Ikom folk stories from Southern Nigeria

by Elphinstone Dayrell

XXXI.—Chief Kekong’s Daughter ’Ndere who Married a Python.

Chief Kekong was a very rich Okuni chief. He lived many years ago at the time when the Okuni people never eat the cat-fish, as they thought it was a part of the water ju-ju, having such a smooth skin.

Chief Kekong had a wife named Nyam, who was a fine woman, and they had a daughter called ’Ndere, who was much sought after by the Okuni chiefs and other rich men in marriage, partly on account of her beauty, and partly for her father’s wealth. ’Ndere was very vain of her personal appearance, and although her parents frequently tried to get her to marry, she always refused.

About this time a python lived at Okuni. He was a very fine fellow, and wanted to marry ’Ndere so that he might inherit her father’s property, but having no hands and feet he knew he would stand no chance of winning a girl who had refused so many offers. He therefore consulted another python, who advised him to go into a far country and try to borrow from different men a head, feet and hands, white teeth, and a fine face and nose, but that he should keep his own eyes. The friendly python told him that if he did this and returned to Okuni and asked ’Ndere to marry him, it was very likely that she would do so.

The next day the python set off to a distant country, where he was unknown, and went to a chief called Kaku. The python said that, although he was a stranger, he hoped the chief would help him as far as he could. Then Chief Kaku asked the python what he wanted and how he could assist him. So the python said, “I want to marry ’Ndere, the daughter of Chief Kekong of Okuni, but, as I have no hands or feet, she will not look at me. I therefore want you to lend me a face, teeth, arms and legs, so that I would appear to her as a stranger, and she would then marry me.”

Now the python was not aware that Chief Kaku had already asked ’Ndere to marry him, and that she had refused to do so, as if the python had known this he would have gone to somebody else. The python promised the chief that if he would lend him the different parts of the body which he required he would return them all to him after he had married ’Ndere. Chief Kaku thought the matter over, and as he was very anxious to obtain ’Ndere as a wife for himself, he decided to do as the python asked, having determined that when the python returned the borrowed limbs he would have him killed and take ’Ndere as his wife, whether she liked it or not. The more Chief Kaku thought of the plan, the easier it seemed; so he sent for all his young men, and took a head from one, arms from another, legs from a third, and fine white teeth from a fourth, and so on, until at last the python was complete.

Chief Kaku gave the python one young boy to accompany him back to Okuni, and the following day the python set off on his journey, wearing all his borrowed limbs. When he arrived at Okuni he looked nicer than any of the other Okuni young men; his long neck and small eyes, white teeth and the fine colour of his body appealed to ’Ndere when she saw him, and she at once took a great fancy to him.

Very soon after his arrival the python asked Chief Kekong to allow him to marry his daughter ’Ndere, and when the chief asked him who he was and where he came from, the python replied, “I am the son of Chief Kaku, who lives over there,” pointing to where the sun rose at the back of the house. Then Chief Kekong, who knew Chief Kaku, as he had tried to marry ’Ndere but failed, called for some palm wine, which was brought and given to the python. Chief Kekong said he would think over what the python had said, but warned him that ’Ndere had already refused his father. He said, however, that if his daughter agreed to marry him, he would allow her to do so. The python was then given food to eat and a room to sleep in during the night.

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep, Chief Kekong woke his wife up and called ’Ndere to come. He then told her that the python wanted to marry her, and asked ’Ndere what her wishes were. Although ’Ndere intended to marry the python, she did not wish her parents to know what her thoughts were, as she was an obstinate and disobedient girl. ’Ndere then said to her mother, “Tell me what you think I should do.” ’Nyam replied, “I do not wish you to marry this man, and would prefer that you should marry an Okuni man, because if anything happened to you we should be near, and in the case of sickness we would try to help you, whereas if you marry this stranger you will go far away, and we shall not be able to do anything for you.” ’Ndere said, “Yes, my mother, I hear what you say. Now what does my father say?” Chief Kekong replied, “If you love this young man, whom you have never before seen, and go away with him as his wife, you may be sold as a slave, as you are such a fine girl, or you might possibly be killed; and although I am Chief of Okuni, I have no power in Chief Kaku’s town, and should not be able to help you. As you are my only child, I do not want you to marry this stranger, but I want you to remain at Okuni with me.”

