The next morning Honeybird was still so cross about the man’s ingratitude that he had an idea that might teach the man a lesson. Flying through the forest, he looked here and looked there until he found exactly what he wanted. There, under a fallen tree in the middle of the forest lay a leopard with her three cubs. Not only was their home shady and protected, but nearby was a supply of dark, rich honey. And, as you probably know, leopards like nothing more than a daily lick of honey.
Once he’d hatched his plan, Honeybird knew exactly what to do: to fly back to the man’s field and lure him once again. The man of course was over the moon, for although he was feeling a little sick from too much honey the day before, he couldn’t resist the cry. Quickly, he threw down his tools and hurried after the bird.
The journey to the honey was longer this time – over a river, around a hill, through a thick forest and down a narrow path – but at last Honeybird stopped flying, and began to circle a thickly grassed area. Knowing that meant honey, the man greedily shot forward, his legs stumbling in the grass to get to the fallen tree.
This time, though, there was more than just golden honey waiting for him. Leopard had spotted the fat-tummied human stumbling through the bush from far away, and as the man clumsily stepped on one of her cubs, Leopard leapt forward with a terrifying roar.
With one swipe of her paw, she swatted the man to the ground and bit him hard on the arm. It was not a nice lesson to learn, but Man knows now. Today, whenever he is invited into the animal kingdom, he enters with caution, knowing that the treasures of the forest are for all – creatures great and small.
The race between Hare and Tortoise
Told to me in Bemba by John Zulu in the Luangwa Valley, Zambia
One morning Tortoise was ambling happily towards the river when he came upon Hare. He wasn’t particularly pleased, for he had always thought Hare was rude. But today he was even less pleased than usual by the long-eared creature’s snide greeting. ‘Morning slowcoach,’ sneered Hare, nibbling casually on a piece of grass. ‘Can I give you a lift to the river? I would hate you to miss sunset …’
Tortoise narrowed his eyes crossly. ‘Actually, Hare,’ he said, in a stiff, unamused tone, ‘it is I who should be offering you a lift. As every intelligent animal knows, tortoises are fine athletes, particularly over long distances. Even a supposed slowcoach like me could outrun a mere bunny like you.’
Hare laughed. Run? He had never seen Tortoise even jog! But as the creature was so cheeky, there was only one way to find out. ‘Well, old man,’ he said, ‘what about a race?’
Tortoise grinned. Hare had fallen into his trap, and he had planned exactly how he was going to win the race. ‘Give me a few days to train,’ he said, ‘and I will be ready. Shall we say Saturday?’ With the date set, Hare hopped off happily.
When Hare was out of sight, Tortoise called his relatives together and told them about the Saturday’s race. ‘If you want to teach that conceited creature a lesson, you will all have to play a part,’ he said.
‘Listen carefully, for this is what I want you to do …’ Carefully he explained how each tortoise should hide in bushes along the route of the race, and come out when he was needed. ‘We all look the same,’ he grinned. ‘Hare will never know that you are not me!’
On the day of the race, Hare and Tortoise met under a shady marula tree, watched by a crowd of excited animals. As the pair lined up at the starting post, Fish Eagle gave a screech. ‘Go!’ he whistled through his sharp yellow beak. ‘Run!’
The two creatures ran as fast as their legs would carry them, Hare leaping off, with Tortoise trundling along behind him. After a while Hare became thirsty. ‘Given I can’t see Slowcoach for dust, I might as well sit for a sip and a snooze,’ he said, with a self-satisfied smirk. Stopping, he settled down beneath a shady tree with a calabash of water and soon went to sleep.
After a few minutes, he was awoken by a yell. ‘Hey, Long-ears. Bit tired?’ he heard. As he opened his eyes, there was Tortoise, jogging freshly along in front of him.
Hare couldn’t believe his eyes. How on earth had old short-legs managed to catch up, he wondered. Jumping up with his calabash, he leapt off again, overtaking Tortoise and hopping and jumping as fast as his legs would take him.
He hopped and hopped and hopped, but with the sun beating down on his back, and dust flying into his face, he soon needed to stop. In the shade of a tree, he uncorked his calabash and lifted it to his mouth. But no sooner had he had a single gulp than a yell passed by. ‘See you at the finish, Hare!’ shouted a voice. Hare couldn’t believe his ears, so he lowered his calabash and looked with his eyes. His ears weren’t tricking him. The brown flash was indeed Tortoise!
