‘And I,’ said the second, ‘ever since I was young, I have sat and scuttled backwards and forwards over my loom, and that’s how my back has got so broad and humped as you now see it.’
‘And I,’ said the third, ‘ever since I was little, I have sat, and stared and sewn, and sewn and stared, night and day; and that’s why my eyes have got so ugly and red, and now there’s no help for them.’
‘So, so!’ said the prince, ‘ ’twas lucky I came to know this; for if folk can get so ugly and loathsome by all this, then my bride shall neither spin, nor weave, nor sew all her life long.’
TALE OF AN OLD WOMAN
(AFRICA: BONDES)
here was once an old woman who had no husband and no relations, no money and no food. One day she took her axe and went to the forest to cut a little firewood to sell, so that she could buy something to eat. She went very far, right into the heart of the bush, and she came to a large tree covered with flowers, and the tree was called Musiwa. The woman took her axe and began to fell the tree.
The tree said to her, ‘Why are you cutting me? What have I done to you?’
The woman said to the tree, ‘I am cutting you down to make some firewood to sell, so that I can get some money, so that I can buy food to keep from starving, for I am very poor and have no husband or relations.’
The tree said to her, ‘Let me give you some children to be your own children to help you in your work, but you must not beat them, nor are you to scold them. If you scold them you will see the consequences.’
The woman said, ‘All right, I won’t scold them.’ Then the flowers of that tree turned into many boys and girls. The woman took them and brought them home.
Each child had its own work – some tilled, others hunted elephants, and still others fished. There were girls who had the work of cutting firewood, and girls who had the work of collecting vegetables, and girls who pounded flour and cooked it. The old woman didn’t have to work any more, for now she was blessed.
Among the girls, there was one smaller than all the rest. The others said to the woman, ‘This little girl must not work. When she is hungry and cries for food, give it to her and don’t be angry at her for all of this.’
The woman said to them, ‘All right, my children, whatever you tell me I will do.’
In this way, they lived together for some time. The woman didn’t have to work except to feed the littlest child when it wanted to eat. One day the child said to the woman, ‘I am very hungry. Give me some food to eat.’
The woman scolded the child, saying, ‘How you pester me, you children of the bush! Get it out of the pot yourself.’
The child cried and cried because it had been scolded by the woman. Some of her brothers and sisters came, and asked her what was the matter. She told them, ‘When I said I was hungry and asked for food, our mother said to me, “How I am worried by these bush children.”’
Then the boys and girls waited until those who had gone hunting returned, and they told them how the matter stood. So they said to the woman, ‘So you said we are children of the bush. We’ll just go back to our mother, Musiwa, and you can dwell alone.’ The woman pleaded with them every way, but they wouldn’t stay. They all returned to the tree and became flowers again, as it was before, and all the people laughed at her. She dwelt in poverty till she died, because she did not heed the instruction given to her by the tree.
THE HEIGHT OF PURPLE PASSION
(USA)
here was this sailor walking down the street and he met a Lady Wearing Lipstick. And she said to him, ‘Do you know what the Height of Purple Passion is?’ And he said, ‘No.’ And she said, ‘Do you want to find out?’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ So she told him to come to her house at five o’clock exactly. So he did, and when he rang the doorbell, birds flew out all around the house. And they went around the house three times and the door opened and they all flew in again. And there was the Lady Wearing Lipstick. And she said, ‘Do you still want to know what the Height of Purple Passion is?’ And he said he wanted to find out. So she told him to go and take a bath and be very clean. So he did, and he came running back and slipped on the soap and broke his neck. That’s the end. He never found out what it was. My girl friend Alice told me this story. It happened to somebody she knows.
SALT, SAUCE AND SPICE, ONION LEAVES, PEPPER AND DRIPPINGS
(AFRICA: HAUSA)
his story is about Salt, and Sauce and Spice, and Onion Leaves, and Pepper and Drippings. A story, a story! Let it go, let it come. Salt and Sauce and Spice and Onion Leaves and Pepper and Drippings heard a report of a certain youth who was very handsome, but the son of the evil spirit. They all rose up, turned into beautiful maidens, and then they set off.
As they were going along, Drippings lagged behind the others, who drove her still further off, telling her she stank. But she crouched down and hid until they had gone on, and then she kept following them. When they had reached a certain stream, where they came across an old woman who was bathing, Drippings thought they would rub down her back for her if she asked, but one said, ‘May Allah save me that I should lift my hand to touch an old woman’s back.’ The old woman did not say anything more, and the five passed on.
Soon Drippings came along, encountered the old woman washing, and greeted her. She answered, and said, ‘Maiden, where are you going?’ Drippings replied, ‘I am going to find a certain youth.’ And the old woman asked her, too, to rub her back, but unlike the others, Drippings agreed. After she had rubbed her back well for her, the old woman said, ‘May Allah bless you.’ And she said, too, ‘This young man to whom you are all going, do you know his name?’ Drippings said, ‘No, we do not know his name.’ Then the old woman told her, ‘He is my son, his name is Daskandarini, but you must not tell the others,’ then she fell silent.