’Ndere then answered her parents as follows:—“I have always refused, up to the present, to marry all the men you have asked me to marry, but I am going to marry this man. You must therefore hand me to Kaku’s son as his wife, and I will go off with him to his country. If you refuse to do this, I will go outside into the bush and hang myself.”

Her parents tried their best to persuade ’Ndere to change her mind, but she was obstinate, and continued to threaten to hang herself if they refused to do what she wanted; they therefore left her until the next morning.

When the morning came, the python went to Chief Kekong and asked him for his decision with regard to his daughter. The chief called ’Ndere to him and asked her what her wishes were on the subject. ’Ndere said, “I am willing to marry this young man, and will go with him to his country.”

The python then sent the small boy who had come with him to Chief Kaku, asking him to send the dowry, and after a few days the boy returned, bringing with him rods, cloth, camwood, and palm-oil. The chief then handed his daughter to the python, and after she had been rubbed all over with camwood and oil she was taken to the python’s room. She was then circumcised and kept in a room for three days; after that she was able to walk, so ’Ndere told the python that she was then willing to go with him to his country, and the following morning they set off from the town, walking very slowly.

It was not until after they had walked for two days that they reached Chief Kaku’s town, and when he saw them he was so glad that he at once had a goat killed in front of ’Ndere and sprinkled the blood over her feet. The chief then had a plentiful supply of food brought, which was given to the python and his wife, and a room was appointed for their use.

When the evening came, all the men and women were called together to dance and sing, the chief giving them plenty of palm wine to drink and doing everything he could think of to show ’Ndere that the python was his son. As soon as the play had commenced, Chief Kaku told the python to come to his house, so that ’Ndere was left in the house which had been set apart for the use of her husband and herself. The chief then asked the python to return all the different limbs and other parts of the body which he had borrowed from the different young men of the town as he had promised to do. But the python begged to be allowed until midnight before he returned the things he had borrowed, saying, “My wife and I have only just arrived, and it would be a shameful thing if I have to join her crawling on my belly.” The chief agreed to allow the python until midnight, and the python then went off to join his wife in their house.

When midnight came the python got up and went to the chief’s house and returned the different portions of the young men’s bodies which he had borrowed. He then returned to ’Ndere in his natural form of a python, but when she saw him she denied that he was her husband. During the remainder of the night the python tried to convince ’Ndere that he was the man she had married, but she sat up the whole night and refused to have anything to do with him.

As soon as it was light ’Ndere went with the python to the chief’s house, and asked him whether the python was his son whom she had married. The chief answered her that the python was his son, and that she was his wife. He also said that his son was going to return to Okuni the following day, and that she would have to accompany her husband. ’Ndere was not at all pleased to see her husband going about on his stomach, and refused to sit near him all the day. When night came she went into a separate house and would not let the python in.

That night Chief Kaka gave orders to four of his young men to arm themselves with sharp matchets, and to lie in wait on the road to Okuni. He told them to kill the python and to bring ’Ndere back to him. This the young men promised to do, and set off before it was light, telling no one where they were going.

After the python and his wife had had their early morning food, they started off for Okuni, but when they arrived at the first water outside the town where the road branched off to the farm, the python, remembering that ’Ndere had refused to marry Chief Kaku, thought it very probable that the chief would cause him to be waylaid and his wife taken away from him. He therefore determined to follow the farm road, which, although much longer, he thought would probably be safer; he thus missed the four men who were lying in wait for him.

Towards the evening the four young men returned to the town and reported to the chief that ’Ndere and her husband had not passed along the road which they were guarding. Chief Kaku then guessed that they must have taken the farm road, and had probably arrived safely at Okuni. Although the python had escaped the trap which the chief had set for him, he had no intention of letting him go, and now that he had seen ’Ndere again he was more determined than ever to possess her for himself, and at once began to plan how he should kill the python and induce ’Ndere to marry him. As he could not send his young men to Okuni to kill the python and take ’Ndere away by force, as that would mean war between the two countries, for which he was not prepared, seeing that the Okuni people were very powerful, he determined to wait and lay another trap for the python. The chief knew that ’Ndere was very dissatisfied at having a snake as a husband, and would probably be glad to marry him, although he was rather old, rather than continue to live with the python, providing the python could be got rid of. He therefore decided to wait until the dry season came round, when the python would go to his farm, and might be killed without causing any trouble. But the first thing he had to do was to get ’Ndere to agree to come to him, so he sent off two of his young men to watch the python’s house, and told them to pretend they came from a distant country. He sent messages by these men to ’Ndere, telling her to do everything her husband told her to do, and that when the time arrived for making the new farms he would have the python killed, and she could then come and marry him.

