By now, the workers were completely exhausted. They stopped their labor and were waiting impatiently for food and drink. When no one arrived, they took up their hoes and machetes and set out for home. They grumbled and muttered as they left: “Tiger does not seem to realize that the horse can run only on what is in his stomach.”
On their way home, they came upon the dancers and, as if their hunger had suddenly vanished, they, too, started dancing with gusto. Realizing that the group was fully assembled, Tortoise put more zest into his music and added all sorts of ornate embellishments. The words of the song became more distinct, and as each of the workers danced, he silently blamed himself for having gone to work for Tiger. Tortoise continued playing his music until the revelers became weary with dancing.
The music then stopped abruptly, and Tortoise emerged from his hole. To Tiger he said, “Since you did not invite me to work for you, I had to invite myself. If I have not enough strength to work with my hoe, I have enough strength to distract the workers with my harp. I hope that from now on you will not forget the needs of any of your fellow animals.”
And to the others, the Tortoise said, “Goodbye, his workers, goodbye, my dancers.”
—Igbo
40
The Nature of the Beast
A farmer was once working on his land, when a snake came up to him and said he was being chased by a lot of men.
“You must hide me,” said the snake.
“Where can I hide you?” asked the farmer.
“Just save my life,” said the snake, “that’s all I ask.”
The farmer couldn’t think of anywhere to hide the snake, so he crouched down and allowed it to creep into his belly. When the pursuers came up, they said, “Hey you, where’s the snake we were after—it came your way.”
“I haven’t seen it,” said the farmer.
When the men had gone, the farmer said to the snake, “The coast’s clear—you can come out now.”
“Not likely,” said the snake, “I’ve found myself a home.”
The farmer’s belly was now so puffed out that you would have thought that he was a woman with child. He was about to set off for home when he saw a heron. He beckoned to it and told it in a whisper what had happened.
“Go and squat,” said the heron, “and when you’ve done, don’t get up—keep straining until I come.”
The farmer did as he was told and, after a time, the snake put its head out and began snapping at flies. As it did so, the heron darted forward and caught its head in his bill. Then he gradually pulled the rest of the snake out of the farmer’s belly, and killed it.
The farmer got up and said to the heron, “You have rid me of the snake, but now I want a potion to drink because he may have left some of his poison behind.” “You must go and find six white fowls,” said the heron, “and cook and eat them—that’s the remedy.” “Come to think of it,” said the farmer, “you’re a white fowl, so you’ll do for a start.”
So saying, he seized the heron, tied it up, and carried it off home. There he hung it up in his hut while he told his wife what had happened. “I’m surprised at you,” said his wife. “The bird does you a kindness, rids you of the evil in your belly, saves your life, in fact, and yet you catch it and talk of killing it.” With that she released the heron and it flew away. But as it went, it gouged out one of her eyes.
That is all. When you see water flowing uphill, it means that someone is repaying a kindness.
—Hausa
41
The Disobedient Sisters
A very long time ago, the people of a certain village lived in terror of the beasts of the land and of the sea, for these beasts occasionally invaded them and carried many of their children away.
Omelumma and Omelukpagham, two sisters, were very young children during this period of great fear. Their parents, like all others in the village, were worried about the safety of their children. Whenever they had to go away on a trip, they would leave the children plenty of food, and tell them to stay inside the house.
One day, the parents had to go to a distant market. Before they set out on their journey, they warned the two sisters to be very careful. They said, “Children, while we are away, don’t let the smoke of the cooking fire escape into the air. When you pound the grain into meal, don’t hit the mortar too hard with the pestle. And above all girls, don’t join the other children at play in the open field.”
But Omelumma and Omelukpagham were irresponsible and they did not listen to their parents’ warnings. As soon as they were alone, they started to do exactly those things they had been instructed not to do. They made a huge fire and let plenty of smoke escape into the air. They pounded heavily in the mortar as they crushed the grain. Worse still, as soon as they heard the shouting and laughter of the other children in the field, they ran out and joined them.
They had not played long when—just as the adults had feared—the beasts of the sea and the land invaded the field. The children ran for dear life, each in a different direction. The beasts of the sea caught Omelumma, while the beasts of the land carried away her younger sister. And so they were separated and placed in bondage.
Omelumma was later sold to a youth who loved her so well that he married her. Omelukpagham did not have the same luck. She was sold to one wicked person after another, and used for all sorts of odd jobs.
Years after their capture, when the girls had become women, Omelumma gave birth to a baby boy. Her husband went to the market to buy a servant for her and—as luck would have it—he bought Omelukpagham. Neither sister recognized the other.
Omelumma treated Omelukpagham most harshly. Before Omelumma went to market, she would draw up a long list of the jobs for her sister to complete while she was away. She also warned her to keep the baby comfortable so he would not cry. But if Omelukpagham put the baby on a mat so that she could do her work, it would cry bitterly, and Omelumma, furious, would beat her when she returned. If, on the other hand, she carried the baby around so he would not cry, Omelumma would beat her for failing to complete her tasks. And to make matters worse, it seemed that the baby often cried no matter what she did, and the neighbors always reported it to Omelumma. Omelukpagham had a real problem.
