A. B. Frost.
“ ‘Ef you wanter projick, Brer Fox, you’ll hatter go home an’ projick wid dem what wanter be projicked wid. I ain’t here kaze I wanter be here. You ax me fer ter show you my laughin’-place, an’ I ’greed. I speck we better be gwine on back.’ Brer Fox say he come fer ter see Brer Rabbit’s laughin’-place, an’ he ain’t gwine ter be satchify twel he see it. Brer Rabbit ’low dat ef dat de case, den he mus’ ac’ de gentermun all de way thoo, an’ quit his behavishness. Brer Fox say he’ll do de best he kin, an’ den Brer Rabbit show ’im a place whar de bamboo briars, an’ de blackberry bushes, an’ de honeysuckles done start ter come in de pine thicket, an’ can’t come no furder.
A. B. Frost.
“Twa’n’t no thick place; ’twuz des what de swamp at de foot er de hill peter’d out in tryin’ ter come ter dry lan’. De bushes an’ vines wuz thin an’ scanty, an’ ef dey could a talked dey’d a hollered loud fer water.
“Brer Rabbit show Brer Fox de place, an’ den tell ’im dat de game is fer ter run full tilt thoo de vines an’ bushes, an’ den run back, an’ thoo um ag’in an’ back, an’ he say he’d bet a plug er terbacker ’g’in a ginger cake dat by de time Brer Fox done dis he’d be dat tickled dat he can’t stan’ up fer laughin’. Brer Fox shuck his head; he ain’t nigh b’lieve it, but fer all dat, he make up his min’ fer to do what Brer Rabbit say, spite er de fac’ dat his ol’ ’oman done tell ’im ’fo’ he lef’ home dat he better keep his eye open, kaze Brer Rabbit gwine ter run a rig on ’im.
A. B. Frost.
“He tuck a runnin’ start, he did, an’ he went thoo de bushes an’ de vines like he wuz runnin’ a race. He run an’ he come back a-runnin’, an’ he run back, an’ dat time he struck sump’n’ wid his head. He try ter dodge it, but he seed it too late, an’ he wuz gwine too fas’. He struck it, he did, an’ time he do dat, he fetched a howl dat you might a hearn a mile, an’ atter dat, he holler’d yap, yap, yap, an’ ouch, ouch, ouch an’ yow, yow, yow, an’ whiles dis wuz gwine on Brer Rabbit wuz thumpin’ de ground wid his behime foot, an’ laughin’ fit ter kill. Brer Fox run ’roun’ an’ ’roun’, an’ kep’ on snappin’ at hisse’f an’ doin’ like he wuz tryin’ fer ter t’ar his hide off. He run, an’ he roll, an’ wallow, an’ holler, an’ fall, an’ squall twel it look like he wuz havin’ forty-lev’m duck fits.
“He got still atter while, but de mo’ stiller he got, de wuss he looked. His head wuz all swell up, an’ he look like he been run over in de road by a fo’-mule waggin.11 Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘I’m glad you had sech a good time, Brer Fox; I’ll hatter fetch you out ag’in. You sho done like you was havin’ fun.’ Brer Fox ain’t say a word; he wuz too mad fer ter talk. He des sot aroun’ and lick hisse’f an’ try ter git his ha’r straight. Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘You ripped aroun’ in dar twel I wuz skeer’d you wuz gwine ter hurt yo’se’f, an’ I b’lieve in my soul you done gone an’ bump yo’ head ag’in’ a tree, kaze it’s all swell up. You better go home, Brer Fox, an’ let yo’ ol’ ’oman poultice you up.’
“Brer Fox show his tushes, an’ say, ‘You said dis wuz a laughin’-place.’ Brer Rabbit ’low, ‘I said ’twuz my laughin’-place, an’ I’ll say it ag’in. What you reckon I been doin’ all dis time? Ain’t you hear me laughin’? An’ what you been doin’? I hear you makin’ a mighty fuss in dar, an’ I say ter myse’f dat Brer Fox is havin’ a mighty big time.’
“ ‘I let you know dat I ain’t been laughin’,’ sez Brer Fox, sezee.”
Uncle Remus paused, and waited to be questioned. “What was the matter with the Fox, if he wasn’t laughing?” the child asked after a thoughtful moment.
Uncle Remus flung his head back, and cried out in a sing-song tone,
“He run ter de Eas’, an’ he run ter de Wes’
An’ jammed his head in a hornets’ nes’!”
Once again, perspective is everything in African American folklore. In this case Brer Rabbit’s laughing-place becomes a site of torture for Brer Fox. Cruelty triumphs in this tale, and it can hardly be said to send a message appropriate for children. But it does serve to put a smile on the “grave little face” of the boy to whom Uncle Remus tells the story.
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1 spang: directly, squarely
2 ’Lantamatantarum: A fanciful name for Atlanta.
3 my rheumatism: The inventory of “laughable” items of clothing reveals that Uncle Remus is not only dependent on the charity of the little boy’s family but has also been worn down by work.
4 trying fer ter git money: The “laughin’ times” refers to the antebellum South, which is contrasted to the Reconstruction era, with its opportunistic mindset. The irony escapes Uncle Remus.
5 slonchidickler: oblique, ironic
6 fotch on an’er twel: fetched or led to another twelve
7 Tushes: teeth
8 sesso: say so
9 try their hand at laughing: The little boy tries to show his wisdom by laughing at the notion that animals can laugh but he quickly learns to suspend disbelief.
10 a-projickin’: fooling
11 fo’-mule waggin: four-mule wagon
BROTHER RABBIT DOESN’T GO TO SEE AUNT NANCY
Uncle Remus, one day, was doing his best to patch an old waistcoat.1 The little boy was interested in this work mainly because it became necessary once and again for the old man to thread the large needle with which he was doing his work. Sometimes he tried to place the thread in the sharp end, where there was no eye, and even when he held it correctly, it required several attempts before he succeeded. He watched the little boy closely at each effort, expecting him to laugh at his failures, but the youngster was as solemn as could be desired.
“I wuz des a-wonderin’,” Uncle Remus declared in the midst of his mending, “ef you had de strenk fer ter go on a long journey.” “On the wagon, or in the train?” inquired the little boy. Uncle Remus chuckled, “No, honey; ef we go we’ll hatter set right whar we is an’ let time take us. You know how de birds does—de peckerwoods, an’ de swallers, an’ de bee-martins; dey’ll ketch bugs roun’ here de whole blessed summer, an’ den, ’fo’ fros’ comes, dey’ll h’ist up an’ fly off some’rs, I dunner whar. Dey has der seasons an’ der reason fer comin’ an’ gwine.2 Well, des ez de birds does now, des dat-a-way de creeturs done twel Brer Rabbit tuck an’ broke it up. It seem like dat when de time come, dey ’gun ter feel ticklish; dey had dat creepy feelin’ runnin’ up an’ down der backbones like folks does when a possum runs cross der grave.”3
Uncle Remus looked hard at the little boy4 to observe what effect his last statement would have, but beyond moving uneasily in his seat, the lad gave no sign of mental disturbance.
“It seem like,” Uncle Remus went on, “dat all de creeturs, big an’ little, long-tail, bob-tail, an’ no-tail, hatter go once a year fer ter make der peace wid ol’ Aunt Nancy.”
“But who was Aunt Nancy?” the child asked.
“It seem like,” the old man responded, “dat she was de granny er Mammy-Bammy-Big-Money5—dat’s de way dey han’ it out ter me. Her rule went furder dan whar she live at, an’ when she went ter call de creeturs, all she hatter do wuz ter fling her head back an’ kinder suck in her bref an’ all de creeturs would have a little chill, an’ know dat she wuz a-callin’ un um. But ol’ Brer Rabbit, he got over havin’ de chill,6 an’ he say he wa’n’t gwine trapesin’ way off ter de fur country fer ter see no Aunt Nancy. De creeturs all tell ’im dat he better come on an’ go, but he say he done been an’ seed, an’ he wa’n’t gwine no mo’. He ’low, ‘when you-all git whar you gwine des ax Aunt Nancy fer ter shake han’s wid you, an’ den you’ll see what I done seed.’
“De yuther creeturs shuck der heads, but went on an’ lef’ Brer Rabbit smokin’ his corn-cob pipe an’ chawin’ his cud. Dey went on, an’ bimeby dey come ter Aunt Nancy’s house. Ef you’d a’ seed it, honey, you’d ’a’ said it look des like a big chunk er fog.7 I speck ’twuz
ez bi ez dis house, but it kinder wavied in de win’ des like de fog you see on de two-mile branch.
“Ol’ Brer B’ar, he hailed de house, an’ den ol’ Aunt Nancy, she come out wid a big long cloak on her an’ sot down on a pine stump. She look roun’, she did, an’ her eyeballs sparkle red des like dey wuz afire. ‘I hope all un you is here,’ se’ she, ‘an’ I speck you is, but I’m agwine ter count you an’ call de roll.’
“Eve’y count she made, she’d nod her head, an’ de creetur dat she nodded at an’ had her red eye on, would dodge and duck his head. Well, she count an’ count, an’ when she git thoo, she say, ‘I done counted, an’ ef dey ain’t one un you missin’, I’m might much mistooken.’ She helt Brer Fox with her red eye, an’ he up an’ say, ‘I speck ’tain’t nobody in de roun’ worl’ but Brer Rabbit.’
“Aunt Nancy say, se’ she, ‘I’ll Brer him! Is he sont8 any skuse?’
“An’ Brer Wolf, he tuck up de tail, an’ say, ‘No, ma’am, not ez I knows un.’
“Den ol’ Brer B’ar, he say, ‘Brer Rabbit sont word fer ter tell you howdy, an’ he ax us fer ter tell you ter shake han’s wid us, an’ ’member him in yo’ dreams.’
“Aunt Nancy roll her red eye an’ work her jaws like she chawin’ sump’n’ good.9 She say, se’ she, ‘Is dat what he tell you? Well you des tell ’im, dat ef he’ll come ter dis place I’ll shake han’s wid ’im, an’ ef he don’t come ez hard ez his legs’ll fetch ’im, I’ll go an’ shake han’s wid ’im whar he lives at.’
“Ol Brer B’ar, he up an’ say, ‘How come you don’t shake han’s wid we-all, when we come so fur fer ter se you?’
“Aunt Nancy roll her red eyes an’ work her jaws. She got up fum whar she was settin’ at, an’ try fer ter pull de cloak close ’roun’ her, but it slipped off a little way, an’ de creeturs what wuz watchin’ un her, seed wid der own eyes that she wuz half ’oman an’ half spider.10 She had sev’m arms an’ no han’s. When dey see all dis, de creeturs tuck ter de woods, an’ got away fum dar des ez hard ez dey kin. An’ dat de reason de house look like it ’uz made out’n fog. It ’uz wovened out’n web;11 ’twuz web fum top ter bottom. De creeturs went back an’ tol’ Brer Rabbit what dey done seed, an’ he jump up an’ crack his heels tergedder, an’ holler ‘Ah-yi!’ an’ den he went on chawin’ his cud like nothin’ ain’t happen.”
This tale remained in the Joel Chandler Harris Memorial Collection of Emory University until 1948, when it was published with six others to celebrate the centennial of Harris’s birth. The male archetypes of the Yoruba trickster Esu Elegbara and Anansi the Spider are replaced in this tale by a mysterious female figure who is connected with threads, webs, and spinning and who demands that her subjects pay tribute to her with an annual visit. Unlike Esu Elegbara and Anansi, she inspires more dread than reverence and admiration.
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1 to patch an old waistcoat: Uncle Remus’s needle and thread connect him to Aunt Nancy, who spins and weaves, with one telling yarns and the other inspiring a story that is told to Brer Rabbit, and in turn to the young boy. That Uncle Remus has to patch despite his advanced age—he has trouble threading a needle—is another sign of the social divide between old man and young boy.
2 Dey has der seasons an’ der reason fer comin’ an’ gwine: Shanna Greene Benjamin points out that Remus uses folklore “to teach the young boy about the seasonal movement of animals,” and he creates a text “with textile qualities that enmeshes the young boy and readers alike in an enticing story line” (45–46). He also appears to be offering the boy a tutorial on the great existential mysteries, as part of the avowed “initiation” process.
3 when a possum runs cross der grave: “Someone is walking over my grave” is an odd phrase for a living person to use, but it is the equivalent of the Southern expression about a possum running across your (future) grave and giving you the shivers.
4 looked hard at the little boy: Uncle Remus seems here to do what many adults do when telling stories to children: monitoring effects to ensure that a story is not too much for a child.
5 de granny er Mammy-Bammy-Big-Money: In his introduction to Nights with Uncle Remus, Harris writes about how “the Rabbit seeks out Mammy-Bammy Big-Money, the old Witch-Rabbit.” “It may be mentioned here,” he adds, “that the various branches of the Algonkian [sic] family of Indians, allude to the Great White Rabbit as their common ancestor. All inquiries among the negroes, as to the origin and personality of Mammy-Bammy Big-Money, elicit but two replies. Some know, or even pretend to know, nothing about her. The rest say, with entire unanimity, ‘Hit’s des de old Witch-Rabbit w’at you done year’d talk un ’fo’ now.’ Mrs. Prioleau, of Memphis, sent the writer a negro story in which the name ‘Big-Money’ was vaguely used. It was some time before that story could be verified. In conversation one day with a negro, casual allusion was made to ‘Big-Money.’ ‘Aha!’ said the negro, ‘Now I know. You talkin’ ’bout ole Mammy-Bammy Big-Money,’ and then he went on to tell, not only the story which Mrs. Prioleau had kindly sent, but the story of Brother Rabbit’s visit to the old Witch-Rabbit.”
6 But ol’ Brer Rabbit, he got over havin’ de chill: It is, of course, supremely ironic that Brer Rabbit, who is an African American incarnation of Anansi, would be the first to express irreverence for a rival, female incarnation of Anansi.
7 it look des like a big chunk er fog: Aunt Nancy’s home is shrouded in mystery, and the “fog” conceals the webs that could function as a death trap.
8 sont: sent
9 work her jaws like she chawin’ sump’n’ good: Aunt Nancy’s chewing recalls Brer Rabbit’ “chawin’ his cud” at the first convocation of the animals. And the chewing activity is invoked at the end of the tale as well.
10 half ’oman an’ half spider: Aunt Nancy, who is both human and beast, spins her web in a space that unites earth and sky. Like Anansi, she occupies a liminal space but one that keeps her isolated and away from the social world.
11 It ’uz wovened out’n web: Aunt Nancy’s abode is constructed from the same kinds of threads Uncle Remus uses to patch his coat. It can be connected with weaving and storytelling but it is also, like spiderwebs, a place of dread and death.
THE ADVENTURES OF SIMON AND SUSANNA
“I got one tale on my min’,” said Uncle Remus to the little boy one night. “I got one tale on my min’ dat I ain’t ne’er tell you; I dunner how come; I speck it des kaze I git mixt up in my idees. Deze is busy times, mon, en de mo’ you does de mo’ you hatter do, en w’en dat de case, it ain’t ter be ’spected dat one ole broke-down nigger kin ’member ’bout eve’ything.”
“What is the story, Uncle Remus?” the little boy asked.
“Well, honey,” said the old man, wiping his spectacles, “hit sorter run dis away: One time dey wuz a man w’at had a mighty likely daughter.”
“Was he a white man or a black man?” the little boy asked.
“I ’clar’ ter gracious, honey!” exclaimed the old man, “you er pushin’ me mos’ too close. Fer all I kin tell you, de man mout er bin ez w’ite ez de driven snow, er he mout er bin de blackes’ Affi’kin1 er de whole kit en b’ilin’. I’m des tellin’ you de tale, en you kin take en take de man en w’itewash ’im, er you kin black ’im up des ez you please. Dat’s de way I looks at it.
“Well, one time dey wuz a man, en dish yer man he had a mighty likely daughter. She wuz so purty dat she had mo’ beaus2 den w’at you got fingers en toes. But de gal daddy, he got his spishuns3 ’bout all un um, en he won’t let um come ’roun’ de house. But dey kep’ on pesterin’ ’im so, dat bimeby he give word out dat de man w’at kin clear up six acres er lan’ en roll up de logs, en pile up de bresh in one day, dat man kin marry his daughter.
“In co’se, dis look like it unpossible, en all de beaus drap off ’ceppin’ one, en he wuz a great big strappin’ chap w’at look like he kin knock a steer down. Dis chap he wuz name Simon, en de gal, she wuz name Susanna.
Simon, he love Susanna, en Susanna, she love Simon, en dar it went.
“Well, sir, Simon, he went ter de gal daddy, he did, en he say dat ef anybody kin clear up dat lan’, he de one kin do it, least’ways he say he gwine try mighty hard. De ole man, he grin en rub his han’s terge’er, he did, en tole Simon ter start in de mornin’. Susanna, she makes out she wuz fixin’ sumpin in de cubberd, but she tuck ’n kiss ter hen’ at Simon, en nod ’er head. Dis all Simon want, en he went out er dar des ez happy ez a jay-bird atter he done robbed a sparrer-nes’.4
“Now, den,” Uncle Remus continued, settling himself more comfortably in his chair, “dish yer man wuz a witch.”
“Why, I thought a witch was a woman,” said the little boy.
The old man frowned and looked into the fire.
“Well, sir,” he remarked with some emphasis, “ef you er gwine ter tu’n de man inter a ’oman, den dey won’t be no tale, kaze dey’s bleege5 ter be a man right dar whar I put dis un. Hit’s des like I tole you ’bout de color er de man. Black ’im er whitewash ’im des ez you please, en ef you want ter put a frock on ’im ter boot, hit ain’t none er my business; but I’m gwine ter ’low he wuz a man ef it’s de las’ ac’.”
The little boy remained silent, and Uncle Remus went on:
“Now, den, dish yer man was a witch. He could cunjer folks, mo’ ’speshually dem folks w’at ain’t got no rabbit foot. He bin at his cunjerments so long, dat Susanna done learn mos’ all his tricks. So de nex’ mornin’ w’en Simon come by de house fer ter borry de ax,6 Susanna she run en got it fer ’im. She got it, she did, en den she sprinkles some black san’ on it, en say, ‘Ax, cut; cut, ax.’ Den she rub ’er ha’r ’cross it, en give it ter Simon. He tuck de ax, he did, en den Susanna say:
“ ‘Go down by de branch, git sev’n w’ite pebbles, put um in dis little cloth bag, en whenever you want the ax ter cut, shake um up.’
The Annotated African American Folktales Page 36
