THERE WAS ONCE an old woman who had no husband, and she lived for many days in trouble. One day she said to herself, “Why do I always feel so troubled? It is because I have neither children nor husband. I shall go to the medicine-man and get some children.

She went to the medicine-man and told him she was unhappy owing to the fact that although she had now grown old, she had neither husband nor children. The medicine-man asked her which she wanted, husband or children, and she told him she wanted children.

She was instructed to take some cooking pots – three, or as many as she could carry – and to search for a fruit-bearing sycamore tree, to fill the pots with the fruit, to put them in her hut, and to go for a walk.

The old woman followed these instructions carefully. She gathered the fruit, filled the pots, placed them in her hut, and went for a walk until the evening.

On arriving near the kraal, she heard the sound of voices and asked herself, “Why does one hear the voices of children in the kraal?” She went nearer, and found her hut filled with children, all her work finished, the boys herding the cattle, the hut swept, by the girls, the warriors singing and dancing on the common, and the little children waiting to greet her. She thus became a rich old woman, and lived happily with her children for many days.

One day, however, she scolded the children, and reproached them for being children of the tree. They remained silent and did not speak to her; then, while she went to visit her friends in the other kraals, the children returned to the sycamore tree, and became fruit again. On her return to her own kraal, the old woman wept bitterly when she found it empty, and paid another visit to the medicine-man, whom she taxed with having spirited away her children.

The medicine-man told her that he did not know what she should do now, and when she proposed to go and look at the sycamore tree, he recommended her to try.

She took her cooking pots to the sycamore tree and climbed up into it. But when she reached the fruit they all put forth eyes and stared at her. This so startled her that she was unable to descend, and her friends had to come and help her down.

She did not go to the sycamore tree again to search for the children.

[ MASAI ]

ONCE UPON A TIME there were a brother and sister who lived together. The mother had died leaving many goats, and the brother looked after the goats in the daytime, but in the evening he went away from home, for he was very handsome, and had many friends. The name of the girl was Nasere, the name of the brother Tunka Menin.

Now one day when the brother returned Nasere said to him, “Two men were here yesterday, and if you go away and leave me they will carry me off.” But he replied, “You talk nonsense.” She insisted, “I am speaking the truth. Now when they take me I will bear with me a gourd full of sap which is like fat, and I will let it drop along the path so that you can follow my trail.” That night when Tunka Menin brought the goats home, Nasere made a great feast and gruel, but again he went away. When Tunka Menin came back the next morning he found the homestead empty, for his sister had been carried away as she had said. However, he saw the track where drop by drop she had let fall the sap which was like fat. And Tunk Menin followed over hill and down dale, and ever and again he heard her voice crying from. the opposite hillside, “Follow after where you see the trail.”

The following day the sap began to take root and to spring up into little plants, but he did not see his sister. At last, he returned to his home to herd the flock. He took them out to feed, but he had no one to prepare food for him when he returned home at night, and if he himself prepared the food there was no one to care for the flocks. So he slew a goat and ate it and, when it was finished, he slew yet another, and so on till all the goats were finished. Then he killed and ate the oxen one by one. They lasted him months and years for the flock was large but, at last they were all gone, and then he bethought him of his sister.

Now the plants which marked the way she had gone were, by this time, grown to trees, and so he journeyed on for one month and half a month and at the end of that time he came to a stream and by the stream were two children getting water. Then he said to the younger, “Give me some water in your gourd,” but the child refused. The elder child spoke to the younger and said, “Give the stranger to drink, for our mother said if ever you see a stranger coming by way of the trees he is my brother!” So he and the children went up to the homestead, and he waited outside, and Nasere came out, and he knew her at once. However, she did not know him, for he was not dressed as before with ochre and fat. He came into her hut and she gave him food, not in a good vessel, but in a potsherd. Then he slept in the hut, but on the floor, not in the bed.

Now the next day he went out with the children to drive away the birds from the crops and as he threw a stone he would say, “Fly away, little bird, as Nasere flew away and never came back any more.” Soon another bird would come and he would throw another stone and say the same words again. This happened the next day and the next for a whole month.

The children heard this, and so did others, and they said, “Why does he utter the name Nasere?” So they went and told their mother. At last she came and waited among the grass and listened to his words, and said, “Surely this is my brother Tunka Menin, and she went back to the house and sent for a young man and told him to go and fetch Tunka Menin to come to her, for she said, “He is my brother.” And the young man went and told Tunka Menin the words of his sister, and she has given me no cup for my food but a potsherd,” and he would not go in. Then the young man returned to Nasere and told her the words of her brother, and she said, “Take ten goats and go again and bid him to come to me.” So the young man took ten goats and said, “Your sister has sent these ten goats.” But again Tunka Menin refused, and the young man returned. So Nasere said, “Take ten oxen and give them to my brother.” However, Tunka Menin owuld not come. Nasere then sent him ten cows, and another ten cows, but still Tunka Menin refused to come in. Nasere thereupon told her husband how she had found her brother and how he would not be reconciled to her, and her husband said, “Send him still more animals,” so Nasere sent ten other cows and again ten more, till Tunka Menin had received forty cows besides the goats and the oxen which Nasere had sent at the first. And the heart of Tunka Menin relented, and he came into the house of his sister. And she killed a goat, and took the fat and dressed his hair and his shoulders, for she said, “I did not know you, for you were not adorned as before.

After Tunka Menin had been reconciled to his sister, he asked that eight wives should be given him. So the husband of Nasere sent to all his relations round about, and they brought in goats, and Tunka Menin bought eight girls, some for thirty goats, some for forty. Other relations all came and built eight huts for the wives near to the dwelling of Nasere, so Tunka Menin and his wives dwelt near the homestead of his sister.

[ AKIKUYU ]

THERE ONCE LIVED a man named Battuda, the weed smoker. One year there was s serve drought, and the weed did not grow. He said to his children, “What am I to do? I have no weed.”

They answered, “If you wish it, send us that we may search for some.”

Thereupon he sent the eight sons and three daughters, and said, If you secure weed, leave the girls with the man from whom you got it.”

They walked for a long time, nearly two months, but they did not find weed. They said to each other, “As we have not found that which we seek, it is best that we return.”

On their return they met two men, wanderers, who asked them what they sought. “We seek weed. We were sent by our father who is in great need of it, and we fear he will be dead by now.”

The wanderers replied, “Very well. Come with us, and we will take you to a man who has lots of it.”

Thus they travelled together, and when they arrived at one man’s village they met his son, who asked, “What do you seek?”

They replied, “Weed.”

“Only weed?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed,” they replied.

“If it should be offered to you, what would you give for it?” he asked further.

They answered, “Father said to us if you find a man with weed, leave all the girls with him.”

The man who owned the weed, and who was also named Battuda, rejoiced when he heard this and killed a goat for them. The next morning he filled eight bags with weed and gave them to Battuda’s sons. He also sent his four sons and two daughters, and said to his sons, “When you come to the man who desires the weed and find that his village is a pleasant place, leave the two girls with him.”

When Battuda’s eight sons returned with the weed, he rejoiced and praised them for what they had done and killed a goat for them. They said, “The man from whom we got the weed has also sent his four sons and tow daughters to see your abode and whether it is a pleasant place.”

He replied, “It is well.”

The next morning the four sons returned to their home and left their two sisters ar Battuda’s village.

The two families thereafter became friends and visited each other.

Some time later, Battuda said, “I am old. Take me to my friend that I may see before I die.” To this his children agreed. They went ahead, and he followed, until they arrived at Battuda’s village.

When Battuda heard the greetings and clapping of hands, he asked, “Whom is it you greet?”

One of his sons said, “It is the father of the girls who were left here – he who sought weed.”

He answered, “I am ashamed to meet him, as I married his daughters before I met him. Go and tell him that his friend Battuda is ill.” The sons went and told the man as they were desired to do by their father.

Thereupon the eldest son of the other said, “My father is also ill. I brought him, as he wished to see his friend who supplied him with weed. You say he is ill, therefore both are ill.”

The son of the other replied, “It is as you say. Enter the hut. We shall see tomorrow.”

They prepared food and, when they were about to take it to the visitors, there suddenly arose shouting and wailing, and the people of the village cried out, “Father is dead.”

Thereupon the visitors also set up a wailing and shouting, crying, “Father is dead. He died at the village which was not his home.”

Then all the people said, “We shall see tomorrow when we bury them.”

The next morning the people of the village said to the visitors, “it is daybreak. Go and choose a spot where you may bury your father; we shall do likewise for our father.”

But the sons of him whoo came on the visit replied, “Speak not thus. Let them be buried together, because they had become friends.”

Those of the village answered, “Have people ever been buried together?”

The visitors said, “You say people are not buried together. Have you known of a case where one man went to visit his friend and it was said, ‘He is dead,’ and that the other also died, thus both dying at the same time? Where did you ever see this?”

Thereupon they agreed to bury the bodies together.

They dug a deep grave for the two and carried the bodies thither. First they lowered into the grave the body of the man of the village and then that of the visitor. They then called out, “Bring stones that we may fill up the grave.”

When they were about to throw in the stones, the man who was lowered first called out, “I am not dead, take me out, and do not cover me with stones.” Then the body of the visitor said, “I am on top, I want to get out first.”

Thus both came out.

They went and killed a goat of which all ate. Then the old men called their sons together and said to them, “We wish to instruct you, our children. Do not do this: do not marry a girl before you ask her in marriage of her father.”

Then the old man of the village, whose name was Battuda, said to his sons, “I thought I would be clever. I did not wish to see the man whose daughters I had married without telling him. Therefore I said I was sick, hoping he would go home.”

Thus the custom arose that when a man desires to marry, he first informs the girl’s father of what he desires to do, for at the beginning this was not done.

[ MASHONA ]

A GIRL, it is said, once went to seek for onions. As she arrived at the place where they grew, she met several men, on of whom was half-blind, having only one eye. As she dug, the men helped her, digging also. When her sack was full, the men said to her, “Go, tell the other girls, that many of you may come.” So she went home and told her companions, and early the next morning they started. But a little girl followed them. The other girls said, “Let the little girl go back.”

Her elder sister protested, saying, “She runs by herself; you need not out her into your awa skin.”

So they all went on together and, having reached the onion field, began to dig. Now the little girl saw traces of feet, and she said to the one who had guided them thither, “Wonderful! Whence so many traces? Were you not alone here?”

The other replied, “I walked about and looked around; therefore there must be many of my foot prints.”

The child, however, did not believe that if the other girl had been alone the traces could be many, and she felt uneasy, for she was a wise little woman. From time to time she rose from her work and peeped about and once, while doing this found by chance an anteater’s hole.

Still further spying about, she perceived some men, but they did not see her. She then returned and continued digging with the other girls, without, however, saying anything; but in the midst of the work, she always rose and looked about her.

So the others asked her, “Why do you always spy about you and leave off digging? What a girl!” But she continued her work in silence. When she rose from it again, she saw the men approaching. As they drew near, the one-eyed man blew through a reed pipe the following:

“Today blood shall flow, blood flow, blood flow!”

The little girl understood what was blown on the reed. She said to the elder ones, while they were dancing, “Do you understand the tune that is blown on the reed?”

But they only said, “What a child she is!”

So she mixed in the dance with the others, but managed while so doing to tie her sister’s kaross to her own. In this manner they danced until the merriment became very noisy. Then the two sisters found an opportunity to slip away.

On their way out the little sister asked, “Do you understand the reed – I mean what is blown on it?”

The elder one answered, “No, I do not understand it.”

Then the little girl explained to her that the tune on the reed said, “Today blood shall flow!”

While they walked along, the little girl let her elder sister go first and she herself followed, walking backwards and carefully stepping in her sister’s marks, so that thus they left only one set of footprints, and these going in a contrary direction. In this manner they arrived at the anteater’s hole.

The men killed all those girls who had remained dancing with them. When the elder of the two who had escaped heard their wailing, she said, “Alas, my sister!”

But the younger one answered hr, “Do you think you would have lived if you had remained there?”

Now the one-eyed man was the first to miss the sisters, and he said to the other men, “Where may the two handsome girls be who danced with me?”

The others replied, “He lies. He has seen only with his single eye.” But the one-eyed man insisted that two girls were truly missing.

Then they went to find their tracks, but the footmarks had been rendered indistinct enough to puzzle them.

However, the men finally arrived at the anteater’s hole. They could not see that the foot marks went farther, and they peered into the hole but saw nothing. Then the one-eyed man looked also, and he saw the girls and cried, “There they sit!”

The others now looked again, but still saw nothing, for the girls had covered themselves with cobwebs.

One of the men then took an spear and, piercing through the upper part of the hole, hit the heel of the older girl. The wise little woman took hold of the spear, however, and wiped off the blood. The elder sister was about to cry, but the little one warned her not to make a sound.

When the one-eyed one spied again the little girl made big eyes at him. He said, “There she sits.”

The others looked too, but as they could see nothing they said, “He has only seen with his one eye.”

At last the men became thirsty and said to the one-eyed one, “Stay you here and let us go to drink, and when we have returned you may go also.”

When the one-eyed man was left alone there, the little girl said, conjuring him:

“You dirty son if your father,

Are you there? Are you alone not thirsty?

Oh, you dirty child of your father!

Dirty son of your father!”

“I am indeed thirsty,” said the one-eyed one and went away.

Then the two girls came out of the hole, and the younger one took her elder sister on her back and walked on. As they were going over the bare, treeless plain, the men saw them and said, “There they are, far off,” and ran after them.

When they came near, the two girls turned themselves into thorn trees, called “Wait-a-bit,” and the beads which they wore became gum on the trees. The men then ate of the gum and fell asleep. While they slept, the girls smeared gum over the men’s eyes and went away, leaving them lying in the sun.

The girls were already near their kraal, when the one-eyed man awoke and said, “Oh, the disgrace! Fie on thee!”

“Our eyes are smeared over; fie on thee, my brother!” said the others.

Then they removed the gum from their eyes, and hunted for the girls, but the two sisters reached home in safety and told their parents what had happened.

Then all the people lamented greatly, but they remained quietly at home and did not search for the other girls.

[ HOTTENTOT ]

MANY YEARS AGO There was a Calabar hunter named Effiong who lived in the bush. He killed plenty of animals and made much money. Every one in the country knew him, and one of his best friends was a man called Okun, who lived near him.

Effiong was very extravagant and spent much money in eating and drinking with everyone until at last he became quite poor, and he had to go out hunting again. But now his good luck seemed to have deserted him, for although he worked hard and hunted day and night, he could not succeed in killing anything.

One day, as he was very hungry, he went to his friend Okun and borrowed two hundred rods from him. He told him to come to his house on a certain day to get his money, and he told him to bring his gun, loaded, with him.

Now sometimes before this, Effiong had made friends with a leopard and a bush cat whom he had met in the forest while on one of his hunting expeditions; and he had also made friends with a goat and a rooster at a farm where he had stayed for the night. But, though Effiong had borrowed the money from Okun, he could not think how he was to repay it on the day he had promised. At last, however, he thought of a plan. The next day he went to his friend the leopard and asked him to lend him tow hundred rods, promising to return the amount to him on the same day as he had promised to pay Okun. He also told the leopard that, if he were absent when he came for his money, he could kill anything he saw in the house and eat it. The leopard was then to wait until the hunter arrived, when he would pay him the money. To this the leopard agreed.

The hunter then went to his friend the goat and borrowed two hundred rods from him in the same way. Effiong also went to his friends the bush cat and the rooster and borrowed two hundred rods from each of them on the same conditions, and told each one of them that if he were absent when they arrived, they could kill and eat anything they found about the place.

When the appointed day and left the house deserted. Very early in the morning, soon after he had begun to crow, the rooster remembered what the hunter had told him and he walked over to the hunter’s house but found no one there. On looking around, however, he saw corn on the ground and, being hungry, he commenced to eat.

About this time the bush cat also arrived, and not finding the hunter at home, he too looked about and very soon he espired the rooster who was busy picking up the grains of corn. So the bush cat went up very softly behind and pounced on the rooster and killed him at once, and begun to eat him.

By this time the goat had come for his money; but not finding his friend, he walked about until he came upon the bush cat who was intent upon his meal off the rooster that he did not notice the goat approaching; and the goat, being in rather a bad temper at not getting his money, at once charged at the bush cat and knocked him over, butting him with his horns. This the bush cat did not like at all, so as he was not big enough to fight the goat, he picked up the remains of the rooster and ran off with it to the bush; and so he lost money, as he did not await the arrival of the hunter. The goat was thus left master of the situation and started bleating. This noise attracted the attention of the leopard, who was on his way to receive payment from the hunter. As he got nearer, the smell of goat became very strong and, being hungry, for he had not eaten anything for some time, he approached the goat very carefully. Not seeing anyone, he stalked the goat and got nearer and nearer until he was within springing distance.

The goat, in the meantime, was quietly grazing, quite unsuspicious of any danger, as he was in the compound of his friend the hunter. Now and then he would say “Ba!” But most of the time he was busy eating the young grass and picking up the leaves which had fallen from a tree of which he was very fond. Suddenly the leopard sprang at the goat and, with one crunch at the neck, brought him down. The goat was dead almost at once, and the leopard started on his meal.

It was now about eight o’clock in the morning, and Okun, the hunter’s friend, having had his early morning meal, went out with his gun to receive payment of the two hundred rods he had lent to the hunter. When he got close to the house he heard a crunching sound. Being a hunter himself, he approached very cautiously and, looking over the fence, he saw the leopard only a few yards off busily engaged eating the goat. He took careful aim at the leopard and fired, whereupon the leopard rolled over dead.

The death of the leopard meant the four of the hunter’s creditors were now disposed of, as the bush cat had killed the rooster; the goat had driven the bush car away, who thus forfeited his claim; and in his turn the goat had been killed by the leopard, who had just been slain by Okun. This meant a saving of eight hundred rods of Effiong, but he was not content with this. As soon as he heard the report of the gun he ran out from where he had been hiding all the time and found the leopard lying dead with Okun standing over it. Then in very strong language Effiong began to upbraid Okun and asked him why he had killed his old friend the leopard. He said that nothing would satisfy him and that he would report the whole matter to the king, who would no doubt deal with Okun as he thought fit. When Effiong said this, Okun was frightened and begged him not to say anything more about the matter, as the king would be angry; but the hunter was obdurate and refused to listen to him. At last Okun said, “If you will allow the whole thing to drop and will say no more about it, I will make you a present of the two hundred rods you borrowed from me.” This was just what Effiong wanted; but still he did not give in at once. Eventually, however, he agreed and told Okun he might go and that he would bury the body of his friend the leopard.

Directly Okun had gone, instead of burying the body, Effiong dragged it inside the house and skinned it very carefully. The skin he put out to dry in the sun and covered it with wood ash, and the body he ate. When the skin was well cured, the hunter took it to a distant market where he sold it for much money.

And now, whenever a bush cat sees a rooster he always kills it and does so by right, as he takes the rooster in part payment of the two hundred rods which the hunter never paid him.

Moral: Never lend money to people, because if they cannot pay they will try to kill you or get rid of you in some way, either by poison or by setting bad jujus for you.

[ EFIK-IBIBIO ]

A young man of early race once ascended a hill in order to hunt. As he looked around for game, However, he became sleepy – so sleepy, in fact, that he decided to lie down. What had happened to him? He wondered, as he stretched himself out on the ground, near a water hole. Never before had he been thus overcome by sleep.

As he slept, a lion, exhausted by the noonday heat , came to the pool to quench its thirst. The lion espied the boy lying there asleep and seized him. Startled, the boy awoke and, realizing that he had indeed been seized by a lion, he decided that it would be best not to stir, lest the lion bite and kill him. So he waited to see what the lion would do, for it was clear that the animal thought he was dead.

The lion carried him to a zwart-storm tree. There it laid him in the tree, in the lower branches however, and in such fashion that his legs protruded. Apparently the lion thought he would continue to be thirsty if he consumes the boy’s body immediately and that it would be better first to go down to the pool and drink some more water.

Before leaving, the lion pressed the boy’s head firmly between the branches of the zwart-storm tree.

No sooner had the lion left than the boy moved his head ever so little. The lion noticed the movement, however, as he looked back, and was puzzled. How could the head move after it had been forced so firmly between the branches of the tree? Perhaps he had not fastened the boy securely enough.

Just then the boy fell over. So the lion returned and, once again, pushed the boy’s head into the middle of the branches of the zwart-tree. As he did so, tears came into the boy’s eyes and the lion licked them away.

The boy lay there in pain, for a stick was pressing into the hollow at the back of his head. He faced the lion steadily with closed eyes and turned his head just a little. To the lion it seemed again as if the boy had moved, and again he licked away the tears from the boy’s eyes. Puzzled, the lion trod once more upon the boy’s head and pressed it down in order to be certain that the head might have moved because the body had not been properly confined, and not from any other reason.

The boy, now fearing that the lion suspected that he was not dead, remained absolutely motionless, in spite of the fact that the stick was cruelly piercing his head.

The lion, finally satisfied that the body was now firmly and properly secured, moved a few steps away. Then he looked back. The boy opened his eyes ever so little and through his eyelashes watched what the lion was doing.

The lion then ascended the hill and was about to proceed down to the water on the other side.

The boy, on his part, turned his head gently, in order to see if the lion had really departed. But, as he did so, he saw the lion peering from behind the top of the hill. He had comeback to take one more look at the boy, for he had suspected that the boy might possibly be only feigning death. That is why he had reascended the hill to take one more look. Since, however, the boy still lay there immobile, the lion thought he might quickly run to the water hole, drink his fill, and return without delay to consume the body. The lion was hungry enough but also not a little thirsty.

All this time the boy lay there quietly watching to see the lion what the lion was going to do next. He saw its head and shoulders finally turn and disappear; but, before he made the slightest movement, he wanted to be absolutely certain that the lion had really gone and would not return to peer again over the hill. He knew that the lion is a thing of cunning and that the animal had been suspicious of the movement which his head had made.

The boy lay there a long time without moving, and only when he was positive that the lion had truly gone did he arise and spring forward to a different place. But he did this circumspectly, running in a zigzag direction, so that the lion could not smell him out and know where he had gone. That is why he ran this way and that and did not run straight toward his own house. He knew that when the lion returned and missed him, he would immediately seek for him, following this spoor.

As soon as the boy came to the top of the hill, he called out to his people that he had just been “lifted up” – while the sun had stood high, he had been “lifted up.” More he would not say. They went therefore to gather together all the many harte-beest skins they possessed so that they might roll him in them, for he had just been “lifted up,” while the sun had stood high. He wanted his people to do this, for he was certain that the lion, when it returned and missed him, would seek and track him out. It is the way of a lion, with anything it has killed, not to leave it until he has eaten it. So insistently the boy besought his people to get the harte-beest skins and the mats and roll him up in them.

The people thereupon did this for the young boy, for it was their hearts’ young boy who had made the request and they did not wish the lion to eat him. Accordingly, they hid well, in suck fashion as to prevent the lion from getting hold of him. Indeed, they loved this young boy greatly and they announced that they would cover him over with the huts’ sheltering bushes: all this they would do, to prevent the lion, when he arrived, from seizing their hearts’ young boy.

Everyone now went out to look for some kuisse and when they found some, they dug it up, took it hime, and baked it.

At just about this time, and old Bushman, who had gone out to get some wood for his wife so that she might make a fire with which to cook the kuisse, espied the lion as he came over the top of the hill at the exact place where the young boy had appeared. Immediately he told his house folk about it. Speaking, he said, “Do you see what it is that stands there yonder on the top of the hill, at the place where the young boy came over?”

Thereupon the young boy’s mother, looking, exclaimed, “Not on any account must you permit that lion to come into our huts! You must shoot it and kill is before it ever comes that far!”

So the people slung on their quivers and went to meet the lion. Again and again they shot at him, but he would not die.

Then another woman addressed the people, saying, “In what manner are you shooting at this lion that you cannot manage to kill him?”

Bout one of the older men replied, “Can you not see that this lion must be a sorcerer? It will not die despite our shooting at it, for it insists upon having the young boy that it carried off.”

The people now threw children for the lion to eat, but the lion merely looked at them and left them alone.

Again and again the people shot at the lion but all to no avail. The lion remained unharmed and kept looking for the young boy. After a while, some of the people said, “Bring is some assegais, so that we can spear it.” So they began spearing it while continued shooting. But, despite the shooting and the spearing, the lion remained unharmed and continued its search for the young boy, for the young boy whose tears it had licked. It wanted that boy, none other.

Coming upon the huts, it tore them asunder and broke them to pieces, seeking for the young boy. The people addressed one another in terror saying, “Do you not see that the lion will not eat the children we have thrown him? Can you not see that he must be a sorcerer?”

But some people answered, “Give the lion a girl. Perhaps it will eat her and then go away.”

The lion, however, did not touch the girl. It wanted the young boy it had carried off, none other.

Everyone was now completely bewildered, for no one knew in what manner to act toward the lion to persuade it to leave. It was late in the day and the people had been spearing and shooting at it since the morning; yet the lion remained unharmed and would not die. It kept walking about, searching for the young boy.

“We no longer know what to do to induce it to leave,” the people said.

‘We have offered children and a young girl but the lion has always refused them. It desires only the young boy it carried off.”

Finally, in desperation, some of the people said, “Tell the young boy’s mother what is happening. Tell her that, despite her great love for the young boy, she must take him and deliver him to the lion, even though he be the child of her heart. She herself must realize that the sun is about to set and the lion is still threatening us, that it will not depart. It insists upon having the young boy.”

The mother heard and answered, “Be it so. Give my child to the lion. In no wise, however, must you allow the lion to eat him, in no wise must you allow the lion to continue walking about here. You must kill him and lay him upon my child. Let the lion die upon my son.”

When the young boy’s mother had thus spoken, the people unwrapped the young boy from the harte-beest skins in which he had been rolled and gave him to the lion. The lion immediately seized him and bit him to death, but as he was thus biting him to death, the people shot and stabbed the lion.

Finally the lion spoke and said that he was ready to die, for now he had secured the boy he had all the time been seeking; he had got hold of him.

And so the lion died, and both the boy and the lion lay there dead, next to each other.

[ BUSHMEN ]

THERE ONCE LIVED a certain man called Akwasi-the-Jealous-One, and his wife was Aso. He did not want anyone to Aso or anyone to talk to her, so he went and built a small settlement for Aso to live in. No one ever went into that village.

Now he, Akwasi- the-Jealous-One, could not beget children. Because of that, if he and his wife lived in town, someone would take her away. Now the sky-god advised the young men, saying, “Akwasi-the-Jealous-One has been married to Aso for a very, very long time. She has not conceived by him and borne a child; therefore he who is able, let him go and take Aso and, should she conceive by him, let him take her as his wife.” All the young men tried their best to lay hands on her, but not one was able.

Now Kwaku Ananse, the spider, was there watching these events and he said, “I can go to Akasi-the-Jealous-One’s village.”

the sky-god said, “Can you really do so?”

Ananse said, “If you will give me what I require.”

The sky-god, “What kind of thing?” Ananse replied, “Medicine for gun and bullets.” And the sky-god gave them to him.

Then Ananse took the powder and bullets to various small villages, saying, “The sky-god has bade me bring powder and bullets to you, and you are to go and kill meat, and on the day I shall return here I shall take it and depart.” He distributed the powder and bullets to receive all the meat which they had killed. Father Ananse took the meat and palm-leaf basket, set them on his head, and set out on the path leading to Akwasi-the-Jealous-One’s settlement. When he reached the stream from which Akwasi and his wife drank, he picked out some meat and put it in the stream.

Ananse strode hard, carrying the palm-leaf basket full of meat, and passed through the main entrance leading into Akwasi-the-Jealous-One’s compound. Aso saw him. She said, “Akwasi-e! Come and look at something which is coming to the house here. What can it be?”

Anase said, “It is the sky-god who is sending me, and I am waery, and I am coming to sleep here.”

Akwasi-theJealous-One, “I have heard my lord’s servant.”

Aso said to Ananse, “Father man, some of your meat has fallen down at the main entrance to the compound.”

The spider said, “Oh, if you happen to have a dog, let him go and take it and chew it.” So Aso went and got it and gave it to her husband. Then Ananse said, “Mother, set some food on the fire for me.” Aso put some on, and Ananse said, “Mother, is it fufuo that you are cooking or etol?

