Stories Gogo Told Me

by Lisa Grainger

  Hyena headed toward a small, shallow pool along the river he’d seen. But once he got there, he stopped. How did one catch fish? he wondered. Besides, what did a live fish look like? He has never seen a live one in his life. Slowly, he walked to the edge of the pool, and careful not to fall in, he looked into the water.

  There, in the cloudy green pond were all manner of moving creatures, leaping and hopping about. Some were fat, some thin, some high-jumpers, some long-jumpers. All were green. ‘Marvellous,’ thought Hyena, howling with laughter. ‘This will take me no time!’ He took his bag, scooped it into the water and soon had a sack full of wriggling creatures to take home.

  Back at the clear pond, the Herons were having less luck. ‘Well, that’s why I am a king and you are not,’ said Hyena with a smirk. ‘See you later.’ And off he slunk back to his wife’s tree, under which he settled for a snooze.

  At sunset, when the herons strutted back with their bags of fish, there was great excitement. Each bird lined up with his bag, and one by one, emptied the wriggling silver piles of fish onto the grass. Then came Hyena’s turn. ‘Of course, it took me only a few minutes,’ he said arrogantly, and turned his bag upside down. When the contents fell out, the herons couldn’t believe their eyes. On the ground lay a greasy, messy, wriggly, heaving mass of smelly green frogs.

  The herons burst into howls of laughter. ‘Kraaaaaaak! Krrraaaaaak!’ they cackled, flapping their wings and snapping their beaks with mirth. ‘You think those are fish, do you? Very funny, Hyena, very funny! Are you sure you are a king, Hyena? Wouldn’t a king know these things?’

  Then they turned to Hyena’s wife, who was now blushing with shame. ‘How on earth did you agree to marry this man?’ they croaked. ‘He doesn’t even know a frog from a fish!’ Knowing they were right, she hung her head. Her father, too, hung his head, realising he had been tricked into arranging such a ridiculous marriage. ‘No wonder a bird has never married an animal,’ he muttered. ‘Those with feathers should stick together.’

  Hyena, realising he had been found out, slunk off to live in hills far away, where he could hide. He’s never tried fishing again. For even now, if he goes near water, you’ll hear the herons mocking him. ‘Kwaaak, kwaaak, caught a frog?’ you’ll hear them cry. If you ever wondered why hyenas slink around ashamedly, now you know why.

  There are several variations on this story – one about a man who marries a meerkat (which steals all his eggs and chickens at night), another about a woman who marries a cow (which spends all day ploughing fields for no reason) and another about a woman who marries a dog (which spends all night scavenging rubbish in the dump until it is shot). They are told in every southern African country.

  The day Hare lost his head

  Told to me in Shona by Justice Chinamhora in Harare, Zimbabwe

  In the days when the earth was young, Hare and Cockerel were good friends and lived opposite each other at the edge of the kraal. Cockerel and his wife Mrs Hen roosted on the roof of a hut from which Mr Cock crowed every morning to tell the creatures that dawn had broken. And Hare and his wife had a burrow nearby, which they had dug deep into the ground to keep their ten baby hares cool.

  The two friends were seldom apart. When Hare hunted in the long grass, Cockerel trailed behind him, pecking up insects that his friend’s legs had disturbed. At dusk, they would dip their heads down together at the river, sipping the cool water. And occasionally, Cock even shared with Hare some pieces of maize he’d found in the fields. Generally, though, it was Hare who was the boss, being the cleverest animal around.

  One day, when Hare came to see his friend, Cock was doing what all cocks do when they rest: he was standing on one foot with his head under his wing. Hare had never visited Cock before when he was resting and was horrified. With eyes wide, he hopped round the hut, calling out to Cock’s wife. ‘Mrs Hen, Mrs Hen,’ he shouted, his whiskers twitching with excitement. ‘I went to see your good husband the Cock, but half of him was missing. His head has gone! And one of his legs!’

  Mrs Hen was most amused that Hare was all a-twitch, because normally the vain creature knew everything. ‘What Mr Hare?’ said Mrs Hen. ‘Do you mean you can’t do that? Obviously my husband is a much cleverer creature than you. When he fancies a rest, he just sends off his leg and his head to do his hunting for him while he stays behind at home in the shade. I’m surprised you don’t do that, too, Mr Hare. Perhaps you aren’t so clever after all.’

