“Wow-wee! What are we going to do? See, what will we kill animals with to eat—See, if your town falls into ruin around you, you will take your knowledge and move on and kill other things to eat. But now that we have forgotten our most important thing, what are we, you and I, going to do? Young men, stand still a bit. The strong one who will run here, hoVoVovo, to go and hit that thing quickly to bring us the bag, who is he?”
One said, “No, as for me, I won’t go. That place that I have heard is so dangerous, should I go for the same thing to happen to me?”
Now, as it turned out, when they ran away like that, Rabbit climbed up, harr, with his bell and got inside the bag and pulled the strings, closing it, and then he sat still, sem, and they didn’t know what had happened.
So the chief was quiet a while, sem, and then said, “No, children, let’s not leave the bag like that. Send someone to go and get the bag.” (That was someone else talking to him.) So he said, “Okay, now the person who is going to run there is Hyena. Hyena is a powerful person. If the same thing happens, Hyena will escape.” (A powerful person never dies, does he?)
Hyena ran, hoVoVovo. When he came to the place, he threw something and hit the bag that Rabbit was inside, kpikirik kpikirik, he knocked the bag down. The bell was still, sem, Rabbit was inside it. And so he swung the bag over his shoulder, Rabbit and all! He didn’t know that Rabbit was inside it. He went along until he came to where the chief and the others were, and he said, “Sir, I have gotten the bag, our fortunes have changed now. Even though we have deserted our town, we will take this bag and move on and eat from it.” And the chief agreed, and took the bag and said, “You have acted like a man!” And then, just as he said that, just as he said, “You have acted like a man!” he, Rabbit, started, with the bell under his arm:
Gbeveveveveveveve!
My dogs don’t hunt with bells, sic ’em. Big Lion!
Hyena, it will get in my eyes, tendee vem It will get in my eyes, tendee
It will get in my eyes, tendee vem It will get in my eyes, tendee
The little animals have all died, tendee vem
When the Lion heard that, he was surprised and frightened. He said, “No sir-ee! He has arrived!” and he fell, hitting his neck on the ground, and he moaned, Hmmm’m!, thinking that his neck was broken and that he was already dead! And as he came, he fell into a great gully, and as he fell—
My head is open, to fe, fe ye
The world is ruined, to fe, fe ye
Let’s scatter, scatter, to fe See, it’s Rabbit’s town, to fe
See, it’s Rabbit’s town, to fe
The world is ruined, to fe, fe ye
Scatter, scatter, to fe, fe ye
The world is ruined, to fe, fe ye
Rabbit’s water.…
He ran on and on and on, and as he ran under a thorny vine to escape, a thorn pierced the string of the bag and, mgbot, the string broke and the bag fell—with Rabbit inside—to the ground. He came back, born, took all their plants and brought them back to the town that they had deserted. He gathered his family in the place that before had been forbidden, he gathered them and came and settled there, Deteng. And so all the strangers who came, just found him there, and they settled and made a great town. But the people who had been jealous, saying no one should come to their place, no one should come to their place, all of them have left that place, they no longer rule there.
This story is told to you by me, Daniel Ndanga, taking off my anklet-rings, ray ras, the story is over.*
—Gbaya
* This ending is Mr. Ndanga’s personal formula, used by no one else. He alludes, humorously, to the removal of anklets which marks the end of traditional dances by women.
47
Why the Dog Always
Chases Other Animals
In the olden days, there was once a dog. He was lying fast asleep in the ashes of a fire, in the middle of the forest. He was very warm, and very comfortable.
A monkey came by and saw the dog, and said: “Now what kind of a person is that, lying there so peacefully?”
He couldn’t decide, so he called the other animals of the forest. They came running in from all sides to see the strange thing the monkey had found.
The monkey turned first of all to the elephant. “What kind of a person is that?” he asked, pointing to the dog, “and what does he do?” “I’m sure I don’t know!” grumbled the elephant, flapping his big ears.
Then the monkey asked the okapi: “What kind of a person is that?” The okapi looked hard at the dog, shook his head, and blinked his velvety brown eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” he said.
Next, the pangolin came to have a look. He sharpened his claws and ruffled his scales and put out his long, thin tongue. He looked so wise that everyone thought that he must surely know. But the pangolin just curled himself up and went to sleep without saying a word.
The monkey called all the animals of the forest in turn, but none of them could say what manner of person the dog was.
The dog slept peacefully on.
Finally, when all the animals had come together, but no one could answer the monkey’s question, they heard a voice from way up in a tree. It was the old turtle.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Yes!” said the monkey, “But we can’t tell what it is or what it does.”
“That is a dog,” said the turtle, and he woke the dog up. “Dog!” he said, “Chase all these animals away!”
The dog, angry at being awakened from his sleep, leapt up and chased all the animals of the forest—the monkey, the wild pig, the elephant, the buffalo, and the chimpanzee—every one of them he chased right away. Then he came back and said: “And now, where is that animal that woke me up! I’m going to kill him—kill him completely!”
But the sly old turtle had crawled back into his house, and replied: “You can’t find me, dog, but from now on you will have to chase every animal you see.”
