Many times the woman questioned her husband how it happened that their mealie patch was not ploughed or weeded and he no longer hunted in the forest, yet she always found plenty of food in her cooking pots? But each time she asked him, he refused to explain.
At last, as so often happens when life becomes too easy, Wanjohi grew careless of what he said, boasting to all about his wealth, so that the woman grew increasingly suspicious. “Husband,” she said in exasperation, “you never seem surprised at our wealth. You must be hiding something from me. Maybe at night-time while I sleep, you steal the good things that I find cooking upon the fire. I think you are friends with the Evil One, for who else can bring sparkling water bubbling from the parched earth, when all else is dry? I shall ask the witch-doctor to smell out this evil.”
Now, the very mention of a witch-doctor smelling out evil struck terror into the heart of her simple husband, who had no wish for things he did not understand. “Wife,” begged Wanjohi, “do not do so. For he is sure to discover the magic feathers that provide us with all these good things. You could even lose your husband who has brought you such a comfortable life, for the witch-doctor might kill me to obtain the magic of my golden feathers for himself.”
Too late he remembered the bird’s warning. Not only had he now shared his secret with his wife, but he had also boasted to others of his riches. Wanjohi had little hope when he held the feathers and wished his daily wishes next day, and his worst fears came true as he found that nothing happened. Even the bubbling spring was now only drying mud.
Once more the couple knew what it was to go hungry, and Wanjohi went back to setting traps along the game-paths in the forest as he used to do. Life was even harder than before, for drought now made food still more difficult to find. However, one day while visiting his traps as usual, he met a neighbour with his dog. “Let us hunt together,” said Wanjohi, pleased to have company. To his great surprise they found the same golden bird, caught in one of his particularly well-hidden snares.
Wanjohi rushed towards it exclaiming, “Once more you are in my power golden bird! I have caught you once again! Give me two more of your magic feathers, and I will let you go.”
“Spare me this second time, good human!” begged the bird, as he at once untied the noose that held it. But no sooner had he set the poor creature free, than his neighbour’s dog pounced on it. Dragging the animal away with difficulty, Wanjohi hastily picked up the bird and ran to the edge of the forest to release it, without waiting for any gift of feathers.
“Once more, human, I thank you,” said the bird gratefully. “If you had not helped, the dog would have killed me. When we first met I made you a gift of my magic feathers because you spared my life although you and your wife were hungry. You broke the condition I made, but that is no concern of mine. You suffered for not listening to my warning, and maybe you have learned your lesson.
“This time I will give you all that is in my power to give, and I make no condition with my gift. The magic in these feathers will last for ever, for you have not only spared my life – you have saved it.” Plucking two more feathers, one from each wing, the bird gave them to Wanjohi. Then, spreading its golden wings, it rose up into the heavens and was gone.
It was a very happy man who returned to his wife that day – happy at his repeated good fortune, grateful to the golden bird, and wiser for knowing that kindness to one in trouble can bring its own reward.
“COOK, EAT AND CARRY ME”
KIKUYU
A man once lived with his wife and two young daughters. The elder daughter was good, kind and beautiful, and everyone loved her. The younger daughter, however, was just the opposite, besides which, she was always jealous of her elder sister.
One afternoon the mother sent Gethui, the elder daughter, to fetch water from the river. Down the path sped Gethui, with the big water gourd slung upon her back. She sang happily as she went, for there was laughter in the air, and life was good.
She reached the river and, bending over the water, dipped the gourd into its sparkling clearness. She was about to draw it up again, when some unseen power pulled it downwards. Now, although Gethui was frightened of the underwater world, she was even more frightened of her father’s anger, for he was a cruel man. And, as she dared not return without his precious gourd, she held onto it with all her strength.
Slowly, but relentlessly, she was dragged down to the bottom of the crystal-clear pool. There, the same unseen force pulled both the gourd and herself into a large cave in the side of the bank. To her great surprise Gethui saw a pot of food cooking merrily in the shadows, and heard a strange-sounding voice from inside it saying, “Cook, eat and carry me!”
The food looked so tempting, and smelt so good, that Gethui remembered it was a long while since she had eaten. So, without waiting for a second invitation, she sat down and began to eat. “What tasty mealies!” she thought, and then looked around, hoping to thank the owner of the food. Seeing no one, she lifted the pot to her shoulder and was about to go back to the pool, when a voice from another pot, which was also cooking merrily by itself, called out, “Cook, eat and carry me!”
The smell that wafted to her nostrils was even more tempting than that of the first pot, so she lost no time in sitting down to taste this one as well. “I must not insult the one who offers me such fine food by refusing to eat it,” she said to herself “Truly, these are the most delicious yams that I have ever tasted. A thousand blessings upon the giver!”
When she had eaten well from the second pot, she was about to lift it, too, onto her shoulder, when she saw an old man beckoning to her – and beside him were two clay pots. Gethui approached him hastily, prepared to thank him for the delicious meal that surely he must have provided, when he spoke to her. “My child,” he said, “I have yet another gift for you to take back to the upper world with you, for I see by your modesty and good manners that you deserve it. Take your choice of these two pots, and my blessing upon your choice.”