  Hare didn’t like being looked down on by a mere kraal chicken and would have liked to have given the clucky Mrs Hen a sharp kick with his back legs. But, being a crafty creature, he merely said: ‘Of course I can do that old trick, Mrs Hen. I just hadn’t realised that Cock could too. I would be delighted if, when Cock’s head is back from hunting, you both came over to my house for a drink to witness my own ability to do the same.’ With a haughty little kick, he leapt off into the air, and in a couple of bounds was home.

  Back in his burrow, he immediately told Mrs Hare about his discovery. ‘Do you know that, while Cock is resting in the shade, one leg and his head are out hunting for him?’ said Mr Hare. Mrs Hare shook her floppy ears. ‘Anyway, I have decided that when the pair of them come for a drink later, I will have to show him that I, too, can do the same. After all, I am the cleverest creature in the land. Prepare the beer, and get out the axe, Mrs Hare, for we are about to show Cock not to be so cheeky with me!’

  The timid Mrs Hare couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I couldn’t possibly chop off your head, my darling Hare,’ she said. ‘Who will look after our ten babies? Who will find me soft, nourishing roots to eat? And who will help me extend our beautiful burrow?’ But Hare was adamant. ‘Mrs Hare,’ he said sternly, looking down his nose at his pretty little bunny wife. ‘Am I not the cleverest animal in the kingdom? If Cock can cut off his head for a while, then why shouldn’t I? Do as I say and cut my head off. Then when our guests arrive, greet them and feed them. When they are full, my head will be back from hunting.’

  Sighing, Mrs Hare picked up the axe and with one big swipe, she chopped off his head. ‘Now, off you go, head of Mr Hare,’ she said. ‘Get up and go hunting!’ But Hare’s head just lay there. ‘Hunt, head of Mr Hare, hunt!’ she ordered again, pointing her finger at her husband’s head. Still it remained motionless on the floor.

  Just then there was a knock at the door. When Mrs Hare went to open it, there stood the fine-feathered figures of Mr Cock and Mrs Hen, ready for their drink. Mrs Hare didn’t know what to do, but, remembering her husband’s orders, she ushered the guests outside, sat them down, poured them beer and offered them some fine corn to snack on.

  After one beer, Hare’s head was still not back. So she poured them another, then another, making excuse after excuse as to the whereabouts of her beloved husband. But eventually, she couldn’t bear it any longer, and crying huge bunny tears, she led them into the burrow where the late Mr Hare lay beside his head.

  For once Cock wasn’t at all saucy and Hen didn’t cluck at all. All they could do was to comfort the widowed Mrs Hare and explain how Cock rested his head naturally with his head beneath his wing, before sadly going home.

  As Cock crowed out the next day, he told the animals of the tragedy: ‘Wisdom doesn’t come from the eye, but from the brain,’ he said. ‘If Hare had bothered to think, rather than just look, he might be here today. But sadly, he didn’t use his head, so he lost it. Hopefully, you animals will not do that.’

  The animals learned a valuable lesson that day, which they still remember: don’t always believe what you see. Think first.

  The curse of the chameleon

  Told to me in Nyemba by John Zulu in the Luangwa Valley, Zambia

  A long time ago, when the earth was young, the Great Spirit looked down and was pleased. The trees he had planted grew tall and lush, the rivers he had filled ran with fish big and small, and the men he had created were working hard in their fields. ‘I think the humans deserve a reward,’ he said. ‘They have tended
their crops, worked hard and lived peacefully together. I will send a message to make them happy.’

  The great god rumbled his thunder, darkened his clouds and called out to the chameleon, who he often used as his messenger. ‘Chameleon,’ he thundered, ‘I have a very important message for Man. Tell him that I am so pleased with him that he will never, ever die. He will live for ever.’

  Chameleon was rather pleased at having been chosen to be the god’s messenger. ‘So, Man will never die,’ he said, swaying self-importantly from side to side. ‘Now there’s a special message to take. Gosh, I am an indispensable fellow.’

