Fierce, Fearless and Free

by Lari Don

  The first night, he ate all the rice in one field. The next night, he ate all the rice in another field and trampled the plants into the ground. The third night, he ate all the rice in yet another field, trampled the plants and knocked down the fence.

  If the hippo destroyed their whole crop, the villagers would starve. So despite their fear of this fiery hippo, the villagers fetched their sharpest metal tools. They stood close together and ran at the hippo, hoping to drive him away with yells and blades.

  But when they struck the hippo, their blades bent and broke. The hippo’s skin was hard as stone. No matter how loudly they yelled, or how bravely they attacked, the hippo ignored them.

  The hippo just kept on eating their rice.

  The villagers decided they needed help to deal with this invincible fiery hippo. They needed Fara Maka.

  Fara Maka was the local magic-worker. In his youth he’d been a famous warrior, but now he spent his time teaching magic to his daughter Nana Miriam. He was teaching her how to discover the true names of things and how to use those names to draw on the power of everything around her.

  When the villagers told Fara Maka about the fiery hippo and the threat to their crops, Fara Maka said to Nana Miriam, ‘Lessons are over for today. I have to deal with a hippo.’

  He grabbed his spear and walked towards the river.

  Fara Maka’s spear had won him many battles. The shaft contained all the weight and strength of an ancient tree; the blade contained all the sharpness and danger of a snake’s fang.

  Fara Maka aimed at the hippo’s heart and threw his spear. The spear flew true through the air and struck the hippo in the perfect spot. But the spear bounced off the hippo’s skin, clattered along the ground and slid to Fara Maka’s feet.

  Fara Maka looked surprised. The hippo didn’t even look up.

  Fara Maka decided he needed help to deal with this invincible fiery hippo. He needed dogs.

  Fara Maka visited the local hunter and borrowed his pack of one hundred hunting hounds. Fara Maka hoped that while the ferocious fanged dogs distracted the hippo, he could attack the hippo’s most vulnerable areas – eyes, ears, nostrils – and drive the hippo away.

  He sent the hounds towards the hippo.

  But this hippo wasn’t just hungry for rice. The hippo snapped his jaws at the dogs, bit each dog in half, then swallowed each dog in two fast gulps.

  One hundred snaps. Two hundred gulps. And the dogs were gone.

  It wasn’t the distraction Fara Maka had planned, but while the hippo was eating the hounds, Fara Maka got close enough to attack the hippo’s face and ears with his spear.

  The spear just bounced off. The hippo ignored him and went back to eating rice.

  Fara Maka went home, sat down and put his head in his hands.

  ‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ asked Nana Miriam.

  Fara Maka told her about the hippo, the fire, the rice, the spear and the dogs. Then he said, ‘I don’t know what to do next.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help,’ said Nana Miriam.

  ‘What could you do? I haven’t taught you all my magic yet.’

  ‘I could try different tactics. You’re treating the hippo like an animal, attacking him with spears and dogs.’

  ‘He is an animal!’

  ‘Is he just an animal, though? He’s got water-proof fire, spear-proof skin and a never-full belly, so I think the hippo has something magical trapped inside, something powerful and hungry. I’ll speak to him as an equal, as one magic-user to another, and ask him politely to leave our village.’

  Fara Maka shrugged. ‘I suppose I have taught you to be polite.’ He picked up his spear. ‘I’ll come and protect you.’

  Nana Miriam shook her head. ‘You’ve already annoyed the hippo, you should stay well back.’

  As she left the house, she grabbed the belt she wore during her magic lessons, a belt with a dozen little bags dangling from it. She tied it round her waist and smiled at her dad. ‘Just in case asking nicely doesn’t work.’

  Nana Miriam walked towards the river, with Fara Maka following at a distance.

  She watched the hippo rise out of the water after a cooling dip and start eating the rice again.

  Nana Miriam called out, ‘Hello, hippo!’

  The hippo ignored her.