Aso replied, “Futuo.”

Ananse said, “Then it is too little; go and fetch a big pot.”

Aso went and fetched a big one, and Ananse said, “Come and get meat.”

There were forty hindquarters of great beasts. He said, “Take only these and out them in the pot. If you had a pot big enough, I would give you enough meat to chew to make your teeth fall out.”

Aso finished preparing the food, turned it out of the pot, and placed it on a table, splashed water, and out it beside the rest of the food. Then Aso took her portion and went and set it down near the fire, and the men went and sat down beside the table. They touched the backs of each other’s hands and ate out of the same dish. All the time they were eating, Kwaku Ananse said, “There is no salt in this fufuo.“

Akwasi said too Aso, “Bring some.”

But Ananse said, “Not at all. When the woman is eating, you tell her to get up to bring salt. Do you yourself go and bring it.”

Akwasi arose from the table, and Ananse looked into his bag and took out a pinch of purgative medicine and put it in the fufuo. Then he called Akwasi, saying, “Come back for I have brought some with me.”

When Akwasi came Ananse said, “Oh, I shall eat no more; I am full.” Akwasi, who suspected nothing, continued eating.

When they had finished their meal, Akwasi said, “Friend, we and you are sitting here and yet we do not know your name.”

Ananse replied, “I am called ‘Rise-Up-and-Make-Love-to-Aso.'”

Akwasi said, “I have heard, and you, Aso, have you heard this man’s name?”

Aso replied, “Yes, I have heard.”

Akwasi rose up to go and prepare one of the spare bedrooms and to make everything comfortable. He said, “Rise-Up-and Make-Love-to-Aso, this is your room, go and sleep there.”

The spider said, “I am the soul-washer to the sky-god and I sleep in a open veranda-room. Since mother bore me and father begat me, I have never slept in a closed bedroom.”

Akwasi said, “Where, then, will you sleep?”

He replied, “Were I to sleep in this open veranda-room here, to do so would be to make you equal to the sky-god, for it would mean that I was sleeping in the sky-god’s open veranda room. Since I am never to sleep in anyone’s open room except the of a sky-god, and since that is so, I shall just lie down in front of this closed sleeping-room where you repose.”

The man took out a sleeping mat and laid it there for him. Akwasi and his wife went to rest, and Ananse, too, lay down there. Ananse lay there and he slipped in the crossbar of the bedroom door. Ananse lay there and took his musical bow and sang:

“Akuamoa Ananse, today we shall achieve something, today.

Anase, the child of N sia, the mother of N yame, the sky-god, today we shall achieve something, today.

Ananse, the soul-washer to N yame, the sky-god, today I shall see something.

Then he ceased playing his sepirewa, and he laid it aside and lay down. He had spelt for some time when he heard Akwasi-the-Jealous-One calling. “Father man!” Not a sound in reply except dinn! Akwasi-the Jealous-One was dying. The medicine had taken effect on him, but he called, “Father man!” Not a sound in reply except dinn! At last he said, “Rise-Up-and-Make-Love-to-Aso!”

The spider said, “M! M! M!”

Akwasi Siad, “Open the door for me.” Ananse opened the door, and Akwasi went out. And the spider rose up and went into the room there.

He said, “Aso, did you not hear what your husband said?”

She replied, “What did he say?”

Ananse replied, “He said I must rise up and make love to you.”

Aso said, “You don’t lie.”

And he did it for her, and he went and lay down.

That night Akwasi rose up nine times. The spider also went nine times to where Aso was. When things became visible next morning. Ananse went off.

It would be about two moons later when Aso’s belly became large. Akwasi questioned her saying, “Why has your belly got like this? Perhaps you are ill, for you know that I who live with you here am unable to beget children.” Aso replied, “You forget that man who came here whom you told to rise up and make love to Aso. Well, he took me and I have conceived by him.”

Akwasi-the-Jealous-One said, “Rise up, and let me take you to go and give you to him.” They went to the sky-god’s town and Akwasi went and told the sky-god what had happened, saying, “A subject of yours whom you sent slept at my house and took Aso, and she has conceived by him.”

The sky-god said, “All of my subjects care roofing the huts. Go and point out the one you mean.” They went off, and the spider was sitting on a ridge-pole.

Aso said, “There he is!” Then Ananse ran farther on.

And again Aso said, “There he is!” Then Ananse fell down from up there where he was sitting.

Now that day was Friday. Ananse said, “I, who wash the sky-god’s soul – you have taken your hand and pointed it at me, so that I have fallen down and got red earth on me.” Immediately the attendants seized hold of Akwasi-the-Jealous-One and made him sacrifice a sheep. When Akwasi-the-Jealous-One had finished sacrificing the sheep, he said to the sky-god, “Here is the woman; let Ananse take her.” So Ananse took Aso, but as for the infant, they killed it, cut it into pieces, and scattered them about.

That is how jealousy came among the tribe.

[ ASHANTI ]

An Elephant fell madly in love with a Zulu woman Cisse and married her. Cisse’s two brothers came to visit her secretly but, for fear of him, she told Elephant she wanted to fetch some wood and then went and hid the two brothers in the firewood.

Then she said, “Since I have married into the kraal, I beg you to tell me, has the one-without-hair-at-the-knees been slaughtered for me?” {That would be a fully grown ram.} The blind mother-in-law answered her, “Things that were not spoken about of old, these she now speaks of and the smell of a Cisse is present.” Thereupon the woman answered her mother-in-law, “Should I not anoint myself in the old way and sprinkle myself with incense?” And the mother-in-law said, “Hum, things are being said by my son’s sweetheart which she did not say of old.”

Just then, Elephant, who had been in the field, came home and behaved as though he had found out that the woman’s two brothers had come. He rubbed himself against the house. Then the wife said, “What I did not do of old, now I do. Which day did you slaughter for me the ram lying far back in the kraal, and when did I anoint myself and sprinkle myself with my incense? Thus the woman spoke to him. Thereupon the mother-in-law said to him, “Things which were not spoken about of old are spoken now; therefore grant her her desire.”

So the one-without-hair-at-the-knees was slaughtered. And the woman herself fried it. That night she asked her mother-in-law, “How do you breathe when you sleep the sleep of life, and how do you breathe when you sleep the sleep of death?” And the mother-in-law said, “Hum, this is an evening rich in conversation. When we sleep the sleep of death, we breathe sui sui, and when we sleep the sleep of life, we breathe choo awaba, choo awaba.”

Then the woman prepared all her things as well as herself, while the others just slept. When they snored heavily and slept the sui sui sleep, she rose and said to her brothers, “The people are sleeping the sleep of death, let us make ready!” So they rose and went out, and she uncovered the mat-house and took all the necessary things and said, “Any noice that is made means that someone wants me to die.” So all things were done in silence. Then with the two brothers, who stood ready to go, she went among the flock, leaving her husband just a cow, a sheep, and a goat. Then she instructed the cow, “Do not cry as though you were only one, if you do not desire my death.” She spoke to the sheep and the goat in a like manner. Then they moved on with all the flock behind them. Now, the animals that had been left behind, cried out and cried out noisily in the night, as though all of them were still there, and Elephant thought all of them were really there. When he arose at daybreak, he saw his wife had left with everything, so grabbed a stick and said to his mother, “If I fall, the earth will resound with a thud.” And he pursued them.

When his wife and her brothers saw him coming close, they turned aside bout could not penetrate a rock which barred the way. Thereupon the woman said, “We are people behind whom a big company of travelers is following, so, rock of my forefathers, spread out to both side for us!” And the rock parted and then, when all had gone through, closed again.

Elephant, too, soon arrived and said to the rock, “Rock of my forefathers, cleave yourself for me too!” Then it spread itself and then he had entered, closed again. There Elephant died. The earth resounded with a thud. His mother at home said, as it was predicted by my oldest son, so it has happened. The earth has just resounded with a thud.”

[ NAMA ]

Gulari once found some snakes fighting. As he came near and looked at them he saw that one snake had been killed. He reproved them. He said, “Go away.”

One snake gave him a charm, saying, “By means of this charm you will hear all things. When the rat talks, you will hear it. When the cow talks, you will hear it. You will hear everything that is said.” The man passed on. He came to the village.

At night Gulari’s wife Wadda locked the house so that there was no open place. All was quite dark. She and her husband Gulari lay down to sleep. A mosquito came to the door. It examined the house and found no way in. The mosquito exclaimed, “They have locked the house very tightly. How can one get in?”

The Gulari understood and laughed.

“What are you laughing about?” asked Wadda his wife.

“Nothing,” said Gulari.

Later, a rat came. He examined the door. He found it fast closed and left it. Then he tried the eaves of the house and got in. He searched everywhere. He wanted butter but he found none. He said, “Oh, where has that woman stored her butter?” Gulari laughed.

His wife Wadda asked him, What are you laughing at?”

He answered, “Nothing.”

In the morning Gulari went to his barn. He let the cattle out. When it was nearly milking time his wife Wadda came to milk. When she arrived the cow said, “Of course you come, but you will not milk me today. I shall withhold my milk. My calf will drink it afterward.” Gulari laughed.

Wadda asked him, “what are you laughing at?”

He answered, “Nothing.”

Wadda left the cow. She returned to the village. Then the calf sucked its mother.

The next day Wadda again came to milk. The cow again with held its milk. In the afternoon Wadda’s child was ill for want of milk. She brought it to the barn and she talked to Gulari. She said, “That calf will kill my daughter.”

The cow interrupted, “What! My daughter will kill your daughter?”

Gulari laughed.

Wadda asked him, “What are you laughing about?”

He answered, “Nothing.”

When it was nearly sunset his wife said, “I shall get a divorce.”

She called all the people. They came to her husband’s place. They seated themselves. They said to the wife:

“You Wadda and your husband Gulari talk. We will listen.”

Wadda talked. She said to the people, “When we lie down to sleep, my husband Gulari always laughs at me without any reason. When I ask him why he does it he hides the reason from me. That is why I object to him?”

Then they asked Gulari, “Why do you laugh at Wadda? Tell us.”

He answered, “Nothing.”

They said again, “Tell us.”

He answered, “Men, if I tell it, I will die.”

They said, “Tell it Gulari! Do not hide it.”

He replied, “Oh, men, I will not tell it. I will surely die if I do.””

They urged him. When he was worn out he told them. Gulari said to the people, “This is the reason why I laughed when we were lying down in the house. After a while at night the mosquito would talk. It would say, “Who is this woman that has locked up her house so tightly?’ Where can one get in?” That is why I laughed.”

Gulari died, as he had said. The people cried. Some of them dug a grave. As they were about to bury the body a certain snake hastened to the desolate spot. It wrapped itself around the body. It stuck its tail in the nose of the dead man Gulari. He sneezed. the people were amazed. Some of them said, “Is it his god?”

Others replied, “Why ask who it is?”

When Gulari stood up the snake left.

When Guklari had quite recovered he travelled through the desolate places. He found the snake under a tree. The snake said, “But why did you tell? Long ago when I gave you that charm I told you it would make you hear all things.”

Gulari replied, “They urged me, so I told them.”

The snake said, “Oh!”

Then the snake gave him another charm, saying, “You will hear the words of the birds which eat the corn, if another bird came near, the first one would say, “Bird! Do not come. We shall be seen. I am eating quietly. This is my place. Let us separate. The field is large.”

After a while another bird would reply, “What! I shall be found out?” A third would break in, “How will you get out? Perhaps they will find us.”

“Let him go.” cried one bird.

“I am not going,” said another. Gulari laughed there in the corn field.

Man always held that snake sacred as his god.

It is said that there was once a great town in a certain place which had many people living in it. They lived only upon grain. One year there was a great famine.

Now in that town there was a poor man, by the name Mbenque, and his wife. One day they went in their garden, and they continued digging the whole day long. In the evening, when the digging gangs returned home, they returned also. Then there came a bird which stood upon the house which was beside the garden, and it began to whistle and said:

“Mbenque’s cultivated ground, mix together.”

The ground did as the bird said. After that was done, the bird went away.

In the morning , when Mbenque and his wife went to the garden, they were in doubt, and said, “Is this really the place we were digging yesterday?”

They saw that it was the place by the people who were working on each side of them. The people began to laugh at them, and mocked them, and said, “It is because you are very lazy.”

They continued to dig again that day, and in the evening they went home with the others.

Then the bird came and did the same thing.

When they went back next morning, they found their ground altogether un-dug. Then they believed that they were bewitched by some of the others.

They continued digging that day again. But in the evening when the digging gangs returned, Mbenque said to his wife, “Go home, I will stay behind to watch and find the thing which undoes our work.”

Then he went and laid himself down by the head of the garden, under the same house on which the bird always perched. While he was thinking, the bird came. It was a very beautiful bird. He was looking at it and admiring it, when it began to speak.

It said, “Mbenque cultivated ground, mix together.”

Then he caught it, and said, “Ah! it is you who eats the work of our hands!”

He took out his knife from the sheath and was going to cut off the head of the bird.

Then the bird said, “Please don’t kill me andI will make some milk for you to drink.”

Mbenque answered, “You must bring back the work of my hands first.”

The bird said, “Mbenque’s cultivated ground, appear,” and it appeared.

Then Mbenque said, “Make the milk now,” and behold, it immediately made thick milk, which Mbenque began to drink. When he was satisfied, he took the bird home. As he approached his house, he put the bird in his bag.

After he entered his house, he said to his wife, “Wash all the largest beer pots which are in the house.”

But his wife was angry on account of her humger and she answered, “What have you to put in such large pots?”

Mbenque said to her, “Just listen to me, and do as I command you, then you will see.”

When she was ready with the pots, Mbenque took his bird out of his bag, and said, “Make milk for my children to drink.”

They commenced to drink, and when they were finished, Mbenque charged his children, saying, “Beware that you do not tell anybody of this, not even one of your companions.”

They swore to him that they would not tell anybody.

Mbenque and his family then lived upon this bird. The people were surprised when they saw him and his family. They said, “Why are the people at Mbenque’s house so fat? He is poor, but now since his garden has appeared he and his children are so fat!”

They tried to watch and to see what he was eating, but they never could find out at all.

One morning Mbenque and his wife went to work in their garden. About the middle of the same day the children of that town met together to play. They met just before Mbenque’s house. While they were playing the others said to Mbenque’s children, “Why are you so fat while we remain so thin?”

They answered, “Are wet hen fat?” We thought we were thin just as you are.”

They would not tell them the cause. The others continued to press them, and said, “We won’t tell anybody.”

Then the children of Mbenque said, “There is a bird in our father’s house which makes milk.”

The others said, “Please show us the bird.”

They went in to the house and took it out of the secret place where their father had placed it. They ordered it as their father did, to make milk, and it made milk, which their companions drank, for they were very hungry.

After drinking they said, “Let it dance for us,” and they loosened it from the place where it was tied.

The bird began to dance in the house, but one said, “This place is too confined,” so they took it outside the house. While they were enjoying themselves and laughing, the bird flew away, leaving them in great dismay.

Mbenque’s children said, “Our father will this day kill us, therefore we must go after the bird.”

So they followed it and continued going after it the whole day long, for when they were at a distance it would sit still for a long while and, when they aproached, it would fly away.

When the digging gangs returned from digging, the people of the town cried for their children, for they did not know what had become of them. But when Mbenque went into the house and could not find his bird, he knew where the children were, but he did not tell any of the other parents. He was very sorry about the bird, for he knew that he had lost his food.

When evening set in, the children wanted to return to their homes, but there came a storm of rain with heavy thunder, and they were very much afraid among them was a brave boy, named Sombwa, who encouraged them and said, “Do not be afraid. I can command a house to build itself.”

They said, “please command it.”

He said, “House appear!” and it appeared, and also wood for a fire. Then the children entered the house and made a large fire, and began to roast some wild roots which they dug out of the ground.

While they were roasting the roots and were merry, there came a big cannibal, and they heard his voice saying, “Sombwa, give me some of the wild roots you have.”

They were afraid, and the brave boy said to the girls and to the other boys, “Give me some of yours.”

They gave some to him, and he threw the roots outside. While the cannibal was still eating, they went out and fled. He finished eating the roots, and then pursued them. When he approached, the children scattered more roots upon the ground, and while the cannibal was picking them up and eating, they again fled.

At length they came among mountains, where trees were growing. The girls were already very tired, so they all climbed up into a tall tree. The cannibal came there and tried to cut the tree down with his long sharp fingernail.

Then the brave boy said to the girls, “while I am singing you must continue saying, “Tree be strong, Tree be strong!”

He sang this song:

“It is foolish,

It is foolish to be a traveller,

And to go on a journey

With the blood of girls upon one!

While we were roasting wild roots

A great darkness fell upon us.

It was not darkness,

I was awful gloom!”

While he was singing, there came a great bird which hovered over them, and said, “Hold fast to me.”

The children held fast to he bird and it flew away with them, and took them to their own town.

Was midnight when it arrived there, and it sat down at the gate of Sombwa’s mother’s house.

In the morning, when that woman came out of her house, she took ashes and cast them upon the bird, for she said, “This bird knows where our children are.”

At midday the bird sent word to the chief, saying, “Command all your people to spread mats in all the paths.”

The chief commanded them to do so. Then the bird brought all the children out, and the people were greatly delighted.

[ XOSA ]

HONEY-GUIDE and Capped Wheatear lived together in one place at first and ate out of one dish. Honey-Guide was the elder, Wheatear the younger. They set their minds on going to hunt for honey, and it happened when they arrived in the vicinity of the honey that Honey-Guide said, “Smile, Wheatear, when you see where the honey is.” Wheatear smiled, but he did not see the honey. When Honey-Guide smiled he had really seen it. That is what they did, and then they returned home leaving the honey behind, but Wheatear quietly disappeared and went off to steal the honey.

Next morning Honey-Guide said, “Let us go to our honey.” There they found a bit of bare honeycomb mangled and thrown about, so he asked Wheatear about it, and Wheatear replied, “My brother, I have seen neither it nor him who has stolen the honey. Since we came out yesterday nobody has come back here to demolish the honey in this way.” And once again Wheatear said to Honey-guide, “As for me, I could not eat any of this honey unless you had given it to me.”

So then Honey-Guide said no more, and they went out again looking for honey. Once more they found some honey. Honey-Guide say it before Wheatear did, and he tested Wheatear by saying, “Smile.” Wheatear said, “I cannot see the honey, smile yourself, my brother.” Honey-Guide: “No, child, smile.” So Wheatear smile and he saw the honey; then Honey-Guide asked him, “What do you see?”

Wheatear said, “It looks as if it might be flies fluttering before your eyes.”

Honey-guide said, “Haven’t you seen it?”

But Wheatear was deceiving him, for he saw the honey all the time. When Honey-Guide was about to smile, he saw the honey and said, “Let us cut down the tree to get it.”

Wheatear refused, saying, “No, as you said yesterday that I stole the honey, well, I am Wheatear! Let us bring some bird-lime and set a trap beside the honey, then if it be I who steal the honey you will catch me.”

“Good business,” replied Honey-Guide.

They went off to get some bird-lime from the human beings. Then when they arrived at their village, Honey-Guide said, “We will come tomorrow to set the trap.” But after a time Honey-Guide quietly disappeared and went off to set the bird-lime at the honey. Said Wheatear to himself, “Let me go quietly and eat the honey.” But the bird-lime was set already, although he did not notice it. When he thought of sitting down beside the honey, he sat on the bird-lime. Said he, “I will strike it with my wing,” but he stuck to it. And when he struck with his tail he stuck to it. When he wanted to draw back his right wing, it was stuck fast. He tried to strike it with his breast but he stuck. When he attempted to bite it with his beak, he bit the bird-lime. Then he simply died for lack of breath.

When Honey-Guide appeared on the scene, after he had looked for him at the village, he found him already dead. Then he mocked him, saying, “Wheatear, smile!” As he was dried up, he said that was the reward of thievery. “From today you will not steal any more. The chieftainship is mine over honey and to be extolled by the people! As for you, from today your portion shall be bird-lime already spread, and thus will you be killed by people.”

Now since they separated there on account of thievery, Wheatear belongs to bird-lime and Honey-Guide is still extolled. While he talked like this, Honey-Guide was standing upon the corpse of Wheatear. they became distinct in other directions, while their cry remained the same and, to this day, Wheatear’s portion is bird-lime and to be entrapped by men.

[ BAILA ]

In the olden Days all cattle, sheep, and goats lived in the forests. Then, one day, Tarikhes called all the animals before him at a place in the jungle, and he lighted a large fire there. And when the animals saw the fire they were frightened and fled away back into the forests. There remained only cattle, sheep, and goats who were not frightened. And Tarikhes was pleased with these animals and bless them, and he decreed the henceforth they should always live with man and woman who would eat their flesh and drink their milk.

[ SUK ]

Mr. Tortoise, who was married to Mrs. Tortoise, Had in Vulture a friend who was constant in visiting him. But, having no wings, Tortoise was unable to return the visits, and this upset him. One day he bethought himself of his cunning ands aid to his wife, “Wife!’

Mrs. Tortoise answered, “Hello, husband! What is it?”

Said he, “don’t you see, wife, that we are becoming despicable in Vulture’s eyes?”

“How despicable?”

“Despicable, because it is despicable for me not to visit Vulture. He is always coming here and I have never yet been to his house – and he is my friend.”

Mrs. Tortoise replied, “I don’t see how Vulture should think us despicable unless we could fly as he does and then did not pay him a visit.”

But Mr. Tortoise persisted: “Nevertheless, wife, it is despicable.”

Said his wife, “Very well, then, sprout some wings and fly and visit your friend Vulture.”

Mr. Tortoise answered, “No, I shan’t sprout any wings because I was not born that way.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Tortoise, “what will you do?”

“I shall find a way,” he replied.

“Find it then, ” said Mrs Tortoise, “and let us see what you will do.”

Later Tortoise said to his wife, “Come and tie me up in a parcel with a lump of tobacco and, when Vulture arrives, give it to him and say it is tobacco and, when Vulture arrives, give it to him and say that it is tobacco to buy grain for us.” So Mrs. Tortoise took some palm leaf and made him into a parcel and put him down in the corner.

At his usual time, Vulture came to pay his visit and said, “Where’s your husband gone, Mrs. Tortoise?”

“My husband has gone some distance to visit some people, and he left hunger here. We have not a bit of grain in the house.”

Vulture said, “you are in trouble indeed, not having grain in the house.”

Vulture said, “you are in such trouble as human beings never knew.” And she went on: “Vulture, at your place is there no grain to be bought?”

“Yes,” said he, “any amount, Mrs. Tortoise.”

She brought the bundle and said, “My husband left this lump of tobacco thinking you would buy some grain with it for us and bring it here.”

Vulture willingly took it returned to his home in the heights. As he was nearing his native town he was surprised to here a voice saying, “Untie me, I am your friend Tortoise. I said I would pay a visit to you.”

But Vulture, in his surprise, let go his hold of the bundle and down crashed Tortoise to the earth, Pididi-pididi, his shell smashed to bits, and he died. And so the friendship between Tortoise and culture was broken: and you can still see the cracks in Tortoise’s shell.

They say that once a great hunger came, and that Kwaku Ananse, the spider, said he would go and search for meat and vegetable food and bring it that his wife Aso might eat. He went into a certain stream and there he met certain people. Now these people whom he met, excuse my saying so, were spirits. When Ananse met the spirits, they were standing in the water and splashing the stream-bed dry to catch the fish. Kwaku Ananse said, “Brothers, may I come and splash a little too?”

The spirits said “Come.”

Ananse went, and he saw that they were using their skulls to splash the stream dry. The spirits said to Ananse, “You have seen that which we take to splash the stream dry. Will you allow us to remove your skull in order that you may splash too?” Ananse said, “I will permit you, take it off for me.”

Of a truth, the spirits removed it and gave it to him. Kwaku Ananse and the spirits joined together in splashing the bed of the stream dry. As they splashed, the spirits raised a song:

“We, the spider, when we splash the river-bed

dry to catch fish, we use our heads to splash the water.

O spirits, we are splashing the water.”

Since the Creator made things,

do we take our heads to splash the water?

O the spirits, we are splashing the water.

I take my head to splash the water dry today O,

O the spirits, we are splashing the water.”

Ananse finished singing, and the spirits told him, saying, “We have splashed, we have got fish, your share is a basketful. Take it and go and eat. Take your skull, join it on your body, and go off. But what we have to say most particularly is this – the very day you sing any of that song, your skull will open and fall off.”

The spider said, “Fish in abundance, which you have given to me, is all that I desire, and as for a song – for what reason should I sing it?”

The spirits said, “That is well, go off.”

So the spider set off. The spirits, too, got everything together and they, also, went away. When the spirits had reached yonder, as it were, then they raised their song:

“We, the spirits, when we splash the river-bed dry

to catch fish, we use our heads to splash the water.

O the spirits, we are splashing the water.”

And the spider heard the song and he, too, took it up:

“Since the Creator made things

Have we taken our heads to splash the water?

O the spirits, we are splashing the water.”

No sooner had he finished than his skull opened and dropped off. Ananse lifted it up and held it against his chest. He said, “spirits, spirits, my head has fallen off.”

The spirits heard, and they said “That’s the spider. He hasn’t listened to what we told him, and he is calling us. Let us all go back and hear him.”

Almost immediately, Spider came hastening along. He said, “Puo! Children of my father! My head has opened and fallen off, so I beg of you, if I have done you any harm, forgive it. You are in the right, but take my head and put it in its place for me.”

The spirits took it, and replaced it. They said to him, “Now, if you sing this song again and your head falls off again, we shall not answer when you call us. So get along with you!” The spirits set off again.

As they were going they sang their song. Then Ananse began to sing again, and his head became detached and fell off, kutukum! And he lifted it and, excuse my vulgarity, clapped it against his anus, and leaped to the side of the path. Sora! was the sound of the grass parting as he entered it. He said, “Path, save me! When the day dawns that I am rich, I shall give you some.”

That is why you will see Ananse with a small head and a very big bottom. It all comes from the hardness of his ears.

[ ASHANTI ]

They say that there once was a certain woman who was so unfortunate that whenever she gave birth to a child it died. So she set out to consult one of the lessor-gods about it and to tell him that she desired a child. The lesser-god said, “I shall give you one, but as for the child, all the work he will ever do will be to get you into debt, but nevertheless, some day he will repay you.”

It was not two days, it was not three days after consulting the lessor-god, when the woman conceived. She gave birth to a child – a spider-story child it was, for it was not long in growing up. The infant grew into a comely youth. One day he was with his mother and he said, “Mother, give me gold dust that I may go to the Edge-of-the-Sea-Country and buy salt.”

The mother said, “How much do you want?”

He said, “An asuanu.” And the mother took it and gave to him, and he set out on the journey.

Now, as he was going, he met a certain man and his spotted dog. He said, “bring it that I may buy it.”

The dog’s master said, “You cannot buy it.”

The youth said, “How much is it?”

The dog’s master replied, “An asuanu’s weight of gold dust.”

The youth said, “What’s that to me! Take this asuanu.” He received the dog and brought it back home.

When he returned, his mother said, “Why did you not reach your destination?”

He replied, “I used the gold dust to buy a dog.”

His mother said, “Ho!”

Now they were living there, it would be for about one moon, when the youth said, “Mother, give me gold dust that I may go trading.”

She said, “As for you, as is your wont, you will only take the gold dust and throw it away again, but how much do you want?”

He replied, “An asuanu-and-suru’s worth of gold dust.”

She said, “Take it, then.” So he set out along the trade road.

As he was going along, he met a certain man carrying a cat. He said, “Man, bring that animal that always falls on its feet, that I may buy it.”

The man said, “When I lie down in my room, the mice gnaw my feet; for that reason I bought it.”

He said, “I beseech you, ; let me have it.”

The man said, “You cannot buy it.”

The youth asked, “How much will you take for it?”

The man then replied, “An asuanu-and-suru’s worth of gold dust.”

The boy said, “So that’s why you say I cannot buy it! Here, take it.” The boy received the cat and went off home with it.

When he reached home, he said, “Mother, look here at what I have brought.”

She replied, “Ah, that is just what they said would happen.” The child remained there at home.

It would be about forty days later when the son again addressed his mother, saying, “Give me gold dust that I may go trading.”