Panicking, Hare leapt up and was soon hopping and leaping over logs and through grass. At last he saw the long, green river – where the finish line had been set. ‘Thank goodness for that!’ he sighed, as little beads of sweat slipped from his fur. ‘The end!’
He slowed down, and closing his eyes imagined the medal being put round his neck and the animal kingdom gathering round to offer their congratulations. ‘How wonderful it will be,’ he smiled, ‘to be the fastest jumper in the jungle!’ But as he looked forward his heart sank. For just before the finish line, about to cross it, was Tortoise.
A roar went up from the watching crowd of animals and the skies were filled with happy cries and shrieks and howls and yowls as Tortoise slowly crossed the line. ‘Well done, Shelled One!’ yelled Giraffe, waving his neck about excitedly. ‘King of the Road!’ trumpeted Elephant, stamping his feet till dust rose in the sky.
As Tortoise was patted on his shell and a medal hung about his scaly neck, Hare had to admit he had been well and truly beaten. ‘You have talents, Tortoise, that I had never imagined,’ he said shamefacedly, his ears flopping down with embarrassment. ‘From this day forward, I will never tease you again.’
The Tortoise looked at him, smiling wisely. ‘My relatives and I are delighted to hear it, Hare,’ he said. And off he went for a great celebration – of the greatest tortoise relay team that ever lived.
The princess and the python
Told to me in Shona by Mason Kanjanda in Harare, Zimbabwe
One day, long ago, birds flying over the palace of Zimbabwe heard a beautiful girl’s voice rising in the sky. Her song was sweet, but it was also sad. ‘Help me oh Moon God to be brave; for I have to go to the python’s cave,’ the song went.
The birds looked over the stone wall of the king’s palace and there they saw their friend, the Buhera Princess, weeping in the sun. ‘What is wrong,’ the birds asked. ‘My father is very ill, and we have tried everything to make him well,’ she replied. ‘The most famous witch doctors have come from all over the kingdom, we have sacrificed cows to the Moon God and our ancestors’ spirits, and we have piled our altars with maize and melons. But nothing has worked. Now, my brothers say, I have to go to visit the great python in the cave to beg him to heal my father, the king. They have already been to the snake and returned with nothing but fear. I am the last hope.’
The birds twittered with horror. The python’s cave! Every creature knew what happened in that dark black hole. Things went in, but never came out. How was a young, beautiful princess going to succeed when so many other strong men had failed?
‘No, no, no, you can’t go!’ they shrieked. But the Princess was insistent. ‘My heart has so much love for my father that it has no space for fear,’ she said. ‘I must.’ And down the path she walked, singing with the birds to give her courage.
After a long walk in the sun the princess reached the creature’s cave. Nervously she peered inside until she saw a great black head with yellow eyes shining out. ‘Who interrupts my s-s-s-s-s-sleep?’ hissed the python, its fangs glistening in the sunlight. ‘Do you not know, Princess-s-s-s-s, that my favourite food is people? Can you not see footprints-s-s-s in the s-s-s-sand of brave warriors who have fled?’
The princess looked at the scaly creature with tears
in her eyes.‘Please, mighty Python,’ she cried. ‘My father, the king, is dying. Only you, the great healer, can make him well. I beg of you, on behalf of our kingdom, save him.’
The python looked at her through his narrow yellow eyes. ‘S-s-s-s-sing to me,’ he hissed, ‘and carry me coiled round your body to your father. Your s-s-s-sweet voice will be my payment.’
The birds, sitting in the trees, started to screech and cry. ‘Don’t listen, Princess, don’t listen!’ they shrieked. ‘That’s how he kills people, by coiling round them and squeezing them to death. Run!’
But the princess stood tall as she had been taught by her father, her eland cloak round her shoulders and her gold and ostrich necklace glinting in the sun. ‘Come, Magic One,’ she said, ‘Come.’ Slowly the great snake started to slither out of his cave and wind his long, slippery body round hers, until the princess was completely entwined by cold python skin.
