African Myths and Legends

by Dianne Stewart

  ‘I’ll go tonight,’ she said. ‘When the sun has set behind the western hills.’

  ‘Go at once, Tanga!’ he said sternly.

  Obediently, Tanga handed her baby to her helper, Nono, and sobbing bitterly, she made her way to the river in the blinding light of the sun. She sat on the river bank and leant over the water with her ladle. As she was drawing water, she felt the ladle slip from her hands and fall deep down into the muddy depths of the river.

  ‘I’ll try the water-jar,’ she said aloud, reaching out over the water. As soon as the jar went into the water, it also slipped form her hands and fell down, down, down. She then used the corner of her cloak, but that also fell down down into the murky water – and this time she fell down with it.

  Jebe waited and waited for his daughter-in-law, Tanga, to return with his water. He sent Nono to look for her, but all she could see were Tanga’s footprints in the wet mud beside the water.

  ‘Oh! I have been selfish and self-willed,’ Jebe cried. ‘Look what I’ve done!’ He looked sadly at Tanga’s baby who cried and cried. Nothing could soothe him.

  ‘I know what I’ll do,’ Jebe said. ‘I’ll drive the cow that Tanga brought with her to the river, slaughter it and offer it to the river in exchange for Tanga.’

  So he went down to the water, and as he did this he cried: ‘Take this rather than our beautiful Tanga.’

  Nothing happened. The river flowed on as before. But then he thought he heard a whisper: ‘Tell my parents that the river has taken me.’

  Jebe was very worried. He could never confess to Tanga’s parents what had happened. That night Jebe fell into a troubled sleep. The baby would not settle without his mother, so Nono took the child out so that he would not disturb everyone. She walked by the river singing:

  Daughter of the moonlight,

  Your child cries all night.

  Suddenly the waters of the river seemed to part and Tanga came to take her child. She comforted him until the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon. But Tanga warned Nono:

  ‘Never tell anyone the secret. Say that the child has grown strong and healthy by eating berries.’

  So Nono crept quietly back to the hut with the child strapped to her back.

  For three nights the same thing happened, until it was time for Mpunzi to return from his hunting trip. He returned home happy, laden with fresh meat for his family. He was very angry when he heard the news of his wife, but was relieved to see his son looking healthy and strong.

  ‘What has this boy been eating?’ he asked Nono.

  ‘Berries,’ said Nono hesitantly.

  ‘Go and get some,’ said Mpunzi.

  But when the child was given the fruit to eat, he refused to take it and Nono was forced to tell Mpunzi the puzzling truth. That night Mpunzi and his friends went to the river by moonlight. He tied a rope around his waist and hid near the river, while his friends took the other end of the rope and hid behind some rocks.

  Nono walked up and down the river bank with the baby and sang her song:

  Daughter of the moonlight,

  Your child cries all night.

  As usual, Tanga appeared and took the child from her loyal helper. Mpunzi leapt up and grabbed them both. His friends pulled on the rope and tried to haul them up the bank, but the river rose up and flowed over its banks. The men were afraid of a flood so they dropped the rope and fled. Then the high waters of the river went down and Tanga disappeared once again.

  When Mpunzi returned home, his father, Jebe, confessed that he had not sent the message to Tanga’s parents. So Mpunzi asked his ox to take the message, but he would not move. He asked his dog, but the dog just barked. Only the cock would agree to take the message.

  When Tanga’s father received the news, he drove a fat ox back to Tanga’s new home, with the cock perched on its back all the way home.

  Again that night they offered a sacrifice on the bank of the river. Nono walked up and down with the child, singing the song.

  When Tanga appeared, her parents took her by the hand, led her out of the water and gave her to Mpunzi. The river rose a little, then subsided and then flowed as smoothly as before.

  Jebe learnt a great deal from his experience and was content to accept the fact that his daughter-inlaw would never be anyone other than a daughter of the moonlight.

