Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Gassire’s eldest son was buried. Dierra mourned. The urn in which the body crouched was red with blood. That night Gassire took his lute and struck against the wood. The lute did not sing. Gassire was angry. He called his sons. Gassire said to his sons: “Tomorrow we ride against the Burdama.”
For seven days Gassire rode with the heroes to battle. Every day one of his sons accompanied him to be the first in the fighting. And on every one of these days Gassire carried the body of one of his sons, over his shoulder and over the lute, back into the city. And thus, on every evening, the blood of one of his sons dripped on to the lute. After the seven days of fighting there was a great mourning in Dierra. All the heroes and all the women wore red and white clothes. The blood of the Boroma [apparently in sacrifice] flowed everywhere. All the women wailed. All the men were angry. Before the eighth day of the fighting all the heroes and the men of Dierra gathered and spoke to Gassire: “Gassire, this shall have an end. We are willing to fight when it is necessary. But you, in your rage, go on fighting without sense or limit. Now go forth from Dierra! A few will join you and accompany you. Take your Boroma and your cattle. The rest of us incline more to life than fame. And while we do not wish to die fameless we have no wish to die for fame alone.”
The old wise man said: “Ah, Gassire! Thus will Wagadu be lost today for the first time.”
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Gassire and his last, his youngest, son, his wives, his friends, and his Boroma rode out into the desert. They rode through the Sahel. Many heroes rode with Gassire through the gates of the city. Many turned. A few accompanied Gassire and his youngest son into the Sahara.
They rode far: day and night. They came into the wilderness and in the loneliness they rested. All the heroes and all the women and all the Boroma slept. Gassire’s youngest son slept. Gassire was restive. He sat by the fire. He sat there long. Presently he slept. Suddenly he jumped up. Gassire listened. Close beside him Gassire heard a voice. It rang as though it came from himself. Gassire began to tremble. He heard the lute singing. The lute sang the story of the great deeds of Dausi.
When the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time, King Nganamba died in the city of Dierra; when the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time, Gassire’s rage melted; Gassire wept. When the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time, Wagadu disappeared—for the first time.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Four times Wagadu stood there in all her splendor. Four times Wagadu disappeared and was lost to human sight: once through vanity, once through falsehood, once through greed, and once through dissension. Four times Wagadu changed her name. First she was called Dierra, then Agada, then Ganna, then Silla. Four times she turned her face. Once to the north, once to the west, once to the east, and once to the south. For Wagadu, whenever men have seen her, has always had four gates: one to the north, one to the west, one to the east, and one to the south. Those are the directions whence the strength of Wagadu comes, the strength in which she endures no matter whether she be built of stone, wood, or earth, or lives but as a shadow in the mind and longing of her children. For, really, Wagadu is not of stone, not of wood, not of earth. Wagadu is the strength that lives in the hearts of men and is sometimes visible because eyes see her and ears hear the clash of swords and ring of shields, and is sometimes invisible because the indomitability of man has overtired her, so that she sleeps. Sleep came to Wagadu for the first time through vanity, for the second time through falsehood, for the third time through greed, and for the fourth time through dissension. Should Wagadu ever be found for the fifth time, then she will live so forecfully in the minds of men that she will never be lost again, so forcefully that vanity, falsehood, greed, and dissension will never be able to harm her.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Every time the guilt of man caused Wagadu to disappear she won a new beauty which made the splendor of her next appearance still more glorious. Vanity brought the song of the bards, which all peoples imitate and value today. Falsehood brought a rain of gold and pearls. Greed brought writing, as the Burdama still practice it today, and which in Wagadu was the business of the women. Dissension will enable the fifth Wagadu to be as enduring as the rain of the south and as the rocks of the Sahara, for every man will then have Wagadu in his heart and every woman Wagadu in her womb.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
—Soninke
79
The Mwindo Epic
The Courtship of Mukiti and Iyaugura
Long ago there was in a place a chief called Shemwindo. That chief built a village called Tubondo, in the state of Ihimbi. Shemwindo was born with a sister called Iyangura.
And in Shemwindo’s village there were seven meeting places of his people. When he became chief, Shemwindo married seven women. After Shemwindo had married those, his seven wives, he summoned his many people: the juniors and the seniors, the advisers, the counselors, and the nobles. All people, young and old, male and female, officeholder and commoner, were called to meet with him in council.
When they were together, Shemwindo sat down in the middle of them. He made a decree, saying: “You, my seven wives, the one who will bear a male child among you, I will kill; all of you must each give birth to girls only.” Having made this interdiction, he threw himself hurriedly into the houses of the wives, and then launched the sperm where his wives were.
Among his wives there was one who was beloved and another who was despised. The despised one had her house built next to the garbage heap and his other wives lived in the clearing in the middle of the village. After a certain number of days had elapsed, those seven wives became with child, and all at the same time.
Close to the village of Shemwindo there was a river in which there was a pool, and in this pool there was a water serpent, master of the unfathomable. In his dwelling place in the pool, the serpent Mukiti heard that downstream from him there was a chief who had a sister called Iyaugura. She glistened like dew reflecting the rays of the sun, she was so beautiful. Mukiti heard the news of the beauty of that young woman, Iyaugura, and he went to court her.