The young men went to Okuni as they were ordered, and, after watching for some time, at last met ’Ndere alone at the spring, where she was getting water, and gave her the messages from the chief. ’Ndere, who hated the python, agreed to help, and said she would be glad to marry anyone who would get rid of the python; so the young men returned and told the chief what she had said.

When the time arrived for making the farms, the python took all his people out into the bush, but as they had no matchets or arms to use them with, all they could do was to roll themselves about in the grass and then burn it. Every morning when the python and the rest of his people went to the farm, ’Ndere followed later, bringing the foo-foo and soup in calabashes. The python would not allow her to go so far as the farm, as he told her she was such a fine girl that if the other pythons saw her they would certainly be so envious of him that they might kill him in order to get her for themselves. He therefore showed her a place where she was to bring the food; here he had made a string of snail shells hung on sticks, and told ’Ndere to rattle them when she brought his food, and that he would come to her. The first day the pythons went to work on the farm ’Ndere brought the food and rattled the snail shells as she had been directed to do, and very soon afterwards the python came and took the calabashes away to the place where they were working, telling ’Ndere to wait until he had finished eating. When he had eaten all the food he returned to the place where he had left his wife, and found her waiting for him. He then said, “My good woman, you have done well, you hear my voice properly,” and having given her the empty calabashes, ’Ndere returned to her home.

This was done for two days, and on the third day ’Ndere said she would like to go to the farm to see the people working, but the python would not let her, so she sent a word to Chief Kaku that the python went to the farm every day. The chief then sent four of his young men, who hid themselves at the place where ’Ndere brought the food for her husband. When she had shaken the string of snail shells, the python soon appeared, and the men who were ready sprang up, whereupon ’Ndere ran away, in order to deceive her husband. The four men then attacked the python with sticks, and soon killed him; they then cut off his head and his tail, and carried them back to Chief Kaku, leaving the food on the ground where ’Ndere had placed it. The other pythons who were working on the farm, missing their companion very soon, went to see what had become of him, and found his dead body with the head and tail missing, near the food. As they could not discover who had killed the python, they met together and decided that for the future they would not make any more farms or live in the towns, as the men were jealous of them on account of the python having married ’Ndere. They therefore now live in the bush and hide themselves.

When ’Ndere appeared before Chief Kaku, he received her quite calmly, without any feasting or dancing, as he did not wish his people to suspect that he had murdered her husband. But after a few days had passed, Chief Kaku sent privately to Chief Kekong and told him that he had caused the python to be killed, and intended to marry ’Ndere. He also sent a large amount of dowry to the chief. Now in Chief Kaku’s country there was a stream full of cat-fish (Akpambi), but no one ever caught them, and when the people went to the stream to get water the fish would look at them without any fear. ’Ndere, hearing of this, went to the stream with a basket, and the fish seeing her, came close, so she began to sing softly to them, when more fish came. Then ’Ndere caught two of the fish with her basket, and took them home and cooked them for food, but none of the girls in the house would eat them, as they all said that if they did so they would die. ’Ndere, however, was not afraid, and eat the fish, which she found to be good food, and the soup was very sweet. She also took some to Chief Kaku, and said, “If you love me, you will eat my fish; but if you refuse, then I shall know that you do not care for me, and I shall not marry you, but will return at once to my father at Okuni.” But the chief said, “No one ever eats that fish, as it has a smooth skin and is part of the water ju-ju. If anyone eats that fish, he will surely die.” Then ’Ndere said, “Yes, my parents also will not eat this fish, but there is always one man who starts back first from the farm, and then the other people follow. I have eaten the fish and found it good, and have not died. If you eat it with me you will not die, and if we live to see the next sunrise to-morrow, all the people will follow our example and will eat the fish.” The chief then agreed, and said, “I will eat the fish with you, and if we die we shall be treated as husband and wife in the spirit.” They then sat down together and eat the cat-fish.