  The wedding Gift

  The traditional Xhosa bride left her own family and lived with her husband’s mother and father after her marriage. She was expected to work hard and obey certain rules in the home of her new parents-in-law. After some time, her husband built a home of his own with the help of the other men and women in the community. At the time of her marriage, the bride’s father gave her a cow which she took with her to her new home and it was her’s to keep. When the original cow became too old to be of any use, one of its calves took its place.

  The two sisters of the Maluti Mountains

  SOTHO

  Chief Bulane, his wife and two treasured daughters lived in the foothills of the Maluti Mountains. Everywhere they went, people marvelled at the girls’ astonishing beauty and they were considered the most beautiful throughout the mountain kingdom.

  Chief Bulane was also very proud of his magnificent cattle which grew fat on millet and increased in number every year.

  One day, the elder daughter said: ‘I would like to taste some millet.’

  ‘No,’ said her father. ‘It is the cows’ food.’

  ‘You know that we don’t eat millet,’ said the girls’ mother. ‘On no occasion should you eat it.’

  But the next morning when they were left alone, the headstrong elder daughter ground some of the millet kernels on a stone and then boiled them in a pot over the fire.

  Hunger gnawed at her tummy and before the millet porridge was even cooked, she took some for herself and gave some to her sister to taste. ‘It’s so delicious,’ she said, sampling the porridge.

  Suddenly the girls noticed that the millet porridge was boiling over. It bubbled and bubbled – right out of the pot and onto the floor, and they could do nothing to stop it.

  The younger daughter scolded her sister, saying: ‘Now you know why our parents did not want us to cook this millet. They will be very angry with us when they return.’

  The elder sister was terrified.

  ‘I will run away,’ she said. Hastily, she threw her blanket around her around her shoulders and fled. As she ran, the rocky ridges of the Maluti Mountains rose up to a brilliant blue sky which was untouched by a single cloud. She ran across the dusty footpaths in the heat of the searing sun as fast as a guinea fowl, not daring to look back. Her heart beat as fast as the streams that flow after the snow has melted on the mountain tops.

  Suddenly, a dark shadow loomed across the path in front of her. She was so afraid that she fell to the ground, covering herself with her blanket.

  Then she saw that it was Black Eagle, the mighty and powerful bird whom the mountain people called Mothemelle. Although his feathers were as black as a moonless night, the young girl remembered that he was known to be kind and gentle. She cried out:

  Bird of the mountains, please rescue me.

  Our parents told us not to cook millet

  as it is cattle feed, but we did not listen.

  Help me, Mothemelle.

  And so the great black eagle swooped down, clasped the young girl firmly in his strong talons and lifted her up, up, up as he climbed the valley that led towards the very top of the mountains. There he placed her gently on the soft grass in a quiet and lonely place where there were no people. Then the great bird flew away.

  The girl was heartbroken at being stranded in a strange place, but when she looked up she noticed smoke rising gently in the distance. She ran towards it and, on the other side of a small clump of trees she found a group of men cooking meat over a fire. She tried to hide behind a tree but one of the men, Masilo, got up and shouted: ‘There is the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen. Catch her quickl
y before she disappears!’

  But his companions just stared at him in amazement. Although he could certainly hear, Masilo had, up until that very moment, never spoken a word in his life.

  After giving her food, Masilo took Bulane’s daughter to meet his father who was a chief. Masilo’s father was so pleased to hear his son speak that he gave permission for their marriage.

  Masilo and his beautiful wife lived happily in their village and had two children. After the birth of their second child, Masilo’s wife asked her father-in-law if she may visit her family.

  They journeyed for many days until at last they could see Chief Bulane’s village in the distance. The girl, dressed in her fine new skin blanket and beads, ran to greet her parents. She was relieved to find that her parents had forgiven her and they received her with kindness and great joy.

  ‘See what Masilo’s father has given you as a bride-price, Father,’ she said, presenting her father with forty head of cattle.

  ‘And these are the gifts we have brought for you,’ said Masilo as he offered his mother-in-law a fine long blanket made from jackal skins, and clay pots and sleeping mats.