The mother said, “All the money I have about me is finished with the exception of an asuasa’s weight of gold dust. If I give you this, and you go, and you do not buy goods with it, that’s the end of this business.”

The boy said, “I have heard.”

The next morning, when things became visible, the youth took up his bag and was off, pa! As he was going, he met a certain Ashanti fellow who was carrying a pigeon. He said, “Friend, bring that creature of yours that I may buy it.”

The Ashanti replied, “I am not selling it, for I amuse myself with it.”

The youth said, “I shall buy it.”

The bird’s master said, “I will not sell it, for I know what it may do for me.”

The boy said, “Oh, give it to me.”

He said, “Will you be able to buy it?”

The boy said, “How much?”

He replied, “An asuasa’s weight of gold dust.”

He said, “Do you suppose because of that I would not buy it?” Here is the sum.”

The boy brought the bird home. His mother said, “This has turned out no better than before. So this is what you have brought?” He replied, “Nevertheless, this is what I have brought.”

Now one day the boy was living there at home, when the pigeon called to him, saying, “Come.” When he went up to it, the pigeon informed him, saying, “In my own village I am chief, and I was about to go on a journey when a certain fellow came and seized hold of me. Then you, out of your kindness, bought me, and now I beseech you, if you will only take me back to my town, the people will take you greatly.”

The boy said, “You are telling me lies. You will run away. “

The pigeon said, “If you can’t see your way to do as I ask, then take a string and tie it to my leg, and take me along.

The boy took a string and fastened it to the pigeon’s leg, and it followed slowly behind him until they arrived at the pigeon’s town. When they reached the outskirts of the town, the children were playing nte marbles. As soon as they saw the bird they said, “Here is the chief! Here is the chief!” one of the children ran to tell the Korenti chief, but they seized him and cut his throat, saying, “You are causing us to call to mind our late sorrow.” But another one went again with the same tidings.

And now the Akwamu chief said, “You, Gyase chief, do you yourself go and see what this is all about.”

He went and looked, and returned. He said, “Oh, it is true!” Then they got a hammock and the regalia and went to bring the chief to his house. The whole tribe was told the news – how he was setting out on a journey, and how a certain fellow had caught him, and how this youth by his kindness had bought him, and how today he had brought him home.

Elders and young people all rose up and thanked the youth. The queen mother brought a water-pot full of gold dust, and all of the elders also each gave a water-pot full of gold dust. The chief himself looked on his hand and slipped off a ring and gave it to the youth. And he said, “Take this ring, and whatever you desire this ring will give you.”

He said, “I have heard.” And he went off with the ring to his village, and he showed the gold dust and the ring to his mother.

Then the mother said, Welcome Aku, welcome Aku!”

Formerly, when the boy, having burned up his gold dust and returned from his journeys, would salute his mother, she used not to answer him. And he gave his mother the news, saying, “You have seen this gold dust and this ring; I shall go and build a great village for us to live in.”

The mother said, “Press your eyes hard; try your best to do so.”

The youth set out and went and stood in the bush. He slipped off the ring and placed it on the ground and said, “Ring, clear all this land of forest and of bush for me.” And the whole of the place became cleared. He said, “Collect all which you have cleared into heaps for burning.” And it did so. He said, “Set up houses.” And it set up many houses. He said, “Ring, let people come and inhabit these houses.” And people came.

The youth made his mother the queen mother and he became chief.

Now, Ananse, the spider, was his best friend. One day, when he was living there in his new home, Kwaku Ananse set out to come to this youth’s village. When he reached it, he said, “Oh, little mother’s child, little father’s child, you have been fortunate and successful and you don’t care any more about me or to look after me. But what has happened to bring all this about?”

Then the youth told him all the news. The spider replied, “I shall go to my village to get something and return.”

Ananse went off to his village. He said to his niece, “I shall send you to my friend yonder, and when you go you will take this white wine for him, and pay attention and do whatever he orders, and you must try secretly to lay your hands on that ring.”

The girl set out and went to the youth’s village. The youth said to her, “As for this, I shall see to it that you do not go back again, for you must stay with me three days before you return..”

The girl said, “I have heard.”

Now he and the girl were there together, and the youth went to bathe.

He slipped off the ring and placed it on a table, and the girl took it and went off with it to her uncle, Kwaku Ananse. As soon a Ananse laid his hands upon it, he made use of the ring to build a big town.

Now, the youth, when he came to look for his ring, could not find it. He came to hear that the spider had built a big town which was greater than his own. Then he went off to consult one of the lesser-gods yonder. The lesser-god told him, “Ananse’s niece who came there to you has taken your ring and gone and given it to her uncle.” The spider also went to consult the lesser-god, and it was revealed to him that Okra, the cat, and Okraman, the dog, would be sent to recover the ring. Therefore he went and got medicine with which to treat the meat he was going to place on the path, so that when the animals who were walking there took some to eat, they would be unable again to go anywhere at all.

The youth who had lost his ring came home and told the cat and the dog: “The time has now come for me to tell you the reason I bought you, and it is this: something belonging to me has been lost, and they say it is in the possession of the spider, but that it lies in a box which is in the middle of all the rest of his boxes. They say he has taken medicine and mixed it with that flesh of the sheep and placed it on the path. So when you reach there, don’t eat it but jump over it.”

The dog said, “Cat, have you heard? You are the one who will chew it.”

The cat said, “Oh, go along, you who every little while take your nose to sniff and sniff!”

Then they began to talk a lot, and their master said, “That’s all right, be off.”

The two animals set out and were going along the path. Now there remained only a short time for them to reach the place where the meat was, when the dog detected the smell of it. He said, “Cat, I have a pain in my stomach and I cannot go on.”

The cat said, “Come, come! Let us go on, the business in hand is important.”

The dog said, “Cat, I am unable.”

The cat on alone. The dog then went to where the meat was, and he chewed up the whole of the meat. There he lay! He was unable to go on any more. And the cat reached Ananse’s village, and lay down in Ananse’s sleeping -room, on the ceiling above the room. As he lay there, he saw a mouse passing. Squeak! as he landed on its head. The mouse said, “Don’t catch me, what is the matter?”

The cat replied, “My master’s ring has been lost and they say it lies in Ananse’s box, which stands in the middle of all the rest of his boxes. If you are able to go and bring it to me, then I shall let you go.”

The mouse said, “I am able.”

The cat said, “Suppose I let you go, and you go off and don’t bring it but run away?”

The mouse said, “If you wish, fasten a string around my waist.”

The cat took a string and tied it around the mouse’s waist. Then the mouse went off into the spider’s room and gnawed a hole in the box which stood in the middle of all the rest. Little by little he made an opening, and soon it become large. He passed through it to go and get the ring to take to the cat. No sooner did the cat lay his hands upon it, than he ran off and came across the dog. He was lying just where the cat had left him. The cat said, “You are still lying here! And where is that meat?”

The dog said, “Oh, I did not see what became of it. Perhaps the people to whom it belonged came and removed it. But where is this ring?” The cat said, “here it is.” The dog said, “They say that the river which lies in the path is in flood, and as you, Cat, walk on the bottom when you cross water, it might be that the ring would fall down, so give it to me, for as for me, you know, I pass on the surface of the water.”

The cat said, “That’s so; you take it.”

They reached the river, and the dog jumped in – so did the cat. At once the cat crossed over. The dog reached the centre of the stream and became tired and, as he was about to take a deep breath, the ring fell out if his mouth into the water. He crossed over and came to where the cat was.

The cat said, “Where is that ring?” He said. “It fell out of my mouth into the water.” The cat ran and entered the water; he saw a great fish passing. The cat caught it. The fish said, “What is it?”

He said, “My ring has just fallen into this river, so unless you want trouble, give me what belongs to me at once. If you don’t give it to me I shall kill you immediately.”

The fish said, “Let us go to the river bank that I may give you what belongs to you.”

The fish said, “Let us go to the river bank that I may give you what belongs to you.”

When they both reached the bank, the fish vomited and the ring came out.

The cat took it and came and showed it to the dog. The dog said, “Father, I beg of you, when you go, don’t speak about what has happened.” The cat remained silent. They reached home and the cat told his master all that had happened, saying, “Because of the meat which the dog chewed as we were going along, he became unable to go farther. And again, when I had gone and got the ring and brought it back, the dog said to me, as he crossed a river on its surface, that I must hand over the ring to him. I gave it to him, and he threw it away in the river. It was only after a little while that I laid my hands on it again.”

All the people who were present said, “You, Cat, whatever kind of food I am eating, I will see to it that I break some and place in your little dish. Whatever mat I sleep upon, I shall only lie upon it provided you lie on some of it. As for you, Dog, you will only lie on the smoldering embers of the dead fire when the chilly might comes. Only with floggings, the folk will flog you.”

That is why you will always see the cat sleeping nowhere but on the best mat; also, if you cast come food down on the ground for him, he will not eat it unless it is on a plate. But as for the dog – we shall always see him sleeping in the courtyard on the dead ashes of the day’s fire; also you will see him there being beaten, he will yelp “Kao!”

It is all because of the time when the cat and the dog were sent on this business of the ring.

[ ASHANTI }

Hare, that will trickster, went to live with Grey antelope. One day he said to her, “suppose we go and till our fields and plant some bean!” So off they went and set to work. Antelope stole Hare’s beans, and Hare stole Antelope’s beans, but did most of the stealing.

Hare set a trap in his field, and Antelope was caught by the leg. In the early morning the cunning rascal went out and found Antelope caught in the trap. “Don’t you think you deserve to be killed,” said he, “now that I have found you out?”

“No! No!” she cried. “Let me go, and we will go back to my house where I will give you a hoe.” So he let her go, and she gave him the hoe.

Hare then packed his beans, harvested all his fields, and made ready to be off. Good-bye,” he said to Antelope, “I won’t stay with you any longer. You are a thief!”

Hare soon came across the great lizard, Varan, lying at the edge of a water-hole. It was the chief’s water-hole, where they drew their water, and he had been placed there on guard to find out who it was that was continually disturbing it and making it muddy. “What are you doing here?” said Hare.

“I am watching this hole to see who it is that muddies the chief’s water.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Hare, “we had much better go and till a field together.”

“How can I dig?” said Varan. “I can’t stand on my hind legs and hold the hoe in my forepaws.”

“That doesn’t matter! Just come long. I will tie the hoe to your tail and you will be able to dig beautifully.”

So the hoe was tied on, but when this was done Varan could not move. Then Hare ran back to the hole, drank his fill of water, and finished by stirring it up well, making it as muddy as possible. After this he walked all over Varan’s fields and regaled himself on his groundnuts. In the heat of the day he came back and said, “Ho! An army has passed through the country. I hear that the warriors have dirtied the water in the hole. I hear, too, that they have ravaged all your crop of groundnuts!”

“Untie me!” said Varan. “I can’t budge.”

“All right, but only on condition that you don’t go and accuse me, Hare, of having stirred up the water.”

“But who told you this story about those soldiers who did all the mischief?”

“Don’t ask me so many questions. If you do, I won’t untie you!”

“Very well! I’ll be quiet, but take away this hoe. It hurts me!”

“Listen! First of all, I’ll go and draw some water for you. You must be thirsty.”

“No, I’m not thirsty. Only let me go!’

“If you are not thirsty, all right! I won’t untie the hoe.”

“Oh, very well, I am thirsty. Hurry up, and come back as fast as you can.”

Hare went to Varan’s village, took the wooden goblet from which he always drank, drew some water, and once again stirred up the hole. He took a drink to Varan, and said to him, “If anyone asks you whether I have disturbed the water, you must say that you did it. If you don’t promise me this, I won’t untie you.”

“All right. Very well.”

Then Hare ran to call the chiefs – Lord Elephant, Lord Lion, and the rest. They all came and asked Varan, “Who has been drawing our water and making it muddy?”

“It is I, said Varan.

And Hare, the rascal, added, “Yes, I found him committing this crime and I tied him up to a hoe, so that he couldn’t run away.”

The chiefs congratulated Hare. “Ah! you have been very clever! You have discovered the villain who has been muddying our pool!” And they immediately killed Varan.

The wily trickster, Hare, took the hoe and then went to look for Grey Antelope. She was on sentry duty, on the edge of a pool, for guards were placed at all the pools to prevent anyone from approaching, as the water still continued to be muddied during the night. Hare, not being able to get anything to drink, said to antelope, “What are you doing there so close to the water?”

“I am guarding the chief’s pool.”

“You will get thin and die of hunger, if you stay like that at the edge of the pools. Listen! You would do much better to come with me and till a field. Then, in time of famine, you would have something to eat.”

“Let us go!” said Antelope.

Hare set to work in grand style. He gave Antelope a hoe and told her to dig. “I can’t get on my hind legs,” said she, “and hold the hoe with my forelegs.”

“Let me have a look at your forelegs. I’ll tie the hoe to them, and you will be able to did all right.”

Antelope tried, but she couldn’t do it.

“Never mind,” said Hare. “Wait a minute.” He ran back to the pool, quenched his thirst, and muddied the water. Then he filled a calabash and hid it in the bush. On returning to Antelope, he said, “Hello! Haven’t you done any hoeing yet?”

“No, I can’t manage it.”

“Would you believe it! An Army has passed by, and they have stirred up the pool.”

“No!” Truly? Untie me, Hare!”

“I won’t untie you unless you swear that what I said is true.”

“Very well! Untie me.”

Off Hare went to get the calabash to give her a drink, and made her promise to confess that it was she who had disturbed the water. Then he called the chiefs, who killed Antelope.

But there was one creature that outdid Hare in cunning and that was Tortoise. She mounted guard at the pond. Hare arrived there. “You will die of hunger, if you stay at the edge of the pool with nothing to do. We had much better go and till a field together.”

“How can I hoe with short legs?” asked Tortoise.

“Oh! That will be all right. I’ll show you how to do it.”

“Eh! No. thank you! I think not!”

“Well then! Let’s go and help ourselves to some of the wild boar’s sweet potatoes.”

“No,” said Tortoise uncompromisingly, “No pilfering!”

However, before very long Tortoise began to feel hungry, so much so that, when Hare again proposed a marauding expedition, she overcame her scruples and they went off together to root up the sweet potatoes. Then they lighted a fire of grass in the bush and roasted them.

“Tortoise,” said Hare, “just go and see if the owners of these fields are anywhere about, as we must not let then catch us.”

“Yes, but let us both go. You go one way and I’ll go the other.”

Off went Hare, but Tortoise, instead of following his example, stayed behind and crawled into Hare’s sack. Hare soon came back, filled up his bag with sweet potatoes, threw it over his back, and ran away to escape the proprietors, shouting at the top of his voice, “Hi, Tortoise! Look out! They will catch you! I’m off! Fly”

He ran as hard as he could to escape capture. Tortoise, inside the sack, ate the sweet potatoes. She picked out all the best ones and finished the lot. She said, being satisfied, “Kutlu.” After a while Hare was tired out and lay down quite exhausted. He felt the oangs of hunger.

“Aha! Said he to himself. “I will have a good feed!” He sat down in a shady spot, opened his sack, out his hand inside, and pulled out one very small sweet potato. “This is much too small for me,” said he, and putting his hand in again, felt a nice big one. “Oho! here’s a beauty! When he had pulled it out of his bag, what was his surprise to find that his potato turned out to be Mistress Tortoise!

“Hello! Why! It’s you!” he cried in disgust and threw her on the ground. She scuttled away as fast as she could. Then Hare began to wail, “When I think that I have been carrying her all this time!” He felt very crestfallen.

Continuing his travels. Hare next met King Lion, surrounded by his courtiers. He at once asked permission to swear allegiance to the king and to settle in that country. But every day he went out to steal other folk’s groundnuts. When the owners of the fields came to look at their crops, they exclaimed, “Who can it be that digs up our groundnuts?”

Hare went off to find King Lion, and said to him, “Sire, your subjects are not what they should be, for they are in the habit of stealing.”

“Indeed!” said Lion. “Go and keep watch, and if you discover anyone stealing, catch him.”

Hare went off to take up his position in the fields, but Lion followed him and surprised him in the very act of feasting on groundnuts. “Ha! Ha! You tell me that my subjects are not honest folk, while it is you who do the thieving!”

“Not at all! I was only keeping a look out! Come here, and I will show you the footprints of your subjects, for I know them well!”

So they went to a large shady banyan tree. Hare made a strong string of one of the long tendrils and said to Lion, “As you think I don’t speak the truth, just sit down here and you will soon see the thieves passing by. I shall while away the time by making you a crown of wax.”

“All right,” said Lion, “make me a crown.”

Hare began by parting Lion’s mane down the middle and arranging the hairs carefully, one by one, on either side of his neck, as if he were preparing a spot on the top of his head for a crown. Then he made holes through the bark of the tree, on both sides of the trunk, and passed the hairs of the mane right through them, some on one side, some on the other. This done, he tied all the hairs securely together at the back of the tree with the string he had made, and he said to Lion, “I’ve finished the job. Jump up quickly and you will see one of your subjects stealing in the fields!’

Lion tried to jump up. He couldn’t! He had half killed himself struggling to get to his feet!

Hare ran to the village. “Come,” he shouted, “And see who it is who ravages your fields! He had previously torn up a lot of groundnut leaves and thrown them down close to the Lion. The villagers hurried to the spot.

“There! Don’t you see him?” Haven’t I found him out, eh?” Lion didn’t dare to say a single word.

Then his subjects cut great staves and beat him to death. “Ah! Hare, You are very clever, and we are grateful!” they said.

Hare cut Lion up into pieces. Then he took the skin and wrapped himself in it. Thus disguised, he went to Lion’s village and entered the queen’s hut. He said, “I am not well,” and shut himself up, refusing to see anyone. he gave orders to servants to kill an ox because he was ill. Then he had a second one slaughtered, then a third.

The women said to him, “Are you going to move to another place, since you are killing all your oxen?”

“No,” said Hare, “I have no intention of moving any more. I am killing them because I know very well that I shall never get over this illness.” So he had a general slaughtering of all Lion’s oxen, goats, and sheep, to the very last head of cattle. When all were killed, he said to the queen, “Haven’t you got my money in your keeping?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Well, bring it all out and put it together with my royal mat and all my valuables on the village square.”

The lion’s skin had now acquired a rather loathsome odor, the flies were settling upon it in swams, and Hare was by no means comfortable inside of it.

“What sort of complaint have you got?” asked the queen. “It is something that smells very nasty.”

“Oh! I have only got some sores. I must go and find a doctor. Good-by, I shall start at once.”

Lion’s wife replied, “Then I will go with you, my husband.”

“No,” said he, “No occasion for that, for I know exactly where I must go.”

He went out to the square, picked up the mat in which all the money and valuables had been packed, and then, throwing off the lion’s skin, he tore away as fast as his legs could carry him with all the village in pursuit.

Hare came to a burrow, and in he ran. The pursuers got a hooked stick to pull him out. They tried to hook him and managed to get hold of his leg. “Oh, pull away!” cried he. “Pull away! You’ve only got hold of the root of a tree!”

So they left off pulling. They tried again, and this time they really hooked a root.

“Hi! hi!” he yelled. “Hi! hi! Take care! You’re hurting me! You’re killing me! Ow! Ow!”

They pulled as hard as they could, and they pulled and pulled until the hook broke and they fell over backward. They said, “Qaa.” Finally they were tired out and said, “Oh! Let us give it up and leave him where he is!” So they stopped up the burrow with a bunch of grass and went away.

The south wind no sprang up and blew the grass deeper into the burrow.

“I am done for,” said Hare to himself, as he fancied they were succeeding in getting nearer to him. He was suffering the pangs of hunger and was terribly thirsty, but not dare to leave the burrow, supposing his enemies to be close at hand. At length he cried out, “Have pity on me and let me go, my good fathers, I beseech you!” He crept cautiously toward the entrance of the burrow, and found only a bunch of grass. Then he made off at once, leaving all his treasures behind him, not even giving them a single thought.

He ran on and on. He became thin and ill. He ate grass, but it did not remain in his insides; it passed through him immediately. He came to the home of Grey Antelope. “Say, Antelope, suppose we sew one another up! You stitch me up, but not completely, you know! It will keep the grass much longer in our insides when we browse, and we shall get much more nourishment out of it.” Antelope consented, and partially stitched up Hare. Hare sewed her up entirely. Antelope swelled and died. Fortunately for her, however, she fell in a field belonging to a woman who picked her up, put her in her basket on the top of her head, and carried her to the village to be eaten. She gave her to her husband to cut up. He set to work and began by cutting the stitches that Hare had sewn. All that was in Antelope’s interior at once came out, she jumped to her legs, and galloped away.

She met Hare, and she said to him, “All right! I’ve found you out now! Never again do I call you my friend!”

Hare, being thirsty, was looking for a pool but could not find one. At last he came to one where no one was on guard. Tortoise was really in charge, but she was in the water. Hare walked in. “What luck! How nice and cool it is!” said he, quenching his thirst and swimming about. Tortoise snapped at one of his legs, then at another.

“Hello! Let me go! I’ll promise you a goat if you will let go!”

They came out of the pond together, and Hare said to her, “Come along to my house, and get your goat.” They reached his home, but no goat! Nothing! Hare did not give her anything. Then he remembered the money that he had left in the burrow and said, “Let us go and see chameleon. He has my valuables, for he borrowed a lot of money from me. I’ll just run round and fetch my brother; he knows all about the business and will be my witness.” Having said this, Hare ran off. Tortoise arrived at Chameleon’s abode and said, “Give me Hare’s money which he says you have!”

“What! I haven’t anything belonging to Hare!” Whereupon Chameleon blew into Tortoise’s eyes. She swelled, and died.

That’s the end.

[THONGA }

THE HARE ONCE MET the hyena and proposed that they should go for a walk. They went for a walk together and then separated, after which the hare went to the lioness’s cave and found it closed. She cried out, “Stone, open,” and the stone rolled away from the mouth of the cave. She entered and said, “Stone close,” and the stone returned to its place. She then proceeded to the room where the lioness stored her fat, after which she went to the room where the meat was kept, and having had enough to eat, she returned to the entrance, told the stone to open, and when she had passed out, to close once more.

Feeling hungry again later she returned to the cave. On the road she met the hyena, who asked her where she came from and why her mouth was oily. The hare denied that her mouth was oily, but as the hyena persisted in his statement, she told him to rub ashes on his mouth and it would become as beautiful as hers. The hyena did as he was recommended, but no change took place in his appearance. The hare next suggested washing it with water and afterwards with urine; but although the hyena tried both, his mouth remained as dry as before. The hyena said, “Please tell me where you go and feed.” At first the hare refused to comply with his request and said, “You are so foolish whenever you go anywhere and are sure to be caught.” But as the hyena would take no refusal, she consented to allow him to accompany her and told him about the lioness’s cave. “There are,” she said, “five rooms. In the first the ashes are kept; in the next, the bones; in the third, the tough meat; in the fourth, the tender meat; and in the last, the fat.” The hyena cried, “Get out of the way, take me there,” and off they started.

When they arrived at the cave, the hare told the hyena that when he wanted the cave to open he must say, “Stone, open,” and when he wanted it to shut, “Stone, close.” The hyena cried out, “Stone, open,” and the stone rolled aside. When they were inside, the hare said, “Stone, close,” and it closed again.

The hyena at once started on the ashes, while the hare went to the room where the fat was kept. When the latter had had enough to eat, she returned to the entrance and said she was going away. The hyena remonstrated with her as he was not nearly satisfied. After telling him how to get out of the cave, the hare went up to the stone and said, “Stone, open,” and again, when she was outside, “Stone, close.”

When the hyena was alone, he went to the place where the bones were kept, after which he proceeded to the next room, where the tough meat was stored, and ate until he was satisfied. He then returned to the entrance and said to the stone, “Stone, close,” instead of “Stone, open.” He repeated the words “Stone, close,” several times and could not understand why nothing happened.

At this point the lioness, the owner of the cave, returned and said, “Stone, open.” When the hyena heard, he cried, “Ah! Woe is me! That is what I wanted to say. Poor fellow that I am! Stone, open! Stone, open!”

The lioness entered and said, “shall I eat you, or shall I make you my servant?”

Then Hyena asked to be made her servant and was told to look after the lioness’s cub. He was also given a bone and instructed to break it when the lioness had crossed four rivers. The hyena counted the lioness’s footsteps and, when he calculated that she had crossed the four rivers, broke the bone. A chip flew, fracturing the cub’s skull. Fearing that the lioness would kill him on her return, he searched for some hornets and stuffed one up each of the cub’s nostrils so that it might be supposed that it had been stung to death.

The lioness returned to her cave a short while afterwards and called to the hyena to bring her cub. The hyena told lies for some time and invented several excuses for not doing as he was told, but the lioness was firm, and the hyena had to pick up the cub and bring it to its mother. The lioness at once saw that it was dead and told the hyena to take it outside. While he was doing this, he ate one of the cub’s legs.

A little later he was again ordered to bring the cub to its mother and then to take it away once more. He devoured another leg while carrying it away, and when the lioness called out to him a third time to bring the cub to her, he said the birds had eaten two of its legs. He then ate up the cub.

The lioness intended to punish the hyena for his misdeeds, and after tying him to a tree, went to get some sticks with which to beat him. As he was standing there, bound to the tree, some other hyenas bent on a raiding expedition passed close by, and one of them, seeing him, asked him why he had been tied up in this manner. He replied that he was being punished for having refused to drink some oil which had flies in it. The other hyena suggested that they should exchange places and, after untying the knots, he allowed himself to be bound to the tree instead, while the first hyena followed in the wake of the raiding party.

After a time the lioness returned, and commenced to flog the hyena, who cried out, “Stop! I will drink it now.”

“Drink what?” said the lioness, and she commenced to flog him again.

“Oh! Oh!” the hyena cried, “I will drink the oil with the flies in it.”

The lioness then saw that this was not the hyena that had killed her cub.

The next morning the hyenas on their way back from their raid passed the cave, and the one who had killed the cub saw on the ground some strips of bark, which the lioness had spread out in the sun to resemble meat. “I will go to my mistress’s kraal,” quoth he, “For I see there has been a kill.” On reaching the spot, however, he was seized by the lioness, who bound him to the tree once more and then beat him to death.

After this the lioness returned to her cave and said, “Stone, open.” When the stone had rolled aside and she had entered, she said, “Stone, close,” and it closed again.

[ MASAI ]

Many years ago there was a great famine throughout the land and all the people were starving. The yam crop had failed entirely, the plantains did not bear any fruit, and the corn never came to a head; even the palm-oil nuts did not ripen, and the peppers and okras also failed.

The leopard, who lived entirely on meat, did not care for any of these things, and although some of the animals who lived on corn and the growing crops began to get rather skinny, he did not really mind very much.

However, in order to save himself trouble, since everybody was complaining of the famine, the leopard called a meeting of all the animals. He told them that, as they all knew, he was very powerful and must have food, that the famine did not affect him, as he lived only on flesh, and that as there were plenty of animals about, he did not intend to starve. He then told all thew animals present at the meeting that, if they themselves did not wish to be killed, they must bring their grandmothers to him for food, and that when the grandmothers were finished, he would feed off their mothers. The animals might bring their grandmothers in succession, and he would take them in turn, so that, as there were many different animals, it would probably be some time before their mothers were eaten. By that time it was possible that the famine would be over. But, in any case, the leopard warned them that he was determined to have sufficient food for himself and that, if the grandmothers or mothers were not forthcoming, he would turn upon the young people themselves and kill and eat them. For this, of course, the young generation, who had attended the meeting, had little liking, and in order to save their own skins why agreed to supply the leopard with his daily meal.

The first to appear with his aged grandmother was the squirrel. The grandmother was a poor decrepit old thing with a mangy tail, and the leopard swallowed her at one gulp and then looked round for more. In an angry voice he growled out, “This is not the proper food for me; I must have more at once.”

Then a bush cat pushed his old grandmother in front of the leopard, but he snarled at her and said, “Take the nasty old thing away; I want some sweet food.”

It was then the turn of a bush buck and, after a great deal of hesitation, a wretchedly poor and thin old doe tottered and fell in front of the leopard, who immediately dispatched her and, although the meal was very unsatisfactory, declared that his appetite was appeased for that day.

The next day a few more animals brought their old grandmothers, until at last it became the turn of the tortoise; but, being very cunning, he produced witnesses to prove that his grandmother was dead, and so the leopard excused him.

