IT IS SAID that once there was a female eagle and that in her wanderings she came upon a certain old woman who had a sore on her leg. And the eagle said, “Gracious me! That is an unusual kind of sore. With a sore like that, however hard you try, are you able to walk?”

The old woman said, “Oh, just a very little.”

The eagle said, “You people! Nowadays, if I were to do something good for you today, tomorrow you would do something bad to thank me.”

The old woman said, “Oh! I would not do that.”

The eagle said, “If you will not behave like that, I will help you.” After a pause the eagle commanded, “Shut your eyes, and then open them.”

And the old woman shut her eyes and opened them.

The eagle then said, “look at your sore.”

And the old woman stooped to look – not a trace of it remained. Then the eagle made her close her eyes again; she opened them, and she saw that all the forest had been cleared.

The eagle said, “Close your eyes again.”

The old woman closed them and then opened them, and she saw that houses were firmly built there. And the eagle made her close her eyes again. She opened them to see a town of large size. There it was – huge!

The eagle said, “Old woman, it’s yours.”

The old woman said, “Thanks, thanks! I give you thanks! What must I give to thank you?”

The eagle said, “I do not want even a trifling thing. As for me, all that I desire is that silk-cotton tree that stands there.”

The old woman said, “This thing you ask for – it is nothing – take it.”

Then the eagle flew off, alighted on the tree, and wove a nest and laid two eggs which she deposited in it. And she hatched the two eggs, and went off to seek for something for her children to eat.

Then the old woman’s grandchild, who lived with her, began to whimper: “Ehe! Ehe!”

The old woman said, “What’s the matter?”

The child said, “Let me chew an eagle’s child.”

The old woman said, “Where am I to get an eagle’s child?”

The small grandchild commenced again – “whimper! whimper!”

The old woman said, “What’s the matter?”

The child said, “Let me chew an eagle’s child, for if I non’t have one to chew I shall die.”

The old woman said, “Ah! Must this my grandchild die for want of an eagle’s child to chew? Go, take axes, and strike the silk-cotton tree and bring me the eagle’s children.”

The village folk went there, the axes sounded pinpin! pinpin! pinpin! It was just when the tree was going down, that the elder of the eagle’s children jumped up and stood on the edge of the nest and raised a cry. It called the mother:

“Sango, the bird e!

Sango, the bird, the eagle’s child!

Snago, the bird e!

Sango, if she went to eat, come back!

Sango, the bird e!

Sango,o! o!”

The mother heard that her child was crying; she rose up and the sound of her wings flapping was fa! She came, she said “Sanguri!” And the silk-cotton tree, which was nearly severed, came together again, and all the people who had been striking it were swallowed up. The eagle took the food which she had brought and gave it to her children. Then she bade them good-bye and said, “I am going. If the old woman comes to take you away, let her take you.”

And the old woman said, “Go and strike down the tree and bring the creatures for my grandchild to chew.”

And they went there a second time. Pinpin! pinpin! pinpin! It was just as the tree was to go to the ground that the eagle’s child came out and stood on the edge of the nest, and called its mother:

“Sango, the bird e!

Sango, the bird, the eagle’s child!

Sango, the bird e!

Sango, if she went to eat, come back!

Sango, the bird e!

Sango, o! o!”

It called its mother, and called, and called, and called – there was no answer – and now the tree spoke as it hit the ground. “Brim!” it said.

They took away the eagle’s children. They gave one to the old woman, but the one that remained flew away and alighted on a wawa-wawa tree. The first one the old woman roasted and gave to her grandchild, who added it to the roasted plantain she was eating

Not long afterward, the eagle came. When she reached the tree which they had felled, she saw one of her children sitting there. She asked it what had happened, and it told her the news. The eagle set off for the old woman’s village. When she arrived there, the old woman’s grandchild was eating one of her children. She said, Old woman, I congratulate you.” Then she came out from the old woman’s house and commenced her magic at the outskirts of the town. She said “Sanguri!” and every person disappeared; and again she said “Sanguri!” – the village once again became the forest. “Sanguri!” and the old woman’s sore came back. And the eagle said, “Old woman, you have seen.” That is why the elders say, “If some does good to you, thank him by doing good to him and do not return evil to thank him.”

