At once they heard the voice:
They kill Anansi till . . .
They kill Anansi till . . .
The whole country will be flooded;
All the people will die;
The King himself will die.
Anansi alone will remain.
Then the King grew alarmed. He was afraid. He freed Anansi.
SOURCE: Melville J. Herskovits and Frances S. Herskovits, Suriname Folklore, 167–69.
The American anthropologist Melville J. Herskovits was one of the founding fathers of African and African American studies in the academic world. Rejecting the notion that African Americans lost their cultural heritage when they were enslaved, he showed, in The Myth of the Negro Past, the many cultural bridges connecting slaves with their past.
The motif of mimicking a deity by hiding in a tree and chanting words of mercy or retribution is found in many African American tales—further evidence of Herskovits’s point. Here it is Anansi’s youngest son who proves to be the resourceful one and manages to cheat death for his father. In African American tales, one slave generally recruits another to play God and make pronouncements from the top of a tree.
DE WOLF, DE RABBIT, AND DE TAR BABY
FROM FRANK LESLIE’S INTRODUCTION
The negroes of the South have a literature of their own although, till lately, unwritten and almost unknown. But their lyrics are now becoming famous through the Fisk Jubilee and Hampton Singers. Besides these, there are a great number of fireside legends that have been to them what Cinderella and Red Riding Hood are to us. These are almost all of animals. The negroes, even in common conversation, speak of animals as if they thought, talked, and behaved among themselves like rational beings; and the two animals most prominent in these legends are the wolf and the rabbit. They are represented as enemies, and the rabbit always comes off victorious, through his superior strategy. The following is, I believe, the most powerful of these fireside stories. But to appreciate it, you should see the old grandmother in her blue-checked, home-spun dress, and high red-and-yellow turban, with five or six little wooly heads clustering about her knee before a blazing fire, waiting for the sweet potatoes roasting in the ashes for their supper, and amusing themselves meanwhile with the story of “De Wolf, De Rabbit, and De Tar Baby.”
Now de Wolf ’e bery wise man, but ’e not so wise as de Rabbit. De Rabbit, ’e mos’ cunnin’ man dat go on fo’ leg.1 ’E lib in de brier bush.
Now de Wolf ’e done plant corn one ’ear, but Rabbit, ’e ain’t plant nuthin ’tall; ’e lib on Wolf corn all winter. Nex’ ’ear, Wolf ain’t plant corn, ’e tink corn crop too poor; so ’e plant groun’ nut.2 Rabbit ’e do jus’ de same as befo’.
Well, Wolf ’e biggin for tink something wrong. ’E gone out in de mawnin’, look at ’e groun’ nut patch, look bery hard at Rabbit track, say, “I s’picion somebody ben a tief3 my groun’ nut.”
Nex’ mawnin’, ’e ’gain meet mo’ groun’ nut gone, say same ting. Den ’e say, “I gwine mek one skeer crow for set up in dis yere groun’ nut patch for skeer de tief.”
So ’e mek one ole skeer crow, an’ set um in de middle ob de groun’ nut patch.
Dat night, when Rabbit come wid ’e bag for get groun’ nut, ’e see de skeer crow stan’ bery white in de moonshine, an’ ’e say “Wha’ dat?”
Nobody ain’t say anyting.
“Wha dat?” ’e say ’gain. Den nobody ain’t say nuthin’ an’ ’e ain’t see nuthin moobe,4 so ’e gone leetle closer, an’ leetle closer, till ’e git closer ter um, den ’e put out ’e paw an’ touch de skeer crow. Den ’e say: “You ain’t nuthin’ but one old bundle o’ rag! Wolf tink I gwine ’fraid you? Mus’ be fool.”
So ’e kick ober de skeer crow an’ fill ’e bag wid groun’ nut an’ gone back home to de brier bush.
Nex’ mawnin’, Wolf gone out for look at ’e groun’ nut patch, an’ when ’e meet mo’ groun’ nut gone and de skeer crow knock down, ’e bery mad. ’E say: “Nebber you min’. I fix ole Rabbit dat done tief all my groun’ nut; jus’ let me show you.”
So ’e mek one baby out o’ tar an’ set up in ’e groun’ nut patch, an’ say, “Jus’ let ole Rabbit try for knock over dis yere Tar Baby, an’ ’e’ll see! I jus’ want um for to try.” Dat night, when Rabbit come ’gain wid ’e bag for get groun’ nut an’ see de Tar Baby stan’ bery black in de moonshine, ’e say “Wha’ dat ole Wolf done gone set up nodder skeer crow, mus’ be.”
