The three girls walked home quietly, thinking of the lesson they had learnt. And the queen celebrated in her new home – beside the king in the palace of the great kingdom.
The leopard’s promise
Told to me in Tonga by Mafuta Siabwanda, a builder in Bulawayo, and in Shona by Justice Chinamhora in Harare, Zimbabwe
One day Leopard was dragging home an antelope for his supper when he fell into a big, black pit made by a man.
Leopard felt very sorry for himself. The pit was deep and dark and cold and his body was battered and bruised from the fall. What was he going to do? he panicked. How was he going to get out? Then from above he heard a laugh. It was Hyena! ‘Help! Help, Hyena!’ roared Leopard from trap. ‘I have fallen in a pit. Please help me.’
But Hyena was in no mood to help Leopard. ‘What do you do for me?’ he howled. ‘You always call me a scavenger, so I am going to do just that. I am going to take your antelope and enjoy it in peace. Goodbye!’ Then off he trotted.
The furious leopard wasn’t left alone long, though. The path the man had dug the pit in was used by most jungle animals, and soon Leopard had all sort of animals peering over the edge. First the baboons sauntered by, then the warthogs. The birds flew in and the giraffe peered in. But not a single one would lend a hand. Leopard had killed too many of their friends for his supper.
One day passed, then another. Just as Leopard was getting desperate, a man walked by. ‘Please, kind Man, help me out of here,’ whimpered Leopard. ‘I am thirsty and hungry, and if you don’t help me, I will die. Please hear my cry!’
The man looked sympathetically at the Leopard. He was indeed thin. And he did look bruised and tired. ‘If I let you out, Leopard, you have to promise one thing,’ he said, staring Leopard in the eye. ‘You cannot catch me or eat me. And you will leave Man alone for ever more.’
Leopard, desperate to get out of the pit, nodded his head. ‘I promise,’ he purred, ‘I promise!’ So the man nervously lowered his hand, held on to Leopard’s paw and hauled him from the deep, dark pit. But as soon as he was on firm ground, Leopard’s eyes sparkled and mouth watered. ‘Hurrah, supper!’ he snarled hungrily at the man. ‘I never thought I would find food so fast!’
The man’s body shook with terror. ‘You promised, Leopard,’ he quivered, ‘that you would never eat me or another man again. You promised!’
But Leopard growled grumpily. ‘That was then and this is now, you silly man!’ he said. ‘Wait until I have sharpened my claws!’
The man was desperate. He looked round for help, but there was no one about. The only thing nearby was the river. ‘River, river, help me!’ he shouted, ‘Leopard wants to eat me for tea!’
But the river just ambled by. ‘Why should I help you, Man?’ it gurgled. ‘You wash your dirty clothes in me, swim in me and drink me. What have you ever done to help me?’ The man sighed. He knew the river was right.
So he turned to the trees. ‘Trees, trees, come and help me,’ he begged. ‘The Leopard wants to eat me for tea!’ But the trees, too, turned their leaves away. ‘We shade you, let your children climb us, and all you do is burn us!’ they rustled in the wind. ‘When you learn to help us, we’ll help you, Man.’
In desperation, the man turned to Hare, who was hopping along the path. ‘Hare, please help me,’ he begged. ‘Leopard promised not to harm me, but now he wants to eat me for tea.’
The hare turned to the leopard. ‘Is this true?’ he asked, looking sternly at the big cat. ‘Yes it is,’ growled Leopard, sizing up the appetising hare. ‘But why should I not eat this man? His brothers are the ones who dug the pit. His fathers are the ones who spear my family. And his sisters are the ones who shout at me if I visit their village. What’s a promise if Man has only ever harmed me?’
‘I see,’ said Hare thoughtfully. ‘This is rather complicated. And I am not sure I follow it all. If you don’t mind, kind Leopard, I would like you to go back to the very beginning and show me exactly what happened. Once I’ve seen it with my own eyes, at least I can judge whether you should eat the man for tea.’
Wanting food as quickly as possible, Leopard agreed. Just as Hare had asked, he leapt down the pit again, and started to relate the story – of how Hyena had refused to rescue him, and the baboons, and the birds, and even Warthog. Then he got to the part when Man came along.
‘Please will you help me out Man?’ he said again, staring out of the pit at the hare and the man. This time, though, what do you think the man answered.