[ ASHANTI ]

THERE WAS ONCE a certain woman, and she bore three children. The younger among them was suffering from yaws.

The eldest of the brothers asked their mother to let them have gold dust that they might go trading. The youngest of them said he would like to go too, but they decared that he should not go with them. The mother, however, said that they and he must go together. Then their mother gave the elder sons gold dust to the value of five pounds and the youngest son gold dust to the value of two pounds. When things became visible, they set out.

The elder brothers went in front and left the child to follow behind. The child came along slowly. The elder ones met a certain man who was bringing fish. He said to them, “Buy!”

They answered, “Go on and you will meet a certain child. Make him buy. If he refuses to buy, take him and return with him to his mother.”

The fellow went on and, sure enough, he met the child. He said, “Some elders whom I met said you are to buy this fish.”

The child said, “Must I buy when those who are my elders did not buy?”

The fellow said, “They say if you will not buy I must beat you and must take you back and give you to your mother.”

The child said, “How much is it?”

The fellow said, An osua’s weight of gold dust.” The child paid for it and received it.

He went on and overtook the elder brothers at a certain village. They had cooked vegetables but they did not have any meat to go with them. The child said, “Here is a fish which I bought.” They put it in the soup-stew. When they had finished cooking, the elders gave him the head of the fish. When the child was about to break it, he saw red gold within, and he tied it up in the edge of his cloth.

The next day, when things became visible, the elders set out, and they went along, they met a man, and a rooster rested on the top of things which he was carrying. As soon as he came up with the elders, he said, “Buy this rooster.”

They replied, “Go on, and you will meet a child. Make him buy it and, if he will not buy it, beat him.”

Of a truth he met the child. He said, “Your elder kinsmen said that you are to buy this rooster, and that if you do not buy it, I am to beat you and take you and give you to your mother.”

The child replied, “Here, take what I have.” The fellow, on his part, handed him over the rooster.

After a while they reached a village. In the whole village there were no roosters to crow. The next morning, when things became visible, the rooster, which belonged to the child, crowed. The headman of the village said, “Child, bring the rooster and let me buy it.”

The child said, “The price is an osua-and-suru’s weight of gold dust.”

The headman paid the amount. The next day, when things became clear, they started off again.

As they were going along, the elders met a man carrying a cat. He said, “Buy this cat.”

The elders said, “Take it along, and you will meet a certain child. Make him buy it. Should he say he will not buy, beat him and take him back to his mother.”

The fellow passed on and met the child. He said, “Your elders say that you are to buy this cat and that if you do not buy it, I must beat you and take you back to your mother.”

The child said, “How much?”

The fellow said, “An osua-and-suru’s weight of gold dust.”

The child paid the price. He went on and came up with his elders at another village.

Now the mice used to nibble the feet of the headman there whenever he attempted to sleep. When the child with the cat arrived at this village, he went to the chief’s house and the cat caught the mice which were there. The headman said, “I will buy this cat from the person to whom it belongs.”

The child said, “It is mine.”

The headman said, “How much?”

The child said, “An osua-and-suru’s weight of gold dust.” the headman picked up the gold dust and put it in the child’s hand.

The next day, when things became visible, they again set out. The elders went ahead and on the way they met thieves who had stolen the corpse of a certain chief. The thieves said, “You must buy this corpse.”

The elders said, “Take it, and go on and you will meet a child. Give this corpse to him to buy. If he says he will not buy it, beat him, and take him and give him back to his mother.”

The thieves went on and they met the child. They said, “Your elders say that you are to buy this corpse.”

The child said, “Eh! What should I buy a corpse for? I could not carry it. Whatever i do with it, it will not be of any good use to me.”

The thieves said, “Your elders said that if you do not buy it, we must beat you and take you and give you back to your mother.”

The child said, “How much?”