Gethui was so overcome by all the good fortune that had already come her way, and she did not wish to appear greedy. She chose the small, uninteresting-looking pot and, thanking the old man, she returned through the water to the dry land above.
Then she gazed with wonder at the contents of the clay pot she had chosen, and her eyes opened wide in astonishment as she drew from it an unending supply of beaded ornaments, bangles, clothes, and all the lovely things that she had only dreamed of in the past. She felt rich beyond her wildest dreams!
But what would her father say, she wondered, when he saw all her new possessions? Would he believe her when she told him where they had come from? He would probably say that she had stolen them. They had better be hidden.
She waited until darkness came and then she upset her water pot on the fire in the hut, so that it was all dark inside. “What’s made you so clumsy?” her mother scolded; hurrying out of the hut to find some dry wood.
Then, while her mother was busy relighting the fire, Gethui smuggled in her hoard of treasures and hid them in the thatch among the rafters, while she assured her parents that the pots of food were a gift from the “Old Man of the River”, and they finally allowed her to keep them.
However, Gethui’s pretty treasures were eventually found, and when, in spite of many punishments she still insisted that the Old Man of the River had given them to her, they believed her.
This was enough to make the younger daughter decide that she, too, would visit the underwater world. “I will claim hospitality from the Old Man of the River,” she said to herself, “and beg for pretty ornaments. Why should my elder sister have all the good things in life, as well as being so pretty?” So she took the water gourd as Gethui had done and went to the same pool on the following morning.
She threw the gourd into the water and, without waiting to see what happened, scrambled in after it. Looking around for the cave that Gethui had described, she saw the pot bubbling and cooking by itself. “Ah!” smiled the younger sis
ter, “now I shall have my fill.” Not waiting for an invitation, she sat down and ate until she had finished all the food inside it.
Rising from her feast, the greedy child saw the second pot, also cooking merrily. “This, too, must be meant for me!” she chuckled to herself, as she sat down beside it and began her second meal. Then, when her stomach was full, she looked around for the old man.
“There he is – the one who gave Gethui all her lovely gifts,” she thought, as she saw him sitting by two clay pots in the distance. “Old man!” she shouted, rushing towards him, “what gifts have you got for me?”
“My child,” replied the old man as the girl reached his side, “you have no modesty and no manners, but in spite of this, I will still offer you the choice of two gifts. Take the one that pleases you most, though you might be well advised to choose the smaller and my blessing with it.”
However, the greedy girl was not in the mood for advice. “I will take the big one,” she said rudely, “for it must hold more gifts and better ones than the smaller one.” So, without a word of gratitude to the old man, the girl grabbed the larger of the two clay pots and, with her two empty food pots clutched to her as well, was soon back on the river bank. Here she lost no time in thrusting her hand inside the pot to see what she had been given.
But the pot that had looked the best from the outside, was the worst one inside, for it contained the germs of a swelling disease. Bigger she had wanted, so bigger she became. The infection at once attacked the girl’s right hand and spread quickly up her arm. Soon it had reached her body, which swelled to an enormous size.
With screams of fear she ran to her parents’ home, but when they saw her coming they cried out, “There’s something dreadful coming! A monster! Run away, the land is cursed!” Without recognising their younger daughter, or waiting to gather up their belongings, the father, mother and Gethui fled in terror, leaving the greedy one alone with her troubles. And, as no one went back to find out, she may be there still.
KING LION AND KING EAGLE
XHOSA
One day a very long time ago, a young baboon was sitting under a tall spreading tree, scratching himself and thinking of nothing in particular.
Presently he became aware of voices drifting down from the topmost branches. He was a meddlesome creature, always ready to pry into other people’s business, so he pricked up his ears and craned his neck until he caught sight of the speakers. Their conversation interested him, for they were talking about his lord, the King of Beasts.
He peered upwards and could just see a gaunt, bare-necked vulture talking to King Eagle. “Lord of all Feathered Things,” said the vulture, bending his scraggy neck in respect, “no one on earth or in the sky can compare with you. Why do you allow another to say he is a king? Oh, your Feathered Mightiness, no one should dare to challenge your right to rule all things that breathe. Yet that upstart of a lion down below roars boldly that he is king of all!”
King Eagle nodded his head in agreement. “My good Chief Councillor, no one is better fitted to rule than I for, from the heights of the sky, I can safeguard my people from any danger that threatens them. My might is in the strength of my tireless wings. Who can soar to greater heights than I, or see as far?”
“True, oh King,” replied the vulture, “whereas the foolish lion, from his humble position on the ground, can scarcely see beyond his nose. Many is the time his four-footed subjects have been killed by hunters, and never a word of warning has he been able to give them. Trouble is upon them before he is aware of it. With you, my lord, every danger is seen from where you hover in the sky, and your feathered subjects are duly warned.” The eagle preened his feathers and then asked, “Is he, in your opinion, as handsome as I am?”
“Not in all the heavens, your Magnificence!” answered the vulture, wriggling his neck in his desire to please. “He is a drab-looking creature with all that long hair around his neck. While you, oh King!, your wings shine like a royal gown with golden medals, your noble head is crowned with feathers, and the shining black upon your well-groomed body glistens like the blades of spears!”
