Tales from Africa

by K. P. Kojo

  ‘Ho,’ laughed Lion. ‘That’s great. You can help me by carrying this zebra. Come with me and eat with the lions.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Come with me.’

  Jackal picked up the zebra and followed Lion. He was happy to have company. If only the jackals who said Lion was only using him could see him now. He was going to eat like a lion – juicy zebra meat to fill his belly. He was going to eat at the lion homestead. Jackal had a smile as wide as the moon.

  When Lion’s wife served the zebra, she placed large chunks of flesh in front of Lion and all six of his cubs. Jackal’s mouth watered as she came to him. His portion seemed as big as Lion’s and Jackal shuffled to make space for it in front of him as she set it down. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the feast of flesh and fat, but when he opened them he saw that she had put three huge knots of entrails in front of him.

  Jackal glared at Lion, who was already licking his lips after his first morsel. ‘I thought you said I would eat like a lion.’

  Lion growled. ‘Don’t interrupt me when I’m eating! You are sitting with lions, aren’t you?’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Arghh,’ roared Lion. ‘Don’t try my patience. I’ve told you before, flesh and fat are not good for jackals. Entrails are what you like and they are good for you.’

  Jackal shut his mouth. He realized his mother had been right all along. Lion would never be good at sharing. First he, Jackal, found the prey, then Lion jumped off his back to make the kill, and it was he who had even carried the zebra home for Lion today – but still his friend would not share. Now Lion was telling him what jackals liked to eat. How cheeky! Does a lion know what a jackal’s stomach feels like? Has a lion ever spent a day in a jackal’s skin?

  On their next few hunts, Jackal noticed that Lion stopped carrying the meat altogether and instead spent time playfully chasing pheasants and guinea fowls, and rollicking in shallow ponds and clumps of ticklish dwarf grass. Jackal often had to wait for Lion to catch up. Still, when they got back to Lion’s homestead, everyone would have the tastiest chunks of the flesh and fat that Jackal had carried, while Jackal was given the knotted entrails.

  He always ate in silence, wishing for a day when he would be able to teach Lion a lesson.

  One day, soon after the September rains that made the earth on the plains soft and easy to creep on, Jackal and Lion tracked and killed a quagga. Quagga was a kind of zebra that was especially delicious near the hind legs where it had no stripes.

  Lion was happy.

  Lion was ecstatic.

  Lion was joyful.

  Lion was enthralled.

  Lion was as jumpy as a grasshopper on a hot stone. He lunged at birds here and there, rearing on his hind legs and roaring. He rolled in clumps of ticklish dwarf grass and, because of the rains, he found a pond in which he could almost completely cover himself with sun-warmed water. Lion shook his mane and tried to catch water droplets on his tongue.

  Jackal, carrying the quagga alone, stood and waited while his friend played. He glared at Lion until Lion stopped for a moment.

  ‘Oh, Jackal, my friend, you know the way home now. You go on ahead. Give the meat to my wife and I’ll join you later.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Jackal, annoyed to see his friend already playing back in the water. He set off, pulling the quagga behind him.

  As soon as Jackal was a safe distance from Lion, he changed direction and went to the lair where they usually split their hunt. He carved the quagga carefully, putting fat and flesh in one skin bag and the entrails and bones in another.

  He threw one heavy skin bag over his shoulder and set off for Lion’s homestead. At the gate he greeted Lion’s wife and left the skin bag with her.

  ‘Won’t you be eating with us tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘Not tonight, Mrs Lion, but I’ll come tomorrow if Lion is here.’

  And with that Jackal was gone. He went back for the other skin bag and went to the mountain, where, because of its many caves, the jackals stayed during times of rain.

  As Jackal emerged from the narrow hole that opened on to the trail up the mountain, a few jackal cubs spotted him and ran off to inform the elders. By the time Jackal got to the settlement there was quite a crowd waiting for him, with his frail mother and his older brother right in front.

  There was howling.

  There was hooting.

  There was catcalling.

  There was whistling.

  There was booing.

  But they did not shoo him away. The jackals were hungry and they had noticed that Jackal was carrying something heavy behind him.