They said, “An osua-and-suru’s weight of gold dust.”

The child paid the price, took the corpse, and laid it in the bush.

Then he set off and came to a certain village and went to a house to beg for food. The master of the house said, “There is none.”

The child said, “Grandfather, I implore you!”

The master of the house said, “There is none.’

The child said, “Grandfather, I implore you!”

The master of the house said, “Why does this child trouble me like this? Our chief is dead. We are fasting, and this is the eighth day, but, search as we may, we cannot find his corpse.”

Then an old woman sitting nearby said, “Give him some food.”

Thereupon a woman gave the child food and meat. When the child had finished eating, he said, “Master of the house, I have seen the chief’s body yesterday as I was coming, some thieves made me buy it for an osua-and-suru’s weight of gold dust.”

The woman ran off. Yiridi! yiridi! yiridi! was the sound of her running, and she told the village elders the news. They took the child and he went and showed them the body. Then they brought it and buried it properly. They said, “Now you will succeed the chieftaincy.” So the child became chief.

Now when his elder brothers heard about him, they came and claimed blood relationship with him. The child, however, said, “Clear out! I don’t know you! Be off!” And he made his slaves drive them away.

That is why we say, “If you are going anywhere, and if your younger brothers says he will go with you, take him along.”

[ ASHANTI ]

THEY SAY that once upon a time Arlum Silla, the sky-god, cleared a very large plantation and planted okras, onions, beans, garden-eggs, peppers, and pumpkins. The weeds in the garden became thick and nettles grew up. The sky-god then made a proclamation by odawuro to the effect that his plantation was overgrown with weeds and that anyone who could weed it without scratching himself might come forward and take his daughter, Kuse, in marriage. The first one who went to try scratched himself where the nettles tickled, and they hooted at him. The next one who tried was also hooted at. All men went and tried and all failed.

Now Spider, said, “As for me, I am able to do it.” The sky-god’s plantation was situated on the side of the path, and the path was the one people used to take when going to the market every Friday. The spider, because he knew this fact, used only to go and clear the weeds every Friday. When he was hoeing, the people who passed by used to greet him, saying, “Hail to you at your work, Father Spider!”

Then he would answer, “Thank you, Aku.” They would continue, “A plantation which no one has been able to clear – do you mean to say you are weeding it?”

The spider would answer, “Ah, it’s all because of one girl that I am wearing myself out like this. Her single arm is like this.” And he would then slap and rub his arm where it was tackling him, and when he did so, he would get relief from the irritation. Then another person would pass there and hail him at his work, and he would again slap the place that was itching. For example, if it was his thigh, he would say, “That single girl! They say her thigh is like this,” and he would slap and rub his own thigh.

In this manner he finished clearing the plantation. Then he went off to tell the sky-god how he had finished the weeding of his farm. The sky-god asked the messenger, “Has he really finished?”

The messenger said, “Yes.”

The sky-god asked him, “Did he scratch himself?”

He said, “No, he did not scratch himself.”

Then the sky-god took Kuse and gave her to Spider in marriage.

One night Spider and his bride went to rest and the bride questioned him, saying, “However was it that you of all people were able to clear father’s plantation of weeds? A plantation like that – from which everyone who tried turned back! However were you able to clear it?”

Then the spider said, “Do you suppose that I am a fool? I used to hoe, and when anyone passed by and said to me, ‘Spider, are you clearing this farm which no one else has ever been able to clear?’ I would thereupon slap with my hand any place on my skin that was tickling me and scratch it, and declare to the person that your thigh, for example, was like the thigh of a buffalo, and that it was beautiful and polished. That is how it came about that I was able to weed the plantation.”

Thereupon Kuse, the ninth child, said, “then tomorrow I shall tell father that you scratched yourself after all.”

But the spider spoke to her, saying, “You must not mention it. This is a sleeping-mat confidence.”

Kuse, the ninth child, said, “I know nothing whatever about sleeping-mat confidences, and I shall tell father.” Kuse took her sleeping-mat away from beside Spider and went and lay down at the other end of the room.

