African Myths and Folk Tales

by Carter Godwin Woodson

  “Why, elephant, you surely are not going to cross without me? Are we not partners?”

  “Of course we are partners, but I did not agree to carry you or your pack. Why don’t you step right in? The water is not deep, it scarcely covers my feet.”

  “But, you stupid fellow,” said the rabbit, “can you not see that what will scarcely cover your feet is more than enough to drown me, and I can’t swim a bit; and, besides, if I get my fur wet I shall catch the ague, and how ever am I to carry my pack across?”

  “Well, I cannot help that,” replied the elephant. “It was you who proposed to take the journey, and I thought a wise fellow like you would have known that there were rivers running across the road, and that you knew what to do. If you cannot travel, then good-by. I cannot stop here all day,” and the elephant walked on across to the other side.

  “Surly rascal,” muttered the rabbit. “All right, my big friend, I will pay you for it some time.”

  Not far off, however, the rabbit found a log, and after placing his pack on it, he paddled himself over, and reached the other bank safely; but to his grief he found out that his bale had been wetted and damaged.

  The rabbit wiped the water off as much as possible, and resumed the journey with the elephant, which had looked carelessly on the efforts of his friend to cross the river.

  Fortunately for the rabbit, there were no more wide streams to be crossed. The journey did not present such difficulties, and they arrived in due time among the shepherds.

  Now at a trade the elephant was not to be compared with the rabbit, for he could not talk so pleasantly as the rabbit, and he was not at all sociable. The rabbit went among the women, and laughed and joked with them, and said so many funny things, that they were delighted with him, and when at last the question came up, a chief’s wife was so kind to him that she gave a mighty fine cow in exchange for his little bale of cloth.

  The elephant, in the meantime, went among the men, and simply told them that he had come to buy cattle with cloth. The shepherds did not like his appearance or his manner, and said they had no cattle to sell, but if he cared to have it, they would give a year-old heifer for his bale. Though the elephant’s bale was a very heavy one, and many times more valuable than the rabbit’s, yet as he was so gruff and ugly, he was at last obliged to be satisfied with the little heifer.

  Just as they had left the shepherds to return home, the elephant said to the rabbit, “Now mind, should we meet any one on the road, and be asked whose cattle these are, I wish you to oblige me by saying that they are mine, because I should not like people to believe that I am not as good a trader as you are. They will also be afraid to touch them if they know they belong to me; but if they hear they belong to you, every fellow will think he has as good a right to them as you have, and you dare not protect your property.”

  “Very well,” replied the rabbit, “I quite understand.”

  In a little while, as the rabbit and the elephant drove their cattle along, they met many people coming from market, who stopped and admired them, and said, “Ah, what a fine cow is that! to whom does it belong?”

  “It belongs to me,” answered the thin voice of the rabbit. “The little one belongs to that big elephant.”

  “Very fine indeed. A good cow that,” replied the people, and passed on.

  Vexed and annoyed, the elephant cried angrily to the rabbit, “Why did you not answer as I told you? Now mind, do as I tell you at the next meeting with strangers.”

  “Very well,” answered the rabbit, “I will try and remember.”

  By and by they met another party going home with fowls and palm wine, who, when they came up, said, “Ah, that is a fine beast, and in prime order. Whose is it?”

  “It is mine,” quickly replied the rabbit, “and the little scabby heifer belongs to the elephant.”

  The answer enraged the elephant, who said, “What an obstinate little dunce you are! Did you not hear me ask you to say it was mine? Now, remember, you are to say so next time, or I leave you to find your own way home, because I know you are a horrible little coward.”

  “Very well, I’ll try to think of it next time,” replied the rabbit in a meek voice.

  In a short time they met another crowd of people who stopped when opposite to them and said, “Really, that is an exceedingly fine cow. To which of you does it belong?”

  “It is mine. I bought it from the shepherds,” replied the rabbit.

