Stories Gogo Told Me

by Lisa Grainger

  Monkey was very excited at being chosen by the king, and after he had waved all the animals goodbye, he started the long swim across the lagoon to the area where Man lived. He swam and he swam and he swam, his long tail trailing behind him. When he eventually pulled himself up on to Man’s land, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Instead of a jungle, there, in front of him, were huge areas of flat land, planted in rows with plants. Instead of trees to live in, there were little round shelters covered with thatch. And instead of an assortment of furry creatures walking around – like where he came from in the jungle – there were strange, upright, furless creatures who carried shiny tools about.

  Monkey didn’t like the look of them at all. So, instead of introducing himself to Man, he quietly climbed a tree where he sat all day and watched what Man did. He saw him hoeing and ploughing, making fires and cooking, and washing and sweeping. Then, in the afternoon, he watched Man going into the rows and rows of plants and picking off them long green vegetables that smelt sweet and ripe. ‘That was the smell that had wafted across the water!’ Monkey thought excitedly. ‘I will have to take one back for the king.’

  That evening, when the men gathered in a circle round a fire, Monkey climbed from his tree and crept quietly into the field where he’d seen the men picking. The smell was like nothing he had ever smelt before – a mixture of butterfruit, and marulas and guavas and cabbage all rolled into one. Looking round to make sure no one was watching, Monkey pinched one. Hiding in the stalks, he peeled off its green layers and slowly started to nibble. The thing was delicious! So he had another. And another. And another, until his stomach was as round as a melon. ‘I think it’s time to go home now,’ he thought, satisfied at his feast. He packed two into his little bag, and happily sauntered back to the lake to swim home.

  Imagine his horror when from behind a bush jumped a man with a net which he placed over Monkey’s neck. ‘Screeeeeeeech! Screeeeeeech!’ screamed Monkey in terror. ‘Please let me go. I was sent by the king and I must return. Do not harm me, please!’

  The man was not convinced, though. ‘Sorry, but in our culture if someone steals from us, we take his heart away,’ the man said. ‘And while I have never seen a creature like you, you have stolen from us, and I must take your heart. Please give it to me.’

  Monkey had never heard of this custom, but, as King Lion had said, he was a fast thinker in times of trouble. ‘Oh Clever Man, Oh Kind Man, Oh Generous Man,’ he said craftily. ‘I am from the animal kingdom and we do not keep our hearts in our bodies. Our king keeps them for us. I agree that I have done wrong to you, and that I should give you my heart. So please will you row me across the river to my king.’

  The man did not know what to do. He had never heard of a king keeping hearts before. But then again, he had never met a creature with fur on. So he agreed and soon he and Monkey were in his boat, rowing across the water towards the jungle.

  Once they got near the jungle shore, Monkey started singing a song. The man couldn’t speak his language, so he couldn’t understand it when Monkey sang: ‘Crocodiles, crocodiles, come out and greet me, or else this man is going to eat me!’ One crocodile appeared. Again Monkey sang it. Another crocodile appeared. Monkey sang and sang and sang until the boat was completely surrounded by hungry crocodiles, forming a bridge between him and the land.

  Monkey then jumped out of the boat and jumped across his friends’ backs into the jungle. ‘Foolish man!’ he shouted. ‘Do you not know that animals’ hearts are in the same place as yours, and feel pain as strongly as you do? Know now that if you try to take our hearts, you will have to face all the animals in the jungle. We are all friends and you are our new enemy!’

  And as he said it, the crocodiles all rose up out of the water and tossed the man into the air, and into their waiting mouths.

  Man still hates monkeys for stealing his maize. And monkeys still remember their first meeting with Man. Today, if you see a monkey, watch what he does to his chest. He beats it with his fist in the very place his heart lives. It’s a reminder to Man that animals have a heart, just like he does.

  The day Man met fire

  Told to me in San by Kgao Xishee in XaiXai, Botswana

  Once upon a time, when the earth was still very young, Man had never seen fire. Everything he ate was raw – roots from the soil, milk from cows, eggs from birds, and fruits from the trees. All the heat he needed came from the sun – from its bright rays during the day, and the warm sand at night. And all the water he drank came from cool streams. Man wanted for nothing.

