When they arrived, the Queen was pale and still crying, the Drum was silent, and the birds no longer sang. When the eldest son said to the father, “Here are the Golden Birds you told us to bring to you,” the chief answered, “These are not the birds I asked for. Where is their song? Where is their cloth? And who is this woman?”
The eldest son replied, “She is my wife.”
“Where is my youngest son?” asked the chief.
When the brothers told the old man that his youngest son was dead, he was quite overcome and wept bitterly.
Meanwhile, when the little dog found that his master would not move, he licked his face and breathed into his nostrils. This succeeded in bringing life back into his body. Soon the man had recovered and he and the little dog followed the others into the father’s village.
As the two drew near to the great gathering at the chief’s hut, the Queen began, once more, to shine like the sun, the Magic Drum began to play, and the Golden Birds burst into song. The chief and his people were astonished. Then they saw the youngest son, whom they had been told was dead.
The ten brothers were afraid, for they knew that their father would now hear the truth. “He’ll kill us,” they whispered to each other.
The youngest son greeted his father warmly and gave him the many treasures that he had brought with him. Then he asked for all the people to be gathered together to hear his tale. He told them everything, from the beginning to the end and, when he had finished, the old chief was so angry that he sentenced his ten sons to death. After that, he called his youngest son to him and said, “My son, I have grown old while you were away, and it is my wish that you should take my place. You are now chief.”
Amid great splendour and celebrations, the young chief was proclaimed ruler by all the old chiefs’ subjects. His first act was to forgive his ten brothers, and to change their punishment to banishment from his kingdom for life. From that day until his death the Golden Birds supplied all the clothes they needed and delighted all around them with their song; the Magic Drum played; and the beautiful Golden Queen shone with love for him. With his dearly loved Queen, the youngest son lived a long and happy life, famed for his goodness, and ruling wisely and well until the end of his days.
“LOOK N’GAI, NO FISHES!”
KIKUYU
The Kikuyu People believe that in the days of long, long ago, when the Good Lord N’gai made his plans for all the creatures upon his earth, he made the hippopotamus as an animal of the forests and plains. But the hippopotamus was greedy and, finding plenty of food all round him and no enemies to worry about, he grew fatter, and fatter and fatter. And the fatter he grew, the more he suffered from the heat of the Equatorial midday sun.
Day after day, when he waddled down to the river for his drink, he gazed with envy at the little fishes that swam in the pool which was cooled by the melted snows from far-away Mount Kenya. “Oh!” he would sigh, “how wonderful it would be if I could live, like N’gai’s little fishes, in the clear, cool, refreshing water!”
The hippopotamus pondered over his trouble for many days, and eventually decided to approach The Lord of All Creation. “Please, Good Lord N’gai,” he cried loudly to the heavens upon one particularly hot day, “allow me to leave the forests and the plains. Let me live instead in the clear, cool waters of your rivers and lakes, for the heat of the fiery sun is killing me!”
“No,” replied Lord N’gai, “for my little fishes are very dear to me, and if you were to live in the rivers and lakes, you might try a change of your eating habits, and begin to eat those little fishes. That would never do. No, you must continue to live upon the dry land.”
So the hippopotamus stayed sadly in his home in the forests and plains, where the sun continued to beat down mercilessly on his unprotected hide. “This is more than I can bear!” moaned the poor creature. “Please, please, Good Lord N’gai, let me leave the forests and plains, and become a creature of the rivers and lakes. I promise most faithfully that I will not eat your little fishes.”
The Great Lord N’gai thought the matter over, while he looked down upon the plains baking in the heat of the tropical sun, and eventually his heart softened. “Very well,” he agreed, “I will allow you to live in my rivers and lakes, but how will you prove to me that you are not eating my little fishes?”
“I will lie in the cool of the water by day, and at night time I will browse along the banks of the rivers, and in the vleis,” replied the hippopotamus. “I promise that I will not eat your little fishes.”
