African American Folktales

by Roger Abrahams

  Hunter did as Snake told. He sent word saying that he could cure the king, and asked as reward his release from prison arid the king’s daughter in marriage. The king was afraid that he was dying and so he consented.

  The king was quickly cured to health, and Hunter married the princess, and I know because I got drunk at the wedding.

  —-Surinam

  58

  THE ROOSTER GOES AWAY IN A HUFF

  Everybody in the farmyard was invited to a big supper and dance in another farmyard—ducks, geese, turkeys, guinea fowls, hens, roosters, and all. Who could pass up a big supper? So everyone went, of course, headed up by the big farmyard rooster, who strutted and crowed as he marched. Never have you heard such merry-making noise with all that quacking, cackling, and gabbling. After a few rounds of dancing to raise their appetites, they were allowed into the supper room. There was a big table sitting there just filled with plates of food as high as the old gobbler’s head when he stood all the way up. But when they looked, all the plates seemed to be heaped to the top with nothing but cornbread, pones upon pones, nothing else at all.

  Well now, the rooster got upset by all this. He said that he could get all the cornbread he wanted at home. So he went off in a huff. The others, however, were too hungry to care, so they fell to it. No sooner had they eaten the outside of the cornbread than they found inside a huge pile of bacon and greens. And at the bottom of that were pies and cakes and other good things.

  Poor Rooster, now, when he looked back and saw what he had walked away from. But it was too late now, for word of what he had said was out and no one ever knew Rooster to take back, even if he had to die for it. But now, you notice, whenever Rooster sees some food in front of him, he always scratches with his feet the place he finds the food, and he never leaves off scratching until he gets to the bottom of it.

  —American South

  INTRODUCTION

  In contrast to the moral tales of the last section are these stories of Trickster’s gross immoralities. Of course, from Trickster’s perspective, actions are not to be judged in terms of their consequences so much as whether he succeeds in his ventures or not. It is this very characteristic of outrageousness that places these stories at the imaginative center of the Afro-American repertoire. Trickster’s ability to dream up new and ever more clever and boundary-breaking schemes is matched by his extraordinarily nasty habits. Thus we often see him attacking the most basic distinctions between the clean and the dirty. He does not hesitate to steal, assault sexually, kill, and eat other animals. His appetites are immeasurable.

  He is a creature who lives on the margins of human society, but who often invades the human encampment as a spider, rabbit, pigeon—even a mangy, homeless dog.

  The antics of Anansi, Rabbit, and Pigeon have been exhibited in earlier sections. In these further adventures in outrageous fiction, we can see the trickster’s tremendous ingenuity in stirring things up and keeping them boiling; how he gets into a stew of his own making on many occasions, and how, as often as not, he uses his wits to get out of this trouble—often by getting someone else to take his place!

  A number of stories illustrate nicely the way in which Trickster establishes patterns of action (or at least seems to), and how others get caught when they try to imitate him. The classic story here, gory as it may seem to some, is “Crawling into the Elephant’s Belly.” But we also see what happens when Rabbit or Anansi tries his tricks once too often, as in “Anansi Plays Dead.”

  Trickster’s unbridled egotism runs as high as his clever wit. Both characteristics emerge again and again, but nowhere so clearly as in the first story in this section, in which Anansi tricks Master King into agreeing to name all stories for him. In fact, in the West Indies, not only are tales told in his name but so are jokes, riddles, and all other forms of nonsense that come up in wakes and are called Anansi Story.

  Anansi and Rabbit and the others are great talkers—even when they talk too fast or lisp or stutter—and great performers in general. They are found singing in a number of tales (“The Race between Toad and Donkey”), riddling (“Brer Rabbit’s Riddle”), even cutting a caper (“Dancing to the River”). Usually, these antics are carried out in the face of an authority figure, such as Massa King or his watchman, or form part of a contest with other, stronger animals.

  59

  WHY THEY NAME THE STORIES FOR ANANSI

  Once upon a time, Anansi decided that children should call all their stories after him. So he went to Master King and told him this, and Master King said, “Well, as you know, Blacksnake is a very wise and clever creature. If you can trick him and bring him back to me full-length on a pole, then I will have all those stories named for you.”