  One day, when he was out hunting, Man looked up to the horizon and saw a tall, thin cloud spiralling up into the sky from the side of a mountain. He had never seen a cloud climbing from the ground before so, carrying his spear, he went to investigate.

  Man got closer and closer, until at last he reached the mountain. There, on a stony ledge, he saw the cloud on the ground, cloaked in orange and red, and shooting out sparks and red trails. Man had never met a cloud like this, but, being a friendly man, he approached it with a smile. ‘Hello stranger!’ he said. ‘I have lived here since the earth began, but we have never met before. Who are you?’

  The fire was very pleased to have visitors, and urged the man to come closer. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘warm your body on mine and enjoy my light. I am Fire, servant of the great creator of the sky, and am here to add pleasure to the world. Come closer, come closer.’

  Man did as he was invited and was astonished that the nearer he got to his new friend, the warmer his body became. And the longer he stayed, the happier he felt. At the end of the visit, he was quite reluctant to leave. ‘Please Fire, come and visit my home,’ he begged. ‘I would love my wife and family to feel the warmth of your company and the light of your face. Perhaps, if you liked them, you might even stay for ever.’

  Fire had enjoyed Man’s company immensely, but sadly said no. ‘It is very kind of you, Man, but everything has its home, and mine is here,’ he said. ‘But please come and visit whenever you like.’

  On that condition, Man left, and as soon as he was home he told his family about his new friend. ‘You’ve never met anyone so beautiful,’ he exclaimed. ‘His feet were blue and purple, his legs and body swathed in red, and around his head darted flickering lights of yellow and gold. Even his breath, wife, was a sight: all clouds of blue and grey, with a crackling laugh. Oh, how I enjoyed meeting him!’

  Again and again Man went to visit, every time begging his friend to return home with him. Eventually, his friend gave in. ‘But please don’t blame me if things go wrong,’ Fire said to Man. ‘I have an uncontrollable appetite and sometimes can’t help eating everything in sight.’

  Man happily agreed, and then set off home where he asked his wife to prepare the most sumptuous feast the village had ever seen. She cut fine fruits and dug up their favourite roots. She milked cows and sliced vegetables. And, as a special treat, Man gathered two ostrich eggs to drink. Fire had said he had an appetite, he thought proudly. But there was no way he would be able to eat all of this!

  The day of the visit eventually came and on the horizon Man could see Fire leaving his mountain, his spire of smoke rising gently into the sky. At first, Fire was well-mannered and quiet. But as he got hungrier on his way down the mountain, his fingers began to flicker out greedily, snatching little mouthfuls of grass, then patches of dry bush. Soon he was eating everything in sight, his enormous flames pulling down trees and crisping the countryside. The friendly fire had turned into a big bad blaze.

  Man wasn’t sure what to do. At first, he enjoyed the sight of his friend’s colourful body marching through the bush. Then, as birds and bushbuck started to flee past him, he began to worry. His friend had eaten huts, then trees, then the crops. What would happen when Fire got to him? He soon found out.

  In a cloud of smoke and sparks, Fire arrived at Man’s house and demanded food. ‘I’m here, Man,’ he roared, red arms flaming up into the sky. ‘I’m hungry and I want to eat.’ And fro
m his body shot a great flash of light.

  Man had never felt such heat, and with a scream, he and his wife ran from the fire until they got to the river. They jumped into the cool water and there they stayed, until at last Fire burnt himself out, and his great red body vanished in puffs of clouds. At last they were safe.

  Sadly, Man and his wife wandered home. They had lost everything – their house, their fields and their crops. All that was left was a big black mess – and the black, burnt remains of the feast. But something else had happened in the house: the smell had changed. As they wandered from plate to plate, great wafts of perfumes they had never smelled before rose from the burning embers: crisp hot potatoes, boiled milk, roasted carrots and baked eggs.

  They looked at each other in puzzlement. This wasn’t what their food normally smelled like. So they picked it up, and nibbled. It was delicious. And it was warm and soft. ‘You see, Wife!’ said Man excitedly. ‘Our friend may have ruined our house, but look what he has done to our food. It’s a feast fit for a king!’