“But that will not be proof to me that you are keeping your promise!” pointed out The Great Lord N’gai.
“Well then,” answered the hippopotamus, “I will come out of the water every time that food passes through my body, and I will scatter my dung on the earth with my tail. All that I have eaten will be spread out in your sight, and you will see for yourself that there are no fish bones. Surely this will be proof enough!”
So this is way, to this very day, the hippopotamus comes out of the water to scatter its dung as it looks up to heaven and says, “Look N’gai, no fishes!”
Narrator: Gwido Mariko
THE WIZARD’S BRIDE
KIKUYU
In the days of long ago, when wizards practised magic and evil doings upon the earth, there lived a very handsome man. So dazzlingly handsome was he, in fact, that every maiden who set eyes upon him, fell hopelessly in love. True, word went around the countryside of lovely girls who mysteriously disappeared; but as there was talk of ugly cannibals and ogres who roamed the country, no one suspected this kind young man of kidnapping them.
Our tale begins upon a sunny spring morning when Wiweru, the lovely daughter of a Kikuyu chief, washed her cooking pots in the river that flowed not far from her father’s home and, as she looked up, saw a handsome stranger watching her. “Lovely One,” he sighed, with a smile and a flash of flawless teeth that captured her heart, “your hands are too beautiful to be spoilt with the work of a common slave. With such dignity and loveliness you should have those who wait upon you.”
Wiweru was a strong-willed girl, who had so far refused to marry anyone of the many men her father had chosen for her. The old chief was so fond of his beautiful daughter that he let her have her own way. But Wiweru had never set eyes upon anyone so handsome or so captivating as the young man who now gazed at her across the water. She immediately fell deeply in love with him.
However, the girl was clever as well as beautiful, so rather than show her feelings to the stranger at this early stage, she replied haughtily, “Bold stranger, you speak to the daughter of this country’s noble chief! Many have sought my hand, and none has won me. I would advise you to go and sow your compliments upon more fertile ground,” and, taking up her pots, she turned her back upon the man and hastened home.
As time went on, Wiweru thought more and more about the bold, good-looking stranger and, for many days she lingered at the riverside, hoping that he would pass that way again.
The wizard, (for so he was), could afford to wait as he knew that he had already bewitched her by his magic arts. He continued to watch her secretly from his hiding-place among the reeds and rushes across the pool, and each time he saw her, his power over her increased. “Even without the spell that I have cast upon her, she could not resist my charms!” he chuckled to himself, until at last he revealed himself.
“The days have been empty since I last saw you, Lovely One,” he murmured. “Tell me, what makes you again come unattended to this lonely place? You should have a husband who would see that you are guarded from the dangers that threaten lovely maidens such as you. I wish I could take this pleasant duty upon myself,” he sighed.
This time Wiweru was kinder to the handsome stranger, and they began to meet each day at the water’s edge until he agreed to ask her father’s permission to marry her. “No, my daughter,” said the old chief when they had talked, “I will not give my consent to such a marriage, for in my heart I know that this man’s h
andsome face is a mask which hides a wicked heart.”
Wiweru was angry and frustrated at her father’s stern refusal, but as she was under the magician’s spell, she was unable to resist him. She continued to meet her lover by the riverside until, finally, she agreed to run away with him. Far, far through the forest and over the plains, he took her – away to the North and there, at his home, made her his queen.
“Who could be more gentle and considerate than my lord?” she asked herself, after several weeks of married life. “I have only to wish for something and it is here. Life is indeed all that he promised me.” She had many slaves to wait upon her, and life was pleasant. There was plenty of her favourite food, and each day her lover stroked her arms as he watched her satiny skin take on a richer bloom.
“My beloved Queen,” he said to her one day, playfully pinching her plump arm, “our happiness must be celebrated by a feast for all my friends. There are many whom I would like you to meet. Tomorrow I will go hunting in the forest for meat for our banquet. You must remain at home and attend to the brewing of the beer. Be sure that your maidens prepare our largest cooking pot, and tell them to gather plenty of firewood ready for my return. This must be an occasion that all my friends remember!”