So ’e moobe leetle nearer, an’ leetle nearer, den ’e stop an’ say, “Dis yere enty no skeer crow,5 dis yere mus’ be one gal! I mus’ study ’pon dis.”
So ’e tun roun’ an’ spread out ’e bag an’ sit down in de middle ob de groun’ nut patch an’ look hard at de Tar Baby. Bimeby6 ’e say, “Gal, what you name?”
Gal ain’t say anyting.
“Gal, why don’t you speak me? What you do dere?”
Den ’e listen long time, ain’t hear anyting, ’cept whippoorwill in ’e swamp. So ’e gone close up ter um, an’ say: “Gal, you speak me, you min’! Gal, if you ain’t speak me, I knock you! I knock you wid my right paw; den you tink it tunder and lighten too!”7
Tar Baby ain’t say nuttin’, so ’e knock um wid ’e right paw, an’ ’e paw stick! Den ’e biggin for ho’ler: “Gal, le’ go me; I tell you le’ go me; wha’ for you hole me?8 If you don’t le’ go me, I knock you wid my lef’ paw; den you tink it tunder and lighten too!”
So ’e kick um wid ’e right foot, an ’e foot stick! Den ’e say: “Now, gal, if you ain’t lef me loose I tell you. If you don’t I kick you wid my right foot, den you tink colt kick you.”
So ’e kick um wid ’e right foot, an’ ’e foot stick! Den ’e say: “Now, gal, if you ain’t lef me loose mighty quick I kick you wid my lef’ foot; den you tink hoss kick you.”
So ’e kick um wid ’e lef’ foot, an’ ’e lef’ foot stick! Den ’e say: “Min’ now, gal, I ain’t do nuttin’ to you, wha’ for you hole me? Mebbe you tink I can’t do nuttin’ to you; ain’t you know I can bite you, though? If you ain’t lef’ me loose, I gwine bite you. Ain’t you know my bite worse than snake bite?”
So ’e bite um’ an’ ’e nose stick!
Nex’ mawnin’, ’fore sun-up, Wolf gone out to ’e groun’ nut patch, for see what ’e kin fin’, an’ ’e meet poo’ Rabbit wid ’e paw an’ ’e feet an’ ’e nose all farsten on Tar Baby, an’ ’e say, “Enty I tole you so? Look a yawnder! I reckon Tar Baby done catch ole Rabbit dis time.”
So ’e tuk Rabbit off an’ say: “You done tief half my groun’ nut, now what I gwine do wid you?”
Den Rabbit biggin for beg,9 “Oh Maussa Wolf, do le’ me go an’ I nebber tief groun’-nut no mo’.” Wolf say, “No Brudder Rabbit, you ben a tief my corn, las’ ’ear, an’ you ben a tief my groun’-nut, dis ’ear, an’ now I gwine eat you up.”
Den Rabbit say, “Oh Maussa Wolf, don’t do me so, but le’ me beg you. You ma’ roas’ me, you ma’ toas’ me, you ma’ cut me up, you ma’ eat me, but do Maussa Wolf, whatebber you do, don’t trow me in de brier bush. Ef you trow me in de brier bush I gwine dead!”
So Wolf say, “You ain’t want me for trow you in de brier bush, enty? dat jus’ what I gwine do wid yaw.” So ’e fling um in de bramble bush, an’ den Rabbit laugh an’ say “Hi! Maussa Wolf, ain’t you know I lib in de brier bush? ain’t yaw know all my fambly barn an’ bred in de brier bush? dis jus whar I want you for put me. How you is gwine get me ’gain?”
Den Wolf bery mad ’cause see Rabbit too wise man for him. ’E gone home an’ tell ’e wife, “No rabbit-soup for dinner, today,” an’ dey biggin for contribe,10 an’ dey mek plan for get Rabbit for come to deir house. So one day, Wolf wife call Neighbor Dog an’ tell um, “Neighbor Dog, I want you for do one erran’ for me. I want you for git on you hoss an’ ride fars’ as you kin to Rabbit doo’ an’ tell Brudder Rabbit, Wolf dead, an’ ’fo’ ’e die he leabe solum word ’e don’ want nobody else for lay um out but Brudder Rabbit. An’ do,
Neighbor Dog, beg um for come ober quick as ’e kin so we all kin hab de funeral, for Wolf say ’e won’t hab nobordy for lay um out but Brudder Rabbit.”
