FOREWORD

The following sixteen Tales were narrated to me, many years ago, by two members of the Mpongwe tribe (one now dead) at the town of Libreville, Gaboon river, equatorial West Africa. Both of them were well-educated persons, a man and a woman. They chose legends that were current in their own tribe. They spoke in Mpongwe; and, in my English rendition, I have retained some of their native idioms. As far as I am aware none of these legends have ever been printed in English, excepting [Tale 5], a version of which appeared in a British magazine from a writer in Kamerun, after I had heard it at Gaboon. Also, excepting [Tale 14]. It appeared, in another form, more than fifty years ago, in Rev. Dr. J. L. Wilson’s “Western Africa.” But my narrator was not aware of that, when he told it to me.

TALE 1

Do Not Trust Your Friend

Place

Country of the Animals

Persons

Njĕgâ (Leopard) Ntori (Wild Rat) Ra-Marânge (Medicine Man) Nyare (Ox) Ngowa (Hog) Nkambi (Antelope) Leopard’s Wife; and others

NOTE

A story of the treachery of the Leopard as matched by the duplicity of the Rat.

In public mourning for the dead, it is the custom for the nearest relative or dearest friend to claim the privilege of sitting closest to the corpse, and nursing the head on his or her lap.

At a time long ago, the Animals were living in the Forest together. Most of them were at peace with each other. But Leopard was discovered to be a bad person. All the other animals refused to be friendly with him. Also, Wild Rat, a small animal, was found out to be a deceiver.

One day, Rat went to visit Leopard, who politely gave him a chair, and Rat sat down. “Mbolo!” “Ai, Mbolo!” each saluted to the other. Leopard said to his visitor, “What’s the news?” Rat replied, “Njĕgâ! news is bad. In all the villages I passed through, in coming today, your name is only ill-spoken of, people saying, ‘Njĕgâ is bad! Njĕgâ is bad!’ ”

Leopard replies, “Yes, you do not lie. People say truly that Njĕgâ is bad. But, look you, Ntori, I, Njĕgâ, am an evil one: but my badness comes from other animals. Because, when I go out to visit, there is no one who salutes me. When anyone sees me, he flees with fear. But, for what does he fear me? I have not vexed him. So, I pursue the one that fears me. I want to ask him, ‘Why do you fear me?’ But, when I pursue it, it goes on fleeing more rapidly. So, I become angry, wrath rises in my heart, and if I overtake it, I kill it on the spot. One reason why I am bad is that. If the animals would speak to me properly, and did not flee from me, then, Ntori, I would not kill them. See! you, Ntori, have I seized you?” Rat replied, “No.” Then Leopard said, “Then, Ntori, come near to this table, that we may talk well.”

Rat, because of his subtlety and caution, when he took the chair given him on his arrival, had placed it near the door.

Leopard repeated, “Come near to the table.” Rat excused himself, “Never mind; I am comfortable here; and I came here today to tell you that it is not well for a person to be without friends; and, I, Ntori, I say to you, let us be friends.” Leopard said, “Very good!”

But now, even after this compact of friendship, Rat told falsehoods about Leopard; who, not knowing this, often had conversations with him, and would confide to him all the thoughts of his heart. For example, Leopard would tell to Rat, “Tomorrow I am going to hunt Ngowa, and next day I will go to hunt Nkambi,” or whatever the animal was. And Rat, at night, would go to Hog or to Antelope or the other animal, and say, “Give me pay, and I will tell you a secret.” They would lay down to him his price. And then he would tell them, “Be careful tomorrow. I heard that Njĕgâ was coming to kill you.” The same night, Rat would secretly return to his own house, and lie down as if he had not been out.

Then, next day, when Leopard would go out hunting, the Animals were prepared and full of caution, to watch his coming. There was none of them that he could find; they were all hidden. Leopard thus often went to the forest, and came back empty-handed. There was no meat for him to eat, and he had to eat only leaves of the trees. He said to himself, “I will not sit down and look for explanation to come to me. I will myself find out the reason of this. For, I, Njĕgâ, I should eat flesh and drink blood; and here I have come down to eating the food of goats, grass and leaves.”

So, in the morning, Leopard went to the great doctor Ra-Marânge, and said, “I have come to you, I, Njĕgâ. For these five or six months I have been unable to kill an animal. But, cause me to know the reason of this.” Ra-Marânge took his looking-glass and his harp, and struck the harp, and looked at the glass. Then he laughed aloud, “Kĕ, kĕ, kĕ—”

Leopard asked, “Ra-Marânge, for what reason do you laugh?” He replied, “I laugh, because this matter is a small affair. You, Njĕgâ, so big and strong, you do not know this little thing!” Leopard acknowledged, “Yes: I have not been able to find it out.” Ra-Marânge said, “Tell me the names of your friends.” Leopard answered “I have no friends. Nkambi dislikes me, Nyare refuses me, Ngowa the same. Of all animals, none are friendly to me.” Ra-Marânge said, “Not so; think exactly; think again.” Leopard was silent and thought; and then said, “Yes, truly, I have one friend, Ntori.” The Doctor said, “But, look! If you find a friend, it is not well to tell him all the thoughts of your heart. If you tell him two or three, leave the rest. Do not tell him all. But, you, Njĕgâ, you consider that Ntori is your friend, and you show him all the thoughts of your heart. But, do you know the heart of Ntori, how it is inside? Look what he does! If you let him know that you are going next day to kill this and that, then he starts out at night, and goes to inform those animals, ‘So-and-so, said Njĕgâ; but, be you on your guard.’ Now, look! if you wish to be able to kill other animals, first kill Ntori.” Leopard was surprised, “Ngâ! (actually) Ntori lies to me?” Ra-Marânge said, “Yes.”

So, Leopard returned to his town. And he sent a child to call Rat. Rat came.

Leopard said, “Ntori! these days you have not come to see me. Where have you been?” Rat replies, “I was sick.” Leopard says, “I called you today to sit at my table to eat.” Rat excused himself, “Thanks! but the sickness is still in my body; I will not be able to eat.” And he went away.

Whenever Rat visited or spoke to Leopard, he did not enter the house, but sat on a chair by the door. Leopard daily sent for him; he came; but constantly refrained from entering the house.

Leopard says in his heart, “Ntori does not approach near to me, but sits by the door. How shall I catch him?” Thinking and thinking, he called his wife, and said, “I have found a plan by which to kill Ntori. Tomorrow, I will lie down in the street, and you cover my body with a cloth as corpses are covered. Wear an old ragged cloth, and take ashes and mark your body, as in mourning; and go you out on the road wailing, ‘Njĕgâ is dead! Njĕgâ, the friend of Ntori is dead!’ And, for Ntori, when he shall come as a friend to the mourning, put his chair by me, and say, ‘Sit there near your friend.’ When he sits on that chair, I will jump up and kill him there.” His wife replies, “Very good!”

Next morning, Leopard, lying down in the street, pretended that he was dead. His wife dressed herself in worn-out clothes, and smeared her face, and went clear on to Rat’s village, wailing “Ah! Njĕgâ is dead! Ntori’s friend is dead!” Rat asked her, “But, Njĕgâ died of what disease? Yesterday, I saw him looking well, and today comes word that he is dead!” The wife answered, “Yes: Njĕgâ died without disease; just cut off! I wonder at the matter—I came to call you; for you were his friend. So, as is your duty as a man, go there and help bury the corpse in the jungle.” Rat went, he and Leopard’s wife together. And, behold, there was Leopard stretched out as a corpse! Rat asked the wife, “What is this matter? Njĕgâ! is he really dead?” She replied, “Yes: I told you so. Here is a chair for you to sit near your friend.”

Rat, having his caution, had not sat on the chair, but stood off, as he wailed, “Ah! Njĕgâ is dead! Ah! my friend is dead!”

Rat called out, “Wife of Njĕgâ! Njĕgâ, he was a great person: but did he not tell you any sign by which it might be known, according to custom, that he was really dead?” She replied, “No, he did not tell me.” (Rat, when he thus spoke, was deceiving the woman.) Rat went on to speak, “You, Njĕgâ, when you were living and we were friends, you told me in confidence, saying, ‘When I, Njĕgâ, shall die, I will lift my arm upward, and you will know that I am really dead.’ But, let us cease the wailing and stop crying. I will try the test on Njĕgâ, whether he is dead! Lift your arm!”

Leopard lifted his arm. Rat, in his heart, laughed, “Ah! Njĕgâ is not dead!” But, he proceeded, “Njĕgâ! Njĕgâ! you said, if really dead, you would shake your body. Shake! if it is so!” Leopard shook his whole body. Rat said openly, “Ah! Njĕgâ is dead indeed! He shook his body!” The wife said, “But, as you say he is dead, here is the chair for you, as chief friend, to sit on by him.” Rat said, “Yes: wait for me; I will go off a little while, and will come.” Leopard, lying on the ground, and hearing this, knew in his heart, “Ah! Ntori wants to flee from me! I will wait no longer!” Up he jumps to seize Rat, who, being too quick for him, fled away. Leopard pursued him with leaps and jumps so rapidly that he almost caught him. Rat got to his hole in the ground just in time to rush into it. But his tail was sticking out; and Leopard, looking down the hole, seized the tail.

Rat called out, “You have not caught me, as you think! What you are holding is a rootlet of a tree.” Leopard let go of the tail. Rat switched it in after him, and jeered at Leopard, “You had hold of my tail! And you have let it go! You will not catch me again!” Leopard, in a rage, said, “You will have to show me the way by which you will emerge from this hole; for, you will never come out of it alive!”

Some narrators carry the story on, with the ending of [Tale No. 6], the story of Rat, Leopard, Frog and Crab.

Leopard’s pretence of death appears also in [Tale No. 3].

TALE 2

Leopard’s Hunting Camp

Persons

Ntori (A very large forest Rat) Njĕgâ (Leopard) And other Animals

NOTE

Besides the words for “hunger” and “famine,” the Bantu languages have a third word meaning, “longing for meat.” In this story, Leopard’s greed is matched by the artifice of Rat:—It was a practice of African natives to hide their ivory tusks in streams of water until a time convenient for selling them.

Polite natives will neither sit uninvited in the presence of their superiors, nor watch them while eating. If need be, to secure privacy, a temporary curtain will be put up, and the host will retire, leaving the guest alone. Rude or uncivilized tribes are offensive in their persistent effort to see a white foreigner’s mode of eating.

One of the tricks of native sorcerers is to jump into a fire.

It was a time of ngwamba (meat-hunger) among the Animals in Njambi’s Kingdom.

Leopard, being the eldest in his tribe, said to Rat, “Ntori! child! this is a hard time for meat. I think we better go to the forest, and make a olako (camp) for hunting.” Rat replied “Good! come on!”

So they began to arrange for the journey. The preparation of food, nets, baskets, and so forth, occupied several days. When all was ready, they started. Having come to a proper place in the forest, they selected a site where they would build up their booths. Leopard was to have his own separate camp with his wives and his children and his people; and Rat his, with his wives and his children, and his people.

So they began to make two camps. Leopard said, “Ntori! child! I have mine here. You go there yonder.” So they built their booths for sleeping-places; and rested another day; and then built their arala (drying frames) over their fire-places for smoke-drying the meat that they hoped to obtain. Next day, they prepared their guns, and started out on the hunt. On that very first day, they met game, and, ku! (bang) went their guns, killing an Elephant, and, ku! a wild Ox. Then Leopard said, “Ntori! child! we are successful! Let us begin the work of cutting up!”

After all the carcasses had been cut up, came the time to divide the meat between the two companies. So, Leopard said, “As I am your Uncle, I precede; I will choose first, and will give you the remainder.” So Leopard chose, taking out all the best pieces. When Rat saw that most of the meat was going to Leopard’s side, he thought it time to begin to get his share. But when Rat laid hold of a nice piece, Leopard would say, “No! child! do not take the best: that belongs to your Uncle”— and Leopard would claim the piece, and hand it over to his women. So it went on in the same way; to every nice piece that Rat chose, Leopard objected that it belonged to him. After Leopard had taken all he wanted, there were left only the bowels and the heads and legs for Rat.

Then they each went to their own camping-place, to spread the meat on their arala, and to cook their dinner. But, all the while that Rat was spreading bones and bowels on his orala, he was vexed; for, there was very little meat on those bones; while Leopard’s people’s arala were full of meat, and savory portions were simmering on their fires tied in bundles (agĕwu) of plantain leaves. At the noon meal, Leopard sat down with his family, and Rat with his. But Rat had only poor food; while Leopard and his people were rejoicing with rich meat.

The second day was very much the same as the first. It was Rat who did most of the hunting. With him it was, ku! (bang!), and some beast was down; and, ku! and some other beast was down. Whenever Rat fired, Leopard would shout out, “Ntori! child! what have you got?” And it was Rat who would shout in reply, “Nyare” (ox), or “Njâku” (elephant), or “Nkambi!” (antelope), or whatever the game might be. And it was Leopard who offensively patronized him, saying, “That is a good boy, Tata! (Little Father); bring it here to your Uncle.” Then Rat and all the servants would carry the carcass to Leopard. So that day, the cutting and dividing was just like the first day; Leopard claiming and taking the best, and leaving the skeleton and scraggy pieces and the bowels for Rat.

After that second day’s hunt, Rat was tired of this way of dividing, in which he got only the worthless pieces. So he decided to get back some of Leopard’s meat by artifice, for his own table, even if he had to take it from Leopard’s orala itself. He began to devise what he should do. As he was out walking, he came to a brook in which were sunken logs of hard heavy wood. They had lain there a long time, and were black with outside decay. With his machete in hand, he dived; and remaining under the water, he scraped the logs till he had removed the dark outside, and exposed the white inner wood. He kept on at the job scraping and scraping until the logs appeared white like ivory. Then he went back to Leopard’s camp, and, with pretence of excitement, exclaimed, “Mwe Njĕgâ! I think we will be going to be rich. You don’t know what I’ve found! Such a big ivory-tusk hidden in the water! I think we better leave off hunting meat, and go to get this fine ivory.” Leopard replied, “Good! come on!”

