There are various stories about Muni Putu: how he gained his name, and why he left his mother’s lands to found his own kingdom. One popular but inaccurate story says that his name comes from a phrase uttered in a dispute with his maternal kin: they questioned his father’s ancestry, saying a hunter could have come from anywhere and had no claim to precedence. He challenged them to make good their claims by proving their courage, and suggesting to his main accuser that each of them should cut off a finger. The other man refused, but Muni Putu made good his boast and cried out ‘Mono puto’ (I have the wound). Later, though, he found their opposition to his claims so strong that he departed the kingdom.
He came to the Kwango river and there he met Buka Phangu, who ceded lands to him. There is some suggestion that he may have engaged in a deception, going first as a single hunter to ask permission of the ruler to establish himself, and then bringing in his large crowd of followers. At any rate, he was able to establish himself as Kyambvu in the area, and he is considered the first true Kyambvu.
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THE KINGDOM OF KONGO
The BaKongo live inland from the Atlantic coast around the mouth of the Congo river; most of the territory lies south of the river in the modern Democratic Republic of the Congo and in northern Angola. They were organized into a kingdom when the Portuguese navigators encountered them in the fifteenth century. The kings of Kongo became Christian and entered into diplomatic relations with Portugal, although traditional beliefs remained strong outside the court. In the seventeenth century a civil war split the kingdom, weakening it greatly. In the nineteenth century the territory was colonized by the Belgians and so became the Belgian Congo. It was at first the private colony of King Leopold, until his oppression of the people led the Belgian government to take it over. At the time of the first encounters with Europeans, the BaKongo claimed their kingdom had been founded four or five generations before (in the mid-1300s); the story changed somewhat over time, as did the king-lists, and for that reason several versions of the foundation story are given. Such early written documentation for the kingdom is exceptional for sub-Saharan African states. Stories of the BaKongo trickster, Moni-Mambu, are given in Chapter 15.
LUQUENI: A VERSION FROM 1687
A man named Eminia N’Zima married a woman, Luqueni Luasanzi, who was the daughter of Nsaku-Klau. They had a son, Luqueni. Eminia N’Zima settled in a high rocky place where he could control the trade routes and exact tribute from those passing through, and where he controlled the ferry crossing of the river. One day his son was managing the ferry when a woman came and refused to pay the toll, claiming that she was the sister of Eminia N’Zima. The son refused to let her pass without payment, and the argument became so violent that he stabbed her, even though she was pregnant. His father proposed to punish his son, but the people rose up and acclaimed the son as their king. Luqueni led them on a path of conquest, and then settled the kingdom, dividing and allocating the provinces, laying down the laws. His uncle, Nsaku-Klau, established a separate but subordinate lineage in the province of Batta.
MUTTINU: A VERSION FROM 1710
A woman named Ne Lucheni wanted to cross the river, but the ferryman was taking too long, waiting for the boat to fill up before he started his passage. She reproached him, complaining that he was taking so long, and he mocked her, asking if she was a queen or the mother of the king, to require and deserve immediate service. She went home and complained to her son, Muttinu a Lucheni, and he consoled her with the promise that she would become the mother of a king. So he assembled his people, crossed the river, and launched a career of conquest. This was the origin of the kingdom of the Congo.
NTINU WENE: A VERSION FROM THE EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY
Wene was the youngest son of the ruler of Vungu, a small state, and he regretted that his father’s domains were so small, and he so far down the line of succession. He had little scope for his ambitions. But nevertheless he gathered about himself a group of friends and supporters, men who were willing to follow him into new lands to establish a new kingdom.
In the meantime, he fulfilled the function his father had assigned to him: he managed the boats and pirogues which provided a ferry service across the river, and collected the fees which were demanded of all the passengers. One day a woman came who said she was his aunt and refused to pay the toll; the dispute escalated, and Wene killed the woman. His father was furious and was prepared to punish Wene severely, but Wene’s supporters rallied to his defence and began acclaiming him with the title Ntinu, or king. Each night they held demonstrations marked by drinking and frenetic dancing, and enthusiasm for the prince and his cause built up. Eventually, he led his followers across the river, as he had planned, and conquered a new territory in which he would be king. This became the province of Nsundi, and it retained a certain pre-eminence over the other territories that were later incorporated in the great kingdom of Kongo. The former ruler was not completely dispossessed, and was given a ritual function in the new court.
Ntinu Wene’s followers continued their expansion and military adventures, and brought other provinces under the king’s rule. The king eventually divided them among the various lineages following a series of feasts and dances, during which the participants danced in pairs with the regalia of kingship, the sword and the fly-whisk, before coming to kneel before the king and pledge their loyalty, and in which the claimants sang their own praises and boasted of their skills and qualities. These boasts have entered into the clan and lineage praises and are remembered today.