One day, as Omelukpagham tried to work, the baby cried very, very loudly. She placed it on her lap and sang to it. Just then one of the neighbors came by and asked her why she was not working. Omelukpagham jumped up, and then, in desperation, sat back down with the baby on her lap, and sang him a lullaby.
Child, stop, stop, stop crying
Zemililize
Stop crying, Omelukpagham’s child
Zemililize
Our mother warned us not to allow smoke to escape
Zemililize
But we allowed smoke to escape
Zemililize
Our father warned us not to pound hard in the mortar
Zemililize
But we pounded hard in the mortar
Zemililize
The lullaby went on to tell the rest of the story of that fateful day when Omelukpagham was separated from her sister.
An old woman in the next compound heard Omelukpagham singing this sad tale. And because she had once heard the same story from Omelumma it came to her that the servant must be Omelumma’s lost sister. The old woman went out to find Omelumma before she could return home and beat her sister again, and she told her the story of the lullaby. On the following day, after the usual threats and instructions, Omelumma made as if to leave for the market, but actually she hid behind the house.
When the baby began crying and would not stop, Omelukpagham sang the lullaby, resigning herself to whatever ill-treatment she might receive for not working. Suddenly, Omelumma, weeping bitterly, rushed out from her hiding place and warmly embraced her. Startled and afraid, Omelukpagham tried to explain why she hadn’t done her work, but her sister interrupted her with, “Omelukpagham, I am your sister Omelumma.” Both of them fell into each other’s arms and wept,
while Omelumma went on and on apologizing for her past brutality.
From that day on, they both lived happily as tender sisters. And Omelumma resolved never to mistreat a servant again.
—Igbo
42
Rich Man, Poor Man
It happened one time, long, long ago, that in one of the villages of the Akamba, there were two men who lived as neighbors. One was rich, and the other was poor, but they were friends. The poor man worked for the rich man, helping him. Now a famine came to the land. And when the suffering became very severe, the rich man forgot the poor man, and the poor man who used to eat at his friend’s house now had to beg from him. Finally, the rich man chased him away altogether, because a rich man cannot remain a friend of a poor person for too long, and he felt that even the scraps he now gave his poor neighbor were just too much.
One day, this poor man was scrounging about in the village for something to eat. He was given maize by a man who took pity on him, and he took it home to his wife, and she cooked it. But they had no meat with which to make it into soup; nor did they have salt with which to season it. So the man said, “I will go to see if my rich friend is having a good soup tonight.” He went and found that the meal cooking there gave out a nice sweet smell. So he returned back to his house, got the cooked maize, and brought it back to the rich man’s house, where he sat against the wall and ate it, breathing in the smell that came from the rich man’s meal. When he had eaten, he returned to his own home.
Another day, the poor man saw the rich man and went up to him and said, “I came a few days ago, while you were eating your food, and I sat by the wall, and ate my food together with the delicious smell that came from your food.”
The rich man was furious, and he said, “So that’s why my food was completely tasteless that day! It was you who ate the good taste from my food, and you must pay me for it! I’m taking you to the judge to file a case against you.” And he did that, and the poor man was told to pay one goat to the rich man for eating the sweet smell from his food. But the poor man could not afford even one goat, and he broke down and cried as he went back to his house.
On his way home, he met a wise man and speechmaker, and he told him what had happened. The wise man gave him a goat, and told him to keep that goat until he came back. Now, the judge had appointed a certain day when the poor man was to pay the rich man; and on that day, many people came together to witness the payment. The wise man came also, and when he saw the people talking, he asked, “Why are you making so much fuss here?” The judge said, “This poor man is supposed to pay this rich man a goat, for the smell he breathed from the rich man’s food.” The wise man asked his first question again, and he was given the same answer. So the wise man said, “Will you let me give another judgment on this case?” The people said, “Yes, if you are a good judge!” So he went on to say, “A man who steals must give back only as much as he has taken, no more, no less.”
When the people asked him how he could pay back just the smell of good food, the wise man replied, “I will show you!” Then he turned to the rich man, and said to him, “Rich man, I am going to hit this goat, and when it bleats, I want you to take its bleating sound! You are not to touch this poor man’s goat, unless he touched your food.” Then he said again to the people, “Listen now, while I pay back the rich man.” So he beat the goat, and it bleated, and he said to the rich man, “Take that sound as payment for the smell of your good food!”
—Akamba
43
Finders Keepers
There was once a time of great famine, and Tortoise, like everyone else, was busy seeking food for his children. He bought much maize and made up a good load. On his way home he came to a fallen tree lying across the road, and he could not get over it. He walked up and down along the trunk of the tree, and at last his load slipped off and fell down on the other side. Just then a monitor lizard happened to pass, and, seeing the load, exclaimed—“Well look what I have found.” Tortoise (having by this time finally made his way around the tree) said to him, “That’s mine—it just slipped off my head and fell on this side.” Monitor Lizard replied, “I don’t know about that; all I know is that I picked it up. Finders keepers, losers weepers.” Tortoise said, “Let us go to the elders and have them judge what to do.”
