‘How shall we learn them?’ asked the antelope.
‘One of us must go in disguise to learn them from him,’ answered the hare. ‘He is a man. He will not be able to resist a beautiful woman. So one of us must become a human woman and go to Sirankomi and learn the secrets of his power, and then bring him into the forest where we can kill him.’
‘I shall go,’ said the hyena. ‘I will stay in his compound and help with the cooking and the food, and I shall learn his secrets.’
‘No,’ said the hare.
‘I could go,’ offered the warthog.
‘I do not think you could become a beautiful woman,’ said the hare.
‘I will go,’ said the buffalo, and on reflection all the animals agreed that she possessed the necessary magic to become a beautiful woman.
So the next day, as Sirankomi returned from the hunt, he met a woman on the path to the village: a lovely woman, more beautiful than any he had ever seen. Her lips were darkened, her teeth shone, her hair was woven into braids. Over her shoulders she wore a blouse of silk with rich embroidery, and it slipped now from one shoulder, now from another, showing a smooth and lustrous skin. Tight around her hips she wore a manycoloured cloth that shone and caught the light as she moved.
‘Good evening, woman,’ said Sirankomi as he approached her from behind.
‘Ah, hunter,’ said the woman, as she turned and smiled. ‘You must be Sirankomi, the great hunter whose fame has spread across the villages of the Manden. I have come to find you, Sirankomi, because of your fame and your prowess.’
They walked together into the village, and what had begun so pleasantly continued well for Sirankomi. When they came to his house, the woman looked at him. ‘Ah, Sirankomi,’ she said, ‘won’t you be a good host? Won’t you invite me in to share your meal? Are you the sort of man who talks to women only on the path?’ And so Sirankomi invited her in and made her comfortable. He offered her water to wash and then tea, and they sat talking while the food was prepared by Sirankomi’s relatives. They ate together, and Sirankomi saw little of the meal, because he was lost in the eyes of the woman from the path. He did not see what she ate, whether it was much or little, or whether she pushed aside the meat-sauce to eat only the tο, the flavoured millet paste.
Night fell, and the other members of the household went to their rest, and Sirankomi and the woman stayed talking to each other until all was quiet.
‘Ah, Sirankomi,’ said the woman, ‘do you wish to keep me in the courtyard all night?’ So Sirankomi invited her into his private chamber, and they retired. There she leaned towards him and smiled, and he sat beside her and placed a hand upon her shoulder.
‘Ah, Sirankomi,’ said the woman, ‘is this how you would treat a woman? I have come all across the Manden to find you, and can I be sure you are truly Sirankomi the hunter, master of the secrets of the bush? Can you show me that you are Sirankomi? Tell me a hunter’s secret, so that I may be reassured in my quest.’
Sirankomi hesitated, for a hunter’s secrets may mean life or death to him, and he knew he was a master without equal. But then he looked at the woman and saw the flash of her eyes and her teeth as her mouth opened in a warm smile, and he hesitated no more.
‘What secret shall I tell you?’ he asked. ‘Shall I tell you of the lion’s movements, the hare’s hiding place, or how the hyena finds its food? Shall I tell you how the beasts of the bush meet under the full moon, and of their dances?’
‘No, Sirankomi,’ said the woman, ‘for those are little secrets which all can learn. Tell me something of the power that makes you Sirankomi, the great hunter of the Manden. Tell me how you can go into the bush and come back alive, where other men fall prey to the lion and the leopard and the buffalo.’
‘Ah,’ said Sirankomi, ‘that is indeed a question.’ And he paused. But the woman leaned forward again, so that he could see only her face and he felt her sweet breath upon his cheeks. ‘But I shall tell you, my guest, since you have asked this of me. Indeed, there are dangers in the bush, and the animals sometimes lie in wait for me, but every time so far, thanks to Sanen and Kontron, I have escaped them.’
‘And how do you do this, Sirankomi?’
‘I have mastered transformations,’ said Sirankomi. ‘When I see I am in danger, I change myself.’
‘Ah,’ said the woman, and she breathed deeply. ‘And into what do you change yourself, Sirankomi?’