  As he ambled slowly from branch to branch, his scaly green eyes swivelling in their sockets, Chameleon chanced upon a whole crop of insects, his favourite food. ‘With such a feast in front of my eyes, how can I resist?’ he said, settling down to snack on a fat juicy insect. One, of course, wasn’t enough, and before he knew it the afternoon had turned to night. ‘Well, Man’s waited so long, I’m sure another day’s wait will not harm,’ he said, rocking gently towards a branch and rolling back his eyes for a good night’s sleep. ‘Good night, green forest, Good night.’

  While Chameleon was having a marvellous feast, the Great Spirit was getting increasingly cross. The men he’d seen tending their crops that morning were now drinking, letting their animals wander, and fighting with their neighbours – all things he’d forbidden them to do. ‘I am mistaken,’ rumbled the god. ‘Man must die after all.’

  Again the Great Spirit rumbled his thunder, darkened his clouds and called out to Lizard, another regular messenger. ‘Lizard,’ he thundered. ‘I have a very important message for you. Tell Man I am very displeased with him. So displeased, in fact that I have decided that he will have to die after all. He will not live for ever.’

  The little lizard, being a nervous fellow, immediately dashed off, thrilled that the great god had noticed him. ‘What a terrible thing,’ he said, whisking his tail in the air. ‘I must hurry and warn Man.’

  Within hours Lizard had leapt over logs, scuttled under stones and dashed along dusty paths to the village where Man lived, without stopping to eat or even have a drink. ‘Man, oh Man,’ he said, his little tongue flicking out dryly. ‘I’m afraid I have terrible news. The Great Spirit is very displeased. He says because of your laziness and violence, rather than having everlasting life, you will die.’

  Naturally, Man was very upset. But it was too late to be sorry. He had done wrong, and now it was time to pay. Great unhappiness set upon the village, and when Chameleon arrived, the air was thick with weeping and wailing. ‘Oh, stop this crying and everyone gather round,’ shouted Chameleon self-importantly. ‘I am the official messenger of the Great Spirit and I have extremely important news.’

  Slowly and self-importantly Chameleon told them his message. When he’d finished there were great songs of joy. ‘We will not die after all,’ the villagers sang, their drums ringing out in celebration. Then Lizard stepped forward. ‘Excuse me, Mr Chameleon,’ he stuttered nervously. ‘But on which day were you given the message?’

  Chameleon stepped from foot to foot, umming and aahing and nervously rolling his eyes. But when at last he told the truth – that in fact he had not just stopped for a feast of radiant bluebottles, buzzy mosquitoes and fat horseflies, but had stayed in the jungle for the night – the humans were furious. ‘If you weren’t so greedy,’ they shouted, ‘we would have lived for ever. It is because of you, fat Chameleon, that we will now die.’

  Chameleon was so embarrassed he wanted to vanish into the background. He shook, he stuttered, and he puffed himself out in terror, but still Man stood there shouting at him. Eventually, the Great Spirit took pity and granted him the ability to the change colour of his skin to match his surroundings when he needed to. From that day on, he’s been able to vanish at will. Man, though, will never forget the cursed creature and knows that, whenever he sees a chameleon, bad news is just around the corner.

  The clever little lizard

  Told to me in Ndebele by Emma Matshazi in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe

  Once upon a time there lived a group of the greatest lizards ever known. These creatures were not just monstrous, but magnificent, with great, green slimy bodies, long purple fingers, forked pink tongues and tails so strong they could flick a cow into the water. If threatened, the creatures would gather together like a great army, shooting up terrifying folds of red skin around their necks, flicking their tongues and hissing like dragons. They were called the Inxou.

  The Inxou lived on the banks of a large river. By day, they would lie on rocks, sunning their scaly bodies, while their babies splashed and played in the water. At night, they would curl up in a forest, close their yellow eyes and emit loud steamy snores as they slept. No matter how well they slept, though, they would always be on the alert for their deadly enemy, Man.

  Man was terrified of the dragon-like Inxou. But he was also entranced by it, because it had magical healing powers that no other creature possessed. If a man got sick, eating the liver of an Inxou would make him better. If a woman’s baby died, chewing the liver of an Inxou would take away her grief. Every witch doctor in the country wanted the liver of an Inxou for his medicine box. Very few were brave enough to catch one.

