Chapter Three.
The Queen of the Pool.
Kassim was a sturdy lad from the Basoko country, and a chum of Baruti. As yet he had never related to us a legend, though he loved to sit near the fire, and listen to the tales of the days of old. This silence on his part was at last remarked, and one night he was urged by all of us to speak, because it was unfair that those who frequented our open-air club should be always ready to receive amusement, and yet refuse to contribute their share to the entertainment. This kind of argument pushed home, brought him at last to admit that he owed the party a debt in kind, and he said:
Well, friends, each man according to his nature, though there are so many men in the world they differ from one another as much as stones, no two of which are exactly alike. Here is Baruti here, who never seems to tire of speech, while I find more pleasure in watching his lips move up and down, and his tongue pop out and in, than in using my own. I cannot remember any legend, that is the truth; but I know of something which is not fiction, that occurred in our country relating to Izoka—a woman originally of Umané, the big town above Basoko. Izoka, the Queen of the Pool, as we call her, is alive now, and should you ever pass by Umané again, you may ask any of the natives if my words are true, and you will find that they will certify to what I shall now tell you.
Izoka is the daughter of a chief of Umané whose name is Uyimba, and her mother is called Twekay. One of the young warriors called Koku lifted his eyes towards her, and as he had a house of his own which was empty, he thought Izoka ought to be the one to keep his hearth warm, and be his companion while he went fishing. The idea became fixed in his mind, and he applied to her father, and the dowry was demanded; and, though it was heavy, it was paid, to ease his longing after her.
Now, Izoka was in every way fit to be a chief’s wife. She was tall, slender, comely of person; her skin was like down to the touch, her kindly eyes brimmed over with pleasantness, her teeth were like white beads, and her ready laugh was such that all who heard it compared it to the sweet sounds of a flute which the perfect player loves to make before he begins a tune, and men’s moods became merry when she passed them in the village. Well, she became Koku’s wife, and she left her father’s house to live with her husband.
At first it seemed that they were born for one another. Though Koku was no mean fisherman, his wife excelled him in every way. Where one fish came into his net, ten entered into that of Izoka, and this great success brought him abundance. His canoe returned daily loaded with fish, and on reaching home they had as much work to clean and cure the fish as they could manage. Their daily catch would have supported quite a village of people from starving. They therefore disposed of their surplus stock by bartering it for slaves, and goats, and fowls, hoes, carved paddles, and swords; and in a short time Koku became the wealthiest among the chiefs of Umané, through the good fortune that attended Izoka in whatever she did.
Most men would have considered themselves highly favoured in having such fortunate wives, but it was not so with Koku. He became a changed man. Prosperity proved his bane. He went no more with Izoka to fish; he seldom visited the market in her company, nor the fields where the slaves were at work, planting manioc, or weeding the plantain rows, or clearing the jungle, as he used to do. He was now always seen with his long pipe, and boozing with wretched idlers on the plantain wine purchased with his wife’s industry; and when he came home it was to storm at his wife in such a manner that she could only bow to it in silence.