The Best of African Folklore

by Phyllis Savory

  “That is easy,” he replied, striding into the water. In a moment he had it in his hand, and little Ncinci danced with pleasure as he brought it to her.

  But as she stretched up her hand to take it, the stranger caught her roughly and pushed her into his bag. Too terrified to scream, she realized that she had been captured by one of the dreaded cannibals who were always on the lookout for children who strayed alone.

  “Please, please, let me out,” she pleaded.

  “Oh, no,” he replied. “it is long since I found one as plump as you. At home there’s a fire ready crackling for my evening meal.” He slung her over his shoulder and left the river behind him as he climbed the hills.

  But Ncinci was heavy and he was hungry, so when he saw a long thin spiral of smoke climbing to the skies, he thought he would go that way and maybe beg a bite of food.

  Soon he reached a slanting rock where Mvemve and his friends were roasting the birds they had caught. Seeing there were only children there, he marched boldly up to them and said, “Good morning, little brothers. I have come from far away, and I haven’t eaten for a long time. Let me share your food and I in return will make my magic bag sing.”

  Now, every black child loves magic of any kind, so the boys shared their meal with the tall stranger, and when they had eaten, asked for their reward.

  He went up to the bag and prodded it with his finger saying, “Sing, bag, sing.”

  That made Ncinci call out, “I am Ncinci, I am Ncinci, and my brother is Mvemve, my brother is Mvemve.”

  “Yours is a wonderful magic,” said Mvemve, cleverly hiding his surprise at hearing his sister’s voice. “Magic like that is worth more than these few roast birds. If you will come with me to my mother’s home, she will give you a juicy steak from the ox she killed yesterday. I will run ahead and ask her to have food ready for you.” And he raced down the hillside to warn his mother about the cannibal. So, by the time the cannibal reached her hut, Maluzwane had made her plans. She greeted him with what seemed to be a warm welcome, suggested that he put his heavy bag in the shade of a nearby tree, and asked him to fetch some water in a can for her to cook his meal.

  As soon as he left for the river, Maluzwane quickly opened the bag, took Ncinci out and hid her in the goat pen. She then ran to a swarm of bees that hung from a nearby tree, popped the bag over them, shook them carefully inside, and tied it up once more.

  She quickly hung the bag from the rafters of her hut, and as soon as the smoke from the fire had made the bees stupid and drowsy, put it back under the tree.

  Now when the cannibal dipped the can which Maluzwane had given him into the river, he found that the bottom was full of holes. It took him some time to find the clay, and one by one he plastered up the holes.

  When at last he reached the cooking hut, all was ready for the feast, and having eaten his fill, he once more slung the bag over his shoulders and, bidding his hostess goodbye, continued on his way.

  “Wife,” he called out as he neared his home, “bring our largest cooking pot and plenty of firewood, while I prepare a feast. Come in and close the door,” he continued as his wife and child followed him into the hut.

  He put down the load at the entrance, and while he sharpened a wicked-looking knife, he told the child to carry the feast into the hut. But no sooner had the child touched the bag, then the bees stung him through the cloth, and with a cry of pain he dropped it, and refused to touch it again.

  “Very well,” said the cannibal, “I will feast alone. Get out, both of you!” and he chased both mother and child away. He locked the door and, with wicked, gloating eyes, he himself undid the string that fastened the bag.

  The bees were now awake and very angry. They flew straight to his head, and there they settled, and there they stung him as he tried wildly to unfasten the door.

  Eventually he got outside, and with screams of pain, raced off to a muddy pool. Into the sticky mud he plunged his burning head. And there he stuck, feet in the air. And there the mud choked and suffocated the wicked cannibal, while the mother and son laughed with glee!

  Narrator: Manalimeni Mkhize

  NABULELA

  KWAZULU

  Nabulela was a huge long-toothed monster who lived in a small lake not far from a village in KwaZulu. Everyone feared him, so to keep him in a good temper, the villagers used to make flat porridge cakes, and place them at the water’s edge at sunset for the great beast to eat. As they did so, they sang,

  “Nabulela, Nabulela, come out and eat me.