  ‘We hope you have not brought more entrails with you, because if you have you can turn right round and go back to your friend Lion.’

  Jackal smiled. He put down the skin bag and reached for the juiciest piece of quagga hind leg. Then he removed it, sprang to his mother and gave it to her. ‘Your favourite, mother. Not just zebra, but quagga zebra.’

  There was cheering.

  There was clapping.

  There was backslapping.

  There was laughing.

  There was dancing.

  And finally there was eating.

  The jackals had just about finished eating when they heard a thunderous roar from the foot of the mountain. The young cubs cowered and slunk into caves and spaces beneath rocks.

  But Jackal wasn’t scared at all. He knew that Lion, after all his years of eating fat and flesh, could not fit through the hole that led to the trail up the mountain.

  ‘Gireb!’ Lion roared from below.

  Gireb was Jackal’s school name and only his teachers had used it. It was a sign that Lion was furious.

  Jackal smiled and leaned over the edge of the mountain. ‘Ah, Lion, my dear friend and advisor … my mentor, even!’

  ‘Don’t call me advisor, don’t call me mentor,’ said Lion. ‘You gave my family entrails to eat and you dare call me mentor?’

  ‘Entrails?’ yelped Jackal, feigning shock. ‘It’s not possible.’

  ‘I said you gave my family entrails,’ roared Lion.

  ‘It’s not possible,’ insisted Jackal. ‘The quagga was heavy so I got my brother to help me carry it here, but I cut it up myself. I put all the flesh and fat in one skin bag for you and all the entrails and bones in another skin bag for me. When I finished, I just turned away for a minute to clean my coat, then I asked my brother to pass me the skin bag. I took the bag directly to Mrs Lion myself.’

  ‘You gave my family entrails!’ Lion repeated.

  Jackal looked at Lion over the ledge and scratched his ear.

  ‘Lion, old friend, forgive me. I think I’ve realized what happened. My brother gave me the wrong skin bag.’

  Lion growled. ‘But that will not feed my family. Where is the flesh?’

  ‘He is very sorry, Lion. I am just going to tell him off severely right now.’

  Jackal moved from the edge of the mountain and pretended to shout at his brother for being so foolish.

  Jackal returned to the ledge. ‘He is seriously sorry, Lion. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘But, even so, I have only had entrails for dinner.’

  ‘Well, old friend, there is still some flesh and fat up here – not enough for all your family, but why don’t you come up here and eat your fill? I won’t tell them.’

  ‘You know I won’t fit through that passage to come up,’ Lion growled.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll throw you a rope. My jackal community will help you up.’

  And so the jackals wove a nice, strong rope with vines and threw it down to Lion. Lion tied it round his narrow waist and the jackals pulled him upwards.

  But …

  Just as Lion got to the ledge …

  Jackal signalled to them to let go and Lion fell with a thud – BAM! – just like when he landed on prey.

  ‘Arghhh!’ Lion roared.

  ‘So sorry. So sorry, my friend. My stupid brother let go of t
he rope!’

  ‘I’m sore …’ groaned Lion.

  ‘Really,’ said Jackal, ‘let me deal with my brother again. This time I will beat him for his carelessness.’

  Jackal left the ledge and pretended to beat his brother by hitting the empty skin bag with a stick. The jackal’s brother screamed so loud that even Lion cried out for Jackal to stop.

  ‘It’s enough,’ he said. ‘Can you pull me up to eat? More carefully this time.’

  ‘OK,’ said Jackal, winking at his friends.

  So the jackals took hold of the rope again and heaved Lion up. This time they pulled him quite far up – enough for his whiskers to touch the top. He was suddenly face to face with his friend Jackal, close enough to whisper to him.

  Lion smelled the delicious quagga flesh and smiled, but as he lifted his claws to grip the edge of the mountain, the jackals let go of the rope.

  Jackal pretended he was trying to catch the rope as Lion fell, then he ran back to help his brother beat the skin bag again.

  Lion heard the screaming from the foot of the mountain, where he had fallen flat on his back. ‘Stop it,’ he groaned.