The next day, they first arranged their fires so that the smoke-drying of their meat might continue during their absence; and then started for the ivory. They all prepared themselves, for diving, by taking off their good clothing, and wearing only a small loin-cloth. Their entire companies went, men, women, and children, leaving not a single person in the camps.

Leopard says, “You, Ntori, go first, as you know where the place is.” Rat says, “Good! come on!” And they went on their way.

Arrived at the brook, Rat says, “You all come on, and dive.” Leopard asks, “My son! is it still there?” Rat, pointing, answers, “Yes! my ivory is there.” Leopard, looking down in the water says, “I see no ivory!” Rat, still pointing, replies, “There! Those white things! Don’t you see them?” Leopard says, “I never saw ivory look like logs.” Rat answered, “No? But this is a new kind. I assure you they are ivory! I have been down there, and I cleaned the mud off of them.” Leopard was satisfied, and said, “Good! come on!” And they all dived. They laid hold of the supposed ivory, and pulled, and pushed, and lifted, and worked. But it was stuck fast, and they could not move it.

While they were thus working, Rat suddenly cried out, “Njĕgâ! O! I forgot something! I must go quickly back to the olako. I will not be gone long. I shall return soon.”

Rat came out of the brook; ran to the camp; took of his own bundles of bones and scraggy pieces, and put them on Leopard’s drying-frames, and took the same number of bundles of good meat from Leopard’s frames. Then he ran back to the brook, to continue the work at the so-called ivory.

Soon after that, Rat says, “Mwe Njĕgâ! it is time to return to the olako; we have worked long; I am hungry.” Leopard says, “Good! come on!” So they returned to the camp to eat.

Rat says, “Njĕgâ! as I am so hungry, I will not wait with you, but will go to my own olako at once. And I will put up a curtain between us, as it is a shame for one to eat in the presence of his elder.”

So Rat put up a curtain; and opened a bundle of nice meat; and he and his people began to eat.

When Leopard took down one of his bundles, and opened it to share with his women, he was amazed, and said, “See! only bones and mean pieces! Ah! what is this matter!” And he called out to the other camp, “Ntori! Tata!” Rat responds, “Eh! Mwe Njĕgâ?” Leopard inquires, “What kind of meat are you eating?” Rat answers, “My own, from my own bundles. But what kind have you, Mwe Njĕgâ?” Leopard says, “My women prepared meat that was nice; but now I have only bones. I am surprised at that.”

The next, the fourth day, Rat said to Leopard, “I think we better change from the hard work on the ivory. Let us go hunting today; and tomorrow we will resume the ivory.” Leopard assented “Good! come on!” And they started out to hunt. They were successful again as on the previous days. At the time of the division of the meat, Rat showed no displeasure at Leopard’s taking the best pieces; as he had now his own artifice to get them back. And the meats of the day were placed on their owners’ respective drying-frames. By this day’s doings, many of Leopard’s baskets were full, ready to be taken to town, while most of Rat’s were still empty.

On the fifth day, they went to the brook again, to their fruitless work of pulling at the so-called ivory. The same things happened as before; Rat remembers that he has forgotten something; has to go in haste to the camp; rapidly changes the bundles on his and Leopard’s frames; returns to the brook; they all come back to the camp to eat; and there were repeated Leopard’s surprise, and his questions to Rat about the kinds of meat they were eating. Thus they continued; on alternate days hunting, and working at the ivory that was stuck immovably fast in the mud; and Rat stealing; and Leopard complaining.

Finally, Leopard became tired of his losses; and, one day, without letting anyone know what he intended doing, he said, “I will take a little walk.” Rat says, “You go alone? May I accompany you?” Leopard said, “No! I go alone; I won’t be long away; and I do not go far.”

So Leopard went to the wizard Ra-Marânge, whom as soon as he saw him, exclaimed, “What are you come for? Are you in trouble?” Leopard told him the matter of the losses of the meat. Then Ra-Marânge jumped into his fire, and emerged powerful and wise. And he said, “I will make for you something that will find out for you who it is that takes your meat.”

So Ra-Marânge made a little image of a man, and conferred on it wisdom and power, and gave it to Leopard, who took it to his camp, and hid it in his hut.

The next day they all resumed the work at the brook, with the ivory. There was the same diving, the same fruitless pulling, Rat’s same need of going back to the camp, and his same attempts at stealing. While he was doing this, he sees something like a little man standing near him. Rat puts out his hand to take from Leopard’s bundles as usual, and the image catches him by the wrist of that hand. Rat indignantly says, “You! this little fool! leave me! What do you catch me for?” But the image was silent; nor did it let go its hold. So Rat struck at it with his other hand. And the image caught that hand with its other hand. Then Rat was angry and kicked with one foot at a leg of the image. And that foot was retained by that leg of the image. Rat kicked with his remaining foot; it also was retained by the image’s other leg. He was thus held in the power of the image.

Rat, in desperation, said, “Let me go!” The image spoke, and simply said, “No!” Rat felt he was in a bad situation; but he put on a bold face. He knew that, by his long delay, the others must have given up the work at the brook, and would by now be returning to the camp; and, in a little while, he would be discovered. To forestall that discovery, he shouted out, “Mwe Nĕjgâ, come quickly! I’ve found the person who changes your bundles!” Leopard, on the path, heard his voice, and replied, “My child, is that so? Hold him fast!” Rat still daringly said, “Come quickly! He wants to get away from my grasp!” Leopard replied, “Hold fast! I am coming!” They all came hastily, both of Rat’s people, and of Leopard’s people; and there they saw Rat held fast by the hands and legs of the image. Leopard asked, “Where is he?” Rat, daring to the last, said, “This little man here that I am holding.” Leopard said, “Now that I am here, let go of him, for I will take charge of him.” Rat struggled, but in vain. Leopard several times repeated his direction to Rat, “Let go of him!” But Rat was utterly unable to withdraw his limbs from the power of the image. And he gave up the effort, in shame. Then Leopard had to help release Rat; the conferred power of the image being subservient to him. He did not strike Rat, he being his relative. But rebuked him, “Ah! Ntori! now I know it was you who made all the trouble about my meat!” And he took back all his fine bundles, and returned Rat his poor bundles. Rat went to his own camp ashamed, but still angry at the unjust division of the meat.

As Leopard’s baskets were now full, he announced that they should prepare to break camp, and return to town. Rat’s women murmured, “Ah! all going away, and our baskets almost empty!” Rat comforted them, “Yes; it is so; but, we will find a way to fill them!”

So, the next day, while the others were gone to get leaves and vines with which to tie up their baskets, Rat took his empty ones to the brook and filled them with stones, and tied them up with leaves, as if they contained meat.

On the following day, as they were about to start on their journey, Rat said to Leopard, “As you are the elder, go you first, and I will follow.” Leopard said, “Good! come on!” And they went on the path, Rat keeping close behind Leopard’s people. (Baskets being carried tied on the back with a strap over the forehead, the bearer leans heavily forward, and cannot see what is happening behind.) Rat had prepared a hook with a handle. From time to time, as they came to narrow places in the path where thorny branches met, he would strike the hook into some basket before him, and in pretence, would say, “Wait! a thorn on this branch has caught your basket! Let me unfasten it.” While the carrier would stand still for Rat to release the branch, the latter seized the chance to take pieces of meat from the basket, and substitute stones from his own baskets. The way was long; and, at every obstructed place, Rat kept on at his pretence of helping to free some basket of Leopard’s from the thorns that caught it, and changed pieces of good meat for his stones.

Before they reached Leopard’s town, darkness began to fall, and both companies were very tired, especially that of Leopard; for, their baskets seemed to have grown heavier. Rat said, “Njĕgâ! All this hard day’s walk! Hide our baskets, yours in one place, and mine in another, and let us go on to town and sleep; and we will send back our women for the baskets in the morning.” Leopard assented, “Good! come on!” So they left their baskets, and all went to town.

The next morning, Rat sent his people very, very early. Leopard sent his later, at the usual time of morning business. When his people were going they met Rat’s people coming back with their loads, and exclaimed, “You are loaded already!”

When Leopard’s people brought their baskets to the town, and opened them, they were amazed to find that they had little else than stones and bones. Leopard was very angry; and, going to Rat, he began to scold, “You have taken away my meat!” “No I have my own. Look! these baskets, you know them, they are mine! Perhaps some one stole your meat in the night and put the stones in place. But, as you are in such a trouble, I will share with you of mine.” So he called to his women, “Give Njĕgâ a few pieces of meat.” Leopard took the meat, and Rat and his people went away to their own town.

But Leopard was not satisfied. He was sure that Rat had played him a trick. He had forgiven Rat his stealing at the camp; but, for this last trick, he meditated revenge.

TALE 3

Tests of Death—1st Version

Persons

Njĕgâ (Leopard) Ntori (Wild-Rat)

NOTE

It is the proper and most friendly mode, that relatives and friends should hasten to visit their sick, on the very first information, without waiting to be invited or summoned.

Leopard told his head-wife, “Ntori has taken our meat and deceived me in all these ways; I will kill him and eat him.”

So he pretended to be sick.

The next day, news was sent to Rat that his Uncle Leopard was sick of a fever.

The following day, word was again sent that he was very sick indeed, and that he wanted a parting word with Rat. Rat sent back a message, “I hear; and I will come tomorrow.”

Rat suspected some evil, and did not believe that Leopard was sick. So he went to the forest, and collected all kinds of insects that sting, and tied them into five little bundles.

Next day, word came to him, “Njĕgâ is dead.” Rat went quickly, taking the five little bundles with him.

When he reached Leopard’s town, he joined the crowd of mourners in the street, and lifted up his voice in wailing. Leopard’s head-wife went to him, and said, “Come into the house, and mourn with me, at your Uncle’s bed-side.” Rat went with her; but he did not take the seat that was offered him, as a near relative, at the supposed dead man’s head. He first explained, “After a person is reported dead, it is proper to make five tests to prove whether he is really dead, before we bury him.”

So he stood by the bed, at a point safe from Leopard’s hands, and opened a bundle, and lifting the shroud, quickly laid the bundle on Leopard’s naked body. The insects, infuriated by their imprisonment, flew out and attacked Leopard’s body, as it was the object nearest to them, and they were confined under the shroud. Leopard endured, and did not move.

Rat opened a second bundle, and thrust it also on another part of Leopard’s body. Leopard could scarcely refrain from wincing.

Rat opened a third, and laid it in the same way on another part. Leopard’s face began to twitch with the torture. Rat opening a fourth, used it in the same way; and Leopard in pain began to twist his body; but, when Rat opened the fifth bundle, Leopard could endure the stings no longer. He started up from the bed, holding a dagger he had hidden under the bed-clothing.

But Rat was too agile for him, and ran out before Leopard could fully rise from his supposed death-bed, and escaped to his own place. The mourners fled from the furious insects, and Leopard was left in agony under the poison of their stings.

TALE 3

Tests of Death—Second Version

Persons

Njĕgâ (Leopard) Ibâbâ (Jackal) With Ngomba (Porcupine) Nkambi (Antelope) Njâgu (Elephant) Ihĕli (Gazelle) Ekaga (Tortoise) With Ndongo (Pepper) Hako (Ants) And Nyoi (Bees) And Others

NOTE

All of a neighborhood go to a mourning for a dead person. Failure to go would have been regarded, formerly, as a sign of a sense of guilt as the cause of the death. Formerly, at funerals, there was great destruction. Some of a man’s wives and slaves were buried with him, with a large quantity of his goods; and his fruit trees adjacent to the houses were ruthlessly cut down. All, as signs of grief; as much as to say, “If the beloved dead cannot longer enjoy these things, no one else shall.”

The ancestor of the leopards never forgave the ancestor of the gazelles, but nursed his wrath at the trick which the latter had played on him with the insects. Unable to catch gazelles, because of their adroitness, the leopard wrecks his anger on all other beasts by killing them at any opportunity.

These two beasts, Leopard and Jackal, were living together in the same town. Leopard said to Jackal, “My friend! I do not eat all sorts of food; I eat only animals.” So, one day, Leopard went to search for some beast in the forest. He wandered many hours, but could not find any for his food.

On another day, Leopard said to Jackal, “My friend! let us arrange some plan, by which we can kill some animal. For, I’ve wandered into the forest again and again, and have found nothing.” Leopard made these remarks to his friend in the dark of the evening. So they sat that night and planned and, after their conversation, they went to lie down in their houses. And they slept their sleep.

Then soon, the daylight broke. And Leopard, carrying out their plan, said to Jackal, “Take up your bedding, and put it out in the open air of the street.” Jackal did so. Leopard laid down on that mattress, in accordance with their plan, and stretched out like a corpse lying still, as if he could not move a muscle. He said to Jackal, “Call Ngomba, and let him come to me.” So Jackal shouted, “Come! Ngomba, come! That Beast that kills animals is dead! Come!”

So Porcupine came to the mourning, weeping, and wailing, as if he was really sorry for the death of his enemy. He approached near the supposed corpse. And he jeered at it. “This was the person who wasted us people; and this is his body!” Leopard heard this derision. Suddenly he leaped up. And Porcupine went down under his paw, dead. Then Leopard said to his friend Jackal, “Well! cut it up! and let us eat it.” And they finished eating it.

On another day, Leopard, again in the street, stretched himself on the bedding. At his direction, Jackal called for Antelope. Antelope came; and Leopard killed him, as he had done to Porcupine.

On another day, Ox was called. And Leopard did to Ox the same as he had done to the others.

On another day, Elephant was called in the same way; and he died in the same way.

In the same way, Leopard killed some of almost all the other beasts one after another, until there were left only two.

Then Jackal said, “Njĕgâ! my friend! there are left, of all the beasts, only two, Ihĕli and Ekaga. But, what can you do with Ihĕli? for, he has many artifices. What, also, can you do against Ekaga? for, he too, has many devices.” Leopard replied, “I will do as I usually have done; so, tomorrow, I will lie down again, as if I were a corpse.”

That day darkened into night.

And another daylight broke.

And Leopard went out of the house to lie down on the bedding in the street. Each limb was extended out as if dead; and his mouth open, with lower jaw fallen, like that of a dead person.