Rabbit say, “How, Brudder Wolf dead?” “Yes, ’e die las’ night an’ ’e say ’e ain’t want nobordy else for lay um out, an’ Sister Wolf beg you for come ober an’ lay um out quick as you kin so dey all kin hab de settin’ up.”
So Rabbit git on ’e hoss an’ ride to Wolf doo’; den ’e knock an’ say, “How? I yeardy Brudder Wolf dead.” Wolf wife say, “Yes, ’e dead for true, an’ ’fo’ ’e dies ’e leabe solum word ’e ain’t want nobordy else for lay um out but Brudder Rabbit.”
Den Rabbit say, “Kin I shum?”11 So Wolf wife tuk um in de bedroom an’ show um Wolf lie on de bed cober up wid a sheet. Rabbit lif up de corner ob de sheet an’ peep at Wolf.
Wolf nebber wink! So Rabbit took out ’e snuffbox an’ drop one leetle grain of snuff on Wolf nose, an’ Wolf sneeze!
Den Rabbit say: “Hi! How can dead man sneeze?” So ’e git on ’e hoss an’ ride home fars’ as ’e kin. An’ Wolf see Rabbit too wise man for him, an’ nebber try for cotch um no mo’.
SOURCE: The Daily Republican (Springfield, MA), June 2, 1874. Told in Beaufort, South Carolina.
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1 dat go on fo’ leg: that walks on four legs
2 groun’ nut: peanuts
3 a tief: stealing
4 moobe: move
5 enty no skeer crow: ain’t no scarecrow
6 Bimeby: by and by
7 You tink it tunder and lighten too: You’ll believe that it’s thundering and there’s lightning too
8 wha’ for you hole me?: why are you holding me?
9 biggin for beg: began to plead
10 biggin for contribe: began to plot
11 shum: see him
THE STORY OF BUH RABBIT AND THE TAR BABY
FROM WILLIAM OWENS’S PREFATORY REMARKS
Of the Buh fables, that which is by all odds the greatest favorite, and which appears in the greatest variety of forms is the “Story of Buh Rabbit and the Tar Baby.” Each variation preserves the great landmarks, particularly the closing scene. According to the most thoroughly African version, it runs thus: Buh Rabbit and Buh Wolf are neighbors. In a conversation one day Buh Wolf proposes that the two shall dig a well for their joint benefit, instead of depending upon chance rainfalls or going to distant pools or branches, as they often have to do, to quench their thirst. To this Buh Rabbit, who has no fondness for labor, though willing enough to enjoy its fruits, offers various objections, and finally gives a flat refusal.
“Well,” says Buh Wolf, who perfectly understands his neighbor, “if you no help to dig well, you mustn’t use de water.”
“What for I gwine use de water?” responds Buh Rabbit with affected disdain.
“What use I got for well? In de mornin’ I drink de dew, an’ in middle o’ day I drink from de cow-tracks.”
The well is dug by Buh Wolf alone, who after a while perceives that some one besides himself draws from it. He watches, and soon identifies the intruder as Buh Rabbit, who makes his visits by night. “Ebery mornin’ he see Buh Rabbit tracks—ebery mornin’ Buh Rabbit tracks.” Indignant at the intrusion, he resolves to set a trap for his thievish neighbor and to put him to death. Knowing Buh Rabbit’s buckish love for the ladies, he fits up a tar baby, made to look like a beautiful girl, and sets it near the well. By what magical process this manufacture of an attractive-looking young lady out of treacherous adhesive tar is accomplished we are not informed. But listeners to stories must not be inquisitive about the mysterious parts: they must be content to hear.
Buh Rabbit, emboldened by long impunity, goes to the well as usual after dark, sees this beautiful creature standing there motionless, peeps at it time and again suspiciously; but being satisfied that it is really a young lady, he makes a polite bow and addresses her in gallant language. The young lady makes no reply. This encourages him to ask if he may not come to take a kiss. Still no reply. He sets his water-bucket on the ground, marches up boldly and obtains the kiss, but finds to his surprise that he cannot get away: his lips are held fast by the tar. He struggles and tries to persuade her to let him go. How he is able to speak with his lips sticking fast is another unexplained mystery; but no matter: he does speak, and most eloquently, yet in vain. He now changes his tone, and threatens her with a slap. Still no answer. He administers the slap, and his hand sticks fast. One after the other, both hands and both feet, as well as his mouth, are thus caught, and poor Buh Rabbit remains a prisoner until Buh Wolf comes the next morning to draw water.