  They called their neighbours, and from all around villagers flocked to taste the feast Fire had created. It was the tastiest food they had ever had. Soon, everybody wanted to invite Man’s friend Fire into their kitchen – if he behaved.

  With so many new friends begging him to return, Fire at last agreed. But this time he insisted that Man came to fetch him. As everyone had learnt, when Fire is left on his own, he has an unstoppable appetite. But if he is collected, and is surrounded by special stones that stop him wandering, he can be their best friend. He is warm. He brings light. And he improves good food. What more could a man need from a friend?

  The day Hyena learned about luck

  Told to me in Chichewa by Robert Temba outside Lusaka, Zambia

  A long time ago, Hare, Lion and Hyena were friends. They ate together, they drank together and they hunted together. Every sunset they would sit by the waterhole, drinking and talking about the meaning of life.

  One day, Hyena came to the waterhole with a puzzled face. ‘Hare,’ he said to his friend. ‘I keeping hearing animals talking about lucky and unlucky, but I don’t know what the words mean. Would you please tell me?’

  Hare wasn’t quite sure how to explain the words to Hyena. ‘Just remember that lucky animals talk and unlucky ones don’t,’ he said. Hyena scratched his head. ‘I still don’t understand,’ he said, looking downcast. ‘Well, if you wait,’ said Hare, sighing impatiently, ‘maybe one day I will show you.’

  Later that week, Hare met his other friend Lion for a drink. He noticed his friend was looking weak and thin. ‘Are you all right, Lion?’ asked Hare, concerned about his friend. ‘Not really, Hare,’ said the skinny lion. ‘I am starving and haven’t eaten for weeks. Look, you can even see my ribs.’

  It was true. The lion’s body was as thin as a snake’s. Hare thought for a while, then came up with a plan. ‘Meet me down at the riverbank at sunset,’ Hare said, ‘and together we will try and find supper.’ Lion thanked him and, dreaming of food, he padded home.

  Hare then went to visit Hyena. ‘Your lucky day has arrived,’ Hare said. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you what lucky really means.’ Then he led Hyena down to a large tree on the riverbank and told him to climb it. ‘But once you are up, don’t move or make a sound,’ he warned. ‘Then you will understand what lucky means.’ Hyena did as he was told, and soon all that was visible of him was his reflection in the river below.

  Hare then settled down and waited for his friend Lion to arrive. Soon he saw the thin creature wandering up the riverbank. ‘My friend Lion, I’m so glad you’ve come,’ said Hare, bounding up to him. ‘Look what I have seen for your supper.’ He pointed to the river, and, sure enough, on the shiny flat surface of the water Lion could see a delicious fat-looking Hyena.

  Lion couldn’t believe his luck – supper, and so close, too! He sharpened his claws, focused his eyes, crouched down and, with a great roar, sprang onto the hyena on the river. But what a shock he got! Instead of delicious supper in his mouth, he got a throat full of water. ‘Oh Hare,’ Lion choked, coughing and spluttering as crawled out of the river, shaking water off his coat. ‘I’m not sure what happened. One minute there was a hyena in front of me, and the next minute I was drowning, and now I am wet and cold, as well as hungry, so I think I should go home.’ And off Lion padded, dripping down the path.

  Hyena lay on the branch shaking with fear. He couldn’t believe that his old friend Lion would ever try to eat him. ‘Well, Hyena, you certainly know what lucky means now,’ laughed Hare as the quivering creature climbed down the tree. ‘You can still talk, can’t you? That’s a sure sign you are lucky.’ Hyena nodded and, thinking about the lesson he learnt, he wandered home.

  A few days later, though, Hyena had another query. ‘Hare, I now know about lucky,’ he said. ‘But what about unlucky?’ Hare was fed up with all this questioning. ‘I have told you before: those that can talk are lucky and those who can’t are unlucky. That’s all,’ he said crossly.

  ‘Just be grateful you can talk.’ But Hyena pestered him so much that eventually Hare gave in. ‘Right, you want to see what unlucky is?’ he said in a grumpy voice. ‘Fine. Climb that same tree at sunset and I’ll show you.’

