The Annotated African American Folktales

by Henry Louis Gates

  1 treated so badly: The children are not abandoned, as in European analogues, but instead run away.

  2 dropped some ashes: In “Hansel and Gretel,” recorded by the Brothers Grimm in the nineteenth century, Hansel first scatters pebbles on the road to find his way back home, then bread crumbs, which are eaten by birds.

  3 the bees flew out of the bag: The triple attack of the bees may be the precursor to the story of Brer Rabbit and his Laughing-Place (the site of a hornet’s nest).

  4 took all of Zim’s possessions: Like many folkloric siblings, Demane and Demazana become tricksters who outwit the ogre, witch, or monster, not only surviving, but also gaining wealth and power.

  THE TAIL OF THE PRINCESS ELEPHANT

  There once lived a woman who had three sons. They were deeply attached to their mother and always tried to please her. After a time, she grew old and feeble. The boys began to wonder what they could do to make her happy. The eldest promised that he would cut a fine sepulcher in stone after her death. The second said that he would make a beautiful coffin. The youngest said, “I will go and get the tail of the princess elephant and put it in your coffin.” This promise was by far the hardest to keep.

  Not much later, the mother died. The youngest son set out immediately on his quest, without having an idea of where he would find the tail. After travelling for weeks, he reached a little village. There he met an old woman who seemed surprised to see him. She said that no human had ever been there before. The boy told her why he was searching for the princess elephant. The old woman replied that her village was the home of all the elephants and that the princess slept there every night. She warned him that the animals living there would kill him. The young man begged her to hide him—which she did, in a great pile of wood.

  The woman also told him that once the elephants fell asleep, he should get up and go into the far corner of the hut, where he would find the princess. He should walk boldly over to her and cut off her tail. If he acted frightened in any way, the elephants would wake up and catch him.

  The animals returned when it was growing dark. The smell of human flesh was in the air, and they asked the old woman about it. She assured them that they were mistaken. Their supper was ready, so they ate it and went to bed.

  In the middle of the night the young man got up and walked boldly across to where the princess was sleeping. He cut off her tail. He returned home with it, carrying the tail with great care.

  When daylight broke, the elephants woke up. One of them said he had dreamed about the princess’s tail and how it had been stolen. The others thrashed him just for imagining such a thing. A second elephant said he had had the same dream, and he was also thrashed. The wisest of all the elephants then suggested that it might be a good idea to see if the dream was true. This they did. They found the princess fast asleep, completely unaware that her tail was gone. They woke her up and sped off to find the young man.

  They travelled so fast that in a few hours they were able to make out the young man in the distance. He was terrified when he saw them running after him and cried out to his favorite idol (which he always wore in his hair): “O my juju1 Depor! What shall I do?” The juju advised him to throw a branch over his shoulder. He did that, and a huge tree began growing up from it, blocking the path of the elephants. The elephants stopped in front of the tree and started eating it. That took up some time.

  Then the elephants began the chase again. The young man cried out, “Oh my juju Depor! What shall I do?” “Throw that corn-cob behind you,” answered the juju. The lad did so, and the corncob immediately grew into a vast field of maize.

  The elephants ate their way through the maize, but when they arrived on the other side they found that the boy had already reached home. So they gave up the chase and returned to their village. The princess, however, refused to give up, saying, “I will return after I have punished this cheeky boy for stealing my tail.” She turned herself into a beautiful maiden, and, taking a calabash cymbal in one hand, she approached the village. Everyone came out to admire this lovely girl.

  When the princess arrived in the village, she proclaimed that whoever succeeded in shooting an arrow into the cymbal could marry her. The young men all tried and failed. An old man standing by said, “If only Kwesi—the man who cut the princess elephant’s tail—were here. He would be able to hit the cymbal.”

  “Then Kwesi is the man I shall marry,” the maiden said, “whether he hits the cymbal or not.”