  The daughter’s homecoming brought great rejoicing. Sheep were slaughtered and there was great celebration amongst the people. Then it was time for Chief Bulane’s daughter to return to the home of her husband.

  Her parents were sad that their beloved daughter lived so far away, but there was one person who was very pleased indeed. Chief Bulane’s younger daughter. Jealousy boiled inside her like the millet that boiled and boiled and wouldn’t stop. She had heard about the beautiful black eagle that had led her sister to a handsome husband, and she wanted the same for herself.

  In her anger she ran away and took the well-worn path along the foothills that join the Maluti Mountains before they rise up to reach the sky. As she was running with the dust swirling at her feet, she saw a large shadow ahead of her on the path. She looked up and, recognising the great bird, she cried out as her sister had done:

  ‘Bird of the mountains, please rescue me.

  Our parents told us not to cook millet

  as it is cattle feed, but we did not listen.

  Help me, Mothemelle.’

  But Black Eagle scolded her.

  ‘Younger daughter of Bulane, it is not millet that has caused you anxiety, it is jealousy. It never stops boiling inside you. You cannot escape it. It is with you wherever you go.’

  With outstretched arms, she begged and begged the mountain bird to take her with him.

  Then the bird, who had been hovering above her, shutting out the sun, swooped down and snatched her up, taking her into the blue heights above the rugged mountains.

  Excitement grew inside the girl as they soared high above the valley. Below were her father’s cattle like grains of sand on the dusty scrubland. She couldn’t wait to reach the place where her sister lived.

  Suddenly the black eagle dropped to the ground, released the grip of his sharp talons and left her in a quiet, lonely place not far from a little lake.

  The girl could hear Mothemelle in the distance and screamed out to the black eagle: ‘Mothemelle, Mothemelle, take me home.’

  But the eagle was on his way home to his nest on a rocky ridge in the Maluti Mountains and he ignored her desperate cries for help.

  Distraught and afraid, the young girl ran along the river that flowed from the little lake, searching for a place where she could cross it. After three long days, she found a tree trunk that bridged the water and crossed to the other side.

  As she walked through the long grass on the water’s edge, she thought to herself: ‘That big black bird of the mountains has brought me trouble. I’ll have him killed.’

  But then she came across the village of her mother’s brother and his wife. They welcomed her, and her vengeful thoughts were lost for a while.

  ‘This girl’s father should have found her a husband,’ said her uncle. ‘Now we shall have to find a man for this beautiful young girl.’

  When her uncle found her a husband, Chief Bulane’s younger daughter would not look at him.

  ‘He’s so ugly,’ she shouted. ‘My sister’s husband is very handsome.’

  And the next man was too old. ‘My sister’s husband is young,’ snapped the young girl. No man seemed good enough. Eventually her uncle said angrily to her: ‘You think that no man is fit to be your husband, away with you!’

  And so the young girl fled her uncle’s village and in her distress she cried out to Black Eagle: ‘Mothemelle, Mothemelle, take me home, take me home.’

  But the black eagle of the mountains did not come. So she walked for many, many days until she reached her home, exhausted.

  Chief Bulane welcomed his daughter and gave her food and fine clothes to wear. ‘There is a man who wishes to marry you,’ he told his daughter.

  ‘Will he give you forty cows?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said her father.

  ‘And fine clothes and beads for me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chief Bulane.

  ‘And a jackal skin blanket?’

  ‘Yes,’ said her father.

  ‘Then I will marry him,’ said the young girl. ‘But Mothemelle, the great black bird of the mountains has caused me great pain. He must be killed. Only then will I marry.’

  So Mothemelle, the great black bird with the kind heart, was killed, and when jealousy brewed again in the young girl’s heart, like bubbling millet, the bird was not around to see it.