Then Jackal called, “Ihĕli! come here! That person who wastes the lives of the beasts is dead! He’s dead!”

Gazelle said to himself, “I hear! So! Njĕgâ is dead? I go to the mourning!” Gazelle lived in a town distant about three miles. He started on the journey, taking with him his spear and bag; but, he said to himself, “Before I go to the mourning, I will stop on the way at the town of Ekaga.”

He came to the town of Tortoise, and he said to him, “Chum! have you heard the news? That person who kills Beasts and Mankind is dead!” But Tortoise answered, “No! go back to your town! that person is not dead. Go back!” Gazelle said, “No! For, before I go back to my town, I will first go to Njĕgâ’s to see.” So Tortoise said, “If you are determined to go there, I will tell you something.” Gazelle exclaimed, “Yes! Uncle, speak!”

Then Tortoise directed him, “Take ndongo.” Gazelle took some. Tortoise said, “Take also Hako, and take also Nyoi. Tie them all up in a bundle of plantain leaves.” (He told Gazelle to do all these things, as a warning.) And Tortoise added, “You will find Njĕgâ with limbs stretched out like a corpse. Take a machete with you in your hands. When you arrive there, begin to cut down the plantain-stalks. And you must cry out ‘Who killed my Uncle? who killed my uncle?’ If he does not move, then you sit down and watch him.”

So Gazelle went, journeyed and came to that town of mourning. He asked Jackal, “Ibâbâ! This person, how did he die?” Jackal replied, “Yesterday afternoon this person was seized with a fever; and today, he is a corpse.” Gazelle looked at Leopard from a distance, his eyes fixed on him, even while he was slashing down the plantains, as he was told to do. But, Leopard made no sign, though he heard the noise of the plantain-stalk falling to the ground. Presently, Jackal said to Gazelle, “Go near to your Uncle’s bed, and look at the corpse.”

Leopard began in his heart to arrange for a spring, being ready to fight, and thinking, “What time Ihĕli shall be near me, I will kill him.”

Gazelle approached, but carefully stood off a rod distant from the body of Leopard. Then Gazelle drew the bundle of Ants out of his bag, and said to himself, “Is this person, really dead? I will test him!” But, Gazelle stood warily ready to flee at the slightest sign. He quickly opened the bundle of insects; and he joined the three, the Ants, the Bees, and the Pepper, all in one hand; and, standing with care, he threw them at Leopard.

The bundle of leaves, as it struck Leopard, flew open. Being released, the Bees rejoiced, saying, “So! I sting Njĕgâ!” Pepper also was glad, saying, “So! I will make him perspire!” Ants also spitefully exclaimed, “I’ve bitten you!”

The pain of all these made Leopard jump up in wrath; and he leaped toward Gazelle. But he dashed away into the forest, shouting as he disappeared, “I’m not an Ihĕli of the open prairie, but of the forest wilderness!”

So, he fled and came to the town of Tortoise. There he told Tortoise, “You are justified! Njĕgâ indeed is not dead! He was only pretending, in order to kill.”

And Tortoise, remarked, “I am the doyen of Beasts. Being the eldest, if I tell any one a thing, he should not contradict me.”

TALE 4

Tasks Done for a Wife

Place

In Njambi’s Kingdom

Persons

A Rich Merchant and his Daughter Njâgu (Elephant) Njĕgâ (Leopard) Njina (Gorilla) Nguvu (Hippopotamus) Ekaga (Tortoise) Mbodi (An Enormous Goat) Servants, and Townspeople

NOTE

The artifices of Tortoise compete with the strength of Leopard. The story of the Giant Goat is a separate Tale in [No. 32], of Part Second.

In the time when Mankind and all other Animals lived together, to all the Beasts the news came that there was a Merchant in a far country, who had a daughter, for whom he was seeking a marriage. And he had said, “I do not want money to be the dowry that shall be paid by a suitor for my daughter. But, whosoever shall do some difficult works, which I shall assign him, to him I will give her.”

All the Beasts were competing for the prize.

First, Elephant went on that errand. The merchant said to him, “Do such-and-such tasks, and you shall have my daughter. More than that, I will give you wealth also.” Elephant went at the tasks, tried, and failed; and came back saying he could not succeed.

Next, Gorilla stood up; he went. And the merchant told him, in the same way as to Elephant, that he was to do certain tasks. Gorilla tried, and failed, and came back disgusted.

Then, Hippopotamus advanced, and said he would attempt to win the woman. His companions encouraged him with hopes of success, because of his size and strength. He went, tried, and failed.

Thus, almost all beasts attempted, one after another; they tried to do the tasks, and failed.

At last there were left as contestants, only Leopard and Tortoise. Neither was disheartened by the failure of the others; each asserted that he would succeed in marrying that rich daughter. Tortoise said, “I’m going now!” But Leopard said, “No! I first!” Tortoise yielded, “Well, go; you are the elder. I will not compete with you. Go you, first!” Leopard went, and made his application. The merchant said to him, “Good! that you have come. But, the others came, and failed. Try you.” Leopard said, “Very well.” He tried, and failed, and went back angry.

Tortoise then went. He saluted the merchant, and told him he had come to take his daughter. The merchant said, “Do so; but try to do the tasks first.”

Tortoise tried all the tasks, and did them all. The first was that of a calabash dipper that was cracked. The merchant said to him, “You take this cracked calabash and bring it to me full of water all the way from the spring to this town.” Tortoise looking and examining, objected, “This calabash! cracked! how can it carry water?” The merchant replied, “You yourself must find out. If you succeed, you marry my daughter.”

Tortoise took the calabash to the spring. Putting it into the water, he lifted it. But the water all ran out before he had gone a few steps. Again he did this, five times; and the water was always running out. Sitting, he meditated, “What is this? How can it be done?” Thinking again, he said, “I’ll do it! I know the art how!” He went to the forest, took gum of the Okume (mahogany tree) lighted a fire, melted the gum, smeared it over the crack, and made it water-tight; then, dipping the calabash into the spring, it did not leak. He took it full to the father-in-law, and called out, “Father-in-law! this is the calabash of water.” The merchant asked, “But what did you do to it?” He answered “I mended it with gum.” The father said, “Good for you! The others did not think of that easy simple solution. You have sense!”

Tortoise then said, “I have finished this one task; today has passed. Tomorrow I will begin on the other four.”

The next morning, he came to receive his direction from the merchant, who said, “Ekaga! you see that tall tree far away? At the top are fruits. If you want my daughter, pluck the fruits from the top, and you shall marry her.”

Tortoise went and stood watching and looking and examining the tree. Its trunk was all covered with soap, and impossible to be climbed. He returned to the merchant, and asked, “That fruit you wish, may it be obtained in any way, even if one does not climb the tree?” He was answered, “Yes, in any way, except cutting down the tree. Only so that I get the fruit, I am satisfied.”

Tortoise had already tried from morning to afternoon to climb that tree, but could not. So, after he had asked the merchant his question, he went back to the tree; and from evening, all night and until morning, he dug about the roots till they were all free. And the tree fell, without his having “cut” the trunk at all. So he took the fruit to the Merchant, and told him that he had not “cut down” the tree, but that he had it “dug up.” The merchant said, “You have done well. People who came before you failed to think of that. Good for you!”

On the third day, the merchant said to the spectators, “I will not name the other three tasks. You, my assistants, may name them.” So they thought of one task after another. But one and another said, “No, that is not hard; let us search for a harder.” Finally, they found three hard tasks. Tortoise was ready for and accomplished them all.

Then the merchant announced, “Now, you may marry my daughter; and tomorrow you shall make your journey.” They made a great feast; an ox was killed; and they had songs and music all night, clear on till morning.

But, while all this was going on, Leopard, who was left at his town, was saying to himself, “This Ekaga! He has stayed five days! Had he failed, he would not have stayed so long! So! he has been able to do the tasks! Is that a good thing?” (On the day that Tortoise started on the journey to seek the merchant’s daughter, Leopard had been heard to say, “If Ekaga succeeds in getting that wife, I will take her from him by force.”)

When Tortoise was ready to start on his return journey with his wife, the father-in-law gave him very many things, slaves and goats and a variety of goods, and said, “Go, you and your wife and these things. I send people to escort you part of the way. They are not to go clear on to your town, but are to turn back on the way.”

Tortoise and company journeyed. When the escort were about to turn back, Tortoise said, “Day is past. Make an olako (camp) here. We sleep here; and, in the morning, you shall go back.” That night he thought, “Njĕgâ said he would rob me of my wife. Perhaps he may come to meet me on the way!” So, he swallowed all of the things, to hide them,—wife, servants, and all.

While Tortoise was thus on the way, Leopard had planned not to wait his return to town, but had set out to meet him. So, in the morning, the two, journeying in opposite directions, met. Tortoise gave Leopard a respectful “Mbolo!” and Leopard returned the salutation. Leopard asked, “What news? That woman, have you married her?” Tortoise answered, “That woman! Not at all!” Leopard looking at Tortoise’s style and manner as of one proud of success, said, “Surely you have married; for you look happy, and show signs of success.” But Tortoise swore he had not married.

Leopard only said, “Good.” Then Tortoise asked, “But, where are you going?” Leopard answered, “I am going out walking and hunting. But you, where are you going?” Tortoise replied, “I did not succeed in marrying the woman; so I am going back to town. I tried, but I failed.”

“But,” said Leopard, “what then makes your belly so big?” Tortoise replied, “On the way I found an abundance of mushrooms, and I ate heartily of them. If you do not believe it, I can show you them by vomiting them up.” Leopard said, “Never mind to vomit. Go on your journey.”

And Leopard went on his way. But, soon he thought, “Ah! Ekaga has lied to me!” So he ran around back, and came forward to meet Tortoise again.

Tortoise looked and saw Leopard coming, and observed that his face was full of wrath. He feared, but said to himself, “If I flee, Njĕgâ will catch me. I will go forward and try artifice.” As he approached Leopard, the latter was very angry, and said, “You play with me! You say you have not married the woman I wanted. Tell me the truth!” Tortoise again swore an oath, “No! I have not married the woman! I told you I ate mushrooms, and offered to show you; and you refused.” So Leopard said, “Well, then, vomit.” Tortoise bent over, and vomited and vomited mushrooms and mushrooms; and then said triumphantly, “So! Njĕgâ you see!” Leopard looked, and said, “But, Ekaga, your belly is still full,—go on vomiting.” Tortoise tried to excuse himself, “I have done vomiting.” Leopard persisted, “No! keep on at it.” Tortoise went on retching; and a box of goods fell out of his mouth. Leopard still said, “Go on!” and Tortoise vomited in succession a table and other furniture. He was compelled to go on retching; and slaves came out. And at last, up was vomited the woman!

Leopard shouted, “Ah! Ekaga! you lied! You said you had not married! I will take this woman!” And he took her, sarcastically saying, “Ekaga, you have done me a good work! You have brought me all these things, these goods, and slaves, and a wife! Thank you!”

Tortoise thought to himself, “I have no strength for war.” So, though anger was in his heart, he showed no displeasure in his face. And they all went on together toward their town. With wrath still in his heart, he went clear on to the town, and then made his complaint to each of the townspeople. But they all were afraid of Leopard, and said nothing, nor dared to give Tortoise even sympathy.

There was in that country among the mountains, an enormous Goat. The other beasts, all except Leopard, were accustomed to go to that Goat, when hungry, and say, “We have no meat to eat.” And the Goat allowed them to cut pieces of flesh from his body. He could let any part of the interior of his body be taken except his heart. All the Animals had agreed among themselves not to tell Leopard where they got their meat, lest he, in his greediness, would go and take the heart. So they had told him they got their meat as he did, hunting.

Tortoise, angry because Leopard has taken his wife, said to himself, “I will make a cause of complaint against Njĕgâ that shall bring punishment upon him from our King. I will cause Njĕgâ to kill that Goat.” On another day, Tortoise went and got meat from the Goat, and came back to town, and did not hide it from Leopard. Leopard said to him, “Ekaga! where did you get this meat?” Tortoise whispered, “Come to my house, and I will tell you.” They went. And Tortoise divided the meat with him, and said, “Do not tell on me: but, we get the meat off at a great Goat. Tomorrow, I go; and you, follow behind me.”

So, the next day, they went, Tortoise as if by himself, and Leopard following, off to the great Goat. Arrived there, Leopard wondered at the sight, “O! this great Goat! But, from where do you take its meat?” Tortoise replied, “Wait for me! You will see!” He went, and Leopard followed. Tortoise said to the Goat, “We have meat-hunger: we come to seek meat from you.” The Goat’s mouth was open as usual; Tortoise entered, and Leopard followed, to get flesh from inside. In the Goat’s interior was a house, full of meat; and they entered it. Leopard wondered at its size; and Tortoise told him, “Cut where you please, but not from the heart, lest the Goat die.” And they began to take meat. Leopard, with greediness, coveting the forbidden heart, went with knife near to it.

Tortoise exclaimed, “There! there! be careful.” But Leopard, though he had enough other flesh, longed for the heart, and was not satisfied. He again approached with the knife near it: and Tortoise warned and protested. These very prohibitions caused Leopard to have his own way, and his greediness overcame him. He cut the heart: and the Goat fell dying.

Tortoise exclaimed, “Eh! Njĕgâ! I told you not to touch the heart! Because of this matter I will inform on you.” And he added, “Since it is so, let us go.”

But Leopard said, “Goat’s mouth is shut. How shall we get out? Let us hide in this house.” And he asked, “Where will you hide?” Tortoise replied, “In the stomach.” Leopard said, “Stomach! It is the very thing for me, Njĕgâ, myself!” So Ekaga consented, “Well! take it! I will hide in the gall-bladder.” So they hid, each in his place.

Soon, as they listened, they heard voices shouting, “The Goat is dead! A fearful thing! The Goat is dead!”