  She tried again. ‘Hello, hippo! I’ve come to ask, as one magic-user to another: please do me the courtesy of leaving my village.’

  The hippo ignored her.

  Nana Miriam said, ‘Hippo, please leave my village, or I will make you leave.’

  The hippo finally looked up. At this little girl, with a silly belt round her waist, daring to threaten him!

  The hippo laughed. As he laughed, he shook his big grey belly and all the drops of water on his shiny skin flew into the air. The drops joined together to make a ring of water, which whirled over to Nana Miriam and dropped down around her.

  Suddenly Nana Miriam was trapped inside a deep dark circle of water.

  The hippo kept laughing.

  But Nana Miriam just smiled. She reached into one of her little bags and took out a pinch of sawdust.

  She whispered to the sawdust, then sprinkled it on the water. And that tiny pinch of sawdust soaked up all the water.

  Nana Miriam walked three paces nearer the hippo, squelching over the damp earth with her bare toes. ‘I’ll ask again: hippo, please leave my village.’

  The hippo blew a breath at her. The gust of air drew a flame from the pot below his jaws. The flame flew towards Nana Miriam, circled round her, then touched the ground and started to burn the grass at her feet.

  Suddenly Nana Miriam was trapped inside a ring of flames higher than her head.

  She could hear the hippo laughing.

  Nana Miriam smiled, reached into one of her little bags and took out a pinch of soil.

  She whispered to the soil, then threw it on the fire. And that tiny pinch of soil smothered all the flames.

  Nana Miriam walked three more paces towards the hippo, scuffing the hot ash with her bare toes. ‘Hippo, this is the last time I will ask politely. Please leave my village.’

  The hippo bit down on the iron pot dangling below his jaws. As his teeth touched the metal, a ring of iron shot up out of the ground around Nana Miriam.

  Suddenly Nana Miriam was trapped inside a high wall of metal.

  She couldn’t see the hippo, but she could hear him laughing.

  Nana Miriam smiled, reached into one of her little bags and took out a tiny hammer.

  She whispered to the hammer, reached up high and tapped the metal wall.

  Clink…

  The metal wall shattered into thousands of shining fragments. Nana Miriam stepped carefully through them, avoiding the sharp edges with her bare toes.

  She called out, ‘I’ve been polite to you, though you haven’t been even slightly polite to me. Now I’m just going to tell you to GET OUT OF MY VILLAGE!’

  The hippo stared at this small girl, with her silly belt. And he didn’t laugh.

  Could this little girl drive him away? He’d tried to defeat her with water, fire and iron, but she was still there, still shouting at him.

  Perhaps she could drive him away!

  The hippo looked past Nana Miriam. In the distance he saw Fara Maka, standing watching with his spear in his hand.

  The hippo thought if he couldn’t defeat this girl with water, fire or iron, perhaps he could defeat her by harming someone she loved. So the hippo started to charge, not straight at Nana Miriam, but at an angle, towards Fara Maka.

  Nana Miriam watched this fast heavy vicious animal run towards her dad, who had only his spear to protect him. A spear that had already failed against this hippo.

  Nana Miriam dug her bare toes into the earth. She whispered the most powerful name she knew. She drew up as much strength as she could from the land.

  When the hippo charged past her, Nana Miriam reached out and grabbed his tail.

  She lifted the hippo into the air,
she whirled the hippo round her head and she threw the hippo away.

  The hippo with the fiery necklace flew over the rice fields, over the village, over the river and far, far away. The hippo hit the ground a whole year’s journey away from Nana Miriam’s village.

  I don’t know whether the thump when the hippo hit the ground knocked the hungry magic right out of him. But I do know that ever since that day no hippo, magical or not, has dared to eat even one grain of rice from Nana Miriam’s village.

  MARIA AND THE CONDOR

  ECUADORIAN FOLK TALE

  Maria lived on a small farm by a wide river, with her granny, her little brother and her little sister.