  Well, Nansi really wanted his name to be known this way, but it is very hard even to catch a snake. Nansi knew that Blacksnake really loved to eat pigs, so he went and set a trap for Blacksnake with a pig as bait. Mr. Blacksnake, though, was very clever and saw immediately that it was a trap, so when he got to it he just raised up his tail and slithered right over it, catching the pig in his mouth as he went by. He took it home and had a good dinner for himself.

  Well, Nansi then really had to think hard about how he was going to catch Blacksnake. So he tried again. He set another trap with a pig, this time in a place that he knew Mr. Snake passed each day of the week to go for water. Again, Mr. Blacksnake saw the trap, so he walked around it, took the pig, and went on his own way. He met Nansi then, and he said to him, “Nansi, you have been setting these traps for me all around. Why are you doing this when you know I am as wise and clever as you and any other creature?”

  So Nansi said, “Well, Mr. Blacksnake, I must tell you the truth. They were talking up there in Master King’s yard, and everyone was saying that of all the snakes, the longest is Mr. Yellowtail Snake. I tried to tell them you were much longer, but they just shouted, and so I bet money that you were the longest. So will you come with me and prove to Master King that you are longer than Mr. Yellowtail Snake?”

  Now, Blacksnake was very proud of his length. So he said, “As a matter of fact, Mr. Nansi, I am much longer than Yellowtail Snake, and I’m glad you told the king because he should know such things.” So Nansi said, “Well, how can we prove it to Master King? Why don’t you lay down as long as you can make yourself, and I’ll take you to Master King that way and we’ll just prove it together.” So Blacksnake thought for a while and he couldn’t see anything wrong with doing it that way, so he just lay down full-length, and stretched and stretched himself until he was stretched as full as he could get. And Nansi quickly tied him to a pole as tightly as he could.

  Nansi just threw that pole across his shoulder and carried him right up to the king: “Well, Master King, you see I brought Mr. Blacksnake to you tied up on a pole.” So the king said, “Well, after today, I’m going to call all those stories ‘Nansi Stories,’ and I’ll order everybody else to do the same, because you were able to trick the wisest and cleverest of the creatures.”

  So that’s how we get it that we call all these stories after Mr. Nansi.

  —Tobago

  60

  BROTHER RABBIT TAKES A WALK

  One time, the other creatures all got the laugh on Brer Rabbit, and this is how it happened. It seemed there was some kind of argument going on among them, and word went out that they all had to meet together somewhere to untangle the tanglements.

  When the time came, they were all there, and each one had something to say. They all had their plans, and they jabbered like folks do when they call themselves together just like they were being paid for talking. Mr. Dog got a seat close to Brer Rabbit, and when he opened his mouth to say something, his teeth looked awfully long and so strong, and they shined very white.

  Each time Mr. Dog would say something, Brer Rabbit would jump and dodge those teeth snapping away. Mr. Dog, he’d laugh; Brer Rabbit, he’d dodge and jump. It kept on this way until every time Brer Rabbit dodged and jumped, the other creatures wou
ld slap their hands together and break out laughing. Mr. Dog, he got a notion that they were laughing at him, and this made him so mad that he began to growl and snap. And it came to that pass that when Rabbit saw Mr. Dog make a motion to say a speech, he’d just drop down and get under the chair.

  Of course, this made them all laugh even worse and worse, and the more they laughed, the madder it made Mr. Dog, until he got so mad that he howled, and Brer Rabbit, he sat there and shook like he got a chill and fever.

  After a while, Brer Rabbit got sort of on the other side, and he made a speech, and he said there ought to be a law that made creatures who had sharp teeth catch and eat their food with their claws. All of them agreed to this except Mr. Dog, Brer Wolf, and Brer Fox.

  In those days, if all the creatures didn’t agree, they put it off until the next meeting and talked it over some more, and that’s what they did with the Brer Rabbit project: they put it off until the next time.