‘Into different things,’ said Sirankomi. ‘An anthill or a termite mound, perhaps.’
‘An anthill,’ said the woman. ‘And then?’
‘A stump,’ said Sirankomi. ‘There are many in the bush.’
‘A stump,’ said the woman. ‘And then?’
‘A large tuft of elephant grass,’ said Sirankomi.
‘Ah, elephant grass,’ said the woman. ‘And then?’
But Sirankomi never answered that question, for his mother interrupted him. She told him later she was just going to get a cup of water and passed by his hut and heard them talking. She called out to him, ‘Ah, Sirankomi! Do not tell all your secrets to a one-night woman! Be careful, hunter!’ And her words reminded him of the value of caution. But the woman from the path asked him no more questions that night; the two stopped talking and passed the night together.
The next morning, the woman asked Sirankomi to accompany her some distance on the way and he agreed. He went to fetch his hunting gear, his weapons and his magic controls, but she scoffed at him and asked whether he really thought he would need all that to accompany a woman, so he left it in his chambers and accompanied her empty-handed.
They followed the path out of the town and past the fields, and then past the area where people gathered firewood and on into the really deserted areas where Sirankomi was accustomed to start his hunting. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked the woman, and she answered, ‘Just a little bit further, where my kinsmen live and they will take care of us.’ On they went, and still further, and they came to lands which Sirankomi knew – of course, a hunter knows all his territory – but not so well as others. ‘Your kin are not so close after all,’ commented Sirankomi, and the woman answered, ‘Ah! Is the great Sirankomi tired by a little walk?’ and so Sirankomi said no more.
Eventually they came to a great baobab tree at the edge of a clearing, and the woman turned to Sirankomi and said, ‘This is the place.’
Sirankomi looked around and saw nothing. ‘What sort of place is this?’ he asked, and then he was answered as all the animals came out from their hiding places to attack him. There he saw the lion and leopard with claws and fangs, and the elephant, its ears fanning and its trunk raised high, and buffalo with their mighty horns lowered in a charge, and every animal that he had ever hunted showing what weapons they had. He looked about him and ran around the baobab, and he had just time to change himself into a small anthill before the animals came rushing around.
‘Where has he gone?’ shouted all the animals, and the buffalo-woman who had brought Sirankomi into the bush called, ‘He has changed himself! He has become an anthill! Find it!’ The warthogs came to the fore, their broad snouts and tusks ready for the job, and they snuffled through the scrub until they found a small anthill not too far from the baobab. They set to work, and Sirankomi quickly changed himself.
‘There is nothing in the anthill,’ said the warthogs, and the buffalo-woman called, ‘Then look for a stump! He has changed himself into a stump!’
This time the elephants came up, their trunks snaking through the grass, and whenever they found a stump they set their tusks to work and uprooted it. Sirankomi had just time to change again and become a tuft of grass a bit further on.
‘There is nothing in the stumps,’ called the elephants, and the buffalo-woman cried, ‘Then he has become a large tuft of grass! Tear up the grasses!’ and all the animals went to work.
Sirankomi had time for his last change, and he became a small whirlwind and danced away from the animals. Meanwhile, they continued to tear at the gra
sses, calling to the buffalo-woman for help, but she could offer them no more advice. So Sirankomi blew himself home, and in this way escaped the trap of the animals.
There are many versions of this story. In some, Sirankomi, or the hunter, is successful because he is helped by two wonderfully skilful dogs. The woman who comes from the animals tricks him: sometimes he ties up the dogs when he accompanies her, sometimes he even kills the dogs to offer her a special meal. But when he does this, his sister or his mother collects the bones and the skin and sets them aside.
The next day, when the woman leads the hunter into the bush, the hunter is lost without his dogs, and he is forced to escape up a tree and there he waits and watches while the animals assemble to knock it down and capture him. He has time for one quick magical message which reaches his home, and his sister or his mother then releases the dogs, or treats the skin and bones with a remedy which brings them back to life, and the dogs rush into the bush to save their master. They succeed, and the hunter comes home somewhat wiser.