That news spread, and all who had been accustomed to get flesh there, came to see what was the matter. They all said that, as the Goat was dead, it was best to cut and divide him. They slit open the belly, and said, “Lay aside this big stomach; it is good; but throw away the bitter gall-sac.” They looked for the heart; but there was none! A child, to whom had been handed the gall-bladder to throw it away, was flinging it into some bushes. As he did so, out jumped something from among the bushes; and the child asked, “Who are you?” The thing replied, pretending to be vexed, “I am Ekaga; I come here with the others to get meat, and you, just as I arrived, throw that dirty thing in my face!” The other people pacified him, “Do not get angry. Excuse the child. He did not see you. You shall have your share.”

Then Tortoise called out, “Silence! silence! silence!”

They all stood ready to listen, and he said, “Do not cut up the Goat till we first know who killed it. That stomach there! What makes it so big?” Leopard, in the stomach, heard; but he did not believe that Tortoise meant it, and thought to himself, “What a fool is this Ekaga, in pretending to inform on me, by directing attention to the stomach!” Tortoise ordered, “All you, take your spears, and stick that stomach! For the one who killed Goat is in it!” And they all got their spears ready.

Leopard did not speak or move; for, he still thought Tortoise was only joking. Tortoise began with his spear, and the others all thrust in. And Leopard holding the heart, was seen dying! All shouted, “Ah! Njĕgâ killed our Goat! Ah! he’s the one who killed it.” Tortoise taunted Leopard, “Asai! (shame for you) you took my wife; and now you are dead!” Leopard died. They divided the Goat, and returned to town. Tortoise took again his wife and all his goods, now that Leopard was dead. And he was satisfied that his artifice had surpassed Leopard’s strength.

TALE 5

A Tug-of-War

Persons

Ekaga (Tortoise) Njâgu (Elephant) Ngubu (Hippopotamus)

NOTE

African natives are sensitive about questions of equality and seniority. A certain term, “Mwĕra” (chum) may be addressed to other than an equal, only at risk of a quarrel.

A story of the trick by which Tortoise apparently proved himself the equal of both Elephant and Hippopotamus.

Observe the preposterous size of Elephant’s trunk! But everything, to the native African mind, was enormous in the pre-historic times.

Leopard was dead, after the accusation against him by Tortoise for killing the great Goat. The children of Leopard were still young; they had not grown to take their father’s power and place. And Tortoise considered himself now a great personage. He said to people, “We three who are left,—I and Njâgu and Ngubu, are of equal power; we eat at the same table, and have the same authority.” Every day he made these boasts; and people went to Elephant and Hippopotamus, reporting, “So-and-so says Ekaga.” Elephant and Hippopotamus laughed, and disregarded the report, and said, “That’s nothing, he’s only to be despised.”

One day Hippopotamus met Elephant in the forest; salutations were made, “Mbolo!” “Ai, mbolo!” each to the other. Hippopotamus asked Elephant about a new boast that Tortoise had been making, “Have you, or have you not heard?” Elephant answered, “Yes, I have heard. But I look on it with contempt. For, I am Njâgu. I am big. My foot is as big as Ekaga’s body. And he says he is equal to me! But, I have not spoken of the matter, and will not speak, unless I hear Ekaga himself make his boast. And then I shall know what I will do.” And Hippopotamus also said, “I am doing so too, in silence. I wait to hear Ekaga myself.”

Tortoise heard of what Elephant and Hippopotamus had been threatening, and he asked his informant just the exact words that they had used, “They said that they waited to hear you dare to speak to them; and that, in the meanwhile, they despised you.”

Tortoise asked, “So! they despise me, do they?” “Yes,” was the reply. Then he said, “So! indeed, I will go to them.” He told his wife, “Give me my coat to cover my body.” He dressed; and started to the forest. He found Elephant lying down; his trunk was eight miles long; his ears as big as a house, and his four feet beyond measure.

Tortoise audaciously called to him, “Mwĕra! I have come! You don’t rise to salute me? Mwĕra has come!” Elephant looked, rose up and stared at Tortoise, and indignantly asked, “Ekaga! whom do you call ‘Mwĕra’?” Tortoise replied, “You! I call you ‘Mwĕra.’ Are you not, Njâgu?” Elephant, with great wrath, asked, “Ekaga! I have heard you said certain words. It is true that you said them?”

Tortoise answered, “Njâgu, don’t get angry! Wait, let us first have a conversation.” Then he said to Elephant, “I did call you, just now, ‘Mwĕra’; but, you, Njâgu, why do you condemn me? You think that, because you are of great expanse of flesh, you can surpass Ekaga, just because I am small? Let us have a test. Tomorrow, sometime in the morning, we will have a lurelure (tug-of-war).” Said Elephant, “Of what use? I can mash you with one foot.” Tortoise said, “Be patient. At least try the test.” So, Elephant, unwilling, consented. Tortoise added, “But, when we tug, if one overpulls the other, he shall be considered the greater; but, if neither, then we are Mwĕra.”

Then Tortoise went to the forest, and cut a very long vine, and coming back to Elephant, said “This end is yours. I go off into the forest with my end to a certain spot, and tomorrow I return to that spot; and we will have our tug, and neither of us will stop, to eat or sleep until either you pull me over or the vine breaks.” Tortoise went far off with his end of the vine to the town of Hippopotamus, and hid the vine’s end at the outskirts of the town. He went to Hippopotamus and found him bathing, and going ashore, back and forth, to and from the water. Tortoise shouted to him, “Mwĕra! I have come! You! Come ashore! I am visiting you!” Hippopotamus came bellowing in great wrath with wide open jaws, ready to fight, and said, “I will fight you today! For, whom do you call ‘Mwĕra’?”

Tortoise replied, “Why! you! I do not fear your size. Our hearts are the same. But, don’t fight yet! Let us first talk.” Hippopotamus grunted, and sat down; and Tortoise said, “I, Ekaga, I say that you and I and Njâgu are equal, we are Mwĕra. Even though you are great and I small, I don’t care. But if you doubt me, let us have a trial. Tomorrow morning let us have a lurelure. He who shall overcome, shall be the superior. But, if neither is found superior, then we are equals.” Hippopotamus exclaimed that the plan was absurd; but, finally he consented.

Tortoise then stood up, and went out, and got his end of the vine, and brought it to Hippopotamus, and said, “This end is yours. And I now go. Tomorrow, when you feel the vine shaken, know that I am ready at the other end; and then you begin, and we will not stop to eat or sleep until this test is ended.”

Hippopotamus then went to the forest to gather leaves of Medicine with which to strengthen his body. And Elephant, at the other end, was doing the same, making medicine to give himself strength; and at night they were both asleep.

In the morning, Tortoise went to the middle of the vine, where at its half-way, he had made on the ground a mark; and he shook it towards one end, and then towards the other. Elephant caught his end, as he saw it shake, and Hippopotamus did the same at his end. “Orindi went back and forth” (a proverb of a fish of that name that swims in that way), Elephant and Hippopotamus alternately pulling. “Nkĕndinli was born of his father and mother” (a proverb, meaning distinctions in individualities). Each one, Hippopotamus and Elephant, doing in his own way. Tortoise smiled at his arrangement with each, that, in the tug, if one overcame, it would be proved by his dragging the other; but, if neither overcame, they were not to cease, until the vine broke.

Elephant holding the vine taut, and Hippopotamus also holding it taut, Tortoise was laughing in his heart as he watched the quivering vine.

He went away to seek for food, leaving those two at their tug, in hunger. He went off into the forest and found his usual food, mushrooms. He ate his belly full, and then took his drink; and then went to his town to sleep.

He rose in late afternoon, and said to himself, “I’ll go and see about the tug, whether those fools are still pulling.” When he went there, the vine was still stretched taut; and he thought, “Asai! shame! let them die with hunger!” He sat there, the vine trembling with tensity, and he in his heart mocking the two tired beasts. The one drew the other toward himself; and then, a slight gain brought the mark back; but neither was overcoming.

At last Tortoise nicked the vine with his knife; the vine parted; and, at their ends, Elephant and Hippopotamus fell violently back onto the ground. Tortoise said to himself, “So! that’s done! Now I go to Elephant with one end of the broken vine; tomorrow to Hippopotamus.” He went, and came on to Elephant, and found him looking dolefully, and bathing his leg with medicine, and said, “Mwĕra! How do you feel? Do you consent that we are Mwĕra?” Elephant admitted, “Ekaga, I did not know you were so strong! When the vine broke, I fell over and hurt my leg. Yes, we are really equal. Really! strength is not because the body is large. I despised you because your body was small. But actually, we are equal in strength!”

So they ate and drank and played as chums; and Tortoise returned to his town.

Early the next morning, with the other end of the broken vine, he went to visit Hippopotamus, who looked sick, and was rubbing his head, and asked, “Ngubu! How do you feel, Mwĕra?” Hippopotamus answered, “Really! Ekaga! so we are equals! I, Ngubu, so great! And you, Ekaga, so small! We pulled and pulled. I could not surpass you, nor you me. And when the vine broke, I fell and hurt my head. So, indeed strength has no greatness of body.” Tortoise and Hippopotamus ate and drank and played; and Tortoise returned to his town.

After that, whenever they three and others met to talk in palaver (council) the three sat together on the highest seats. Were they equal? Yes, they were equal.

TALE 6

Agĕnda: Rat’s Play on a Name

Persons

Njĕgâ (Leopard) Ntori (Rat) Rângi (Frog) Igâmbâ (Crab)

NOTE

In native African etiquette, a company of persons is saluted with the use of the verb in the plural; but only the oldest, or the supposed leader, if his name is known, is mentioned by name.

The native custom among polite tribes, is to leave a guest to eat without being watched.

The twitching of a muscle of an arm, or any other part of the body (called okalimambo) is regarded as a sign of coming evil. Compare Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1.

“By the pricking of my thumb

Something wicked this way comes.”

The absurd and the unreasonable (e.g., the swallowing of a wife, goats, servants, etc.) are a constant feature of the native legends in their use of the impossible.

All native Africans have more than one name, and often change their names to suit circumstances. But, while all their names have a meaning (just as our English names, “Augustus,” “Clara,” etc.) those meanings are not thought of when denominating an individual; e.g., “Bwalo” which means canoe.

Leopards do not like to wet their feet.

Leopard wanted a new wife. So he sought for a young woman of a far country, of whom he heard as a nice girl, a daughter of one of the Kings of that country. He did not go himself, but sent word, and received answer by messenger. Neither the woman nor her father had ever seen Leopard. They knew of him only by reputation.

The King was pleased with the proposed alliance, and assented, saying, “Yes! I am willing. Go! get yourself ready, and come with your marriage company.” So Leopard went around and invited many other beasts, “Come! and help me get a new one!” They all replied, “Yes!” And they all started together for the King’s town.

When they had gone half-way, one of their number, a big forest Rat said, “Brothers! let us begin here to change our names, so that when we get to the town, we shall not be known by our usual names.” But Leopard refused, “No! I won’t! I stick by my old name. My name is Njĕgâ.” All the others said the same, and retained their own names.

But Rat insisted for himself, “I will not be called Ntori. I will be called ‘Strangers.’ My name is Agĕnda,” (the plural of ogĕnda which means “stranger”).

When they approached the town, the inhabitants, with great politeness, ran out to welcome them, shouting, “Agĕnda! Saleni, Saleni!” (Strangers! Welcome ye! welcome ye!) Rat turned to the company and said, “Hear that! you see they are saluting me as the leader of this company.”

Upon their entering the town, they were shown to the large public Reception-House; and the people said to them, “Now! strangers (Agĕnda!), march in!” Rat turned again to his companions, and said, “You see! they have again addressed me specially by name, asking me to take possession of this room.”

They all went in feeling uncomfortably; but Rat said to them, “Never mind! though this room was evidently prepared specially for me, I am not selfish, and I invite you to share it with me.”

After the visitors had all been seated, the people came to give them the formal final salutation, saying “Strangers (Agĕnda), mbolani! (long life to ye).” Rat promptly whispered to his companions, saying, “This mbolo is to me for you, I alone will respond to it.” So, only he replied, “Ai Mbolani! Ai.” (Mbolani is the second person plural of the irregular defective verb Mbolo equal to “live long.”)

The day passed. In the evening, the people brought in an abundant supply of food, and set it down on the table, saying, “Strangers (Agĕnda!), eat! Here is your food!” And they went out, closing the door, so that the guests in their eating should not be annoyed by spectators. Then Rat said, “You see! All this food is mine, though I am not able to eat it all.” He alone began to eat of it. When he had satisfied his appetite, he said, “Truly this food is my own, but I am sorry for you, and I will give you of it.” So he gave out to each, one by one, very small pieces of fish and plantain.

In the morning, the people thoughtfully sent water for the usual morning washing of hands and face. Rat hasted to open the door; and the slaves carrying the vessels of water, said to him, “These are sent to the strangers (Agĕnda).” So Rat took the water and used it all for himself.

This second day was a repetition of the first. The townspeople continued their hospitality, sending food and drink and tobacco and fruits; and making many kind inquiries of what “the Agĕnda” would like to have. Rat, received all these things as for himself; while the rest of the company felt themselves slighted, and were hungry and disgusted.

On the third day, the company said among themselves, “Njĕgâ told us that our visit was to last the usual five days; but we cannot stand such treatment as this!” And they began to run away, one by one. Even Leopard himself followed them, provoked at his expected father-in-law’s supposed neglect of him. But, before Leopard had gone, Rat went to the bride elect, and said, “I never saw such a party as this! They do not eat, and are not willing to await the Marriage Dance for the Bride on the fifth day.”

When they were all secretly gone, leaving Rat alone, he said to the woman, “I will tell them all to go, even my friend Njĕgâ whom I brought to escort me. But I will not go without you, even if we have not had the dance; for, I am the one who was to marry you.” And the father of the girl said to Rat, “Since they have treated you so, never mind to call them again for the Dance. You just take your wife and go.”

So the King gave his daughter farewell presents of boxes of clothing, and two female servants to help her, and a number of goats, and men-servants to carry the baggage.

Rat and wife and attendants set out on their journey. When they were far away from the King’s town, Rat exclaimed, “I feel okalimambo (premonition).” (He suspected that Leopard was somewhere near.) So he dismissed the men-servants, and sent them back to the King. And then quickly, in order to hide them, he swallowed the woman and the two maid-servants and all the boxes of clothing, and the goats.