  The elephant was so angry this time that he broke away from the rabbit and drove his little heifer by another road. To the animals in the forest he remarked that a fine fat cow was being driven by the cowardly little rabbit along the other road. He did this out of mere spite, hoping that some one of them would be tempted to take it by force from the rabbit.

  Giving away the Secret

  But the rabbit was wise. He had seen the spite in the elephant’s face as he went off, and was sure that he would play him some unkind trick; and, as night was falling and his home was far, and he knew that there were many vagabonds lying in wait to rob poor travelers, the rabbit knew that if his wit failed to save him he would be in great danger.

  True enough, it was not long before a big blustering lion rose from the side of the road, and cried out, “Hello, you there. Where are you going with that cow? Come, speak out.”

  “Ah, is that you, lion?” said the rabbit. “I am taking it to Mugassa (the deity), who is about to give a feast to all his friends, and he told me particularly to invite you to share it, if I should meet you.”

  “Eh? What? To Mugassa?” inquired the lion. “Oh, well, I am proud to have met you, rabbit. As I am not otherwise engaged I will accompany you, because every one considers it an honor to wait upon Mugassa.”

  They proceeded a little further, and a bouncing buffalo came up and bellowed fiercely, “You, rabbit, stop,” said he. “Where are you taking that cow?”

  “I am taking it to Mugassa, don’t you know? How would a little fellow like me have the courage to go so far from home if it were not that I am in the service of Mugassa? I am charged also to tell you, buffalo, that if you like to join in the feast Mugassa is about to give, he will be glad to have you as a guest.”

  Where are you going with that Cow?

  “Oh, well, that is good news indeed,” said the buffalo. “I will come along now, rabbit, and am very glad to have met you. How do you do, lion?”

  A short distance off the party met a huge rogue elephant, which stood in the middle of the road, and in a tone which required a quick answer, demanded to know where the cow was being taken.

  “Now, elephant, get out of the way,” said the rabbit. “This cow is being taken to Mugassa, who will be angry with you if I am delayed. Have you not heard of the feast he is about to give? By the bye, as you are one of the guests, you might as well help me to drive this cow, and let me get on your back, for I am dreadfully tired.”

  “Why, that’s grand,” said the elephant. “I shall be delighted to feast with Mugassa, and—come, get on my back. I will carry you with pleasure. And, rabbit,” whispered the elephant, as he lifted him by his trunk, “don’t forget to speak a good word for me to Mugassa.”

  All going along to the feast

  Soon a leopard and then a hyena were met, but seeing such a powerful crowd behind the cow, they became very calm, and were invited to accompany the rabbit’s party to Mugassa’s feast.

  It was quite dark by the time they arrived at the rabbit’s village. At the gate stood two dogs which were the rabbit’s chums, and they barked furiously; but hearing their friend’s voice, they came up and welcomed the rabbit.

  The party halted, and the rabbit, after reaching the ground, whispered to the dogs how affairs stood, and the dogs wagged their tails approvingly, and yauped with fun as they heard of the rabbit’s wit. It did not take long for the dogs to understand what was required of them, and one of them returned with a pretended message from the great Mugassa.

  “Well, my friends, do you hear
what Mugassa says?” cried the rabbit, with a voice of importance.

  “The dogs are to lay mats inside the village by the gate, and the cow is to be killed, and the meat prepared nicely and laid on the mats. And when this is done, Mugassa himself will come and give each his portion. He says that you are all very welcome.

  “Now listen to me before I go in to Mugassa, and I will show you how you can all help to hurry the feast, for I am sure you are all anxious to begin.

  “You, hyena, must kill the cow, and dress the meat and the dogs will carry it in and lay it on the mats; but remember, if a bit is touched before Mugassa commands, we are all ruined.

  “You, elephant, must take this brass hatchet of Mugassa’s, and split wood nicely for the hearth.

  “Buffalo, go and find a wood with a smooth bark, which burns well, and bring it to the elephant.