“Eh! eh! Buh Rabbit, wah de matter?” exclaims Buh Wolf, affecting the greatest surprise at his neighbor’s woeful plight.
Buh Rabbit, who has as little regard for truth as for honesty, replies, attempting to throw all the blame upon the deceitful maiden by whom he has been entrapped, not even suspecting yet—so we are to infer—that she is made of tar instead of living flesh. He declares with all the earnestness of injured innocence that he was passing by, in the sweet, honest moonlight, in pursuit of his lawful business, when this girl hailed him, and decoyed him into giving her a kiss, and was now holding him in unlawful durance.
The listener ironically commiserates with his captive neighbor, and proposes to set him free; when suddenly noticing the water-bucket and the tracks by the well, he charges Buh Rabbit with his repeated robberies by night, and concludes by declaring his intention to put him to immediate death.
The case has now become pretty serious and Buh Rabbit is of course woefully troubled at the near approach of the great catastrophe: still, even in this dire extremity, his wits do not cease to cheer him with some hope of escape. Seeing that his captor is preparing to hang him—for the cord is already around his neck and he is being dragged toward an overhanging limb—he expresses the greatest joy by capering, dancing and clapping his hands—so much so that the other curiously inquires, “What for you so glad, Buh Rabbit?”
“Oh,” replies the sly hypocrite, “because you gwine hang me and trow me in the brier-bush.”
“What for I mustn’t trow you in de brier-bush?” inquires Mr. Simpleton Wolf.
“Oh,” prays Buh Rabbit with a doleful whimper, “please hang me; please trow me in de water or trow me in de fire, where I die at once. But don’t—oh don’t—trow me in de brier bush to tear my poor flesh from off my bones.”
“I gwine to do ’zactly wah you ax me not to do,” returns Wolf in savage tone. Then, going to a neighboring patch of thick, strong briers, he pitches Buh Rabbit headlong in the midst, and says, “Now let’s see de flesh come off de bones.”
No sooner, however, does the struggling and protesting Buh Rabbit find himself among the briers than he slides gently to the ground, and peeping at his would-be torturer, from a safe place behind the stems, he says, “Tankee, Buh Wolf—a tousand tankee—for bring me home! De brier-bush de berry place where I been born.”
SOURCE: William Owens, Lippincott’s Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, 750–51.
THE WONDERFUL TAR-BABY
“Didn’t the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy the next evening.
“He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s1 you born—Brer Fox did. One day atter Brer Rabbit fool ’im wid dat2 calamus root, Brer Fox went ter wuk3 en go ’im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime,4 en fix up a contrapshun w’at he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer5 Tar-Baby en he so ’er6 in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer to see what da news wuz gwine ter be.7 En he didn’t hatter wait long, nudder,8 kaze bimbeby9 here come Brer Rabbit pacin’ down de road—lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity—dez ez sassy10 ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come prancin’ long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz ’stonished. De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“ ‘Mawnin’!’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezzee—‘ni
ce wedder dis mawnin’,’ sezee.
“Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox he lay low.
“ ‘How duz yo’ sym’tums seem ter segashuate?’11 sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.
“Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’.
“ ‘How you come on, den? Is you deaf?’ sez Brer Rabbit sezee. ‘Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,’ sezee.
“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“ ‘You er stuck up, dat’s w’at you is,’ says Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en I’m gwine ter kyore you, dat’s w’at I’m a gwine ter do,’ sezee.
“Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummic, he did, but Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nothin’.
“ ‘I’m gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter ’spectubble folks ef hit’s de las’ ack,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. ‘Ef you don’t take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I’m gwine ter bus’ you wide open,’ sezee.
“Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“Brer Rabbit keep on axin’ ’im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin’ nothin’, twel present’y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his fis’, he did, en blip he tuck ’er side er de head. Right dar’s whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis’ stuck, en he can’t pull loose. De tar hilt ’im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.
“ ‘Ef you don’t lemme loose, I’ll knock you agin,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch ’er wipe wid de udder han’ en dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain’t sain’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox he lay low.
“ ‘Tu’n me loose, fo’ I kick de natchul stuffin’ outen you,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. She des hilt on, en de Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de same way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out12 dat ef de Tar-Baby don’t tu’n ’im loose he butt ’er cranksided. En den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa’ntered for’, lookin’ dez ez innercent ez wunner yo’13 mammy’s mockin’-birds.
The Annotated African American Folktales Page 27