When they came to the elders, Tortoise explained what happened: “I came from gathering food and there was a fallen tree blocking the road. My load of food slipped off and fell on the other side of the tree. Then Monitor Lizard saw it and claimed it.” The elders said to Tortoise, “You know that the finder of such things is permitted to keep them. That is our rule.” So Tortoise went his way, and Monitor took up what he had “found” and carried it to his children.
Now, it happened one day that Tortoise and his companions went hunting, and they made a fire to lure prey into their trap. In the grass that they had set on fire, Monitor was sleeping. He woke up and ran here and there, and found a small hole in which to hide, but his tail stuck out of it. Tortoise, seeing Monitor’s tail exposed, put out his hand and seized it, saying, “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
Monitor said, “You have got hold of my tail, my friend, let me alone.” Tortoise said, “I did not touch your tail, I have found something to which I am entitled, a beautiful sword.” Monitor begged, “My friend this is my tail, you cannot claim it as spoil.” Tortoise said to him, “Let us go to the elders.” When they arrived, Monitor said, “I was running away from a fire and I entered a small hole, but my tail was outside; then this person came along and said, It is a sword,’ and I said, ‘It is my tail,’ but he would not listen.” Tortoise said, “Today you are surprised. Lately you took my food-gathering, and you thought nothing of it.” The elders said, “Remember what you recently did to your friend.” Monitor said, “It was only food I took that day. Wait my friend, and I will fetch what I took.” Tortoise said, “Today is today.” The elders said to Monitor, “Give your companion his sword.” Monitor said, “But it is not a sword, it is my tail.” They said, “Give it to him,” and the tail was cut off. Tortoise said, “Cut it high up, that I may have a good handle.” So Monitor’s tail was cut off, and given to Tortoise, and halfway home he threw it away, saying, “I only wanted to be even with him.” Monitor wriggled and died. If a person does harm to another, he should remember what may happen to him another day.
—Bondei
44
The Leopard Woman
A man and a woman were once making a hard journey through the bush. The woman had her baby strapped upon her back as she walked along the rough path overgrown with vines and shrubbery. They had nothing to eat with them, and as they traveled on they became very hungry.
Suddenly, emerging from the heavily wooded forest into a grassy plain, they came upon a herd of bush cows grazing quietly.
The man said to the woman, “You have the power of transforming yourself into whatever you like; change now to a leopard and capture one of the bush cows, that I may have something to eat and not perish.” The woman looked at the man significantly, and said, “Do you really mean what you ask, or are you joking?” “I mean it,” said the man, for he was very hungry.
The woman untied the baby from her back, and put it upon the ground. Hair began growing upon her neck and body. She dropped her loincloth; a change came over her face. Her hands and feet turned into claws. And, in a few moments, a wild leopard was standing before the man, staring at him with fiery eyes. The poor man was frightened nearly to death and clambered up a tree for protection. When he was nearly to the top, he saw that the poor little baby was almost within the leopard’s jaws, but he was so afraid, that he couldn’t make himself come down to rescue it.
When the leopard saw that she already had the man good and frightened, and full of terror, she ran away to the flock of cattle to do for him as he had asked her to. Capturing a large young heifer, she dragged it back to the foot of the tree. The man, who was still as far up in its top as he could go, cried out, and pite
ously begged the leopard to transform herself back into a woman.
Slowly, the hair receded, and the claws disappeared, until finally, the woman stood before the man once more. But so frightened was he still, that he would not come down until he saw her take up her clothes and tie her baby to her back. Then she said to him, “Never ask a woman to do a man’s work again.”
Women must care for the farms, raise breadstuffs, fish, etc., but it is man’s work to do the hunting and bring in the meat for the family.
—Liberia
Part III
Tales of Trickster and Other Ridiculous Creatures: Tales to Entertain
Introduction
T
he stories in this section are perhaps the most common type of tale in the African repertoire. They also may be the strangest to Western readers if only because they depict such chaotic motives and unprincipled actions. These are the tales of the doings and undoings of Trickster, a figure who, at one and the same time, represents primal creativity and pathological destructiveness, childish innocence and self-absorption. We witness a great deal of scheming, but with little thought of the consequences, even to the schemer. Most important for an understanding of the place of these tales in African village life, whenever Trickster emerges, everyone begins to laugh, for the very idea of his existence is ridiculous. His antics represent just what sane and mature people do not do. Sometimes the scheming is fairly harmless, as in “How Squirrel Robbed Rabbit of His Tail,” but more often, death and destruction become ends in themselves, it seems, as in the string of horrors of “Hlakanyana” or the outright brutality of “Stuffing the Hyena.”
African Folktales Page 20