  In a village near the river where the Inxou swam lived a man and his wife. One day the wife fell very ill, but no matter how hard the witch doctor threw his bones, summoned the spirits and stirred up a potion of herbs, she wouldn’t get better. ‘There is only one cure,’ the witch doctor eventually pronounced. ‘You must mix these herbs with the liver of an Inxou. Do that and your wife will get well.’

  The man was very scared. He had heard terrible tales of the terrifying Inxou. But he loved his wife and wanted to save her. So that night he lay in bed and thought of a plan.

  The next morning he went to visit a brave warrior who long ago had killed a ferocious Inxou himself. ‘Please my friend may I borrow your Inxou skin?’ he begged. ‘If I look like an Inxou, and live with the Inxou, I might have a chance of catching an Inxou.’ The warrior agreed and together they covered the man with the Inxou skin, tying the lizard’s front legs to the man’s hands, and its back legs to his feet. How ferocious he looked on all fours! ‘Those dragons will never know it’s a man!’ the warrior laughed.

  The next day, the man set off on his mission, disguised as a lizard, and carrying a bag of beans, which he knew the Inxou loved. At last he reached the river, and in a lizardy voice cried out: ‘My friends, my friends! I have a treat, I have a treat! Come and join me for a feast!’

  The lizards looked at him suspiciously, as they didn’t recognise this strange Inxou. But he had the scales of an Inxou, and the legs of an Inxou. And he had their favourite treat of beans. So they welcomed him and were soon feasting on their new friend’s gift.

  One day, as the man was lying on a rock watching the grandmother, a baby Inxou began to stare at him suspiciously. As the baby looked at the man, it began to sing a song. ‘What type of animal are you?’ it sang, ‘What kind of animal are you? With hands and head like a man, but the body of an Inxou?’

  The man started to shake, worried the other lizards might hear, but no one took any notice but the baby’s parents who told it to be quiet.

  But the baby took no notice and this time started to sing more loudly: ‘What type of animal are you? What type of animal are you? With hands and head like a man, but the body of an Inxou?’

  Before the parents could look at him more closely, the man scuttled off into the forest on all fours. ‘Oh no!’ he thought as he waddled away. ‘My disguise has been discovered. I am going to have to catch the grandmother tonight.’

  At dusk, while the other lizards swam in the cooling river, the man laid his trap: a trail of beans from behind the grandmother’s rock into the forest. Then, he hid behind a tree with his spear. Soon he saw the granny’s nose sniffing the air. ‘Mmmm, Mmmm, I smell a treat,’ she hissed. ‘I might go into the forest for something to eat.’ And, f
licking her pink tongue, she started to follow the bean trail into the forest.

  It was a silly thing for the granny lizard to do. As she walked towards the tree, her tongue flicking up the beans, the man took his spear and thrust it into her. Then, before the others missed her, he picked her up and carried her to his home.

  The village celebrated the capture of the terrifying Inxou with a great feast and celebration. And, as the witch doctor had promised, a mixture of herbs and the Inxou liver, saved the life of the man’s wife.

  But it was the last time Man caught an Inxou. From that day on, the lizards listen to their babies when they call out warnings. Should you see one on a rock, listen quietly to what they say. ‘Quick, quick! Go and hide! There is a man in disguise, we can see with our eyes!’ you will hear them singing in warning.

  As the Inxou proved, young creatures are often the best guards. For even if someone is in a good disguise, youngsters often spot it with their fresh, young eyes.

  The charming Mr Hare

  Told to me in Shona by seven-year-old Grighton Hove, at Sebakwe Primary School, in Zimbabwe, who was told the story by his granny

  Once upon a time, when the animals roamed the earth freely, Hare and Baboon were good friends. They loved eating maize (particularly if they had pinched it from someone else’s crop), drinking beer (brewed by their loving wives) and playing practical tricks. More than anything else, though, the pair loved pretty girls.

  One day when they were walking to the river to get a drink, Hare and Baboon spotted two girls getting water. Being experts at women-watching, they quickly hopped behind a rock to spy. ‘Look at those big brown eyes,’ whistled Hare quietly as he ogled the pretty creatures. ‘And those glistening white teeth!’ exclaimed Baboon, giving his own a quick polish with his finger. ‘Now they are what I call beauties! Come on Hare!’