After a few days all the animals’ grandmothers were exhausted, and it was necessary that the mothers be sacrificed to supply food for the ravenous leopard. Now, although most of the young animals did not mind getting rid of their grandmothers, whom they had scarcely even known, many of them had very strong objections to providing their mothers, of whom they were very fond , as food for the leopard. Among the strongest objectors were the squirrel and the tortoise. The tortoise had thought the whole thing out. As everyone knew that his mother was alive, she being rather an amiable old person and friendly with all, he was aware that the same excuse would not avail him a second time. He therefore told his mother to climb up a palm tree, and he would provide her with food until the famine was over. He instructed her to let down a basket every day and said that he would place food in it for her. The tortoise made the basket for his mother and attached it to a long string of tie-tie. The string was so strong that she could haul her son up when ever he wished to visit her.

All went well for some days, as the tortoise used to go at daybreak to the bottm of the tree where his mother lived and place her food in the basket. Then the old lady would pull the basket up and have her food, and the tortoise would depart on his daily round in his usual leisurely manner.

In the meantime, the leopard had to have his daily food. The squirrel’s turn came first, after the grandmothers had finished, and as he was poor, weak thing and not possed of any cunning, he was forced to produce his mother for the leopard to eat. The squirrel was, however, very fond of his mother, and after she had been eaten he remembered that the tortoise had not produced his grandmother or his mother for the leopard’s food. He therefore determined to set a watch on the movements of the tortoise.

The very next morning, while he was gathering nuts, the squirrel saw the tortoise walking very slowly through the bush and, being high up in the trees and able to travel very fast, he had no difficulty in keeping the tortoise in sight without being noticed. When the tortoise arrived at the foot of the tree where his mother lived, he placed the food in the basket which his mother had already let down by the tie-tie and, having got into the basket and given a pull at the string to signify that everything was right, was hauled up and after a time was let down again in the basket. The squirrel was watching all the time and, as soon as the tortoise had gone, he jumped from branch to branch to branch of the trees and very soon arrived at the place where the leopard was napping.

When the leopard woke up, the squirrel said, “You have eaten my grandmother and my mother, but the tortoise has not provided any food for you. It is now his turn, and he has hidden his mother away in a tree.”

Hearing this, the leopard was very angry and told the squirrel to lead him at once to the tree where the tortoise’s mother lived.

But the squirrel said, “The tortoise only goes at daybreak when his mother lets down a basket; so if you go early in the morning, she will pull you up, and you can then kill her.”

To this the leopard agreed, and the next morning the squirrel came at cockcrow and led the leopard to the tree where the tortoise’s mother was hidden. The old lady had already let down the basket for her daily supply of food. The leopard got into it and gave the line a pull, but except for a few small jerks nothing happened. as the old mother tortoise was not strong enough to pull a heavy leopard off the ground. When the leopard saw that he was not going to be pulled up, being an expert climber, he scrambled up the tree. When he got to the top he found the poor old tortoise whose shell was so tough that he thought she was not worth eating, so in a violent temper he threw her down on the ground and then came down himself and went home.

Shortly after this, the tortoise arrived at the tree and, finding the basket on the ground, gave his usual tug at it but there was no answer. He then looked about and after a little while came upon the broken shell of his poor old mother who by this time was quite dead. The tortoise knew at once that the leopard had killed his mother and made up his mind that for the future he would live alone and have nothing to do with the other animals.

[ EFIK-IBIBIO ]

The gazelle said to the leopard, “It is now the dry season, and we should be cutting down the bush, so our women may plant as soon as the first rain come.”

“Well,” said the leopard, “I cannot go today, but you may as well go.”

The gazelle went; and all that hay he cut the bush, and cleared the ground for planting, and the next day he also went alone.

On the third day the leopard called on the gazelle and asked him to go to the plantation with him. But the gazelle said he was sick and could not go, so the leopard went by himself.

The next day the leopard again called for the gazelle, but he was not in.

“Where’s he gone?” inquired the leopard.

“Oh, he has gone to another part.”

And each day the leopard called upon the gazelle he was either sick or out of town; so that the leopard had nearly all the hard work himself.

When the women had planted, and the harvest was ripe, the gazelle went to look at the plantation. He was greatly pleased to find so much planted, and thought how pleased his friends would be if he invited them to a feast; so he called in all the antelopes and other beasts of the field, and they had a splendid feast.

By and by the leopard thought he would go and see how his plantation was getting on, and no sooner had he arrived there he exclaimed, “Hullo, who has been feeding on my plantation and eaten up my corn? Surely I will set a trap for them and catch the thieves.”

The next day the animals, led by the little gazelle, came again; and he warned them, saying, “Be careful, for the leopard will surely set a trap for us.” But the antelope became careless, and finally fell into the leopard’s trap. “There,” said the gazelle, “I told you to be careful. What shall we do? They have all run away and left us, and I am not strong enough to release you.”

Then the leopard came, and rejoiced greatly at having caught the thief. He took the antelope to his town. “Please, sire, the gazelle told me to go,” cried the antelope. “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

“How am I to catch the gazelle?” The leopard replied. “No, I must kill you.” And so he killed the antelope and ate him.

When the gazelle heard what the leopard had done, he was greatly annoyed, and declared that as the leopard was their chief, the animals were quite right in eating the food he had provided for them. Was it not the duty of the father to provide for his children? “Well, well, never mind, he will pay us for this.”

Then the gazelle made a drum, and beat it until all the animals came as if to a dance. When they were assembled, he told them that they must be revenged upon the leopard.

The leopard heard the drum, and said to his wife, “Let us go to the dance.” But his wife said she would rather stay at home, and did not go. The leopard went; but no sooner had he arrived than they all set upon him and killed him. And when the dance was over, the leopard’s wife wondered why he had not return. The gazelle sent her the head of her husband, skinned, as her part of the feast; and not knowing that it was her husband’s head, she ate it.

“Oh, for shame,” said the gazelle, “you have eaten your husband’s head.”

“Nay, sir, the shame rests with you; for you gave it to me to eat, after having murdered him.” And she wept and cursed the gazelle.

[ BAKONGO }

ONCE UPON A TIME a caterpillar entered the house of a hare when the owner was absent. On his return the hare noticed the marks on the ground, and cried out, “Who is in my house?”

The caterpillar replied in a loud voice, “I am the warrior son of the long one whose anklets have become unfastened in the fight in the Kurtiale country. I crush the rhinoceros to the earth and make cow’s dung of the elephant! I am invincible!”

The hare went away, saying, “What can a small animal like myself do with a person who tramples an elephant under foot like cow’s dung?”

On the road he met the jackal and asked him to return with him and talk with the big man who had taken possession of his house. The jackal agreed, and when they reached the place he barked loudly and said, “Who is in the house of my friend, the hare?”

The caterpillar replied, “I am the warrior son of the long one whose anklets have become unfastened in the fight in the Kurtiale country. I crush the rhinoceros to the earth and make cow’s dung of the elephant! I am invincible!’

On hearing this the jackal said, “I can do nothing against such a man,” and left.

The hare then fetched the leopard, whom he begged to go and talk with the person in his house. The pLeopard, on reaching the spot, grunted out, “Who is in the house of my friend, the hare?”

The caterpillar replied in the same manner as he had to the jackal, and the leopard said, “If he crushes the elephant and the rhinoceros, he will do the same to me.”

They went away again, and the hare sought out the rhinoceros. The latter, on arriving at the hare’s house, asked who was inside, but when he heard the caterpillar’s reply, he said, “What! He can crush me to earth! I had better go away then.”

The hare next tried the elephant and asked him to come to his assistance, but on hearing what the caterpillar has said, the elephant remarked that he had no wish to be trampled under foot like cow’s dung, and he departed.

A frog was passing at the time, and the hare asked him if he could make the man who had conquered all the animals leave his house. The frog went to the door and asked who was inside. He received the same reply as had been given to others, but, instead of leaving, he went nearer and said, “I, who am strong and a leaper, have come. My buttocks are like the post and God has made me vile.”

When the caterpillar heard this, he trembled, and as he saw the frog coming nearer, he said, “I am only the caterpillar.”

The animals who had collected nearby seized him and dragged him out; and they all laughed at the trouble he had given.

[ MASAI ]

ONCE ON A TIME, A king married the daughter of another king; he loved her very much. His other wives were troubled on account of his love for her. She became pregnant, and gave birth to a girl: the father loved her exceedingly. The child grew, and when she was a fine handsome little child, the other wives formed a plot against her; they said, “Since her father is not at home, let us go and cut fibre.” They told the children not to agree to carry the child. The mother called the little girl who nursed her child. She refused to carry her. The mother put her on her back, and went with her.

They cut fibre, and went on continually. It came to pass in one of the valleys they sat down and took snuff. The mother made a bundle of fibre, and gave it to the child: the child played with it. They set out again and cut fibre. They went on continually. the mother forgot the child. They went on continually cutting fibre; they tied it up in bundles, and carried it home.

When they came home, they called the children’s nurses: they all came. But hers came without the child. She asked, “Where is my child?” They said, “you took her with you.” She was troubled, and cried, and ran to find her. She did not find her, and came back.

There was a great lamentation. The other wives said, “How is it now? We have destroyed the father’s darling. The pet wife is confounded.”

A messenger was sent to tell the father; it was said, “King, your child has been lost, while we were cutting fibre.” The father was greatly troubled.

In the morning an old woman of the royal household of another nation went to fetch water: she heard the child playing; she heard something saying, “Ta, ta, ta.” She wondered and said, “Ah! what is this?” She went stealthily along, and found the child, sitting and playing. She went home, and left both her and the water-pot. She called the king’s chief wife, and said, “Come here.” The queen went out of the house. She said, “Let us go; there is something by the river which you will see.” The queen said, “Take her.” She said so with joy. The old woman took her. They came to the river. The queen said, “Wash she.” She washed her. The queen took her, and placed her on her back, and went home.

She suckled her, for she had given birth to a boy. The queen brought her up. She grew and the queen’s own child walked. She grew and became a great girl. She was appointed chief of the girls, when a great feast was made. Many cattle were slaughtered, and all the people rejoiced.

After that the chief men said to the boy, “Marry this girl.” The boy wondered, and aid, “O! what is the meaning of this? Is she not my sister? Did we not suck together at my mother’s breast?” They said, “No, she was found in a valley.” He denied, and said, “No, she is my sister.” The next morning they said, “It is proper you should take her to be your wife.” He refused, and was greatly troubled.

On another occasion an old woman said tot he girl, “Do you know? She answered, “What?” She said, “You are going to be married.”” She inquired, “To whom?” She said, “the young man of your own house.” She said, “O! what is the meaning of this? Is he not my brother?” The old woman said, “No, you were taken from a valley, and brought up by the queen.” She cried, being much troubled.

The girl took a water-pot, and water to the river, and sat down and wept. She filled the water-pot, and went home. She sat down in the house. Her mother gave her food; she did not like it, and refused. The mother asked, “What is it?” She said, “Nothing. There is a pain in my head.” So it was evening, and she went to lie down.

In the morning she awoke and took the water-pot, and went to the river; she sat down and wept. As she was crying, there came out a great frog, and said, “Why are you crying?” She said, “I am in trouble.” The frog said, “What is troubling you?” She replied, “It is said that I am to become the wife of my brother.” The frog said, “Go and take your brother things, which you love, and bring them here.”

She rose and took the water-pot, and went home. She took another pot, and fetched her things, and out them in the pot; she took her brass rod, and her ubenthle kilt, and a petticoat with a border of brass balls, and her fillet, and her brass, and her beads. She took these things, and went to the river, and threw them on the ground.

The frog inquired, saying, “Do you wish me to take you to your own people?” The child said, “Yes.” The frog took her things and sallowed them; he took her and swallowed her; and set out with her.

On the way he met with a string of young men: they saw the frog. The one in front said, “Just come and see: here is a very great frog.” The others said, “Let us kill him, and throw stones at him.” The frog said:

“I am but a frog; I will not be killed.

I am taking Umbhlubu to her own country.”

They left him. They said, “Hau! How is it that the frog speaks, making a prodigy? Let us leave him.” They passed on, and went their way.

And so the frog too went on his way. Again he met with a string of men. The one in front said, “O, come and see a huge frog.” They said, “let us kill it.” The frog replied:

“I am but a frog; I will not be killed.

I am taking Umdhlubu to her own country.”

They passed on, and the frog went on his way.

He fell in with some boys herding cattle: they saw him, and he was seen by a boy of the damsel’s father. He had said, “W au! By Umdhlubu the king’s child! Come and kill a great frog. Run and cut sharp sticks, that we may pierce him with them.” The frog said:

“I am but a frog; I will not be killed.

I am taking Umdhlubu to her own country.”

The boy wondered, and said, “O, sirs, do not let us kill him. He calls up painful emoptions. Leave him alone, that we may pass on.” They left him.

The frog went on his way and came to others. He was seen by the girl’s own brother: he said, “By Umdhlubu the king’s child! There is a very great frog. Let us beat it with stones and kill it.” The frog said:

“I am but a frog; I will not be killed.

I am taking Umdhlubu to her own country.”

He said, O, leave him alone. He speaks a fearful thing.”

He went on and came near her home: he entered a bush below the kraal: he placed her on the ground with her things. He put her in order: he cleansed her with udonqa: he anointed her, and put on her ornaments.

So she set out. She took her brass rod, and went and entered at the gateway, and she passed across the cattle enclosure: she went in the middle of it: she came to the opening, she went out, and entered the house of her mother. Her mother followed her into the house and said, “Where do you come from, damsel?” She said, “I am merely on a journey.” The mother said, “Tell me.” She said, “There is nothing, I am merely on a journey.” The mother said, “Women are satisfied who have such fine children as you. For my part, I am in trouble: my child was lost: I felt her in the valley: she died there.” The child answered, saying, “No; the queens made me forget her; they would not allow the nurse to carry her.” The girl said in answer, “No! there is no woman who can forget her own child.” She said, “No; it happened through my not being accustomed to carry a child; for she used to remain with the nurse.” Umdhlubu said, “Yes, you did it because you did not love me.” She began to look very earnestly at her; she saw that it was her child.

When she saw her she rejoiced. She praised with the praise-giving names of her child. The mother took her role, and girded her herself; she took her head-ornament, and put it on her head; she took her petticoat, and put it on; she took her staff, and went out; she leaped for joy, and halala’d; she went into the cattle-pen; she played leaping about with joy. The people wondered and said, “What has happened to Untombinde today? Why does she rejoice so much? Since the time her first-born died, she has never rejoiced, but has constantly been in sorrow.”

One from her side went out, and said, “Just let me go and see what is in the house? Why do I hear the queen praising with the praise-giving names of her dead child? So she went, and entered the house, and saw the girl. She went out, and shouted aloud, and gave thanks.

All the people went out. They ran to the house, hurrying to get there first. They crowded each other together at the doorway. They saw the child. All the people on her side rejoiced. All the others were troubled, and the queens of the other side said, “Ah! What does it mean? For we thought we had already killed this child. She has come to life again. We shall be confounded together with out children. The supremacy of our children is coming to an end.”

A messenger set out and went to her father; he arrived and said, “O king, your child that was dead is come to life again.” The king said, “Hau! Are you mad? Which is that child?” The messenger said, “Umdhlubu.” The father said, “Whence comes she?” He said, “I do not know, O king.” The father said, “If it is not she, I will kill you. If it is she, run, raise a cry in all places, that the people may bring together all the large oxen, and come with them.”

He went and raised a cry, and said, “The princess has come. Make haste with the oxen.” The men asked, “Which princess?” He replied, “Umdhlubu, the child of the king, who was dead.”

They rejoice; they took their shields; they took the oxen, and drove them; they took also their presents to gladden the princess; for she had risen from death; they found her when they no longer expected it. They came; they slaughtered many cattle, even in the paths, in order that the old men and the old women and the sick might eat, who were not able to reach the home where the princess was.

The father came and said, “Come out, my child, that I may see you.” She did not answer. He slaughtered twenty oxen. She made her appearance at the doorway, and stood still. He slaughtered thirty; she came out. The father said, “Go into the cattle-kraal; let us go to dance for you, for our great joy; for I used to say, you are already dead, but in fact you are still alive.” She stood still. Again he slaughtered forty oxen. Then she went, and entered into the kraal.

They danced for her very much. But the other side of the kraal did not rejoice; it did not dance together with the children and queens of that side. They left off dancing.

The father went with her into the house, and sat down with her. He said, “Let a fat young ox be taken, that we may eat and rejoice, for she was dead, and had risen from the death.”

So All the people rejoiced. The child returned to her royal position. Her father did right, royally; he returned to his former habits, and loved at that kraal, for he had ceased to be there much, because he remembered his child which had hied. Her mother and the children of her house rejoiced together.

Her father asked her, “How did you come here?” The child said, “I was brought by a frog.” The father said, “Where is he?” The child replied, “He is yonder in the bush.” The father said, “Let oven be taken, that he may be danced for, and come up to our home.” So they went and danced for him.

They brought him home. They brought him into the house and gave him ,meat, and ate. The king inquired, “What do you wish that I should give you as a reward?” He said, “I wish some black hornless cattle.” He took many cattle and people, and said, “Go with him.” So they went and came to his country.

The frog built a great town, and became a great chief. He slaughtered cattle continually; and men came to ask for meat. They inquired, “What is your chief who built this town?” They said, Uselesele.” They inquired, “Whence did he obtain so large a town as this?” They said, “He got it because he brought out princess to the king; so he gave him cattle and men.” They answered, saying, “Are you then the people of Uselesele?” They said, “Yes. Do not speak disrespectfully of him; he will kill you, for he is a great chief.”

Uselesele took many people under his protection. They revoked from their chiefs through seeing the abundance of food at Uselesele’s. So Uselesele reigned and become a king.

Unkosi-yasenthla heard it said, “Unkosi-yasenzansi has a beautiful daughter, named Umdhlubu.” He said to his people, “Go and see what kind of damsel it is.” They went, and came to Unkosi-yasenzansi, and said, “King, we have seen sent by Unkosi-yasnthla, that we might select a beautiful damsel from among your children.”

He summoned them, and they came. At length they saw only one damsel which excelled all the others in beauty. For they remembered, that if a king has sent people to go and choose a beautiful damsel, it is proper that they should look very earnestly; for those people are the king’s eyes, because he trusts them. They look earnestly, that they may not be reproved when the damsel is brought home. When they see she is ugly, not like aa damsel which has been chosen for a king, they find great fault, saying, “Why have you disgraced the king by choosing an ugly thing for him?” The honor of those men is ended; they are removed from their honorable office, because they are not trustworthy. therefore they chose Umdhlubu for her beauty’s sake, saying, “It is she only who is fit to be the king’s queen above all the others.”

Therefore those who were left were ashamed; and their mothers were ashamed; and their brothers were ashamed. There was rejoicing in the house of Umdhlubu. The joy began with Umdhlubu, who was conspicuous for beauty among many other damsels and in the eyes of them all, for it was said, “There is a beautiful woman indeed!” Her mother rejoiced in her heart, saying, “I did well when I gave birth to my child!” And the children of her house were exalted, although their mother had been long ago exalted by the king, through being loved. there, then, was the hatred which increased towards that house of Umdhlubu, as her mother also was loved very much by the father of Umdhlubu. There was a very great hatred in the hearts of the other queens, on account of the beauty of Umdhlubu, which was admired by the king of another people above all their own children. They were ashamed for ever.

So they looked, and chose Umdhlubu. They departed to tell the king. They arrived home, and said, “King, we have seen the beautiful damsel; her name is Umdhlubu.” The king said, “Aye; it is well. We must set out and go thither, and take a thousand head of cattle. ” So they set out.

Unkosi-yasenzansi, as he was sitting in the shade within the cattle-pen with his people, said, “What is that yonder? There is a great dust which rises to heaven.” They were afraid. He said to his soldiers, “get ready to fight, for we do not know what is coming.” After that the cattle appeared coming with the king and his people. Unkosi-yasenzansi went to meet them.

But the chief said, “I am Unkosi-yasenthla; I come to see Umdhlubu. Then they all went to her house. When they arrived, they asked her to have Umdhlubu given them. Her father rejoiced when he heard that.

They had cattle slaughtered for them. They spoke with the father. Unkosi-yasenthla said, “I come to you, Unkosi-yansenzansi, I being desirous of taking your daughter; if you assent, it is well. I come with a thousand cattle.” The father assented, saying, “It is well.”

He assembled all the girls, and all the men, the young men with head-rings, and the youth; he set apart men for the purpose of working for Umdhlubu. He took out brass and beads for her marriage, and five hundred oxen, and said, “Now it is right. Set out with her. There is an officer for the purpose of conducting the wedding ceremonies.”

So they all went with him, and reached the king’s home. As they were coming into sight, a great cry was raised, and the people appeared in all directions, shouting, “The quee n of Unkosi-yasenthla has come.” They rejoiced.

They retired to rest. In the morning, when the sun had risen, and it was hot, the damsels went out with the young men and youths, and went into the bush; they sat down there. When the time for dancing arrived, they danced; they fetched the damsel from the bush; she went to the kraal to dance.

So they ended the dance. She took brass, and placed it before her father, and prayed, saying, “Sire, take care of me forever, for now I am in thy hand, preserve me.”

The whole marriage party sat down. They danced for them. They ended the dance. In the morning the damsel had ten bullocks killed and they ate and rejoiced.

The officer of the ceremony said, “Sire, we now wish to set out to return home, for the work is done.”

The king took five hundred head of cattle, and sent them as a present to his mother. The men returned home.

And the damsels remained. Umdhlubu’s father had said that they were not to return, but stay with her, and work for her; and many people, both male and female, remained there to build her town.

The king said, “Now build the town of the queen, where she may live with her people.”

So the town was built and completed. The king visited it; many cattle were killed, that the soldiers might eat, and complete the queen’s town. The king also went to live there at the new town. Thus he took Umdhlubu to be his wife.

The people of Umdhlubu’s father reached their home, and said, “O king, we have done all things very well. There are cattle for Umdhlubu’s mother; they are given to her by her son. He told us to give his respects to both his father and mother.”

So all lived together in peace.

[ ZULU ]

Two beings, Elephant and Rain, had a dispute. Elephant said, “If you say that you nourish me, in what way is it that you do so?” Rain answered, “If you say that I do not nourish you, when I go away, will you not die?” And Rain then departed.

Elephant said, “Vulture! Cast lots to make rain for me!” Vulture said, “I will not cast lots.”

Then Elephant said to Crow, “Cast lots!” and Crow answered, “Give the things with which I may cast lots.” Crow cast lots and rain fell. It rained at the lagoons, but then they dried up, and only one lagoon remained.

Elephant went hunting. There was, however, Tortoise, to whom Elephant said, “Tortoise, remain at the water!” Thus Tortoise was left behind when Elephant went hunting.

There came Giraffe, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Zebra, who said to Tortoise, Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Gemsbok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Wildebeest, and said, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Roodebok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Springbok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

there came Jackal, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Lion, and said, “Little Tortoise, give me water!” When little Tortoise was about to say something, Lion got hold of it and beat it. Lion drank of the water, and since then all the animals drink water.

When Elephant came back from the hunting, he said, “Little Tortoise, where is the water?” Tortoise answered, “The animals have drunk the water.” Elephant asked, “Little Tortoise, shall I chew you or swallow you down?” Little Tortoise said, “Swallow me, if you please,” and Elephant swallowed it whole.

After Elephant had swallowed little Tortoise, and it had entered his body, it tore off his liver, heart, and kidneys. Elephant said, “Little Tortoise, you kill me.”

So Elephant died, But little Tortoise came out of his dead body and went wherever it liked.

[ HOTTENTOT }

Once upon a time there was a wolf and a fox. The wolf was the master and the fox the servant.

One day both were grazing their flock in the pasture and, as they were thus grazing, the wolf and the fox wandered off into the plains to dig up some wild onions. The sheep scattered in pasturing and then lay down. Wolf and Fox were in the plains eating wild onions; in this way they lost sight of the sheep. After a while, the wolf said to the fox, “Companion, go and bring back the sheep!”

The fox found the wild onions very much to his taste, but he got up and bound two sheep together, a ram and a ewe, and then returned. Again the wolf and the fox wandered over the plain to dig up wild onions. After a while the wolf again said to the fox, “Go and bring back the sheep once more!”

The fox, however said, “Companion, look, the sheep are pasturing quietly.” Thereupon the wolf himself got up and looked after the sheep, and there he found the two sheep which had been bound to the tree by the fox, a male one and a female one. He grew very angry when he saw what roguish trick the fox had played on him, and when he returned he asked the fox, “Rascal, where are the other sheep?” and he broke off some branches and struck the fox hard. The fox, thereupon, went to look for the sheep, but, as he was crying, he held his arms up to his head.

Then he looked into the distance and saw two cattle, a white one and a black one, and said, “Those cattle there are mine.” And the wolf questioned him, saying, “Where are they? And the fox said, “Was it not you who just beat me so severely?” And the wolf said, “Well, come and beat me now!” Thereupon the fox looked around for branches from a thorny bush, braided them together, and said to the wolf, “Lie down!”

Then he beat him hard, and the wolf’s blood began to trickle down. And the wolf said, “By the blood of my mother! Did I beat you that hard?” So the fox said, “Come, just look at my back; it is all torn up.” So the wolf said, “Go ahead then, beat me!” When he stopped beating him, he looked out into the distance and saw the two cattle. And the fox said, “The black one is mine.” Then they raced toward the two cattle. The wolf seized the white one and the fox seized the black one. The wolf pierced his cow first, the fox pierced his last. The fox’s cow showed fat in the wound, and the wolf’s nothing bot foam. Then the wolf grew angry and said, “The cow that you have given me is emaciated.” And the fox said, “All right then; take mine.” Then both pierced their cows again, the wolf that belonging to the fox, and the fox that belonging to the wolf. And when the wolf pierced the cow, foam once more appeared in the wound, whereas the wound that the fox made showed fat. So the wolf said, “Let us slaughter them together so that we may eat in common.”

As they were slaughtering them, the wolf said to the fox, “now that we have slaughtered a thing of this kind, why, in truth, are we eating? Let us therefore kill our mothers, so that we can grieve for them.” thereupon the fox said, “Yes.” merely out of roguishness. So they arrived, the wolf led his mother into the field and killed her. But the fox led his mother away and seated her in a cave by the road to the spring and then returned. Thereupon they fetched the meat. The wolf sent the fox out and said, “Get out the cooking-pot and go fetch some water.” So the fox took the vessel and went.

On the road he rubbed some meat around his mouth and then went into the cave where his mother was and said, “Mother!” calling her. And the mother said, “Uooo!” answering him. Then he gave her the meat and went to draw water.

Upon his return he went to the village of the wolf, and the wolf was full of grief because he had really killed his mother. But the fox was joyful, because he had not really killed his mother. And so they put the meat on to cook. Then the wolf said, “Fox, go fetch me some water. Take some meat and go; you can eat on your way.” And since his mother was hidden near the road, he eagerly hurried on.

One day the wolf said, “Today I shall go to fetch water.” The fox said, “I beg you, I have an aunt there, and the road is bad, let me fetch water.” Nut the wolf said, “It is my turn to go and fetch water.” The fox was disturbed because the wolf would not yield. Now the wolf took the water pail and went and fetched water, and he had not taken any meat along. On his way he came close to the cave, and the fox’s mother called saying, “Fox, my child, have you abandoned me?” So the wolf stayed still and listened to determine where the voice came from.

Then the fox’s mother called again, saying, “my child, have you abandoned me?” So the wolf realized that the fox had deceived him and had not killed his mother. Then he went to the cave and stabbed the mother with the spear and laid her down in the opening. Then he went to fetch water and came back to the village.

The next morning the wolf sent fox saying, “Go, fetch me some water.” Thereupon the fox took some meat and his pail and started out. When he came close to the cave, he called and looked in, thinking she was asleep. And he said, “Mother, mother!” Then he touched her foot. “The poor creature is not sleeping, she only sleeps on one eye, the other is open.” But the mother did not stir, so he got an ant and placed it on her eye, so that it could bite her and wake her up. But she did not wake up; no, she was dead. Then he went into the cave and looked around. And then he saw the wound; and he sat down and cried very hard.