  When Lion and Hare met that evening for their daily drink, to Lion’s amazement, he saw yet another fat hyena lying on the river surface. After his last experience, he was very reluctant to try catching the creature again, but he was still very hungry. So he took Hare’s advice. ‘The thing with life is that sometimes you are lucky and sometimes you are unlucky. Sometimes you have just got to look for the right signs,’ he said.

  Hare then stuck his second finger up into the air and pointed at the tree. Lion wasn’t quite sure what Hare meant, but, as he’d been told to follow signs, he followed the finger and looked up. There, on a branch overlooking the river, he spotted Hyena. ‘Dinner!’ he roared, and leapt up the tree. Soon, after a bit of biting and fighting, he was munching and crunching, having the best supper he’d had in a long time.

  The crafty Hare left Lion to his feast, and went home whistling down the path. ‘I suppose it’s a pity that Hyena learnt his lesson such a hard way,’ he said to himself. ‘But he didn’t listen. I told him lucky creatures could talk and unlucky ones couldn’t – so you would have thought he’d have understood the warning.’

  Hyenas have been much wiser ever since. They are not friends with any one today – particularly crafty hares and hungry lions. Whenever you see them, watch the way they look at lions with suspicious eyes. They remember that day in hyena history when their ancestors learnt the meaning of unlucky – the hard way.

  The hyena and the heron

  Told to me in Shona by Miriam Mlambo, who has been telling traditional stories on Zimbabwean radio since 1956

  Hyena has always been a lazy creature, living off the scraps from other animals’ meals, but a long time ago, he didn’t even want to do that. He wanted someone to look after him, to provide for him and feed him. ‘What I need is a wife,’ he thought, as he lay lazily under a tree, panting in the heat. ‘She cannot be a hyena, for like me she will prefer lying in the shade. I need another kind of wife.’

  One day, as he was walking through the forest to the river to get some water, he saw the most gorgeous bird he had ever seen. She was standing in a shallow pool, fishing, and as she dipped her head delicately into the water, Hyena noticed her soft grey wings, her delicate white feathers and her long golden legs.

  ‘What a beauty!’ Hyena thought excitedly, as he brushed off his dusty spotted coat and padded towards the pool. When he got there, he slunk forward and, with a sly smile, introduced himself to the bird. ‘Good morning, beautiful stranger,’ he said, his tail slinking to the ground. ‘I am Hyena, King of the Jungle. Who, beautiful bird, are you?’

  The heron was flattered that she, a simple bird, should be visited by a great king and her head feathers flushed with excitement. ‘Why, I live here by the water, in a big ne
st with my family,’ she said in a friendly voice. ‘None of us has ever met a hyena before and I am sure my family would be delighted. Can I tempt you to visit?’

  Hyena was delighted, for he knew that an invitation like that usually meant food. Being a greedy fellow, who enjoyed a good gorge, he accepted at once, and soon he and Heron were walking happily along the riverbank towards the heron family’s great nest. As Hyena expected, the family laid on a great spread of fish and frogs and crabs and small birds – all freshly caught that morning. He had never had such a fine fresh feast.

  Having thanked the family, that evening Hyena set off home and again began to think about a wife. ‘Wouldn’t it be a fine thing,’ he thought, ‘to be served such a fine feast every day? Perhaps I should marry the heron!’ The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of being served. So the next day, after a quick wash in a jungle pool, he set off early to ask Heron’s father for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

  Mr Heron was delighted. No heron had ever married an animal before – never mind a king – and he and Mrs Heron soon set about preparing a great feast for the wedding of their daughter.

  The great day came and Hyena settled happily into the great heron family and being waited on by his dutiful wife. But one day she came to him. ‘Husband, oh King, oh Lord of the Jungle,’ she said dutifully, lowering her head before the lazy beast. ‘The other male herons are going out fishing this afternoon and have asked you to go with them. Can I prepare a fishing sack for you?’

  Hyena had never been fishing before, but not wanting to be outshone by the others, he grumpily agreed. When they got to the river, though, Hyena remembered why he had never been fishing before: he hated water and he couldn’t swim. He had to find a way out of it. ‘Brother Herons,’ he said craftily. ‘I know a pool where fish are plentiful, but can only be reached by those with legs. So I will have to leave you here. But I will see you later with my catch.’ And off he slunk into the undergrowth.