  Once a year, the river rose above its banks and flooded. Most years, the floods were low and slow and welcome, because they made the fields rich and fertile. But some years, when the winter snows were heavy and spring arrived suddenly, the floods could be high and fast and dangerous.

  In those years, local families ran to the mountains, to escape the floodwaters.

  One morning, Maria’s granny shouted, ‘The river’s rising fast! Pack your bags, we have to leave!’

  Maria and her little brother and her little sister each packed a loaf of bread, a knife and a blanket, then threw their bags on their backs and followed their granny out of the house.

  As she left, Maria saw a little spider spinning a silvery web in the corner of the doorframe.

  ‘Oh, clever spider,’ said Maria. ‘That’s a beautiful web, but you won’t get a chance to finish it. There’s a flood coming, you should scuttle away to safety!’ She waved at the spider and the spider waved back with its two front legs.

  Maria ran after her granny, her brother and her sister, with the rumble and roar of the flood behind her. When she caught up with them, they were arguing about the best way to reach the safety of the mountains.

  Maria didn’t join in the argument, because she’d just noticed a large heap of jagged black feathers slumped behind a fence. She looked over the fence.

  The heap of feathers was a condor, the huge soaring bird of the high mountains, with hooked beak, white ruff and massive wide black wings. But this condor wasn’t spreading his wings, he was hunched on the ground, muttering and grumbling.

  ‘Oh, majestic condor,’ said Maria. ‘There’s a flood coming, you should fly away to safety!’

  The condor snapped, ‘I can’t fly away, you stupid girl. Look at my feet.’

  Maria looked down. His huge taloned feet were trapped in a snare. She used her knife to slice through the snare.

  The condor spread his wide wings and flew into the air. ‘Why did you do that?’ he asked, as he circled above Maria.

  ‘I didn’t want you to drown in the flood.’

  ‘I suppose I should repay you for saving me,’ said the condor. ‘I will give you the traditional three favours. You may whistle for me three times and three times only, and each time I will grant you one favour.’

  The condor soared up towards the high peaks.

  Maria felt the ground rumble under her feet and heard the roar of the flood getting closer, so she ran to catch up with her family, who had finally stopped arguing about the best way to safety.

  But they’d agreed on the wrong path. Because soon Maria and her family stood at the foot of a cliff. They’d missed the turn-off to the gentle slopes, and followed a path to the base of a high rock face instead.

  The floodwaters were rushing towards them. There was no time to retrace their steps and find the other path. They had to reach the top of the cliff.

  So Maria, her granny, her little sister and her little brother all tried to climb the rock face. But it was impossible. There were no handholds, no footholds.

  Now the flood was so close they could smell the water in the air and feel the earth shaking under their feet.

  Maria looked at her family. Her granny, her sister, her brother.

  Three people.

  And Maria was owed three favours.

  So she whistled.

  The condor soared down on his wide wings. ‘Do you want a favour already?’

  ‘Yes, please lift my granny to the top of the cliff.’

  The condor grabbed the straps of her granny’s bag in his talons and flew her to the top of the cliff. He dropped the old woman on the hard ground with a thump. Maria’s granny was now safe, high above the approaching flood.

  The condor started to fly away.

  Maria whistled again.

  The condor soared down on his wide wings. ‘Do you want another favour already?’

  ‘Yes, please lift my little sister to the top of the cliff.’

  The condor grabbed the straps of her sister’s bag in his talons and flew her to the top of the cliff. He dropped the little girl on the hard ground with a thump. Maria’s sister was now safe, high above the approaching flood.

  The condor started to fly away.

  Maria whistled again.

  The condor soared down on his wide wings. ‘Do you want another favour already?’

  ‘Yes, please lift my brother to the top of the cliff.’

  The condor circled above her. ‘Can’t you count, stupid girl? I gave you three favours. You have already used two favours. Therefore you only have one favour left. This is your last favour. Your last chance. Why would you waste it on someone else?’

  Maria looked at her little brother, pressed against the cliff, pale-faced with fear. She looked at the brown waters rushing towards them both.