Rat then went on, and on, and on, with his journey, until at a cross-roads, he saw Leopard coming cross-ways toward him; and he called out, “Who are you?” The reply came, “I am Njĕgâ. And who are you?” Rat answered, “Ntori.”

Then Leopard called to him, “Come here!” “No!” said Rat, “I am in a hurry, and want to get home—” And he went on without stopping. So Leopard said, “Well, I pass on my way too!” “Good!” said Rat, “Pass on!” And they went on their separate ways.

But Leopard, at a turn in his road, rounded back, and hasted by another path to get in front of Rat. When Leopard again saw Rat a short distance before him, he calls out, “Who are you?” The reply was “Ntori; and who are you?” Leopard answered, “I’m Njĕgâ. Stop on your way, and come here to me!” Rat replied, “No! you asked me once before to stop, and I refused. And I refuse now; I must pass on.”

Because of Rat’s unwillingness to stop, Leopard began to chase him, and to shout at him, “You have my wife!” Rat answered back, “No! I have no wife of yours!” “You lie! You have the woman with you. What makes your body so big?”

Rat ran as fast as he could, with Leopard close after him. Rat’s home is always a hole in the ground; and, as he was hard pressed in his flight, he dashed into the first hole he came to, which happened to be a small opening into a cave. But his tail was not yet drawn in and Leopard was so near that he seized it. Projecting from the mouth of the hole there was also the small root of a tree. Rat called out, “Friend Njĕgâ! what do you think you have caught hold of?” “Your tail!” said Leopard. Said Rat, “That is not my tail! this other thing near you is my tail!” So Leopard let go of the tail, and seized the root. Rat slid quickly to the bottom of the hole, and called out, “O! Njĕgâ! I did not think you were so silly! You had hold of my tail, and you let me go! You just look at your hand; you will see my tail-hairs clinging to it!”

Leopard went away in wrath; and, finding Frog at a near-by brook, he said to him, “Rângi! you just watch. I do not want Ntori to escape from that hole. Watch, while I go to get some fire, with which to burn him out.”

Shortly after Leopard had gone, Rat began to creep out. Seeing Frog standing on guard, he said, “Good Rângi! let me pass!” But Frog replied, “No! I have my orders to watch you here.” Then said Rat, “If that is so, why don’t you come close here, and attend to your duty? You are too far from this hole. If a person is set to watch, he should be near the thing he watches. As far as you are there, I could, if I tried, get out without your catching me. So, it is better for you to have a good look down this hole.” While Rat was saying all this, he was near the mouth of the hole; but, as Frog approached, he receded to the bottom, and went to the back end of the cave, where cayenne pepper bushes were growing. Frog came to the edge of the hole, and looking down, saw nothing.

During this while, Rat was plucking pepper-pods and chewing them, retaining them in his mouth. Returning again to the entrance, he saw Frog still watching, and he said, “Rângi! get out of my way, and let me pass. Let me out!” Frog replied, “I will not!” Rat asked, “Do you know me?” Frog replied, “Not very well.” Then Rat said, “Come near! Open your eyes wide, and take a good look at me!” As soon as Frog’s eyes were wide open, Rat blew the pepper into them. This so startled Frog that he fell back, his eyes blinded by the smarting; and Rat jumped out and ran away. Frog, heedless of his prisoner, was jumping about in pain; and, abandoning his post, crawled to the water of the brook not far away, and tumbled into it to wash his eyes.

Now, by this time, Leopard had returned with his fire. Seeing no one on guard, he called out, “Rângi! Rângi! where are you?” Frog, at the bottom of the brook, was still in agony with his eyes. He knew well that Rat was gone; but, in his vexation, he answered, “Ntori is there! Put in your fire!” So, Leopard put fire into the hole, and made a great smoke, but there was no sign of Rat.

After a long time, Leopard became tired at not finding Rat, and called out, “Rângi! Rângi! Where indeed is Ntori? He has not come out by this fire!” Then Frog answered, “Ntori is not there. I just lied to you in vexation of the pain I got through serving you.” So, Leopard was very angry and said to Frog, “You have deceived and fooled me! I will just come and eat you up!” Said Frog, “Good! come on!”

Leopard ran to the brook, but, as Frog was at the bottom, Leopard had first to drink all the water, before he could reach him. Leopard drank and drank. But, as soon as the water was nearly drunk up, Frog jumped out, and hopped away to an adjacent pond. There Leopard followed, and began to drink up that water also. He drank, and drank, and drank, until he became so full and his belly so swollen that his feet no longer touched the ground; and he fell over on his back, before he had entirely emptied the pond. He was in such great pain, in his swollen belly, that he was helpless, and cried out to passersby, “Please, open a little hole in my body, and let out this water!” But each of the passersby said, “No! I am afraid that after I have helped you, then you will eat me.”

At last, among those who passed by, came Crab. Leopard pleaded with him, “Igâmbâ! please! open my skin. Let out this water, so that I may live!” At first, Crab replied as the others, “No! I fear that after I help you, you will eat me.” But Leopard begged so piteously that Crab consented, and scratched Leopard’s skin with one of his claws. And the water spurted out! It came in so fast a current that it began to sweep Crab away. So Leopard cried out, “Igâmbâ! Please! do not let yourself be taken away! Catch hold on some root or branch!” Crab did so, holding on to a projecting root. When the water had subsided, and Crab was safe, Leopard was able to rise; and he said, “Igâmbâ! you have been kind to me; let me take you home, and I will be good to you; I will cook dinner, so we can eat together.” Crab agreed, and they went together.

Leopard began to cook a kind of yam called nkwa, making a pot full of it. (When it is thoroughly cooked, it is soft and sticky.) The yam being finally ready to be eaten, Leopard said, “We do not put this food out on plates, but we bring the entire pot, and every one will help himself from it with his hands.” Leopard thereupon began to take out handfuls of the nkwa, and to eat it. Crab tried to do the same, putting a claw into the sticky mass. But its heat burned his tender skin, and, in jerking his claw away, it stuck fast in the nkwa, and broke off. As soon as that happened, Leopard snatched up the claw and ate it. Crab protested, “Ah! Njĕgâ! you are eating my claw!” Said Leopard, “Excuse me! No, I thought it was nkwa.” So the dinner went on; Leopard greedily eating, Crab trying in vain to eat, and losing claw after claw, which Leopard in succession promptly ate.

Now, when Leopard had finished eating all the food, Crab’s claws were all gone, and he had not been able to eat at all, and was left hungry. So Leopard says to Crab, “Now, as you are so helpless, what must I do for you?” He hoped that Crab, in despair, would tell him to eat him. But Leopard really was not hungry just then; and, when Crab said, “If you will just put me into some shallow water for two months, then all my claws will grow all right again,” Leopard replied, “Good!” and he took Crab and placed him in a small stream of water.

The next day, Leopard, being now hungry to eat Crab, came to the water and called out, “Igâmbâ! Igâmbâ! have you your claws grown now?” The reply was, “Why! No! I told you two months yesterday, when you put me in here.”

On the third day, Leopard came again to the water, and cried out to Crab, “Have your claws sprouted? Have they grown again?” “No!” said Crab curtly.

Leopard continued thus day by day, vexing Crab with inquiries, as if anxious about his health, but really desirous of an excuse to eat him, yet ashamed to do so by violence, because of Crab’s kindness to him when he had the water-colic.

At last, Crab became tired of Leopard’s visits. Hopeless to defend himself if Leopard should finally use force, he gave up in despair, and said, “So! I see why you ask me every day. You know that I told you two months. If you are determined to eat me, come on, and end the trouble at once!” With this permission as an excuse, Leopard was glad. He stepped to the edge of the water and took away Crab for his dinner. That was the return for Crab’s kindness to him. After this, Leopard went out again to try to find Rat, but he never found him.

TALE 7

“Nuts Are Eaten Because of Angângwe”; A Proverb

Places

Kingdom of the Hogs; The Forest; and Towns

Persons

Angângwe, King of Hogs A Hunter Ingowa (Hogs; singular Ngowa) Njina (Gorilla) Nyare (Ox) Nkambi (Antelope) Njâgu (Elephant)

NOTE

“Inkula si nyo o’kângâ ’Ngângwe.”

This is a proverb expressing the obligation we all owe to some superior protecting powers.

The Hogs had cleared a space in the forest, for the building of their town. They were many; men and women and children.

In another place, a Hunter was sitting in his town. Every day, at daybreak, he went out to hunt. When he returned in the afternoons with his prey, he left it a short distance from the town, and entering his house, would say to his women and children, “Go to the outskirts of the town, and bring what animal you find I have left there.”

One day, having gone hunting, he killed Elephant. The children went out to cut it up and bring it in.

Another day, he killed Gorilla.

And so, each day, he killed some animal. He never failed of obtaining something.

One day, his children said to him, “You always return with some animal; but you never have brought us Ngowa.” He replied, “I saw many Ingowa today, when I was out there. But, I wonder at one thing; that, when they are all together eating, and I approach, they run away. As to Ingowa, they eat nkula nuts and I know where the trees are. Well, then, I ambush them; but, when I go nearer, I see one big Ngowa not eating, but going around and around the herd. Whether it sees me or does not see, sure when I get ready to aim my gun, then they all scatter. The reason that Ingowa escape me, I do not know.”

The Hogs, when they had finished eating, and were returning to their own town, as they passed the town of Elephant, heard mourning; and they asked, “Who is dead?” The answer was, “Njâgu is dead! Njâgu is dead!” They inquired, “He died of what disease?” They were told, “Not disease; Hunter killed him.” Then another day, when Ox was killed, his people were heard mourning for him. Another day, Antelope was killed; and his people were mourning for him. All these animals were dying because of Hunter killing them.

At first, the Hogs felt pity for all these other Beasts. But, when they saw how they were dying, they began to mock at them, “These are not people! They only die! But, as to us Ingowa, Hunter is not able to kill us. We hear only the report that there is such a person as Hunter, but he is not able to kill us.”

When Hogs were thus boasting, their King, Angângwe, laughed at them, saying, “You don’t know, you Ingowa! You mock others, that Hunter kills them?” They answered, “Yes, we mock at them; for, we go to the forest as they do, but Hunter does not touch us.” Angângwe asked, “When you thus in the forest eat your inkula-nuts, you each one eat them by his own strength and skill?” They answered, “Yes; ourselves we go to the forest on our own feet; we ourselves pick up and eat the inkula. No one feeds us.” Angângwe said, “It is not so. Those inkula you eat si nyo o’kângâ wa oma (they are eaten because of a person).” They insisted, “No, it is not so. Inkula have no person in particular to do anything about them.” Thus they had this long discussion, the Hogs and their King; and they got tired of it, and lay down to sleep.

In the morning, when daylight came, the King said, “A journey for nuts! But, today, I am sick. I am not able to go to gather nuts with you. I will stay in town.” The Hogs said, “Well! we do not mistake the way. It is not necessary for you to go.”

When they went, they were jeering about their King, “Angângwe said, ‘Inkula si nyo o’kângâ w’ oma’; but we will see today without him.” They went to the nkula trees, and found great abundance fallen to the ground during the night. The herd of Hogs, when they saw all these inkula, jumped about in joy. They stooped down to pick up the nuts, their eyes busy with the ground. They ate and ate. No one of them thought of Hunter, whether he was out in the forest.

But, that very morning, Hunter had risen, taken his gun and ammunition-box, and had gone to hunt. And, after awhile, he had seen the Hogs in the distance. They were only eating and eating, not looking at anything but nuts.

Hunter said in his heart, “These Hogs, I see them often, but why have I not been able to kill them?” He crept softly nearer and nearer. Creeping awhile then he stood up to spy; and again stooping, and again standing up to spy. He did not see the big Hog which, on other days, he had always observed going around and around the herd. Hunter stooped close to the ground, and crept onward. Then, as he approached closer, the Hogs still went on eating. He bent his knee to the earth, and he aimed his gun! Ingowa still eating! His gun flashed! and ten Hogs died!

The Hogs fled; some of them wounded. Those who were not wounded, stopped before they reached their town, and said, “Let us wait for the wounded.” They waited. When the hindmost caught up and joined the others, they showed them their wounds, some in the head, some in the legs. These wounded ones said, “As we came, we saw none others behind us. There are ten of us missing; we think they are dead.” So, they all returned toward their Town; and, on their way, began to mourn.

When they had come clear on to the town, Angângwe asked, “What news, from where you come?” They answered, “Angângwe! evil news! But we do not know what is the matter. Only we know that the words you said are not really so, that ‘nuts are eaten because of a certain person.’ Because, when we went, each one of us gathered by his own skill, and ate by his own strength, and no one trusted to any one else. And when we went, we ate abundantly, and everything was good. Except that, Hunter has killed ten of us. And many others are wounded.”

The King inquired, “Well! have you brought nuts for me who was left in Town?” They replied, “No; when Hunter shot us, we feared, and could no longer wait.” Then Angângwe said, “I told you that inkula are eaten because of a person, and you said, ‘not so.’ And you still doubt me.”

Another day, the Hogs went for inkula; and the King, remained in town. And, as on the other day, Hunter killed them. So, for five successive days, they went, the King staying in town; and Hunter killing them.

Finally, Angângwe said to himself, “Ingowa have become great fools. They do not consent to admit that nuts are eaten by reason of a certain person. They see how Hunter kills them; and they still doubt my words. But, I pity them. Tomorrow, I will go with them to the nuts. I will explain to them how Hunter kills them.”

So, in the morning, the King ordered, “Come all to nuts! But when we go for the nuts, if I say, ‘Ngh-o-o!’ then every one of you who are eating them must start to town, and not come back, because then I have seen or smelt Hunter; and I grunt to let you know.” All the Hogs agreed. They went on clear to the nkula trees, and ate, they stooping with eyes to the ground. But Angângwe, not eating, kept looking here and there. He sniffed wind from south to north, and assured them, “Eat you all! I am here!” He watched and watched; and presently he saw a speck far away. He passed around to sniff the wind. His nose uplifted, he caught the odor of Hunter. He returned to the herd, grunted “Ngh-o-o.” And he and they all fled. They arrived safely at town.