Thereupon he fetched some water and went home and did not want to return to the water any more. The wolf noticed that the fox had become angry. In the evening, when they set the meat to cook and sat by the fire to warm themselves, the fox was crying very hard. Thereupon the wolf questioned him, saying, “What are you crying about?” And the fox said, “I am bleary-eyed, that is all, perhaps it is the smoke.” Yet, when he had taken his seat there, he continued crying. Then the wolf said, “Yonder is your aunt, your mother, whom I have killed and for whom you are weeping. Is that not so? Now I am bewailing both my mother and your mother, my friend.”

The next day dawned. The wolf went to graze his flock, but the fox stayed in the village. The wolf said to him, “Stay here and cook me a good meal!” Thus it was. The wolf went to graze his flock, and the fox stayed in the village and put meat in the pot to cook. As the meat was cooking, the fox took all of it out, scooped up the fat, gathered together some dung of dogs, cattle, and human beings and some pieces of leather for the pot and departed.

When the wolf came back in the evening from driving his flock, he found that the fox had disappeared. Under the fur blanket the fox had placed an insect and told it, “If the wolf calls, answer!” And the wolf came in and called saying, “There is the aunt.” Thereupon the insect said “Uooo!” and the wolf was very pleased and said, “There is the aunt of yours; just put her in, she is boiling.” He was very pleased.

He stepped up to the pot and took a stick and stirred with it, saying, “The fox has played a roguish trick again, he has eaten all the meat, the fat as well and then he has disappeared.” Then he grew very wroth and took the fur and beat it thinking that the fox was inside. But the fox had gone long ago. He was far away. This the wolf discovered, so he pursued him and stayed on the spoor, till he found him on a rock. At this he was very well pleased, for now he would be able to kill him. He tried to climb up. Hew climbed part way but then slid back. Then he climbed again but again slid back and said, “Fox, how did you climb up?” But the fox had smeared the rock with tallow, and he said, “Yonder is the aunt; take this pebble, and I shall tell you where I climbed up. Take it and let me see!” Then he continued: “Do show me your teeth that I can see whether they are good or bad, whether they are filed out or whether they are not filed out yet.” So the wolf opened his mouth and the fox threw the rock into the wolf’s mouth and broke all his teeth.

Then the fox ran away. The wolf cried out but not turn back; indeed, he did not. He continued his pursuit of him. Now the fox was at a woman’s house in the village, so when the wolf arrived, he said, “Grab that fox.” He went closer and closer and shouted, “Do not let him get away!” But the fox said, “People, you hear what he is saying: “Let him get away!’ ” So the people went away.

Thereupon the wolf went to the lion and said, “Have pity on me and do seize that fox, do not let him get away!” and the fox said again, “Do you hear? There he says it again: ‘Let him get away!’ “

Finally the fox went into a cave and plucked out all his hair. The wolf caught up with him and said, “How this one resembles the fox with his thick tail and his long muzzle!’ But the fox said, “How the man talks! Have I not plucked myself bare as a Hill Damara, and now he says, you resemble the fox!” And so the wolf went away.

[ HERERO ]

A very long time ago there was a king who called Walukaga, chief of the smiths, and gave him a great quantity of iron and said, “I want you to make a real man for me, one who can walk and talk, and who has blood in his body, and who has brains.”

Walukaga took the iron and went home, but he was at a loss what to do, and no one could advise him how to set about making the real man. He went about among his friends telling them what the king has said, and asked what he had better do. No one was able to give him any advice. They all knew that the king would not accept anything short of an honest trial, and would punish the man for not carrying out his commands.

On the way home one day Walukaga net a former friend who had gone mad, and who lived alone on some wasteland. Walukaga did not know that he was mad until he met him. When they approached each other, Walukaga greeted his old friend, and the madman asked him where he had come from. Walukaga reasoned for a moment and then said to himself, “Why should I not tell him my story? Even though he is mad, he used to be my friend.” So he answered, “I have come from some friends where I have been trying to get advice.”

The madman asked what advice he wanted, and Walukaga told him all the king had said, and about the work he had given him to do, and how he had given him the iron, and then added, “What am I to do?”

The madman answered, “If the king has told you to do this work, go to him and say that, if he really wishes to have a nice man forged, he is to order all the people to share their heads and burn the hair until they have made up a thousand loads of charcoal, and he is to get one hundred large pots of water from the tears of the people with which to slake the fire and keep it from burning too fiercely.”

Walukaga returned to the king and said to him, “My lord, if you wish me to make this man quickly and well, order the people to shave their heads and burn their hair, and make a thousand loads of charcoal out of it for me to work the iron into the man. Further, make them collect a hundred pots full of tears to act as water for the work, because the charcoal from wood and the ordinary water from wells are of no use for forging a man.”

The king agreed to the request and gave the order to all the people to shave their heads and burn their hair into charcoal, and to collect all the tears. When they had all shaved their heads and burnt their hair, there was scarcely one load of charcoal, and when they had collected all the tears there were not two pots full of water.

When the king saw the results of his endeavors, he sent for the smith Walukaga and said to him, “Don’t trouble to make the man, because I am unable to get the charcoal or the tears for the water.”

Walukaga knelt down and thanked the king. He then added, “My lord, it was because I knew you would be unable to get the hair for charcoal and the tears for the water that I asked for them; you had asked me to do an impossible thing.”

All the people present laughed and said, “Walukaga speaks the truth.”

[ BAGANDA ]

Mantis once did as follows: Kwammang-a had taken off a part of his shoe and thrown it away, and Mantis picked it up and went and soaked it in the water, at a place where some reeds grew. Mantis went away, then he came back again, went up to the water, and looked. He turned away again, for he saw that the Eland was still small.

Again he came, and found the Eland’s spoor where it had come out of the water to graze. Then Mantis went up to the water, while Eland went seeking the grass which it eats. He waited, sitting by the water, he was upon the water’s bank, opposite Eland’s assegai, and soon Eland came to drink there. He saw Eland as it came to drink. He said, “Kwammang-a’s shoe’s piece!” And young Eland walked up as when its father thrilled to him. Mantis called, making his tongue quiver, as Bushmen still do in springbok hunting.

Then Mantis went to find some honey; he went to cut some honey. He came back and put the bag of honey down near the water and returned home. Then, before the sun was up, he came back to pick up the bag. He approached while Eland was in the reeds. He called to it, “Kwammang-a’s shoe’s piece!” And Eland got up from the reeds and walked up to its father. Mantis put down the bag of honey. He took out the honeycomb and laid it down. He kept picking up pieces of it, he kept rubbing it on Eland’s ribs while he splashed them, making them very nice.

Then he went away and took the bag to seek for more honey to cut. When he came back he again laid the bag of honey down near the water and returned home. Once more he returned and picked up the bag, once more he went to the place and called Eland out of the water, saying, “Kwammang-s shoe’s piece.”

Then Eland stood shyly in the water and walked up to its father, for he had grown. His father wept, fondling him. He again rubbed Eland’s ribs making nice with honeycomb. Then he went away, while Eland walked back into the water, went to bask in the water.

Mantis did not come back for a time, and for three nights. Eland grew, becoming like an ox. Then Mantis went out early. The sun rose, as he walked up to the water. He called Eland, and Eland rose up and came forth, and the ground resounded as it came. And Mantis sang for joy about Eland; he sang:

“Ah, a person is here!

Kwammang-a’s shoe’s piece!

My eldest son’s shoe’s piece!

Kwammang-a’s shoe’s piece!

My eldest son’s shoe’s piece!”

Meanwhile he rubbed Eland down nicely, rubbed down the male Eland. Then he went away and returned home.

The next morning he called young Ichneumon, saying that young Ichneumon should go with him and that they would be only two. Thus he deceived young Ichneumon. And they went out and reached the water while Eland was grazing. They sat down in the shade of the bush by which Eland’s assegai stood, where he kept coming to take it.

Mantis spoke: “young Ichneumon, go to sleep!” for he meant to deceive him. So young Ichneumon lay down, as Eland came to drink, because the sun stood at noon and was getting hot. Meanwhile young Ichneumon had covered up his head, because Mantis wished him to do so. But young Ichneumon did not sleep; he lay awake.

The Eland walked away, and young Ichneumon said. “Hi, stand! Hi, stand, stand!”

And Mantis said, “What does my brother think he has seen yonder?”

And young Ichneumon said, “A person is yonder, standing yonder.”

And Mantis said, “You think it is magic; but it is a very small thing, it is a bit of father’s shoe, which he dropped. Magic it is not.” And they went home.

Then young Ichneumon told his father Kwammang-a about it. And Kwammang-a said that young Ichneumon must guide him and show him Eland; he would see whether Eland was so very handsome after Mantis had rubbed it down. The young Ichneumon guided his father, while Mantis was at another place, for he meant to go to the water later on. Meanwhile they went up to Eland at the water, and Kwammang-a looked at it and he knocked it down while Mantis was not there. He knocked Eland down and was cutting it up before Mantis came. So when Mantis arrived, he saw Kwammang-a and the others standing there cutting up his Eland.

And Mantis said, “Why could you not first let me come?” And he wept for Eland; he scolded Kwammang-a’s people, because Kwammang-a had not let him come first, and let him be the one to tell them to kill eland.

And Kwammang-a said, “Tell Grandfather to leave off. He must come and gather wood for us, that we may eat, for this is meat.”

When Mantis came, he said he had wanted Kwammang-a to let him come while Eland was still alive, and not to have killed it when he was not looking. They might have waited to kill Eland until he was looking on. Then he himself would have told them to kill it. Then his heart would have been comfortable. Now his heart did not feel satisfied about Eland whom he alone had made.

Then, as he went to gather wood, he caught sight of a gall there, it was Eland’s gall. And he said to himself that he would pierce the gall open and that he would jump upon it. And the gall spoke: “I will burst, covering you over.”

Just the young Ichneumon said, “What are you looking at there, that you do not gather wood at that place?”

So Mantis left the gall, brought wood, and put it down. Then he again looked for wood at the place where the gall had been. He went up to the gall and again said he would pierce the gall open and that he would jump upon it. The gall again said it would burst, covering him all over. He said he would jump, and that the gall must burst when he trod on it and as he jumped.

Young Ichneumon scolded him again and asked, “What can be yonder, that you keep going to that place? You do not gather wood, you just keep going to that bush. You are going to play tricks and not gather wood.”

And Kwammang-a said, “You must make haste and let us go when you have called Grandfather, for the gall lies there; Grandfather has seen it. So you must make haste. When Grandfather behaves like this about anything, he is not acting honorably; he is playing tricks with this thing. So you must manage that we start, when you have called Grandfather, that we may leave the place where the gall is.”

Then they placed the meat into the net, while Mantis untied his shoe and put the shoe into the bag. It was an arrow-bag which he had slung on next the quiver. And so they carried the things and went along homeward. On the way Mantis said, “This shoestring has broken.”

Then young Ichneumon said, “You must have put the shoe away.”

And Mantis said, “No, no the shoe must really be laying there where we cut up Eland. So I must turn back and go fetch the shoe.”

But young Ichneumon said, “You must have put the shoe in the bag. You must feel inside the bag, feel in the middle of it and see whether you cannot find the shoe.”

So Mantis felt in the bag, but he kept feeling above the shoe. He said, “See, the shoe is really not in it. I must go back and pick it ip, for the shoe is truly yonder.”

But young Ichneumon replied, “We must go home, we really must go home.”

Then Mantis said, “You can go home, but I must really go and get the shoe.”

Thereupon Kwammang-a said, Let Grandfather be! Let him turn back and do as he wants.”

And young Ichneumon said, “O you person! I do wish Mantis would for once listen when we speak.”

Mantis only said, “You always go on like this! I must go and get the shoe.”

Then Mantis turned back. He ran up to the gall, reached it, pierced it, and made the gall burst. And the gall broke, covering his head; his eyes became big and he could not see. He groped about, feeling his way. And he went groping along, groping along, groping, until he found an ostrich feather. This he picked up, sucked it, and brushed off the gall from his eyes with it.

Then he threw the feather up and spoke: “You must now lie up in the sky; you must henceforth be the moon. You shall shine at night. By your shining you shall lighten the darkness for men and women, until the sun rises to light up all things for men and women. It is the sun under whom men and women hunt. You must just glow for men and women, while the sun shines for men and women. Under him men and women walk about; they go hunting; they return home. But you are the moon; you give light for men and women, then you fall away, but you return to life after you have fallen away. Thus you give light to all people.”

That is what the moon does: the moon falls away and returns to life, and he lights up all the flat places of the world.

[ BUSHE MEN ]

I often tell of Kimanaueze, who begat a male child. The child grew up, and he came to the age of marrying. His father said, “Marry.”

He said, “I will not marry a woman of the earth.”

His father asked, “Then whom will you marry?”

He answered, “I!” If it must be, I shall marry the daughter of Lord Sun and Lady Moon.”

But the people asked, “Who can go to the sky where the daughter of Lord Sun and Lady Moon lives?”

He simply said, “I, indeed; I want her. If it is anyone on earth, I will not marry her.”

Thereupon he wrote a letter of marriage and gave it to Deer. But Deer said, “I cannot go to the sky.”

Then he gave it to Antelope. Antelope also said, “I cannot go to the sky.”

He gave the letter to Hawk. Hawk, too, said, “I cannot go to the sky.”

He gave the letter to Vulture, but Vulture also said, “I can go half way to the sky; however, All the way I cannot go.”

Finally the young man said, “How shall I do it?” He put his letter in his box and was quiet.

The people of Lord Sun and Lady Moon used to come to get water on earth, and one day Frog came and sought out the son of Kimanaueze and spoke to him.

“Young master.” he said, “give me the letter that I may take it.”

The young master, however, said, “Begone! If people of life, who have wings, gave it up, how can you say, “I will go there?” How can you get there?”

Frog said, “Young master, I am equal to it.”

So Kimanaueze gave Frog the letter, saying, “If you cannot get there and you return with it, I shall give you a thrashing.”

Frog started out and went to the well where people of Lord Sun and Lady Moon were wont to come to get water. He put the letter in his mouth and got into the well and kept very still. In a little while, the people of Lord Sun and Lady Moon came to get water. They put a jug into the well, and Frog got into the jug. After they got the water, they lifted it up, not knowing that Frog had entered the jug. They arrived in the sky, set down the jug in its place and departed.

Then Frog got out of the jug. In the room where they kept the jugs of water, there was also a table. Frog spat out the letter and placed it on top of the table. Then he hid in the corner of the room.

After a while, Lord Sun himself came into the room where the water was; he looked at the table and saw the letter on it. He took it and asked his people, “Where comes this letter?”

They answered, “lord, we do not know.” He opened it and read it. It ran thus: “I, the sun of Na Kimanaueze Kia-Tumb’a Ndala, a man of earth, want to marry the daughter of Lord Sun and Lady Moon.” Lord sun thought to himself in his heart: “Na Kimanaueze lives on earth; I am a man who lives in the sky. He who came with the letter, who is he?” He put the letter away into his box and said nothing.

When Lord Sun finished reading the letter, Frog got into the jug again. After the water had been emptied out of the jugs, the water girls lifted them and went down to earth. They again arrived at the well and put the jugs in the water. Frog then got out and went under the water and hid himself. After the girls had finished the filling of the jugs they left.

Frog answered, “Master, I delivered the letter, but they have not yet returned an answer.”

The son of Kimanauze said, “O man, you are telling a lie; you did not go there.”

Frog said, “Master, that same place where I went, that you shall see.”

After six days, the son of Kimanaueze again wrote a letter to ask about the former letter, saying: “I wrote to you, Lord Sun and Lady Moon. My letter was delivered but you returned no answer whatsoever to me, saying neither ‘We accept you’ nor ‘We refuse you.'” Having finished his letter, he sealed it. Then he called Frog and gave it to him. Frog started and soon arrived at the well. He took the letter into his mouth, got into the water, and squatted on the bottom of the well.

After a while, the water carriers came down and arrived at the well. They put the jugs into the water, and Frog got into a jug. When they had finished filling them, they lifted them up. They went up to the sky by means of a cobweb which Spider had woven. Soon they arrived there, and entered a house. There they set down the jugs and departed. Frog came out of a jug, spat out the letter, and laid it on the table. Then he hid in the corner.

After a while, Lord Sun passed through the room where the water was. He looked at the table and saw the letter on it. He opened it and read it. The letter said: “I, son of Na Kimanaueze Kia-Tumb’a Ndala, I ask you, Lord Sun, about my letter that went before. You did not return me an answer at all.”

Lord Sun said, “Girls, you who always go to fetch water, are you carrying letter?”

The girls said, “We, master? No.”

Then doubt possessed Lord Sun. He laid the letters in the box and wrote to the son of Kimanaueze, saying: “You who are sending me letters about marrying my daughter: I agree, on condition that you in person, the man, come with your first-present, so that I may know you.” When he finished writing, he folded the letter and laid it on the table and went away. Frog now came out of the corner and took the letter. He out it in his mouth and entered the jug. Then he remained very quiet.

After a while, the water was emptied from the jugs, and the girls came and lifted them up. Then went to the cord of Spider and descended to earth. They arrived at the well and put the jugs into the water. Frog got out of the jug and went to the bottom of the well. When the girls had completed the filling of the jugs, they returned to the sky. Frog then left the well and soon arrived in his village. He kept very quiet.

When evening came, he said, “Now I will take the letter.” He spat it out and arrived at the house of the son of Kimanaueze. He knocked at the door, and the son of Kimanaueze asked, “Who is it?”

Frog answered, “I, Mainu, the frog.”

The son of Kimanaueze got up from his bed where he was reclining and said, “Come in.”

So Frog went in and delivered the letter. Then he departed. The son of Kimanaueze opened the letter and read it. What Lord Sun announced pleased him. He said to himself: “Why, it was the truth Frog told me when he said ‘you shall see where I went.’ ” Then he went to sleep.

The next morning, he took forry macutas and wrote a letter, saying: “You, Lord Sun and Moon, here is the first-present; I remain on earth to seek for the wooing-present. You up there, you tell me the amount of the wooing-present.” He finished the letter and called Frog. When he came, he gave him the letter and the money, saying, “Take this.”

So Frog started. Soon he arrived at the well. He went to the bottom of the well and remained very quiet. After a while, the girls came down and put the jugs in the water, and Frog entered one of them. When the girls had finished filling them, they took them up. Again they went up to the sky by means of a cobweb. Soon they arrived in the room for the water. They set down the jugs and went away.

The Frog got out of the jug and put the letter in the table, together with the money. Then he hid in the corner. Some time later, Lord Sun came into the room and found the letter on the table. He took it with the money and read the letter. Then he told his wife the news that had come from the prospective son-in-law. His wife assented.

Lord Sun said, “Who is coming with these letters? I do not know. How shall his food be cooked?”

His wife, however, answered, “No matter, we shall cook it anyhow and put it on the table where the letters have been found.”

Lord Sun replied, “Very well.”

So they killed a mother hen and cooked it. When evening came, they cooked mush. They set these eatables on the table and shut the door. Frog came to the table and ate the victuals. Then he went to the corner and kept quiet.

Lord Sun now wrote another letter, saying: “You, son-in-law of mine, the first-present, which you have sent me, I have received. For the amount of the wooing-present, you shall give me a sack of money.” When he had finished the letter, he laid it on the table and left the room. Then Frog came out of the corner and took the letter. Shortly afterward, he entered the jug and went to sleep.

In the morning the girls took the jugs and went down to the earth. They arrived at the well and put the jugs into the water. Frog then got out of the jug. When the girls had finished filling the jugs, they again went up to the sky.

Frog now got out of the water and soon arrived at his village. He entered his own house but waited quietly until sundown. When evening had come, he said, “Now I will take the letter.” He started out and soon arrived at the house of the son of Kimanaueze. He knocked at the door and the son of Kimanaueze asked, “Who is it?”

Then Frog answered, “I, Manu, the frog.”

“Come in,” he replied.

Frog went in; he gave him the letter and departed. The son of Kimanaueze opened the letter, read it, and then put it aside.

Six days passed; then he was ready with the sack of money. He called Frog, and when Frog had come, the son of Kimanaueze wrote the following letter: “You, my parents-in-law, the wooing-present is enclosed. Soon I myself, I shall find a day to bring my wife home.” He gave the letter to Frog, together with the money.

Frog then started and soon arrived at the well. Again he went in under the water and hid. After a while, the water carriers came down and arrived at the well. They put the jugs, as usual, in the water; Frog, as usual, entered a jug. When they had finished filling the jugs, they took them up, going up by means of Spider’s cobweb. Soon they arrived in the sky. There they set down the jugs in the regular room and departed. Frog then got out of the jug and laid the letter down on the table, together with the money. Then he went into a corner and hid.

Soon Lord Sun came into the room and found the letter and the money. He took both and showed the money to his wife, Lady Moon.

Lady Moon thereupon said, “It is good.”

Then they took a young hog and killed it. When they had cooked the food, they set it down on the table and shut the door. Frog came in then and ate it. When he had finished, he entered the jug and went to sleep.

The next morning the water carriers took the jugs and again went down to earth. They soon arrived at the well and dipped the jugs in the water. Frog then got out of the jug and hid. When they had finished filling the jugs, they again returned to the sky. Then Frog left the well and soon arrived at his village. He entered his house and went to sleep.

The next morning, he said to the son of Kimanaueze, “Young master, I gave them the wooing-present, and they accepted it. They cooked me a young hog, and I ate it. Now, you, yourself, shall choose the day to fetch the bride home.”

The son of Kimanaueze said, “Very well.” Then twelve days elapsed.

Now the son of Kimanaueze spoke to Frog: “I need people to fetch the bride for me, but I cannot find them. All those to whom I speak say, ‘We cannot go to the sky.’ Now, what shall I do Frog?”

Frog said, “My young master, be at ease; I shall find a way to go and bring her home for you.”

But the son of Kimanaueze said, “You cannot do that. You could indeed carry the letters, but bring the bride home – that you are unable to do.”

But Frog again said, “Young master, be at ease; be not troubled for naught. I indeed will be able to go and bring her home. Do not despise me.”

The son of Kimanaueze said, “Well, I will try you.”

Then he took some victuals and gave them to Frog.

Frog thereupon started. Soon he arrived at the well. Again he got into the well and hid. After a while, the water carriers came down and arrived at the well. They dipped the jugs in the water. Frog entered one of them. When they had filled them, they went back. Arriving at the proper room, they set down the jugs and departed. Then Frog got out of the jug and hid in a corner. When the sun had set and it was evening, Frog left the room of the water jugs and went to seek the room where the daughter of Lord Sun slept. He found it and saw her asleep there. First, he took out one of her eyes and, then, the other. These he tied up in a handkerchief and went back to the room where the jugs were. He hid in a corner and slept.

In the morning, all the people got up, but not the daughter of Lord Sun. So they asked her, “Why do you not get up?”

And she answered, “My eyes are closed; I cannot see.”

Her father and mother said, “What may be the cause of this? Yesterday she did not complain.”

So lord Sun called for two messengers and said to them, “Go to Ngombo to divine about my child who is sick, whose eyes are sick.”

They started immediately and soon arrived at the Ngombo-man’s. They gave him presents and Ngomobo took out his paraphernalia. Not the people who came did not let him know anything about the disease; they simply said, “We have come to be divined.”

Ngomobo looked into his paraphernalia and said, “Disease has brought you. The one who is sick is a woman. The sickness that ails her concerns her eyes. You have come, being sent; you have not come of your own will. I have spoken.”

The people said, “True. Now tell us what caused the ailment.”

Ngombo looked again and said, “She, the woman is sick, is not yet married. She is only chosen. Her master, who bespake her, has sent a spell, saying, ‘My wife, let her come; if she does not come, she shall die.’ You, who came to divine, go, bring her to her husband, that she may escape death. I have spoken.”

The messengers agreed and get up. They went to Lord Sun and reported to him the words of Ngombo.

Lord Sun said, “All right. Let us sleep. Tomorrow they shall take her down to the earth.”

Frog, being in his corner, heard all that they were saying. Then all slept.

The next morning, Frog got into the jug. Again the water carriers came. Again they took up the jugs. Then they descended to the earth and soon arrived at the well. They put the jugs in the water, and Frog came out of one of them. He hid under the well. When the jugs were fill, the water carriers went up to the sky.

The Lord Sun told Spider, “Weave a large cobweb, down to earth, for this is the day when my daughter will be taken down to the earth.” Spider wove and finished the web. thus time passed.

Frog now got out of the well and went to his village. He found the son of Kimanueze and said to him, “O young master! Thy bride , today she comes.”

The son of Kimanaueze said, “Begone, man, you are a liar.”

Frog answered, “Master, this is the truth itself. This evening I will bring her to you.”

Frog then returned to the well and got into the water and was silent.

Now the sun had set, and the daughter of Lord Sun was taken down to the earth. They left her at the well and then went back.

Frog now got out of the well and spoke to the young woman, saying, “I myself will be your guide. Let us go immediately so that I can bring you to your master.” Then Frog returned her eyes to her and they started. Soon they entered the house of the son of Kimanaueze. Frog exclaimed:

“O young master! Your bride is here.”

The son of Kimanaueze said, “Welcome, Mainu, the frog.”

And so the son of Kimanaueze married the daughter of Lord Sun and lady Moon, and they lived on.

[ AMBUNDU ]

Vulture, Fish-Eagle, and Crow were without fire, for there was no fire on earth. So, needing fire, all the birds assembled and asked, “Whence shall we find fire?”

Some of the birds said, “Perhaps from God.”

Thereupon Mason-Wasp volunteered, saying, “Who will go with me to God?”

Vulture answered and said, “We will go with you, I and Fish-Eagle and Crow.”

So on the morrow they took leave of all the other birds, saying, “We are going to see whether we can get fire from God.” Then they flew off. After they had spent ten days on the road, there fell to earth some small bones – that was Vulture; later, there also fell to earth some other small bones – that was Fish-Eagle. Mason-Wasp and Crow were left to go on alone. When the second ten days were ended, there fell other small bones to earth – that was Crow. Mason-Wasp was left to go on by himself. When the third ten days were over, he was going along, reposing upon the clouds. Nevertheless he never reached the summit of the sky.

As soon as God heard of it. He came to where Mason-Wasp was; And, answering God’s question as to where he was going. Mason-Wasp said, “Chief, I am not going anywhere in particular. I have only come to beg some fire. All my companions have dropped by the way; but nevertheless, I have persevered in coming, for I had set my heart upon arriving where the Sky-God is.”

Thereupon God answered him, saying, “Mason-Wasp, since you have reached Me, you shall be chief over all the birds and reptiles on earth. To you, now, I give a blessing. You shall not have to beget children. When you desire a child, go and look into a grain-stalk and you will find an insect whose name is Ngongwa. When you have found him, take and carry him into a house. When you arrive in the house, look for the fireplace where men cook, and build there a building in the house for your, child Ngongwa. When you have finished building, put him in and let him remain there. When many days have elapsed, just go and look at him. And one day you will find he has changed and become just as you yourself are.”

So it is today: Mason-Wasp, before he builds a house, looks for the fireplace, just as he was commanded by God.

[ BAILA ]

Mantis was speaking: “Now I want you, Ichneumon, to catch some fat sheep for my father to cut up for us and hang up to dry near the house. I do not feel like cutting any up, as I am still writhing with pain. The swelling must first disappear, then I, too, can cut them up, then I too. shall hang meat to dry at my house. Because I, too, want the sheep’s fat to be dry, that the women may render it, so that we may moisten the dry meat which we have been crunching. For the quagga’s meat was white with age and not tender. Now I want to cut up the old sheep, and let the young ones wait a little, for we shall not finish all these sheep; they are too many. I, furthermore, want Porcupine to go out tomorrow, when she has cooked and out aside the meat which she has dried. The Man yonder shall come and eat with me of these sheep, because I haver counted them and I see that they are plentiful.

But Porcupine said, “Do you really want me to go to the Man yonder, who eats bushes? He will come and swallow all the sheep, as they stand in the kraal. You need not think that even these bushes will be left, for we shall be swallowed with the sheep. A Man who devours things as he does – walks along eating the very bushes among which he walks!”

