The Annotated African American Folktales

by Henry Louis Gates

  HOW THE HOE CAME TO ASHANTI

  Kwaku Ananse, the Spider, and his children, Tikononkono (Big-big-head), Afudotwedotwe (Belly-like-to-burst), Nyiwankonfwea (Thin-shanks), lived at home along with Kotoko, the Porcupine. When the Porcupine began to work for the first time on a new farm, Kwaku, the Spider, begged for a piece of the farm to cultivate. And Kotoko gave him some. While Kwaku Ananse and his children were hoeing, the Porcupine went home to eat. And when the Porcupine returned, he took up his hoe and began to loosen the ground, raising his voice in song while he worked:

  Gyensaworowa, Kotoko saworowa,

  Gyensaworowa, Kotoko saworowa,

  Gyensaworowa.

  The hoe turned over a huge tract of land. Then they all stopped working, left the field, and the Porcupine took the hoe and hid it. Kwaku, the Spider, saw where he had put it. He said, “This hoe that I have seen, tomorrow, very, very early I shall come and take it to do my work.” Truly, very, very, very early, the Spider went and got it; he took it to his farm. Now the Spider did not know how to make it stop, and he raised his song:

  Gyensaworowa, Kotoko saworowa,

  Gyensaworowa, Kotoko saworowa,

  Gyensaworowa.

  And the hoe continued hoeing and would not stop. And it hoed until it traveled far, far away. Now it reached the Sea-god’s water. From there it reached the land of White-men-far, and the white men took it, and looked at it, and made others like it. That is how many European hoes came among the Ashanti. Formerly it was only Kotoko, the Porcupine, who had one.

  This, my story, which I have told, if it be sweet, or if it be not sweet, take some elsewhere, and let some come back to me.

  SOURCE: R. S. Rattray, ed., Akan-Ashanti Folk-Tales, 43.

  “How the Hoe Came to Ashanti,” from R. S. Rattray, ed., Akan-Ashanti Folk-Tales, 1930. By permission of Oxford University Press.

  THE DO-ALL AX

  No, don’t know as I can tell you anything with magic in it. How you expect I can tell you about magic when they ain’t no such thing? Of course, there’s two-three exceptions, like those flyin’ slaves in the old days. Folks say there was a couple of field hands down around Johnson’s Landing who didn’t like the way they was bein’ treated as slaves, and they just flapped their arms and took off. When last seen they was over the water headed east like a ball of fire.

  Then there was the do-all ax. It sure got magic in it, what I mean.

  The way it was, in the old days there was a man who had this do-all ax. When it was time to clear the trees off the ground to do some plantin’, this man’d take his ax and his rockin’ chair and go out and sit down in the shade. Then he’d sing a kind of song:

  Bo kee meeny, dah ko dee,

  Field need plantin’, get off my knee.

  That ax would just jump off his knee and start choppin’ wood without no one holdin’ onto the handle or anything. All by itself it went around cuttin’ down the timber till the field was cleared. Then it chopped up the trees into stovewood lengths and threw ’em in a pile in the barnyard.

  And next thing you know, this ax turn itself into a plow and went to plowin’ up the field to make ready for plantin’. And when that’s done, the plow turn into a corn planter and plant the corn.

  All the time this man who owned it was rockin’ back and forth in the shade, fannin’ himself with a leaf. Well, that corn was sure-enough magic corn, grew up almost as fast as it went in the ground; little sprouts start to pop out ’fore the sun went down.

  ’Bout this time the man sing another song:

  Kah bo denny, brukko bay

  Time for dinner, quit this play.

  Then the corn planter turned itself back into an ax and stopped workin’.

  Well, three-four days later that corn was tall and ready for hoein’. Man went out with his ax, and it turned into a hoe. It went up and down the rows by itself, hoein’ corn till the whole field was done. Next week the man came back and the hoe turn itself into a corn knife to cut all them stalks down. You see, the whole job was done just by this here magic ax.

  Other folks used to come around and watch all these goin’s-on. Everybody figure if they only had an ax like that, life would be a powerful lot better for them.

  There was one man named Kwako who wanted that ax more’n anyone else. Said he reckoned he’d about die if he didn’t get that ax. And when there wasn’t nobody home one time, this Kwako went in and took it. Figured he’d get his own work done and then bring the ax back and wouldn’t nobody know the difference.

  He ran home and got his own rockin’ chair and went out in the field. Laid the ax across his lap and sang like the other man did:

  Bo kee meeny, dah ko dee,

  Field need plantin’, get off my knee.

