Even King Elephant had a triumphant trumpet, before quietening the animals for Hare’s formal dressing down. ‘Hare, you are a disgrace to the animal kingdom,’ he harrumphed haughtily. ‘Not only have you been lazy, and failed to help us dig the well, but you have stolen water that doesn’t belong to you. You must be punished.’
Hare’s long tail started to quiver with terror. ‘King, oh, King,’ he said. ‘I know I have done wrong. But whatever you do, please don’t swing me by my ears and tail and throw me onto the sand. That’s what every hare dreads.’
Elephant surveyed him with a frown. ‘If that is what hares dread, then that is what we must do,’ he said. He called for the sharp-toothed dog to hold Hare’s long tail and Hyena to hold the rabbit’s ears. Then, as the animals roared and snorted, they swung Hare into the air and thumped him onto a pile of yellow sand. When he lay there quite still, there was a rumbling cheer. ‘Justice has been done!’ the animals yelled. ‘Let’s go and celebrate.’
But as usual, Hare had tricked his fellow creatures. No sooner had they turned their backs than he leapt up, gave a gleeful shout and then hopped for his life. ‘Silly animals,’ he giggled as he bounced this way and that. ‘Don’t they know how soft sand is? It’s like a pillow to us hares!’
The animals hated being tricked once. But being tricked twice was really out of order. ‘After him!’ trumpeted Elephant furiously, as the paths pounded with creatures in pursuit. Lion was at the front, but before he could even yell ‘Burrow!’ Hare was down one, his long tail slinking swiftly down the hole. Sadly, it didn’t slink down quite fast enough, and with a pounce Lion caught it and bit it off sharply between his teeth.
Hare howled and cried, and hopped up and down with agony, but it was too late. His beautiful long tail was gone – lopped off by Lion. Look at it today, and see how stumpy it is – a constant reminder that Hare had cheated – and lost.
Why lightning strikes
Told to me in Tonga by Mafuta Siabwanda in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe
Once upon a time there lived a woman called Lefu, who was loved by everyone in her village. Lefu was poor, but she was generous, kind and always smiling, especially when she was with her daughter Minni. She loved Minni. Every day, when they’d take their clay pots to get water from the river, she would sing a song to thank the god Mulungu for such a happy life. ‘Thank you Mulungu for food, sun and water, and thank you for giving me my precious daughter,’ she sang sweetly, as her friends the birds whistled along.
In the same village lived three women, who had plenty of earthly riches, but were terribly mean. They never shared anything – their food, their conversation, or their song – preferring, rather, to sit in their huts, counting their pieces of cloth, admiring their goats, stuffing their fat bodies with porridge, and complaining.
Complaining was their favourite hobby, particularly if it was about Lefu. ‘Why should she be loved more than us by the rest of the village?’ they would gripe through their mean mouths. ‘We are much richer than she is. All she has is that silly smile on her face.’
One day their jealousy became so great that they could not stand Lefu’s smile any longer. They came up with a horrible trick to play on her. At the hottest part of the day, when Lefu and Minni were gathering water at the river, the three women appeared from behind a tree. ‘Hello, Lefu,’ said the first woman, a fake smile lighting up her normally mean face. ‘The sun is so hot today that all three of us have thrown our children in the river. They are so happy and cool now. Why don’t you throw Minni in? The poor girl looks boiling!’
Lefu was a bit apprehensive, but her daughter looked so hot, and the women seemed so unusually helpful, she agreed. But the minute that Minni’s body splashed into the water, the three women began to cackle through their yellow, cracked teeth. ‘You love making people happy, Lefu,’ hooted one noisily, ‘and today you will have made Crocodile’s day. He doesn’t usually get plump young girls for his dinner.’ Before Lefu could even cry out, Crocodile had risen from the river bed, snapped up Minni and vanished under the water.
Lefu was distraught, and ran back to the village crying out for the village warriors to come and help her. They took their spears to hunt the great beast. But it was too late – Crocodile had vanished, with Minni in his belly. ‘Oh God Mulungu, who gives me food and water,’ wept Lefu under a tree by the riverbank. ‘Please help me to get back my precious daughter.’