  Kwesi was out ploughing fields, and he was quickly called and told about his good fortune. But he was not at all delighted to hear about it, for he suspected that the maiden had something up her sleeve. Still, he came and shot an arrow, and it struck the center of the cymbal. He and the young woman were married, but all that time she was preparing a punishment for him.

  The night after their marriage, the young woman turned back into an elephant while Kwesi was sleeping. She was just about to slay him when Kwesi woke up and shouted, “Oh my juju Depor! Save me!” The juju turned him into a grass mat on the bed, and the princess could not find him anywhere. She was deeply annoyed, and, the next morning, she asked him where he had been all night. “While you were an elephant, I was the mat you were lying on,” replied Kwesi. The young woman took all the mats from the bed and burned them.

  The next night the princess turned into an elephant again and was just about to slay her husband. This time the juju changed him into a needle, and his wife was unable to find him. In the morning, she asked where he had been. Hearing that the juju had helped him again, she decided to get hold of the idol and destroy it.

  The next day Kwesi went to his farm to begin ploughing a field. He told his wife to bring him something to eat at midday. When he finished his food, she said, “Put your head in my lap and go to sleep.” Kwesi forgot that the juju was hidden in his hair and did as she said. As soon as he was asleep, she took the juju out of his hair and threw it into a fire she had prepared. Kwesi awoke to find that she had turned back into an elephant. Terrified, he cried out, “Oh my juju Depor! What am I going to do?” The only answer came from out of the flames. “I am burning up. I am burning up. I am burning up.” Kwesi called out for help, and the juju replied, “Lift up your arms and pretend that you are going to fly.” He lifted his arms and turned into a hawk.

  That is why hawks are so often seen flying above the smoke from fires. They are looking for their lost juju.

  SOURCE: Adapted from William Henry Barker and Cecilia Sinclair, West African Folk-Tales, 123–30.

  Both a pourquoi tale (telling us how something came to be) and a fairy tale, the story of Kwesi and the Elephant Princess features talking animals, the threat of being devoured, and a magical pursuit. The three sons at the beginning of the tale are familiar from the European canon, and not surprisingly the youngest becomes the principal figure in a tale that moves in the mode of Jack and the Beanstalk (with man-eating monsters and a protective female figure), then modulates into a story with a supernatural helper, and includes a classic fairy-tale flight in which obstacles are cast in the path of the villain.

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  1 juju: In West African cultures, jujus are amulets and spells used in ritual practices. The juju is usually worn in the hair or on the body, but sometimes it is carried.

  THE MAIDEN, THE FROG, AND THE CHIEF’S SON

  There was once a man who had two wives, and they each had a daughter. He loved one of the two wives and her daughter, but he hated the other one and her daughter.

  One day the wife he disliked fell ill, and it was not long before she died. Her daughter was taken in by the other wife, the one he loved. The girl moved into that wife’s hut. And there she lived, with no mother of her own, just a father. And every day the woman would push her out of the hut, sending her off to the bush to gather wood. When she returned, she had to pound up the fura.1 Then she had to pound the tuwo,2 and, after that, she had to stir the pot. And then they would
n’t even let her eat the tuwo. All she had to eat were the burnt bits at the bottom of the pot. Day after day, things went on like this.

  The girl had an older brother, and he invited her to come and eat at his home, which she did. But still, when she returned home from the bush and asked for a drink of water, they would not let her have one. And they would not give her proper food—only the coarsest of what had been scraped from the bottom of the pot. She would take those scrapings and throw them into a pit where there were frogs. They would come out and start eating the scrapings. After they had finished eating, they would return to the water and she too would go back home.

  Things went on like that, day after day, until it was time for the Festival. The day before it was to take place, she went with scrapings and coarse leftovers to the pit and saw a frog squatting there. She realized that he was waiting for her. When she reached the pit, she threw bits of food into it. The frog said: “Young lady, you’ve always been very kind to us, and now we— Well, just come by here tomorrow morning. That’s the morning of the Festival. If you come by then, we will return the favor you have done us.” “Fine,” she said and returned home.