Some versions also say that the hunter then assembles his apprentices and leads them into the bush, and there they discover the city of animals. They wait in ambush, and in the morning, as the animals are going off to their various occupations, they begin a slaughter from which few animals escape, to avenge the betrayal of hunters’ secrets.
THE CATTLE-HERDERS
There is still disagreement among archaeologists and other specialists on when, how and why humans domesticated their animals. By the available evidence, the people living in what is now the Sahara desert domesticated a local breed of cattle some 7,000–10,000 years ago. Sheep and goats, now widespread across the continent, were introduced from the Middle East some time later, and camels even later, after the period of the Roman empire. The presumption is that humans accustomed to follow the herds of wild cattle in their seasonal migrations eventually domesticated them; the question is why, for hunters in general have a varied, healthy and adequate diet.
It is association with cattle, rather than other forms of livestock, that really defines the pastoral lifestyle in Africa, and one can distinguish two separate modes of cattle management. Across the Sahel, the savannah that forms the southern edge of the Sahara, there were many specialized groups who lived by herding, following their cattle on a seasonal course of migration through the grasses that appeared with the rains. From the Atlantic east to Lake Chad, this group is primarily composed of fractions of the Fulbe; in eastern Africa (Somalia, Sudan, Kenya) there is much greater ethnic and linguistic variation: near the Nile, the Dinka and Nuer pasture their cattle on floodplains; the Oromo peoples circulate through Somalia, and in Kenya the Maasai are among the best known of the pastoral groups.
From the great lakes down into South Africa, in those areas where the absence of the tsetse fly permits cattle-herding, a different pattern developed. There, cattle coexisted with agriculture, and constituted a form of wealth and social prestige. It was claimed, locally and later by Europeans, that cattle-herding peoples invaded and conquered local groups, and ownership of cattle remains a mark of aristocratic distinction. The claim was reinforced by physical differences between the populations: the cattle-herders, typically, were tall and thin, and the locals much shorter (for example, the Watutsi and the Hutu of Rwanda). Discussion of this question has been complicated by the ‘Hamitic’ hypothesis, the belief on the part of the first European administrators that the conquering groups were ‘Hamitic’ (that is, lighter-skinned northerners) who defeated the darker-skinned autochthons; the Hamitic thesis has long since been abandoned. Throughout this southern cattle-herding belt, cattle serve as a currency: brideprice, in particular, is calculated in terms of cattle, and cattle constitute the preferred form of tribute, sacrificial offerings and chieftainly wealth. This combination of practices is so consistent and widespread in this zone that anthropologists have coined the term ‘cattle complex’ for easy reference.
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KHOI-KHOI CATTLE STORIES
The Khoi-Khoi (see also Chapter 38) live in Namibia, Botswana and western South Africa. They are closely related to the San hunting groups (the language family is known as Khoi-San), but separated from them at some point, probably in the last five hundred years, when they acquired cattle and stopped being hunters. The first of these two stories was collected in the mid-nineteenth century; the second is much later. Heitsi-Eibib is the culture-hero of the Khoi-Khoi.
THE TWO MEN
Two men were living together in the bush. One was blind. The other practised hunting, wandering around the land in pursuit of the game. One day, he found a hole in the ground from which animals were emerging. He told his blind friend of this hole and led the man there; the blind man was able to touch the animals, and he turned to the hunter and told him that these animals were not ordinary game animals, such as antelopes and zebra and gemsbok, but cattle with their calves.
The blind man then found himself able to see, and he made a fence from poles and thorny branches. He herded the cattle into this enclosure, and in this way became their master. He took to anointing himself with fat and oils, as the Khoi-Khoi did until recent times, to make their skin glossy and sleek.
The hunter came and admired the cattle. He asked how the man had been able to capture them, and the man told him to use an ointment of fat and oil. But he told the hunter he must heat it up before applying it to his body. The hunter warmed the ointment, but when he began to spread it over his skin he found it too hot, and so he was unable to complete the process. He abandoned the idea of capturing cattle for himself. Since that time, the Khoi-Khoi have lived with their cattle while the others lived by hunting in the bush.
