And the name of this crocodile, it was Ombure: the waters were obeying Ombure, the forests were obeying Ombure, his “men” were everywhere, he was master of the forest, but he was above all master of the water. And, each day, he ate either a man, or a woman, and he was very pleased and very friendly to the Fangs. But these, finally, had given all their slaves and, to buy some, the chief had handed over all his riches. He had not one coffer left, not one elephant tooth! He had to give a man, a Fang man! And the chief of the Fangs gathered all his people in the common cabin; he spoke to them a long, long time, and after him the other warriors spoke also a long time. When the conference was ended, every one agreed and thought with one heart that they should depart. The chief then said: “Now this question of departure is settled: we shall go far, far from here, beyond the mountains. When we shall be far, very far from the river, beyond the mountains, Ombure will not be able to reach us, and we shall be happy.”
And it was decided that they would not renew the plantings, and that at the end of the season the whole tribe would leave the banks of the river. And thus it was done.
Carried away by the Crocodile
At the beginning of the dry season, when the waters are low, and traveling is good, the tribe started to march. The first day, they went quickly, quickly, as quickly as they could. Each man hurried his women, and the women, quickening their pace, marched in silence, bending under the load of the provisions and the household utensils, because they were carrying away everything, pots, dishes, pestles, baskets, swords and hoes, everything; each woman had her load and she had it heavy. She had it heavy because, with all that, they had also dried some manioc and carried it away. She had it heavy, because she had also to carry the children, the little ones who could not walk and those who were beginning to walk.
And they had to be silent: the men were silent, the women were silent, and the children were crying, but the mothers said: “Be quiet.” The great chief was at the head: he led the march, for it was he who knew the country the best: he often had been hunting, and around his neck he wore a necklace of a big monkey’s teeth.
He was indeed a great hunter.
On the first day, many looked behind them, they thought they heard the crocodile: Wah! Wah! And he who was at the end felt cold in his heart! But they heard nothing. And on the second day, the march was the same, and they heard nothing. And on the third day, the march was the same, and they heard nothing.
On the first day, however, the crocodile chief had come out of the water, according to his habit, in order to come to the place where he used to find the slave who had been destined for him. He comes: “Wah! Wah!” Nothing. What is this? He takes at once the road to the village.
“Chief of the men, I call you.”
Nothing! He hears no noise; he enters; all the cabins are abandoned: “Wah! Wah!” he goes through all the villages, all the villages are abandoned; he goes through all the plantations, all the plantations are abandoned.
Ombure then flies into a terrible rage and dives again into the river to consult his fetish, and he sings:
You who command to the waters, spirits of the waters,
All you who obey me, it is I who call to you,
Come, come to the call of your master,
Answer without delay, answer immediately.
I shall send the lightning which flashes through the sky,
I shall send the thunder which breaks all on his path,
I shall send the wind of the tempest that tears down the banana trees.
I shall send the storm which falls from the clouds and sweeps everything in front of him.
And all will answer to the voice of their master.
All you who obey me, show me the road,
The road which those who have fled have taken.
Spirits of the waters, answer.
But to his great surprise, the spirits of the waters do not answer, not a single one answers!
What then had happened? This. Before leaving his village, the chief of the men had offered great sacrifices. He had offered a great sacrifice to the spirits of the waters, asking them to remain mute and they had promised. They had promised: “We will say nothing.”
Ombure begins again a conjuration, a stronger one still:
You who command to the waters, spirits of the waters,
All you who obey me, it is I who call you. . . .
And the spirits of the waters, forced to obey, appear before Ombure:
“Where are the men, have they used your roads?” “We have seen nothing, they have not used our roads,” (And Ombure says: “They have not used the roads of the waters: the spirits of the waters could not disobey me.”)
And he calls the spirits of the forests:
You who command to the forests, spirits of the forests,
All you who obey me, it is I who call to you,
Come, come to the call of your master,
Answer without delay, answer immediately.
I shall send the lightning that flashes through the sky.
I shall send the thunder which breaks all on his path,
I shall send the wind of the tempest which tears down the banana trees,
I shall send the storm which falls from the clouds and sweeps everything in front of him.
And all will answer to the voice of their master.
All you who obey me, show me the road,
The road which those who have fled have taken,
Spirits of the forests, answer.
But, to his great surprise, of all the spirits of the forests, not one spirit answers, all are silent.
What then had happened? This. Before leaving his village, the chief of the men had offered great sacrifice to the spirits of the forests, asking them to remain mute, and they had promised: “We will say nothing.”
Ombure began again a conjuration, a stronger one still:
You who command to the forests, spirits of the forests,
All you who obey me, it is I who call you.