When the chief had finished his share he prepared himself for death, and having called his people together, told them what should be done in case he should die. ’Ndere and the chief then retired for the night, and the chief slept quietly, without any trouble, until the morning. When he woke up and found that he was quite well, he sent ’Ndere out again with her basket to catch more of the fish, as the soup was so sweet. So ’Ndere went down to the stream once more and caught a lot of fish, which she brought back to the house and cooked as before. Then the chief called his friends together, and told them about the cat-fish and what good food it was. When the people heard that the chief had eaten the cat-fish and had not died, they thought they would like to try some for themselves, so they all had some of the fish which ’Ndere had cooked. When they had eaten it they found it so good that when they returned home they at once sent their wives out with baskets to catch some of the fish. And thus it became the custom for the women to go out in the dry season with their fishing-baskets to catch the cat-fish. This custom was started by ’Ndere.

Told by Ennenni, an Okuni woman.—[E.D., 5.1.11.]

XXXII.—How Agbor Adam broke the Hunting Law of Okuni, and How
He was Punished.

In the dry season, many years ago, Chief Akum Alobi of Okuni ordered all his people to go out hunting. They were to surround a certain portion of the forest and set fire to the bush, then, as the animals came out, they were killed. At the same time, the women were sent to bale out the pools in the streams and to catch the fish.

The hunting law was that, during the hunting time, the men might eat the meat of the animals they killed, but they were not allowed to eat any fish, and the women might eat fish only, and not eat any meat from animals killed hunting.

While the hunting was going on, a man called Agbor Adam went to his wife, Iza Kakem, and asked her to give him some fish to eat, as he was tired of nothing but meat. The woman refused to do so, saying that the hunting law was so strong that, if they broke it, they would certainly be killed. But Agbor Adam, seeing that there was no one within sight, told his wife that it would be quite safe, as no one would know, and that, if she gave him some of her fish, he would give her one of the animals he had killed. The woman then gave her husband a fish, and he told her to go to the place where he kept the animals he had killed and take whichever she fancied. So Iza Kakem, having looked over all the animals, selected a monkey, and took it to the bush shelter where she was sleeping, and cooked and eat it. Her husband also eat the fish.

Now, all that had passed between these two people had been observed by a bird called Aictor, who was sitting in a tree and could see everything that happened.

Aictor was a native of the Ingor country, and could not speak the Okuni language, and, at that time, the Okuni people could not understand Ingor, as they were not on friendly terms with them, so that, when the bird sang in the Ingor language, no one could understand what he said.

After Agbor Adam had eaten the fish, he returned to the hunting shelter, where the men were all sitting down, not noticing that the bird had been following him all the time.

Aictor then perched himself on the chief’s shoulder, and called out in the Ingor language, “Agbor Adam, Agbor Adam, you have broken the law made by Chief Akum Alobi between hunting-men and fishing-women, and you know that whoever breaks this law will be killed.”

Aictor shouted so loud that the men, who had never heard a bird talking in their hunting camp before, began to ask among themselves what he was saying, but as they did not understand Ingor, they could not tell one another. They could only hear Agbor Adam’s name being called out. They therefore went to the chief and asked him to tell them what the bird was saying, but even the chief himself was unable to explain, and told the men not to trouble about what the bird said, but to continue with their hunting, and that when they returned to the town he would call upon the lot caster for an explanation.

The men then went out hunting again, but all day long Aictor followed them, calling out Agbor Adam’s name, and saying he had broken the law.

When the hunters returned to the camp in the evening, they cut up the animals which had been killed during the day, and placed the meat in the smoke of the fires to dry. The skins were pegged out on the ground, and covered with wood ashes.

Later in the evening, the chief called Agbor Adam to him, and asked him if he could explain what the bird had been saying, but he could not do so, and said he would like the lot caster to be consulted when they returned to Okuni. The chief agreed, and said that they would all go back in three days’ time.

Early the next morning, Aictor perched himself on the topmost branch of the highest tree in the hunting camp, and started to call Agbor Adam’s name as loudly as he could. This so frightened Agbor Adam that, while the other men were hunting, he withdrew himself quietly from the party, and, having found his wife, told her that the whole of the previous day the bird had called his name and had started to call him again that morning. Agbor also said he was so frightened that he had come to ask her to run home with him, and he would then consult the lot caster as to what should be done before the chief arrived, as he felt certain the bird must have seen what they had done and would tell everybody.

