CHAPTER VIII
FAIRY TALES
All Africans are great story-tellers. At night round the fire, when darkness covers the land and the boys appetites are appeased, many are the tales told. Let me translate one or two for you.
The Story of Naling’ang’a
Long ago there lived a man named Naling’ang’a. He was a very foolish man, for he smoked bhang, and the fumes of this deadly weed had run off with all his wisdom. One day the chief of the village in which Naling’ang’a lived ordered all the people into his gardens to hoe for him, so that the maize might not “walk” with the grass—that it, might not be overgrown.
All the people obeyed the chief’s words and went early in the morning to the gardens, followed by the chief himself. But Naling’ang’a lingered on in the village to have a morning pipe of his favourite bhang. Afterwards, when all the people were already in the gardens hoeing away under the eye of the chief, Naling’ang’a came on alone. On his way he crossed over a stream and arrived at the plain near which were the chief’s gardens.
Lying on the side of the path was an old skull that had been there for many a day, and which Naling’ang’a had often passed. But to-day, because he had been smoking bhang, he was annoyed at it, and took the handle of his hoe and struck the skull, saying, “Tell me, what killed you?” To his horror the skull moved, and said, “My tongue killed me.”
Poor Naling’ang’a was dreadfully afraid, and his knees shook under him hearing this dead thing speak so. But he plucked up courage and struck it again to see if it was really true, and again the skull spoke the same words. Being unable to stand it any longer, for his courage at this second exhibition had deserted him, he turned and fled as fast as his tottering legs could carry him to where the people were digging in the chief’s gardens, and lost no time in telling his story.
At first the people refused to believe him, but because of his earnestness and his frightened condition the chief ordered all the people to stop hoeing, and follow him back to the plain where he, the chief, would himself see this wonderful thing. Arrived at the spot the people stood round about in a frightened circle with Naling’ang’a and the chief in the centre. Naling’ang’a was brave now because of the crowd of people and, lifting his hoe, struck the poor skull a violent blow, saying, “Tell me, what killed you?” But the skull answered not a word. Again and again he struck it and demanded it to tell, but never a word spoke it.