Stories Gogo Told Me

by Lisa Grainger

  While the girls were overawed with the blue mountains, the clear streams, and the orchards of wild fruit trees, they were even more excited when the men showed them their new homes. In the shade of the blood-red flamboyant tree were three brand new thatched huts. Inside were gifts for each girl: a sweet straw bed, a cooking pot, a goat’s hair blanket and two feather pillows. And a bed for the brother. The girls were delighted and that night everyone slept soundly in their new straw beds, fresh feather pillows beneath their heads.

  When the girls awoke the next morning, their husbands were already up and ready to leave for the forest. ‘Prepare, wives, for an enormous feast,’ they said, waving goodbye, ‘for we are off to hunt a delicious beast.’ And indeed they did.

  That night, the men returned with more meat than the girls had ever seen. Sitting round the fire, they feasted and laughed and feasted some more with their fine warrior husbands. Not one of them could quite believe how lucky she had been.

  That day was no extraordinary day, though. Each day was as delightful, and each evening the men would return from their hunt with something equally delicious: a fat-bottomed kudu, a tender young zebra, a suckling wild piglet or a delicate duiker. The women ate and ate and ate and soon they became the fattest and strongest wives in the valley.

  While the sisters were extremely content with their lives, their little brother was beginning to get suspicious. How did the three men manage to bring home so much meat? he wondered. How did their spears stay so clean and shiny? Why did they want his sisters to get so fat? And why did they never put on weight?

  There was only one way to find out, he decided: to follow them. One day, as the men walked through the grass towards the forest, the little boy crept behind them, as stealthily as a leopard. Then, when they got to the forest, he hid behind a rock.

  At first the men acted normally, chatting and collecting twigs to make a fire. But as soon as they’d made the fire everything changed. First they took off all their clothes. Then, when they were quite naked, they began to dance around the fire, pounding the earth with their feet, waving their arms and howling at the sky.

  The boy watched, puzzled, from behind a rock. And the longer he watched, the bigger his eyes got. For, as the men whirled faster and faster round the fire, singing and whistling and yelling and stamping, their bodies began to sprout thick animal hair. Then tails shot out from their bottoms. And thick bushy manes grew from their necks. Before long the men no longer looked like men, but like three very large lions.

  ‘So that is the secret of their hunting,’ thought the terrified boy, as he lowered himself, trembling, behind the rock. ‘They are lion men.’

  Sure enough, soon the lions were roaring and prowling the forest, pouncing on animals for supper. When they had caught enough they returned to the fire, prowled round it until they turned back into men again, then set off home for supper.

  The boy kept very quiet until the next morning, when he took his sisters aside and told them what he had seen. Of course they didn’t believe anything he said. ‘Nonsense, you silly little boy,’ they scolded him. ‘Our husbands might be as strong as lions, but they are certainly not wild animals. We don’t know why you make up these stories.’

  The boy was very upset that his sisters didn’t believe him. ‘I’ll prove it to you,’ he said. ‘Just wait.’ So when the warriors picked up their spears and went into the forest the next day, he followed them again. This time was even worse, for not only did he see the men turn into lions, but he overheard their conversation too. ‘How many days do you think we’ll have to wait until our little wifely beauties are fat enough to eat?’ growled one lion to another. ‘A day or two?’ purred the second. ‘Or perhaps tonight?’ smirked the biggest one, slurping his lips. ‘Mmmmmm, fresh, fat, female flesh!’ the three lions roared.

  ‘Oh no!’ the brother thought, hiding behind a tree. ‘They are going to eat my sisters!’ Leaping up, he ran through the grass, over the rocks and into the village to warn his sisters that they were going to be supper. At first, he was so out of breath, he couldn’t speak. But soon he was calm enough to blurt out his story. ‘I promise you! The lion men will have you for supper! And if you don’t believe me, come and look!’ he shouted, dragging the reluctant women outside.

  Sure enough, looking out towards the forest the sisters could see three enormous male lions walking towards them, growling and roaring, their eyes shining with hunger. The other villagers began to shout and beat their drums in warning. But the brother knew it wasn’t the villagers the lions wanted. ‘Follow me!’ he shouted, leading his sisters to a tree. ‘Quick, up here, unless you want to be lions’ tea!’