While Ntinu Wene ruled the people in his new lands, he could not yet claim to rule the land itself; he was a conqueror who ruled through power and not because he had been properly consecrated or hallowed. The spiritual authority in the region was held by Nsaku ne Vunda, a medium who communicated with the spirit world and the ancestors, who regulated the seasons for planting and harvesting, and who held cures for all sorts of ailments. One day, Ntinu Wene was seized with convulsions, and his servants, recognizing the probable cause, went to Nsaku ne Vunda, knelt before him, and begged him to come and help to cure their master. Reluctantly, Nsaku ne Vunda agreed and he came to Ntinu Wene’s court. There, the king greeted him as an elder, to whom respect was due, and requested that Nsaku strike him, the king, with the buffalo-tail fly-whisk to drive out the convulsions. This action became part of the ritual of enthronement of the Kongo kings. Thereafter, Ntinu Wene ruled the land without any rival claimant to his power.
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THE FANG OF GABON AND CAMEROON
The Fang now live in the dense equatorial forests of Gabon and Cameroon, having migrated into the region during the nineteenth century, apparently moving south towards the source of trade goods. Although they practised some forms of agriculture, much of their lifestyle was based on foraging the resources of the forests in which they lived, and it is only in the last century that they have become sedentary. Their language links them with a number of other groups in Cameroon (the Bulu, the Beti), as part of the wider Bantu-language family, and in fact their original homeland probably lay around the centre from which the Bantu languages spread, thousands of years ago. Little of their traditional lifestyle now remains; they are settled, the forest in which they lived is vanishing, and on reaching the coast they converted to imported faiths, although their religious practice remains syncretic. The stories are retold from accounts collected by anthropologists and missionaries in the colonial period.
CREATION
The first being was Mebege, although it is also said that the earth was created by a spider which descended from the heavens on a long thread and then released an egg sac which became the earth. Mebege created humans: he fashioned a lizard of clay and after five days placed it in some water (fresh or salt? We do not know). After eight days he came and called to it, and it came out of the water and became Nzame, the first man. Some say that he later created a woman from Nzame’s big toe, but it is more likely that the first woman was created at the same time as Nzame. He
r name was Oyeme-Mam and she was Nzame’s sister.
Nzame and Oyeme had sexual relations. This was the first act of incest, which continues to be considered the greatest defilement among the Fang. As a consequence, Mebege removed himself from the earth, leaving Nzame and his sister to continue the work of creation. Oyeme gave birth to eight pairs of offspring who became the ancestors of the various Fang groups, the Pygmies, the coastal peoples, the whites and chimpanzees.
Nzame went to Mebege, perhaps in spirit form, and returned with knowledge of various skills such as agriculture. Although he did not die – the Fang say he has no tomb to be found above or below – he did depart the world, after leaving instructions for the organization of society. But there were quarrels over the inheritance, and the younger sons practised trickery to get what was not theirs, and so the knowledge was not distributed as he had intended. Some say that this is why the whites have so much more wealth than the Africans.
MIGRATIONS I: THE SEPARATION OF THE PEOPLES
The kinship of the Fang, the Bulu and the Beti peoples is recognized. The difference is explained through their history. At one time, they all lived together, far to the north of their present territory. But they were persecuted there, attacked by red giants, and so eventually they fled south. The giants pursued them. The people came to a river, and there were blocked; at that time they did not have the skill of boat-building. But they encountered a great crocodile, and it offered to help them: it lay across the river, so they were able to use its body as a bridge and cross the waters. The crocodile then waited for the pursuing giants, but after they had advanced onto its body, the reptile sank into the waters and drowned the giants.
Having crossed the river, the people then encountered a forest and their path was blocked by an enormous tree. As they stood debating which way to proceed and how to get past the great azap tree, some Pygmies came to them. After consultation, the Pygmies showed the people the way through the tree: there was a narrow passage through which they could go. At that time, however, they quarrelled over the order in which they were to proceed: older and younger disputed the right to lead. So once they had passed through the tree, they divided into different groups and each group went their own way.
MIGRATIONS II: NGURANGURANE, SON OF THE CROCODILE
In the beginning, the Fang lived by the shores of a great water, a water so wide that one could not see across it. They fished the shores, but did not travel over the water, because they did not yet know about boats. One day an enormous crocodile, a beast so great that its head was as large as a hut, its eye as large as a goat, armoured in scales, swam up. It called the chief of the village and gave him orders: each day, they should deliver to the crocodile a captive: the first day a man, the next a woman, and at each new moon they should add a beautiful young girl adorned with sandal-wood markings and glistening with oil. Otherwise, the village would be destroyed. So spoke Ombure, the greatest of crocodiles.
The village lamented, but the people had no choice. They used up all their wealth in purchasing captives taken from other lands until the chief had nothing left in his storehouse: no skins, no horns, no tusks, no stones. So they consulted and decided that they had no choice but to flee. They would leave the land by the river and travel over the mountains and through the forests, and then Ombure would lose them and they would be free of his exactions. But the chief took some precautions first. He made offerings to the spirits of the water and the winds, of the forest, of day and of night, begging them not to reveal their route to Ombure the crocodile. Then, at the start of the dry season, the people packed what goods were left and slipped away from their village at night. They marched as long and as far as they could until they had to halt from exhaustion. Then they waited, huddled together, fearing at any moment to feel the earth tremble beneath the weight of Ombure’s mass. At dawn they looked about, hardly believing they were safe, and then continued on their journey. The chief consulted his talisman of power to determine their route; he did not know that the talisman obeyed Ombure.