  Brer Rabbit got a sneaking notion that the creatures weren’t going to do as he wanted them to do, and he told Brer Wolf that he expected that the best way to handle the problem was to get all the creatures to agree to have Mr. Dog’s mouth sewn up because his teeth looked too venomous. Brer Wolf said they would vote for that.

  Sure enough, when the day came, Brer Rabbit got up and said that the best thing to do to have peace was to have Mr. Dog’s mouth sewn up so his teeth wouldn’t look so venomous. They all agreed, and then Mr. Lion, sitting up in the armchair, asked who was going to do the sewing?

  Then they all agreed that the man that wanted the sewing done, he was the man to do it, because then he’ll know it’s been done right. Brer Rabbit, he sort of thought about it, and said: “I don’t have a needle.” Brer Bear, he felt around in the flap of his coat collar, and he said: “Brer Rabbit, here is a great big one!” Brer Rabbit, he thought again, and then he said: “I don’t have any thread.” Brer Bear, he unraveled some thread from the bottom of his waistcoat and he said: “Here, Brer Rabbit; here’s a long one!”

  If it had been anybody else in the round world he’d have begun to feel sort of ticklish, but old Brer Rabbit, he just took it and put his finger across his nose and said: “Just hold him there for me, Brer Bear, and I’ll be much obliged to you. It’s just about my time of day to take a walk.”

  —Tobago

  61

  THE LION IN THE WELL

  Now, this tale is about how come Brer Rabbit doesn’t have to work no more. That came about this way:

  In those days, folks all lived in settlements and such, like they do today, and they were pretty good neighbors to one another and believed in having a good time.

  Things were going along mighty well until a big lion—the Boss of the Woods, he called himself—moved into the settlement where Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox and Brer Coon and all the folks lived. And he didn’t do nothing, he didn’t, but just lay around and destroyed pigs and goats and things, until after a while it looked like he was going to ruin the whole neighborhood and everyone in it.

  The folks all got together and held a meeting. And after lots of arguments, first this way and then that, they decided they’d have to tell Brer Lion that they just couldn’t stand it any longer, because if he kept up doing as he had been doing, that first and last there wouldn’t be anybody left but just Lion. They said they would agreed to feed him, because it wasn’t right to starve anybody to death, but if they did feed him, he should have to stay in his house and behave himself. And if he didn’t want to do that, they were going to be forced to call in the law on him and maybe put him in jail.

  Then Brer Fox, he jumped up and said, “Well, gentlemen, we have gotten this part of the matter settled now. The next thing is, who’s going to carry the news to Brer Lion?”

  That started another argument, because they knew Brer Lion was a bad man to fool with, and they all were scared. Brer Bear said he wouldn’t mind going down to Brer Lion’s house and telling him what the folks had to say, but he said he was already behind in his corn planting in his new ground and he just didn’t have the time.

  Brer Fox said he had to go and dig a well before his stock all perished for water, so he couldn’t go.

  They all gave first one kind of excuse and then another. Brer Goose said he just had to get in his field and cut grass; Brer Gobbler said Sis Turkey was sick with a terrible backache and he had to get home right away and tend to his children. Brer Pig said he had to go and root up his garden before it rained. It looked like all of them had some important business to tend to, and none of them could carry the news to Brer Lion.

  Then Brer Rabbit jumped up, and popped his heels together, and he said, “By golly, folks, if you’re all scared of him, I’m not!”

  Now, Brer Rabbit was a mighty good man, and a mighty smart one too; but he sure could curse when the occasion came up. He sure could do that.

  When I said Brer Rabbit was a good man, I meant he was a good neighbor and kindhearted. You never could rightly call Brer Rabbit a good Christian man, you couldn’t, and besides that, in those days things were different from what they are now.