  Maria nodded. ‘I know this is my last favour and I also know that saving my brother is not a waste. Please lift him to the top of the cliff.’

  The condor grabbed the straps of her brother’s bag in his talons and flew him to the top of the cliff. He dropped the little boy on the hard ground with a thump. Maria’s brother was now safe, high above the approaching flood.

  The condor started to fly away.

  Maria thought: I saved the condor out of kindness, with no promise of reward, so maybe he’ll save me out of kindness too.

  She whistled.

  The condor kept flying away.

  Maria whistled again.

  The floodwaters arrived. The brown rushing water crashed against her legs and shoved her against the rock face.

  She whistled again.

  But the condor was just a black smudge in the distance.

  The condor wasn’t coming back.

  Maria looked up at her family, peering over the edge of the cliff. She looked down at the floodwater, rising higher and higher.

  ‘I’ll just have to save myself,’ said Maria.

  So she started to climb.

  She found cracks in the rock almost deep enough for her fingernails. She found bumps in the rock almost wide enough for her toes.

  She tried to climb the cliff. But her nails broke, and the rock was wet and slippy from the splashing floodwaters below.

  Maria slid off and fell into the rising flood.

  The water was deep and cold. The force of the flood battered her against the rock, then tried to drag her away from the cliff.

  Maria found a desperate burst of energy, hauled herself out and clung to the rock. She started to climb the cliff again.

  But now she was shivering with cold and trembling with fear. She slipped slowly down the cliff again, towards the fast floodwaters.

  Then she saw a silvery rope snake down the rock face towards her.

  Just before her toes touched the water, her fingers grabbed the rope.

  Maria used the silky soft slightly sticky rope to climb up and up, away from the cold flood.

  Finally, she reached the top of the rope and the top of the cliff. Her granny and sister and brother pulled her to safety.

  On the cliff edge, beside the silvery silky rope, Maria saw a little spider. The spider waved its two front legs. Maria waved back. ‘Thanks for spinning me a cobweb rope!’

  For two days, the family watched the floodwaters rise higher and higher, covering all the land they knew. For t
wo more days, they watched the waters fall, until they could see houses and fields again.

  They found the gentle sloping path down the mountain and walked back home. They dried and repaired their house, and planted seeds in their rich wet fields.

  For the rest of Maria’s long life, she was always happy to let spiders build webs in the corners of her house. But she never invited any condors round for tea.

  THE LACE DRAGON

  CHINESE FOLK TALE

  Once upon a time, in a small village near the mountains, there was a young lace-maker who worked with such skill and passion that her lace looked almost, but not quite, alive.

  Her lace flowers looked as if they were about to blow in a breeze and grow; her lace animals looked as if they were about to take a breath and move. When her family and friends wore her perfect lace, they felt surrounded by beauty, life and happiness, so they called her Sister Lace.

  She started to teach lace-making to other young women, hoping they could all sell their lace at faraway markets, so their whole village could become prosperous.

  The Chinese emperor heard of her wonderful lace and sent his guards to fetch the young lace-maker. Sister Lace didn’t want to leave her village, but the guards said they would drag her to the palace if she didn’t go willingly. So she packed her sharpest pins and bobbins of her finest thread, and said to her keen pupils, ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  When she arrived at the palace, the emperor said, ‘I’ve heard of your marvellous lace: the way the flowers seem to grow and the animals seem to breathe. I want that beauty all for myself. You will marry me, stay in my palace forever and make lace only for me.’

  Sister Lace didn’t want to stay in the palace, she wanted to go back to her village and share her skills. She didn’t want to make lace only for the emperor, she wanted everyone to enjoy her lace. And she really didn’t want to marry this selfish demanding man.

  She said politely, ‘No thank you, Your Majesty. I would prefer to return to my village and make lace with my friends and family.’

  ‘How dare you refuse me?’ The emperor turned to his guards. ‘Throw her in prison! Take her pins and thread away. Feed her on old rice and stagnant water. That will make her change her mind!’