African Folktales

by Roger Abrahams

  But then they had to find a piece of wood with which to thresh the corn so Penis said. “May the chief’s life be prolonged! Here we are now, and yet they’re looking for something to thresh with! Just give me a bit of room and you’ll see!” And pulling out his penis, he began threshing, and presently the corn was threshed.

  But there was no wind, and word was brought to the chief that, though the corn was threshed, there was no wind and so could be no winnowing. Then said the Wind Breaker, “May the chief’s life be prolonged! Here are we, and in spite of that they’re still looking for wind!” And he unveiled his anus, and let rip. And all the chaff was blown away, leaving just the grain.

  But they had no bag to put the grain in. So Testicles said, “May the chief’s life be prolonged! Here are we, and in spite of what we’ve done, they’re still looking for a sack to catch the grain!” And opening his scrotum, he said, “Bring me the grain and pour in in here.” And they did it, and he carried the corn home.

  All right, among the four of them that exercised his special gift, who was the champion?

  —Hausa

  24

  Who Should He Kill?

  There was once a man who did no other job but digging out pesky ground squirrels. Taking his son to work with him one day, he said, “You stop up the back entrances, and I’ll dig.” But when the father set about digging in the ground squirrel’s hole, the ground squirrel came out where the son was, and made off. Then the father hit his son and with the handle of his hoe and knocked him senseless.

  A little later in the evening, up came an Arab taking a stroll, and he saw the son of the squirrel digger, who was just coming to his senses. Now this Arab had never had any children, so he picked up the boy and took him home. His nose was dirty and full of ants, and the Arab wiped them away and had him bathed in hot water. When the boy recovered completely, the Arab dressed him in a black and white gown, embroidered trousers, and a heavily indigoed gown, as well, with a turban twenty cubits long and twenty strips wide.

  Now in this area, the rich merchants’ sons used to ride and compete at the racetrack. The Arab brought out a saddle ornamented in gold and silver, with brass stirrups from Tripoli, and all the other trappings for a horse. Then he told the boy to mount up, and said to him, “When you get to the track, whatever you see the other riders do—you do it, too!” So the boy joined the rich merchants’ sons and went along with them. Some great arguments arose among the people over whose son he was, but no one knew the truth.

  When the merchants’ sons got home, each one said to his father, “There’s an Arab who has a son who has more finery than we have.” And their fathers answered, “No, it’s not really his son. That’s false.” But they added, “All the same, we will test him. Tomorrow when you go riding with him, let each one give away his horse and equipment before he comes home. Then we’ll see! For generosity is the way to demonstrate true wealth.”

  So the sons went out the next day, and afterwards they gave away their horses. And watching carefully, the Arab’s boy, too, gave away his horse.

  After this, the merchants gave their sons other horses, each worth a million cowries, and told them, “When you go riding, before you come home, cut down your horses!” And the Arab’s boy was given a horse worth ten million. When they had had their gallop, each one took his sword and cut down his horse. Then the Arab’s boy, without even troubling to take the saddle off, cut down his horse and went off home. And they said, “Did you see? He cut down his horse,” and again, “Well! The Arab’s boy didn’t even take off the horse’s equipment; he left it there.” Then people said, “So it seems he is his son after all!”

  Time passed and the Muslim festival was at hand. In the morning, the usual mounted procession took place, and in all the town, there wasn’t a youth whose horse was fitted out to touch the Arab’s. And as they were coming back from the mosque, they passed among the common people who had come from the country into the town for prayers.

  Well, it happened that the squirrel digger, the real father of the boy, had come to town for the festival and had joined the crowd. When he saw his son, he exclaimed, “Hey! Get down from that horse—you know it’s not your own father’s, you rascal! Look at your brothers there—one of them has killed nine ground squirrels, one of them ten, and you—here are you in dissipation and idleness!” And the Arab said to him, “Please, please keep it to yourself! Here—take your son!”