‘I trusted you once, but I won’t do it again, you foolish Leopard. A liar like you deserves to stay in a deep, dark pit. And a friendly, helpful man like me deserves to go home with his friend Hare for tea. Goodbye.’
And off the man went, pondering the lessons he had learnt that day. From then on, he only cut trees that were old and dying so that the trees would be his friends. He washed his clothes in a bowl, so the river would respect him again. He stopped trapping hares in snares, for it was the wise little long-eared creature which had helped him escape. And he never, ever trusted a leopard again. His mother had always told him that a leopard never changes its spots – that a hungry leopard will always be a hungry leopard no matter how many promises it makes. But until that day he hadn’t known what she meant. Now he did – and he never forgot it.
The leopard and the dog
Told to me in Bemba by Christina Mumba on the Kalamazi rose farm outside Lusaka, Zambia
A long time ago, when the earth was young, Leopard and Dog were great friends. Every day the two of them would walk in the tall grasses together, hunt hares, sip cool water from the river and sit in the evening sharing a delicious meal of duiker, rabbit, or bushpig – whatever they had caught that day. Wherever Dog went, Leopard went. And vice versa.
One day, Leopard decided he wanted to marry. He’d been a bachelor long enough, he said, and wanted a mate to have cubs with. So, he packed his little bag, waved goodbye to Dog and set off on a journey to find a bride.
A few weeks later, Leopard was back, looking very pleased with himself. Not only had he met a beautiful girl who he loved with all his heart, he told Dog, but her father had agreed to let them marry. All he had to do was go back to pay the bride’s father lobola (the price all bridegrooms must pay for a bride’s hand) and discuss the details of the wedding. Then he’d have his own wife.
The next few days the two friends gathered together gifts that would impress the bride’s father. Dog poured some strong, fresh beer into a pumpkin calabash. Leopard knocked down ripe figs from the tree. Then the pair of them raided the termites’ nest for the sweetest, softest, whitest termites they could find – a treat no one could resist.
On the day of their journey, the two animals got up before dawn, and made sure they were handsome enough to meet a bride. While the vain Leopard licked and picked and flicked his fur until it glowed golden in the dawn light, Dog loaded their gifts into a little bag on his back. Then the friends set off on the long wedding journey.
At first the air was cool, and the paths soft and well shaded. But by noon, when the sun was high in the sky, both animals were exhausted. ‘Let’s sing,’ suggested Leopard, purring a tune to himself. ‘I know a great song that would put a spring in our steps!’ And he started to sing, waving his hips in time to the tune as he padded along. ‘Bonyoro kenda, bonyoro kenda nogoro ya ngui.’ And again: ‘Bonyoro kenda, bonyoro kenda nogoro ya ngui.’
Rather than lift Dog’s spirits, though, the song made him very upset. ‘When the dog was created, God made a mistake, because his bottom waddles like that of a goose!’ he thought indignantly. ‘How dare Leopard insult me so much! How dare he!’
As he walked along, trying to think of his own song that might pay Leopard back, Dog got crosser and crosser. ‘Some friend!’ he sulked.
‘I think I’m going to have to teach him a lesson. All this talk of beautiful brides has made him far too big for his paws.’
When they got to a thicket of dense green bushes, D
og called out to the sniggering, singing Leopard. ‘My dear friend, Leopard,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Please do excuse me a second. I must do some urgent business here – I won’t be long.’ And off he dashed into the thicket.
Out of the sight of Leopard, Dog quickly slung the gifts from his back, and took out the bag of termites. ‘Bow, wow, wow!’ he giggled, wagging his tail in excitement. ‘This trick will surely pay that sniggering Leopard back.’
After putting a small portion of termites aside, Dog then set about eating every single termite in the bag, delicious mouthful after delicious mouthful, until he felt quite sick. Then in one quick motion, he vomited them all up back into the bag – every single ant. ‘A terrible waste,’ Dog sighed, surveying the bag of nasty-smelling sick. ‘But oh! What sweet revenge!’ He then took the little portion of live termites that he had put aside on the top of the thick, sticky mess to disguise it, put the bag back on his back and went again to join Leopard.
On the journey, Leopard continued to sing his insulting song, howling louder and louder as they went, smugly thinking that Dog was too stupid to understand it. Dogs, as you know, are very clever, and this one not only understood it, but had already planned his revenge. ‘Just wait, you pompous cat, just you wait,’ growled Dog to himself. ‘You’ll be sorry.’