  The next day was the day of the Festival. She was about to go to the pit, just as the frog had told her. But as she was leaving, her half-sister’s mother said to her, “Hey—come over here, you good-for-nothing girl! You haven’t stirred the tuwo, or pounded the fura, or fetched the wood or the water.” So the girl never left. And the frog spent the entire day waiting for her. As for her, she returned to the compound and set off to fetch wood. Then she fetched water and set about pounding the tuwo, which she then stirred and removed from the fire. She was then told to take the scrapings to the pit. She did as she was told and went off to the pit, where the frog was waiting for her. “Tut, tut, girl,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you since morning, and you never came.”

  “Old fellow,” she said, “I’m a slave and didn’t have a choice.”

  “How come?” he asked.

  “Simple,” she replied. “My mother died and left me, her only daughter, all alone. I have a brother but he is married and lives in a compound of his own. My father put me in the care of his other wife. He never really loved my mother, and I was moved into the hut of his other wife. As I told you, slavery is my lot. Every morning I go off to the bush to get wood. When I return, I have to pound the fura, and then I pound the tuwo. I don’t get anything to eat, just the scrapings.” The frog said, “Give us your hand.” And she held it out to him, and both frog and girl leaped into the water.

  The frog then picked up the girl and swallowed her. And then he brought her back up. “Good people,” he said. “Tell me now, is she straight or is she crooked?”

  And they all looked and replied, “She is bent to the left.” So he picked her up and swallowed her again and brought her back up. He then asked the same question. “She’s quite straight now,” they said. “Very good,” he replied.

  The frog then produced from his mouth all kinds of clothes for her, and bangles, and rings, and a pair of shoes, one of silver and one of gold. “And now,” he said, “off you go to the dance.” All these things were given to her, and the frog said, “When the dancing is almost over and the dancers begin to leave, you must leave your golden shoe, the right one, there.” And the girl replied to the frog: “Very well, old fellow, I understand.” And off she went.

  Meanwhile the chief’s son asked some young men and women to dance for him, and he saw the girl when she joined the dancers. “Well!” said the chief’s son. “There’s a maiden for you, if you like. I’m not going to let her join the dancers. I don’t care where she comes from—bring her here!” So the servants of the chief’s son went over and came back with her. The chief’s son told her to sit down on the couch, and she took her place there.

  The two chatted for some time—until the dancers began to leave. Then she said to the chief’s son: “I have to leave.”

  “Oh, are you off?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said as she rose to her feet.

  “I’ll accompany you on your way for a while,” he said, and so he did. She, in the meantime, left her right shoe behind. After a while, she said, “Chief’s son, you must go back now,” and he did so. She returned home on her own.

  The frog was sitting by the edge of the water waiting for her. He took her hand, and the two of them jumped into the water. Then he picked her up and swallowed her and brought her back up. There she was, just as she had been before, a sorry sight. And taking her raggedy things, she returned home.

  When the girl got back, she said, “Fellow-wife of my mother, I’m not feeling well.” And the woman said to her, “You little rascal! You’ve been up to no good. You have been away and failed to fetch water or wood, failed to pound the fura or make the tuwo. Very well, then! No food for you today!” And so the girl left for her brother’s compound, and there she ate some food and returned home again.

  Meanwhile, the chief’s son had picked up the shoe and said to his father: “Last night I spoke with a girl who was wearing a pair of shoes, one made of gold, the other of silver. Look, here’s the golden one—she left it behind. She’s the girl I want to marry. Let all the girls, young and old, gather together. They can each try on the shoe.” “Very well,” the chief said.

  And so it was proclaimed, and all the girls, young and old, gathered in one place. And the chief’s son went with the shoe and sat down. Each girl came and tried on the shoe, but it fit no one at all. Then someone said, “Wait a minute! There’s that girl in so-and-so’s compound, whose mother died some time ago.” “Yes, that’s right,” said another. “Someone should go fetch her.” And someone went and fetched her.