  For once the sisters obeyed their little brother, and at the top of the tree found an enormous flat reed basket that he had secretly made for their escape. ‘Just jump in and drum the drum!’ he shouted, as the drooling lions padded hungrily towards the tree. ‘Quickly, drum!’

  Luckily, although the sisters were rather heavy from all the food they had feasted on, the brother’s magic basket worked a treat. No sooner had they climbed in and started to drum than the basket rose up into the sky, leaving the roaring lions behind. Soon the happy foursome were whizzing through the air, under the sun, past the clouds and back home to their village.

  As the basket gently descended from the sky, the villagers raced out to see who had arrived. When the children’s mother and father saw them, they almost cried with happiness – especially when they heard what their children’s fate could have been. ‘I thought I had taught you about strangers,’ said their mother, sternly. ‘Did I not tell you to beware of them – especially those promising gifts.’

  ‘And there is another moral, Mother,’ said the young boy proudly.

  ‘Remember that the youngest is sometimes the wisest!’ The sisters, for once, had to agree. For where would they be if their brother hadn’t saved them? In three lions’ tummies. For tea.

  The lion and the jackal

  Told to me in San by Nxo Kgimxou in XaiXai, Botswana

  Once upon a time Jackal was walking along a path, looking, as usual, for a scrap of food to scrounge, when he came across a hungry looking lioness. ‘Why are you so thin, Mrs Lion?’ said Jackal, staring at his friend’s bony body. Lioness looked at him with tears in her eyes. ‘I am the unluckiest lioness in the world,’ she said. ‘I have no husband to protect me, no sisters to help me hunt, and no nanny to care for my five little cubs. In a drought like this, times are very tough.’

  Jackal looked at her sympathetically. ‘I know what you mean, Mrs Lion,’ he said. ‘I myself haven’t had food for weeks, and am starving. Perhaps what we should do is work together. What about if you left your cubs with me every day to look after, and then you could hunt properly without worrying? I could be their nanny!’

  Lioness was delighted with the idea and the next day she welcomed Jackal into her house. At first Jackal enjoyed living with a lion family. But after a few days of looking after five dusty cubs, cleaning the house and sweeping the yard while Lioness was out hunting, Jackal was exhausted. He was also very, very hungry. Lioness still hadn’t managed to catch a single animal, and the cubs had had nothing to eat but their mother’s milk. Slowly they were all starving.

  One day when Lioness went out, the hungry Jackal looked at the five little cubs and had an idea. ‘We haven’t got food and there are five of you soft, tasty little things running around,’ he said, looking at them wickedly. ‘You, I’m afraid, will have to be stew!’

  Quickly he pounced on one and within minutes had skinned it, chopped it and popped it into a pot to make a thick, meaty stew.

  After scoffing a big bowl, he set aside a large plate of it for Lioness. ‘These are, after all, her cubs we are cooking. It’s only right she should get a share,’ he said, smiling wickedly.

  That night, when Lioness came home, she asked as usual about her cubs. ‘I look after them so beautifully when you are away that they get fatter and happier by the day,’ said Jackal. ‘No
w lie down here, Mother Lion, and I will get bring them over to you to suckle.’ And off he trotted to the cubs’ hut to get the first two cubs to drink from their mother. When the cubs tummies were rounded and full, Jackal took them back to their hut and collected the next two. Then it was the last cub’s turn. This, of course, was a bit of a problem as it was in little bits in Jackal’s stomach. So, Jackal just picked up the first one, and took it back to its mother for a second helping – something, luckily, Lioness didn’t notice. Then, when the cubs were all in bed, Jackal presented her with a treat: a great big bowl of thick, steamy stew. Lion couldn’t believe her luck. ‘Where did you get this?’ she said, with a happy slurp. ‘Oh, from someone nearby,’ said Jackal casually. ‘Isn’t it lucky for you that you have friends like me?’ Lioness could not but agree.

  The next day, when Lioness was gone, Jackal once again began to dream of lion cub stew. ‘Mmmm, it was so delicious,’ he sighed, remembering the thick brown gravy. ‘So delicious, in fact, I think I will have to make another one.’ Eyeing the fattest cub, he pounced again and stewed it.