When they saw the python coming, the villagers ran away in fear, until they heard the princess’s sweet voice. ‘Loosen your arrows, and drop your bows,’ she commanded, as the warriors came towards her. ‘I bring a great serpent to heal the sick king.’
But the princess stood tall as she had been taught by her father, her eland cloak round her shoulders and her gold and ostrich necklace glinting in the sun. ‘Come, Magic One,’ she said, ‘Come.’ Slowly the great snake started to slither out of his cave and wind his long, slippery body round hers, until the princess was completely entwined by cold python skin.
When they saw the python coming, the villagers ran away in fear, until they heard the princess’s sweet voice. ‘Loosen your arrows, and drop your bows,’ she commanded, as the warriors came towards her. ‘I bring a great serpent to heal the sick king.’
The warriors did as she said and the python uncoiled itself from her body and slithered into her father’s house. Soon the palace was filled with smoke and smells and herbs, as the princess made a fire and brought out Python’s amulets of healing oils and herbs so that he could make his potion. When a powerful smoke filled the air, the serpent took the mixture off the fire and spoon by spoon fed it the king. Mter twelve spoonfuls, the king sat up. Then slowly he got out of bed and walked. He was healed.
The village erupted as the villagers sang, whistled and shrieked praises to the python. The king fell to his knees before the great serpent. ‘You have saved me,’ he said, ‘and in thanks I would like you to live among us as our Royal Village Healer. Will you stay?’
Python shook his head. ‘I am a creature of the jungle and my place is my cave,’ he hissed. ‘The princess must now take me back.’ Quietness once again descended on the village as the snake wound itself again about her tiny body. Then, with his head resting on her shoulder, they set off into the jungle, her voice rising into the air as she sang songs of praise to the python.
At the cave, the serpent unwound itself. Then, turning to the princess, it invited her in. ‘No, no, no!’ screeched the birds overhead. ‘He will squeeze you, he will squish you, he will bite you and eat you!’ But the princess ignored them. ‘You have saved my father, so I am sure youwill not harm me, dear friend. Thank you,’ she said, and followed him into the darkness.
The cave was nothing like she had expected. Rather than a dark hole littered with warriors’ skulls and bones, with bats flying about, the cave glistened with treasure. Great clay pots spilled jewels out on to rocks. Gold beads lay on the floor. Eland skins hung on the walls. And on a ledge lay a finely beaded wrap of silk.
Python looked at her fondly. ‘You have shown the kindness and strength of a great woman,’ he hissed. ‘Please, take what you like. What is mine is yours.’ Hanging her head shyly, the girl replied as the queen had taught her. ‘Thank you Python,’ she said politely, ‘but I can only accept a single gift. And that must be chosen by you.’
Looking round, the python picked the finest necklace the princess had ever seen – a string of moonstones and opals which reflected the light of her god, the moon. Hanging them gently from his fangs, he slithered over to her and put them in her outstretched hands. After putting them round her neck and thanking him, she bid him farewell, and joined her friends the birds outside for the journey home.
But that wasn’t the end of the princess’s happy tale. When she got back to the kingdom, her father was so pleased that his brave daughter was safe, he made her ruler of his kingdom. ‘Your necklace is proof to man and woman of your courage and wisdom,’ he said. ‘You, my princess, are now Queen.’
To crown her joy, at the celebrations the next day, a handsome stranger came by with caskets of gifts for her – of gold, gems, skins and silk. Then he asked for her hand in marriage. ‘I am a prince,’ he said, ‘who has been trapped in a python’s skin. Only the love and kindness of a great woman could save me – and that is you, dear Princess. Will you marry me so our great tribes can be joined as one?’
The princess happily agreed and the pair sat on their carved wooden thrones while their kingdom celebrated with feasts, and singing and dancing. The tribe still lives today, near the remnants of their ancient palace. Should you meet their queen, ask to see her necklace. It is made of moonstone – the gift given to her ancestor long ago by the python prince.
This moonstone necklace, which symbolised luck and fertility to the moon-worshipping Buhera clan, actually existed and was worn by the chieftainess of the clan, who handed it down to the next chief’s eldest daughter.
The man with big lips
Told to me in Shona by Amon Sithole in Harare, Zimbabwe
Once upon a time by the side of a river lived a man with very big lips. Every day, as the women of his village passed him fishing on the riverbank, they would giggle and call out. ‘Jindwe Long Lips! Who would ever marry you? No one would want to watch those fat lips chew!’