The eagle’s eyes shone with excitement at his councillor’s praise. “How right you are!” he broke in. “Why should I stand this lion’s cheek? I will declare war upon the fellow, and make him bow before me!”
This was too much for the baboon, who burst out laughing and shouted up, “What fools you are to think that a bird could ever rule over one as mighty as our lord, King Lion. Your councillor’s little head could never contain such wisdom as that of his chief councillor, the elephant. Do you usually crack jokes like this so early in the morning?”
The baboon was well known for his bad manners, but this was too much for the two birds. They flew away in disgust, back to the eagle’s home in the mountain crags, where the King of Birds at once sent word to his subjects to attend a meeting. Birds, insects – all flying things – came in flocks to hear his words, for he was a good ruler, and they were proud and willing to obey his commands.
“My people,” he began, “both great and small” (at the last word he nodded his head graciously towards the insects), “I want each and every one of you to join me in a war to end the foolish boastings of the lion. He tells all creatures that he alone is king. As master of both air and earth, am not I more fitted to be the king of all living things?”
“Hear, hear! You are, you are!” they cried with one voice and clamoured for the honour of fighting for their king – all, that is, except the bat. He had never been very keen on fighting; but since the bat is more animal than bird, the eagle decided to do without him.
In the meantime the baboon had found the lion and said to him, “Your Majesty, King of Beasts, listen I pray to your humble subject.” The lion inclined his head, surprised how polite the baboon could be when he wanted to. “While minding my own business as usual in the forest just now, I heard the eagle talking to that scavenging councillor of his, the vulture. He was boasting that he is the noblest king on earth, and said that you, my lord, were nothing as compared to him. He was most rude too about your looks, and was busy making plans to make you bow down to him in homage.”
“My hair and hide!” spluttered His Majesty in a fury. “We will be ready for him,” and immediately sent messengers to call his people and tell them to prepare for war.
Just as King Lion finished his speech, the bat flew in, very out of breath. “I bring you important news, Your Majesty,” he squeaked. “I have just come from a meeting of the winged creatures. They plan to attack you in great force tomorrow – so be prepared to defend your throne.”
“I am grateful for the warning that you so kindly bring,” said the lion, “but I have no further use for you. You have wings, and you might easily fly back to the other creatures of the air with news of our intentions. No, there is no place for you amongst my troops.” Not wanted by either side, the bat hung himself upside down under a tree and burst into tears.
As the king surveyed his troops, the faint-hearted jackal felt uncomfortable as he realised that the lion’s gaze had fallen upon him. “My friend,” said the King of Beasts, “I know that you are clever but I also know that you are much too great a coward to fight. What part do you propose to take in the coming battle?”
“Your Majesty,” replied the jackal, “give me the honour to be your Flag Bearer! And since we have no flag to fly, allow my tail to take the place of one. I will stand upon a rock that overlooks the battle, and will hold my tail high as long as we are winning. I will only lower my tail if you are losing.”
“That is hardly likely, my good fellow,” the lion replied distrustfully. “But none of your tricks, please!”
Early the following morning a tremendous whirring of wings was heard. It was King Eagle, attacking with his airborne troops. All the creatures of the air were there – even the insects were taking part.
But King Lion had not been slow in assembling his forces. All creatures of the earth had come to fight beneath his b
anner: frogs, snakes, lizards – everyone was present. The whirring of wings was soon drowned as the animals went to war. Snakes hissed as they struck upwards with their poison fangs to meet the birds that flew above. Lions roared, elephants trumpeted, wild-cats screamed – the noise was deafening as the battle raged backwards and forwards.
The winged army was gaining the upper hand, because many of those who fought on the ground had lost their eyes as their enemies swooped down from above. The insects, too, went for their eyes and blinded them. Over and over again the animals charged, determined not to give in. All the time they were encouraged by the rigid tail of their Flag Bearer.
Now the bat was still hanging upside down in his tree and sobbing. He really felt he deserved to be treated better after he had flown so far to warn the King of the Beasts. So when a bee buzzed up to him and asked what he was doing, he was glad of a friendly ear and told her everything that had happened – including the bit about the jackal’s tail.
“Right!” hummed the bee. “Leave the rest to me. I’ll teach them not to spurn a friend who warned them in their time of need!” She flew back to the eagle.
“Your Majesty,” said the little bee to her feathered king, “I am going to put an end to this disgraceful fight, which has already lasted far too long. Allow me to show the animals that they are defeated.”
“Excellent!” replied King Eagle. “I admire brave insects like you.” So the bee flew straight to where the jackal stood on the highest point of a big rock and drove her sting securely into the softest part under the Flag Bearer’s bushy tail.
Down came the flag at once! The jackal, screaming with agony, clapped his tail between his hind legs and tore off into the forest, with his ears lying flat on the back of his head. Seeing the flag fall with such speed, King Lion and all his subjects believed that the battle was truly lost. They turned and ran for their lives.
The Best of African Folklore Page 8