HEITSI-EIBIB AND THE KING OF SNAKES
In his travels, Heitsi-Eibib came into the land of the snakes. Their king possessed cattle, the only cattle that were known at that time. Heitsi-Eibib and the king of the snakes became friends, and after a time Heitsi-Eibib asked the king of the snakes for some cattle. The king agreed to give Heitsi-Eibib some cattle, if he would perform some services. Heitsi-Eibib agreed to this. He helped gather poles and branches to make a kraal for the cattle. He helped build the kraal, planting the poles and weaving the branches between them. He brought water for the cattle. He collected firewood.
In the evening, when the fire was lit, the king and Heitsi-Eibib sat near it together. The king had said nothing about the cattle he was to give to Heitsi-Eibib, and Heitsi-Eibib had realized that the king did not want to give him any cattle, and that he would think up all sorts of services and tasks for Heitsi-Eibib to put off the time when he would have to do so. So Heitsi-Eibib spoke to the king, and challenged him. Each of them should jump over the fire. So they began to dance around the fire, and after several rounds Heitsi-Eibib leaped through the flames and landed on the other side. The snake king coiled himself and then tried to launch himself over the fire, but he landed in the middle of the flames and quickly died. This is how Heitsi-Eibib got cattle for people.
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FULBE STORIES OF CATTLE
The Fulbe (singular: Pullo, also known as Fula, Fulani and Peul) have historically been cattle-herders in the savannah zones across west Africa, and between the Atlantic ocean and Lake Chad their nomadic groups are to be found everywhere cattle may survive. Many Fulbe have settled down across this belt, forming distinct sedentary communities in areas such as the Futa Tooro (Senegal–Mauritania; see below, Chapter 69), the Futa Jallon (highlands of Guinea), Wassulu (in Mali), Liptako (Burkina Faso) and throughout northern Nigeria and Cameroon. These settled communities are also almost all associated with Islam, and in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries many of them embarked on religious wars of conquest and conversion. In northern Nigeria, particularly, Fulbe religious militancy led to the conquest of the Hausa city-states by Fulbe dynasties and the establishment of the Caliphate of Sokoto. In modern times, the nomadic Fulbe have lost much of their former freedom of movement. They live in much closer association with the farmers whose fields are fertiliz
ed by the cattle grazing on the stubble. The herders often work for hire, tending other owners’ cattle. The stories represent something of this geographic range: the story of Tyamaba is found from Senegal to Niger; the Muslim account was collected in northern Nigeria, and the story of the first cow in Mali.
TYAMABA, THE GREAT SERPENT
A woman gave birth to twin offspring. One was a normal boy whom she named Ilo. The other was an egg, and she kept the egg in her chamber until it hatched out a snake. Some people say the snake had ninety-six wondrous scales, one for each of the recognized colour patterns of cattle. She raised the boy normally, but she kept the snake hidden, first under a little dish, and later under an overturned pot. She fed the snake various things: milk, and sometimes small animals such as chicks. The snake grew, the boy grew, and time passed. The mother became old and died, leaving the care of the snake to his brother.
The snake was now so big that the brother built him his own small hut, set apart from the others, and every day the brother brought him a bowl of milk. Some people say it was goat’s milk, others that it was milk from cows which appeared with the snake. The snake warned his brother that he should not marry a woman with very small breasts, for if such a woman were to see him he would have to leave.
But the brother fell in love with a woman who had very small breasts, and after a time he married her. He built a high wall around the snake’s hut, so that it would be difficult to see him. Things went well for a time, but then the wife began to wonder why her husband went every day to visit a small hut, carrying with him a pot of milk. She asked an old woman, and the old woman suggested she should wait until her husband was away; then she could stand on an overturned mortar and peek over the wall, to be sure it wasn’t another woman in there. So the wife waited for a few days, and then, when her husband was away, she took her mortar and turned it on end right next to the high earth wall, and climbed up on it and peeked over. She saw the snake sunning himself outside his hut. The snake saw her. He knew that the prohibition he had laid on his brother had been broken.
African Myths of Origin (Penguin Classics) Page 7