His wife then began to pack up her smoked fish, but, before she had finished Aictor came and sat on a tree near to where they were standing, and called out “Agbor Adam! Agbor Adam! Yesterday I caught you breaking the chief’s hunting law by eating fish, and now I find you running away from the hunting party.”

Although Agbor Adam could not understand what the bird said, he suspected something of the truth, so, having fitted an arrow to his bow, he aimed at the bird, thinking that if he could only kill him the trouble would be finished, but Aictor flew away.

When Iza Kakem had packed the fish into a load for carrying, her husband helped her to place the load on her head, and they started off with the woman in front, Agbor Adam following close behind.

They walked on for some distance, until they arrived at a stream called “Keruba Ketor” (“deep hole, near the town,” a place where women wash their bodies) and then Agbor suggested that they should rest for a while and wash. The woman placed her load in the forked branches of a tree near the stream, and, stepping into the pool, commenced to drink out of her hands. She had not finished drinking when they heard the bird calling out, “Agbor Adam! Agbor Adam! You are running away, but you will be found out.” When Agbor heard the now familiar voice of the bird, he looked round everywhere, but, as he could not see Aictor, he was frightened, and told his wife to pick up her load at once. Then they waded across the stream and began to run. They continued to run until they reached the second water, called “Ogboga Kedegha” (“the water with deep places”). Here the woman said she was going to wash, as she was so hot and tired. Aigbor also said he would wash, so they took off their cloths and stepped into the water, but they had only just started to wash themselves when the bird called out again, “Agbor Adam! Agbor Adam! Now you are half-way home, and, if you do not kill me, you will be found out.”

Both Agbor and his wife were now thoroughly frightened, and, jumping out of the water, snatched up their cloths, and ran naked along the path until they reached the shade of a large tree, where they stopped and tied their cloths on.

Then the woman began to abuse her husband, saying, “You have been the cause of all this running and trouble,” but Agbor told her that when he eat the fish and broke the hunting law he never thought he would be found out.

They then started off again, and walked as far as the third water, called “Ofat elikatt,” (“the slippery water”; so called because the stream runs so fast over the stepping-stones that it causes a person’s foot to slip).

Having rested for a little while, they started off again, but had only gone a few steps when the bird once more attracted their attention by calling Agbor’s name. This time Aictor was saying, “Turn round and look at the little stream as it will be for the last time.” As they did not understand what the bird said, they started off to run again, and did not stop until they reached the small stream quite close to the town, which is called “Ezi Ifom” (“the water where the cows drink”).[11]

Here at last they managed to wash without any interruption from the bird, and when they were ready they walked on into the town, which they found almost deserted, as all the men and women were absent hunting and fishing.

When they arrived at their house, however, they found that Aictor had got there before them, for they saw him sitting on the top of a palm-tree, and when they came near they could hear him calling out, “Agbor Adam! Agbor Adam! Here shall I stay in the town until Chief Alobi and the hunters return, when I will tell them that you have broken their hunting law and you will be killed.”

Agbor and his wife then ran into their house and shut the door carefully behind them. Agbor told his wife that when night came he would go and get a supply of food, but that she was not to let anyone in and not to answer anybody who called. He also said that when he got food he would return, and that if there was no one about outside trying to catch him, he would knock at the door and she could then let him in.

During the next two nights, Agbor went out as soon as it was dark and got as much food as he could into the house and then fastened himself securely in.

When the chief returned to the town with his hunters, he sent some men to call Agbor, but although they knocked at his door for a long time and called both Agbor and his wife by name, they received no reply.

When the morning came, the chief sent for the animals to come in, and, as the elephant was the biggest and strongest, he chose him. He then told the elephant that he was to get hold of Agbor Adam, but he did not wish him to be killed, as he only wanted to find out why the bird Aictor had been calling his name and why he had left the hunting party. So the elephant went to Agbor Adam’s house and, having broken the door open, dragged him out with his trunk, and brought him before the chief.

Directly Aictor, who was sitting near the chief on a palm-tree, saw Agbor, he began to call his name, and said he had broken the hunting law.

As no one could understand the bird, the chief sent to Uman compound for a woman named Iman, who was a native of Abijon, and could, therefore, speak Ingor.

