She ran back rapidly to town to tell her husband, but she was so excited that she could scarcely speak. He asked her, “What’s the matter, Ivenga?”
She answered, “I have no words to tell you, for the plantation is left with no food.”
Then her husband called twenty men of the town, and he said to them, “Take four nets!”
They took the nets and also four dogs, with small bells tied to their necks. The men had also guns and spears and machetes in their hands. They rushed into the forest and found three of the beasts.
They came first upon the antelope and they shot him dead. Then the dogs trailed the genet and the men soon killed him. They came also upon the civet and killed him.
They took up the bodies of these beasts and said to each other, “Let us go back to town.”
On the way, they came to the big tree, and found the tortoise lying by it on the ground. They took him also, and then went on their way.
When Njambo arrived there he said to the man, “Put the tortoise in a house and suspend him from the roof.” He also said, “Take off the skin of the antelope and hang it in the house where the tortoise is.”
He added, “Take off also the skin of the civet.”
They did so, and they put it into that house. He told the man also to skin the genet and hang him up in that same house. So, there was left of these beasts in the street only the flesh of their bodies. These the men cut up and divided among themselves. And they feasted for several days.
Four days afterward Njambo said to his wife, “I’m going on a visit to a town about three miles away. While I am away, kill the tortoise and cook him with gourd seeds for me by my return.”
The woman got ready the gourd seeds, and then went into the room to take the tortoise. In the dim light, she lifted up her hand and found the string to which the tortoise was hanging.
But, before she untied it, the tortoise said, “Just wait a little.”
The woman took away her hand and stood waiting.
The tortoise asked her, “The skin there looks like what?”
The woman replied, “A skin of the antelope.”
And the tortoise inquired, “What did the antelope do?”
The woman answered, “The antelope ate my potatoes on the plantation, and my husband killed him for it.”
The tortoise said, “That is well.”
Then the tortoise again asked, “This other skin is of what animal?”
The woman replied, “Of the genet.”
The tortoise inquired, “What did the genet do?”
The woman answered, “The genet killed and ate our chickens, and he was killed for that.”
Then the tortoise said, “Very good reason!”
Again the tortoise asked the woman, “This other skin?”
She answered, “Of the civet.”
The tortoise asked, “What did the civet do?”
She answered, “The civet ate my sugar-cane, and my husband killed him.”
The tortoise said, “A proper reason! But, you, you are going to kill me and cook me with gourd seed. What have I done?”
The woman had no reason to give. So she left the tortoise alive, and began to cook the gourd seeds with fish.
When Njambo came back his wife set before him the gourd seed and fish. He objected, saying, “Ah! my wife! I told you to cook the tortoise and you have cooked me fish. Why did you do this?”
The woman told him, “My husband! first finish this food, and then you and I will go to see about the tortoise.”
So Njambo finished eating, and Ivenga removed the plates from the table. Then the two went into the room where the tortoise was hanging. The woman sat, but Njambo was standing ready to take down the tortoise.
Then the tortoise said to Njambo, “You, man! just wait!”
The woman also said to Njambo, “My husband! listen to what Kudu says to you.”
The tortoise asked, “You, man, what skin is this?”
Njambo answered, “Of the antelope. I killed him on account of his eating my plantation.”
Then the tortoise asked, “And that skin?”
Njambo answered, “Of the genet, and I killed him for eating my chickens.”
The tortoise again asked, “And this other?”
Njambo answered, “Of the civet, for eating my sugarcane.”
Then the tortoise said, “There were four of us on the plantation. What have I eaten? Tell me. If I have eaten of your food, then I should die.”
Njambo said to him, “I’ve found no reason against you.”
The tortoise therefore asked, “Then, why should I die?”
So Njambo untied the tortoise from the roof and said to Ivenga, “Let the tortoise go, for I find no reason against him. Let him go as he pleases.”
The Tortoise goes free.
So, Ivenga set the tortoise free. The tortoise was permitted to hasten back to his town in peace because he was not a thief. He did not eat anything on the plantation.
The Squirrel and the Spider
An industrious squirrel had labored hard to plant a crop on his farm. The farm was at last in fine condition. As the squirrel was a skillful climber of trees, he did not need to make a roadway to his farm. He used to reach it by the trees, jumping from one to the other.
One day, when the grain was very nearly ripe, it happened that the spider went out hunting nearby. While going along the spider arrived at the squirrel’s farm.
The Spider
The spider was very much pleased at the appearance of the fields, and he tried to find the road to it. As he could not find any, he came back home and told his family all about the farm.
The very next day they all started for this fine place, and began at once to make a road to it. When they had made the road the spider, a very cunning fellow, built his web across it and threw pieces of earthenware along the pathway to make believe that his children had dropped them while working on the farm.