  Man, that ax went to work. Chopped down all the trees, cut the wood up in stovewood lengths, and stacked it by the house. Then it turned itself to a plow and plowed the ground. Then it turned to a corn planter and planted corn. ’Bout the time it was done plantin’, the corn sprouts was already pokin’ through the ground.

  Kwako he was mighty pleased when he see all that. He sat rockin’ back and forth in the shade enjoyin’ himself real good. So when the corn was all planted he hollered, “That’s enough for now, come on home.” But corn planter didn’t pay no attention, just kept jumpin’ all around. Kwako hollered, “Didn’t you hear what I said? Quit all this foolishness and come on home.” Trouble was, he didn’t know the song to stop it. He should have said:

  Kah bo denny, brukko bay

  Time for dinner, quit this play.

  But he didn’t know the words, and he just kept hollerin’, and the corn planter just kept jumpin’ around, plantin’ corn, every-which-way till the seed was all gone. Then it turned into a hoe and started hoein’ up the field. Now that corn wasn’t tall enough to be hoed, and it got all chopped to little pieces. Man, that field was a mess. Kwako he ran back and forth tryin’ to catch the hoe, but he couldn’t make it, hoe moved around too fast. Next thing you know, the hoe turned into a corn knife and started cuttin’ in the air. But wasn’t no corn to cut. So it went over in the cotton field and started cuttin’ down the cotton. Just laid that cotton field low. And then it moved west, cuttin’ down everything in the way. And when last seen it was followin’ the settin’ sun. After that it was gone for good.

  Since that time there hasn’t ever been a magic do-all ax in this part of the world, and folks has to do their farmin’ the hard way.

  But get it out of your head that there’s magic things roundabout. What I told you is true, but it’s an exception.

  SOURCE: Harold Courlander, ed., Terrapin’s Pot of Sense, 80–83.

  “The Do-All Ax,” from Harold Courlander, ed., Terrapin’s Pot of Sense, 1957. Reprinted by permission of the Emma Courlander Trust.

  TESTIMONIALS ABOUT FLYING AFRICANS

  TESTIMONIALS ABOUT FLYING AFRICANS FROM DRUMS AND SHADOWS: SURVIVAL STUDIES AMONG THE GEORGIA COASTAL NEGROES

  The names of the informants are followed by the name of the towns in which they resided.

  JACK WILSON, OLD FORT

  “Muh mothuh use tuh tell me bout slabes jis bring obuh frum Africa wut hab duh supreme magic powuh. Deah wuz a magic pass wud date dey would pass tuh udduhs. Ef dey belieb in dis magic, dey could scape an fly back tuh Africa. I hab a uncle wut could wuk dis magic. He could disappeah lak duh win, jis walk off duh plantation an stay way fuh weeks at a time. One time he git cawnuhed by duh putrolmun an he jis walk up to a tree an he say, ‘I tink I go intuh dis tree.’ Den he disappeah right in duh tree” (22–23).

  ANONYMOUS, SPRINGFIELD

  “Ise heahd lots uh stories bout folks wut could fly. Some time back I wuz libin in Woodville wen a man come tru deah. He wuz from Liberty County. Dis man talk lot bout duh story uh duh Africans wut could fly. He say all dis wuz true. He say he wuz takin awduhs fuh wings an dey wuz all yuh need tuh fly. A peah uh wings coss twenty-five dolluhs. Duh man take yuh measure an a five dolluh deposit an say he collec duh ba
lance wen he delibuh duh wings. Lots uh people gib deah awduh fuh wings, cuz all deah libes dey been heahin bout folks wut could fly. Duh man jis go roun takin awduhs an collectin five dolluhs. Das duh las any ub us ebuh heah uh duh man aw duh wings” (53).

  PAUL SINGLETON, TIN CITY

  “Muh daddy use tuh tell me all duh time bout folks wut could fly back to Africa. Dey could take wing and jis fly off” (31).

  MOSE BROWN, TIN CITY

  “My gran use tuh tell me bout folks flyin back tuh Africa. A man an his wife wuz brung from Africa. Wen dey fine out dey wuz slaves an got treat so bahd, dey jis fret an fret. One day dey wuz standin wid some uddah slabes an all ub a sudden dey say, ‘We gwine back tuh Africa. So goodie bye, goodie bye.’ Den dey flied right out uh sight” (32).

  JAMES MOORE, TIN CITY

  “Deah’s lots uh strange tings dat happen. I seen folks disappeah right fo muh eyes. Jis go right out uh sight. Dey do say dat people brought fum Africa in slabery times could disappeah an fly right back tuh Africa. Frum duh tings I see myself I blieb dat dey could do this” (34).