When she arrived, she told the chief and the people what the bird was saying, which was “Agbor Adam! Agbor Adam! Chief Alobi passed a law that women should not eat animals killed by the men in hunting, and that the men should not eat the fish caught by the women. But your wife eat a monkey which you had killed and you eat a fish caught by your wife, and then, when I called your name, you ran away with your wife and left the hunting party, but I followed you all the way, and although you tried to kill me, I am here to give evidence against you, as I promised.”

When Chief Alobi heard this he rose up in anger, and stamped his foot on the ground, saying, “Surely Agbor Adam shall die this day. For, first of all, he disobeyed my hunting law, and then he deserted the hunting party. Is there anyone present who does not agree?” But no one answered.

Then Chief Aboli pointed to the palm-tree on which Aictor was perched, and told Agbor Adam that he should be hanged there, but, first of all, he should climb up and down the tree six times, and when he got to the top for the seventh time he should place his head in a noose and hang himself.

When Agbor’s wife heard this, she ran and threw herself at the chief’s feet, and, beating her breasts and tearing her hair, she implored him to spare her husband, but the chief walked away from her.

Agbor then climbed up to the top of the tree and came down again. This he did six times, but when he had got to the top of the tree for the seventh time, and was just going to hang himself, Chief Ossima ’nkom of Yammi appeared, and called upon him to stop, saying, “I am the oldest and biggest chief in the town, and am going to beg for you.”

He then went to chief Alobi and said, “If a man kills another man he should be hanged, but if he breaks the hunter’s law he disobeys a chief’s order; he should be fined and not killed, and I think 260 rods would be a proper fine.”

To this Chief Aboli agreed, and thus Agbor Adam’s life was saved, so he climbed down the tree again and paid the fine.

From that time the people who disobeyed a chief were made to pay a fine in tombo, goats, or sheet, according to the order.

Told by Ennenni, an Okuni woman.—[E.D., 6.1.11.]

XXXIII.—How Essama Stole Her Father’s Goat in the Fatting-house,
and Her Brother was Punished for it.

In the olden days at Okuni, when the women were circumcised, they were kept in the fatting-house for a long time and given plenty of food to eat. There was a wealthy chief at that time living in Okuni, called Okim. He had a daughter named Essama and a son called Ode. The chief was very fond of both his children, and when Essama grew up he bought a male goat and had it cut to make it grow bigger, so that when his daughter was circumcised and kept in the fatting-house he would be able to give her the goat to eat. Both the goat and Essama grew up together, until the time arrived for the girl to be circumcised and kept in the fatting-house. Then Chief Okim told his son Ode that he was to be his sister’s attendant while she was kept in the house, and that he was to look after the goat.

Essama stayed in the fatting-house for several months, until one day several of the girls of her company came to visit her. As she had nothing to give them to eat, she at last thought of her father’s goat, which was being kept for her, but she dared not kill it while her brother Ode was in the house. She therefore sent him down to the river with a basket, and told him to fill it with water and bring it back to her. Ode did as his sister told him and took the basket down to the river, but he found that the water ran out of the basket almost as quickly as it went in; he therefore remained at the water-side some time. This gave Essama a chance to kill and cook the goat, which she ate with her company. Essama reserved a leg, some of the soup, and a yam, which she placed in a pot and hung over the fire to keep warm for Ode when he returned from the river.

It was late when Ode came back to the house, and he told his sister that he was sorry he could not fill the basket with water. He then asked her where the goat was. Essama replied that she had not seen the goat walking about anywhere since he had gone down to the river, and advised him to search everywhere for him. Ode did so, but failed to find the goat. When he came back and told his sister, she pointed to the pot and said, “There is your food,” so Ode took the pot down, but as he did so some of the soup fell over him out of the pot, as it was quite full. He then sat down and began to eat. While he was eating, his father returned from the farm, and, missing the goat, asked Ode what had become of it. When he heard that the goat could not be found, the chief made a great palaver with Ode, who began to cry. His father then said he was convinced that someone must have stolen the goat, and that all his people, including his son and daughter, would have to go through the ordeal of crossing over the river on a rope, to find out who had stolen the goat. So the next day all the people assembled, and the spider was called upon to settle the palaver, as he was the chief man who settled these trials.