  The minute the girl arrived to try on the shoe, it ran over to her and slipped itself on her foot. The chief’s son said right then and there, “Here’s my wife.”

  At this, the other woman—the girl’s father’s other wife—said, “The shoe belongs to my daughter. It was she who left it where everyone was dancing, not this good-for-nothing layabout. But the chief’s son insisted that the shoe fit the girl who was there. She was the one he wanted to take to his compound in marriage. And so they took her there, and there she spent one night.

  The next morning she went out of her hut and walked behind it, and there was the frog. She knelt down respectfully and greeted him, “Welcome, old fellow, welcome.” He said, “Tonight we shall be along to bring some things for you.” She thanked him and he left.

  That night the frog rallied all the other frogs, and all his friends, both great and small, came along. He was their leader, and he said to them, “See here—my daughter is being married. I want every one of you to make a contribution.” And each of them went out and fetched what he could afford. Their leader thanked them all, and then regurgitated a silver bed, a brass bed, a copper bed, and an iron bed. And he kept bringing things up for her—woolen blankets, rugs, satins, and velvets.

  “Now,” he said to the girl, “if your heart is ever troubled, just lie down on this brass bed.” And he went on, “And when the chief’s son’s other wives come to greet you, give them two calabashes of cola-nuts and ten thousand cowrie shells. Then, when his concubines come to greet you, give them one calabash of cola-nuts and five thousand cowries.”

  “Very well,” she said. Then he said, “And when the concubines come to get corn for making tuwo, say to them. ‘There’s a bag full, help yourselves.’ ” “Very well,” she said.

  “And,” he added, “if your father’s wife comes along with her daughter and asks what it is like living in the chief’s compound, tell her ‘Living in the compound is a tedious business—for they measure out corn there with the shell of a Bambara groundnut.’ ” 3

  So there she lived until one day her father’s favorite wife brought her own daughter along with her at night, took her into the chief’s compound, and exchanged the two girls, taking home the one that was not her daughter. The woman said to her: “Oh! I forgot to get you t
o tell her all about married life in the chief’s compound.”

  “It’s a tedious life,” the girl said. “How so?” the older woman asked, surprised. “Well, they use the shell of a Bambara groundnut for measuring out corn. Then, if the chief’s other wives come to greet you, you reply with a contemptuous ‘Pfft.’ If the concubines come to greet you, you clear your throat and spit. And if your husband comes into your hut, you yell at him.”

  “I see,” said the woman and she passed all this on to her daughter, who was staying in the compound of the chief’s son.

  Next morning, when it was light, the wives came to greet her, and she said “Pfft” to them. The concubines came to greet her, and she spat at them. Then when night fell, the chief’s son made his way to her hut, and she yelled at him. He was astonished and left, and for two days he pondered the matter.

  The chief’s son called together his wives and concubines and said to them, “Look now—I’ve called you together to ask a question. The young woman they brought me is different. How did she treat all of you?” “Hmm—how indeed!” they all exclaimed. “Every morning, when we went to greet her, she would give us cola-nuts, two calabashes full, and cowries, ten thousand of them to buy tobacco flowers. And when the concubines went to greet her, she would give them a calabash of cola-nuts and five thousand cowries to buy tobacco flowers with; and in the evening, corn for tuwo. It would be a whole bagful!”

  “You see,” he said. “As for me, whenever I went to her hut, I found her kneeling respectfully. And she wouldn’t get up until I had entered and sat down on the bed.”

  “Hey,” he called out, “Boys, come over here!” And when they came, he went into her hut, took a sword, and chopped her up into little pieces. He had them collected and wrapped up and then sent back to her home.

  When the boys reached the house, they found the true wife lying by the hearth. They picked her up and brought her back to her husband.