Off went the wicked wizard and visited all his cannibal friends, inviting them all to a mighty feast of human flesh – the main course of which, he told them, would be provided by his lovely bride. “I can promise you,” he assured them one by one, “that she will be the most tender and toothsome morsel that you have ever tasted!”
It was lucky for Wiweru that a humble herd-boy was guarding his father’s cattle in a field near where one of the guests lived. As the boy rested beneath the shade of a tree, he heard two men excitedly discussing their invitation. “Yes,” said one of them, “the husband tells me that she has been fattened since she ran away with him, and he has left her at home to prepare the very pot in which she will be cooked. What an amusing situation!” and the two laughed cruelly at the wizard’s trickery.
“This must be some evil plan,” said the tender-hearted herd-boy to himself “I shall go and warn her!” and, calling a younger brother to care for his father’s beasts, the herd-boy hastened to the wizard’s home.
Here, he found everyone busy. Wiweru had seen to the brewing of a large supply of luscious beer, and there was wood piled high ready to cook the meat when it arrived. She was most excited as the party drew nearer. All was ready, except the main course – and that, her husband had assured her, he would bring from the forest with him, and he had never failed her yet. “He will have to hurry,” she said to her servants, “for I can see some of the guests in sight.” She pointed to some figures in the distance.
“Now,” said the herd-boy to himself, “it’s time I told her of the conversation I heard!” and he hurried forward to whisper in her ear.
At first Wiweru refused to believe the tale he told her but, after watching the sly way her many woman servants were glancing at her, the girl became suspicious. Then, as she saw her own over-plump arms and bulging body, the whole of her wicked husband’s plot became clear to her.
“Surely the good Lord will have pity upon me!” cried the terrified bride, wringing her hands in dismay. And, sure enough, her cries for help were heard by The Great One for, at that very moment, a magic sleigh, drawn by two snow-white oxen, came gliding over the treetops, to stop at their feet.
The woman attendants screamed with rage as they rushed forward to catch Wiweru. Fortunately, their pursuers were too late, for the girl and boy flung themselves on to the magic sleigh in time to escape the angry women’s hands. As the sleigh flew high over the treetops, the two of them looked down to see far, far beneath them, the wizard leading a party of guests to his home.
Very quickly, quarrels and arguments broke out. “My friend,” grumbled the most important guest as he gazed into the empty cooking pot, “you invited us to a feast of human flesh, and all we find is an empty pot. Where is the feast?”
“Listen to me!” the unhappy wizard cried, “I do assure you that I am speaking the truth. Some magic has taken her away!”
“It’s no concern of ours whether or not you speak the truth,” argued his guests angrily. “We came, at your invitation, to eat human flesh, and we will not leave until we have had it!” Immediately they seized the protesting wizard and threw him into the big cooking pot where it boiled upon the fire and, although he proved to be a great deal tougher than his lovely bride would have been, his cannibal friends enjoyed their feast.
Meanwhile, the magic sleigh carried Wiweru and the herd-boy away over the treetops. There was great rejoicing and excitement as the girl and boy came down through the air right at the door of the old chief’s hut, and he saw his beloved long-lost daughter jump from the magic sleigh and run to greet him. So delighted was he at her safe return that, after hearing of her narrow escape, the old man readily forgave Wiweru for her disobedience, for he had thought she was dead.
The brave, quick-thinking herd-boy was widely praised and, as a reward for defeating the wicked wizard’s plan he was put in charge of the old chief’s vast herd of cattle. Eventually he grew in importance to such an extent that he became the chief’s Head Councillor, and married into the Royal Household. But he never did marry Wiweru.
