In the beginning of days Wulbari 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 fufu outside her hut, kept on knocking Wulbari 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, Wulbari, 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 Wulbari of the Kassena 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, Wulbari formed a court in which the animals were his chief attendants. Everything seemed to run smoothly for a time until one day Ananse, spider, who was Captain of the Guard, asked Wulbari if he would give him one corn cob. “Certainly,” Wulbari said, but he wanted to know what Ananse 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, Wulbari laughed.

But Ananse meant what he said, and he straightway took the road from the sky down to the earth, and there he asked the way from Krachi to Yendi. Some men showed him the road and Ananse set out. That evening he had gone far as Tariasu. 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 Wulbari; he has sent me on a message to Yendi, 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 Ananse 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 Ananse made a great fuss and was not content till the people of Tariasu 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. Ananse greeted him and they soon become friends. Ananse 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 Ananse went on his way carrying the fowl with him.

That night he reached Kpandae, and he went and saluted the chief from whom he begged a night’s lodging. This was readily granted and Ananse, being tired, soon went to bed. First, however, he showed his fowl to the people and explained that it was the fowl of Wulbari and that he had to deliver it to Yendi. They were properly impressed with this information and showed Ananse a nice, quiet fowl-house where it would be perfectly safe. Then all went to bed.

But Ananse 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 Ananse arose and began shouting and crying out that the fowl of Wulbari was gone, that he had lost his place as Captain of the Guard, and that the unfortunate village of Kpandae would most certainly be visited by misfortune. The hullabaloo brought everyone outside, and by this time it was daylight. Great indeed was the clamour when the people learned what the fuss was about, and then suddenly Ananse 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 Ananse to forgive them and to do something or other to divert the approaching calamity, which everyone thought must be inevitable.

Ananse at last said that possibly Wulbari would forgive them, if they gave him a sheep to take to Yendi.

“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 Yendi 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 Ananse 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.

Ananse 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 Ananse.

The latter waited until nightfall and then walked into town, carrying with him the corpse. He came to the house of the chief of Yendi 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 Wulbari. He is his favourite son, and, although you know me as the captain of Wulbari’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 Yendi and a hut was soon ready for the favourite son of Wulbari.

Ananse placed the corpse inside and covered it with a cloth so that it seemed verily like a sleeping man. Ananse then came outside and was given food. He feasted himself well and asked for some food for Wulbari’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 Yendi asked if they might play and dance, for it was not often a son of Wulbari came to visit them. Ananse 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, Ananse got up and said it was time for him and Wulbari’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 Wulbari. 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 Wulbari’s son did not wake. “Hit harder, hit harder! creid Ananse, and the children did so. But still Wulbari’s son did not wake.

The Ananse said that he would go inside and wake him himself. So he arose and went into the hut and called to Wulbari;s son. He shook him, and then he made the startling discovery that the boy was dead. Ananse’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 Wulbari’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 Ananse 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, Ananse would devise some plan by which Wulbari might be appeased.

So the people took the dead body and buried it.

That day all Yendi was silent, as all men were stricken with fear.

But in the evening Ananse called the chief to him and said, “I will return to my father, Wulbari, 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 Wulbari.

Next morning Ananse arose and, finding the young men ready for the road, he went with them back to Krachi and from there he took them up to Wulbari.

The latter saw him coming with the crowd of youths and came out to greet him. And Ananse told him all that he had done and showed how from one single corn cob Wulbari had now got a hundred excellent young slaves. So pleased was Wulbari that he confirmed Ananse in his appointment as Chief of his Host and changed his name from Anyankon to Ananse, which it has remained to the present day.

Now Ananse 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 Wulbari himself. It happened that Wulbari 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 Ananse was left to find out for himself what Wulbari wanted.

All day Ananse thought and thought, and in the evening Wulbari laughed at him and said, “You must bring me something. You boast everywhere that you are my equal, now prove it.”

So next day Ananse 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 Wulbari’s town. There he put on the wonderful feather robe and climbed up the treed over against Wulbari’s house. Soon Wulbari 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 Ananse might know, but Wulbari said that, unfortunately, he had sent him away on an errand. Everyone wanted to know the errand and Wulbari laughed and said, “Ananse 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 Wulbari explained that Ananse 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 Ananse’s predicament and Wulbari’s exceeding cleverness. But Ananse, 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 Wulbari.

He arrived at his master’s house late one afternoon and was greeted by Wulbari who, after a while, asked Ananse if he had brought back something.

“Yes,” said Ananse, 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 Ananse 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 Wulbari wanted something.

[ KRACHI ]