Then he asked them, “Who is dead? who is wounded?” They assured, “None.” He said, “Good!”

Thus they went nutting, for five consecutive days, they and their King, Angângwe only keeping watch. And none of them died by Hunter.

Then Angângwe said to them, “Today let us have a conversation.” And he began, “I told you, inkula si nyo o’kângâ w’ oma; you said, ‘Not so!’ But, when you went by yourselves to eat nuts, did not Hunter kill you? And these five days that we have gone, you and I together, and you obeyed my voice, who has died?”

They then replied, “No one! no one! Indeed, you spoke truly. You are justified. Inkula si nyo o’kângâ wa ’Ngângwe. It is so!”

TALE 8

Who Are Crocodile’s Relatives?

Persons

Ngando (Crocodile) Sinyani (Birds) Sinyama (Beasts)

NOTE

An Argument in Evolution—When and How does Life begin?

Crocodile was very old. Finally he died. News of his death spread abroad among the Beasts; and his relatives and friends came to the Mourning. After a proper number of days had passed, the matter of the division of the property was mentioned. At once a quarrel was developed, on the question as to who were his nearest relatives.

The tribe of Birds said, “He is ours and we will be the ones to divide the property.” Their claim was disputed, others asking, “On what ground do you claim relationship? You wear feathers; you do not wear plates of armor as he.” The Birds replied, “True, he did not wear our feathers. But, you are not to judge by what he put on during his life. Judge by what he was in his life’s beginning. Look you! In his beginning, he began with us as an egg. We believe in eggs. His mother bore him as an egg. He is our relative, and we are his heirs.”

But the Beasts said, “Not so! We are his relatives, and by us shall his property be divided.”

Then the Council of Animals demanded of the Beasts on what ground they based their claim for relationship, and what answer they could make to the argument of the birds as to Crocodile’s egg-origin.

The Beasts said, “It may be true that the mark of tribe must be found, in a beginning, but not in an egg. For, all Beings began as eggs. Life is the original beginning. Look you! When life really begins in the egg, then the mark of tribe is shown. When Ngando’s life began, he had four legs as we have. We judge by legs. So we claim him as our relative. And we will take his property.”

But, the Birds answered, “You Beasts said we were not relatives because we wear feathers, and not ngando-plates. But, you, look you! Judge by your own words. Neither do you wear ngando-plates, you with your hair and fur! Your words are not correct. The beginning of his life was not, as you say, when little Ngando sprouted some legs. There was life in the egg before that. And his egg was like ours, not like what you call your eggs. You are not his relatives. He is ours.”

But the Beasts disputed still. So the quarrel went back and forth. And they never settled it.

TALE 9

Who is King of Birds?

Places

The Country of Birds in Njambi’s Kingdom Njambi’s Town

Persons

Ra-Njambi (Lord or Master of all) Njâgâni (Chicken) Ngozo (Parrot) Ngwanyâni (Eagle) Ugulungu (Schizorhis, Plantain-Eater)

NOTE

1st—Ability to Speak a greater gift than ability in Walking, Flying, or any other Force.

2nd—Why Chickens live with Mankind.

All the Birds had their dwelling-place in a certain country of Njambi’s Kingdom. The pelicans, chickens, eagles, parrots and all other winged kinds all lived together, separated from other animals, in that country under the Great Lord Njambi.

One day, they were discussing together on the question, “Who is King of the Birds?” They all, each one, named himself, e.g., the Chicken said, “I!;” the Parrot, “I!” the Eagle “I!” and so on. Every day they had this same discussion. They were not able to settle it, or to agree to choose any one of their number. So, they said, “Let us go to Ra-Njambi, and refer the question to him.” They agreed; and all went to him so that he might name who was the superior among them. When they all had arrived at Njambi’s Town, he asked, “What is the affair on which you have come?” They replied, “We have come together here, not to visit, but for a purpose. We have a discussion and a doubt among ourselves. We wish to know, of all the Birds, who is Head or Chief. Each one says for himself that he is the superior. This one, because he knows how to fly well; that one because he can speak well; and another one, because he is strong. But, of these three things,—flight, speech, and strength, we ask you, which is the greatest?”

Immediately all the Birds began a competition, each one saying, “Choose me; I know how to speak!” Njambi silenced them, and bade them, “Well, then, come here! I know that you all speak. But, show me, each one of you, your manner of speaking.”

So Eagle stood up to be examined. Njambi asked him, “How do you speak? What is your manner of talking?” Eagle began to scream, “So-o-we! so-o-we! so-o-we!” Njambi said, “Good! Now call me your wife!” The wife of Eagle came, and Njambi said to her, “You are the wife of Ngwanyâni, how do you talk?” The wife replied, “I say, ‘So-o-we! So-o-we! So-o-we!’ ” Ra-Njambi said to Eagle, “Indeed! you and your wife speak the same kind of language.” Eagle answered, “Yes; I and my wife, we speak alike.” They were ordered, “Sit you aside.”

Then Ra-Njambi directed, “Bring me here Ngozo.” And he asked, “Ngozo, how do you talk? What is your way of speaking?” Parrot squawked, “I say, ‘Ko-do-ko!’ ” Ra-Njambi ordered, “Well, call me your wife!” She came; and he asked her, “How do you talk? Talk now!” The wife replied, “I say, ‘Ko-do-ko!’ ” Njambi asked Parrot, “So! your wife says, ‘Ko-do-ko?’ ” Parrot answered “Yes; my wife and I both say, ‘Ko-do-ko.’ ”

Njambi then ordered, “Call me here, Ugulungu.” He came, and was asked, “And how do you talk?” He shouted, “I say, ‘Mbru-kâ-kâ! mbru-kâ-kâ! mbru!’ ” Njambi told him, “Call me your wife!” She came, and, when asked, spoke in the same way as her husband. Njambi dismissed them, “Good! you and your wife say the same thing. Good!”

So, all the Birds, in succession, were summoned; and they all, husband and wife, had the same mode of speaking, except one who had not hitherto been called.

Njambi finally said, “Call Njâgâni here!” The Cock stood up, and strutted forward. Njambi asked him, “What is your speech? Show me your mode of talking!” Cock threw up his head, stretched his throat, and crowed, “Kâ-kâ-re-kââ.” Njambi said, “Good! summon your wife hither.” The wife came; and, of her, Njambi asked, “And, what do you say?” She demurely replied, “My husband told me that I might talk only if I bore children. So, when I lay an egg, I say ‘Kwa-ka! Kwa-ka!’ ” Njambi exclaimed, “So! you don’t say, ‘Kâ-kâ-re-kââ,’ like your husband?” She replied, “No, I do not talk as he.”

Then Njambi said to Cock, “For what reason do you not allow your wife to say, ‘Kâ-kâ-re-kââ?’ ” Cock replied, “I am Njâgâni, I respect myself. I jeer at all these other birds. Their wives and themselves speak only in the same way. A visitor, if he comes to their towns, is not able to know, when one of them speaks, which is husband and which is wife, because they both speak alike. But I, Njâgâni, as to my wife, she is unable to speak as I do. I do not allow it. A husband should be at the head; and in his wife it is not becoming for her to be equal with him or to talk as well as he does.”

Njambi listened to this long speech; and then inquired, “Have you finished?” Chicken answered, “Yes.”

Njambi summoned all the Birds to stand together in one place near him, and he said, “The affair which you brought to me, I settle it thus:—Njâgâni is your Head; because you others all speak, husband and wife, each alike. But, he speaks for himself in his own way, and his wife in her way; to show that a husband has priority and superiority over a wife. Therefore, as he knows how to be Head of his family, it is settled that Njâgâni is Head also of your Tribe.”

But, Njambi went on to say, “Though this is true, you, Njâgâni, don’t you go back again into the Forest, to your Kingship of the Birds. For the other birds will be jealous of you. You are not strong, you cannot fight them all. Lest they kill you, stay with me in my Town.”

Cock went to get his wife and children, and returned and remained there with Ra-Njambi. Therefore, the original bird to dwell among Mankind was the chicken.

When the other Birds scattered and went back to their own forest country without their king, they said, “Let it be so! We will not choose another King. Our King has left us, and has emigrated to another country, and has sat down in Njambi’s Town.”

So, the Birds have lived in the forest without any King.

There is another story which gives a different explanation of chickens being the first of birds to dwell among Mankind.

The Birds had no fire. They had to eat their food raw, and to shiver on cold days. In flying over the other countries, they saw Mankind using, in the preparation of their food, a thing which birds did not have. They observed that that thing seemed to add much to the comfort of Mankind. So, they chose Chicken, not as their King, but, because he knew so well how to speak, to go as their messenger, to ask Mankind to share that thing with them. Chicken left the Forest, and started on his journey, and came to the towns of Men.

He found so much food lying around, and it tasted so good because it had been touched by that bright thing which he heard people call “Fire,” that he delayed the delivery of his message. And Men were pleased with his usefulness in awaking them in the morning, as he called them to get up and make their fires. The situation was so comfortable, as Mankind allowed him to walk in and out of their houses at will, that he forgot his errand, and chose to stay with Men, and never went back to the Forest.

The birds, having no one else who united both audacity to act and ability to speak, never sent another messenger on that errand, and they remain without fire to this day.

TALE 10

“Njiwo Died of Sleep”: A Proverb

Persons

Njiwo (A Species of Antelope) Nyare (Ox)

NOTE

An event (the supposed death of the red antelope) is traced to its first cause (sleep) back of the immediate causes (the people who actually sought to kill him). Whence the proverb, “Eziwo a juwi na Antyâvinâ.” “Eziwo” is a familiar way of pronouncing Njiwo.

Antelope and Ox went to a town to dance Bweti (a certain spirit-dance). After the dance, Antelope, exhausted with the exercise, fell asleep in the Bweti-house. While he was there, certain persons made a plot to kill him. Ox heard of it, and came to warn him, calling gently, (lest he should be overheard and himself seized), “Njiwo! Eziwo!” But antelope did not hear, and Ox made no further effort, and ran away to his home in fear for his own life.

Then came Antelope’s wife, while he still slept, and loudly called him. He, only half-awake, grumbled, “What do you call me for? Let me rest. I’m tired by the dancing.” She persisted, “I call you because certain persons want to kill you.” But, he, still heavy with sleep, did not understand, and was not willing to rise, and went on sleeping. Then his wife, unable to arouse him, went to call other people to help her.

While she was away, his enemies came and tied him with ropes, and left him there tied, still sleeping, alone in the house. They locked the house, and went away, intending to return and kill him when he should awake. Before they came back, his wife returned with aid; and, with machetes and knives, they cut open the door, and found him with his limbs tied, and still sleeping. They roughly shook him, and he, half-conscious, asked, “What do you want here?” His wife replied, “I have come to carry you away.” So, she untied the ropes, and they lifted him and carried him away, still too sleepy to walk himself.

While all this was going on, the people of the town to which Ox had fled, asked him, “There were two of you who went to dance Bweti. You are here, but where is the other?” Ox, assuming that Antelope was dead, and not knowing what Antelope’s wife had done, told how he had been unable to waken him, and said, “Eziwo was killed while asleep.” Then the village people said regretfully, “Eh! Eziwo! Sleep has killed him!”

In the meantime, Antelope and his wife had reached the town, where the news of his death had preceded them; and the people wondered, saying, “Nyare reported that you were cut to pieces!” Then Antelope’s wife explained that he would have been killed, because Ox had not made every effort to arouse him from his deep sleep.

So the friendship of Ox and Antelope ended. And the proverb came, that, “Eziwo died of sleep.”

TALE 11

Which is the Fattest?

Persons

King Ra-Mborakinda Manga (Manatus) Ngowa (Hog; Pl. Ingowa) Arandi (Oyster)

NOTE

Accept no challenge whose test you know you cannot endure. Oyster, without fat, accepted the challenge of the fat Hog and the fatter Manatus.

The fat of the Manatus, or dugong seal, is delicious and very abundant.

Ra-Mborakinda was dwelling in his Town, with his people and the glory of his Kingdom. There were gathered there the Manatus, the Oyster and the Hog, waiting to be assigned their kingdoms. To pass the time, while waiting until the King should summon them for their assignments, Oyster said, “You, Manga, and Ngowa, let us have a dance!” And they went to exhibit before the King. They danced and danced, each one dancing his own special dance.

After that they made a fire, each one at his own fire-place, and sat down to rest. Then Hog proposed a new entertainment. He said, “You, Arandi, and Manga, we all three shall test ourselves by fire, to see who has the most fat.” And they all three went into their respective fire-places, Hog into his, and Manatus into his, and Oyster into its. Under the influence of the heat, the fat in their bodies began to melt.

Then the King announced, “To the one who shall prove to have the most fat, I will give a great extent of country as its kingdom.” So, they all three tried to show much fat, in their effort to win the prize.

Presently, the fat of Hog began to cease exuding, for he had not a great deal. As to Oyster, it had no fat. What it produced was not fat at all, but water; and that was in such quantity that it put out its fire.

These facts about the Hog and Oyster were reported to the King, and when he inquired how Manatus was getting on, lo! it was found that she had such abundance of fat, that the oil flowing from her had burst into flame and had set the town on fire.

At this, the King wondered, and exclaimed, “This Manga, that lives in the water, has yet enough fat to set the town afire!”

Then Manatus with Hog and Oyster went and sat together in the open court before the King’s house, to await what would be his decision. When he was ready, he sent two heralds to summon not only those three, but all the Tribes of the Beasts of the Forest, and of the Fishes of the Sea; and the town was full of these visitors. But, Hog and all his tribe had become impatient of waiting, and had gone off for a walk. All the other animals that had been summoned, came into the King’s presence, and he, having ascended his throne, said, “I am ready now to speak with these three persons; but, I see that the Ingowa are not here. So, because of their disrespect in going off to amuse themselves with a walk instead of waiting for me, I condemn that they shall no longer wear any horns.”

Then the King announced that, as Manatus had the most fat, her promised territory should be the Sea, and of it she should be ruler. But, Manatus said, “I do not want to live in the Sea, lest I be killed there.” The King asked, “Then, where will you prefer to live?” She answered, “In such rivers as I shall like.”