  And in the evening, the Arab chose two horses and saddled them up, picked out two gowns, a black one and a white one, and gave them to the boy’s father. And the Arab gave him twenty thousand cowry shells and provisions for the journey. Then all three mounted up and rode out.

  They left the town and came into the bush. Suddenly, the Arab produced a sword and gave it to the boy, saying, “Now! Either me or your father—cut down one of us!”

  Well that’s the question—the Arab, who had given him so many things? Or his own father, who had struck him unconscious because of the ground squirrel? Which should he kill?

  —Hausa

  25

  Killing Virtue

  In the olden time, a man went hunting in the far bush. He took with him his wife. But one day he left her by a shea-butter tree and did not return, and the woman could not find her way home to their village. She therefore built herself a shelter near the tree, where not long after she gave birth to a boy child.

  Now, a lioness lived quite close to the tree, and she gave birth to a male cub at the same time as the woman too bore her child; but she was unaware that the woman was nearby. Every day the lioness went into the bush to look for meat, and the woman also wandered away in search of roots and fruits. While they were absent, the two children, the man-child and the lion cub, met and played together, and became the fastest of friends, without either parent’s knowledge.

  One day, however, the lioness lay in wait near the shea-butter tree, sprang on the woman as she was returning home, killed her, and brought the body back to share with her cub. The man-child missed his mother at midday, but even so went out in the evening to play with the lion cub. The cub, however, would not play, and kept looking at his friend, who at last, said: “Lion, what is the matter?” And the lion replied: “Man, I have had no food today; I have bad trouble for you. Follow me.”

  So the man-child went with the lion cub back to the latter’s home, and there he saw his mother lying dead on the ground. He began to cry, but the lion cub said: “Stop! I have sworn a big oath today that as my mother has killed your mother, I shall be your faithful friend until I die. I will avenge you, and until then I shall care for you.” Having said this, he took the man-child back home.

  Each day, for many months after that, the lion cub brought a large share of the meat his mother gave him to the man-child. They grew up together, playing and becoming more and more friendly, and every morning the lion cub called the man-child, and, placing his paw in the paw-mark of his mother, said: “Soon, very soon, I shall be strong enough.”

  At last, there came the day when the two fitted exactly, the footprints of the cub and of its mother. Then the cub went out with its mother, and said: “Teach me how to catch meat.”

  After a few lessons, the cub thought he was strong enough, and he told the man-child that the next day he would avenge the slaying of his mother. The following morning, the cub killed the lioness, his mother, and showed the corpse to his friend, saying: “Now, I have kept the first part of my oath.”

  Then for a long time the two lived quite happily together, but one evening the lion cub said to his friend, “It is time for you to return to your brothers, marry, and live in the village. I have seen a very fine girl, the daughter of a chief; she must be your wife. Now listen to my plan. Go to the village. I will hide myself near the watering place and, when I see this girl, I will catch her, but I won’t harm her. Everyone else will run away scared, so if you go to the chief and ask him for his daughter, he will agree if you can save her. Then follow me and I will give her
up to you. Build your house on the outskirts of the village. I will come to see you every Friday evening, and you must meet me here in the bush alone. But remember this, never take a second wife or trouble will surely come.”

  The man-child followed the lion’s instructions, and rescued and married the chief’s daughter. The people built him a house outside the village, but every Friday he sent his wife to spend the night with her family, while he and the lion played together and exchanged their news.

  A long time passed in this way, when one day there came to the village a woman of great wealth and power. She had refused every man’s offer of marriage and having decided to choose for herself, was traveling everywhere throughout the land in search of a suitable husband. She saw the man-child, fell in love, and asked him to marry her. But he, mindful of the lion cub’s words, refused her. She insisted, so he compromised, and took her into his household.

  Every Friday, however, he sent her to the village with his wife. The lion foretold trouble, but the man-child said that there would be no problem because he had not married the woman; she was merely his.

  But unlike his wife, this woman had a curiosity which she couldn’t contain—and one Friday, instead of leaving, she hid herself and saw the lion coming to meet his friend. She went to tell a hunter and that night, while the two friends had their usual fun, he hid himself in the lion’s path. When the lion left in the morning, the hunter shot him—and then immediately went back to tell the people. On hearing the news, the man-child ran to his friend’s corpse and, seizing the arrow that had killed him, he stabbed himself with it and died. When his wife arrived and saw the body of her husband and his friend, she went straight back to the house, found a rope, and hanged herself.

  “Now which of the three, lion, man, or wife, do you think was the most virtuous?”

  —Ashanti

  26

  A Spirited Contending

  There were once two young men who were courting the same girl, and each man had two spears. One day, on their way home with her, they passed through the bush, and a lion waylaid them. The girl fell down saying that her stomach was paining her. The lion leapt at them, and the first youth threw his spear, but the lion dodged and the spear fell to the ground. The youth threw his second spear also, and that, too, fell to the ground.

  In his turn, the other young fellow stepped forward and he, too, threw a spear, but like the rest it just fell to the ground. Then he threw his second spear, but again he missed the lion. So all their spears were used up and still the beast hadn’t been hit.

  Then one of the two youths said to the other, “Hurry, and run home. In my mother’s hut, at the head of the bed, you’ll find some spears. Bring them, and some water in a calabash, and some potash, too.” At once, the boy ran off to do these things.

  Meanwhile, the other young fellow leapt at the lion, and after a struggle, threw him, and taking his knife cut his throat. Then he lifted the lion into a squatting position, and the girl came over and lay down beside the lion. The youth got behind the mane and hid.

  Soon the one who had left returned with the spears, the water, and the potash, but he couldn’t find the other youth and the girl. A little further on, he bumped into the lion crouching there, with the girl lying in front of him, but he didn’t recognize her. He said to himself, “So that was the trick was it? The two went off and ran away, and left the lion to kill someone else’s child! Well, then, I can’t let the lion live to do that again.” And tossing away his spears and his little calabash of water and the potash, he threw himself at the lion. He grappled with it, and the lion, of course, fell right over. The girl and the other boy got up laughing.

  Well then—which of the two, the boy who killed the lion, or the other boy who went and fetched the spears and the little calabash of water and the potash—which of the two of them showed greater spirit?

  —Hausa

  27

  Love Caused It All

  A chief married a wife, but they could not seem to produce children, so he called a magician. “Wise man,” he said, “I love my wife, but we have no child. That is it. You are to help me, so that we may have a child.” The wise man agreed and went into his room. He sat there for a long time, perhaps a month. When he came out, he said, “You will get a child, you with your wife. But no one is to see him except you and your wife and the one who cooks for him—only these three.”

  Sure enough, the wife became pregnant, and when her time came, she gave birth. The child was brought into the house, and a room made ready for him in the attic. There the child remained for a long time, and there he grew. The child even learned to walk on his own, for he was alone in the attic, high up. He became a young man, but still he stayed in the attic, looking down at the people below, wondering at the life outside.

  One day a girl walked out in the village, so that he could see her from his perch. They let their eyes meet, she and the boy (he forgot that he had been told that he should not be seen by any other person). They stood looking at each other for a long time. The girl decided she must find this strange boy’s room. She searched for a long ladder, and when she found one, she leaned it against the house.

  Evening came. The girl climbed up into the attic and told the boy, “Since I saw you yesterday, my heart has not stood still. That is why I have come, I love you.” The boy explained why he was hidden away. Then they lay down together.

  When the sun had risen, the woman who cooked for the boy brought water for him to wash himself, and she found the girl sitting there, and the child, the boy, he was dead! She called the chief and his mother. “Come here! Come here! I have seen something amazing. The boy has died, and a woman is in the room, just sitting there!” The chief went with the mother and saw the boy’s body, and saw the girl sitting. He asked if she had killed his son, and she replied, “Yes. Our love caused it.”

