‘Once upon a time a man married two wives. And he hoed two rice-patches, and made a boundary between them, and assigned one to each. Both women sowed rice, and when it was time to keep off the birds, one of the women took her water-jar and placed it on the boundary as a drinking-place (for the use of those watching the crops?). And her companion planted some pumpkin-seeds near the other woman’s water-jar. And a shoot of the pumpkin plant grew over the rim of the jar, and so a pumpkin got inside the jar and grew big, and they could not get it out again, for the jar was too narrow at the mouth. So one day the woman who owned the water-jar said to the owner of the pumpkin, “I say, I want my jar to take to the village. Go and take out your pumpkin.” The other woman went and tried to break it up inside the jar, saying, “Let me get it out in bits.” But the owner forbade her, saying, “Don’t do that.” So she said, “Well, shall I cook it inside the jar?” But she refused. “No, no, I won’t have you making my jar all grimy!” So the other said, “Well, take the pumpkin and the jar too.” But she refused again. “Not I! do you think I am hungry and want your pumpkin?” So there was a quarrel about it between these two women.
‘Now, what was the husband to do to make peace between his wives? He wanted to break the jar and throw away the pumpkin. But the wife who owned the jar said, “If you want to break my jar, let me go too. I shall go home and stay there and have nothing to do with you.” The husband said, “Woman, you are a bad lot.” She answered, “Am I really a bad lot? Yet I am only vexed about my jar, and want nothing else beside.”
‘Now, just see the husband’s clever trick. He feigned sickness, and in the evening pretended he was very ill indeed. Both his wives slept in the same house that night because their husband was seriously ill. And they tried to cook dainty dishes. “Let us see if we can cook for a sick man.” But he would not eat at all, enduring his hunger till the morning.
‘In the morning his mother arrived, and began to cry bitterly because her son was sick; and she asked, “My son, would you like us to cook you some food?” He said, “I want no other sort of food, but if there is a pumpkin I do want you to get it and buy salt and cook it, and I think I may eat it to-day.” Those two women were there on the spot, and one of them, the owner of the jar, took the head of the man and laid it in her lap, and the owner of the pumpkin took his feet and laid them in her lap. And the first, when she heard that the man wanted a pumpkin, said to the other woman, “Go at once and break the jar, and bring the pumpkin, and let us cook it, so that our husband may eat.” She ran and got the pumpkin, and cooked it, and gave it him to eat, and he got well of his sickness. And so the trouble ended.’
A Yao story tells how a man and his wife contrived, each in the absence of the other, to secure for themselves, in order to eat it alone (a flagrant breach of good manners), a leg of the partridge that was being cooked for the family. Both having retired to eat the morsel into the dark interior of the hut, they came into violent collision and broke their plates. ‘She said, “Eating a relish alone! I was only tasting it!” He said, “And I was tasting it too!” The man took goods and gave the woman, saying, “Do not bring disgrace on me!” The woman brewed beer and gave the man, and the matter ended.’
Something like this is the tale of ‘The Man with the Bran-Porridge.’ A man who had told his wife that he never ate bran-porridge went to the coast with a caravan, sold his ivory to advantage and had a red fez given him into the bargain. The party reached their home and were met with the usual rejoicings; and the man, wearing his new fez, sat down to wait while his wife prepared him a meal. This was, as usual, a long business; the woman first pounded the maize, then put the bran on a plate, and took the grain down to the stream to wash it before the second pounding. The husband, growing more and more hungry as he waited, forgot his scruples or his fastidiousness, took the bran, poured it into his fez, poured some water on it, stirred it up and began to eat it. While he was doing so he saw his wife coming, and put the fez half full of bran and water on his head to hide what he had been doing. His wife, however, was too quick for him and asked, ‘What is that on your head that you are hiding?’ He said, ‘Medicine that I prepared for the journey.’
Whether she believed this or not is not recorded, but in any case, the fib availed him little, for very soon the bran-porridge began to trickle down his face. He said, ‘Oh! my wife, hunger, hunger! Some hunger eats weeds of the field, some hunger eats what is bad. My wife, do not tell people that I was seen with bran-porridge on my head, and I will pay you with goods.’ So he paid her with goods. But she must have been provided with a dangerous weapon in the event of future quarrels.
The first of these stories makes mention of a separation. This, in fact, sometimes takes place—perhaps for some quite trivial cause. An unfaithful wife is divorced (or, if a slave, sold), and goes back to her uncle or other guardian. If a Yao woman’s children all die, her husband may leave her; among the Wankonde, public opinion is said to decree that it is best in such a case to kill himself. Sometimes a wife demands a divorce because her husband does not sew her calico properly (which may mean that she is going to be neglected for a younger rival), or the husband because the wife is lazy about hoeing.
‘When they separate, the wife takes away the few domestic utensils which she brought with her, none of which are used by the man.’ She does not return the cloth given her from time to time, because she is considered to have rendered an equivalent service by cooking his porridge. ‘In all separations, except for serious causes, the one party gives the other a token, which may be cloth, arrow-heads, beads, or such current money. The one that begins the strife and is the cause of the separation, pays the other.’ On the Lake, the ceremony of divorce is accomplished by the man breaking a reed before witnesses on both sides and declaring that he renounces his wife. The woman is not free till this is done.