That is the reason that the Manatus lives only in rivers and bays. For, one day she and her children had floated with the tide to the mouth of a river and into the Sea; and some of them had been killed there by sharks and other big fish. So, the Manatus is never now found near the Sea on ordinary tides, but only when high tides have swept it down.

Just as the King had made his announcement, the company of Hogs returned and entered the Assembly. They explained, “We have just come back from our walk, and we wish to resume our horns which we left here.” But the King refused, and kept possession of the horns. Hog begged, “Please! let me have my horns!” But the King swore an oath, saying, “O savi! (By the Blessing!) wherever you go, and whatever you be, you shall have no horns.” So the Hogs departed.

Now Oyster stood up, and said, “I wish to go to my place. Where shall it be?” The King said, “I will give you no other place than what you already have had. I do not wish to put you into the fresh-water springs and brooks with Manga. You shall go into the salty waters.” So Oyster went; and its race lives on the edge of the rivers, near the Sea, in brackish waters. And the King said to Oyster, “All the tribes of Mankind, by the Sea, when they fail to obtain other fish, shall be allowed to eat you.”

All knew that this was a punishment given by the King to Oyster, for having dared the test by fire, pretending that it had fat, the while it had none.

TALE 12

Why Mosquitoes Buzz

Persons

Mbo (Mosquito) Oroi (Ear) Aga (Hands)

NOTE

It is a practice of African natives, after taking a bath, to anoint their bodies with some oil or grease.

In the time of Long-ago, in Njambi’s Town, Mosquito and Ear went out to take a bath together. After taking her bath, Ear began to rub an oily substance over herself; while Mosquito did not. So Ear said to Mosquito, “Why do you leave your skin so rough? It is better to rub on a little oil.” Mosquito replied, “I have none.” So Ear said, “Indeed! I did not know that. I will give you part of mine, as I have plenty.” Mosquito had to wait the while that Ear was rubbing the soft wax over herself. But, as soon as Ear had finished, she put back the wax into her ear where she usually kept it, and did not fulfill her promise to Mosquito.

When Mosquito saw this, that the wax was put away, he came near to the door, and said, “I want the oil you promised for rubbing on my body.” But Ear took no notice of him, except to call on Hands to drive Mosquito away.

So, to this day, Mosquito is not willing to cease making his claim for the unfulfilled promise; and is always coming to our ears, and buzzing and crying. Always Mosquito comes and says, “I want my oil, Bz-z-z-z.” But Ear remains silent, and gives no answer. And Mosquito keeps on grumbling and complaining, and gets angry and bites.

TALE 13

Unkind Criticism

Persons

Tyema (A Black Monkey) Ekaga (Tortoise)

NOTE

This story is probably of comparatively recent origin though known at least fifty years ago. It seems to point to the time when white men began to taunt negroes because of their color, the common insult by an angry white master being “You black monkey!” The tale cannot antedate the first coming of white men to West Africa three hundred years ago; for, no native would have invented this insult, though they do now imitate white men, when, in a quarrel, they wish to taunt an opponent.

The Black Monkey, up a tree, saw Tortoise passing beneath, slowly and awkwardly moving step by step. Monkey laughed at the dull manner and appearance of Tortoise; and, to tease one whom he thought stupid and unable to resent insult, he jumped down onto the back of Tortoise. There, safely perched, he jeered at Tortoise, saying many unkind things. Tortoise was unable to throw off his tormentor; nor could he reach him. His short hands and feet could not touch Monkey. So, Tortoise was compelled to carry Monkey on the way, the while that the latter was taunting him. Finally, the patience of Tortoise was exhausted, and, his indignation being aroused, he stopped, and said angrily, “Get off of my back, you black monkey!”

Monkey was sensitive about his color; and, at that word “black,” he slipped off, and went away ashamed. But he was angry also, and determined to have some revenge.

Some time after this, Monkey made a feast, and invited a number of beasts, among the rest Tortoise. But Monkey purposely placed all the dishes up high, so that Tortoise, unable to reach to them, could get no food, as he vainly went around and around the table. All the while, Monkey was sarcastically urging him to come and help himself and eat. Tortoise bore it without complaint; and at the end of the feast, he went away hungry. But he also determined to have his revenge.

On another day, Tortoise made a feast, and invited the same persons who had seen his humiliation at the house of Monkey. Monkey came to the feast. But Tortoise had prepared the food in only one dish, around which the company were to sit on the ground, and from which they were to eat with their hands. Before calling them to eat, Tortoise had provided water and soap for them to wash their hands previous to their putting them into the same dish. As Monkey was about to put his, Tortoise reminded him that it was black, and that he should first wash it. He said, “Here is water, and the soap by which white people keep their hands from getting black.”

Monkey was ashamed, and lathered the soap over his hands until they were white with foam. “Now,” said Tortoise, “put your hand into the water to remove the foam.” Monkey did so; and his hands were still black.

The rest of the company objected to his black hand going into their food. And he went away ashamed and hungry.

TALE 14

The Suitors of Princess Gorilla

Place

Njambi’s Country

Persons

King Njina (Gorilla) and His Daughter Njâgu (Elephant) Nguwu (Hippopotamus) Bejaka (Fishes: Sing. Ejaka) Ngowa (Hog) Njĕgâ (Leopard) Telinga (a very small Monkey)

NOTE

This story evidently dates back to the first introduction of Rum into Africa. Gorilla’s “new kind of water” was Rum.

Telinga’s cheating did not finally succeed in obtaining him the wife; but was the cause of his now living only in trees; whereas formerly he lived in the long grass. The Telinga are very numerous, and they all look so alike that one cannot be distinguished from another. In the story, he had arranged with all his companions to help him drink.

In the Gorilla Country there are no lions, and there he is readily called the King of Beasts, because of the fearful length and strength of his arms.

How absurd that so horribly ugly a caricature of a human being should be supposed to have a beautiful daughter!

King Gorilla had a daughter, whose beauty had been much praised. She being of marriageable age, he announced to all the tribes that he would give her in marriage to any one who could accomplish a certain task. He said he would not take any of the goods usually given in payment for a wife, as dowry. But, that he had a new kind of water, such as had never before been seen; and, whoever could drink an entire barrelful of it, should have the prize that had been coveted by many.

So, all the tribes came together one day in the forest country of the King, to compete for the young woman, and the paths were crowded with the expectant suitors on their way to the King’s Court.

First, because of his size, Elephant stepped forward. He walked with his solemn dignity, his ponderous feet sounding, tubu, tubu, as he strode toward where the barrel stood. He could, however, scarcely suppress his indignation, in the presence of the King, at what he considered the insultingly small test to which he was about to be subjected. He thought in his heart, “That barrelful of water! Why! I, Njâgu, when I take my daily bath, I spurt from my trunk many barrelfuls over my whole body, and I drink half a barrelful at every meal. And this! Why! I’ll swallow it down in two gulps!” He thrust his proboscis into the barrel to draw up a big mouthful. But, he instantly withdrew it, before he began to suck up any of it. “The new water” stung him. He lifted his trunk, and trumpeting with rage, declared that the task was impossible.

Many in the company, who had feared that the big elephant would leave no chance for them, secretly rejoiced at his failure; and began to hope for themselves.

Then Hippopotamus blundered forward. He was in haste, for he was sure he would succeed. He was not as big or heavy as Elephant, though he was more awkward. But he did not hesitate to boast aloud what he could do. “You, Njâgu, with your big body, afraid of that little barrel of water! Why! I live in water half of the time. And when I begin to drink in a river, I cause the Bejaka to be frightened.” So he came bellowing and roaring, in order to impress the young woman with his importance. But his mouth had not sunk into the barrel as he thrust his nose in, before he jerked his head up with a bigger bellow of pain and disgust at the new water. Without making even a bow to the King, he shambled off to a river to wash his mouth.

Next came Hog. He said to Gorilla, “King Gorilla, I do not boast like those two other fellows, nor will I insult you as they have done, even if I fail. But, I do not think I shall fail. I am accustomed to putting my nose into all sorts of dirty places; so I shall try.” He did try, slowly and carefully. But, even he, used to all sorts of filth and bad smells, turned from the barrel in disgust, and went away grunting.

Then Leopard came bounding forward, boasting and jumping from side to side to show his beautiful skin to the young woman. He derided the other three who had preceded him. “O! you fellows! You had no chance at all, even if you had drunk up that water. The woman would not look at you, nor live with such blundering, awkward gawks as you. Look at my graceful body and tail! These strong but soft paws of mine! And, as to that barrel, you shall see in a few minutes. Though we of the Cat Tribe do not like to wet our feet, I will do it for the sake of the woman. I’m the dandy of the Forest, and I shall go at it more gracefully than you.” He leaped onto the barrel. But, its very fumes sickened him. He made one vain effort. And with limp tail between his legs he crawled away to hide his shame.

One after another of the various Beasts attempted. And all failed. Finally, there crept forward the little Telinga. He had left the hundreds of his Tribe of little Monkeys hidden out in the grass field. As he advanced, there was a murmur of surprise from the unsuccessful spectators. Even King Gorilla could not refrain from saying, “Well! my little fellow! what do you want?” Telinga replied, “Your Majesty, did not you send word to all the Tribes that any one might compete?” “Yes, I did,” he answered. And Telinga said, “Then I, Telinga, small as I am, I shall try.” The King replied, “I will keep my royal word. You may try.” “But, Your Majesty,” asked Telinga, “is it required that the barrel must be drank at one draught? May I not, between each mouthful, take a very short rest out in the grass?” Said Gorilla, “Certainly, just so you drink it today.”

So Telinga took a sip, and leaped off into the grass. And, apparently, he immediately returned, and took another sip and leaped back into the grass; and, apparently, immediately returned again. And apparently—(They were his companions who had come one by one to help him!) Thus the barrelful of firewater was rapidly sipped away.

King Gorilla announced Telinga as the winner of the prize.

What the young woman thought of the loss of her graceful lovers, the Antelopes and others, is not known. For, when Telinga advanced to take her, Leopard and others dashed at him, shouting, “You miserable little snip of a fellow! You’ve won her; but if we can’t have her you shan’t. There! take that! and that! and that!” as they began to beat and kick and bite him.

In terror, he jumped into the trees, abandoning his bride.

And he and his tribe have remained in the trees ever since, afraid to come down to the ground.

TALE 15

Leopard of the Fine Skin

Place

Town of King Mborakinda

Persons

King Mborakinda Ilâmbe, His Daughter Ra-Marânge, A Doctor And Other People Njĕgâ (Leopard) Kabala (A Magic Horse) Ogula-Ya-Mpazya-Vazya, A Sorcerer

NOTE

Leopards can swim if compelled to, but they do not like to enter water, or wet their feet in any way.

At the town of Ra-Mborakinda, where he lived with his wives and his children and his glory, this occurred.

He had a beloved daughter, by name Ilâmbe. He loved her much; and sought to please her in many ways, and gave her many servants to serve her. When she grew up to womanhood, she said that she did not wish any one to come to ask her in marriage; that she herself would choose a husband. “Moreover, I will never marry any man who has any, even a little bit of, blotch on his skin.”

Her father did not like her to speak in that way; nevertheless, he did not forbid her.

When men began to come to the father and say, “I desire your daughter Ilâmbe for a wife,” he would say, “Go, and ask herself.” Then when the man went to Ilâmbe’s house, and would say, “I have come to ask you in marriage,” her only reply was a question, “Have you a clear skin, and no blotches on your body?” If he answered, “Yes,” Ilâmbe would say, “But, I must see for myself; come into my room.” There she required the man to take off all his clothing. And if, on examination, she saw the slightest pimple or scar, she would point toward it, and say, “That! I do not want you.” Then perhaps he would begin to plead, “All my skin is right, except—.” But she would interrupt him, “No! for even that little mark I do not want you.”

So it went on with all who came, she finding fault with even a small pimple or scar. And all suitors were rejected. The news spread abroad that Ra-Mborakinda had a beautiful daughter, but that no one was able to obtain her, because of what she said about diseases of the skin.

Still, many tried to obtain her. Even animals changed themselves to human form, and sought her, in vain.

At last, Leopard said, “Ah! this beautiful woman! I hear about her beauty, and that no one is able to get her. I think I better take my turn, and try. But, first I will go to Ra-Marânge.” He went to that magic-doctor, and told his story about Ra-Mborakinda’s fine daughter, and how no man could get her because of her fastidiousness about skins. Ra-Marânge told him, “I am too old. I do not now do those things about medicines. Go to Ogula-ya-mpazya-vazya.”

So, Leopard went to him. As usual, the sorcerer Ogula jumped into his fire; and coming out with power, directed Leopard to tell what he wanted. So he told the whole story again, and asked how he should obtain the clean body of a man. The sorcerer prepared for him a great “medicine” by which to give him a human body, tall, graceful, strong and clean. Leopard then went back to his town, told his people his plans, and prepared their bodies also for a change if needed. Having taken also a human name, Ogula, he then went to Ra-Mborakinda, saying, “I wish your daughter Ilâmbe for wife.”

On his arrival, at Ra-Mborakinda’s, the people admired the stranger, and felt sure that Ilâmbe would accept this suitor, exclaiming, “This fine-looking man! his face! and his gait! and his body!” When he had made his request of Ra-Mborakinda, he was told, as usual, to go to Ilâmbe and see whether she would like him. When he went to her house, he looked so handsomely, that Ilâmbe was at once pleased with him. He told her, “I love you; and I come to marry you. You have refused many. I know the reason why, but I think you will be satisfied with me.” She replied, “I think you have heard from others the reason for which I refuse men. I will see whether you have what I want.” And she added, “Let us go into the room; and let me see your skin.”

They entered the room; and Ogula-Njĕgâ removed his fine clothing. Ilâmbe examined with close scrutiny from his head to his feet. She found not the slightest scratch or mark; his skin was like a babe’s. Then she said, “Yes! this is my man! truly! I love you, and will marry you!” She was so pleased with her acquisition, that she remained in the room enjoying again a minute examination of her husband’s beautiful skin. Then she went out, and ordered her servants to cook food, prepare water, etc., for him; and he did not go out of the house, nor have a longing to go back to his town, for he found that he was loved.