Leopard, who had been lying eating an antelope on a branch above Lefu’s head, took pity on the weeping woman who usually sang so sweetly. ‘Lefu, climb up here,’ he purred softly, ‘and I will help you find your way to the great god Mulungu. It is a long journey into the sky, but if you climb my tree, at least you’ll be nearer the clouds.’
So, with Leopard’s help, Lefu climbed the tree to the tips of its strong branches. When she got to the top, her friends the birds offered her further assistance. ‘Come with us, sweet Lefu,’ they sang, lifting the woman onto their wings and flying her into the sky. When they reached the stars, the great fishes of the sky, the Mazomba, took over. They lifted Lefu from the birds, and swam her through the stars in the great Lake Sky. Eventually she reached the village where the great god Mulungu lived.
When Mulungu heard her sweet voice, the god immediately recognised the sweet woman who sang praises to him every day, and took pity on her. At once he ordered Crocodile to come and see him.
‘I know Minni was your supper, Crocodile,’ said Mulungu, ‘but Lefu needs her beloved daughter back. I promise that, if you obey me, I will see that you have plenty of food to make up for that snack of little Minni.’
This sounded like a good deal to Crocodile. So he belched, and his tummy squelched, and out of his long, toothy mouth popped a slightly wet, and squashed-looking, Minni. ‘Oh thank you, Mulungu,’ cried Lefu happily, hugging her daughter and drying off Crocodile’s saliva. Then the two of them set off home again – this time with their new friend the Crocodile, and a great bundle of gifts from the god for their journey.
When they got home, the villagers prepared a celebratory feast and Lefu sat round the fire and told them of her great adventure in the sky. When she showed them Mulungu’s gifts: cloth and food and gold, the villagers were delighted for the sweet Lefu – except, of course, for the three greedy old women. ‘Why should that silly, smiley Lefu have those gifts?’ they complained. ‘If she can trick Mulungu into giving her all that, surely we could have even more?’
So the next day, the three women threw their own three children into the river, and, huffing and puffing, hauled their fat bodies up the tree where Leopard lived to make the long journey to the great god Mulungu. The trip took them much longer than Lefu’s, as none of the animals wanted to help such miserable, miserly old women. But after a few days of beating and prodding the reluctant birds and beasts, the three women arrived at the god’s village.
Mulungu was not pleased. After all, gods don’t like to be ordered about. They don’t like their animals being maltreated. And they especially don’t like lazy, malicious, mean old women coming to lie to them. At first Mulungu listened patiently to the women’s sob story, of how they had mistakenly lost their beloved children in the river, and how their dear friends the animals had helped them reach the village.
But slowly his face darkened, and his voice turned to thunder. ‘Old women,’ he bellowed, as the rain clouds around him turned black.
‘Have you not learnt any lessons in life? You have done every bad thing a woman can do – fooling a mother into killing her daughter, lying, throwing your children into the river, and now trying to trick me into giving you things. Well, if you want things, you will get things. But it will be things that you deserve!’
The god then raised his hand furiously into the sky. As he did, the clouds blackened, the wind started to blow, and a monstrous bolt of lightning shot from his palm, striking all three women down and throwing their bodies down through the sky into the river for the hungry crocodile to eat.
The v
illage was glad to be rid of the three wicked women, and to welcome home Minni and Lefu. But no one will ever forget that day: the time that Mulungu took the liars and sent them back to earth in lightning. Whenever there is lightning, liars look particularly nervous. For they know it is a sign that the great god Mulungu is watching for wickedness from above.
Why Hippo flings his dung
Told to me in English by Aubrey Mbewe, a game guide at Kisani Lodge in the Luangwa Valley, Zambia
When the Creator first made the earth, Hippo was a land creature. A greedy land creature. All day he would wander the riverbanks and plains, chewing and chewing and chewing. The more he chewed, the fatter he got. And the fatter he got, the more he hated the hot African sun.
‘Oh great God,’ he muttered miserably as he heaved his fat, hot belly down to the river for a drink. ‘I wish I could cool down. How I envy those creatures that don’t have to bake in the sun, but who wallow happily in the water. I wish I could join them.’