  The distraught parents called the wise man again. “Ha! the child you struggled for us to get, that child has died.” The wise man said, “Well, all right. Let us burn the body. Let me have men now to go and cut wood and bring it to the village.” The men went out then to cut some wood. They brought it to the village, where they put it down, and the wise man asked if they had a can of kerosene. They did, and he said, “Well, fetch it.” Then he poured it all over the wood, and made a big fire of it. When it was blazing, he turned to the father. “Aha. Chief, do you love your son?” “Yes.” “Well, then, go into the fire.” The chief went up to the fire, but it was so hot that he turned back. He went up to it again, and then he sat down and wept. The wise man said, “Ah! chief, I suppose you don’t love your son.”

  He called the mother, “Well, do you love your son?” “Yes.” “Well, you go into the fire, so that you may be burnt with him.” His mother went up as well, but it was too hot. She retreated. She came near it again, but then said, “All right. I will not be burnt, too. I will leave it as it is.” “Well, all right.”

  The girl was called, the one who found the boy and caused him to die. “Girl, do you love the man?” “Yes.” “Well then, go into the fire, so you may both be burnt.” The girl leaped into the fire. Then they were burnt together, the two of them.

  When the fire died down, the wise man took the ashes, and went back to his room again. Once more he stayed for a whole month. There he made a complete woman and man. He made them just like Limba people, they were alive. He said, “Aha, chief. The work you called me for, I have finished it. Here is the man and the woman.” The chief said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He paid the magician. The wise man went off, and the boy came out with his wife. He said, “Father, I cannot live here. I must go upcountry, far away.” “All right, my son, all right. Go, with your wife.”

  They spent the whole day traveling. Then hunger seized the man so badly that he was weak all over and could not go any further. There was nearby a woman who had hired some men to clear out a swamp for her. She had cooked some rice with meat and putting it on her head, had set out to take it to her w
orkers. On the way, she came upon the place where the traveler had collapsed with hunger, the man and his wife. The woman, when she saw them said, “Hey, this man is fine, isn’t he! I want to marry him.” The wife said, “No! No! No! No! I won’t allow it.” The woman replied, “If you agree to let me marry him, I will take this rice and give it to him, he can eat it—this rice I have cooked for my workers.” The girl said, “All right.” So she gave them the rice and they ate it up.

  Then the two women and their husband set out together. They soon met another woman, a mother of a young child, washing at the water. She said, “Hey, that man is fine! I must marry him.” The other woman said, “I can’t allow it. No! No! No! No! I took my rice, the rice for my workers, and gave it all to the man, so that my workers were left with none at all. Now you come to say just like that that you want the man. I can’t allow it.” The girl said, “Do you see this water here, this big river? There are many crocodiles in it, and no one can cross here without first throwing someone in the water, so that the crocodiles may have something to eat. All right. If you let me marry this man, I will take my child and throw him to the crocodiles, and you may cross safely in the boat.” The other agreed, so the mother took and threw her child into the water. Then the three wives and their man got into the boat and they quickly crossed the river. The crocodiles did not catch them.

  Well, a stranger could not safely enter the village to which they went, unless he could show where the chief’s afterbirth was buried. When they reached the village, the chief’s daughter, his firstborn, she said, “Hey, I love the man who is come to our village. I will go there to marry him.” Then said the woman, “No! No! No! No! I can’t agree. I took my child whom I bore, I threw him to the crocodiles in the river so we could cross. Now we have gotten this far and you say you are coming to our husband to take him away and marry him. I can’t allow it.” The chief’s daughter said, “Oh! If you allow me to come in marriage to your husband, I will show you the secret of the village, and your husband will not be killed.” And so they all agreed. The chief’s daughter said, “Tomorrow morning when your husband gets up, have him walk out on the veranda and look around. I will be sweeping the compound. Where I beat out the broom, that is the place where the chief’s afterbirth is buried.” And thus the man was shown the secret.