Mukiti, the water serpent, reached Tubondo; Shemwindo accommodated him in a guest house. When they were already in twilight, after having eaten dinner and food, Mukiti said to Shemwindo: “You, my uncle, my mother’s brother, I have come here where you are because of your sister Iyaugura.” Shemwindo gave Mukiti a black goat as a token of hospitality and, moreover, said to Mukiti that he would answer him tomorrow. Mukiti said: “Yes, my dear father, I am satisfied.”
When night turned day, when it was morning, Mukiti dressed himself up like the anus of a snail, the very cleanest of the clean. He was clothed with bunches of raphia fronds on the arms and on the legs, and with a belt of bongo antelope, and he also wore the isia crest of elephant tail and whiskers of leopard fixed in a brass disk on his head. In their homestead, Shemwindo and his sister Iyaugura also outdid themselves in dressing up. The moment Mukiti and Shemwindo saw each other, Mukiti said to his uncle: “I am astonished. Since I arrived, I have never met with my sister.” Hearing that, Shemwindo assembled all his people, the counselors and the nobles; he went with them into secret council. Shemwindo said to his people: “Our sister’s son has come to this village looking for my sister; and you then must answer him.” The counselors and nobles, hearing that, agreed, saying: “It is befitting that you first present Iyaugura to Mukiti.” They passed with Iyaugura before Mukiti. Mukiti, seeing the way in which Iyaugura was bursting with mature beauty, said to himself in his heart: “Now, she is not the one I expected to see; she is like a ntsembe tree in her beauty and blood.” Iyaugura, indeed, was dressed in two pieces of bark cloth imbued with red powder and mbea oil. Seeing each other, Mukiti and Iyaugura irresistibly darted against each other’s chest in salutation. Having thus greeted each other, Iyaugura said to Mu
kiti: “Do you really love me, Mukiti?” Mukiti told her: “Don’t raise your voice anymore, my wife; see how I am dancing, my back shivering like the raphia-tree larvae, and my cheeks holding in my laughing.”
After Mukiti and Iyaugura looked on each other like this, the counselors and nobles of Shemwindo answered Mukiti, saying: “We are satisfied, Mukiti, because of your word. Now you will go forth to gain treasures and trophies. Whether you win many, whether you win few, from now on you win them for us.” After Mukiti had been spoken to in such a manner, he returned home with soothed heart. During his absence, the villagers fixed him a seven-day feast in celebration of the valuables he would bring for his part of the marriage.
After Mukiti was home, he assembled his people and told them that he was just back from courting, that he had been asked for a great number of valuables, nine thousand, and a white goat, and a reddish one, and a black one, and one for sacrifice, and one for the sacred calabash, and one for the mother, and one for the young men. The counselors and the nobles, hearing that, clapped their hands, saying to their lord that they were satisfied, that they could not fail to find that payment of goods reasonable, because this maiden was not to be lost. After the seven days were up, in the morning, Mukiti took the marriage payments with him while his people remained behind.
On leaving his village the next morning, he went to spend the night in the village of the Baniyana. The Baniyana gave him a ram as a token of hospitality. Mukiti and his people slept in their village. In the morning, when Mukiti woke up, he propelled himself into the village of the Banamitandi, those kin of the spiders, those helpers of heroes. They gave Mukiti a goat as a token of hospitality. And so he spent the night there. In the morning, he and his people took a pathway out of the village, and at long last they came to the village of his wife’s family, in Tubondo, at Shemwindo’s.
When they arrived in Tubondo, Shemwindo showed them a guesthouse to sleep in, and also gave them a ram-goat as a present of hospitality. In the evening, Iyaugura heated water for her husband and they went together to wash themselves (for it is the custom for a wife to wash her husband’s feet before bed). Having finished, they anointed themselves with red powder and climbed into bed. Iyaugura put a leg across her husband.
In the morning, there was a holiday. Shemwindo assembled all his people and they sat together in a group. Then, Mukiti came out with the marriage payments and placed them before the elders of the village, who were very satisfied with them. They told him: “Well, you are a man—one who cannot be stopped by anything, one who is able to overcome fear and doubt.” After they had laid hold of the marriage payments, the people of Shemwindo told Mukiti to return to his village and they would bring his wife to him for the marriage. Hearing this, Mukiti said: “Absolutely all is well. What would be bad would be to be deceived.” He returned to his village and had his people prepare much food to entertain the guests to come.
Shemwindo, who had remained in his village, waited until Mukiti had been gone a day. In the morning, he set out to follow him, taking Iyaugura with him. The attendants carried Iyaugura, without allowing her foot to touch the ground, as they went through mud or water. When the attendants and the bride arrived at Mukiti’s, Mukiti showed them to a guesthouse, where they sat down. A rooster was caught and cooked “to clean the teeth.” In this guesthouse the elders had Iyaugura sit on a stool to indicate how significant this wedding would be.