Then he and his family began to cut down and carry away such of the grain as was ripe. The squirrel saw that his fields were being robbed, but could not at first find out who was doing it. He said to himself, “I will watch for the thief,” and he hid himself in a tall tree nearby.
The Squirrel
Sure enough the spider soon came again to take more of the grain. The squirrel asked the spider what right he had on his farm. The spider at once asked him the same question.
“They are my fields,” said the squirrel.
“Oh, no! They are mine,” replied the spider.
“I dug them and sowed them and planted them,” said the poor squirrel.
“Then where is your roadway to them?” asked the crafty spider.
“I need no roadway. I come by the trees,” replied the squirrel.
It is needless to say that the spider laughed at such an answer and continued to use the farm as his own.
The Spider’s web across the road
The squirrel went to law and asked the judge to say whose farm it was; but the judge decided that no one had ever had a farm without a road leading to it; therefore the land must be the spider’s. In much joy the spider and his family made ready to gather all the grain that remained. When it was cut they tied it in large bundles and started for the nearest market place to sell it. When they were about halfway there, a fearful storm came up. They had to put their burdens down by the roadside and run for shelter. When the storm was over they returned to pick up their grain.
The Crow covering the grain in the road
As they were approaching the spot they saw a large, black crow there, with his broad wings stretched over the bundles to keep them dry. The spider and his family went up to the crow and thanked him for so kindly taking care of his property, and tried to take up the bundles.
“Your property!” replied the crow. “Who ever heard of any one leaving bundles of grain by the roadside? Nonsense! This property is mine.”
So saying this, he picked up the bundles and went off with them, and l
eft the spider and his children to return home sad and empty-handed. Their thieving had done them no good. Some one had taken from them what they had taken from another.
Character
Wherever a man goes to dwell his character goes with him.
Every man’s character is good in his own eyes.
Covetousness is the father of unsatisfied desires.
Disobedience is the father of insolence.
You condemn on hearsay evidence alone, your sins increase.
A man’s disposition is like a mark in a stone, no one can efface it.
Gossip is unbecoming.
Charity is the father of sacrifice.
Borrowing is easy but the day of payment is hard.
He who waits for a chance may wait for a year.
You cannot kill game by looking at it.
The Toad and the Kite
The toad had lent some beads to the kite. The latter did not want to pay them back, so he kept on traveling and traveling; he was no longer seen in the village.
When the toad came to ask for the beads back again, the kite would jest; he would not even be there; he used to say:
“Tomorrow, tomorrow.”
When the toad was weary to death he began to plan schemes to have a talk with the kite.
At the approach to the toad’s village on this side of the river was a deserted field. It was a dry season, the grass was faded, and the toad set the field alight. When the fire was burnt out, he placed himself on a clod of earth and exposed his white stomach to the sky.
When the kite saw the smoke of the fire, he soared in the air to see whether there might not be mice lying in the fields on their backs, suffocated and dead. While he was gazing downwards, he spied something shining on a clod of earth and began to beat his wings and to say to himself, “There is a mouse.”
The Toad in the home of the Kite
The kite swooped down and seized upon the white object; he put it in his bag and carried it through the sky; but he did not see that it was a toad.
That evening, when he returned to his village, the kite went indoors with his mice and began to count the number in his bag. When the mice escaped, they ran, but the toad jumped out and said:
“Hulloa, Kite! Here I am. Give me my beads!”
The Toad hopping out of the Kite’s bag
The kite stood amazed; he was ashamed. He proceeded to take his beads out from his secret chamber and counted them out to the toad.
“My friend, take your beads; it is right.... But how will you return to your village? I have not carried you for nothing.”
The toad said, “I have taken my beads; if I had not laid a trap for you, I should not have known how to get back my loan! I know the paths which lead back to my home.”
The kite did not understand the toad’s cleverness. At night when he went to lie down, he hung up his bag on the door of his house very close to the ground. When the toad saw the bag, he jumped inside and remained there all night.
The kite took his bag early and went for a walk; but it became very hot, stiflingly hot. So he went to look for a river, placed his bag on the bank, and descended to the water to bathe.
The toad them jumped out, crying, “Aha, my friend! I have traveled for nothing after all!”
If the toad’s limbs are feeble, his wits are not wanting.
The Antelope and the Jackal
The little antelope had been living high. He had been buying everything that was good and costly, food, drink, and the most expensive clothing. Then, as the moon rose, he would invite his friends. The drums were beating and the animals were dancing and singing till the breaking of the day drove them home; and the little antelope paid for everything.