At sunset, when the pair arrived at the village, the bride’s family excitedly gathered round to welcome their guests. Leopard was a fine prospective husband, they all agreed, with his spotted golden coat, sharp white teeth and fine hunting claws. Soon they were all chatting round the fire, planning dances and feasts and wedding celebrations.
While Leopard showed off round the fire, boasting to his new family of the great kills he had made, the kudu he had eaten, and the great mountains he had climbed, Dog quietly laid the termite bag near the fire, and crept off into the darkness.
Soon it was supper time, but when the hosts came to give Dog some of the celebratory feast, he wasn’t there. No matter how hard they called or how shrilly they whistled, he was gone.
Leopard wasn’t worried about his friend at all. In fact, he was rather enjoying the tribe’s undivided attention. ‘Don’t worry about Dog,’ he said, in that smooth voice that leopards have. ‘He’ll be back, he’ll be back. Now, about that kudu I was telling you …’
After a feast of stew and maize meal and several horns of beer, it was time, the elders of the tribe decided, to bring out Leopard’s gifts. A young boy was summoned to bring the bag over, and at once the father of the bride started to open it. As he did so, his eyes glowed. ‘Figs! And beer! And termites!’ he exclaimed, obviously delighted with the big bag of treats. ‘Bring me some baskets – pudding has begun!’
Two long baskets were brought for the termite feast, and a boy gently started to take out the sweet, white creatures with his fingers. But after some real termites, a fetid yellow substance started to stick to his hands, and something disgusting flowed from the bag – something thick, and sticky, and very smelly. Something that looked remarkably like dog sick.
The elders of the tribe were furious. ‘You woo our precious bride, you eat our food, you drink our beer – and what do you bring us?’ they shouted angrily at Leopard, waving their spears in the firelight. ‘Shame, Leopard, shame! This is a very sick joke. Be gone! We will never forget this. From now on, you will be our enemy!’
As the warriors’ shouts turned louder and louder, the terrified leopard leapt up and, with his tail between his legs, ran off into the dark night. Being far too embarrassed to go home in such disgrace without a wife, he sadly padded off into the hills. He has lived there alone ever since, far away from Man and Dog, only ever coming out at night. And Dog, being a clever kind of creature, now lives with Man, for he knows that wherever he goes, Leopard will be on the lookout for him.
The incredible Mr Tortoise
Told to me in Bemba by a leper, Costa Chibilikita, at the Latete leper colony in Zambia and in Bemba by David Siame in Fringilla, Zambia
There was a time when, although Tortoise was very small, he had a very high opinion of himself. ‘I am the strongest creature in the kingdom,’ he would boast to whoever would listen. ‘No one else in the jungle is as powerful as me.’
In the beginning, most animals just ignored the little creature’s idle boasts. But soon the big boys began to get irritated – especially Elephant and Hippo, who, as we all know, are the strongest animals in the jungle. ‘How could such a weak little creature think he is as powerful as us?’ they harrumphed. ‘Who does that scaly little longnecked shell think he is?’ And off they snorted, and stamped and trumpeted, just to prove to the jungle what big fellows they were.
The little Quelea, who was a nosy little bird with a red bill, heard the earth shake and the trees fall as the big boys stomped about, and immediately flew off to warn Tortoise. ‘I would keep right out of the way of Elephant and Hippo,’ he chirruped and chirped, hopping in the trees about Tortoise’s head. ‘They’re in a bad mood, Tortoise, and if you don’t watch it, they’ll squash you flat with one of their big flat front feet.’
But Tortoise just smiled to himself. ‘I’ll show them all,’ he said, a wide smile breaking out on his brown scaly face. ‘I will show them what strength is.’
First thing the next morning, Tortoise stretched his long head and legs out of his shell, nibbled on a bit of dewy grass for breakfast, and started the long trundle to find Elephant. It took a while, as tortoises aren’t the speediest of creatures, but at last he found the mighty Elephant nibbling fresh acacia leaves in the forest.
‘Greetings Mr Elephant,’ he shouted up in the loudest voice he could muster. ‘If you don’t mind, I want to talk to you.’ Elephant couldn’t believe his big grey ears. ‘You want to talk to me!’ he trumpeted at the little creature in astonishment. ‘Why, yes, in fact I do, Mr Elephant. I think we have something to discuss. A little bird told me that you believe I am not as strong as you. And I think you are wrong. In fact, I believe that equals like us should stick together and be friends.’