  Jackal rushed to look down. ‘What did you say, my friend?’

  ‘I said, stop it. It’s not his fault. You jackals are too weak to lift a lion.’

  Lion rolled on to his front and stood tall, shaking the dust off his coat in spite of the severe aches and pains from his two falls. ‘Say, old friend,’ he said, ‘that quagga flesh smells wonderful.’

  ‘It is, Lion. I’m surprised that we jackals have preferred entrails for such a long time.’

  Lion laughed. ‘Gireb, you are teasing me. I explained to you; it is for the jobs we do. For example, if I do not have flesh and fat, I may not be as strong when we hunt tomorrow. Then we will both starve.’

  ‘Oh, Lion! Jackals never starve. We have been around for thousands of years. But I understand that you need some fat and flesh tonight. Why don’t I throw some down to you?’

  ‘You would do that for me, Jackal?’

  ‘Of course, old friend, of course. Why don’t you open your mouth and let us throw the pieces in?’

  Lion settled on his hindquarters, lifted his magnificent head to the sky and opened his jaws to their fullest width.

  Up on the mountain Jackal and his family collected rocks, wrapped them in quagga skin and rubbed them with leftover fat. When they had nine pieces, they stacked them at the edge of the mountain.

  ‘Are you ready, Lion?’ Jackal shouted.

  ‘Yes,’ roared Lion impatiently. ‘Can’t you see?’

  ‘OK, I have ten pieces for you. Here comes the first.’

  Jackal threw the first rock directly into Lion’s throat, near the back of the tongue, where Lion would taste the sweet fat first.

  Lion didn’t even try to chew. He just swallowed the rock, delighted to feel its weight settle in his belly.

  ‘Do you want the next one?’ shouted Jackal cheerily.

  ‘Yes,’ growled Lion. ‘Make it quick.’

  Jackal threw the second rock down, then the third.

  Lion paused to lick his lips. ‘This quagga is quite heavy, Jackal,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, Lion. This quagga is very special. I have seven pieces left. Should I pack them for you to take to your wife and six cubs?’ asked Jackal, to see if Lion would want to share with his own family.

  ‘No. I’m not full yet. Throw down the next piece.’ Lion opened his jaws again.

  Jackal tossed the next piece into Lion’s throat.

  And then another.

  And then another.

  After the sixth piece, Lion couldn’t stomach any more. He felt the weight of his belly becoming hard for him to support. Still, he wanted to finish the meat, so he asked Jackal to wait for a moment so he could settle his stomach. Lion would have stayed at the foot of the mountain all night if that is what it took, but Jackal did not want his old friend to be so close when he realized that he had been tricked. He would be able to call the attention of other lions to the jackals’ hiding place.

  ‘Lion,’ Jackal said. ‘Why don’t you go home and sleep it off? I will keep the rest for you to come and finish tomorrow.’

  Lion lifted his head. ‘That’s a great idea, my friend. I’ll see you tomorrow for the hunt.’

  Well, I can tell you that Lion didn’t turn up for the hunt the next day. See, while a Lion has very wide jaws, its bum is no bigger than a goat’s – and those rocks had to come out somehow. In the middle of the night, Lion was heard all across the kingdom wailing in pain as those rocks taught him a lesson about greed and the importance of sharing.

  Soon the other animals came back to the kingdom in greater numbers and the giraffes returned to the large tree where they once gathered.

  Lion must have told his cubs what happened before he died because, when you see lions feeding these days, they always test the meat with their claws first and they almost always let it fall to the ground first.

  And jackals? Jackals watch their backs. They are careful to stay behind lions, just in case some young lion decides to pay them back for greedy Lion’s rock supper.

  The Frog’s Wedding

  An M’baka and Ambundu tale

  There was once a young cattle herder named Itanda. He was wealthy and strong, and his cattle were healthy, but he spent hours every day just staring at the sky. Every single day.

  ‘If my cattle were up there,’ he’d say, ‘it would be so easy to keep an eye on them.’

