tub, lying on the bank. So the negro said to the turtle, “Good morning, Mr. Turtle.” The turtle at first didn’t say anything, but finally said, “Good morning, Mr. Man.” The negro said, “My, Mr. Turtle, I didn’t know you could talk.” Turtle said, “What I say about you niggers is you talk too much.” So the negro goes back to his house and tells Old Massa about the turtle. He said, “Massa, don’t you know, I was down at the creek this morning, and there was a great big turtle on the bank, and he could talk.” Massa said, “Get away from here, you’re just lying.” The negro said he was telling the truth, but Master told him he lied like a dog. But the negro said, “No sir, he can really talk.”

  So the master said he would go down to see this turtle, but if he didn’t talk he was going to beat the slave half to death. Both of them went back down to the creek and they found the turtle lying on the bank. The negro walked right up to the turtle and said, “Good morning, Mr. Turtle.” Turtle didn’t say anything, so the negro repeated, “I say, good morning, Mr. Turtle.” Turtle still didn’t say anything. This time the negro got scared. He said, “Please sir, Mr. Turtle, please say good morning,” but Turtle wouldn’t talk.

  The Master took the negro back to the house and beat him half to death. After he got his beating, he went on back to the creek. He saw the turtle again and said to him, “Why didn’t you say good morning? You knew I was going to get a beating if you didn’t talk.” Turtle said, “Well, that’s what I say about you negroes, you talk too much anyhow.”

  —Alabama

  89

  MAKING THE EYES RUN

  Once upon a time, a king and queen were getting married and had a big wedding fest. They invited all the big shots and the poor people; but the big shots ate with plates and silver and when they were finished they threw their food on the ground for the poor people, who were black. While he was eating, one of the poor men started thinking that this way of eating was dirty, nastiness. So he went around to the big shots while they were celebrating with riddles and stories—all that kind of nonsense—and he listened to them doing Anansi story and stuff, and he figured out that he could do that as well as any rich man.

  This man just jumped right in there and told them: “Riddle, riddle,” showing that he knew how to play that nonsense as well as anybody. And they replied, “Shall be,” so that he could go on with the riddle. But there was such a crowd there, they didn’t even know that it was this black man that was making this riddle. So he got up and said, “Something round and black and runs water. What is that?” There was laughter and there was some screaming because some people thought that was a dirty riddle. A lot of them even got up and walked away from the table saying that they didn’t want to talk about it, it was such nastiness. So the black man said, “Do you give up?” And the few that were still there said, “Yes.” And he said, “Well, that is my eyes. They are round and black and run water sometimes.”

  Then some of the rich folks who had gone away came back in, and the others told them the answer the man had given. So they were feeling funny about that. So he said to them that he would give them another good riddle, and he asked them: “What is long, sometimes black, sometimes white, and sometimes red? When you hold it, it runs water?” And they thought and thought because they didn’t want to be tricked again. Finally, one said, “That is the eyes again.” And he said, “No, that is not the eyes.” So they said, “Well what is it, then? We give up.” And he said, “It is just what you thought it was before—your pip!”

  —Tobago

  90

  MAKING A WAGON FROM A WHEELBARROW

  One year, the boll weevils got into the cotton crop on Colonel Clemons’s plantation and destroyed most of it. This made times very hard for the colonel, and since he did not make any money, he did not provide enough food and clothing for the hands. So naturally they stole anything they could get away with.

  Never a week passed that some of the hands were not arrested and carried to jail.

  One day, the sheriff came out to Colonel Clemons’s farm and arrested John. With him were two white hands he had arrested on a neighboring plantation. John and the two white hands were all charged with stealing, and they were to be tried on the same day at the same hour.

  When John and the two white men were brought in to the courtroom and arraigned for trial, John got very nervous and started trembling. This was the first time in his life that he had not been able to think of an excuse. He knew, however, that they were going to try the white men first; so he decided to listen to their answers and imitate them when his turn came.

  The first case called was that of one of the white hands who was accused of stealing a horse.

  “Guilty, or not guilty?” said the judge.

  “Not guilty,” replied the man; “I’ve owned that horse ever since he was a colt.” The case was dismissed.

  Then the judge called the second white man to the stand. He was accused of stealing a cow. “Guilty, or not guilty?” asked the judge.

  “Not guilty,” replied the defendant. “I’ve owned that cow ever since she was a calf.” The case was dismissed.