And so it is, even today.
—Ituri
48
The Story of Hlakanyana
Once upon a time there was a village with many women in it. All the women had children, except the wife of the chief. The children grew, and all the women gave birth to others; but the wife of the chief still had no child. So the people decided they would kill an ox to see if that would break the curse.
While they were sacrificing it, the chief’s wife heard a voice saying, “Bear me, mother, before the meat of my father is all finished.” It was the voice of Hlakanyana, the great one.
The woman did not pay any attention, thinking it was a ringing in her ears. The voice said again: “Bear me mother, before the meat of my father is all finished.”
The woman took a small piece of wood and cleaned her ears. She heard the voice again. Then she became excited. She said, “I have just now cleaned my ears, but still there is something in them; I would like to know what it is.” The voice said again: “Make haste and bear me, mother, before the meat of my father is all finished.”
The woman said: “What is this? there was never a child that could speak before it was born.”
The voice said again: “Bear me mother, as all my father’s cattle are being finished, and I have not yet eaten anything of them.” Then the woman gave birth to that child.
When she saw that to which she had given birth, she was very much astonished; it was a boy, but tiny in size and with the face of an old man.
He said to his mother: “Mother, give me a skin robe,” and she did. Then he went at once to the corral where the ox was being killed. He said to the chief, “Father, father, give me a piece of meat.”
The chief was astonished to hear this newborn child calling him father. He said: “Oh men, what thing is this that calls me father?” So he continued with the skinning of the ox. But Hlakanyana also continued to ask for meat. Finally, the chief became very angry, and pushed him, and ordered him away.
Hlakanyana said, “I am your child, give me meat.
” The chief picked up a stick, and said: “If you trouble me again, I will strike you with this.” Hlakanyana replied: “Give me meat first, and I will go away,” but because he was very angry, the chief would not answer.
Hlakanyana continued asking. Then the chief threw him out of the corral, and went on with his work. After a little time, the child returned, still asking.
So the chief said to the men that were with him: “What strange thing is this?” The men replied: “We don’t know him at all.” When the chief asked them their advice, they replied: “Give him a piece of meat.”
So the chief cut off a piece of meat and gave it to him. Hlakanyana ran to his mother and gave the meat to her to be cooked.
Then he returned to his father, and said again: “Father, give me some meat.”
The chief took him and trampled upon him, and left him there, thinking he was dead. But he rose again, and returned to his father, still saying, “Father, give me some meat.”
Then the chief, thinking to get rid of him by giving him meat again, gave him a piece of liver. Hlakanyana threw it away. Fat was then given to him. He put it down on one side. Flesh was then given to him, and a bone with much marrow in it.
Hlakanyana said: “I am a man today.” He said: “This is the beginning of my father’s cattle.”
At this time, the men were saying to each other: “Who will carry the meat to our huts?” Hlakanyana answered: “I will do it.” They said: “How can such a thing as you are carry meat?” Hlakanyana replied: “I am stronger then you—just see if you can lift this piece of meat.”
The men tried, but they could not lift it. Then Hlakanyana took the piece of meat and carried it out of the corral. The men said: “That will do. Now carry our meat for us.”
Hlakanyana took the meat and brought it to the house of his mother. He took blood and put it on the eating mats at the houses of the men. When the men went to their houses, and saw this, they called Hlakanyana, and asked him what he had done with the meat. He replied: “Surely, I put it here where the blood is. It must have been taken by the dogs. Surely the dogs have eaten it.”
Then those men beat the women and children because they did not guard the meat from the dogs. As for Hlakanyana, he was only delighted with this trick of his. He was more cunning than any of the old men.
Hlakanyana said to his mother that she must put the meat in the pot to cook, but that it must not be eaten before the next morning. Then, in the night, this cunning little fellow rose and went to the pot. Hearing the noise he made, his mother struck out with a stick. Hlakanyana cried like a dog. His mother said: “Surely a dog is eating the meat.” Later, when she had left, Hlakanyana returned to the pot and ate everything but the bones. In the morning, he asked his mother for meat. His mother went to the pot, and found nothing but bones. The cunning little fellow pretended to be astonished, and his mother told him that the meat had been eaten by a dog.
Hlakanyana said: “As that is so, give me the bones, for you who are the wife of the chief, should not eat from the same pot as a dog.” And his mother gave him the bones.
Hlakanyana went to sleep in the same house with the rest of the village boys, but they were unwilling to let him stay. Laughing, they said: “Who are you? You are just a child of a few days.” Hlakanyana answered: “I am older than you.”
He slept there that night. When the boys were asleep, he got up and went to the cattle corral. He killed two cows and ate all their insides. Then, he took blood and smeared it on one of the boys who was sleeping. In the morning, the men found the cows’ carcasses and went looking for the thief. When they found the boy with blood upon him, they killed him, thinking he was the robber.
Hlakanyana said to himself: “Today it has been seen who is a child and who is a man.”
