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 ]