  Then John was called to the stand. He was accused of stealing a wagon.

  “Guilty, or not guilty?” demanded the judge.

  “Not guilty,” replied John. “I’ve owned that wagon ever since it was a wheelbarrow.”

  —Texas

  91

  THE ONE-LEGGED TURKEY

  There was a gentleman who was so stingy he kept only one servant. That servant, John, was cook, butler, and everything, including farmyard
keeper. One day, the gentleman called on his servant, John, to cook a certain turkey he had been keeping his eye on for a special occasion.

  So John cooked the turkey, but it smelled so good that he took a risk and ate one of the legs. Then, when he served the turkey, he put that side down. The gentleman came in, tired and hungry, and ate and ate and ate. When he turned the turkey over he discovered that the leg was missing, so he called to John. “John, what’s become of the turkey’s other leg?” John said, “That turkey only had one leg, sir!” Just then he looked through a window and saw one of the turkeys standing with one leg under its wing. The master said, “Shit!” and the turkey moved, clucking. The master said, “There you are, John, see the turkey has two legs.” John said, “But, Master, did you say shit! to the one in the dish, sir?” The master said, “No,” and John replied, “Well, if you had yelled ‘shit’ at it, it would have put out the other leg too.”

  —St. Lucia

  92

  JOHN OUTRUNS THE LORD

  You know, before surrender Old Massa had a slave named John, and John always prayed every night before he went to bed. His prayer was for God to come get him and take him to Heaven right away. He didn’t even want to take time to die. He wanted the Lord to come and get him just like he was—boots, socks, and all. He’d get down on his knees and say: “O Lord, it’s once more and again your humble servant, knee-bent and body-bowed, my heart beneath my knees and my knees in some lonesome valley, crying for mercy while mercy can be found. O Lord, I’m asking you in the humblest way I know how to be so pleased as to come in your fiery chariot and take me to your Heaven and its immortal glory. Come, Lord, you know I have such a hard time. Old Massa works me so hard, and doesn’t give me time to rest. So come, Lord, with peace in one hand and pardon in the other, and take me away from this sin-sorrowing world. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

  One night, Old Massa passed John’s shack and heard him begging the Lord to come get him in his fiery chariot and take him away; so he made up his mind to find out if John meant it. He went on up to the big house and got himself a bed sheet and came on back. He threw the sheet over his head and knocked on the door.

  John quit praying and asked: “Who’s that?” Old Massa said: “It’s me, John, the Lord, coming with my fiery chariot to take you away from this sin-sick world.” Right under the bed John found he had some business. He told his wife: “Tell him I’m not here, Liza.”

  At first Liza didn’t say anything at all, but the Lord kept right on calling John: “Come on, John, and go to Heaven with me where you won’t have to plow any more furrows and hoe any more corn. Come on, John.” Liza said, “John isn’t here, Lord. You have to come back another time.”

  The Lord said, “Well then, Liza, you’ll do.” Liza whispered and said, “John, come out from underneath that bed and go on with the Lord. You’ve been begging him to come get you. Now go on with him.”

  John was back under the bed not saying a mumbling word. The Lord is out on the doorstep, and he kept on calling.

  Liza said, “John, I thought you were so anxious to get to Heaven. Come out and go on with God.” John said, “Didn’t you hear him say, ‘You’ll do’? Why don’t you go with him?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one who’s been whooping and hollering for him to come get you, and if you don’t come out from under that bed, I’m going to tell God you’re here.”

  Old Massa, still pretending he was God, said, “Come on, Liza, you’ll do.” Liza said, “O Lord, John is right here underneath the bed.” “Come on, John, and go to Heaven with me to immortal glory.” John crept out from under the bed and went to the door and cracked it; and when he saw all that white standing on the doorstep, he jumped back. He said, “O Lord, I can’t go to Heaven with you in your fiery chariot in these old dirty britches; give me time to put on my Sunday pants.”

  “All right, John, put on your Sunday pants.”

  John fumbled around a long time changing his shirt, and then he went back to the door, but Old Massa was still on the doorstep. John had nothing else to change into so he opened the door a little piece and said, “O Lord, I’m ready to go to Heaven with you in your fiery chariot, but the radiance of your countenance is so bright, I can’t come out with you right there. Stand back just a little way please.” Old Massa stepped back a little.