Mantis replied to her, “You must go to your other father, the All-Devourer, that he may help me eat up these sheep, and drink this soup. I have already poured away some of the soup, because I feel that my heart is upset. Fat has taken hold of my heart; I do not want to drink more soup. I want the Old Man yonder to come to drink it up. Then I can talk, for I do not talk now. Do you, therefore, fill the sack with cooked meat and take it. Then he will come; otherwise he might refuse.”

Porcupine protested again: “People do not live with that Man. He is alone. People cannot hand him food, for his tongue is like fire. He burns people’s hands with it. You need not think that we can hand food to him, for we shall have to dodge away to the sheep opposite. The pots will be swallowed with the soup in them. Those sheep will be swallowed up in the same way, for yonder Man always does so. He does not often travel, because he feels the weight of his stomach which is heavy. See, I Porcupine, live with you, although he is my real father, because I think he might devour me, and you will not devour me. Nevertheless, I will fetch him tomorrow, that he may come. Then you will see him yourself with your own eyes.”

Porcupine went on the morrow, carrying cooked meat. She arrived at her real father’s, the All-Devourer. There she stopped and set down the sack of meat. She said to he father, “Go! Cousin yonder invites you to come and help eat the sheep yonder, for his heart is troubling him. It is he who wants you to come. I have told you. Now I will go on in front, for I do not walk fast.”

She shook the meat out of the bag upon the bushes. The All-Devourer licked up the meat and the bushes with it; he just gulped down the bushes too. Porcupine slung on her empty bag, and went forward quickly. While she walked she gave directions: “You must climb up to that place from which I came; you will see the sheep standing there.” She went ahead in great fear of the All-Devourer, and was the first to reach the hut.

Mantis asked her, “Where is your father?”

Porcupine answered him, “He is still on his way. Look at that bush standing up there, and see if a shadow comes gliding from above. Watch for the bush to break off, then look for the shadow; when you see that, the bushes up there will have disappeared, for his tongue will take away the bushes beforehand, while he is still approaching from behind the hill. Then his body will come up and when he arrives the bushes will be gone all along the way to us. We shall no longer be hidden. Now I want Ichneumon to eat plenty, for of that meat he will never eat again and when the Man yonder comes, the bushes will be finished and the sheep likewise be swallowed up.”

The All-Devourer followed Porcupine’s spoor. As he went he ate up the bushes. He climbed up, finishing off the bushes, while his shadow glided up to Mantis’s hut. The shadow fell upon Mantis. Mantis looked at the sun. He asked where the clouds were, for the sun seemed to be in clouds.

Porcupine said to him, “There are no clouds there, but I want Ichneumon to go and hide this pot away for me, for the truly feels the shadow of the man coming yonder. It altogether shuts us in. The sun will seem to have set when he reaches us. His mouth sits black along there; it it not shadow, it is what the trees go into.”

Then mantis saw the All-Devourer’s tongue. He asked Porcupine, “Is your father holding fire in his hand, for a fire is waxing red yonder?”

Porcupine answered, “It is the Man coming there, whose tongue is red. He is night, therefore you see his tongue. We will get out of the way here. We will not hand him anything ourselves, but put down something for him, for his tongue would singe our hands if we held anything out to him. Therefore I want Dasse to hide the other pot that she may still have soup. For now she herself sees the stomach, it truly extends to either side of us. We do not hear the wind, because he comes; the wind does not blow, for he always makes a shelter when he stands. He does not sit down, he stands; he will first eat up the things around him for they are still plentiful. He has put a layer of bushes in the bottom of his stomach and he has partly filled it, but he has not filled it up yet. Therefore he is still seeking food. He is a Man who fills himself to his trunk. If he looks round and finds no food, he will swallow these people, for they invited him to come to food which was not sufficient to his hunger.

The All-Devourer arrived, and Mantis placed food for him. The All-Devourer gulped it quickly down. Then Mantis took soup and poured it into a bucket. The All-Devourer swallowed the bucket. A pot was still keeping warm. Now Mantis took meat which had been put away in a bag, he put it into a bucket, and pushed the bucket toward the All-Devourer. The All-Devourer put out his tongue and licked and scorched Mantis’s hands. Mantis pulled his arms quickly away and sprang aside, knocking against Dasse.

Dasse said, “Why does Mantis spring aside from the Man whom he invited to come? Porcupine told him not to give anything with his hands, but to put meat for the All-Devourer on the bushes.”

Mantis took meat and put it in the pot. He said to young Mantis, “O child, make a good fire for the pot. My hands are burning and keep me sitting where Grandfather scorched me. You can feel his breath which is hot. His tongue feels like that, too.”

Then Dasse said to him, “You ought to ladle out sheep’s meat and put it on the bushes.” But Mantis dod not hear, he sat spitting on his hands to cool them. He ladled out another bucketful. He again pushed the bucket to the All-Devourer. The All-Devourer licked his hands again. Mantis sprang aside, losing his balance, and tumbled into the hut. He got up, and sat licking, cooling his hands. He spoke to Ichneumon: “O Ichneumon, give me meat to cook, for you see it is as Porcupine told us, the buckets seem to have vanished.”

But Ichneumon said to Mantis, “Mother told you that it would be like this. You would not listen; you invited the big cousin whom people know, whom no one invites, because his tongue is like fire.”

Now Mantis called to young Mantis, “Go and fetch me the meat which Porcupine hid, for you see this bucket of meat has been devoured. You must look at the stomach.”

Mantis brought two buckets and ladled out the meat. Dasse nudged him, and he winked at her. He slung a bucket forward with meat in it, then he slung another bucket forward alongside of it. The All_devourer’s tongue licked his ear, and he tumbled into the hut.

Dasse spoke to him and he winked at her. She said, “O Mantis, leave off winking at me! You must feed cousin, whom you invited. You must give him plenty to eat; Porcupine told you that she did not want to fetch him, because his tongue is always like this.”

The All-Devourer gobbled up both buckets, he licked up the meat which was on the bushes of the hut and devoured it, together with the bushes.

Mantis then said to Ichneumon, “O Ichneumon, “O Ichneumon, you must cook at that other place, and bring the meat which is on the bushes, for the buckets here are all swallowed. I will give the Old Man a pot which is hot to swallow, for you see the bushes are all gone. I shall no longer sit and cook in the bushes, and when the wind blows.”

The All-Devourer stepped backward, he licked up Kwammang-a’s home bushes, he devoured them quickly with the meat on them.

Mantis spoke to Ichneumon: “O Ichneumon, quickly bring another sheep, you must cut it up quickly, for you see that the bushes have all been swallowed with all the meat.”

The All-Devourer asked for water. Mantis lifted up a whole waterbag and set it before him. The All-Devourer’s tongue took up the waterbag; he swallowed it with the water in it. He licked up a thorn bush.

Mantis then spoke to young Mantis: “You see, we shall not eat, for that thorn bush has been devoured, even though it has thorns.” Again mantis said to Ichneumon, “O Ichneumon, fetch that water there which is in the waterbag, for you see the other waterbag has been swallowed. Grandfather turns his head seeking for more water. He himself has devoured all the other things, he still seems likely to gobble up our beds. I shall truly sit upon the ground, if Grandfather eats up all the things in my hut.

The All-Devourer licked up Porcupine’s things; he swallowed them quickly. Then Mantis said to his son, young Mantis, “See, sister’s things there have been devoured; sister sits there on a bare place. All the sheep will soon be devoured.”

The All-Devourer looked toward the sheep, his tongue took up all the sheep, he swallowed them quickly, while they were still alive.

Mantis exclaimed, “Have no the sheep been quickly swallowed, even before I had cut them up as I meant to do? Alas, the bushes have vanished, swallowed up! We are sitting on a bare place. Alas! Now I lack my things which I brought, that I might possess them.”

Porcupine winked at Ichneumon. “O Ichneumon, I tell you, your younger brother must spring away. Father will be swallowed, if he goes on acting bravely like this; and Grandfather Mantis, the one who is talking, he will certainly be swallowed.”

The All-Devourer called out his name, He-Who-Is-a-Devourer-of-Things, whom Mantis had called to come to him. He said to Mantis, “O Mantis, bring out the things to which you invited me, the real things which I, a devourer of things should eat.” He advanced and burned Mantis with his tongue.

But Mantis said, “I who am Mantis who invited You-Who-Devour-Things to my home. You came and finished off my things.. You should not ask, seeking the real food to which I invited you, for those sheep which you have devoured were the food. There is no food.”

Thereupon the All-Devourer quickly devoured Mantis and Mantis was quiet. Young Mantis spring away and took up the bow. The All-Devourer looked toward Kwammang-a. Young Kwammang-a sprang aside and ran away. Mantis was quite silent, because he was in the stomach of the All-Devourer. The All-Devourer stood opposite Kwammang-a and said that he was really going to swallow his daughter Porcupine’s husband, even though he was handsome, yet he would swallow him, for he felt inclined to do so. He advanced and quickly swallowed his daughter’s husband with the bed on which he was sitting. All-Devourer’s stomach now hung almost down to the earth.

Porcupine wept; she stood sighing. The children came from afar. Then Porcupine asked young Mantis, “Are you a fierce man?” He was silent. She asked him, “Are you angry?” Young Mantis was silent, because he felt angry. She also questioned her son, young Kwammang-a. She turned as she sat, heated a spear, and asked her son, “Are you angry?” You must remember that Grandfather’s tongue resembles fire. I do not want you to flinch, if your heart is like father’s heart, ” Young Kwammang-a sat still; they agreed to cut his grandfather open.

She took the spear out of the fire and drew it, burning hot, along her younger brother’s temple. The fire burnt his ear; he sat still. She reheated the spear, it became red hot. She put the spear burning hot into her younger brother’s nose. Tears slowly gathered and stood in his eyes. She said to him, “A mild person is this, whose tears slowly gather.”

She reheated the spear and laid it, burning hot, on her son’s ear-root. Her son sat still. She heated the spear again, and said to her son, “Grandfather’s tongue is like this; I don’t want you to flinch from him, if your heart is like your father’s heart.” She took out the spear when it was red, and out it into her son’s nose. Then she looked at his eyes. They were dry. She said to herself, “Yes, a fierce man is this; that one is a mild man. This one if fierce; he resembles his father. That other one is a mild; he resembles his father Mantis. He is a runaway.” She said to her son, “Remember, Grandfather’s tongue is like this. You must sit firmly when you go to Grandfather.”

The children went in wrath to their Grandfather; they approached him as he lay in the sun. He arose, stood up, and waited. Young Kwammang-a said to the other, “Mother wished me to sit on one side of Grandfather, and you to sit on his other side. Because you cut with the left hand like your father, you must sit with your left arm, in which you hold the spear, outward. I will sit opposite on this side, so that I may have my right arm, in which I hold the spear, outside.”

The All-Devourer scorched young Mantis’s temple with his tongue. He walked forward, he scorched with his tongue the ear-root of his grandson, young Kwammang-a. He said that this little child really seemed very angry. He walked forward, and scorched the root of young Mantis’s ear with his tongue. Young Mantis sat still. All-Devourer went forward, and scorched young mantis’s other ear with his tongue. Young Kwammang-a looked hard at the other and signed to him to hold his spear fast, and he held his own well. The other also held his spear well, because he had said beforehand, “You must cut one side, while I cut the other side. Then we must run away, while the people pour out.”

He sprung forward and cut the All-Devourer; and the other cut him too. Then they ran away, while fathers poured forth. The sheep also poured forth, the buckets poured forth; his father sat on his bed; the pots poured forth; all things poured down. His grandfather doubled up and died.

Then the children said, “O bushes, we have cut you out. You shall truly become bushes; you shall again grow in your place; you shall be what you were before. The place shall be right again and these sheep shall wander over it. They shall graze over it, and again return to the kraal, which shall be as it was before. For that Man who now lies here, who ate up the bushes, shall utterly perish and disappear, so that the people may get dry bushes and be able to warm themselves.” Thus young Mantis spoke. He felt that he truly resembled his father, that his speech resembled his father’s speech. And it all came true.

Now Dasse gave Mantis water but said to him, “O Mantis, you must drink only a little!”

Mantis replied, “I am dying of thirst, I must drink up the egg-shell-ful.” He gulped all the water down and sank to the ground. Kwammang-a waited.

Porcupine said to Dasse, “Take that long stick lying there; you must beat your husband on the shinbone with it until he gets up, you must hold his face fast and rub it.” So Dasse took up the long stick and hit Mantis on the shin. He started up quickly and sat shivering.

Dasse reproved him: “I told you to drink only a little, because you would be like this, if you gulped down all the water; but you would drink nearly all, thus killing yourself, so that you fell down.”

Now porcupine gave Kwammang-a some water and said to him, “O Kwammang-a! You must drink only a little. You must put the water down soon – when you have just wet your mouth. You must sit down then and wash yourself a little, for you have just come out of the stomach in which you were. Then presently you can drink plentifully, when you feel that your body is warm.”

Kwammang-a drank a little, he put down the water quickly, and did not gulp it all down. He washed himself, drank again, and then drank plentifully.

His wife cooked the meat for him which she had kept hidden away. She had told Ichneumon to hide some for her, so that they could eat it after the children had dealt with the Man who was devouring them, and he lay dead. “We must eat here, for he lies yonder, where the children have slain him. Then we will travel away, leaving him lying outside the hut. We will move away and seek a new home, because the Man lies in front of this home. We will live in a different hut which we will make our home.”

Then they travelled away to a new home, and left the hut at which the Man who had devoured the people was lying. In this new home they always lived in peace.

[ BUSHMEN ]

The moon, it is said, once sent an insect to men/women, saying, “Go o men/women and tell them, ‘As I die, and dying live, so you shall also die, and dying live.'”

The insect started with the message, but, while on his way, was overtaken by the hare, who asked, “On what errand are you bound?”

The insect answered, “I am sent by the Moon to men/women, to tell them that as she dies, and dying lives, so shall they also die and dying live.”

The hare said, “As you are an awkard runner, let me go.” With these words he ran off, and when he reached men/women, he said, “I am sent by the Moon to tell you, ‘As I die and dying perish, in the same manner you also shall die and come wholly to an end.’ “

The hare then returned to the Moon and told her what he had said to men/women.

The Moon reproached him angrily, saying, “Do you dare tell the people a thing which I have not said?”

With these words the moon took up a piece of wood and struck the hare on the nose. Since that day the hare’s nose has been slit, but men/women believe what Hare had told them.

[ HOTTENTOT ]

Long, long, ago there was a great famine in the world, and a certain your man, while wandering in search of food, strayed into a part of the bush where he had never been before. Presently he perceived a strange mass lying on the ground. He approached and saw that it was the body of a giant whose hair resembled that of white men in that it was silky rather than woolly. It was of an incredible length and stretched as far from Krachi to Salaga. The young man was properly awed at the spectacle, and wished to withdraw, but the giant, noticing him, asked what he wanted.

The young man told about the famine and begged the giant to give him some food. The latter agreed on condition that the youth would serve him for a while. This matter having been arranged, the giant said that his name was Owuo, or Death, and he then gave the boy some meat.

Never before had the latter tasted such fine food, and he was well pleased with his bargain. He served his master for a long time and received plenty of meat, but one day he grew homesick, and he begged his master to give him a short holiday. The latter agreed, if the youth returned to his village and there persuaded his brother to go with him into the bush, and he gave him to Owuo.

In course of time the youth became hungry again and longed for the meat which Owuo had taught him to like so much. So one day he made up his mind to return to his master, and, leaving the village, he made his way back to the giant’s abode. The latter asked him what he wanted, and when the youth told him that he wanted to taste once more of the good meat, the giant bade him enter the hut and take as much as he liked, but added that he would have to work for him again.

The youth agreed and entered the hut. He ate as much as he could and went to work at the task which his master set him. The work continued for a ling time and the boy ate his fill every day. But, to his surprise, he never saw anything of his brother, and when ever he asked about him, the giant told him that the lad was away on business.

Once more the youth grew homesick and asked for leave to return to his village. The giant agreed on condition that he would bring a girl for him, Owuo, to wed. So the youth went home and there persuaded his sister to go into the bush and marry the giant. The girl agreed, and took with her a slave companion, and they all repaired to the giant’s abode. There the youth left the two girls and went back to the village.

It was not very long after that he again grew hungry and longed for a taste of the meat. So he made his way once more into the bush and found the giant. The latter did not seem over pleased to see the boy and grumbled at being bothered a third time. However, he told the boy to go into the inner chamber of his hut and take what he wanted. The youth did so and took up a bone which he began to devour. To his horror he recognized it at once as being the bone of his sister. He looked around at all the rest of the meat and saw that it was his sister and her slave girl.

Thoroughly frightened, he escaped from the house and ran back to the village. There he told the elders what he had done and the awful thing he had seen. At once the alarm was sounded and all the people went out into the bush to see for themselves the dreadful thing they had heard about. When they drew near to the giant they grew afraid at the sight of so evil a monster. They went back to the village and consulted among themselves what they had best do. At last it was agreed to go to Salga, where the end of the giant’s hair was, and set a light to it. This was done, and when the hair was burning well they returned to the bush and watched the giant.

Presently the latter began to toss about and to sweat. It was quite evident that he was beginning to feel the heat. The nearer the flames advanced, the more he tossed and grumbled. At last the fire reached his head and for the moment the giant was dead.

The villagers approached him cautiously, and the young man noticed magic powder which had been concealed in the roots of the giant’s hair. He took it and called the others to come and see what he had found. No one could say what power this medicine might have, but an old man suggested that no harm would be done if they sprinkled some of it on the bones and meat in the hut. This idea was carried out, and to the surprise of everyone, the girls and the boy at once returned to life.

The youth, who had still some of the powder left, proposed to out it on the giant. But at this there was a great uproar as the people feared Owuo might come to life again. The boy, therefore, by way of compromise, sprinkled it into the eye of the dead giant. At once the eye opened and the people fled in terror. But alas, it is from that eye that death comes, for every time that Owuo shuts that eye a man dies, and, unfortunately for us, he is forever blinking and winking.

[ KRACHI }

Once Long Ago, a daughter was born to Obassi Osaw, and a son to Obassi Nsi. When both of them had come to marriageable age, Nsi sent a message and said, “Let us exchange children. I will send my son that he may wed one of your girls, and you send your daughter down to my town, that she may become, my wife.”

To this Obassi Osaw agreed. So the son of Nsi went up to the heavens, carrying many fine gifts, and Ara, the sky maiden, came down to dwell on earth. With her came seven men slaves and seven women slaves whom her father gave to work for her, so that she should not be called upon to do anything herself.

One day, very early in the monring, Obassi Nsi said to his new wife, “Go, work on my farm!”

She sanswered, “My father gave me the slaves, so that they should work instead of me. Therefore seend them.”
Obassi Nsi was very angry and said, “Did you not hear that I gave my orders to you? You yourself shall work on my farm. As for the slaves, I will tell them what to do.”

The girl went, though very unwillingly, and when she returned at night, tired out, Nsi said to her, “Go at once to the river and bring water for the household.”

She answered, “I am weary with working on the farm. May not my slaves at least do this while I rest?”

Again Nsi refused and drove her forth, and she went backward and forward many times, carrying the heavy jars. Night had fallen long before she had brought enough.

The next morning Nsi made her do the must menial services, and all day long kept her at work, cooking, fetching water, and making fire. That night, again, she was very weary before she was allowed to lie down to rest. At dawn on the third morning Nsi said, “Go and bring in much firewood.” Now the girl was young and unused to work, so she went she wept, and the tears were still falling when she came back carrying her heavy burden.

As soon as Nsi saw her enter crying he called her. “Come here and lie down before me… I wish to shame you in the presence of all, my people.” Thereupon the girl wept still more bitterly.

No food was given her until midday on the morrow, and then not enough. When she had finished eating all there was, Nsi said to her, “Go out and bring in a great bundle of fish poison.”

The girl went into the bush to seek for the plant, but as she walked through the thick undergrowth a thorn pierced her foot. She lay down alone. All day long she lay there in pain, but as the sun sank she began to feel better. She got up and managed to limp back to the house.

When she entered, Nsi said to her, “Early this morning I ordered you to go and collect fish poison. You have stayed away all day and done nothing.” so he drove her into the goat-pen, and said, “Tonight you shall sleep with the goats; you shall not enter my house.”

That night she are nothing. Early next morning one of the slaves opened the door of the goat pen and found the girl lying within with her foot all swollen and sore. She could not walk, so for five days she was left with the goats. After that her foot began to get better.

As soon as she could walk again, Nsi called her and said, “Here is a pot. Take it to the river and bring it back filled to the brim.”

She set out, but when she reached the waterside, she sat down on the bank and dipped her foot in the cool stream. She said to herself, “I will never go back; it is better to stay here alone.”

After a while one of the slaves came down to the river. He questioned her: “At dawn this morning you were sent to fetch water. Why have you not returned home?”

The girl said, “I will not come back.”

When the slave had left her she thought, “Perhaps he will tell them, and they will be angered and may come and kill me. I had better go back after all.” So she filled her pot and tried to raise it upon her head, but it was too heavy. Then she lifted it on to a tree trunk that lay by the side of the river and , kneeling beneath, tried to draw it in that way upon her head; but the pot fell and broke and , in falling, a sharp shard cut off one of her ears. The blood poured down from the wound, and she began to weep again, but suddenly thought,”My father is alive, my mother is alive; I do not know why I stay here with Obassi Nsi. I shall go back to my own father.”

Then she set out to find the road by which Obassi Osaw sent her to earth. She came to a high tree and from it saw a long rope hanging. She said to herself, “This is the way by which my father sent me.”

She caught the rope and began to climb. Before she had gone halfway she grew very very weary, and her sighs and tears mounted up to the kingdom of Obassi Osaw. Midway on her climb, she stayed and rested a while. Afterward she went on again.

After a long time she reached the top of the rope and found herself on the border of her father’s land. Here she sat down almost worn out with weariness, and still weeping

Now, one of the slaves of Obassi Osaw had been sent out to collect firewood. He chanced to stay from his oath and came to a place near where the girl was resting. He heard her sobs mixed with broken words and ran back to the town, crying out, “I have heard the voice of Ara. She is weeping about a mile from here.”

Obassi heard but could not believe, yet he said, “Take twelve slaves, and, should you find my daughter as you say, bring her home.”

When her father saw her coming he called out, “Take her to the house of her mother.”

There she was resting, Obassi killed a young kid and sent it to Akun, bidding her to prepare it for his daughter. Akun took it and, after she had washed it, cooked it whole in a pot. Obassi also sent a great bunch of plantains and other fruits, and these, too, were arranged in orderly fashion upon a table before the girl. Then they poured water into a gourd and brought palm wine in native cup, and bade her to drink.

After she had eaten and drunk, Obassi came with four slaves carrying a great chest made of ebony. He bade them set it before her, opened it and said, “Come here; choose anything you will from this box.”

Ara chose two pieces of cloth, three gowns, four small loincloths, four looking glasses, four spoons, two pairs of shoes, four cooking pots, and four chins of beads.

After this Obassi Osaw’s storekeeper, named Ekpenyon, came forward and brought her twelve anklets. Akun gave her two gowns, a fufu stick, and a wooden knife.

Her own mother brought her five gowns, richer than all the rest, and five slaves to wait upon her.

After this Obassi Osaw said, “A house has been made ready for you; go there that you may be its mistress.”

Then he went out and called together the members of the chief society of the town. This was named Angbu. He said to the men, “Go, fetch the son of Obassi Nsi. Cut off both his ears and bring them to me. Then flog him and drive him down the road to his father’s town, with this message from me: ‘I had built a great house up here in my town. In it I placed your son and treated him kindly. Now that I know what you have done to my child, I send your son back to you earless, in payment for Ara’s ear and the suffering which you put upon her.'”

When the Angbu society had cut off the ears of the son of Obassi Nsi, they brought them before Obassi Osaw and drove the lad back on the earthward road, as they had been ordered.

Osaw took the ears and made a great juju, and by reason if this a strong wind arose, and drove the boy earthward. On its wings it bore all the sufferings of Ara and the tears which she had shed through the cruelty of Obassi Nsi. The boy stumbled along, half blinded by the rain, and as he went he thought, “Obassi Osaw may do to me what he chooses. He has never done any unkind thing before. It is only in return for my father’s cruelty that I must suffer all this.”

So his rears mixed with those of Ara and fell earthward as rain.

Until that time there had been no rain on the earth. It fell for the first time when Obassi Osaw made the great wind and drove forth the son of his enemy.

[ EKOI ]

EBOPP, the LEMUR, and MBAW, the dormouse, were making a tour in the bush. They looked for a good place to make a farm. When they found one, they cut down the trees and took two days to clear enough ground. After this, they went back to the town where the other animals lived.

The next morning Ebopp said, “Let us go to our new farms and build a small house.”

They did. Ebopp made his, and Mbaw his.

Now, before a new town is begun, a little shed called ekpa ntan is always made where the Egbo house is to stand. Ebopp and Mbaw accordingly set to work and built an ekpa ntan. Then they went back to their old town and rested for two days.

On the third day they went to work again. Ebopp worked on his farm, Mbaw on his. That night they slept in the huts they had built and at dawn started to work once more. When night came, Ebopp lighted a lamp and said:

“I do not want to sleep here. If we sleep here we shall sleep hungry. Let us go back to our old town.”

When they got there their wives cooked for them. Ebopp said to Mbaw, “Come and join together with me in eating.” So his friend came and ate with him.

Afterwards Mbaw said, “Let us now go to my house and have food there too.” So they went tither.

After they had eaten all that Mbaw had cooked, Ebopp went home.

The next morning he went to call for his friend and said, “Go and get young plantains to plant on the farm.” Both of them collected a great basketful and went to the place where the new farms were – Ebopp to his, and Mbaw to his. They worked hard.

At midday, Ebopp said, “Let us rest a little while and eat the food we have brought.” To this Mbaw agreed, and after some time they set to work again.

About five o’clock Ebopp called, “Let us go back now to the old town, for it is very far off.”

So they left off working and went back, but before they could get there night fell.

The next morning they took more young plantains and, again, worked hard all day. When it was time to go back, Ebopp asked, “How many of the young plantains remain to be planted?”

Mbaw answered, “About forty.”

Whereupon Ebopp said, “Of mine also there remain about forty.”

At dawn, the next day, they went to their old farms to get some more plantain cuttings. Then they went back to the new farms and began planting.

As soon as Ebopp had finished, he said, “I have finished mine>”

To this Mbaw replied, “Mine also are finished.”

Ebopp said, “My work is done. I need come here only for the harvest.”

They they both went back to their old town and told their wives. “We have finished setting out the plantains. We hope that you will go and plant koko-yams tomorrow. Try, both of you, to get baskets full of koko-yams for the planting.”

To this the women agreed and, when they had collected as many as were necessary, they set out for the new farms.

When they arrived, Mbaw’s wife asked the wife of Ebopp, “Do you think we can finish planting all these today?”

Ebopp’s wife answered, “Yes, we can do it.”

All day they worked hard, and at night they went home and said, “We have finished planting all the koko-yams.”

Ebopp said, “Good, you have done well.”

Now the name of Ebopp’s wife was Akpan Anwan. She and her sister, Akandem, were the daughters of Obassi Osaw. When she got home she started to cook the evening meal for her husband. As soon as it was ready, she placed it upon the table, set water also in a cup, and laid spoons near by.

They were eating together when a slave named Umaw ran in. He had just come from the town of Obassi Osaw. He said, “I would speak to Ebopp alone.” When Akpan Anwan had left the room, the messenger said, “You are eating, but I bring you news that Akandem your sister-in-law is dead.”

Ebopp cried out aloud in his grief and sent a messenger to call his friend Mbaw.

As soon as the latter heard, he came running and said, “What can we do? We are planting new farms and beginning to build a new room. There is hardly any food to be got. How then can we properly hold the funeral customs?”

Ebopp said, “Nevertheless, I must try my best.”

When Umaw got ready to return, Ebopp said, “Say to Obassi Osaw, ‘Wait for me for six days, then I will surely come.”

The next morning he said to Mbaw, “Come now, let us do our utmost to collect what is necessary for the rites of my sister-in-law.”

They went through the town and bought all the food which they could find. Then Ebopp went back and said to his wife, “I did not wish to tell you before about the death of your sister, but today I must tell you. Make ready. In five days’ time I will take you to your father’s town to hold the funeral feast.”

Akpan Anwan was very grieved to hear of this and wept.