Jindwe naturally was upset. It was true – he did have enormous lips, he muttered to himself, but it was hardly his fault. ‘As my mother always said “Your heart is big, your brain is sharp, your body is strong and you are the kindest man in the village. So don’t take any notice.” But girls do take notice,’ he sighed, sadly casting his fishing line into the water.
One day Jindwe was fishing as usual when his rod suddenly bent. ‘This must the king of all fish!’ he thought excitedly. For almost an hour he fought the fish, as it fought and thrashed in the water. Then, just as he was about to reel it in, it tangled itself in some reeds. As much as Jindwe tugged and tussled, he couldn’t free the fish. It was stuck.
Jindwe didn’t like losing a fish, and he could not afford to lose his precious hook and line. So, lying down his rod on the riverbank, he took hold of the line and followed it into the water. Imagine his horror when in front of him in the water, staring frostily, was Crocodile, King of the River.
Jindwe started to walk backwards. ‘Pardon me entering your kingdom, King Crocodile,’ said Jindwe shaking, his eyes wide with terror. ‘But I am searching for a large fish who has swum away with my hook. Did you see it go by?’
Crocodile was usually a mean green fish-eating machine. But today, he was in a good mood and flattered by this man’s manners. ‘Since you have been so polite, young man,’ said Crocodile, staring with his yellow eyes, ‘I will give you magical powers to find it. Keep walking underwater and I will ensure you can breathe. Enjoy your journey.’ Then he disappeared.
Jindwe didn’t know whether King Crocodile was tricking him or not. But, desperate to find his hook, he slowly walked into the deep water to look. And just as the king had promised, he could breathe.
It was wonderful being able to stroll along the riverbed, past colourful little river crabs, to wave to the fat-whiskered barbel and to watch the silky green reeds flutter against his skin, and Jindwe was very happy. As he walked contentedly round a bend in the river, he came upon a hut with a dirty old lady sitting outside, her skin caked with mud and her weedy green hair hanging around her face. ‘Good day, old lady,’ he said politely, as his mother had taught him. ‘Have you seen a fis
h pass by with a hook and line?’
The old lady looked puzzled. ‘Are you wandering about looking for a single hook?’ she cackled. ‘Then you must be a very poor man indeed. This is dangerous territory where no man has ventured before. Do you not know there are crocodiles here?’
Jindwe nodded. ‘I do know of the dangers, old woman,’ he said. ‘But I am a poor man who cannot even afford a wife. So a little hook means a lot to me. Besides,’ he sighed, ‘no one will marry me anyway because of my big lips.’
The old woman took pity on him. He had such a kind face. And a lovely smile. She wanted to help him, but before she did so, she decided to test him. ‘I’m an old, old woman and cannot reach my back to wash it,’ she said. ‘It is now so dirty that even fish are starting to nibble on it. Would you mind giving it a clean?’
Jindwe, being a kind man, agreed and, taking a spongy plant from the river bed, he set about cleaning the thick layers of green slime, knobbly weeds and slithery water snails off her back. When he’d finished, her back was so smooth that even the fish came to look at themselves in its shiny surface. ‘Thank you, Jindwe,’ smiled the woman, her facing cracking into a thousand wrinkles. ‘You are indeed a fine man, and will be rewarded richly.’
She then disappeared into her hut and brought out six small pumpkins which she handed to him. Jindwe was very pleased. Even if he didn’t find his fish, he thought, at least he would have something for supper. He thanked the woman, put the pumpkins in his pouch and prepared to go home. But before he went, the old woman gave him a warning. ‘Be aware, young man, that these are not normal pumpkins,’ she said. ‘Fill them with water as soon as they break, and you will be richly rewarded. But let them dry out and they will die with you.’
Jindwe nodded and after he had said goodbye, he started his ascent out of the water and on to the path home. As he walked along, he heard a great crash behind him. ‘Oh no!’ he thought, turning round, ‘A pumpkin has fallen out!’ He turned round to pick it up, but instead of a pumpkin on the ground, there stood a beautiful girl on the pumpkin shell.
Stories Gogo Told Me Page 5