Now Spider’s eyes grew red and sorrowful, and he went and took his sepirewa, and he struck the strings and sang:

“Kuse, the ninth child, this is not a matter

About which to quarrel.

Let us treat it as a sleeping-mat confidence.

‘No!” she says. She has a case against me,

But some one else has a case

which is already walking down the path.”

Then the spider went and lay down. After Spider had lain there for some time, he rose up again. He said, “Kuse.” Not a sound save the noise of the cicada chirping dinn! Spider said, “I’ve got you!”

He took a little gourd cup and slashed it full with water and poured it over Kuse’s sleeping-mat. Then Spider went and lay down. After he had lain there a while, he said, “Ko!” Kuse, whatever is this! You have wet the sleeping-mat, you shameless creature! Surely you are not at all nice. When things become visible, I shall tell everyone. It was true then – what they all siad – that when anyone went to your father’s plantation, he would say, ‘A girl who wets …. ! I am not going to clear a nettle plantation for such a person.’ “

Then Kuse said to him, “I implore you, desist, and let the matter drop.”

But spider said, “I will not leave it, for my case came first. You said you would tell your father. I said, ‘Desist’; but you said, ‘No.’ Because of that I will not drop the case.”

And Kuse, the ninth child, said, “Leave my case, and your case, too about which I spoke. I shall drop it, for if you do not leave mine, my eyes will die for shame.”

Then Spider said, “I have heard. Since you so desire, let it be a sleeping-mat confidence. So the matter ends there.”

That is how the elders came to say, “Sleeping-mat confidences are not to be repeated.”

[ ASHANTI ]

THEY SAY that once upon a time a great famine came, and the Father Spider, and his wife Wan, and his children, Diakhu, Mandara (Thin-Shanks), Kau Kau (Belly-Like-to-Burst), and Tikonokono (Big-Big-Head), built a little settlement and lived in it. Every day the spider used to go and bring food – wild yams – and they boiled and ate them.

Now one day, father Spider went to the bush and he saw that a beautiful dish was standing there. He said, “This dish is beautiful.”

The dish said, “My name is not beautiful.”

The spider then asked, “What are you called?”

It replied, “I am called ‘Fill-Up-Some-and Eat.'”

The spider said, “Fill up some so that I may see.”

The dish filled up with palm-oil soup, and Spider ate it all.

When he had finished, he asked the dish, “What is your taboo?”

The dish replied, “I hate a gun wad and a little gourd cup.”

The spider took the dish home, and went and placed it on the ceiling. He went off to the bush and brought food, and Wan, when she had finished cooking, called Spider. He said, “Oh, yours is the real need. As for me, I am an old man. What should I have to do with food? You and these children are the ones in real need. If you are replete, then my ears will be spared the sounds of your lamentations.”

When they had finished eating, Spider passed behind the hut, and went and sat on the ceiling where the dish was. He said, “This dish is beautiful.”

It replied, “My name is not Beautiful.”

He said, “What is your name?”

He said, “I am called ‘Fill-Up-Some-and-Eat.'”

Spider said, “Fill up some for me to see.” And it filled up a plate full of ground-nut soup, and Spider ate. Every day when he arose it was thus.

Now Mandara noticed that his father did not grow thin in spite of the fact that they and he did not eat together, and so he kept watch on his father to see what the latter had got hold of. When his father went off to the bush, Mandara climbed up on top of the ceiling and saw the dish. He called his mother and brothers and they, too went on top. Mandara said, “This dish is beautiful.”

It said, “I am not called ‘Beautiful.'”

He said, “Then what are you called?”

It said, “My name is ‘Fill-Up-Some-and-Eat.’ “

He said, “Fill up a little that I may see.” And the dish filled up to the brim with palm-oil soup.

And now Diakhu asked the dish, “What do you taboo?”

The dish said, “I hate a gun wad and a small gourd cup.”

Diakhu said to Kau Kau, “Go and bring some for me.”

And he brought them, and Diakhu took the gun wad and touched the dish and also the little gourd cup and touched the dish with it. Then they all descended.