When she was seated, she took out the remainder of the banana paste from which she had had breakfast in her mother’s house in their village. She and her husband, Mukiti, ate it. While they were eating, still more banana paste, with taro leaves, was being prepared for them. When the paste and the leaves were ready, the elders told Mukiti also to sit down on a stool, and they placed the paste between both of them. They told Iyaugura to grasp a piece of paste in her right hand and have her husband eat it along with a portion of meat. Iyaugura took a piece of paste from the dish, and fed it to her husband; and her husband took a piece of paste, and he, too, fed it to his wife. After both husband and wife had finished the ceremonial eating of the paste, the counselors of Mukiti gave Shemwindo and his people a strong young steer as a gift of hospitality.
After they had finished eating the steer, they spoke to Mukiti, saying: “Don’t turn our child here, whom you have just married, into a woman in ragged, soiled clothing. Don’t transform her into a servant who does nothing but work for you.”
After they had said this, in the early morning, right after awakening, they went, having been given money as a going-away gift by Mukiti. When the bridal attendants arrived in Tubondo, they were very happy, along with their chief, Shemwindo. By the river, where Mukiti and his people and his wife, Iyaugura, remained, he made a proclamation saying: “All my people, if one day you see a man walking downstream against the flow of the river, then you will tear out his spinal column. For it is forbidden, thus, to walk this way. You, all the various houses, all the people of Maka, the people of Birurumba, of Ankomo, Tubusa, and Mpongo. This other path here, the one that follows the flow of the river, this is the great path on which all people must pass.” Now in his village there lived his headman called Kasiyembe. After Mukiti had voiced this interdiction regarding the two paths, he told his big headman, Kasiyembe: “Henceforth you must dwell with my wife, Iyaugura, at the borders of the pool; and I, Mukiti, shall reside here where all the dry leaves collect, from now on, and always, here where all the fallen tree trunks are obstructed in the middle of the pool.”
Mwindo’s Unusual Birth and His Brief Early Years
Because of his power and virtues, Shemwindo, together with his wives and people, became very famous not only in Tubondo, but throughout the country. When many days had passed, his wives came into labor! They gave birth to female children only. One wife among them, the seventh and the Preferred One, lagged behind in her pregnancy. When the Preferred One saw that her companions had already given birth, whereas she was still heavy with child, she continually complained: “How terrible this is! It is only I who are still dragged down by this pregnancy. What then shall I do? My companions, with whom I became pregnant at the same time, have already gone through it all, and I alone remain with this burden. What will come out of this pregnancy?”
Just after she had finished these sad reflections, she found a bunch of firewood at her door. She did not know from where it had come. It was her child, the one that was inside her womb, who had just brought it.
After some time had passed, while looking around the house the Preferred One discovered a jar of water standing there. She did not know from whence it had come. It was as if it had brought itself into the house. And again, after some more time had passed, she found raw vegetables sitting in the house. Now, she was even more astonished. It was the child in her womb who was carrying out all these miraculous tasks for her.
When the inhabitants of the village saw that the Preferred One continued to drag on with her pregnancy, they started sneering at her: “When is this one going to give birth?” they would mock. The child, dwelling in the womb of its mother, meditated to itself, saying that it could not come out from the underpart of the body of its mother, because people might make fun saying that he was the child of a woman. He did not want to emerge from the mouth of his mother, for then they might make fun, saying that he had been vomited up like a bat.
The pregnancy had gone so far beyond its term that the old midwives, the wives of counselors, came. They arrived when the Preferred One was already being troubled with labor pains. The child, dwelling in the womb, climbed to her belly, wandered through her limbs and torso, and went on and came out through her middle. The old midwives were astonished when they saw him wailing on the ground. They pointed at him, asking: “What kind of child is that?” Some among them saw that it was a male child, and were worried and wanted to shout it about the village that a male child had been born. Others refused, saying that no one should say that the child was a boy, because when Shemwindo heard, he would kill him. T
he counselors sitting with Shemwindo, shouted, asking: “What sort of child is born there?” But the old mid-wives sitting in the house kept their silence, never giving an answer. Afterwards, the midwives gave him the name Mwindo—first-born male—for there had only been female children born in that family before him.
In the house where the birth took place that day, a cricket appeared on the wall carrying omens of great and dreadful things. After Shemwindo had asked what child was born and the midwives had refused to answer, the cricket had left the birthhouse and had carried the news to him: “Chief, a male child has been born to you. They call him Mwindo, the first boy child, and that is why those in the hut there have not answered you.” When Shemwindo heard that his Preferred One had given birth to a boy, he took up his spear. He sharpened it on a whetstone, and he carried it to the house where the child had been born. The moment he prepared to throw it into the birth hut, the child shouted from inside, saying: “Each time this spear is thrown, may it hit the bottom of the house pole, where the household spirits reside. May it never end up where these old midwives are seated here. Neither may it arrive at the place where my mother is.” Shemwindo threw the spear into the house six times, and each time it hit nothing but the pole. When the old midwives saw those extraordinary happenings they swarmed out of the house. They fled, saying to one another that they did not want to die in that place.
African Folktales Page 31