And the spirits of the forests, forced to obey, appear before Ombure. “Where are the men, have they passed through your roads?”
And the spirits of the forests answer: “They have not passed through our roads.”
And, successively, Ombure calls the spirits of the day, the spirits of the night, and, thanks to them, he knows the road which the Fangs have taken.
They have told him the news!
And when Ombure had ended his enchantment, he knew the road which the fugitive Fangs had taken. These had concealed their path in vain. Ombure knew their road. Who had told it to him? The lightning, the wind, the storm had told it to him; the lightning, the wind and the storm.
The Fangs continued their march for a long time, a very long time. They crossed the mountains, and the great chief consulted his fetish:
“Shall we stop here?”
And the fetish, who, since a long time, since the first day, was obeying the orders of Ombure (but this the chief did not know), the fetish answered, “No, you shall not stop here, this is not a good place.”
They crossed the plains, and when they had crossed the plains and had found again the great forest, the forest that never ends, the great chief consulted his fetish, “Shall we stop here?”
And the fetish, once more, answered, “Further yet.”
They arrived finally in a great plain, in front of a great lake which closed all passage, and the great chief consulted his fetish, “Shall we stop here?”
And the fetish who obeyed Ombure answered, “Yes, you shall stop here.”
And the Fangs had walked many days and many moons. The little children had become youths, the youths had become young warriors and the young warriors, matured men. They had walked many days and many moons. They stopped on the banks of the lake. They built new villages, plantings were made and everywhere the corn gave its new yield. The chief then gathered his men in order to give a name to the village, and they called it Akurengan (Deliverance-from-the Crocodile).
And he returned toward the lake.
The trembling warriors chose at once another chief, the brother of the last one, according to the law; and, in the morning, they took the wife of the last chief and they bound her on the bank of the lake, as an offering to Ombure. And he came; the woman was crying. Kro, Kro! he ate her. But, in the evening, he came back to the village and called the chief:
“Chief, I call you.”
And this one, trembling, answered, “I listen.”
“This is what I command to you, I, Ombure, and you shall do it. Every day, you shall bring two men, one man in the morning, one man in the evening, and the next day, you shall bring me two women, one woman in the morning and one woman in the evening. And on the first day of each moon, two young girls painted with red and shining with oil. Go, this is I, Ombure, the king of the forest; this is I, Ombure, the king of the waters.”
And thus they did during many years. Each morning, each evening, Ombure had his meal: two men one day, two women the next day and two young girls on the first day of the month. Thus it happened for a long time. In order to pay Ombure, the Fangs made war far, far away. And everywhere they were the victors, because Ombure, the crocodile chief, protected them, and they became great warriors.
But the years passed, one after the other, and for a long time the Fangs had renewed their plantings. And they were tired of Ombure.
And they had forgotten. And the young men said: “We are tired, let us leave.” And the young men left in front, the warriors followed, and the women carried the bundles after the warriors.
The Crocodile in the village
The next morning Ombure came on the bank of the lake to seek his daily food, as was his habit. He looks, he searches. Nothing. He comes to the village. Nothing. What does he do? He takes his fetish and calls at once the spirits of the forest.
“This is what commands to you, Ombure, your master,” he says to them: “My slaves have fled, they are in your domain, let all passages close in front of them. Wind of the storm, break the trees in front of them; spirit of the thunder, spirit of the lightning, blind their eyes! Go, it is Ombure who commands you.”
And they go. The roads close in front of the Fangs, the big trees fall, darkness invades everything. In despair, they have to return to the lake, and there Ombure awaits them. But Ombure is old; instead of two men, he now demands, “You shall give me each day two young girls as a sacrifice.”
And the Fangs had to obey and each day had to bring two young girls to Ombure, two young girls painted with red and shining and rubbed with oil. It is their wedding festival.
They cry and mourn, the daughters of the Fangs; they cry and mourn; it is the festival of the sad betrothing.
They cry and mourn in the evening; in the morning, they do not cry nor do they mourn: their mothers do not hear from them any more: they are at the bottom of the lake, in the grotto where Ombure lives. They serve him, and he makes his food of them.
But one day, there happened this: The young girl who had to be taken to the bank of the river that evening; the young girl whose turn had come, it was Alena-Kiri, the child of the chief. She was young and she was beautiful. And, in the evening, she was bound on the bank of the lake, with her companion. The companion did not return, but the next day, when daylight appeared again, the chief’s daughter was still there. Ombure had spared her.
Therefore they called her: “Dawn has come.”
But nine months later, the chief’s daughter had a child, she had a son. In remembrance of his birth, this boy was named Ngurangurane, the son of the crocodile.