  In fact, he talked about the sky so much that one day a passing parrot stopped to challenge him: ‘If you think the sky is so perfect, why don’t you go and live in the Sky Kingdom?’

  Itanda thought about it for a moment, then he answered. ‘Maybe I will!’

  However, living in the Sky Kingdom wasn’t so easy to do. The Sky Chief had to give you permission and teach you how to climb the invisible spiderweb ladder that led to the kingdom. He only gave permission to creatures that were useful to the kingdom.

  If you were good at arranging clouds, or supervising suns and moons to make sure they went to bed at the right time, the Sky Chief would invite you at once. Also, because the Sky Kingdom was always losing water as rain, they needed many people to fetch water from Earth daily. Otherwise you had to be married to a citizen of the kingdom.

  There were seven maidens from the Sky Chief’s own homestead who came from the heavens each day to fetch water for everyone who lived there. Although no one from Earth was allowed to speak to them, everyone had heard them gossiping about the Sky Chief’s warrior wife and their brilliant and beautiful daughter, who was unmarried.

  Since Itanda had no special skills that would be useful to the Sky Kingdom, he decided that the Sky Chief’s daughter would have to be his bride. He sat on a rock and composed a letter to the Sky Chief:

  I, Itanda, cattle herder of renown,

  a man made of soil’s rich brown,

  a walker of plains and hills high,

  wish to make your daughter my wife.

  He was very happy with the letter, but he needed someone to help him deliver it. As he couldn’t ask the seven maidens who fetched water daily at the deep forest well, Itanda roamed between the trees and in the thick undergrowth, looking for anyone else who was close to heaven.

  He asked the giraffe because her neck was so long.

  (Giraffe said no because she could only carry things as far as her head went. ‘That’s not close to heaven!’)

  So he asked the rabbit because his hind legs were so strong.

  (But Rabbit said he could only really hop as high as Giraffe’s belly. ‘That’s not close to heaven!’)

  Next, Itanda asked the bald eagle because he swooped in the sky and the soko antelope because she could jump so high …

  NO.

  Neither of them could get his letter to heaven.

  So he asked the colobus monkey because he could climb to incredible heights …

  NO.

  Monkey said h
e could only reach as high as the highest tree, which looked like it reached heaven from the middle of the forest, but that was just something called perspective and it was not at all close to heaven.

  By evening, a tired Itanda went to ask the striped hyena if she would read the letter out to the heavens as she howled so loudly at night.

  Hyena didn’t think her howling would carry that far, but she tried.

  ‘I, Itanda …’

  Itanda stopped her. ‘It’s not loud enough. Try harder!’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Louder.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Louder.’

  ‘I can’t be any louder,’ shouted Hyena. ‘Do it yourself!’

  A frog, who had been woken up by Hyena’s howling, said the same thing. ‘Why don’t you just find a way to go to the Sky Kingdom yourself to deliver the letter?’

  ‘But I can’t,’ said Itanda. ‘I can’t jump, I can’t climb trees, I don’t have wings …’

  ‘OK,’ said Frog. ‘I will take it for you.’

  Itanda laughed. ‘What frog can do what an eagle can’t do? What frog can reach where a giraffe can’t?’

  ‘I will find a way,’ said Frog. ‘Just give me the letter.’

  ‘You’d better not lose it,’ Itanda warned as he gave Frog the letter.

  The next morning Frog went to the deep forest well and kept watch for the seven maidens who fetched water for the Sky Chief. When he spotted them, he wrapped the letter in his long tongue, jumped in the water and waited.

  As the maidens lowered their water jugs to fill, he hid in one of them and they carried him up with them to the Sky Kingdom.

  At the Sky Chief’s homestead, Frog placed the letter on a small table in a corner of the banqueting room and hid in an empty water jug.

  When the Sky Chief saw the letter, he read it, frowned and called the seven water maidens.

  ‘Did you bring this letter with you?’ he asked.

  ‘No!’ they said.

  Since the water maidens never ever lied, the Sky Chief nodded and sent them away. He didn’t tell his warrior wife or his brilliant daughter about the letter because he thought it was a bit rude really. He just threw it away.