Ebopp said to Mbaw, “We must get palm wine for the feast, also rum for the libations. How can we get these? I have no money, and you also have none.

Mbaw said, “Go round among the town folks and see if any of them will lend you some.”

Ebopp said, “Good!” He then began to walk up and down, begging from all his friends, but none would give to him, although it was a big town. At last he went down to the place where they were making palm oil by the river. Quite nearby lived Iku, the water chevrotain. Ebopp told him his trouble and begged help, but Iku said, “I am very sorry you, but I have nothing to give.”

Ebopp was quite discouraged by now and, full of sorrow, turned to go away. When Iku saw this he said:

“Wait a minute, there is one thing I can do. You know that I have ‘four eyes.’ I will give you two of them, and with them you can buy all that you need.”

From out of his head he took the two eyes with which he had to see in the dark. They shone so brightly that Ebopp knew they were worth a great price. He took them home and showed them to his wife and his friend Mbaw.

The latter said, “From today you are freed from all anxiety. With those you can buy all that is needed.”

The next morning they gathered together all that had been collected, the plantains and the two shining eyes. Ebopp. Mbaw, and Akpan carried the loads between them. They set out for the dwelling place of Obassi Osaw.

When they arrived at the entrance of the town, Akpan Anwan began to weep bitterly. She threw down her burden and ran to the spot where her sister lay buried. Then he went back and got his wife’s load which she had left behind.

The townsfolk said to Ebopp, “You have come to keep your sister-in-law’s funeral customs today. Bring palm wine. Bring rum also for the libations, and let us hold the feast.”

Ebopp said, “I have brought nothing but plantains. All else that is necessary I mean to buy here.”

Now there was a famine in Obassi Osaw’s town, so Ebopp put all of his plantains in the Egbo House. The next day he sent a message to Obassi Osaw to bring his people. so that the food might be divided among them. Each man received one plantain.

Then Osaw said, “All that you have brought is eaten. Of you cannot give us more, you shall not take my daughter back with you to your country.”

Ebopp went to find his friend and told him what Obassi had said.

“Shall I see the two eyes?” he asked. “They are worth hundreds and hundreds of plantains and many pieces of cloth, but if I sell them now, the people are so hungry they will give a small price.”

Mbaw said, “Do not mind. See, I will teach you how to get more sense.

“You hold me one in your hand, and it is a big thing like a great shining stone; but if you put it in a mortar and grind it down, it will become, not one, but many stones, and some of the small pieces you can sell.”

This Ebopp did. He ground up the geat bright stones which had been Iku’s eyes until they become like shining sand.

Then Ebopp and Mbaw went and procured a black cap which they filled with the fragments.

Mbaw said, “Now go and look the town till you find someone who can sell what we need.”

Ebopp did so, and in the house of Effion Obassi he saw great stores hidden – food and palm wine, palm oil in jars, and run for the sacrifice.

Ebopp said to Effion, “If you will sell all this to me, I will give you in exchange something which will make all the town folk bow down before you.”

Effion said, “I will not sell all, but half of what I have I will sell you.”

So Ebopp said, “Very well. I will take what you give me, only do not open the thing I shall leave in exchange until I have returned to my own country. When you do open it, as I said before, all the town folk will bow down before you.”

So the funeral feast was prepared, and the people were satisfied.

When the rites were finished, Obassi said, “It is good. You can go away now with your wife.”

So Ebopp said to Mbaw and Akpan Anwan, “Come, let us go back to our own town. We must not sleep here tonight.”

When they had reached home once more, Ebopp sent a salve named Eder to Effion Obassi with the message:

“You may now open the cap. I have reached my town again.”

It was evening time, nut Effion at once called the townspeople together and said, “I have a thing here which is worth a great price.”

They cried, “Let us see it.”

He answered, “My thing is a very good thing, such as you have never seen before.

He brought the cap outside and opened it before them. All the shining things fell out. As they fell, a strange breeze came and caught them and blew them all over town. They lay on the road and on the floors of the compounds, each like a little star.

All the children came round and began picking them up. They gathered and gathered. In the daytime they could not see them, but every night they went out and sought for the shining things. All that they picked up they put in a box. At length many had been gathered together and they shone like a little sun in the box. At the end of about a month nearly all had been collected. They could not shut down the lid, however, because the box was too full, so when a great breeze came by it blew all the shining things about again. That is why sometimes we have a small moon and plenty of stars shining around it, while sometimes we have a big moon and hardly any stars are to be seen. The children take a month to fill the box again.

When the sparkles were scattered about the town, Effion sent a messeneger to Ebopp to ask: “Can you see the things shining from you town?”

At the time earth and sky were all joined together, like a house with an upstairs.

Ebopp went out and looked upward to the blue roof overhead. There he saw the small things sparkling in the darkness.

The next day he went to Iku and said, “Will you please do into a deep hole? I want to look at your eyes.”

Iku went inside the hole. Ebopp looked at his eyes. They were very bright, just like the sparkles which shone in the sky.

The cause of all the stars, therefore, is Enbopp, who took Iku’s eyes to Obassi’s town.

Iku’s eyes are like the stars.

The moon shines when all the fragments are gathered together. When it shine most brightly it it because the children have picked up nearly all the fragments and put them into the box.

[ EKOI ]

,

The son of the wind was once a man. When he was he used to go shooting and to roll a ball but later he became a bird and flew, no longer walking as he used to do when he was a man. When he had changed into a bird, he flew up and dwelt in a mountain hole. The mountain hole was his dwelling, and out of it he would fly every day and later on, return. In this hole he slept and, awakening in the morning, he would leave in order to seek food. He sought it everywhere and he ate, ate, ate, until he had his full. Then he would return to his mountain hole to sleep.

But when he was rolling his ball, he called out to Nakati, “Nakati, there it goes!” And Nakati exclaimed, “O comrade, truly there it goes!” He called him comrade because he didn’t know the other’s name. Yet it was truly he who is the wind, who had said, “Nakati, there it goes!”

Not knowing his name, however, Nakati went to his mother to question her. “Mother,” he said, “do tell me the name of our comrade over there. He calls me by my name but I do not know his and I would like to know it when I am rolling the ball back to him.”

“No, I will not at this moment tell you his name, that I will only do and let you utter it after Father has made a strong shelter for our hut. And Then, when I tell you his name, the moment I have uttered it, you must at once scamper away and run home, so that you can seek the shelter of the hut.”

Again Nakati went over to play with his campion and to roll the ball. When they had finished, Nakati again went once more to question his mother, and she exclaimed, “He is erriten-kuan, he is gau-gaubu-ti!”

The next day Nakati again went to roll the ball with his companion. He did not, however, utter his playmate’s name, for his mother had cautioned him to be silent on that matter, even when he was called by name. She had said, “When the time comes for you to utter his name, you must run hime at once.”

Now once more Nakati went to roll the ball with his friend, hoping and hoping that his father would finally finish making the shelter for their hut. At last he saw that his father sat down, that he had indeed finished. Therefore, when he held this, he exclaimed, “There it goes, O erriten-kuan! There it goes, O Gau-gaubu-ti!” No sooner had he uttered it than he scampered away and ran home. His companion thereupon began to lean over, and then fall down. As he lay there he kicked violently upon the vlei. As he kicked, huts blew away, bushes vanished and the people could not see because of the dust. Thus was the wind blowing.

When the mother of the wind came out of her hut to grab him and set him on his feet again, he struggled with her for he wished to continue to lie down. However his mother took hold of him firmly and set him on his feet.

And so, because of all this, we who are Bushmen are wont say, “The wind seems to be lying down, for it is blowing fiercely. When the wind stands on its feet then it is quiet and still. Thus it acts. This noise it makes comes from its knee; that is what makes the sound. I had wished that it might blow gently for us, that we might go out, that we might ascend the place yonder, that we might behold the river bed yonder, standing behind the hill. For we have driven the springbok from this place. They have gone to yonder dry river bed standing behind the hill.”

[ BUSHMEN ]

The sky-god begat three children, who were Esum (Darkness), Osrane (Moon), and Owia (Sun). When his three children grew up, the sky-god made them go to separate villages. The first one built his village, the second one also built his village, and the third one, he too, built his village. And there they lived.

Now their father loved Sun most. And while the sky-god was reigning there, he blackened a stool and said to his attendants, “Who knows what my thoughts are?” Ananse, the spider, said, “As for me, I know them.” At the time when he said, “As for me, I know them,” the sky-god made all the attendants rise up. There and then the spider also rose up, saying he was going to the village of the sky-god’s children.

When Ananse reached the path, he said to himself, “I do not know his thoughts and yet I said, ‘I know them.’ ” And he plucked some feathers out of every bird, stuck them on himself and flew off, alighting on a gyedua tree in the sky-god’s village. And when the people saw the bird, they all made a great commotion which sounded like “Y-e-e-e-e!”

And the sky-god came out of the house and came under the gyedua tree and said, “Were Ananse here, he would have known the name of this bird. I had decided that Owia, Sun, is the one I wanted to make a chief, so I asked who knew what was in my head and Ananse said that he did. Now I have gone and pulled up the yam known as ‘Kintinkyi,’ and he who knows its name and utters it, to him I shall give it, my blackened stool. That is why Ananse has gone off to bring my children. Had he been here, he would have known the name of this bird.

Then the bird flew off, and Ananse pulled out the feathers and threw them away, and set out till he reached the village of Night. To Night he said, “Your father said that you must come with me.” And Night replied, “It is well, I and you will go.” Then Ananse said, “I am going on to fetch Moon and Sun.” But Night said to him, “Let me first seek for something to give you to eat.” Spider replied, “Ho!” Night thereupon went out and brought some roasted corn and gave it to Ananse. When he had finished chewing it, he set out for Moon’s village. When he reached it, he said, “Your father says you must came along with me.” And Moon replied, “It is well, I shall go.”

How did it happen? A wife was pregnant, shoe bore a child, Moon, to begin with. She returned, became pregnant again, and this time bore Sun. Far in the wilderness was a man, and he had a pretty daughter.

Sun and Moon grew up and one day went for a stroll. In the wilderness they came upon the pretty daughter, and they asked her, “Where have you got your house? We live in that wilderness,” they said to the girl. “Show us exactly where you live.”

She replied to them, “We live in that wilderness. And there a great many dangerous animals.”

Moon, the elder one of the brothers, said to the girl, “Do you like us? Shall we woo you?”

She said to them, “Yes, I am capable of liking you but may not.”

Sun then asked, “Who is it that does not like us?”

She said, “It is my father.”

Moon said to the girl, “Well, then, we shall wait for two days, and on the third we shall come to your village. We shall send our father’s children.”

They waited for two days, and on the third they sent the children, then they started out for the wilderness. And when they were quite close, they caught sight of the girl far off at the other edge of the jungle. They went to meet her and asked her, “Well, where is your village?”

She said, “Our village is here in the wilderness.”

They asked her, “I, I! Are there people that live in the place where is no hut?”

She said, “Yes, we live in the wilderness, we have no hut.”

They said, “We wish that you would show us where you live.”

The girl said, “All right, then.” And she went on ahead to show them the way.

A big snake then appeared. Sun and Moon said, “Let us not be afraid!” They were not frightened, but went along on their way. When they had got as far as the foot of a certain tree, they found a number of snakes confronting them; but they went farther along and came upon a place full of hairs like horsehair, forming a sort of darkness before them. Nowhere were they able to see any path to take.

Sun said to the girl, “You! Have you brought us here so we should die at your place?”

She said to them, “No, but we have not yet arrived at our village.”

And he, Moon, said to Sun, “Brother Sun, what are we to do now?” They said to the girl, “Tell us if you like us, and whether we are to woo you? We now wish to return home.”

They girl said to them, “Go, and come back the day after tomorrow!”

They went away and returned home.

They reached their home. And Moon loved the girl very much, more than Sun did. The following morning Sun went to herd their father’s cattle, and Moon hid himslef from Sun and went alone into the wilderness to seek the girl and take her to wife.

When he had got there, someone said to him, “Who is it?”

He said, “It is I”

He was asked, “Who are you?”

He answered, “It is I, Moon.”

He was asked, “Whither are you going?

He said, “I am coming hither.”

The other one asked him, “From where have you come?”

Moon said to him, “I come from our village.” And he added, “And you, what are you doing here?”

“I am not doing anything in particular,” said the stranger.

And I, neither am I doing anything in particular – I am just out for a walk,” answered Moon.

The other asked him again, “Why have you come here?”

“Not for anything special.”

The other mad said to him, “I, I? Not for anything special?”

Moon replied, “I, I! I did not come here for anything special! I have come here without any purpose.”

The strange man said, “Why do you ask me what I am seeking, but conceal and refuse to reveal your own business?”

Then Moon was frightened and said to himself, “I do not know these people, and they do not know me. I will return home!”

He returned home and said to Sun, “Brother, when I left you I saw a lot of queer things.”

Sun said to Moon, “Well, lets go some day and you shall show me those things; just now I am busy tending cattle.’

Their mother said to them, “Go ye and find the girl, I will do the hearding.”

They went, and when they got to the wilderness, they saw swords appearing. They fought against the sword but saw no human being. The swords disappeared, and they went on farther and saw trees which grew so densely before them the there was no path. Sun drew his sword and cut down some threes. The trees then disappeared altogether, and they did not see them again. They went farther ahead altogether, and they did not see them again. That went farther ahead and came to a pond; they were close to it. They saw teeth coming up out of the interior of the pond. They approached quite near. Two teeth passed right between them, one passed them to the left and another to t he right. Moon fell back behind Sun; he was frightened.

Sun said to him, “I, I Moon! Are you afraid? You are the elder one, go on ahead, let us walk on!”

“Yes, let us go on then! We are equally brave.”

Then teeth returned into the pond, and Sun and Moon walked on. When they had not got very far, they saw hairs coming up out of the pond. Moon looked at the girl’s father, for it was he, and said to Sun, “My brother, here we shall perish!”

“It cannot be helped!”

The hairs returned, however, into the pond. When they had got close to the pond, again Sun sat down on a tree at the edge of the pond together with Moon. The beard of the girl’s father came up to them but returned into the pond. Bones of dead people came up.

Moon said, “Oh! I am dying!” and suddenly he ran away.

Sun was left behind, alone there, sitting on the tree. The water rose, part of it came on one side of him and part of it on the other; it flowed all around him. He was sitting in the midst of the water, which presently returned to the pond. Sun did not budge from the spot. The water, however, returned to the river. Then smoke rose up out of the water. Sun said, to himself, “I do not intend to die here, although my brother got frightened and ran away. I am going to remain, so that I may see the girl” The smoke ceased, and the water flamed like fire. The fire, however, soon went out.

After that there came out of the water a human being – it was the girl! She came and took the young man by the hand and said to him, “Now we will go home to our place, and I shall give you food.”

The girl said to the pond, “Get out of the way for this man! I am going to cook food for him.” The water drew off the side of the pond, went over to one side.

The girl went and cooked food which she brought and gave the young man, and he ate. She said to him:

“I, it is you that is to take me to wife, because you are a man who is not afraid of anything. And you, now you are my husband because you are not afraid of all the things that were shown you, but your elder brother ran away.”

Then the girl’s father said to Sun, “Take the girl. When you have gone home you are to tarry there with her for five days, and then you yourself and your father are to bring the girl back here!

They started off. Moon had returned and sat down in the compound. He had a sword, and he said, “When Sun comes along with that girl, I shall kill him.”

Then the girl approached, and Sun was walking in the front of her. They came and found that Moon was in the compound. They asked him, “Moon, is there anyone at home in our village?”

“Sun, come here!”

Sun carried a sword. He went forward, and sat down. The mother came out and Sun said to her, “Mother, go and take the girl and conduct her into the village!”

The mother asked him, “This girl, is it you that have taken her to wife, or is it Moon?”

“She is my wife, Moon ran away.” Sun repeated: “Moon ran away.”

The latter grasped his sword. Sun looked up and saw the sword quite close to him, for Moon gave him a cut. And he, Sun, who also carried his sword, slapped Moon, and they fought. Sun was badly cut by Moon.

The mother cried a great deal. She took millet and all kinds of provisions and spoilt them for Moon. And she threw millet and all the other foodstuffs on the fire, saying, “You, Moon, have damaged Sun in this way. May you be destroyed in the same way! And the mother took some milk, and she and her husband poured it into a calabash bowl with millet and beer. Thereupon they blessed Sun, that he would shine brightly for mankind. The girl remained on in the village as Sun’s wife, but Moon had no wife, and he who had formerly been more brilliant than Sun no longer was so.

Ever since that time and even now Moon avoids Sun; they will not agree to approach each other at the same fire, nor to eat food together. When Sun goes down, Moon comes out; when Sun comes out of the village, Moon rapidly runs away. Is not that a curse? Moon has become small, and Sun has become big.

[ AKAMBA ]

When Kintu came first to Ugnada he found there was no food at all in the country. He brought with him one cow and had only the food with which the animal supplied him. In the course of time a woman named Nambi came with her brother to the earth and saw Kintu. The woman fell in love with him and, wishing to be married to him, pointedly told him so. She had to return, however, with her brother to her people and her father, Gulu, who was king of the sky.

Nambi’s relations objected to the marriage because they said that the man did not know of any food except that which the cow yielded, and they despised him. Gulu, the father, however, said that they had better test Kintu before he consented to the marriage, and he accordingly sent someone to rob Kintu of his cow. For a time Kintu was at a loss what to eat, but he managed to find different kinds of herbs and leaves which he cooked and ate. Nambi happened to see the cow grazing and recognized it, and complaining that her brothers wished to kill the man she loved, she went to the earth and told Kintu where his cow was, and invited him to return with her to take it away.

Kintu consented to go, and when he reached the sky he was greatly surprised to see how many people there were with houses and with cows, goats, sheep, and fowls running about. When Nambi’s brothers saw Kintu sitting with their sister at her house, they went and told heir father testing to see whether he was worthy of their sister. An enormous meal was cooked, enough food for a hundred people, and brought to Kintu, who was told that unless he ate it all he would be killed as an impostor. Failure to eat it, they said, would be proof that he was not the great Kintu. He was then shut up in a house and left alone.

After he had eaten and drunk as much as he could, he was at a loss to know what to do with the rest of the food. fortunately, he discovered a deep hole in the floor of the house, so he turned all the food and beer into it and covered it over so that no one could detect the place. He then called the people outside to come and take away the baskets. The sons of Gulu came in, but would not believe that he eaten all the food. They, therefore, searched the house but failed to find it.

They went to their father and told him that Kintu had eaten all the food. He was incredulous, and said that Kintu must be further tested. A copper axe was sent to Kintu by Gulu, who said, “Go and cut me firewood from the rock, because I do not use ordinary firewood.”

When Kintu went with the axe, he said to himself, “What am I to do? If I strike the rock, the axe will only turn its edge or rebound.” However, after he had examined the rock, he found that there were cracks in it, so he broke off pieces of it, and returned with them to Gulu who was surprised to get them. Nevertheless, he said that Kintu must be further tried before they could give their consent to the marriage.

Kintu was next sent to fetch water and was told that he must bring only dew, because Gulu did not drink water from wells. Kintu took the water-pot and went off to a field, where he put the pot down and began to ponder what he must do to collect the dew. He was sorely puzzled, but upon returning to the pot, he found it full of water. So he carried it back to Gulu. Gulu was most surprised and said, “This man is a wonderful being; he shall have his cow back and marry my daughter.

Kintu was told to pick his cow from the herd and take it. This was a more difficult task than the others, because there were so many cows like his own that he feared he would mistake it and take the wrong one. While he was thus perplexed a large bee came and said, “Take the one upon whose horns I shall alight; it is yours.”

The next morning Kintu went to the appointed place and stood and watched the bee, which was resting on a tree near him. A large herd of cows was brought before him, and he pretended to look for his cow, but in reality he was watching the bee which did not move. After a time, Kintu said, “My cow is not there.” A second herd was brought, and the bee at once flew away and rested upon a cow which was a very large one, and Kintu said, “This is my cow.” The bee then flew to another cow, and Kintu said, “This is one of the calves from my cow,” and the bee went on to a second and a third cow which Kintu claimed as the calves which had been born during the cow’s stay with Gulu.

Gulu was delighted with Kintu and said, “You are truly Kintu, take your cows. No one can deceive or rob you, you are too clever for that.” He called Nambi and said to Kintu, “Take my daughter who loves you, marry her, and go back to your home.” Gulu further said, “You must hurry and go back before Walumbe, or Death, comes, because he will want to go with you and you must not take him; he will only cause you trouble and unhappiness.”

Nambi agree to what her father said and went to pack up her things. Kintu and Nambi then took leave of Gulu, who said, “Be sure, if you have forgotten anything, not to come back, because Death will want to go with you and you must go without him.”

They started off home, taking with them, besides Nambi’s things and the cows, a goat, a sheep, a fowl, and a plantain tree. On the way Nambi remembered that she had forgotten the grain for the for the fowl, and she said to Kintu, “I must go back for the grain for the fowl, or it will die.”

Kintu tried to dissuade her, but in vain. She said, “I will hurry back and get it without anyone seeing me.”

He said, “Your brother Death will be on the watch and will see you.”

She would not listen to her husband, but went back and said to her father, “I have forgotten the grain for the fowl, and I have come to take it from the doorway where I put it.”

He replied, “Did I not tell you that you were not to return if you forgot anything, because your brother Walumbe would see you and want to go with you?” Now he will accompany you.”

Nambi tried to steal away without Walumbe, but he followed her. When she rejoined Kintu, he was angry at seeing Walumbe, and said, “Why have you brought your brother with you? Who can live with him?”

Nambi was sorry, so Kintu said, “Let us go and see what happen.”

When they reached the earth Nambi planted her garden, and the plantains grew rapidly, and she soon had a large plantain grove in Manyagalya. They lived happily for some time and had a number oif children, until one day Walumbe asked kintu to send one of the children to be his cook.

Kintu replied, “If Gulu comes and asks me for one of my children, what am I to say to him? Shall I tell him that I have given her to be your cook?”

Walumbe was silent and went away, but he again asked for a child to be his cook, and again Kintu refused to send one of his daughters, so Walumbe said, “I will kill them.”

Kintu, who did not know what he meant, asked, “What is it that you will do?” In a short time, however, one of the children fell ill and died, and from that time they began to die at intervals.

Kintu returned to Gulu and told him about the deaths of the children, and accuse Walumbe of being the cause. Gulu replied, “Did I not tell you when you were going away to go at once with your wife and not return if you had forgotten anything? But you allowed Nambi to return for grain. Now you have Walumbe living with you. Had you obeyed me you would have been free of him and would not have lost any of your children.”

After some further entreaty, Gulu sent Kaikuzi, another brother, to assist Nambi, and to prevent Walumbe from killing the children. Kaikuzi went to the earth with Kintu and was met by Nambi, who told him her pitiful story. He said he would call Walumbe and try to dissuade him from killing the children. When Walumbe came to greet his brother they had quite a warm and affectionate meeting, and Kintu told him he had come to take him back, because their father wanted him.

Walumbe said, “Let us take our sister too.”

But Kintu said he was not sent to take her, because she was married and had to stay with her husband. Walumbe refused to go without his sister, and Kaikuzi was angry with him and ordered him to do as he was told. Death, however, escaped from Kaikuzi’s grip and fled away into the earth.

For a long time there was enmity between the two brothers. Kaikuzi tried in every possible way to catch his brother Walumbe, but he always escaped. At last Kaikuzi told the people to remain in their houses for several days and not to let any of the animals out, and he would have a final hunt for Walumbe. He further told them that if they saw Walumbe they must not call out or raise the usual cry of fear.

The instructions were followed for two or three days, and Kaikuzi got his brother to come out of the earth and was about to capture him, when some children took their goats to the pasture and saw Walumbe and called out. Kaikuzi rushed to the spot and asked why they called, and they said they had seen Death. Kaikuzi was angry, because Walumbe had again gone into the earth. So he went to Kintu and told him he was tired of hunting Death and wanted to return home. He also complained that the children had frightened Walumbe into the earth again. Kintu thanked Kaikuzi for his help and said he feared nothing more could be done, and he hoped Walumbe would not kill all the people.

Form that time Death has lived upon the earth and killed people whenever he can, and then he escapes into the earth at Tanda in Singo.

[ BAGANDA ]

Once some children, at their mother’s behest, very gently approached the sun’s armpit. As the sun lay sleeping. They went to lift up the sun’s armpit.

At the same time, another woman ordered her children to do the same thing. She told them that if they approached ever so gently and drew up the sun’s armpit, then the rice of the Bushmen would become dry, and the sun, as it proceeded from place across the sky, would cause everything to become bright. For this reason it was that the old woman, their mother, coaxed her children to do as she asked. “But, children,” she said, “you must wait for the sun, who is making us so cold, to lie down to sleep. Then approach him gently and, all together, lift him up and throw him into the sky.” Thus, indeed, did both of the old women speak.

And so the children approached the sun. They first sat down and looked at him in order to determine whether, as he lay there, he was looking at them. Finally they saw him lying there very quietly, his elbow lifted up so that his armpit shone upon the ground. Before the children prepared to throw him up into the sky they remembered what the old woman, their mother, had said: “O children, going yonder, you must speak to him when you throw him up. You must tell him that he must be the sun – the sun who is hot and who, as he passes along the sky, causes the Bushmen rice to become dry – the sun who is hot as he stands above in the sky.”

Thus had their mother, the old woman, whose head was white, spoken. They had listened and were going to obey her.

When all was in readiness, they took hold of the sun, all of them together, lifted him, raised him, even though he was hot to touch, and threw him up in the sky, addressing him as they threw him up: “O sun, you must altogether stand fast and you must proceed along your way – you must stand fast while you are hot.”

Then the children returned to their mother, and one of them went to her and said, “Our companion, who is here, this one, took hold of him. So did I. Then my younger brother and my still younger brother, they all took hold of him. ‘Grasp hold of him firmly,’ I said, ‘and throw him up. Grasp the old man firmly and throw him up.’ Thus I spoke to them. Then the children threw him up, the old man, the sun.”

Then another one of those who had been resent – a younger indeed – he also spoke to her and said, “Oh, grandmother, we threw him up, the sun, and we told him what you had told us, that he should altogether become the sun, the sun who is hot, for us who are cold. And we addressed him thus: ‘O my grandfather, sun’s armpit! Remain there at that place. Because the sun who is hot so that the Bushmen rice may dry for us, so that you may make the whole earth light, that the earth may become warm in the summer, that you may altogether make heat. For the reason, you must shine everywhere. You must take away the darkness. You must come indeed so that the darkness will go away.'”

And thus it is. The sun comes, the darkness departs; the sun sets, the darkness comes and, then, at night the moon comes. The moon comes out; it brightens the darkness and the darkness then departs. It has taken the darkness aways and now it moves along, continually brightening the darkness. And the the moon sets and the sun, following, comes out. The sun now drives away the darkness, indeed drives away the moon as it stands there. The sun actually pierces the moon with his knife and that is why it decays. Therefore the moon said, “O sun! leave the backbone for the children!” And the sun did so.

Then the moon painfully went away painfully returned home. He went home to become another, a moon which is whole. He again comes to life although is had seemed that he had died. He becomes a new moon and feels as though he had put on a new stomach. He becomes large; he is alive again. Then he goes along as night, feeling that he is the moon once more. Indeed he feels he is a shoe, the shoe that Mantis threw into the sky, and ordered to become the moon.

That is what the sun has done – made all the earth bright. And thus it is that the people walk while the earth is light. Then people can see the bushes, can we see other people. They can see the meat which they are eating. They can see the springbok, can hunt it in summer. It is when the sun shines, like wise, that they can hunt the ostrich. And so – because the sun brightens the earth, because he shines upon the path of men – the Bushmen steal up to the gemsbok, steal up to the kudu, travel about in summer, and go visiting one another. Because the sun shines hottest upon the path of men in summer, they always go shooting and hunting then, for they are certain to espy the springbok. It is in the summer that they lie contented in their little homes made of bushes, and they scratch up the earth. All day they do when the springbok comes.

The people of whom we speaking were the Bushmen, the men of the early race. It is they who first inhabited this earth and it was their children who worked with the sun, who threw the sun up and made him ascend so that he might warm the earth for them, and that they might be able to sit in the sun.