Another day, the father of Hlakanyana killed an ox. The head was put in a pot to be cooked. Hlakanyana thought long about how he could get that meat. Finally, he drove all the cattle of the village into a forest, a very thick forest, and tied them by their tails to the trees. After that he cut his arms, and legs, and breast, with a sharp stone, and stood on a hill, and cried out with a loud voice: “The enemy has taken our cattle. The cattle are being driven away. Come up, come up, there is an army going away with the cattle.”
The men ran quickly to him. He said to them: “Why are you eating meat while the enemy is going away with the cattle? I was fighting with them; just look at my body.”
They saw he was covered with blood, and they believed it was as he said. So the men took their spears and ran after the cattle, but they took the wrong way. Only one old man, Hlakanyana, and the children were left behind, and the children were nowhere to be seen.
Then Hlakanyana said to the old man: “I am very tired with fighting; just go to the river, grandfather, and get some water.”
The old man went; and as soon as he was alone, Hlakanyana ate the meat that was in the pot and he filled the pot with dung. When the old man returned with the water, he was very tired, for the river was far for an old man to go, and therefore, he fell asleep. While he was sleeping, Hlakanyana took a bone and put it beside the old man. He also took some fat and put it on the mouth of the old man. Then he ran to the forest and let loose the cattle that he had tied by their tails.
At this time, the men were returning from seeking the enemy. Hlakanyana, coming from the other side with the cattle, shouted: “I have conquered the enemy.” He also said: “The meat must be eaten now.”
When they opened the pot they found no meat, only dung.
Then the men said: “Who has done this?”
Hlakanyana answered: “It must be the old man who is sleeping there.”
They looked, and saw the bone by the side of the old man, and the fat on his mouth. They decided then to kill him because he had stolen the meat of the chief.
When the children saw that the old man was to be killed, they told the men that he did not eat the meat of the chief.
The men said: “We saw fat on his mouth and a bone beside him.”
The children replied: “He didn’t do it. Hlakanyana did it. He ate the meat and put dung in the pot. We were hidden, and saw him.”
Hlakanyana denied it, of course. He said: “Let me go and ask the women; perhaps they saw who ate the meat of the chief.”
The men sent a young man with him to the women, but when they were a short distance away, Hlakanyana escaped.
The chief sent an army after him. The army pursued, and saw Hlakanyana sitting by a bush. They ran to catch him. When they came to the bush only an old woman was sitting there.
They said to her: “Where is Hlakanyana?”
The old woman replied: “He just went across the river. See you make haste to follow him, for the river is rising.”
The army crossed the river quickly. Then the old woman turned into Hlakanyana again. He said to himself: “I will now go on a journey, for I am wiser than the counselors of my father, since I am really older than they.”
The cunning little fellow went to a village where he saw an old woman sitting beside her house.
He said to her: “Would you like to be made young, grandmother?”
The old woman replied: “Yes, my grandchild, if you could make me young, I would be very glad.”
Hlakanyana said: “Take that pot, grandmother, and go for some water.”
The old woman replied: “I cannot walk.”
Hlakanyana said: “Just try, grandmother. The river is near, and may be you can reach it.” The old woman limped along and got the water.
Then Hlakanyana took a large pot, set it on the fire, and poured the water into it.
He said to the old woman: “You must cook me a little first, and then I will cook you a little.”
The old woman agreed to that. Hlakanyana was the first to be put in the pot. When the water began to get hot, he said: “Take me out, grandmother; I am in long enough.”
The old woman took him out, and got into the pot for her turn. Soon she said: “
Take me out now, my grandchild; I am in long enough.”
Hlakanyana replied: “Not yet, grandmother; it is not yet time.”
So the old woman died in the pot.
Hlakanyana took all the bones of the old woman and threw them away. He left only the toes and the fingers. Then he took the clothing of the old woman and put it on. The two sons of this old woman came from hunting.
They went into the hut, and said: “Whose meat is this in the pot?”
Hlakanyana was lying down. He said in a voice like that of their mother: “It is yours, my sons.”
Then, while they were eating, the younger one said: “Look at this, it is like the toe of mother.”
The elder one said: “How can you say such a thing? Did not mother give us this meat to eat?”
Again the younger one said: “Look at this, it is like the finger of mother.”
Hlakanyana said: “You are speaking evil of me, my son.”
Hlakanyana thought to himself: “I am going to be discovered, I guess it is time for me to get away.” So he slipped quietly out of the house. When he got a little way off, he called out: “You are eating your mother. Did anyone ever see people eating their mother before?”
The two young men took their spears and ran after him with their dogs. Just as they reached the river the cunning fellow changed himself into a little round stone on its banks. One of the young men picked it up, saying: “If I could see him, I would throw this stone at him.” The young man hurled the stone over the river, and it turned into Hlakanyana again. He just laughed and went on his way.
He was singing this song:
I met with Nonothloya.
We cooked each other,
I was half cooked,
She was well cooked.
Hlakanyana met a boy tending some goats. The boy had a digging stick with him. Hlakanyana proposed that they should hunt birds, and the boy agreed. They ran after birds the whole day.
In the evening, when the sun set, Hlakanyana said: “It is time now to roast our birds.”
African Folktales Page 22