Ngurangurane was then the Son of Ombure, the crocodile chief: this is the first story. Ngurangurane was thus born.
Here is the second story: the death of Ombure.
Ngurangurane, the child of the crocodile Ombure and the chief’s daughter, grew, grew, grew, each day. From a child, he became a youth, from a youth he became a young man. He is then the chief of his people. He is a powerful chief and a very learned magician. In his heart he had two desires: to avenge the death of the chief of his race, his mother’s father, and to free his people from the tribute which the crocodile exacted.
To attain this end, here is what he did:
In the forest there is a sacred tree, this you know; and this tree they call it “palm tree.” Cut a palm tree: the sap flows, flows abundantly, and if you wait two or three days, after having enclosed it in earthen vessels, you will have the dzan, the drink that makes the heart happy. This, we know it now, but our fathers did not know it. He taught it to them, it was Ngurangurane, and the first one who drank the dzan it is Ombure, the crocodile chief. Who taught Ngurangurane about the dzan? It was Ngonomane, the fetish stone which his mother had given him.
Now, following Ngonomane’s advice, Ngurangurane did thus:
“Take all the earthen vessels that you possess, all of them, bring them into my cabin.”
He said that to the women: they brought then all the earthen vessels they possessed, and there were many and many of them.
“Go, all, into the forest,” he said to them again, “near the brook with the clay and make more vessels yet.”
And they went to the brook with the clay and made some vessels, many of them.
“Let us go into the forest,” he said to the men. “Let us go and you will cut the trees that I shall show to you.”
And they went, all together, with hatchets and with knives, and they cut the trees which Ngurangurane showed them. These trees, they were palm trees. And when they were all cut, they collected the sap which was flowing abundantly from the wounds. The vessels were brought (the women did that), the old vessels and the new ones, and when all were there they filled them with the dzan, and the women carried them back to the village. Every day, Ngurangurane tasted the liquor; the men wanted to do like him, but this he forbid them by a great eki.
A man said, “Since Ngurangurane drinks of it, I shall drink of it.”
And he drank of it, but in secret, and it went to his head. Ngurangurane came near him and killed him with a gun shot.
Three days later, Ngurangurane gathered his men, the men and the women, and said to them: “This is the time, take the vessels and come with me to the bank, near the lake.” They took the vessels and went with him. When they were on the bank of the lake, Ngurangurane ordered this to his men: “Bring on the bank all the vessels.” And they did it. “Bring the clay for which I sent you,” he said to the women, and thus they did. And, on the bank of the lake, with the soft clay they built two large basins, carefully beaten with the feet, carefully smoothed with the palm of the hands. Then, into the two basins they pour all the dzan that was contained in the vessels, without leaving one drop; Ngurangurane begins a great fetish, and they break then all the vessels, and they throw them into the lake. They bind the two captives near the basins and every one goes back to the village.
Ngurangurane stays alone, hidden near the basins.
At the usual hour, the crocodile comes out of the water. He goes toward the captives who were trembling with fear; but, first of all:
“What is this?” he says as he comes near the basins. “What is this?”
He tastes a little of the liquid. The liquor seems good to him and he cries aloud: “This is good; from tomorrow on I shall order the Fangs to give me some of it every day.”
And Ombure, the crocodile, drank the dzan. He drank it to the last drop, forgetting the captives. When he had finished, he sang:
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br /> I have drunk the dzan, the liquor which brings joy to the heart:
I have drunk the dzan,
I have drunk the dzan, my heart is rejoicing,
I have drunk the dzan.
The master whom all obey, it is I,
I, the great chief, I, Ombure.
It is I, Ngan, I am the master.
Ombure is master of the waters,
Ombure is master of the forests.
It is I, the master whom all obey.
I am the master.
I have drunk the dzan, the liquor which brings joy to the heart;
I have drunk the dzan.
I have drunk the dzan, my heart rejoices;
I have drunk the dzan.
He sings, and on the sand, forgetting the captives, he falls asleep, joy in his heart.
Ngurangurane at once comes near Ombure asleep; with a strong rope, and helped by the captives, he binds him to the post, then brandishing with force his javelin, he strikes the sleeping animal; on the thick scales, the javelin bounces back without touching the crocodile, and this one, still asleep, shakes himself and says: “What is this? a mosquito has bitten me.”
Ngurangurane takes his hatchet, his strong stone hatchet; with an immense blow he strikes the sleeping animal: the hatchet bounces back without wounding the animal; this one begins to move: the two captives, terrified run away. Ngurangurane makes then a powerful fetish: “Thunder,” he says, “thunder, it is you whom I call, bring me your arrows.”
African Myths and Folk Tales Page 11