  Mahlevana the chief has said,

  ‘Come out and eat me.’ ”

  And then they would run away because Nabulela’s favourite food was human flesh, and no one wanted to be caught and eaten alive.

  But their chief, Mahlevana, had no thoughts of monsters. He had something else on his mind. For many years he had longed for a daughter, but his wives had borne him only sons. So when his favourite wife at long last presented him with a laughing, black-eyed girl, he was overjoyed. There was dancing and feasting in the royal kraal for many days, and all the countryside rejoiced.

  She was named Hlalose which means “little princess”, and as she grew from a baby to a girl, Mahlevana gave her all that her heart could desire. He dressed her with the gayest beads and she became the prettiest girl in all the land.

  As time passed, however, all Hlalose’s playmates became very jealous of her. Their love turned to hatred as they watched all the gifts she was given, though they were careful to hide this from both Hlalose and their chief.

  One day, when she was seven years old, the children from the royal kraal went to play at a nearby river, and, as they reached the river’s edge, they saw a tiny paw waving feebly from the water.

  Her little playmates laughed to see a paw foolishly waving in the air, but Hlalose waded quickly into the pool to investigate. There she found a tiny mongrel puppy with a stone tied round its neck, almost drowned. As fast as she could, she took it to the riverbank where she nursed it back to life. Then she carried it gently to her father’s hut.

  “What are you carrying, my child?” Mahlevana asked, as his daughter carefully laid the puppy down.

  “One of your people wanted to drown this little creature,” she answered, “but I saved it. Now its life is part of mine.”

  She called the puppy Mpempe, and as time passed they loved each other more and more. They were never apart, and Mahlevana knew that no harm would come to Hlalose with Mpempe close at hand.

  The years passed, and Hlalose grew into a beautiful happy maiden and Mpempe into an old and feeble dog – too old to follow his beloved mistress daily to fetch the water from the spring. So she used to leave him tied to her father’s hut.

  It happened one day, that all the girls were sent with earthen pots on their heads to the clay pits, to fetch the red ochre to smear on their faces for the tribal dance. Mpempe wanted to follow, but the pits were far away, so Hlalose tied him as usual to the hut and, singing the Clay Pot Song, she joined the laughing throng. When they reached the clay pits, the girls gaily reached down and pulled up lumps of the red clay to fill their pots.

  As Hlalose’s beauty and good humour had grown through the years, so had the jealousy of the other girls. So, on this special day, they whispered among themselves, and made a plan.

  As Hlalose bent down to pull up a last handful of clay from the bottom of the pit, they grabbed her roughly and pushed her in. Then they covered her up with the earth that lay around the pit, and left at once for home.

  When they came in sight of the kraal, the dog jumped up to greet his beloved mistress. But when all the girls had gone by and he could give no bark of welcome, he began to whine instead. The darkness was falling so they all went in to eat their evening meal.

  At first only the dog noticed that Hlalose was not there, but when the chief returned to his hut, he found the thong chewed through, and Mpempe gone.

  This is strange,” he said. “Where is my daughter and why has Mpempe g
one?”

  No one knew. “No, she did not go with us,” lied the clay gatherers. “We heard her speaking of some man she wanted to meet at the waterhole,” and they hurried away to bed.

  Then, as the chief called men to light torches and begin a search, Mpempe staggered into sight.

  His legs and head were plastered with clay, and in his mouth was a leather thong tied to a little wooden amulet that Hlalose always wore.

  “Ah,” said the chief, “the girls have lied to me. Carry the faithful Mpempe. He will show us where to look. See the clay on his body! To the clay pits! Hurry!” Off they went in haste, with blazing torches carried high.

  As the clay pits came into sight, the dog started to whine, and then there was a shout of joy from a high tree. There sat Hlalose in its topmost branches.

  The chief saw proof of what had happened – the hole in which Hlalose had been buried, with claw marks all around where Mpempe had dug his mistress out; and the smears and smudges all over her face where he had licked her back to life.