One day Hippo could take the baking sun no longer. His skin was wrinkled and cracked, his nose was sunburnt and he could hardly talk his mouth was so dry. ‘Please, Creator,’ he begged. ‘Let me go and live in the river. I am so unhappy in the sun. I promise I will behave.’
The Creator wasn’t convinced. ‘Everywhere you go, Hippo, you eat everything in sight,’ he said. ‘On the riverbanks you eat the river plants. On the plains you eat the grass. If you lived in the water, you would undoubtedly eat all the fish too. Besides, what would the crocodiles say? It’s their home too, you know. And we can’t have two hungry animals living in the same water. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.’
At this news, Hippo wept and wailed. By day he heaved his fat belly around, chomping grass and drinking water. And at night, he complained by the light of the moon. ‘Oh Creator, please!’ he wept.
‘Today my nose got sunburnt, my ears got sunburnt, and even my tummy got sunburnt. I’m so unhappy in the sun that I am prepared to make you a promise. I promise that, if you let me live in the water, I will only stay in it in the day. By night I will get out of the river and eat grass by the light of the moon. And never, ever will I touch a fish. I promise, I promise, I promise!’
The Creator, feeling sorry for the poor sunburnt Hippo, agreed – on one condition: that the fat creature never, ever ate a single fish. ‘And to prove it,’ the Creator said, ‘every time your food passes through your body, I want you to spray it around with your tail. As your dung flies through the air, Hippo, I will personally inspect it. If I ever see a fishbone in it, I’m warning you, you will be out on the riverbank in the sun again.’
Thanking the Creator, the very happy hippo jumped straight into the water, where he still lives today. Occasionally during the day you will spot his nose and ears poking out of the water while he keeps his body cool under the water. But he always comes out at night to graze, and whenever he does you can see him keeping his promise to the Creator. Watch his tail you will see it spinning about, sending his dung flying into the sky. And occasionally you will hear him grunt ‘Look, God, no fish, Look God, no fish!’ just to prove his point.
Why Hare’s ears are long
Told to me in Shona by Blessing Cabbage in Mabvuku, Zimbabwe
A long time ago, before Lion was king, Elephant was the ruler of all creatures on earth. He was the biggest, the strongest and the wisest animal God had ever made, so it was only natural that he should rule the kingdom.
One day King Elephant decided to call a meeting of all of the antelopes. This was unusual, because normally he invited everyone, but this time he needed to discuss something that concerned the antelopes only. So he sent out an urgent message calling all the antelopes to meet under the baobab tree.
Hare, as usual, had his ears pricked into the air, and soon he had heard the message too. He was very cross. Wasn’t he smarter than anyone else? Craftier than anyone else? And faster than everyone else? If so, why was he being left out of the secret meeting?
For two days and two nights Hare sat grumpily in his burrow. ‘How am I going to get to the meeting?’ he pondered. Then at last he came up with an idea. ‘I know!’ he giggled, hopping about happily in his burrow. ‘I will make myself into an antelope!’
After making sure that no one was watching him, Hare set off in great excitement. He hopped and he skipped, over logs and over the river. When at last he got to a hollow tree in the forest, he gave a leap of joy. For there was a tree trunk containing the most enormous deserted bees’ nest he had ever seen. And in that nest were honeycombs full of precious golden wax.
Hare couldn’t stop grinning. ‘Hohoho!’ he chortled happily, hopping from foot to foot with glee. ‘Look what the bees have made for me!’ And quickly he began stuffing his little bag full of wax, before hopping home.
When he got back to his burrow Hare wasted no time completing his plan. With his deft little fingers, he soon was shaping, smoothing and shining the wax until, in his hands, he held a pair of the most beautiful, elegant and realistic antelope horns he’d ever seen. He tried them on for size, adjusted them between his two short little ears, and wiggled his head about to make sure they stayed on. Then, with a contented sigh, he settled down for the night, dreaming of how handsome he would look as an antelope.
The next morning, Hare leapt up and excitedly tried on his new headdress, sticking it down firmly with wax on his head. After looking at himself in the waterhole, he had to congratulate himself. ‘The animals are right, Mr Hare,’ he said, swaggering at his reflection, ‘when they say you are a handsome and clever chap. Indeed you are! Yes, you are!’ And off he trotted, as antelope-like as he could, to the secret meeting.