Father Spider mean time had come back from the bush with the wild yams. Wan finished cooking them. They called Spider.

He replied, “Perhaps you didn’t hear what I said – I said that when I come home with food, you may partake, for you are the ones in need.” Wan and her children ate.

Father Spider washed and then climbed up on the ceiling. He said, “This dish is beautiful.” Complete silence! “This dish is beautiful!” Complete silence! Father Spider, “Ah! It must be on account of this cloth not being a beautiful one; I shall go and bring the one with the pattern of the Oyo clan and put it on.” And he descended to go and fetch the Oyo-pattern cloth to wear. He put on his sandals and again climbed up on the ceiling. He said, “This dish is beautiful.” Complete silence! “This dish is beautiful.” Complete silence! He looked round the room and saw that a gun wad and a little gourd cup were there.

Spider said, “It’s not one thing, it’s not two things – it’s Diakhu.” Spider smashed the dish, and came down. He took off the Oyo-pattern cloth, laid it away, and went off to the bush. As he was going, he saw that a very beautiful thing called Mpere, the whip, was hanging there. He said, “Oh, wonderful! This thing is more beautiful than the last. This whip is beautiful.”

The whip said, “I am not called Beautiful.’ “

The spider said, “Then what are you called?”

It said, “I am called ‘Abiridiabrada,’ or ‘Swish-and-Raise-Welts.’ “

And spider said, “Swish a little for me to see.” And the whip fell upon him biridi, biridi, biridi! Father Spider cried, “Pui! pui!’

A certain bird sitting nearby said Spider Say ‘Adwobere, cool-and-easy-now.’ “

And Spider said, “Adwobere, cool-and-easy-now.”

And the whip stopped beating him. And Spider brought this whip home; and he went and placed it on the ceiling.

Wan finished cooking the food and said, “Spider, come and eat.”

He replied, “Since you are still here on earth, perhaps you have not a hole in your ears and don’t hear what I had said – I shall not eat.” Spider climbed up above and went and sat down quietly. Soon he came down again and he went and hid himself somewhere.

Then Diakhu climbed up aloft. He said, “Oh, that father of mine has brought something home again!” Diakhu called, “Mother, Mandara, Kau Kau, come here, for the thing father has brought this time excels the last one by far!” Then all of them climbed up on the ceiling. Diakhu said, “This thing is beautiful.”

It replied, “I am not called ‘Beautiful.’ “

He said, “What is your name?”

It said, “I am called ‘Swish-and-Raise-Welts.’ “

He said, “Swish a little for me to see.” And the whip descended upon them and flogged them severely.

Spider stood aside and shouted, “Lay it on, lay it one! Especially on Diakhu, lay it on him!” Now when Spider has watched and seen that they were properly flogged, he said, “Adwobere, cool-and-easy-now.” Spider came and took the whip and cut it into pieces and scattered them about.

That is what made the whip come into the tribe. So it comes about that when you tell your child something and he will not listen to you, you whip him.

[ ASHANTI }

THERE WAS ONCE a hunter. After he got up in the morning he used to go to the bush to seek for game to kill so that he might get some to eat and some to sell.

Now one day he went to the bush and he heard Kokotee, the bush pig, call out to its kinsman, “Kokotee Asamoa!”

He replied, “Yes, brother, yes.” Kokotee again called, “The time for work on our farms has arrived. Let us go to the blacksmith’s forge that he may fashion the iron and put an edge on our cutting tools, so that, if we have to cut down any trees, we may be able to do so.”

When the bush pig called to his brothers, the hunter crouched down and hid, and he heard all the conversation. Now Kokotee’s brother asked, “And to what village shall we go to have the iron struck?”

Kokotee replied, “We shall go to the village called Across-the Stream.”

And his brother said, “what day?”

He replied, “Monday.”

The hunter heard all this arrangement and set off for home. When he came home, he told the headman of Across-the-Stream the news, namely, what he had heard when he had gone to the bush. And the hunter said to the headman of the village, “Let the children go and cut logs and bring them, and when, on Monday, the bush pigs change themselves into people and come, we shall take them and fasten them to the logs.”