  John looked out again and said, “O Lord, you know that poor humble me is less than the dust beneath your shoe soles. And the radiance of your countenance is so bright I can’t come out by you. Please, please, Lord, in your tender mercy, stand back a little bit farther.” Old Massa stepped back a little bit more.

  John looked out again and he said, “O Lord, Heaven is so high and we’re so low; you’re so great and I’m so weak; and your strength is too much for us poor suffering sinners. So once more and again your humble servant is knee-bent and body-bowed asking you one more favor before I step into your fiery chariot to go to Heaven with you and wash in your glory—be so pleased in your tender mercy as to stand back just a bit farther.”

  Old Massa stepped back a step or two more, and out that door John came like a streak of lightning. He ran all across the pumpkin patch, through the cotton, over the pasture. John ran and here comes Old Massa right behind him. By the time they hit the cornfield John was way ahead of Old Massa.

  Back in the shack one of the children was crying and she asked Liza, “Mama, you reckon God’s going to catch Papa and carry him to Heaven with him?”

  “Shut your mouth, talking that foolishness!” Liza answered the child. “You know the Lord can’t outrun your pappy—specially when he’s barefooted at that.”

  —Florida

  93

  A FLYING FOOL

  This colored man died and went up there to meet his Maker. But when he got to the gates, St. Peter said that God wasn’t home or having any visitors—by which he meant no negroes allowed. Well, this old boy, he had been a good man all his life and his preacher had told him that Heaven would be his place, so he didn’t exactly know what to do. So he just kind of hung around the gates, until one time St. Peter just had to go and take a pee. So while Pete was gone, this old boy slipped through, stole himself a pair of wings, and he really took off. Sailed around the trees, in and out of those golden houses and all, swooped down and buzzed some of those heavenly singers and all, and had himself a good old time. Meanwhile, of course, St. Pete came back and found out what had happened and called out the heavenly police force to go get him. Well, this guy was just getting the feel of wearing wings, and he really took off, zoomed off. They had some little time bringing him down, him flying all over Heaven fast as he could go. Finally, they got him cornered and he racked up on one of those trees, and I tell you, he looked like a mess with broken wings and all. So they took him and threw him out the gates. Now here comes one of his friends, who asked him, “What happened, man?” He said, “Oh, man, when I got here they wouldn’t let me in to the white man’s Heaven, but I grabbed me some wings and I had me a fly.” He said, “Oh yeah?” Man said, “Yeah, they may not let any colored folks in, but while I was there I was a flying fool.”

  —Texas

  94

  HORSES STAY OUTSIDE

  A black man went to Heaven by land and knocked on the door. St. Peter came out and said, “Who is that?” Black Man said, “This is me.” St. Peter said, “You riding or walking?” Black Man said, “I’m walking.” St. Peter said, “Well, you can’t get in here unless you’re riding.” Black Man left; came on back down the road about five miles, met up with a white man. He said, “Mr. White Man, where are you going?” White Man said, “I’m going to Heaven.” Black Man said, “You can’t get in there walking. I just left there.” Then he had an idea. Black Man said, “I’ll tell you a way we’ll get in there.” Black Man said, “Let me be your horse and you get a-straddle me and I’ll go riding and carry you up to Heaven; and you knock on the gate, and when St. Peter asks you who you are, you tell him it’s you, and he
will say, ‘Both of you come on in.’ ” White Man said, “All right, get down.” The white man straddled the black man; Black Man went running back up to Heaven with him on his back. Rode him right up to the door. The white man knocked on the door. St. Peter said, “Who is there?” White Man said, “This is me.” St. Peter asked, “Are you riding or walking?” White Man said, “Riding.” St. Peter said, “Well, hitch your damn horse outside and come on in.”

  —Alabama

  95

  THE SINKING OF THE TITANIC

  It was a hell of day in the merry month of May

  When the great Titanic was sailing away.

  The captain and his daughter was there too,

  And old black Shine, he didn’t need no crew.

  Shine was downstairs eating his peas

  When the motherfucking water come up to his knees.

  He said, “Captain, Captain, I was downstairs eating my peas

  When the water come up to my knees.”

  He said, “Shine, Shine, set your black ass down.

  I got ninety-nine pumps to pump the water down.”

  Shine went downstairs looking through space.

  That’s when the water came up to his waist.

  He said, “Captain, Captain, I was downstairs looking through space,

  That’s when the water came up to my waist.”

  He said, “Shine, Shine set your black ass down.