Narrator: Gwido Mariko
KIMWAKI AND THE WEAVER BIRDS
KIKUYU
As an old Kikuyu man lay dying, he sent for his only son Kimwaki. “My son,” he said, “I have lived my life, and the time has come for me to join my ancestors. In all these years I have not been idle. My fields are the fairest in the land, my cows are fat and healthy, and my goats are many. All these now belong to you. Carry me out and let me lie under the stars, for it is time for me to die.”
So he died, and when the burial ceremonies had taken place, Kimwaki looked around him, and counted his wealth. He found that he was even richer than he had hoped, and he was young enough to enjoy it. No need for him to work anymore – and no one to nag him either. Life was very good, and he settled down to enjoy it as lazily as he could.
Day after day he lay dreaming in the sunshine or, when the sun became too hot for comfort, in the shade of a big tree that grew beside his hut. His fine fields became overgrown with weeds and grass. His sleek and glossy cattle became hollow-eyed and thin for no one drove them to the pastures. The little goats bleated in distress, not knowing where to go.
But Kimwaki did not care, for, with the great stores of food that had been provided by his father’s work and wisdom, he felt he could well afford to sit back and rest. No fear of hunger could touch him.
In a land where it is the rule for each neighbour to help the other, this idle young man helped nobody, so nobody lifted one finger to help him. In this way, all that he had inherited went from bad to worse; no one cared, and he was avoided by all around him.
For many months Kimwaki led this useless life, until the loneliness bored him. Then, one day in the early spring, as he lay drowsing as usual under his tree, he heard excited twitterings from above. He opened his eyes in annoyance, to see what had disturbed his pleasant sleep and there, up in the tree, was a flock of little weaver birds. They were darting hither and thither, as busy as could be, for it was nesting time.
Spring was in the air, and the males were building homes for their young families when they hatched. Their excited chattering caused him to open his eyes a little wider. He watched as they worked together, until he understood their joy.
Singing and laughing, each bird made his contribution to the weaver colony. One would bring a tiny piece of grass, another a little twig, while yet another added a feather to his nest. They worked as though their very lives depended upon their haste and, when evening came, the frames of the little nests were finished.
On the following day the work continued: the birds’ clever, tiny beaks wove the grasses in and out, lining the nests with softest down. Kimwaki watched it all, as he lay beneath the big tree. Thunder clo
uds were gathering in the sky, and when the second evening came, Kimwaki thought how wise the little birds were to provide shelter for their babies from the coming rain.
Every day now, he watched the feathered workers, until in a short while a whole colony of finished nests hung from the branches of his tree. And, during all this time, the lesson of their co-operation and their hard work had been sinking deeper and deeper into his mind.
Finally Kimwaki said to himself, as he listened to their cheerful chatter, “I am a strong young man, while they are only tiny birds. I have two big hands with which to work, while each of them has only a little beak. They are safe and sheltered, which I am not. They are the wise ones, and I am not!”
He thought the matter over during the night, and next morning he rose early, took his rusty hoe with him, and went to the field belonging to his nearest neighbour. There he began to dig and clear the weeds and grass away and, when this was done, he hoed the ground. All day long he worked beside the others had who joined him and, when evening came, he found himself singing as he retraced his steps to his broken-down hut. He felt as happy and lighthearted as the little weaver birds!
Day after day he went, first to the field of one neighbour, and then to another, helping where he could, and asking nothing in return. Then one morning, he awoke to hear cheerful chattering and laughter upon his own untidy, overgrown fields. He looked out and saw that his neighbours were as busy as could be, clearing and hoeing his weed-covered lands. He joined them at once, and soon the plot was ready for planting. And, later on, when the rains came, the same neighbours helped him to plant his crops and to re-thatch his leaking hut.
The months went by, and as the crops grew – mealies, beans and potatoes, so grew also his own pride. He no longer lazed away the days under the big tree, but continued to help those around him, and looked after his neglected flocks. Joyfully he watched the glow of health creep back to the dull coats of his cows and goats.
The Best of African Folklore Page 6