Mpérekezéni, nde, nde, nde,
Kúli amái, nde, nde, nde,
Chínguli chánga, nde, nde, nde.”
That is, “My top! take her home to her mother!”
‘It flew up and flew away over the Bush, and the hyenas followed; but he repeated the same song again, and they flew on till they were just above their mother’s village. Then he sang again, Chínguli chánga (and so on, as above), and the people heard it in the air over their heads, and looked up, and saw them; and the chinguli came to a stop, and let them down right on top of the grain-mortar. And then the brother said, “My sister wanted to send me back because I had sore eyes; but they would have eaten her at that village, and I have brought her home.”’ In another version, the mother follows this up with some more good advice, pointing out what she owes to her brother, and warning her ‘never to do it again.’
A favourite Yao story is that of the python (Sato) who was befriended by a man when caught in a bush-fire. He appealed first to a passing herd of buck to stop and save him, but they, considering that he had just eaten one of their number, not unnaturally refused. Then a man passed by with a hoe in his hand, and, on being assured that the python would not devour him, hoed up a piece of ground all round him, and thus saved him from the fire. The grateful python told him to come back in four days’ time, which he did, and found that it had changed into a young lad, who took him home, entertained him with plenty of beer, and finally presented him with two pieces (1 piece = 16 yards) of calico and a magic bottle, which was to be opened in presence of his enemies.
When the man went home, he found there was war; his family had fled, and the enemy were occupying the village. He opened his bottle, and they were immediately annihilated. He then went to hoe in the gardens, leaving his bottle and other property in his hut. Another detachment of the enemy arrived—they took possession of the village and all that was in it, pursued him to his garden, and took him prisoner. He was tied up, with his neck in a gori-stick, with a view to being killed next day. During the night he felt a rat gnawing his feet, and asked it to go to the chief’s house and bring the bottle. The rat did so, and the man said, ‘I will pay you in the morning.’ When the people were all assembled, and the man was brought out into the bwalo to be killed, he opened his bottle. ‘The people who sat there when he held it up were dead and gone’—there was no one there! So he rewarded the rat with two cows.
Animal stories sometimes vary in having one or more of their characters replaced by human beings: thus there is one in which the Antelope sets a trap and catches a Leopard in it. He spares the Leopard’s life, but meets with no gratitude, for the latter eats all his children, and then his wife. He appeals for help to a number of animals in succession, without getting it, till the Hare takes the case in hand, and induces the Leopard to put his head once more into the trap, and show how he was caught. Once in, the Hare advises the Antelope to kill him. Now the same story is told to explain why there should be a standing feud between crocodiles and men. The Crocodile behaved very much in the same way as the Leopard, and finally jumped on the man’s back and made him carry him. The Hare intervened, heard the whole story, and then asked the Crocodile to show him how he got into the trap, with results as above.
The Yao tale of the Hyena and the Bees is a version, with animal actors, of a story which, in various shapes, is probably found throughout the whole of Bantu Africa. The Basuto tell it of a girl called Tselane, who was carried off by a cannibal. He put her into a bag, which he threw over his shoulder, and started for home. On the way he stopped at a hut, which turned out to be her uncle’s, and laid down his sack while he went in to rest. Tselane’s relatives discovered her plight, let her out, and put in a dog and a quantity of venomous ants in her place. Consequently the cannibal, when he had shut himself up in his hut to enjoy his feast alone, died a miserable death. In the Yao story, the Hyena steals the fox’s (or jackal’s) cubs, and puts them into a bag; but the mother contrives to substitute a swarm of bees for them before he carries them off. ‘So the Hyena and his brethren died.’