The spider went across the river, spinning his web as he went, and then returned to the side where the people were standing. The spider then told each man and woman to say before they started to cross the river, “If I stole Chief Okim’s goat, let the rope break with me when I get to the middle; but if I am not a thief, let me cross over in safety.”

One after the other the people crossed over the river on the spider’s web quite safely, until at last there were only left Essama and her brother. Ode went before his sister, and when he reached the middle of the river the web broke, and he fell into the water, disappearing at once.

The chief then began to lament, saying his goat had been stolen, and now his son was drowned. He then told the people to go into the river and try to recover Ode’s body. The young men at once dived in and searched everywhere, but could not find any trace of Ode.

As his son had been drowned, the chief would not allow his daughter to cross the river, and returned home with his people very sorrowfully. Chief Okim then ordered his people to tie up a bundle in a cloth to represent his son, and all people were ordered to mourn. A deep grave was then dug, and ten men were killed to accompany the Chief’s son to the spirit-land. The bodies of the ten men were then put in the grave, and the bundle representing the dead Ode was placed on top. The grave was then filled in, whilst drums were being beaten and farewells to the chief’s son were being shouted by the people. Several goats were killed, and a big feast was held, and the chief commanded all people to mourn for one year.

When the year of mourning was over, Chief Okim decided to build a new house, so he sent his boys to the river-side to get tie-tie. While they were engaged in drawing the tie-tie from the trees, one man named Oyonga heard a voice calling out, “Who is drawing the tie-tie there?” He stopped pulling and looked round everywhere, but as he could not see anybody, he went on pulling again at the tie-tie. The voice then called out again, saying, “Tell my father to bring a white goat, a white ram, a white cock, and a white chicken to the river-side and sacrifice them to the river ju-ju, and tell him that if he does this I shall be set free.” Oyonga then asked the voice who it was speaking, and the voice replied, “I am Ode, Chief Okim’s son who was lost, as when I took the pot down some of the soup made from my father’s goat, which my sister had stolen, fell over me, so that when I tried to cross the river on the spider’s web it broke by the ordeal and I was lost in the water.”

Oyonga then ran back to the town and told the chief what he had heard. When Chief Okim heard what Oyonga had to say, he was vexed, as he did not believe him, so he ordered him to be tied up to a tree and given fifty lashes. Oyonga pleaded with the chief in vain, and he was flogged.

When Oyonga had sufficiently recovered from the flogging he had received, he begged the chief to go with him to the river where he had heard the voice; at first the chief refused to go, but after much persuasion he consented. When they got to the place Oyonga pulled at the tie-tie, and the voice at once called out, “Who is pulling there? Have you told my father to bring the white goat, ram, cock, and chicken to sacrifice to the ju-ju?”

When the chief heard his son’s voice he went back to the town and got all the animals and birds as quickly as possible, and having brought them down to the water-side, sacrificed them to the river ju-ju. When the sacrifice was completed, the chief told all his young men to go into the river with a net; in case his son should not be able to get out of the water, they could then fish him out.

Very shortly the river ju-ju threw Ode up, and he tried to swim, but one of the men in a canoe pulled him out of the water and brought him to the bank. The people then beat drums and escorted the chief and his son back to the town, singing as they went.

As soon as they arrived, the whole of the townspeople came out with presents of various articles and gave them to Ode. Chief Okim then gave a great feast, and killed many cows and goats, and there was a big play and dancing in the town. When the play was over Chief Okim asked his son what he had found out while he was with the river ju-ju, and Ode replied that the river ju-ju made him understand that it was his sister Essama who stole the goat, but, as the ordeal found the scent of the goat on him, he disappeared in the water. Then Chief Okim called out Essama’s mother and told her what her daughter had done, nearly causing him to lose his son altogether. The chief and his wife had a quarrel, which ended in his fining her 1,200 rods, which was the price of a slave, and said that the whole of her family would have to help to pay. The rods were brought to the chief, and half the amount was given to Ode. The people then decided that it was because Essama was kept so long in the fatting-house which caused her to kill the goat, and they agreed that for the future girls should only stay in the fatting-house for a few days, as they would then not be tempted to steal and bring shame upon their families.

Told by Ennenni, a dancing-woman of Okuni.—[E. Dayrell, 14.1.11.]