Under the great baobab tree, the antelopes had all gathered, and were snorting and harrumphing in anticipation of the big occasion. All types of horns were mingling together. On one side stood the bighorned animals: Eland’s curly and twisted, Sable’s notched and arched, Waterbuck’s black and straight. And on the other stood all the tiny buck, from Duiker to Impala, wiggling their little horns and snorting impatiently.
Nervously, Hare slipped in between them, lowering his head so no one would notice him. Fortunately, most of the antelope hadn’t seen each other for a while – some being from the mountains and others from the valleys – so they took little notice and kept on chatting. And soon, King Elephant was trumpeting the start of the meeting.
‘As you know, oh Horned Ones,’ started the king, ‘we are here for a secret meeting to discuss matters related only to us. I would ask you to keep whatever you hear to yourselves.’ The antelopes all nodded in unison, including Hare. But as he did so, he thought he felt something wobble. ‘Oh no!’ he said to himself, his eyebrows shooting up in panic. ‘My horns – they’re slipping!’
Sure enough. While the horns had looked perfect earlier, what Hare had forgotten was that wax melts. And in the hot morning sun, his elegantly crafted horns were slowly dripping off his head. First he felt a warm drip down his nose.
Then he felt a strange, warm, melting sensation on his head. And then – embarrassment embarrassment of embarrassment – one of his horns fell right off, in full sight of all the antelopes, and yellow wax streamed down his face.
The meeting went quiet. Then everyone started grunting and stamping their feet. ‘Rotten spying Hare!’ snorted Eland. ‘Traitor!’ trumpeted Reedbuck. Together the creatures lowered their horns and stormed the wet, sticky creature, before taking it in turns to pick him up by his short little ears and toss him like a ball from antelope to antelope. When the creature was filthy, and waxy, and a bit bruised, the king trumpeted. ‘I think Hare has learnt his lesson, fellow creatures,’ he said, surveying the hot, waxy animal lying in a ball in the sand. ‘And I trust now his new head ornaments will remind him for ever more that not everything is his business.’
Shamed, and slightly sore, Hare stood up and hopped home. When he saw a waterhole, he stopped to look at his reflection. What he saw horrified him. His horns were gone – but what had ha
ppened to his ears? He looked again, thinking his eyes were tricking him, but they hadn’t. On his head were the longest ears he had ever seen – long, fluffy ears that rose from his head straight into the sky. ‘Well at least I will be able to hear well,’ he sighed, and hopped off home.
Hare can hear much better now, thanks to his new ears. But they haven’t really helped him hear any more secrets. For every time a jungle creature sees a hare coming, it remembers to keep its mouth shut. Those big ears are a reminder that a hare is a creature which would like to know everything and will do anything – even make himself horns – to find it out.
Why Frog can no longer sing
Told to me in Ndebele by Monica Khumalo in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe
Once upon a time, the frog was the greatest singer in the animal kingdom. Its voice was sweet, and its songs clear, and animals would travel from faraway lands to hear its recitals on the banks of the river.
In a nearby village lived a great and good chief who was loved throughout the land. His cattle were fat and his villagers had rich supplies of food. Their water was cold and plentiful. And there was peace throughout their land. It was a time of great happiness.
The chief was fond of all his people, but his favourite was his youngest daughter, a sweet, kind and very beautiful young girl. One day the girl and her friend decided to go swimming. It was a hot day, and they walked through the sunny forest until they reached a cool pool. They had never been to this pool before, but it was so leafy overhead, the water was so clear and the banks so grassy that it seemed a perfect place for a swim. Soon they were splashing about, their laughter ringing in the leaves above.
It so happened that this pool was the one in which Frog lived. That day, he was sitting on his favourite lily leaf, warming up his voice for his evening singsong. ‘What a lucky frog I am,’ he hummed happily, ‘to be king of such a cool pool. In fact I’m such a lucky king, I might even start to sing.’ He opened his mouth, stretched his great green throat into the air and prepared for a sensational singsong.
Stories Gogo Told Me Page 2