  SERINA HALL, WHITE BLUFF

  “Muh ma tell me many times bout a man an his wife wut could wuk conjuh. Anytime dey want tuh dey would fly back tuh Africa and den come back agen tuh duh plantation. Dey come back cuz dey hab some chillun wut didn hab duh powuh tuh fly an hab tuh stay on duh plantation. One uh duh daughtuhs wanted tuh lun fly an wuk cunjuh. Duh faduh tell uh she hab tuh lun duh passwud, den she hab tuh kill a man by conjuh. Attuh dis den she would hab duh powuh. Duh magic passwud mean sumpm like dis, ‘Who loss duh key Branzobo?’ ” (88).

  SHAD HALL, SAPELO ISLAND

  “Doze folks could fly too. Dey tell me deah’s a lot ub um, wut wuz bring heah an dey ain much good. Duh massuh was fixin tuh tie um up tuh whip um. Dey say, ‘Massuh, yuh ain gwine lick me,’ an wid dat dey runs down tuh duh ribbuh. Duh obuhseeuh [overseer] he sho tought he ketch um wen dey get tuh duh ribbuh. But fo he could git tuh um, dey riz up in duh eah an fly way. Dey fly right back tuh Africa. I tink dat happen on Butler Ilun [Island]” (172).

  PRISCILLA MCCULLOUGH, DARIEN

  “Duh slabes wuz out in duh fiel wukin. All ub a sudden dey git tuhgedduh an staht tuh moob roun in a ring. Roun dey go fastuhnfastuh. Den one by one dey riz up an take wing an fly lak a bud [bird]. Duh obuhseeuh [overseer] heah duh noise an he come out an he see duh slabes riz up in duh eah and fly back tuh Africa. He run an he ketch duh las one by duh foot jis as he wuz bout tuh fly off. I dohn know ef he wuz neah nuff tuh pull um back down an keep um frum goin off” (158).

  WALLACE QUARTERMAN, DARIEN

  “I membuhs one boatload uh seben aw eight wut come down frum Savannah. Dat wuz jis a lill befo duh waw. Robbie McQueen wuz African an Katie an ole man Jacob King, dey’s all African. I membuhs um all. Ole man King he lib till he ole, lib till I hep bury um. But yuh caahn unduhstan much wut deze people say. Dey caahn unduhstan yo talk an you caahn unduhstan dey talk. Dey go ‘quack, quack, quack,’ jis as fas as a hawse kin run, an muh pa say, ‘Ain’ no good tuh lissen tuh um.’ Dey git long all right but yuh know dey wuz a lot ub um wut ain stay down yuh. . . .

  “Ain yuh heah bout um? Well, at dat time Mr. Blue he wu duh obuhseeuh an Mr. Blue put um in duh fiel, but he couldn do nuttn wid um. Dey gabble, gabble, gabble, an nobody couldn unduhstan um an dey didn know how tuh wuk right. Mr. Blue he go down one mawnin wid a long whip fuh tuh whip um good. . . . Dey’s foolish actin. He got tuh whip um, Mr. Blue, he ain hab no choice. Anyways, he whip um good an dey gits tuhgedduh an stick duh hoe in duh fiel an den say ‘quack, quack, quack,’ an dey riz up in duh sky an tun hesef intuh buzzuds an fly right back tuh Africa. . . . Dey sho lef duh hoe stannin in duh fiel an dey riz right up an fly right back tuh Africa. . . .

  “I ain seen um. I bin tuh Skidaway, but I knowed plenty wut did see um, plenty wut wuz right deah in duh fiel wid um an seen duh hoe wut dey lef stickin up attuh dey done fly way” (154–55).

  BEN SULLIVAN

  “I ain heahd specially bout him [old Alexander] but Ise heahd plenty Africans talk bout flyin. Deah’s plenty ub em wut could fly. I sho heahd em talk bout great doins an Ise heahd ole Israel say duh hoe could wuk by itself ef yuh know wut tuh say tuh it. It bin a long time sence Ise tought bout tings lak dat, but ef uh studies bout em, dey comes back tuh me” (185).

  CARRIE HAMILTON

  “I hab heah uh dem people,” said this seventy year old woman, who has the tall, heavy frame of a plantation hoe hand. “Muh mudduh use tuh tell me bout em wen we set in du city mahket sellin vegetubbles an fruit. She say dat deah wuz a man an he wife an dey git fooled abode a slabe ship. Fus ting dey know dey wuz sole tuh a plantuh on St. Helena. So one day wen all duh slabe wuz tuhgedduh, dis man and he wife say, ‘We gwine back home, goodie bye, goodie bye,’ an jis like a bud they flew out uh sight” (42).