  The Mountain Kingdom

  Once known as Basutoland, Lesotho, surrounded by majestic mountains, is the traditional home of the Sotho people of Southern Africa. It is one of the smallest countries in Africa, and most of Lesotho’s towns, including Maseru, its capital, are situated in the lowlands to the west of the country. To the east of the lowlands, lie the often inaccessible Maluti Mountains or Highlands which cover two-thirds of Lesotho. This area rises more as it continues eastward, ending in the magnificent Drakensberg Mountains which are often snow-capped. And, perhaps because much of this beautiful land is so mountainous, many rural folk still use the tough little Basuto ponies as a means of transport.

  Jackal and the trusting lion

  XHOSA

  ‘Ah, ha!’ said Jackal, leaving his den on the top of a rocky outcrop. ‘There’s Lion. It looks as though he’s out hunting. A good time for some fun and games …’ Jackal thought as he clambered down the rockface.

  Quietly, Jackal slinked behind Lion, imitating the bushy-maned Lion’s cat-like walk as he ambled through the long grass.

  Suddenly Lion roared and caught black-backed Jackal so by surprise that he stopped dead in his tracks. Lion swung around quickly and said: ‘Oh! It’s YOU again, Jackal!’

  Jackal took a few timid steps backwards. ‘Food is scarce, Lion, and I have four young pups at home who are s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g!’

  Lion felt sorry for Jackal and said: ‘Come and hunt with me, Jackal. If we catch a small buck you can have it. But if we take a large antelope, it’s mine.’

  ‘Agreed,’ yapped Jackal.

  So Lion and Jackal went hunting together, Jackal trotting a few steps behind Lion.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Jackal, spotting movement in the trees ahead. ‘Eland’ whispered Lion, stopping to observe the buck. They could see Eland’s short spiral horns through a gap in the tree’s foliage as the buck tore leaves from the branches.

  Lion stalked his prey, crouching low in the under-growth, and then leapt into action. He took the eland with some ease, and then, standing proudly over his victim, turned to Jackal and said: ‘Go home and tell my cubs to come and eat, Jackal. I’ll continue hunting in the meantime.’

  ‘Alright,’ grumbled Jackal, slinking rather reluctantly off into the bush.

  He kept glancing over his shoulder and when he saw Lion disappear over the hill, he changed direction and crept off to his own den.

  ‘My family is starving,’ wailed Jackal as he climbed the rocks. ‘I’d be a fool no
t to tell my own hungry pups about it.’

  ‘Children,’ cried Jackal, ‘I have made a wonderful kill. Come and get all the spoils I have left for you.’

  Back in the bush, Jackal kept guard while his little pups took the meat home. Carefully they climbed back up to their home among the rocks. Although Lion continued to hunt that day, Jackal didn’t see him again. When Jackal grew tired of waiting for him, he went home to find his pups full and satisfied.

  Later that day, Lion returned home and found that his cubs had been lulled to sleep by the warm afternoon sun. As soon as he lay down in the shade beside them, they woke up.

  ‘Children, did Jackal come and tell you to go and get the eland meat?’

  ‘No,’ said the children, ‘And we are s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g!’

  Lion was furious. He stood up, left his family and ran towards Jackal’s den. When he crossed the little stream near Jackal’s house, he could hear the young jackal cubs yelling and frolicking in their home on the top of the rocks.

  He tried to climb the rock up to the den, but the jackal pups threw rocks down at him. His paws couldn’t grip the smooth rock and he kept slipping. ‘I’ll wait in the bushes beside the stream,’ thought Lion. ‘Sooner or later Jackal will want a drink.’

  But the sun was hot, and Lion began to doze. He did not see Jackal as he approached the stream. But Jackal saw Lion partly hidden among the reeds and immediately turned tail and ran. The swish of his feet in the long, dry grass woke Lion and he quickly leapt up and gave chase.

  ‘Rascal!’ cried Lion. ‘Why didn’t you tell my cubs …’

  But Jackal heard no more. Seeing a small hole under a tree, Jackal crouched down low, dived into it headfirst and was almost clear when Lion caught up with him. He grabbed the end of Jackal’s strong black tail and pulled it as hard as he could.