The sun, they say, was originally a man who lived on earth. In the beginning, he gave forth brightness for a space just around his own dwelling. As his shining was confined to a certain space just at and around his own house, the rest of the country seemed as if the sky were very cloudy – as it looks now, in fact, when the sun is behind thick clouds. This shining came from one of the sun’s armpits as he lay with one arm lifted up. When he put down his arm, darkness fell everywhere; when he lifted it up again, it was as if day came. In the the day, the sun’s light used to be white, but at night, it was red like fire. When the sun was thrown up into the sky it became round and never was a man again.

The same is true of the moon. He too, was once a man who could talk. But today neither the sun nor the moon talk. They just live in the sky. Then Spider said, “I shall go on to Sun’s village in order to bring him. ” Hut Moon said, “Let me first get you something to eat.” And Spider replied, “Ho!” So Moon masked up some yam for him to eat. Then Spider set out for Sun’s village. When he reached Sun’s village, he said to him, “Your father says you must come along with me.” And Sun said, “It is well, I and you shall go, but let me get you something to eat first.” Spider replied, “Ho!” So Sun went and caught a sheep. When he came back, he said to Spider, “I would have wished, had my father come here, that he should have seen what I was doing; if it were good, or if it were bad, in either case he would have seen. Since, however, he has not come and you have come, it is as if father had come. Therefore here is this, my sheep, that I shall kill so you may eat.”

And he killed the sheep and prepared it beautifully for Spider to eat. After the meal Spider said, “Let us go on a fallen tree.” When they got there, Spider said to Sun, “Your father has blackened a stool at his home. He wishes you to succeed to that stool, so he has pulled up a yam and if you know its name, he will take the stool and give it to you. Now this yam is called ‘Terminus.’ And in order that you may not forget its name, I shall cut a shirt drum for you, and make a mpintini drum to go with it, so that when they beat the short drum and the mpintini drum then you will never forget this word, for the shirt drum will speak out and say:

‘Firi bomo!

Firi bomo!”

Then the mpintini drum will say:

‘Kintini bomo!

Kintini bomo!”

So they set off to go to the sky-god’s town. First they reached Moon’s village and took him along; then they reached Night’s village and took him along. All the way they played the mpintini drum. When they reached the outskirts of the town Spider saw a man, and he sent him off to tell the sky-god that they were coming. There upon the sky-god called on assembly together, and soon Spider and the others arrived and saluted every one. Spider now gave the spokesman the news, saying, “The chief’s errand on which I was sent I have performed; I have brought them.” And the sky-god said, “My children, the reason I caused you to be sent for this: I have blackened the stool standing there and I have also pulled up the yam over there. I shall now take this stool and give it to him who sees and names the yam. Because my eldest child is Night, let him try first.” Then Night said, “It is called ‘Pona.” And all the people shouted, “Y-e-e-e.” Again the sky-god spoke, “My second child is Moon, therefore let him give its name.” And moon said, “It is the yam called ‘Asnate.’ ” The people shouted, “Y-e-e-e-e.” Again the sky-god spoke, “My child, the third one, is Sun, therefore let him name it.”

Now’ I forgot to say that the dance music was going on:

“Kintnkyi Bomo!

Kintinkyi bomo!”

and Spider was turning cart-wheels.

Then Sun rose up and stood there, and took hold of the yam, and he said, “Oh, as for this, since ever I began to walk beside my father and was very small, he used to tell me its name, and I have not forgotten; it is called ‘Terminus” And the tribe shouted three times, “E!E!E!”

Then his father rose up and stood there and said, “You, Night, you are the eldest, but the words which I told you you have allowed yourself to forget, because you did not pay attention to my words. Because of this, it it now decreed that wicked things only will be done during your time. And you, Moon, the words with which you and I walked and I told you, you too did not follow. It is decreed therefore that only children will play during your reign. As for you, Sun, when I said words to you, you did not forget; you listened to my advice, so you are to be the chief. Should any one have any matter to settle, let it be heard in your time. Household cases. however, may be heard in the evening.

“So take the path which I have set you and if Zeno wishes to trespass upon it, may Diawerigne, the circular rainbow seen at times around the sun, throw itself around you, so that Moon may not be able to come and touch you. Again, if the rainclouds gather, the sky-god’s bow will be cast on the sky that your children who are under you may see when I have cast it so that the waters will not overflow and carry them away.

“One more thing. These words which were formerly known as the “Sayings of the Sky-God.” now since the spider, has been able to read these words in my head, let them be known henceforth as “The Sayings of Spider.”

[ ASHANTI ]

There once was a certain woman who bore eleven children. Every day when she got up and cooked food the children ate it all and the mother did not get any of it. She pondered long about the matter, and went off to the plantation and spoke to the silk-cotton tree, saying, “I shall send my eleven children to come beneath you here to pluck pumpkins; and when they come, pluck off eleven of your branches and kill those children of mine.”

The silk-cotton tree said, “I have heard, and I shall do it for you.”

The mother then went home and said to her children, “You must go to the plantation beneath the silk-cotton tree; there are pumpkins there. Go pick them and come back.”

The children set off. They went and reached the silk-cotton tree. Number Eleven said, “Number One, stand still; Number Two, stand still; Number Three, stand still; Number Four, stand still; Number Five, stand still; Number Six, stand still; Number Seven, stand still; Number Eight, stand still; Number Nine, stand still; Number Ten, Stand still; and I Number Eleven, I have stood still.”

Number Eleven then addressed them saying, “Do you not know the sole reason why Mother said we must go and pick pumpkins?”

His brother’s answered, “No.”

Thereupon he said, “She has told this silk-cotton tree that, when we go there, he must pluck off branches and beat us. Therefore all of you cut sticks and throw them against this silk-cotton tree.”

They cut the sticks and threw them against the silk-cotton tree. Pim! pen! pim! pen! was the sound they made. The silk-cotton supposed that the children had come. He took off eleven of his branches and let them fall to the ground. Little Number Eleven said, “You have seen – had we gone on there, the silk-cotton tree would have killed us.”

They picked up the pumpkins and took them to their mother. She cooked them. And at once the children had eaten all! Their mother said, “Ah! as for this matter, I cannot bear it! I shall take these children and give them to the sky-god.”

The next morning, when things became visible, she went and told the sky-god all about it, saying, “The children to whom I have given birth eat so fast and so much that when I wish to eat, I can’t get anything. Hunger is killing me. Therefore, I implore you, let the children be brought and killed, so that I may get something to eat.”

The sky-god said, “Is that really the case?”

The woman said, “I am speaking with a head, the inside of which is white.”

So the sky-god picked out messengers, and they went and dug a large pit in which they placed broken bottles. The sky-god himself went and fetched a snake and a leopard, put them in the pit, and covered it over. And now the messenger went to call the children.

No sooner did they reach the place where the pit lay, than Number Eleven said, “Number One, stand still; Number Two, stand still; Number Three, stand still; Number Four, stand still; Number Five, stand still; Number Six, stand still; Number Seven, stand still; Number Eight, stand still; Number Nine, stand still; Number Ten, stand still; and I myself Number Eleven, I have stood still. You must pass here, but you must not pass there.”

His brothers said, “Why, when a wide path lies there, must we pass through the bush?”

Now, as they were going along, they all carried clubs. Number Eleven said, “Throw one of these clubs upon this path.” They threw a club upon the path, and it fell through into the pit. Yiridi was the sound of its fall. Number Eleven said, “There you are! You see! Had we passed there, we should all of us have died.”

So they took a bypath and went off to meet the sky-god. The sky-god had caused holes to be dug, covered over, and stools placed upon them, so that when the children came to sit on them, they would fall into the holes. Soon the arrived before the face of the sky-god. Hep spoke to them: “Stools are set there. You may go and be seated upon them.”

Then Number Eleven siad, “Who are we that we should be able to sit upon such very beautiful stools? So, sire, we are going to sit aside here.”

Thereupon the sky-god gazed at the children and he said to himself, “I shall send the children to Death’s village.”

The next morning, when things became visible, he called the children and said, “You must go to Death who lives yonder and receive from her a golden pipe, a golden chewing-stick, a golden snuff box, a golden whetstone, and a golden fly-switch.”

Number Eleven said, “You are our master, wherever you will send us, we shall go.”

The sky-god said, “Be off!”

So the children set out for Death’s village. When they arrived there, Death said, “Why, when no one must ever come here, have. you come here?”

They replied, “We were roaming. about and came here quite by chance.” Death said, “Oh, all right then.”

Now Death had ten children. With herself, they made eleven. When things began to disappear – that is, when it became dark – Death divided up the children one by one and gave one to each of her children, while she herself and Number Eleven went to rest. When it was dark, Death then lit up her teeth until they shone red so that she might seize Number Eleven with them.

Number Eleven said, “Death, I must not yet asleep.”

Death said, “When will you be asleep?”

Number Eleven said, “If you were to give me a golden pipe to smoke for a while, then I might fall asleep.”

And Death fetched it for him.

A little while later, Death again lit up her teeth in order to go and seize Number Eleven with them.

Number Eleven said, “Death, I am not yet asleep.’

Death said, “When will you be asleep?”

Number eleven said, “If you were to bring me a golden snuff box, I might go to sleep.”

And Death brought it to him.

Again, soon afterward, Death was going to seize Number Eleven.

Number Eleven said, “I am not asleep.”

Death said, “When will you asleep?”

Number Eleven said, If you were to go and fetch golden chewing-stick for me so that I might chew it for a while, then I might fall asleep.”

Death fetched it for him, A short time passed, and Death was about to seize him.

Number Eleven said, “Grandmother, I am not yet asleep.”

And Death said, “Then when will you be asleep?”

Number Eleven said, “Grandmother, if you were to go and bring me a golden whetstone, then I might sleep.”

And Death went brought it. Again, soon afterward, Death rose up once more.

Number Eleven said, “Oh, Grandmother, I said I was not yet asleep.”

Death said, “And what will be the day when you will be asleep?”

Number Eleven said, “If you were to go and take a calabash full of holes and go and splash water in it and boil some food for me to eat, then I might sleep.”

Death lifted up a strainer and went off to the stream. When she slashed the water into it, the holes in the strainer let it pass through. Now Number Eleven said to his brothers, “Rise up and flee away.” Then they rose up and fled, and Number Eleven went and cut a plantain stems and placed them where his brothers had lain and took cloths and covered them over.

Now Death was at the stream splashing water. And Male Death called to Female Death, saying, “Ho thee, Death!”

She replied, “Adwo.“

He said, “What are you doing?”

She replied, “Alas, is it not some small child whom I have got! When I am about to catch him, he says, ‘I am not yet asleep.’ He has taken all my things, and now he says, I must take a strainer and splash water.”

Male Death said, “Ah, are you a small child? If you pluck leaves and line the inside of the strainer and then splash water, would it not be all right?”

Female Death said, “Oh, how true!”

She plucked leaves, placed them inside, and splashed the water and went off. Number Eleven said, “Death, you have come already? Boil the food.” Death cooked the food; she lit up her teeth in order to kill Number Eleven’s brothers and cook them for food. When she went, she did not examine them carefully, and she herself killed all her own children.

The next day, very, very early, when things became visible, Death rose up and sat there by the fired. Number Eleven said, “Grandmother, a tsetse fly is sitting on your breast.”

Death said, “Fetch the fly-switch which is lying there and kill it for me.”

Number Eleven saaid, “Good gracious me! A person of your consequence – when a tsetse fly settles on you and a golden fly-switch lies there – you would use this only thing! Let me fetch the golden fly-switch and come and kill it.”

Death said, “Go and fetch it from the room.”

Number Eleven went and brought it. He purposely drove the fly away; he didn’t kill it. Number Eleven said, “Oh, today, where this tsetse fly will rest, there I shall rest with him.”

The number Eleven went to the room and took his bag in which lay the golden pipe and all the things. He said, “Grandmother Death, nothing will suffice save that I get the tsetse fly, put it in this bag, and bring it to you.”

Number Eleven set off – yiridi! yiridi! yiridi! He reached the end of the town and siad, “Ho, there, Grandmother Death! Pardon my saying so but if you were not a perfect fool, could I have found a way to escape, and could I have made you also kill all your children? As for me, I am going off.”

Death said, “You, a child like this! Wherever you rest, there I shall rest!”

Number Eleven leaped off – yiridi! yiridi! yiridi! and death, too, went to chase him.

As Number Eleven was going, he overtook his brothers who were sitting on the path. They were making a bird-trap. Number Eleven said, “Have you not gone yet? Death is coming, so let us find some way to escape.”

Now Death came upon them. Number Eleven took medicine and poured it on his brothers, and they went on top of a silk-cotton tree. And Death stood at the foot of the silk-tree. She said, “Just now I saw those children, and where have they gone?

Number Eleven was sitting above. He said to his brothers, I am going to make water upon her.”

His brothers said, “E! she is seeking us to catch us, and we have fled and come and sit here and yet you say, ‘I am going to make water on her.'”

Number Eleven would not listen, and he made water over Death.

Death said, “Ah, there you are! Today you have seen trouble.” Death said, “You, child, who are sitting up there, Kyere–he-ne, Kyere-he-ne!” Thereupon one of the children fell down. “Kyere-he-ne!” a second one fell down. Soon there remained only Number Eleven.

Death said, “Child, Kyere-he-ne!” and Number Eleven leaped and descended on the ground, kirim! And Death then went on top of the silk-cotton tree.

Number Elven said, “You, great big woman, you too, Kyere-he-ne!”

And death, also, came down, tum! She was dead.

Number Elven went and plucked medicine, rolled it between his palms, and sprinkle it on his brothers, and they rose up. Number eleven was going to throw the medicine awaye, when some of it dropped on Death, and Death awoke. She said, “You have killed me, and you have also awakened me. Today you and I will have a chase.”

They they all started to run off at once, kiri! kiri! kiri! Now Death was chasing them. As they were going, there lay before them a big river in flood. When Number Eleven and his brothers reached it, the brothers knew how to swim and they swam across. Number Eleven alone did not know how to swim. The children stood on the other side; they cried and cried and cried; their mouths became swollen up. As for Number Eleven, he turned into a stone.

Death reached the river. She said, “Oh, these children! You stand there! Let me get a stone and hit your swollen mouths.” Death, when she looked down, saw a stone lying there. She picked it up and threw it. As the stone was travelling, it said, “Winds take me and set me on the other side.” It alighted on the other side. Number Eleven said, “Here I am!”

Death said, “Ah, that child! I have no further matter to talk to you about. All I have to say to you is this: Go and remain at home and change into one of the lesser gods, and, if anyone whom I wish to take comes to where you are, do you inform me. If I so desire, I will leave him and make you a present of him; but what I wish in exchange you must receive it for me.”

That is how the Komba, the lesser gods, came into the world. They are descended from the small child Number Eleven.

[ ASHANTI ]

Amon was married to Keti, the barn-door fowl, but after a while he took to himself four other wives. Keti, of course, retained her rights as head wife, and the other four wives obeyed her.

One day Amon called the four newcomers together and asked each one what present she would give in return for his raised her above other women in the tribe. The first one promised that she would always sweep his compound for him and keep the place neat and tidy; the second said she would always cook for him and never complain when there were many visitors; the third agreed to spin cotton for him and to bring him all the water he might require; and the fourth one said that she would bear him a child of gold.

This last promise pleased Amon, and every day he killed a sheep for this woman. But the child was long in coming. Just when Amon’s patience was giving out. the woman conceived, and Amon detailed Keti to tend and care for her.

So Keti took the woman into her hut and, when the time of delivery was at hand, Keti told her that, whatever else she did, she was to be sure to shut her eyes when the child was born and not to open them until she was told to do so. The woman obeyed, and Keti hurried out and brought back a big pot.

Now it happened that the woman bore twins. The first one to be born was made entirely of silver, and Keti at once took the babe and placed it in the pot. The second child of gold, and Keti placed it in the pot. The she hurried outside and found two frogs. Running with these, she placed them on the couch and then told the mother to open her eyes and see her children.

Then Keti hastened out of the hut with the pot and ran with it as fast as she could to the far, far bush, where she found a dead odum tree. There she hid the pot with the two babies and then returned swiftly to Amon’s compound, passing by his hut on the way. She told her husband that the children had been born and asked him to go with her to see his offspring.

Amon at once arose and went to the hut where the mother was lying. To his consternation and anger, he found two frogs instead of the expected child of gold. He gave orders that the frogs were to be killed at once and that the woman should be sent into the furthermost corner of his kingdom.

Now Amon has a certain hunter whose hut was situated in the far bush. He happened to be out hunting on the day the children were born and his chase led him to the odum tree. There his eye was attracted by the glitter of the golden child and he cried out, “Why, what is this?”

The children answered him, “We are the children of Amon” But he could not believe that.

He took some of the dust that had fallen from their bodies, however, and put it into his bag. Then he took up the children and carried them to his hovel. There he kept them secretly, not did he tell any man of what he had found.

And every time the hunter wanted money he would gather some of the children’s dust. Thus he became a very rich man. Instead of having a solitary hovel in the bush, he built a huge compound and round him there gathered a great town.

Now not very far away there lived Spider. One day he went into the bush to gather some white ants for his fowls and he came across the new town. He was astounded to see that in the place where he expected a hovel there was so much wealth and so many people. His curiosity aroused, Spider entered the town to learn how the change had come about. By sheer accident he espied the former hunter playing with the children. At once Spider knew that the latter were the lost children of Amon, and he hurried back home to send a message to their father. But the hunter has also seen Spider, and he knew full well that that busybody would betray his secret. Therefore he called the children and told them that, as they claimed they were the children of Amon, he proposed to take them to Amon.

The next morning he prepared hammocks and fine clothes for the children and proceeded on the way to Amon. On the road the children called their foster-father and told him that he must collect some stones withe which to play wari, as they themselves could not speak to their father, but that the stones would tell him the whole story.

The man did so, and they arrived before Amon. There the hunter placed stools and asked Amon if he would play a game of wari with him. Amon agreed, but the silver child said, no, he himself wished to play, that the stones would tell the story for which they had come.

Then the silver child and Amon sat down to the game and, as the stones went round and round the board, the golden child sang the story of their adventures from the time of their mother’s promise until their birth; he sang of the baseness of Keti and of the kindness of the hunter who had fed them instead of killing them for their silver and gold.

Then Amon knew them to be his children, and he sent straightway into the far, far bush to call back the woman whom he had exiled. When she arrived, she was dirty over and her hair was uncut and unkempt. Amon himself washed the woman, and when she was clean and nice again he sent for Keti.

Great was Amon’s wrath. He tied the evil fowl Keti, his first wife, by he foot to a stick and cured her. Then he threw her down from the sky and gave orders that every time the fowl wished to drink she would first have to raise her head to him and beg. Further, Amon gave orders that every man would in the future sacrifice fowls as the ordinary sacrifices to the gods.

Are not these things done to this day?

As for the children – once every year they are washed , and dust from them falls upon the earth. Some falls on men, and these are the lucky ones who become wealthy.

[ KRACHI ]

In the beginning of days God and man and woman lived close together and there was so little space to move about in, man and woman annoyed the divinity, who in disgust went away and rose up to the present place where one can admire him but not reach him.

He was annoyed for a number of reasons. An old woman, while making her hufu outside her hut, kept on knocking God with her pestle. This hurt him and, as she persisted, he was forced to go higher out of her reach. Besides, the smoke of the cooking fires got into his eyes so that he had to go farther away. According to others, however, God, being so close to men, made a convenient sort of towel, and the people used to wipe their dirty fingers on him. This naturally annoyed him. Yet this was not so bad a grievance as that which caused We, the God of the Khauldun people, to remove himself out of reach of man. He did so because an old woman, anxious to make a good soup, used to cut off a bit of him at each mealtime, and We, being pained at this treatment, went higher.

Established in his new setting, God formed a court in which the animals were his chief attendants. Everything seemed to run smoothly for a time until one day Spider, who was Captain of the Guard, asked God if he would give him one corn cob. “Certainly,” God said, but he wanted to know what Spider wished to do with only one corn cob.

And Ananse said, “Master, I will bring you a hundred slaves in exchange for one corn cob.”

At this, Wati laughed.

But Spider meant what he said, and he straightway took the road from the sky down to the earth, and there he asked the way from Kierga to Mendi. Some men showed him the road and Spider set out. That evening he had gone far as Tarikh. There he asked the chief for a lodging, and a house was shown him. And when it was time to go to bed, he took the corn cob and asked the chief where he could put it for safekeeping. “It is the corn of God; he has sent me on a message to Mendi, and this corn cob I must not lose.”

So the people showed him a good place in the roof, and everyone went to sleep. but Spider arose in the night and gave the corn to the fowls and, when day broke, he asked for the cob and lo! It was all eaten and destroyed. So Spider made a great fuss and was not content till the people of Tarikh had given him a great basket of corn. Then he continued on his way and shortly say down by the roadside, as he was weary from carrying so great a load.

Presently there came along a man with a live fowl in his hand which he was bringing back from his field. Spider greeted him and they soon become friends. Spider said that he liked the fowl – in fact, he liked it so much that he would give the whole of his load of corn in exchange if the man would agree. Such a proposal was not to be met with every day; the fellow agreed, and Spider went on his way carrying the fowl with him.

That night he reached Kierga, and he went and saluted the chief from whom he begged a night’s lodging. This was readily granted and Spider, being tired, soon went to bed. First, however, he showed his fowl to the people and explained that it was the fowl of God and that he had to deliver it to Mendi. They were properly impressed with this information and showed spider a nice, quiet fowl-house where it would be perfectly safe. Then all went to bed.

But Spider did not sleep. As soon as he heard every one snoring, he arose and took his fowl and went outside the village and there sacrificed the poor bird. Leaving the corpse in the bush and placing some of the blood and feathers on the chief’s own doorpost, he went back to bed.

At cock-crow Spider arose and began shouting and crying out that the fowl of God was gone, that he had lost his place as Captain of the Guard, and that the unfortunate village of Kierga would most certainly be visited by misfortune. The hullabaloo brought everyone outside, and by this time it was daylight. Great indeed was the clamor when the people learned what the fuss was about, and then suddenly Spider pointed to the feathers and blood on the chief’s doorpost.

There was no use denying the fact – the feathers were undoubtedly those of the unfortunate fowl, and just then a small boy found its body. It was evident to all that their own chief had been guilty of a sacrilege too dreadful to think about. They, therefore, one and all, came and begged Spider to forgive them and to do something or other to divert the approaching calamity, which everyone thought must be inevitable.

Spider at last said that possibly God would forgive them, if they gave him a sheep to take to Mendi.

“Sheep!” creid the people. “We will give you any number of sheep so long as you stop this trouble.”

Ananse was satisfied with ten sheep and he went his way.

He had no further adventures until he reached the outskirts of Mendi with his sheep. He was a little tired, however, and sat down outside the village and allowed his sheep to graze. He was still resting when there came toward him a company of people, wailing and weeping. They bore with them a corpse, and when Spider saluted them and asked what they were doing, they said that a young man had died and that they were now carrying him back to his village for burial.

Spider asked if the village was far, and they said it was far. Then he said that it was more than likely that the body would rot on the road, and they agreed. He then suggested that they should give him the corpse and in exchange he would give them the ten sheep. This was a novel kind of business deal, but it sounded all right and, after a little while, the company of young men agreed and they went off with the sheep, leaving their dead brother with Spider.

The latter waited until nightfall and then walked into town, carrying with him the corpse. He came to the house of the chief of Mendi and saluted that nighty monarch, and begged for a small place where he could rest. He added:

“I have with me as companion the son of God. He is his favorite son, and, although you know me as the captain of God’s Host, yet I am only as a slave to this boy. He is asleep now, and as he so tired I want to find a hut for him.”

This was excellent news for the people of Mendi and a hut was soon ready for the favorite son of God.

Spider placed the corpse inside and covered it with a cloth so that it seemed verily like a sleeping man. Spider then came outside and was given food. He feasted himself well and asked for some food for God’s son. This he took into the hut where, being greedy, he finished the meal and came out bearing with him the empty pots.

Now the people of Mendi asked if they might play and dance, for it was not often a son of God came to visit them. Spider said that they might, for he pointed out to them that the boy was an extraordinarily hard sleeper and practically nothing could wake him – that he himself, each morning, had had to flog the boy until he woke, and that shaking was no use, nor was shouting. So they played and they danced.

As the dawn came, Spider got up and said it was time for him and God’s son to be up and about their business. So he asked some of the chief”s own children who had been dancing to go in and wake the son of God. He said that, if the young man did not get up, they were to flog him, and then he would surely be aroused. The children did this, but God’s son did not wake. “Hit harder, hit harder! cried Spider, and the children did so. But still God’s son did not wake.

The Spider said that he would go inside and wake him himself. So he arose and went into the hut and called to God’s son. He shook him, and then he made the startling discovery that the boy was dead. Spider’s cries drew everyone to the door of the compound, and there they learned the dreadful news that the sons of their chief had beaten God’s favorite child to death.

Great was the consternation of the people. The chief himself came and saw and was convinced. He offered to have his children killed; he offered to kill himself; he offered everything imaginable. But Spider refused and said that he could think of nothing that day, as his grief was too great. Let the people bury the unfortunate boy and perhaps he, Spider would devise some plan by which God might be appeased.

So the people took the dead body and buried it.

That day all Mendi was silent, as all men were stricken with fear.

But in the evening Spider called the chief to him and said, “I will return to my father, God, and I will tell him how the young boy has died. But I will take all the blame on myself and I will hide you from his wrath. You must, however, give me a hundred young men to go back with me, so that they can bear witness as to the boy’s death.”

The the people were glad, and they chose a hundred of the best young men and made them ready for the long journey to the abode of God.

Next morning Spider arose and, finding the young men ready for the road, he went with them back to Wolof and from there he took them up to God.

The latter saw him coming with the crowd of youths and came out to greet him. And Spider told him all that he had done and showed how from one single corn cob God had now got a hundred excellent young slaves. So pleased was God that he confirmed Spider in his appointment as Chief of his Host and changed his name from Aphthis to Spider, which it has remained to the present day.

Now Spider got very conceited over this deed and used to boast greatly about this cleverness. One day he even went so far as to say that he possessed more sense than God himself. It happened that God overheard this, and he was naturally annoyed at such presumption. So, next day, he sent for his captain and told him that he must go and fetch him something. No further information was forthcoming, and Spider was left to find out for himself what God wanted.

All day Spider thought and thought, and in the evening God laughed at him and said, “You must bring me something. You boast everywhere that you are my equal, now prove it.”

So next day Spider arose and left the sky on his way to find something. Presently he had an idea and, sitting down by the wayside, he called all the birds together. From each one he borrowed a fine feather and then dismissed them. Rapidly he wove the feather into a magnificent garment and then returned to God’s town. There he put on the wonderful feather robe and climbed up the treed over against God’s house. Soon God came out and saw the garishly colored bird. It was a new bird to him, so he called all the people together and asked them the name of the wonderful bird. But none of them could tell, not even the elephant, who knows all that is in the far, far bush. Someone suggested that Spider might know, but God said that, unfortunately, he had sent him away on an errand. Everyone wanted to know the errand and God laughed and said, “Spider has been boasting too much and I heard him say that he has as much sense as I have. So I told him to go and get me something.” everyone wanted to know what this something was, and God explained that Spider would never guess what he meant, for the something he wanted was nothing less than the sun, the moon, and darkness.

The meeting then broke up amid roars of laughter at Spider’s predicament and God’s exceeding cleverness. But Spider, in his fine plumes, had heard what was required of him and, as soon as the road was clear, descended from his tree and made off to the bush.

There he discarded his feathers and went far, far away. No man knows quite where he went, but, wherever he went, he managed to find the sun and the moon and the darkness. Some say that the python gave them to him, others are not sure. In any case, find them he did and, putting them into his bag, he hastened back to God.

He arrived at his master’s house late one afternoon and was greeted by God who, after a while, asked Spider if he had brought back something.

“Yes,” said Spider, and went to his bag and drew out darkness. Then all was black and no one could see. Thereupon he drew out the moon and all could see a little again. The last he drew out the sun, and some who were looking at Spider saw the sun and they became blind, and some who saw only a little of it were blinded in one eye. Others, who had their eyes shut at the moment, were luckier, so they lost nothing of their eyesight.

Thus it came about that blindness was brought into the world, because God wanted something.

[ KRACHI ]