One day after a night’s feasting the little antelope awoke. He went to his money bag; but, turning it inside out and outside in, he could not find in it a single cowry to buy himself food for breakfast. He had had plenty, and now he had nothing.
“What does it matter,” said the little antelope, “my friends are expecting me to continue our feasting; I will ask them to lend me some money and we shall keep on having a good time.”
He found his friends at the accustomed place, but when he informed them that he wanted to borrow money they left him abruptly. Those able to run ran, those able to fly, flew. The tortoise, not able to run or to fly, drew back into its shell and shut it with a snap that sounded like a clap of thunder.
“Dear, dear,” said the little antelope; “what am I to do now? My friends having treated me so shabbily. I will go to my old enemy the jackal and see what he will do for me.”
Off the little antelope went and found the jackal in front of his house counting a large bag of cowries. “Hundred, hundred and one, hundred and two . . .”
The Antelope tells His troubles to the Jackal.
The little antelope’s mouth watered at the thought of the large quantity of food this money would buy.
“Good morning, Uncle Jackal,” he said humbly. “I hope you are well, and that your wife is also well, and your children too!”
“Hum,” said the jackal, “hundred and ten, hundred and eleven . . .”
“Come another day . . . hundred and twenty . . . I am busy today . . . hundred and twenty-one . . .”
“May I come tomorrow?”
“I am going to a wedding tomorrow . . . hundred and thirty . . . I have to clear a field the day after . . . hundred and thirty-one . . . the next I have to attend a funeral . . . hundred and thirty-two . . . the next day . . .”
“The next day you will have something else to do, I have no doubt. So we might just as well do the business now. I want to ask you a little favor . . .”
“Ask away . . . hundred and forty . . . but I am afraid . . . hundred and forty one . . . that I won’t be able to oblige you . . . hundred and forty-two.”
“How do you know? I have not yet told you what I want.”
The jackal sneered; he had heard of the trouble his old foe was in. “I just have an idea . . . hundred and fifty . . .”
“I want you to lend me a few cowries . . .”
The jackal stopped counting. “Lend you money? If you want money, why don’t you go to work instead of always seeking your pleasure, you good-for-nothing scamp? Then you will get all the money you want.”
“I am itching to work,” said the little antelope; “work is real passion with me.”
“Well, then, why don’t you?”
“Did you not tell me the other day that I must never give way to my passions?”
The jackal remembered having said something like that, but somehow it did not seem to fit in just now. He wondered why. So he grumbled:
“Work ought to be a pleasure to honest people.”
“Yes, yes,” said the little antelope, “quite so. You have just told me that only good-for-nothing scamps always seek their pleasure.”
The jackal, stupid as he was, saw now that the little antelope was making fun of him. The little antelope always did it. If only he could get his own back and play some trick on him. . . . Suddenly he thought of a hollow tree he had noticed the other day, and a cruel idea occurred to him.
“I will lend you no money,” said he, “because, first of all, I have none; secondly, the little I own I want myself; and thirdly, what I can spare is better in my money bag than in yours. But I will help you in another way. I know of a treasure . . .”
“If you know of a treasure, why don’t you get it yourself?” asked the little antelope, who was on his guard.
“Because it is in a hollow tree, and, hard as I tried, I could not squeeze through the opening. You are small and slender and I will push you; you might get in.”
This gave the little antelope confidence; but still he was afraid that if he did succeed in getting the treasure the jackal would take it from him as soon as he had brought it out. So he thought it might be wise to offer him beforehand a big share of it that he might be honest about the rest.
“I am willing,” said he
, “but as it is you who found the treasure, you must take nine-tenths of it for your share.”
“No, no; keep it all,” said the jackal, who could be generous—when there was nothing to lose. He well knew that there was no treasure in the hollow tree.
Then there began the strangest haggling the world has ever seen. Each one wanted to give more and to take less money as if they were in a combat. At last the little antelope, who was burning with the desire to handle the treasure, said:
“Let us agree to this: each will have an equal share, and then we shall add a little to it so that I shall have more than you and you will have more than I.”
This seemed to be a fair bargain to the jackal, and he suggested that they start at once to find the treasure. Soon they came to the hollow tree. The hole was small; but the little antelope, having an empty stomach, and the jackal pushing with all his might from behind, at last got in. The antelope’s tail had not yet quite disappeared, when the jackal gave a shout of joy and rolled a huge stone in front of the opening.
“Have you found anything, antelope?” asked the jackal maliciously.
“Not yet.”
“I have. I have found a good dinner. Now I am going to make a big roaring fire round this tree, and when you are roasted nice and brown, you must come and have dinner with me.”
African Myths and Folk Tales Page 8