Elephant was so taken aback by the creature’s cheek that soon he began to see the funny side. ‘You! Mr Tortoise! You think you are as strong as the rock of the jungle?’ he cried, rocking with laughter. ‘And how are you going to prove that, you skinny-legged reptile?’
‘Well,’ said Tortoise, a bit put out. ‘I thought that perhaps we might have a tug of war. If either of us can pull the other from his place, he is the most powerful. If neither of us can manage it, we must agree that we are equals.’
Elephant thought it was rather a foolish idea. As everyone knew, he could pull Tortoise into the air with just one tug. But, to settle the matter, he agreed. ‘Right, tomorrow it is,’ he said, as Tortoise handed him the end of a very long vine. ‘But you’d better hold on tight to your end, Tortoise, for tomorrow I am going to make you fly!’
Tortoise then set off to see Hippo, who was cooling off in a shallow pool. ‘Hello Mr Hippo,’ he said, as Hippo opened one eye above the water. ‘I was just wondering whether you could help out with something. Would you agree that I am stronger than you?’ Hippo thought he was hearing things. ‘How can you think you are as strong as I, the Water Cow?’ he snorted furiously, blowing big bubbles from his nose. ‘Get away, you silly creature, before I toss you into the air with one of my teeth!’ With that, he gave a grunt, and disappeared crossly underwater.
Ten minutes later, when Hippo surfaced again, Tortoise was still there. He couldn’t believe the little creature’s cheek. ‘Are you deaf as well as stupid?’ grunted Hippo with a nasty glint in his eye. ‘Which part of ‘‘go away’’ do you not understand?’
‘Well,’ said Tortoise, marching up to the river creature, his head held high. ‘It’s just that the rest of the animals have all agreed with me that I am stronger than you. And I just thought it would be a good chance for you to prove them wrong. But if you don’t want to, fine!’ And off he stamped.
Hippo couldn’t believe his stumpy little ears. How could the an
imals believe that that timid Tortoise was stronger than him? So he called Tortoise back. ‘If that’s how you want it, fine!’ he snorted. ‘But I’m warning you, Tortoise: I am still going to toss you into the air with my teeth once I have pulled you over here.’ Timidly, Tortoise gave him his end of the vine and agreed that tomorrow, when Tortoise tugged on his end of the vine, Hippo would tug too.
Early the next morning Tortoise went to the centre of the vine and started to shake it. And, just as he had predicted, Elephant began to pull on his end. Then five seconds later Hippo started. Tortoise was delighted. ‘My trick has worked, my trick has worked! What a clever Tortoise I am!’ he sang, waving his stumpy legs in the air. ‘Now we’ll see what strength is.’
All day the two enormous animals pulled. As morning turned to afternoon, they got increasingly tired and sweaty. But neither would give up. Elephant pulled and puffed, as the vine twisted round his stretching trunk. And Hippo heaved and huffed, tugging hard on the vine twisted around his tooth. But neither would consider letting Tortoise win.
After a while, Tortoise began to feel sorry for the beasts. It was a hot day and they must both be exhausted. So, taking a knife, he walked to the centre of the vine and, with a little slash, cut it in two. From one end of the jungle came an almighty crash. And from the other end, rose an almighty splash. Oh, how hard those animals must have fallen, he giggled.
Running as fast as his little legs would take him Tortoise went first to visit Elephant, who had fallen on his back, his trunk twisted and blue from pulling so hard. ‘Why Tortoise,’ Elephant whimpered, as he tried to raise his great, grey body off the ground. ‘I had no idea you were as strong as you are. I apologise for my rudeness. From now on, consider yourself my equal.’ And he put out his battered trunk in friendship.
Tortoise shook his trunk happily, then marched over to the pool to see Hippo. Usually the creature was lazily poking an eye out of the water, but this time, he was floating on its surface, exhausted, with one of his huge teeth missing. ‘My thear Thorthoise,’ said Hippo, lisping through the gap where his tooth was. ‘I am tho thorry I was tho rude. Pleath leths be frienths.’ And he slowly swam out to offer a fat paw to Tortoise.
Stories Gogo Told Me Page 8