  At the end of the day, tired and hungry, Lioness returned to yet another wonderful supper – another gift from someone near, Jackal said. ‘But tomorrow, Lioness, you are going to have to catch something when you go hunting,’ said Jackal crossly. ‘I can’t be a husband and a wife to this family, finding food for us and tending the cubs. You have got to do something.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ purred Lioness happily, chomping on a lovely soft stew bone. ‘Tomorrow, I promise, dear friend Jackal we shall have kudu steak.’ Then she lay down to suckle her cubs, as Jackal ran backwards and forwards with them, this time bringing two for second helpings to disguise the missing two who had been made into stew.

  By the third day, Jackal had got quite used to his routine of catching a cub and cooking it. But he was getting worried about how many cubs were left, and what they would do when they ran out. ‘What do you do in the bush all day?’ he snapped at Lioness when she returned that night. ‘I thought you were a hunter. Yet every day you return empty-pawed. When we run out of gifts, then what will we do?’ ‘I promise, tomorrow will be my lucky day, tomorrow,’ said Lioness, flicking her tail happily in the air as she slurped delicious stew. ‘And now, Mr Jackal, would you mind bringing me my cubs to suckle?’

  Bringing the cubs to their mother was becoming tricky now there were only two left. But luckily, Jackal had an excuse. ‘Your cubs are now so fat that I have to just bring them one by one,’ he said, and, running backwards and forwards from the children’s hut, he picked up one cub and dropped the other off, until Lioness thought she had suckled all five. ‘I am so lucky to have you, Mr Jackal,’ said Lioness contentedly. ‘My cubs are fat, we are well fed, and our house is a happy one. If you were a lion, rather than a jackal, I would happily marry you.’

  Jackal had now become immune to the fact that he was cooking cubs. In fact, he rather enjoyed it: taking off the soft skin, and stewing up the fatty flesh. Eating it was just as marvellous – very sweet and soft. But he knew that it wasn’t going to last. With only one cub left, pretending to their mother there were five was going to be difficult. But, as usual, Jackal had his excuse ready when the last very fat, and very full, cub was carried backwards and forwards to its mother. ‘I look after your cubs so well, Mrs Lioness, that they just don’t need so much suckling at night,’ he said soothingly. ‘Just relax. They are very fat, and very contented. Lie down and have some stew.’ So Mrs Lioness did just that, relaxing on the hut floor and slurping one of Mr Jackal’s delicious suppers.

  On the fifth day, Mr Jackal was more nervous than usual. There was only one cub left and if he cooked that, Mrs Lion was sure to be furious. ‘What I’ll have to do is eat it all myself,’ he thought. So he did. He caught the lion cub, making it into the best stew he had ever made and he filled his tummy until he could eat no more. Then he ran up the hill overlooking the house, and spent the day snoozing.

  At the end of the day, when Lioness returned, there was not a single thing to welcome her home: no Jackal, no supper and no babies. ‘Mr Jackal, Mr Jackal, I’m home!’ she roared, but no one came. She looked in the huts, but her babies were gone. She looked in the kitchen, but the stew pot was empty. And she looked in Mr Jackal’s room, but all his things had vanished. It was outside, on the top of the hill above, that she spotted the smiling, fat-bellied jackal.

  ‘Lioness, you have been a fool,’ shouted Jackal from the hilltop. ‘Did no one teach you that you should never leave your precious children with people you do not know? If you had not left your cubs with a stranger, this would never have happened. But instead you have eaten them every day for supper. And what tasty stew they were!’

  Lioness gave a cry of rage and ran back into her children’s hut, but Jackal was right. Her precious babies were gone. And under their beds lay five empty lion cub skins.

  Lioness roared and howled all night, but it didn’t help. She had lost her babies by entrusting them to a stranger. But she has never done it again since. Now, whenever she’s hunting, Lioness leaves her cubswith her sister. And she keeps a watchful eye on Jackal. If you ever see the two animals in the grasslands today, notice how far apart they stay. Jackal is making sure Lioness can’t get near enough to take revenge. And Lioness is making extra sure that Jackal goes nowhere near her babies.

  The leper princess

  Told to me in Bemba by Meka Lubemba at the Latete leper colony in Zambia

  Once upon a time a king decided it was time he got married. He had a kingdom. He had a throne. But he had no wife or children. So he called for his drummers. ‘Drum throughout Africa,’ he ordered, ‘to tell the people I want a queen. She must be strong and kind and beautiful. The wedding will be held in one week.’

