WHAT DO YOU THINK? This is what they did. They went looking for wives, saying, “Let us go and try to marry.”
One of them went looking for a wife everywhere. Every one rejected him. At last he, too, like the others, succeeded in making a marriage such as it was.
Well! He brought his wife into the house.
Now, when he married her, he said, “Look here, woman you will eat porridge of small millet, and no other.”
“All right,” answered the woman.
“And I,” added the man, “I shall eat only kafir-corn porridge.”
“All right,” said the woman again.
So, after that, they simply ate porridge, the woman millet, the man kafir-corn.
Alas! One day the woman, making a mistake, happened to eat the kafir-corn porridge. The man came. “You have eaten my porridge,” he said, “yet I told you to eat only millet porridge.” Whereupon he picked up an axe and struck the woman. Then he dragged her, drag! drag! drag! and went and threw her away to the west.
After that the man went alone, wandering about.
One day he said to himself, “We are going for a ramble in the bush.” He went there and killed game. He then remembered that one woman had been left in the village over there. So he said to himself, “Let us go and marry her.”
He went there, received her in marriage, brought her to his home, and said to her, “Look here! You know what killed my former mate… Now don’t you ever dare to eat kafir-corn porridge; you shall eat millet porridge, that’s all.”
“No fear,” said the woman, “I shall eat no kafir-corn porridge.”
The following day he thought of resuming his expedition to the bush. Leaving his bride alone in the hut, he said, “Now I shall have a walk into the bush.” And away he went.
Well! At night when it was quite dark, the new bride heard the sound kwe! kwe! kwe! drag! drag! drag! “That must be,” she thought, “The former wife, the one that was killed, struck with an axe!”
There she was already at the door, drag! drag! drag! Then she knocked nku! nku! nku! knock! knock! knock! Then a song Ramba:
“Open,, open, little bird.
Open, open, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a little bird.”
The new bride went to open for her. The old one dragged herself into the hut, and said:
“Put it on the fire, put it on the fire, little bird.
Put it on the fire, put it on the fire, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
The old wife herself went ahead and put the pot on the fire. They both then remained quiet. Did you ever! The pot boiled, and the new bride then clearly recognized the former one, and heard:
“Stir the porridge, stir the porridge, little bird.
Stir the porridge, stir the porridge, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
The old bride then got up herself to bring kafir-corn meal from the big jar, put it with her own hands in the pot, stirred and stirred her porridge, and then put it in a dish. Just imagine! She actually put tow fingers into it, saying:
“Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
She just ate alone. Her new mate went so far as to put a finger into the porridge, but she did not eat. So the woman repeated:
“Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
She finished her porridge alone. Her mate had not said a word. The woman then moved away. There! She was going. Drag yourself! Drag yourself! Then she stopped at the door to say:
“Shut behind me, shut behind me, little bird.
Shut behind me, shut behind me, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
Now she was out! There she went toward her hole and buried herself in it.
The next day the man returned from the bush, and his wife came to meet him. “Dear me!” she said, “Here in the hut where you have left me there is a thing which comes at night. It is impossible to sleep. It keeps one awake with songs.”
“What is it like?” asked the man.
“You will see it tonight,” answered the woman.
Night came. “Now,” asked the man, “how about the thing you were speaking of?”
“We shall see it, sure enough,” said the woman.
Then it was dark. The woman was already there. The people inside heard kwe! kwe! kwe! drag! drag! There she was already knocking at the door:
“Open, open, little bird.
Open, open, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
Heaven help us! The present wife moved to go and open the door. The husband caught hold of her. “Do not go! he said.
“I will go,” she said.
So the little woman got away from his grip and went to open the door. The first wife then came in, dragging herself along.
“Put it on the fire, put it on the fire, little bird.
Put it on the fire, put it on the fire, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
She put the pot on the fire, and then say down. When the pot boiled she said:
“Stir the porridge, stir the porridge, little bird.
Stir the porridge, stir the porridge, little bird.
O mother! be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
Then she herself stirred the porridge, took it out of the pot and put two fingers in it, singing:
“Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
Let us eat, let us eat, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little porridge of kafir corn is a spirit.”
Good gracious! She ate and ate her porridge. Then she again began to drag herself along, but this time in the direction of the bed, saying:
“Let us sleep, let us sleep, little bird.
Let us sleep, let us sleep, little bird.
O mother! Be satisfied with millet.
A little kafir corn porridge is a spirit.”
She then began to stretch herself on the bed in which lay her husband who had struck her with an axe. Seeing that, the second little wife rushed outside.
When people came, the next morning, they found in the hut only a corpse, and this already swollen.
And this litTle story, too, that’s all. It ends there.
[ BENA MUKUNI ]