  “Leopard, go to the banana plantation, and watch for the falling leaf and catch it with your eyelids, in order that we may have proper plates.

  “Lion, my friend, go and fill this pot from the spring, and bring water that Mugassa may wash his hands.”

  Having issued his instructions, rabbit went strutting into the village; but after he had gone a little way he darted aside, and passing through a side door, went out and crept toward an ant hill. On the top was a tuft of grass, and from his hiding-place he commanded a view of the gate, and of all who might come near it.

  Now the buffalo could find only one log with smooth bark, and the dogs shouted out to the buffalo that one log was not enough to roast or to boil the meat, and he returned to hunt up some more.

  The elephant struck the log with his brass hatchet, which was broken at the first blow, and there was nothing else with which to cut the wood.

  The leopard watched and watched for falling leaves but failed to see any.

  The lion’s pot had a hole in the bottom, and he could never keep it full, though he tried ever so many times.

  Meanwhile, the hyena having killed the cow and dressed the meat beautifully, said to the dogs, “Now, my friends, the meat is ready. What shall I do?”

  “You can help us carry the meat in, and lay it on the mats, if you like, for Mugassa must see it before anybody can touch it.”

  “Ah, but I feel extremely hungry, and my mouth waters so that I am sick with longing. May we not go shares and eat a little bit? It looks very nice and fat,” whined the hyena.

  “Ah, no, we should not dare do such a thing. We have long ago left the woods, and its habits, and are unfit for anything but human society; but if you were allowed to eat any, you could fly into the woods, and we should have all the blame. No, no, come, help us carry it inside. You will not have to wait long.”

  The hyena was obliged to obey, but contrived to hide in the grass some of the tripe. The rabbit, from behind his tuft of grass, saw it all, and winked in the dark.

  When the meat was in, the dogs said, “It is all right now. Just stay outside until the other fellows arrive.”

  The hyena retired, and when he was outside of the gate searched for his tripe, and lay down quietly to enjoy it, but as he was about to bite it, the rabbit screamed, “Ah, you thief, hyena. You thief, I see you. Stop, thief, Mugassa is coming!”

  These cries so alarmed the hyena that he dropped his tripe, and fled away as fast as his legs could carry him, and the others, the buffalo, elephant, lion, and leopard, tired out with waiting, and hearing these alarming cries, also ran away, leaving the rabbit and his dog friends in quiet possession. They carried the tripe into the village, and closed the gate and barred it, after which they laughed loud and long, the rabbit rolling on the ground over and over with the fun of it all.

  The rabbit was the smallest of all, but by his wisdom he was more than a match for two elephants, the buffalo, the leopard, the lion, the hyena, and all. And even his friends, the dogs, had to confess that the rabbit’s wit could not be matched.

  Thoughts of Africans

  There are three friends in this world—courage, sense, and insight.

  A person prepared beforehand is better than after reflection.

  The day on which one starts is not the time to commence one’s preparation.

  Lack of knowledge is darker than night.

  An ignorant man is always a slave.

  Whoever works without knowledge works uselessly.

  Trade is not something imaginary or descriptive, but something real and profitable.

  Three Rival Brothers

  Three brothers took a walk. They stopped at a town and fell in love with the king’s daughter, and each wanted to marry her.

  The king told them that he would give her to the one who brought him a servant. So they started out in search of a servant and traveled many days into strange lands.

  Each one of the brothers had something with which he could do wonders. One of the brothers had a glass into which he could look and find out each day everything that had happened in the town he had passed. One of the others had a hammock into which one might sit, and be carried anywhere he wished to go. The third brother had some medicine with which he could raise the dead if they had not been dead more than three days.

  After they had walked two weeks in search of a servant one morning the brother with the glass looked into it and found out that the king’s daughter was dead, and that she had died on the third day before. He told the other brothers the sad news.