The children went and cut the logs and brought them. The headman of the village went and told the village blacksmith to beat out iron staples for him. And the blacksmith asked the headman, “And all this quanity of iron staples which you say I must beat out – what are you going to do with them?”

And he told him the news – how a hunter had gone to the bush and come back to report that on Monday certain beasts would turn themselves into people in order to come to his forge to have tools forged. The blacksmith ran off to beat the iron staples quickly. As soon as chief had finished collecting the logs and staples, he caused the town crier to beat the iron gong, saying, “On Monday, be it woman , or be it man, no one must go anywhere.”

Monday arrived, and in the morning an old woman said to the hunter, “Go and grind peppers, salt, and onions at the place where the beasts will peel off their skins and lay them down. Do you also, when you go there, take the peppers and rub them on. When the beasts come there, and we catch them, should some escape and go to take their skins again and put them on, then the peppers will hurt them, and they will throw the skins off and will become people again.”

The hunter went off to the bush and he hid there. And he heard the bush pigs calling, “Kokotess Asamoa, Monday has arrived, let us go.” So they all came. They peeled off their skins and put them down. Now one of the pigs, who was a doctor of herbs, was among them and let them go away. He went and took all the skins and rubbed on them the peppers which they had mashed, and then took the skins and pout them in the stream, letting the water take them away. The skin of the medicine-man, however, which had been out aside from the rest, the hunter did not see.

The hunter went home, and the chief called the people gathered round the blacksmith’s forge and made them come to his house. When these people came to the chief’s house, they inquired of the chief, “Why have you called us?”

The chief said, “You were once my men, and you ran away to settle elsewhere. Today you have come back – that is the reason I say you must come, for I will not permit you to go away any more.”

The beasts said to the chief, “What you have said we have heard. But we know that the Creator’s hunter came and told you all about us. However, that does not matter. We and you will live together, although we know that what you say is false. Nevertheless that, also, does not matter; we thank that hunter. So we and you will live together. But there is one thing which we taboo, namely, that you disclose our origin, of that any of your subjects should disclose our origin. Should that happen, we shall break up this, your tribe, and depart.”

Now at the time the chief went to call them, the medicine-man and some others ran away. And the medicine-man went to take his skin and he escaped; but the rest turned back. That was because they could not find their skins. The chief agreed to the conditions laid down by the beasts, and the human beings and the beasts lived happily together.

After a while the men of the village married some of the beasts’ women-folk and they bore children. Now one day one of the beasts and one of the villagers were fighting with their fists. Thereupon the villager said to the beast, “Take yourself off from there – an animal like you who belongs to the bush-pig tribe!” No sooner had he said this than the eyes of all the beasts became red, and they went to the chief’s house to tell him, saying, “The possibility about which we told you has now actually come about, so what are you going to do?”

The chief made them go and call the people who had caused the dispute. The chief looked closely into the matter and gave judgement that the beasts should drop the charge because, he said, it was a long time since they had come and this, moreover, was the first occasion on which anyone had ever said anything to them about their origin.

But the beasts said, “We do not agree.”

And the chief said, “You will not listen, and you think that what this man said is a lie. Are you not bush pigs?

And the beasts said, “Oh! We have heard.”

Thereupon the beasts and the Across-the-Stream people fought. The beasts destroyed the village until there remained only about ten people. These begged for mercy and told the beasts that they had right on their side. The beasts listened, and then informed the people, saying, “A case already stated is not difficult to understand. Now if you and we are to live together, we taboo all allusion to our origin. If you ever think of or mention it again, then we will ask you to point out to us the very thicket whence we came to this place, that we may return thither.”

And the people said, “We will never so such a thing again. What we have done has caused our tribe to be ruined; we shall never do so again.”

So they caused a public proclamation to be made by beating the odawuro gong to the effect that now one should ever tell of another person’s origin, lest the disclosure should cause the town to be ruined.

[ ASHANTI ]