  Brer Rabbit, he said, “Folks”—just shaking his head from side to side as if he was mad—“a man’s just a man and he isn’t any more one than anybody else. I’m like Brer Lion is. And I don’t care if you all are scared of him. I am not. Ah’ll take the news to him myself,”

  Then the folks all said, “Shucks, Brer Rabbit, you know you have more sense than that. Brer Lion is two, three times bigger than you are, and he’ll eat you up and won’t know he’s had a mou’ful. Aren’t you scared?” “Scared! Who? Me? Why, bless your souls, folks, I thought you already knew I’m not scared of anything or anybody. And just to prove it to you, I’m going down there and tell that old mangy-hided Brer Lion just exactly what we are going to do for him and just exactly what we aren’t. And if he doesn’t like it, he can just lump it. You wait here for me, folks, and I’ll show you.”

  With that, Brer Rabbit tucked his britches legs down in those red-top boots of his, pulled his white duck-cloth cap to one side of his head, and then, with a big cigar sticking out of his mouth, he sauntered off down the road toward Brer Lion’s house, as if he was going to a picnic.

  Brer Rabbit walked mighty biggity, he did, as long as the folks could see him; but when he got around a bend in the road, he rubbed that cigar out against a stump and put it in his pocket and he straightened his cap on his head and from then on, he walked differently. He was scared and his knees were shaking.

  When he got to the lion’s house, he crept up to the door and he knocked on it lightly, tap-tap-tap, and he said, “Mister Lion, Mister Lion.” And his voice was so weak and trembly he could hardly hear it himself. But the lion heard, and he threw open the door and hollered out loud, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

  Brer Rabbit was just shaking, “This is just me, Brer Rabbit, Mister Lion. The folks had a meeting,” he stuttered, “they had a meeting and they sent me down here to tell you that—to explain to you that they have decided—decided that as you are the big boss of the whole world it isn’t right for you to have to go out and get your own vittles. And—and they told me to tell you that—that if you’ll stay in your house all the time and don’t go out foraging, they will send you something to eat every day, right here. And that’s just exactly what they told me to tell you, Mister Lion.” And he got ready to run off. “WELL, I HAVE TO HAVE FRESH MEAT THREE TIMES A DAY,” the lion hollered at him. “IF THEY WILL DO THAT, I’LL STAY IN THE HOUSE. BUT IF THEY DON’T, I’M GOING TO DESTROY EVERYBODY.” Brer Rabbit, he said, “Yes sir, yes sir, Mister Lion, yes sir. They will do that for sure! They are going to feed you good, too, because I’m going to see to that myself.”

  With that, Brer Rabbit took off down the road, lickety-split. As soon as he was out of sight of Brer Lion, he stopped and knocked the dust off his boots, pulled the cap down on the side of his head again, and with that old cigar sticking out of one corner of his mouth, he strutted back to
where the folks were waiting for him.

  When they saw Brer Rabbit coming, they all ran out to meet him. “Did you see him?” they asked him. “Did you see Mister Lion? What did he say?” Then Brer Rabbit said, all puffy, “Have I seen him? Well, I went down there to see him, didn’t I? Of course I’ve seen him!” Then the folks all said, “Oh Lord, Brer Rabbit! You did? What did you tell him? Weren’t you scared?”

  When they asked him that, Brer Rabbit snatched his cap off of the side of his head and threw it down on the ground and stomped it. “Scared!” he said. “What in the name of God kind of foolishness are you talking about now? Why, folks,” he said, doubling up his fist and shaking it in all their faces, “I’m a man. A m-a-n, a m-a-n I tell you. And being as I’m a man, I’m not scared of nothing nor nobody, and that means Brer Lion and all the rest.”

  Then the folks just begged Brer Rabbit to tell them all about it. “Well,” said Brer Rabbit, “when I went down to old Brer Lion’s house, I knocked on the door, and when he opened it, I went in and sat down by the fire. And I told him that we had had a meeting and decided that he was raising too much disturbance in the neighborhood. And I told him we had decided he’d have to stay in his house and behave himself or else we would beat his liver out, and the Lord himself only knows what else. Then I told him we didn’t want to see anybody suffer and starve, so we would feed him, but he’d have to take just what we want to give him and be satisfied with it, or else he could just lump it.”