  The brother with the medicine said that he could restore her to life if he could reach the town on that very day, before the third day had ended, but that they were more than two weeks’ walk to the town.

  The other brother said:

  “That is all right. Come, get into my hammock.”

  Three Rivals standing over the dead Daughter

  They all sat down and in a few moments they were in the town.

  They went to the king and asked what was the news.

  “Nothing,” said the king, “except that my daughter you all love is dead, having died three days ago today.”

  The brother with the medicine asked the king what he would give him, if he restored his daughter to life? The king promised him the daughter and all his wealth. The daughter was immediately raised from the dead with the medicine, and the brother who had the medicine claimed the daughter.

  The brother who had the glass claimed her because, as he said, “But for my finding out that she was dead we would not have known that she was dead in time to restore her.”

  “She belongs to me,” said the brother with the hammock, “for although you knew she was dead we were two weeks’ walk away, and but for my hammock we could never have reached here with your medicine before the third day closed.”

  The Judge walked away.

  Unable to agree, the brothers began to disturb the peace. The people came and tried to persuade them to settle the trouble quietly but they refused to listen to their advice. The whole matter was then taken to the judge. After patiently listening to what the father and three brothers had to say, the judge was unable to decide the case. He turned it over to the people and walked away saying, “This question is too difficult for me.” The people were never able to decide the case.

  To which one of the brothers did the daughter belong?

  The Legend of Ngurangurane

  There was in the olden times—it is a long time since that, quite a long time—a very great magician, and it was Ngurangurane, the son of the Crocodile.

  And here is how he was born, that is the first thing: what he did and how he died, that is the second. To tell all his actions it is impossible, and, besides, who would remember them?

  Here is how he was born, that is the first thing.

  At that time, the Fangs were living on the bank of a large river, large, so large that one could not see the other side; they used to fish from the border. But they did not go on the river; no one yet had taught them how to build canoes: he who taught it to them, it was Ngurangurane. Ngurangurane taught this art to the men of his family, and, his
family, they were the men, they were the Fangs.

  In the river lived an enormous crocodile, the master crocodile; his head was longer than this cabin, his eyes were bigger than a whole kid, his teeth could cut a man in two as one cuts a banana. He was covered with enormous scales: a man could strike him with his javelins, too, but, pfat, the javelin fell back; and he who did thus he could be the most robust man: pfut, the javelin fell back. It was a terrible animal.

  Now, one day, he came into the village of Ngurangurane; but this one was not yet born. And the one who was commanding the Fangs was a great chief, and he commanded many men. He commanded the Fangs and others besides. Ngan Esa, the master crocodile, came then one day into the village of the Fangs and he called the chief: “Chief, I call you.”

  The chief hastened at once. And the crocodile chief said to the man chief: “Listen attentively.”

  And the man chief answered: “Ears” (that is to say, I listen well).

  The Crocodile calls for toll.

  “What you shall do from today on, this is it. Each day I am hungry, and I think that the flesh of the man is better for me than the flesh of the fish. Each day, you shall bind a slave and you shall bring it for me on the bank of the river, a man one day, a woman the next day, and, on the first day of each moon, a young girl well painted with baza and all shining with grease. You shall do thus. If you dare to disobey me, I shall eat your whole village. There! This is ended. Speak not.”

  And the crocodile chief, without adding a word, returned to the river. And in the village, they began mournful lamentations. And each one said: “I am dead.” Each one said it, the chief, the men, the women. The next day, in the morning, when the sun rose, the crocodile chief was on the bank of the river. “Wah! Wah!” his mouth was enormous, longer than this cabin, his eyes were large like a whole kid. The crocodiles that you see today are not crocodiles any more! And they hastened to bring to the crocodile chief that which he had asked, a man one day, a woman the next day and, on the first day of each moon, a young girl painted with red and all shining with grease. They did that which the crocodile chief had ordered, and none dared disobey, for he had everywhere his warriors, the other crocodiles.