  Soon the valleys were thronging with the sound of the king’s drums and girls up and down the land were dreaming of becoming queen. In one village, three beautiful girls quickly prepared their bags for the journey to meet the king. They packed sweet beeswax to soften their feet, coconut oil to shine their skin, and soft cotton wraps fit for a queen. Then they set off on the path towards the kingdom.

  As they walked, they saw a shadow behind them. It was the village leper. ‘She’s not coming with us,’ they grumbled. ‘We’ll never be accepted by a king if we are with a scabby leper.’ So they picked up sticks and started chasing the poor girl back.

  A little way further the three girls saw an old woman sitting on the side of the road. She was tired and dirty and dressed in rags. ‘Please kind girls would you help me?’ the woman said. ‘I am too old to get water from the river and I am very thirsty. But I don’t think I can walk one step further.’

  The girls shook their heads. ‘Out of our way, Old Bag,’ they said. ‘We are on our way to marry the king. We have no time for old crones like you.’ And off they walked.As they walked off, the leper girl came creeping along the path behind them, careful to keep out of their way. When she got to the old lady she smiled. ‘Hello, old lady,’ she said, clapping her hands together respectfully. ‘Are you all right?’

  The old woman sighed. ‘I am too old to get water from the river and I am very thirsty,’ she said. The leper girl felt very sorry for the woman, so she sat her under a shady tree then took the woman’s calabash and filled it with sweet, cold water from the river. The woman drank it thirstily before saying farewell. ‘Bless you, sweet girl, and good luck,’ the old woman said, and waved the girl goodbye.

  The three girls were the first to arrive at the kingdom, and were shown by the elders to a beautiful hut. Inside were three beds, three bright woollen blankets, and a place for them to put their bags. The girls were very happy – it was perfect for them. Until, that is, they saw the leper girl arrive at the same door. ‘Don’t worry about her,’ the girls said to the elders. ‘She is a stupid, sick girl, and can sleep on the floor. If we leave the door open, perhaps a lion might even eat her in the night.’

  As the leper girl lay miserably on the floor, the girls feasted and dr
ank and danced at the king’s house, until it was time to go to bed. Then they went back to their beds and soft blankets and dreamt of feasts and weddings.

  Not everyone in the kingdom was asleep, though. During the night, the king’s dreams had been interrupted by the voice of a wise old woman speaking to him. ‘Find a girl with a peaceful face and she will be the queen of your dreams,’ she had said.

  Feeling that this voice was a prophecy, the king quietly stole out of his hut and crept around his village, looking at the sleeping faces of all the women. Some snored. Some sniffed. And some grunted. ‘None of these will do,’ the king sighed, creeping away.

  Then he saw a hut with the door open. Quietly he tiptoed up to it and lying in the doorway, on the bare floor, he saw a girl with the most peaceful face he had ever seen. ‘The old woman was right: a girl’s heart is reflected in her face,’ he thought. Without waking her, he gently picked her up and carried her back to his palace.

  In the morning, the three beautiful girls woke up and looked at the floor. ‘Hurrah!’ they shouted. ‘The lion has had supper. He has come in at night and stolen the leper girl!’ They danced around the room and celebrated, for the scabby leper girl was gone. Their way was now clear to enchant the king.

  But just as they had put on their beautiful new clothes, and rubbed oil into their skins, the drums started to beat. ‘All come outside, All come outside, It’s time to celebrate, our king has a bride!’ said the drums. The girls looked at each other in horror, then ran into the sunlight.

  Sure enough, beside the king on a carved wooden throne, sat the leper girl. But instead of a sick, scabby girl, there sat a beautiful lady, with the softest skin, the widest smile, the whitest teeth and the kindest face anyone had ever seen. ‘Warriors, elders and people of my kingdom,’ said the king. ‘I present to you my queen.’

  The girls gasped. As they stared, with their mouths hanging open, an old lady came up to them – the old lady they had passed on the pathway. ‘Remember, girls, that goodness is always rewarded,’ she said. ‘And a good person’s heart is always reflected in her face – even if it is temporarily scarred by sores.’