  “Then we heard the lions roar,” cried his daughter, and I climbed the tree.” There, sure enough, were large marks of the big cats’ paws as they had prowled around the tree.

  “But when they saw the flames from the torches as you came, the lions ran away. I dropped the amulet as I climbed the tree. Mpempe seized it and ran to fetch you. Now he has saved my life.”

  Next morning, Mahlevana called the clay gatherers to him and said, “Those who give death, receive death, but because Mpempe gave Hlalose the chance to live, I will give each of you a chance to live. For a long time now it has been my wish to wear the snow-white skin of the great fierce water beast, Nabulela. Bring it to me, and I will spare your lives.”

  The girls looked at each other in dismay. They had been given a fearsome task. Which should they try to do? To take Nabulela alive, or kill him?

  Their hearts sank at the thought. However, they made their plans, and they all set out that afternoon, with a big pot of the usual porridge cakes.

  They took care, however, to leave the strong, circular cattle kraal open at each end, and they also left four of their number to guard the gates, two at either entrance. Then off the others went, to Nabulela’s home.

  As the lake came in sight they began their song,

  “Nabulela, Nabulela, come out and eat me.

  Mahlevana the chief has said,

  ‘Come out and eat me.’ ”

  Soon out of the water came an enormous mouth ready to receive the offering. But as the mouth opened wide, the girls saw two toothless jaws, and they knew that this was not the right creature. So they picked up their porridge cakes, and continued round the lake, still singing their song to call Nabulela to his feast. Many creatures appeared but not one of them was Nabulela.

  At last, as darkness descended, there arose from the water a snow-white creature, and in his open mouth huge teeth gleamed. Yes, this was the beast they wanted.

  The girls went on singing their song, and started gently drawing farther and farther from the water’s edge, pulling the cakes with them while Nabulela followed.

  When the fearsome beast was right out of the water, they dropped the cakes and ran for home, and Nabulela chased after them. They ran as fast as they could, but the great beast’s legs were strong, and he ran faster. Slowly and surely he gained on them.

  Just as they felt they could run no further, the village came in sight. They ran straight through the cattle kraal and as they passed through the farthest gate, their friends pushed in the heavy posts just ahead of Nabulela who was sniffing at their heels. He turned back to the gate where he had come in, but that had been closed behind him, and he found himself a captive in the big round kraal.

  Then came the fathers of the girls with shields and gleaming spears to finish their daughters’ work and save them from the chief’s anger. They were too many for the great beast and at last Nabulela sank bleeding to the ground.

  So it was that until his death Mahlevana wore Nabulela’s snow-white skin as a cape across his shoulders, and the clay gatherers were forgiven.

  And still today in the faraway villages in KwaZulu, the little ones ask for the song of Nabulela to soothe them to their slumber.

  Struik Lifestyle

  (an imprint of Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd)

  Company Reg. No 1966/003153/07

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  First published by Struik Timmins (hardcover) in 1988

  Second edition (softcover) published in 1991

  Reprinted eight times

  Third edition published by Struik Publishers in 2006

  Reprinted in 2007.

  Fourth edition published by Struik Lifestyle in 2014

  Copyright © in published edition Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd 1988, 1991, 2006, 2014

  Copyright © in text, the estate of the late Phyllis Baillon 1988, 1991, 2006, 2014

  Copyright © in illustrations Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd 1988, 1991, 2006, 2014

  ISBN 978-1-43230-342-6 (Print)

  ISBN 978-1-43230-492-8 (PDF)

  ISBN 978-1-43230-491-1 (ePub)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, digital, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and the copyright owners.

  Fourth edition

  Publisher: Linda de Villiers

  Managing editor: Cecilia Barfield

  Proofreader: Gill Gordon

  Design manager: Beverley Dodd

  Designer: Randall Watson

  Illustrator: Gina Daniel

  Reproduction by Hirt & Carter Cape (Pty) Ltd

  Printing and binding by DJE Flexible Print Solutions, Cape Town