On the third day, he went to tell the father, Ra-Mborakinda, that he was ready to take his wife off to his town. Ra-Mborakinda consented. All that day, they prepared food for the marriage-feast. But, all the while that this man-beast, Ogula-Njĕgâ was there, Ra-Mborakinda, by his okove (a magic fetish) knew that some evil would come out of this marriage. However, as Ilâmbe had insisted on choosing her own way, he did not interfere.

After the marriage was over, and the feast eaten, Ra-Mborakinda called his daughter, and said, “Ilâmbe, mine, now you are going off on your journey.” She said, “Yes; for I love my husband.” The father asked, “Do you love him truly?” She answered “Yes.” Then he told her, “As you are married now, you need a present from me, as your ozendo (bridal gift).” So, he gave her a few presents, and told her, “Go to that house,” indicating a certain house in the town; and he gave her the key of the house, and told her to go and open the door. That was the house where he kept all his charms for war, and fetishes of all kinds. He told her, “When you go in, you will see two Kabala, standing side by side. The one that will look a little dull, with its eyes directed to the ground, take it; and leave the brighter looking one. When you are coming with it, you will see that it walks a little lame. Nevertheless, take it.” She objected, “But, father, why do you not give me the finer one, and not the weak one?” But he said, “No!” and made a knowing smile, as he repeated, “Go, and take the one I tell you.” He had reason for giving this one. The finer-looking one had only fine looks; but this other one would some day save her by its intelligence.

She went and took Horse, and returned to her father; and the journey was prepared. The father sent with her, servants to carry the baggage, and to remain with and work for her at the town of her marriage. She and her husband arranged all their things, and said good-bye, and off they went, both of them sitting on Horse’s back.

They journeyed and they journeyed. On the way, Ogula-Njĕgâ, though changed as to his form and skin, possessed all his old tastes. Having been so many days without tasting blood or uncooked meats, as they passed through the forest of wild beasts, the longing came on him. They emerged onto a great prairie, and journeyed across it toward another forest. Before they had entirely crossed the prairie, the longing for his prey so overcame him that he said, “Wife, you with your Kabala and the servants stay here while I go rapidly ahead; and wait for me until I come again.” So he went off, entered the forest, and changed himself back to Leopard. He hunted for prey, caught a small animal, and ate it; and another, and ate it. After being satisfied, he washed his hands and mouth in a brook; and, changing again to human form, he returned on the prairie to his wife.

She observed him closely, and saw a hard, strange look on his face. She said, “But, all this while! What have you been doing?” He made an excuse. They went on.

And the next day, it was the same, he leaving her, and telling her to wait till he returned; and hunting and eating as a Leopard. All this that was going on, Ilâmbe was ignorant of. But Horse knew. He would speak after awhile, but was not ready yet.

So it went on, until they came to Leopard’s town. Before they reached it, Ogula-Njĕgâ, by the preparations he had first made, had changed his mother into a human form in which to welcome his wife. Also the few people of the town, all with human forms, welcomed her. But, they did not sit much with her. They stayed in their own houses; and Ogula-Njĕgâ and his wife stayed in theirs. For a few days, Leopard tried to be a pleasant Ogula, deceiving his wife. But his taste for blood was still in his heart. He began to say, “I am going to another town; I have business there.” And off he would go, hunting as a leopard; when he returned, it would be late in the day. So he did on other days.

After a time, Ilâmbe wished to make a food-plantation, and sent her men-servants to clear the ground. Ogula-Njĕgâ would go around in the forest on the edge of the plantation; and catching one of the men, there would return that day one servant less.

One by one, all the men-servants were thus missing; and it was not known what became of them, except that Leopard’s people knew. One night Ogula-Njĕgâ was out; and, meeting one of the female servants, she too was reported missing.

Sometimes, when Ogula-Njĕgâ was away, Ilâmbe, feeling lonesome, would go and pet Horse. After the loss of this maid-servant, Horse thought it was time to warn Ilâmbe of what was going on. While she was petting him, he said, “Eh! Ilâmbe! you do not see the trouble that is coming to you!” She asked, “What trouble?” He exclaimed, “What trouble? If your father had not sent me with you, what would have become of you? Where are all your servants that you brought with you? You do not know where they go to, but I know. Do you think that they disappear without a reason? I will tell you where they go. It is your man who eats them; it is he who wastes them!” She could not believe it, and argued, “Why should he destroy them?” Horse replied, “If you doubt it, wait for the day when your last remaining servant is gone.”

Two days after that, at night, another maid-servant disappeared. Another day passed. On another day, Ogula-Njĕgâ went off to hunt beasts, with the intention that, if he failed to get any, at night he would eat his wife.

When he had gone, Ilâmbe, in her loneliness, went to fondle Horse. He said to her, “Did I not tell you? The last maid is gone. You yourself will be the next one. I will give you counsel. When you have opportunity this night, prepare yourself ready to run away. Get yourself a large gourd, and fill it with ground-nuts; another with gourd-seeds; and another with water.” He told her to bring these things to him, and he would know the best time to start.

While they were talking, Leopard’s mother was out in the street, and heard the two voices. She said to herself, “Ilâmbe, wife of my son, does she talk with Kabala as if it was a person?” But, she said nothing to Ilâmbe, nor asked her about it.

Night came on; and Ogula-Njĕgâ returned. He said nothing; but his face looked hard and bad. Ilâmbe was troubled and somewhat frightened at his ugly looks. So, at night, on retiring, she began to ask him, “But why? Has anything displeased you?” He answered, “No; I am not troubled about anything. Why do you ask questions?” “Because I see it in your face that your countenance is not pleasant.” “No; there’s no matter. Everything is right. Only, about my business, I think I must start very early.” Ogula-Njĕgâ had begun to think, “Now she is suspecting me. I think I will not eat her this night, but will put it off until next night.”

That night, Ilâmbe did not sleep. In the morning, Leopard said that he would go to his business, but would come back soon. When he was gone away to his hunting work, Ilâmbe felt lonesome, and went to Horse. He, thinking this a good time to run away, they started at once, without letting any one in the village know, and taking with them the three gourds. Horse said that they must go quickly; for, Leopard, when he discovered them gone, would rapidly pursue. So they went fast and faster, Horse looking back from time to time, to see whether Leopard was pursuing.

After they had been gone quite a while, Ogula-Njĕgâ returned from his business to his village, went into his house, and did not see Ilâmbe. He called to his mother, “Where is Ilâmbe?” His mother answered, “I saw Ilâmbe with her Kabala, talking together; they have been at it for two days.” Ogula-Njĕgâ began to search; and, seeing the hoof-prints, he exclaimed, “Mi asaiya (shame for me). Ilâmbe has run away. I and she shall meet today!”

He instantly turned from his human form back to that of leopard, and went out, and pursued, and pursued, and pursued. But, it took some time before he came in sight of the fugitives. As Horse turned to watch, he saw Leopard, his body stretched low and long in rapid leaps. Horse said to Ilâmbe, “Did I not tell you? There he is, coming!” Horse hasted, with foam dropping from his lips. When he saw that Leopard was gaining on them, he told Ilâmbe to take the gourd of peanuts from his back, and scatter them along behind on the ground. Leopards like peanuts; and when Ogula-Njĕgâ came to these nuts, he stopped to eat them. While he was eating, Horse gained time to get ahead. As soon as Leopard had finished the nuts, he started on in pursuit again, and soon began to overtake. When he approached, Horse told Ilâmbe to throw out the gourd-seeds. She did so. Leopard delayed to eat these seeds also. This gave Horse time to again get ahead. Thus they went on.

Leopard, having finished the gourd-seeds, again went leaping in pursuit; and, for the third time, came near. Horse told Ilâmbe to throw the gourd of water behind, with force so that it might crash and break on the ground. As soon as she had done so, the water was turned to a stream of a deep wide river, between them and Leopard. Then he was at a loss. So, he shouted, “Ah! Ilâmbe! Mi asaiya! If I only had a chance to catch you!” So, he had to turn back.

Then Horse said, “We do not know what he may do yet; perhaps he may go around and across ahead of us. As there is a town which I know near here, we had better stay there a day or two while he may be searching for us.” He added to her, “Mind! this town where we are going, no woman is allowed to be there, only men. So, I will change your face and dress like a man’s. Be very careful how you behave when you take your bath, lest you die.” Ilâmbe promised; and Horse changed her appearance. So, a fine-looking young man was seen riding into the street of the village. There were exclamations in the street, “This is a stranger! Hail! stranger; hail! Who showed you the way to come here?” This young man answered, “Myself; I was out riding; I saw an open path; and I came in.” He entered a house, and was welcomed; and they told him their times of eating, and of play, etc. But, on the second day, as this young man went out privately, one of the men observed, and said to the other, “He acts like a woman!” The others asked, “Really! you think so?” He asserted, “Yes! I am sure!” So, that day Ilâmbe was to meet with some trouble; for, to prove her, the men had said to her, “Tomorrow we all go bathing in the river, and you shall go with us.” She went to ask Horse what she should do. He rebuked her, “I warned you, and you have not been careful. But, do not be troubled; I will change you into a man.”

That night, Ilâmbe went to Horse; and he changed her. He also told her, “I warn you again. Tomorrow you go to bathe with the others, and you may take off your clothes; for, you are now a man. But, it is only for a short time, because we stay here only a day and a night more, and then we must go.”

The next morning all the town went to play, and after that to bathe. When they went into the water, the other men were all expecting to see a woman revealed; but they saw that their visitor was a man. They admired his wonderfully fine physique. On emerging from the water, the men said to the one who had informed on Ilâmbe, “Did you not tell us that this was a woman? See, how great a man he is!” As soon as they said that, the young man Ilâmbe was vexed with him, and began to berate him, saying, “Eh! you said I was a woman?” And she chased him and struck him. Then they all went back to the town.

In the evening, Horse told Ilâmbe, “I tell you what to do tomorrow. In the morning, you take your gun, and shoot me dead. After you have shot me, these men will find fault with you, saying ‘Ah! you shoot your horse, and did not care for it?’ But, do not say anything in reply. Cut me in pieces, and burn the pieces in the fire. After this, carefully gather all the black ashes; and, very early in the following morning, in the dark before any one is up, go out of the village gateway, scatter the ashes, and you will see what will happen.”

The young man did all this. On scattering the ashes, he instantly found himself changed again to a woman, and sitting on Horse’s back; and they were running rapidly away.

That same day, in the afternoon, they came to the town of the father Ra-Mborakinda. On their arrival there, they (but especially Horse) told their whole story. Ilâmbe was somewhat ashamed of herself; for, she had brought these troubles on herself by insisting on having a husband with a perfectly fine skin. So, her father said, “Ilâmbe, my child, you see the trouble you have brought on yourself. For you, a woman, to make such a demand was too much. Had I not sent Kabala with you, what would have become of you?” The people gave Ilâmbe a glad welcome. And she went to her house, and said nothing more about fine skins.

TALE 16

Why The Plantain-Stalk Bears But One Bunch

Persons

Oyila (Oil-Palm Tree) Mbindi (Wild Goat) Akândâ (Plantain-Stalk)

NOTE

According to native law of hospitality, duty to a guest requires almost any sacrifice. This is oriental. (See Genesis Chap. 19, vs. 8.) A plantain-stalk bears but one bunch. Therefore, to gather the fruit, the stalk with apparent ruthlessness is cut down. But, there are always from two to five young sprouts at the base, from 2 feet to 5 feet in height, which, in succession, take the place of the parent stem.

Observe the Cannibalism. All African tribes were formerly Cannibals. Many interior tribes still are. This story is a marked illustration of the characteristic impossibilities in native tales, “Plantain” being at one and the same time a plant and a human being!

Palm-tree produced Plantain tree.

Then there stood up an animal called Wild Goat, and it went to seek marriage with Palm-tree’s daughter Plantain. It was so arranged; and the marriage was held.

As Goat and his wife were about departing to his own town, Palm-tree gave some parting advice to her daughter Plantain; “When you shall be about to become a mother, come back and stay with me.”

Not long after this, Plantain was to become a mother; and people went to Palm-tree to inform her of the fact. This daughter Plantain did not obey her mother’s directions, but remained in the town until her child was born. This was told to mother Palm-tree, who was dissatisfied, and said, “Eh! I told Akândâ to have her child born with me!”

The reason that Palm-tree had given this direction to Plantain was, that, as her own custom, in bearing her palm-nuts, was to have several bunches in sight at one time, and ripening in succession, she wished her daughter to have the same habit.

After Plantain had borne her child, it grew well and became very strong. One day, strangers came to the town on a visit; and, when the villagers looked for food for the visitors, to their shame, they found they had none. Then one of the women of the village said, “Well! let us cut down this Akândâ, and cook it and eat it.” So, a machete was seized, and Plantain’s stalk was slashed, and Palm-tree’s child Plantain was taken and cooked and eaten. At this, people went and told Palm-tree, saying, “Your child is cut down, and is cooked and eaten.” The mother Palm-tree helplessly replied, “What can I do?”

All this while, the husband Goat had been away on a journey. When he returned, and came to his town, and found that his wife, Palm-tree’s child, was not there, he asked, “My wife; is she dead?” The people answered him, “Yes!” “But,” he asked, “for what reason did she die?” They answered, “Because the people of the town had no food for their guests.” Mbindi complained further, saying, “So! when Akândâ was cooked, you gave your guests only plantains; were you so inhospitable as to give them also no meat or fish?”

At this the people were vexed, and they said, “Well then! let this husband be killed and eaten as the meat!” So they killed and ate him.

This news, people also carried to Palm-tree, telling her that Plantain’s husband was also killed and eaten.

Then Palm-tree came to the town to speak about the death of Plantain. The people justified themselves, saying, “But, what else could we do? It was necessary to provide for the guests.”

Palm-tree submitted, “Truly, had Akândâ obeyed me and come to me and borne her child in my presence, she would have had abundance, and would not have died.”

PART SECOND

Benga Tribe