  TESTIMONIALS ABOUT FLYING AFRICANS FROM MONICA SCHULER, “ALAS, ALAS, KONGO”: A SOCIAL HISTORY OF INDENTURED AFRICAN IMMIGRATION INTO JAMAICA, 1841–1865, 93–96.

  The names of the informants are followed, when available, by the place and date on which they were interviewed.

  CHARLES MCKEN, ARCADIA, ST. THOMAS, 3 JULY 1971

  “They couldn’t go back . . . because they bring down the thing that they call mackerel, herring—a salt—we call mungwa—and after they eat it, they couldn’t go back. . . . When the people come a’ Jamaica and find out it . . . wasn’t so [good] . . . they want to go away back to Africa. Some fly. They fly a’ wing—like a dove—and they fly from Jamaica back to Africa.”

  ISHMAEL WEBSTER, WATERWORKS, WESTMORELAND, 8 AUGUST 1971

  “And why you hear they say they fly away . . . they couldn’t stand the work when the taskmaster flog them; and they get up and they just sing their language, and they clapping their hands—so—and they just stretch out, and them gone—so—right back. And they never come back.”

  ESTEBAN MONTEJO, CUBA

  “They flew through the sky and returned to their own lands. The Musundi Congolese were the ones that flew the most; they disappeared by means of witchcraft. They did the same as the Canary Island witches, but without making a sound. There are those who say the Negroes threw themselves into rivers. This is untrue. The truth is they fastened a chain to their waists which was full of magic. That was where their power came from.”

  JAMES COLLIER, BROWNVILLE

  “I have heard about a magic hoe that folks put in the ground. They speak certain words tuh it; then the hoe goes ahead an cultivates the gahden without anyone touching it. They jist tell it tuh do the wuk and it duz.”

  “Testimonials About Flying Africans,” from Georgia Writers’ Project, Drums and Shadows: Survival Studies among the Georgia Coastal Negroes, 1940. By permission of University of Georgia Press.

  PART II

  FEARS AND PHOBIAS: WITCHES, HANTS, AND SPOOKS

  Most reports about flying Africans feature heroic men who defy the chains of slavery and take flight. Some accounts describe wise old men, mysterious adepts, shaman figures, or charismatic leaders who, because they control language and know the “password,” enable a group of slaves to take wing.

  The dark doubles of courageous flying Africans are witches, sinister figures who are predominantly female and specialize in terrifying and torturing the victims they “ride” rather than liberating them. In Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884), Jim is famously the victim of witches, who ride him “all over the world, and tired him most to death, and his back was all over saddle-boils” (8). Affiliated with hoodoo, witches possess a set of ritualized domestic practices designed to assault the senses, inflict bodily pain, and kill desire. Strategies designed to identify witches and ward them off are enumerated in tales told about their powers.

  Belief in the existence of witches can be traced back to African myths about creatures that take human form during the day and change into animals at night. Melville Herskovits writes about the Dahomey belief in azondato, “dangerous individuals who turn into bats a
t night . . . and go forth to hold council together or to perform their dark deeds.” In Nigeria, witches (amozu) and wizards (ogboma) are said to take the form of owls, vultures, and night-birds. They can enter houses through the smallest cracks and attack their victims at night (Meek 1970, 79–80).

  African American witches did not become a part of the historical record, but they were a vibrant part of oral traditions and turn up in folklore as agents of evil, delighting in inflicting suffering, creating misery, and wreaking havoc. Often they act on their own, but they also stand ready to assist the desperate in exacting revenge, turning tables, or upending the status quo. Unlike the witches of other North American cultures, they are only peripherally affiliated with the devil, who can be invoked in the same breath with them but is rarely connected to them in any kind of meaningful alliance. Because witches offered a compelling explanation for a run of bad luck, they created a booming business for conjurers, who specialized in good-luck charms, talismans, brews, roots, and potions for reversing spells. Witches came to embody countercultural norms and subversive pleasures. Driven by a spirit of unruliness and disorder, they often acted opportunistically, tormenting their victims at random, wherever they could slip in undetected and test their powers.

  Both witches and conjurers entered into hoodoo rituals found in the diaspora, in places ranging from Louisiana and Brazil to Puerto Rico and Haiti. Hoodoo is a version of voodoo or voudou, a term derived from vodun, a collective designation for the religious practices from tribes of coastal West Africa. As the dominant source of syncretic religions in the diaspora, it led an underground existence that competed with official faiths authorized by slaveholders in the South. Zora Neale Hurston emphasized the furtive, fugitive nature of the belief system: “Nobody knows for sure how many thousands in America are warmed by the fire of hoodoo, because the worship is bound in secrecy. It is not the accepted theology of the Nation and so believers conceal their faith” (Hurston, Mules and Men, 185).