The people crossed mountains; the talisman told them to move on. They passed through a forest; they were told to continue. Finally, they came to the shores of another great lake. There the talisman told them to settle.
In the meantime, Ombure had long since discovered their absence. At his accustomed time he came to the village on the first day of their absence, and was surprised not to find his dinner tied up by the shores of the lake. He left the water and crossed the village, sweeping his tail from side to side in rage and smashing the houses, the shelters, the empty granaries. He came to the fields on the far side of the village: they had not been hoed or planted. They lay fallow. He realized then that the people were trying to flee. He returned to the water and made his magic. He summoned the spirits of the water and the winds and asked them where the people had gone. But the spirits of the water and the winds had made a bargain, and they replied that they did not know, they had not seen them. Ombure summoned the spirits of the forest and asked them which path the people had taken. But the spirits of the forest had made a bargain, and they replied that they had not seen Ombure’s people pass through their domain. Ombure summoned the spirits of day and night and asked them when and where his people had gone. But the spirits of day and night replied that they had no knowledge of his people.
Finally, Ombure summoned the spirits of the storm, of thunder and lightning, and asked them if they had seen his people. The spirits of the storm had made no bargain, and they replied that they had seen Ombure’s people on the path, and that they had settled by a great lake far away. So Ombure knew where they had gone and he set off himself.
The people settled by the lake and built themselves a new village which they named Akurengan (freedom from the crocodile). But that night, as the full moon shone down on the village, they heard a great noise and a wave washed up from the lake. The people left their homes to see what had happened. There, in the centre of the village, was Ombure the crocodile. He stopped right in front of the chief’s house, and when the chief came out of the door, the crocodile caught him in his jaws and swallowed him. ‘Here is your freedom from the crocodile,’ he said, and slipped back into the waters. The next day he returned and imposed his terms on the village: they must give him two men each day, one in the morning, one at night, and the next day they must give him two women, one in the morning, one at night. At every new moon, he was to receive two young maidens, stained with sandal-wood juice and glistening with oil.
The people obeyed. They became raiders to feed Ombure’s appetite, and they were successful because Ombure’s power protected them. Years passed. People forgot how they had once tried to flee and how Ombure had caught them, and they once again decided to run away. The young men and women went first, followed by the children, and lastly the warriors. But they took no precautions. The next day Ombure came to the shore and found no sacrifice. ‘Aha!’ he said, and he summoned the spirits who served him and gave them orders. The people found that the forest closed before them, the trails vanished, and the winds beat in their faces. They were forced back, until they found themselves once again in the village they had left, and there lay Ombure waiting for them.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘you shall give me maidens. I want two young women each day.’ And so they were forced to offer him maidens, and soon there were very few in the village. Finally, the former chief’s daughter was one of the two presented to Ombure, her skin marked with sandal-wood and her skin gleaming with oil, as Fang brides are today. That evening, both maidens had vanished. But to the people’s surprise, the chief’s daughter returned the next day: she had been spared. Nine months later, she gave birth to a boy and they named him Ngurangurane, son of the crocodile.
Ngurangurane grew prodigiously fast: one day a toddler, the next a child, the third an adolescent, and then a man. He was quickly named chief of the people, and his mother, Alena Kiri, gave him the talisman which had belonged to her father. Ngurangurane was able to make sure it obeyed him and
no other, and from the talisman he learned of arts which might serve his people and which also would fulfil his own two goals: to avenge his mother’s father, and to free his people from the tribute they paid the crocodile.
Ngurangurane discovered palm wine, made from the fermented sap of certain palm trees. He ordered the village to assemble every pot they possessed, and when he had examined the stock he ordered the potters to produce more. Then he led the villagers into the forest, and he scored the bark of selected trees. They left the pots to collect the sap which ran out, and on their return they collected the pots, covered them and set them in Ngurangurane’s hut to ferment.
Meanwhile, Ngurangurane ordered the people to build two large basins of clay at the lake-shore. When the wine had fermented and become heady, he ordered the pots brought from the storeroom and had them emptied into the basins until both were full of fresh palm wine.
The next day Ngurangurane waited in hiding when the crocodile came for his daily meal of maidens. As the monster left the water he saw the basins and smelt the contents. He tasted the liquid and found it good; he emptied the first basin and went to the second. He drank deeply. He emptied the second basin. Then he was drunk, and he forgot the two maidens waiting, trembling, just beyond the basins. His head slipped down and he slept on the lake-shore.
Ngurangurane slipped out of his hiding place and brought ropes; he tied Ombure’s feet, he tethered the great tail, he bound the jaws. Then he fetched his sharpest spear and thrust it as hard as he could into Ombure’s neck, which seemed the softest part. The spear bent and Ombure muttered and twitched, as might a man who had been bitten by a mosquito in his sleep.
Ngurangurane got his heaviest axe and climbed on top of the crocodile. With all his might he swung the blade down against the crocodile’s skull between its eyes. The blade bounced off; the skin was not marked. The crocodile blinked and grunted, but did not wake up.
African Myths of Origin (Penguin Classics) Page 27