West African Folk-Tales

by Unknown

Throughout the Gold Coast Colony and Southern [[17]]Ashanti the stories as given by the various tribes are essentially the same. It may be that further and more detailed investigation in the domain of folk-lore will help to solve a very important ethnic problem, namely, whether the coast tribes are or are not of the same stock as those of the hinterland. It is generally accepted at present that “these people of the West Coast were for the most part the broken fragments of races that have been driven to the sea by the stronger races of the interior.”[3] If this were so, then one would expect to find differences in the folk-lore of the stronger and weaker races similar to those between the folk-lore of the Celts and Anglo-Saxons. Actually, this does not appear to be so, though at present the data is not sufficient to enable one to form a definite opinion.

The following is from a recent work on the Gold Coast, and presents a slightly different view from that in the quotation above: “The general sum of these traditions [regarding the origin of the tribes] is that the Fantis, Ashantis, Wassaws, and in fact all the Twi-[Tshi] speaking, or Akan, peoples, were originally one tribe. They were a pastoral race and [[18]]inhabited the open country beyond the forest belt and farther north than Salaga. A northern and lighter-skinned people, which is commonly supposed to have been the Fulanis, commenced to encroach on their territory, and, being stronger than they, seized their cattle and young women and made many of the others slaves.… The subdivision of the united Akan race into its main branches, the Fantis and Ashantis, is variously accounted for.… One story very plausibly explains that the constant raids of their northern enemy, who burned all the farms, reduced the Akans to great straits for food. Some of them subsisted on a wild plant named fan and others on a plant named shan, and thus gained the names Fan-dti and Shan-dti (dti, to eat).”[4] A possible alternative explanation is that the same stock occupies the coast and the hinterland, and that differentiation has come about as the result of malaria affecting that portion of the race inhabiting the region of the lagoon marshes along the coastal plain. It has now been fairly well established that malaria can and does have a deleterious effect on races, and [[19]]that even in the case of Greece and Rome the malarial factor must be taken into account in discussing the causes which brought about their fall.[5] It may be that the marshes round Salonica and the swamps of the Campagna have their counterpart in the long line of lagoon swamps that lie between the surf-wall and the forest wall of ‘the Coast.’ Medical science alone, perhaps, will be able to solve the problem, but folk-lore can and does render valuable assistance toward a solution. A conquered people do not give up their ‘lore’ with the land, but carry their customs and traditions with them to their new homes.

There is one story which has a special interest in this connexion because, after being carried by the negroes from Africa to the Southern States in the slave days, it became the basis of a story which has served to amuse the children and adults of the whole of the English-speaking peoples, namely, The Wonderful Adventures of Old Brer Rabbit. It is interesting to compare the tar-baby narrative with the manner in which Anansi was caught in Story X.

From the scanty material we have at present, it would seem that the folk-lores of the coastal and [[20]]hinterland peoples are substantially the same, the differences being traceable in many cases to the influence of the new environment. Thus, in the story where Anansi seeks to hide the wisdom of the world (Story II), which he has collected in a pot, among the coast peoples he finds a difficulty in climbing up the palm-tree, but among the forest tribes his difficulty is to get over the trunk of a tree which has fallen across the bush-path. Here the difference is due to environment and not to race.

It is necessary to point out that similarity of story cannot by itself be taken as indicative of similarity of race. Indeed, so common is it to find the same story told by people of varying types and in every stage of progress that it has opened up a problem of great importance. Have such stories originated from a common source? and, if so, where may the common origin be found? Or are folk-stories like the material productions of the races, i.e. do they follow a more or less common line of development?[6] What connexion can there be, for example, [[21]]between the negro of the Gold Coast and the Serb? Yet they have a story remarkably similar. In the story of Ohia (Story XIX) the power of understanding the language of animals was given him on condition that he should not disclose the secret to any human being under pain of death. This knowledge often gave him occasion for laughter, and at such times his wife, ignorant of the cause, became angered and suspicious. She demanded to know the reason for such outbursts, and at last her importunity resulted in the telling of the secret, and consequent death of the man. In the Serbian story[7] the dénouement is somewhat different, comedy taking the place of tragedy. The man when just about to yield his life to satisfy the curiosity of his wife listens to the cock, who declares that he can manage to keep his hundred wives in order by giving them a good peck when they need it. The man accordingly leaves his coffin and brings his wife to reason and her knees by a well-administered chastisement. How came these two peoples to have a story with so many features in common? Is it possible [[22]]that the Turk and the Moor may have provided links?

It may not be out of place here to mention the effect of the contact of the slave-trading Europeans on the folk-lore of the Coast negroes. The grim white castles every few miles along the whole of the Guinea Coast stand as stern reminders of the time when the helpless coastal tribes were raided and men, women, and children sold into slavery. But one who has conversed with the native of to-day cannot doubt that the greatest effect of those terrible days is discernible in the native mentality itself. It has, as one might expect, influenced more or less the folk-story. Here, for example, is one type of influence:

“When the Portuguese first landed, the natives betook themselves to the forest. When the white man had put off again the natives crept cautiously back to the beach. To their great surprise they found there a basin full of rum. One of them, by name Mbura, tasted some, and finding that it was sweet, drank as much as he could and became intoxicated. Others did the same, and when many of them were helpless the boatmen returned and carried [[23]]them off. On account of the rum being tasted by Mbura, we call rum in Fantee Mbura-nsa—i.e. Mbura’s wine.”[8]

Even more remarkable is the origin of the god Nyankupon, who figures largely in both mythology and folk-lore. Many stories introduce Nyankupon, and yet he is no native god at all.

“After an intercourse of some years with Europeans, the Tshi-speaking inhabitants of the towns and villages in the vicinity of the various forts added to their system of polytheism a new deity whom they termed Nana-Nyankupon—sometimes called simply Nyankupon. This was the god of the Christians, borrowed from them and adopted under a new designation. The great superiority manifested by the whites in their weapons, ships, manufactures—in short, in everything—convinced the natives with whom they had intercourse that they must necessarily be protected by a deity of greater power than any of those to which they themselves offered sacrifice, since their own deities had not, except very remotely, helped them to attain any such prosperity. They therefore gladly enrolled themselves amongst the [[24]]followers of the god of the whites, and being informed that he dwelt in the heavens above, they denominated him Nana-Nyankupon, which may be freely translated ‘Lord of the Sky.’ ”[9]

The Gold Coast folk-stories are readily divisible into two groups, Anansi and non-Anansi tales. Anánsi is the spider, and with him is generally associated his son, Kweku Tsin (Tsĩ). Why so many spider stories? No satisfactory explanation can as yet be given. It cannot be due entirely to the superabundance of spiders in native dwellings and surroundings, for other tribes along the Coast seem to concentrate on other creatures, as the elephant and the tortoise. Nor does there seem to be sufficient evidence to trace the origin to totemism. No doubt many of the Anansi stories as told to-day are due to observation of the ways and peculiar characteristics of the spider, and are an attempt to explain the why and the wherefore. And generally it is decided that he is a wise, cunning, deceitful creature who scampers off to hide in the ceiling because he has done something to be ashamed of and has, unfortunately, been [[25]]found out. Here are two comments from folk-stories on Anansi: