When his parents came back and found his empty hut, with both he and Maliepetsane gone, they guessed what had taken place, and were overcome with grief. They hastily fetched their herd of lovely cows and took them to the lake as an offering to the crocodile that lived there. Perhaps his power would help them in their sorrow.
They drove the cows to the water’s edge, and one by one they urged them in – and one by one the crocodile came up to eat them. As the last cow disappeared, the giant crocodile licked his lips, and crawled out upon the bank and looked at the two humans weeping on the shore.
He gazed at them in silence for a while, then he turned and swam beneath the surface of the water. When he returned, the bridegroom snake was with him. The two creatures climbed the river bank and then suddenly the crocodile turned and tore the reptile skin of the mighty snake from head to tail. Out of it stepped the handsome human form of a strong young man. The dreadful curse was lifted, and the bridegroom was free to walk on his own two legs for the first time in his life! Needless to say, his first journey was to the village of his wife’s guardians, to claim his bride.
There was rejoicing and thanksgiving when he arrived there – for Maliepetsane was quite convinced she had married a snake! All ended as it should, for the two of them enjoyed long years of happiness together among their children and their children’s children.
SEETEETELANE AND THE EGG-CHILD
LESOTHO
Seeteetelane and his blind old mother were so desperately poor that even their clothes and food had to come from the cane rats in the nearby river banks. From day to day the boy trapped these little creatures, and back at home he would skin and cook them for their supper. Then he would sew the little skins together into coverings, and that was all they had for warmth in the bitter cold of the winter nights.
If he had been lucky in his hunt, there would be breakfast for the morning, but if the catch had been a small one, he and his mother would go hungry.
Being blind, his mother was of little help to him, for she could not even gather wood, let alone do any cooking. It was therefore a hard life for the young boy, and little pleasure came his way. However, he took it all good-naturedly, and never complained.
One day when he returned from hunting, he stopped in surprise, for there laid out upon the floor of his mother’s hut, was a delicious meal. All their favourite foods and, joy of joys, no rat meat! He turned to his mother who was sitting in the shadows and said, “Mother, who brought this meal? And how did you manage to cook it?”
“Son,” she replied, “how, with my sightless eyes, could I see who came in and out? I have seen and heard nothing.”
So they ate heartily and slept equally well, thanking in their hearts whoever had provided their feast. And the next day Seeteetelane went back to the river to hunt for cane rats. Luck was against him this time, and he came back empty-handed.
As he went into his mother’s hut to warn her that they would be hungry that night, he felt behind the door where the wood was kept, for some kindling to start a fire. However, instead of feeling wood, he put his hand on something smooth and round. He jumped with fright, thinking he had touched a snake.
But he was wrong, for it was a large ostrich egg. “Oh!” he exclaimed to the egg, “where did you come from?” Here at least was something to eat for their evening meal.
He was about to pick it up and take it to his mother when it cracked in two, and out stepped a girl, more beautiful than any he had ever seen. She smiled and said, “Because you have always been a good and dutiful son to your blind old mother, I am going to help you – but there is a condition to my help. You must never, never, never let anyone know that I am an Egg-Child. If you want help from me, you must guard your tongue.”
Of course he promised faithfully. She disappeared and was soon back again with plenty of clothes and food. Time went on happily. The Egg-Child lived with them, and day after day she fed and clothed Seeteetelane and his mother by her magic, until the boy started to take all her help for granted. It sometimes happens that those who have everything done for them, lose the wish to work, and do nothing in return. Seeteetelane became just like that. Now that the food came easily, there was no point in going out to trap rats. So he never set any more traps. He no longer sat by the fire in the evenings, softening rat skins to make a warm winter covering. All things came without any effort, provided by the lovely girl from the magic egg. He accepted them as his right.
His idle thoughts now turned to his uncle who lived nearby. He began a habit of visiting his uncle’s village, where the dancing and the merrymaking continued all through the night. He returned to his blind and lonely old mother later and later, until one night, being too drunk to think what words he used, he called out loudly as he reached the door, “Where is the Egg-Child, and why is she not here to welcome me home?”
“What did you call me?” answered the girl from inside the hut. “You have broken your promise. Tomorrow you eat rat meat once more, and clothe yourself in rat skins!” While Seeteetelane slept that night, she gathered all the things that she had brought to the hut and disappeared, leaving him as poor as he had ever been.
Throughout the winter days and nights that followed, Seeteetelane and his mother hungered and shivered in the cold. Bitterly he regretted his broken promise to the lovely girl. One day he wept out loud, “The girl who was my friend has deserted us! How can I continue without her?”
His mother scolded him, “Your broken promise made her go. It’s all your fault. See the trouble that your stupidity has brought upon us both!”
Realising his foolishness at last, he made a promise to himself that he would never be tempted to visit his uncle’s village again. He kept that promise faithfully for many months. And he went back to his rat-hunting as in the past.
One day while he was out hunting, a flock of birds flew into his mother’s hut, bringing food with them. They swept the floor, and tidied all round. Then, making up the fire, they cooked a delicious meal. When Seeteetelane came back that evening, tired and hungry, he rejoiced to find a feast, once more, spread out upon the floor.
“Mother,” he said to the old woman, “who has done this?”
“How should I know?” she answered, “for I cannot see. All I heard was the soft fluttering of wings.”
They ate the food with joy, and slept that night with fresh blessings on the unknown giver of the food.
Seeteetelane was determined not to be lazy this second time, so went away as usual to hunt at the riverside. Again the same flock of birds came during his absence. This time they brought firewood as well as food, and this was more than welcome, for there was little fuel to be found on the bare hills around.
Again, on his return, Seeteetelane asked his mother who, she thought, was responsible for this kindness. “How should I know?” she answered. “Hide behind the door and see for yourself.”
Next day he followed his mother’s advice, and before he had been hiding long he heard the whirring of many wings, and the flock of little birds came into the hut as before. They swept the floor, and laid the fire ready to cook the food that they had brought. When the feast was ready they prepared to leave.
But before they had time to reach the door, Seeteetelane jumped from his hiding place, and closed it firmly on them.
The hut was straightaway filled with fluttering shapes, and in a flash the birds had disappeared while in their place appeared the same lovely girl who had helped him before. Now that he had found her again, Seeteetelane begged her to stay with him forever as his wife. The girl agreed, but made the same condition as before.
Once more she supplied their wants by her magic, and Seeteetelane kept his promise. But after some time had passed, his wife decided that she wanted to test him, so she asked to be taken to meet the uncle in whose company he had been so foolish in the past.
The path to his uncle’s village was now overgrown with weeds from lack of use. But when they reached the river, she told him to go on alone and b
ring his uncle to her. Before they parted she said to him, “Don’t start talking or you’ll be tempted to stay once more – and you might forget me!”
So Seeteetelane went on into the village, looking for his uncle. At first he took no notice of his old companions, who begged him to stay. But soon they had persuaded him to join them for just one drink of his uncle’s famous beer, and in no time he had forgotten all about his wife waiting for him at the riverside.
The evening came and then the night, and after making merry, Seeteetelane slept in his uncle’s hut. All through the night his wife waited, and early in the morning a neighbour saw her. “Who are you?” he asked, “and what are you doing here alone?”
“I have waited all night for my husband Seeteetelane,” she answered. “He has forgotten me while he celebrates with bad companions in his uncle’s hut.”
The neighbour took her to the uncle and said, “This is the wife who your nephew has left alone at the riverside all through the night.”
Even the uncle was horrified at such behaviour, but when he woke, Seeteetelane didn’t remember the hard lesson he had once learned. “Oh, don’t worry about her!” he yawned. “She is only an Egg-Child. She came out of an ostrich egg!”
“You have broken your word for the last time,” said his wife, breaking in. “I can trust you no longer. This time I will go for ever!”
True to her word she disappeared, never to return, leaving Seeteetelane and his mother to live once more on cane rats, and in the greatest poverty, to the end of their days.
Narrator: Melesala Khan
THAKANE
LESOTHO
Long, long ago, in the land now called Lesotho, there lived a man, his wife and five daughters. Thakane, the eldest, was lovely beyond imagining, and those who met her were charmed not only by her beauty, but by her gracious ways as well. However, she was as silent as she was lovely, and of the many suitors who had come hoping to marry her, not one had succeeded in persuading Thakane to talk. “What use is a wife who will not talk?” they asked, and she remained at home, still unmarried.
However, Masilo and Ntho, two close friends, were so attracted by her that they were determined that one of them would win her hand. So, when her father announced that he would give her to the man who first made her speak, these two youths came forward to try.
“May my blessing go with you,” said the father, “for I am weary of my daughter’s stubborn silence.”
The boys found Thakane hoeing out the weeds in her mother’s mabele field and, without a word, they joined her, hoeing at her side. Carefully Ntho turned the sods and tilled the ground, but Masilo pulled up the mabele plants one by one, and re-planted them upside down. He went on doing this for quite a while, while Thakane took no notice of him. But at last, she couldn’t bear it any longer. He was ruining the whole crop. So she burst out, “You fool! What do you imagine you are doing?”
“She has spoken! She has spoken!” cried Masilo, rushing to the girl’s father with the good news. As Masilo’s own father was a powerful chief, there was great rejoicing in Thakane’s family when they heard that such an important young man had won the silent beauty’s hand. But day after day Thakane hid in her mother’s hut, refusing to admit that she had been tricked into breaking her silence. So disappointed and frustrated, the two friends went home.
However, they were unable to forget the lovely, silent girl, so they came back and built two huts from which they could watch her from time to time.
As the months wore on, and the crops ripened, platforms were built from which the village children scared away the birds that came to eat the grain. One day, while Thakane was taking her turn at this task, Masilo and Ntho joined her and took over the work of chasing away the destructive birds. All through the scorching day the two of them watched the fields for her.
Neither of them said a word to her until, dry with thirst as the afternoon lengthened, Ntho asked for a melon from the adjoining field. Now, this particular field belonged to Thakane’s mother, and the melons were ripe and juicy. There was one melon of wondrous size and sweetness, and this one in particular the old woman prized beyond all the others. Her children knew that to touch it would anger her beyond words.
Risking her mother’s rage, Thakane picked the wonder-melon and handing it to Ntho said, “Only this, among all my mother’s fruits, is good enough for you. I am ready, and willing to be your wife.”
Ntho could hardly believe his good fortune, but before he had time to thank her, Thakane’s mother came to the field to pick her precious melon. Unable to find it, she called to Thakane to find what had become of it. There was no reply, and the old woman became very angry.
When the two youths realised that there was trouble on the way, they took refuge in one of the huts that they had built. Thakane, knowing only too well the power of her mother’s anger, called up the water from the river. Up, up, up it rose until it had formed a lake around them, which finally swallowed them, huts and all.
Thakane then ran into the water to join her chosen husband, and so escaped the lashing of her mother’s tongue. As she did so, one of her sisters saw her sink beneath the water. “Father,” the sister cried, “Thakane, our sister, has drowned herself, all because of our mother’s anger!”
In despair, her father called his friends, and together they searched the water that had appeared so mysteriously, but no trace of either the huts or the girl could they find. Hour after hour the old man sat at the water’s edge, sadly lamenting the loss of his lovely daughter, when unexpectedly, the water began to dry up before his very eyes, bringing the two huts to view again.
There the father found Masilo, Ntho and Thakane, laughing and talking as though nothing had happened. Seeing the look of happiness on the face of his strange and lovely daughter, he smiled with satisfaction and quietly went away.
But Thakane’s troubles were by no means at an end for, on the following morning the two youths decided to return to their parents’ village to make arrangements for the wedding feast. Telling Thakane to await their return, they left her. The girl begged them not to start the festivities before returning for her, in case with all the fun and laughter, they forgot to come back.
She was right in her worry because Masilo and Ntho danced for many days without once remembering their promise. Thakane grieved day after day but, still afraid of her mother’s anger she had no desire to return home. Eventually she decided to follow the two young men, and before long reached the river where the village women drew their daily water.
She waited sorrowfully on the bank for some hours, and at last slid beneath the surface of one of the deep crystal-clear pools, hoping that, if anyone saw her under the water, they would spread the news. She hoped this would remind Masilo and Ntho of their forgotten promise that they would return to her.
All through the morning Thakane waited beneath the water, and at midday a grizzled old woman came to draw water for her chief. Stooping to fill her gourd she saw a beautiful face looking up at her from the depths, and thought it was a reflection of her own. “What is this?” she exclaimed excitedly. “How have I become so beautiful? Surely with such beauty, I have no need to do a servant’s work? I will leave such to the plain and ugly!” So she returned to the village very pleased with herself, and sat in the sun for the rest of the day. But no one came to help Thakane.
When the beer-pots were finally empty, Masilo and Ntho remembered the reason for their visit. Highly ashamed, they hastened back to Thakane, but as they crossed the river at the village pool, they were astonished to see her lovely face looking reproachfully up at them from its depths. The two young men begged for her forgiveness and, being kind, she forgave them.
When the wedding ceremonies were over and Thakane’s relatives had returned to their homes, Ntho and his wife settled down happily and the young bride cheerfully hoed and tended her mother-in-law’s crops each day as a daughter-in-law should do.
One day on her way back from the fields, Thakane met a stran
ge-looking girl who was completely naked except for a torn and scanty goatskin which she clutched about her ugly body. “Have pity, kind stranger!” sobbed the girl. “My clothes were stolen by a wicked thief, and I am a long, long way from my home. Please lend me your clothes until I can find some for myself.”
Although Thakane was a tender-hearted girl, she was far too modest to go naked herself, so she refused the stranger’s request. At this the girl wept louder than ever, “May your husband’s cattle increase by hundreds if you will only lend me your clothes for a while. As a reward for your goodness I will provide the most luscious grazing for your husband’s herds!”
“Well,” thought Thakane, “a short while without my clothes seems to promise the reward of good pastures!” So, taking off her clothes, she handed them to the stranger and hid in a hut nearby.
When a long time had passed and the clothes had still not been returned, Thakane draped some creepers about her naked body and went to look for the ugly stranger. Eventually she found the girl, who refused to return Thakane’s clothes and said, “Let me wear them a little while longer, and in return I will provide your husband with a fine hut for his chickens!”
Before she had time to argue, the stranger had disappeared and Thakane crept back into the deserted hut. She was so ashamed of her nakedness that she asked the earthen floor to swallow her. This the floor obligingly did, covering up her shame. Let’s leave poor Thakane there for a while.
This was by no means the end of the stranger’s mischief for, having disguised her body in Thakane’s clothes, she now disguised her face to look like Thakane. Even Ntho was deceived. But although she tricked Ntho, Masilo was clever enough to see through the disguise and on the following day told Ntho’s mother.
“Ah!” whispered the mother, “it seems as though the evil one, ‘Tail-of-a-dog’ is at her tricks again.” Tail-of-a-dog was a troublesome woman who had been born with a dog’s tail, and who travelled around bringing trouble to all. “We will set a trap for her,” she decided, “which will trick this creature into showing whether she is a human or a dog.”
The Best of African Folklore Page 10