Drippings continued to follow far behind the others till they got to the place where the young man dwelled. They were about to go in when he called out to them, ‘Go back, and enter one at a time,’ which they did.
Salt came forward first and was about to enter, when the voice asked, ‘Who is there?’ ‘It is I,’ she replied, ‘I, Salt, who make the soup tasty.’ He said, ‘What is my name?’ She said, ‘I do not know your name, little boy, I do not know your name.’ Then he told her, ‘Go back, young lady, go back,’ and she did.
Next Sauce came forward. When she was about to enter, she, too, was asked, ‘Who are you?’ She answered, ‘My name is Sauce and I make the soup sweet.’ And he said, ‘What is my name?’ But she did not know, either, and so he said, ‘Turn back, little girl, turn back.’
Then Spice rose up and came forward, and she was about to enter when she was asked, ‘Who is this, young lady, who is this?’ She said, ‘It is I who greet you, young man, it is I who greet you.’ ‘What is your name, young girl, what is your name?’ ‘My name is Spice, who makes the soup savoury.’ ‘I have heard your name, young woman, I have heard your name. Speak mine.’ She said, ‘I do not know your name little boy, I do not know your name.’ ‘Turn back, young lady, turn back.’ So she turned back, and sat down.
Then Onion Leaves came and stuck her head into the room. ‘Who is this, young girl, who is this?’ asked the voice. ‘It is I who salute you young man, it is I who salute you.’ ‘What is your name, little girl, what is your name?’ ‘My name is Onion Leaves, who makes the soup smell nicely.’ He said, ‘I heard your name, little girl. What is my name?’ But she didn’t know it and so she also had to turn back.
Now Pepper came along. She said, ‘Your pardon, young man, your pardon.’ She was asked who was there. She said, ‘It is I, Pepper, young man, it is I, Pepper, who make the soup hot.’ ‘I have heard your name, young lady. Tell me my name.’ ‘I do not know your name, young man, I do not know your name.’ He said, ‘Turn back, young maid, turn back.’
Now only Drippings was left. When the others asked her if she was going in she said, ‘Can I enter the house where such good people as you have gone and been driven away? Would
not they sooner drive out one who stinks?’ They said, ‘Rise up and go in,’ for they wanted Drippings, too, to fail.
So she got up and went in there. When the voice asked her who she was, she said, ‘My name is Drippings, little boy, my name is Batso which makes the soup smell.’ He said, ‘I have heard your name. There remains my name to be told.’ She said, ‘Daskandarini, young man, Daskandarini.’ And he said, ‘Enter.’ A rug was spread for her, clothes were given to her, and slippers of gold. And then of Salt, Sauce, Spice, Onion Leaves and Pepper, who before had despised her, one said, ‘I will always sweep for you’, another, ‘I will pound for you’, another, ‘I will draw water for you’, another, ‘I will pound the ingredients of the soup for you’, and another, ‘I will stir the food for you.’ They all became her handmaidens. And the moral of all this is that it is from such common things that our most blessed foods are made. So just as such common stuff may be transformed under the right circumstance, if you see a man is poor, do not despise him. You do not know but that some day he may be better than you. That is all.
TWO SISTERS AND THE BOA
(CHINESE)
nce there was an old, Kucong binbai, or old woman, who had buried her husband in her youth. Her sole possession was two daughters, the elder, nineteen years old, and the younger, seventeen. One afternoon, she returned home from working in the mountains, feeling thirsty and tired. So she sat down under a mango tree to rest. This mango tree was laden with ripe, golden-yellow fruit hanging down from the branches. A breeze blew from the mountains, carrying the exquisite fragrance of ripe mangoes to her nose, making her mouth water.
Suddenly, the binbai heard a swishing sound, ‘sha-sha’, up in the mango tree, and then thin pieces of bark fell on her. The old woman thought that somebody must be up there, so without even taking a look, she called out, jokingly, ‘Who’s the young man up in the tree whittling arrows out of mango branches? Whoever you are, if you would honour me by presenting me with a few mangoes, you can have your choice of my two daughters.’
Hardly had the binbai’s words escaped her lips, when there came the rustling of leaves, ‘hua-hua’, and a fully ripe mango fell plop, right on the ground. Feeling delighted and thankful at once, the old woman picked up the mango and began eating it, all the while looking up in the tree. Better for her she had not looked, for she was all agog with what she saw. Coiled all around the mango tree was a boa as thick as a bull’s thigh, knocking mangoes free, its tail swishing back and forth. The binbai could not care less about picking up any more mangoes, and she scurried down the mountain in leaps and bounds, her bamboo basket on her back.
Wheezing and gasping for breath, the old woman entered her door. As she saw her two darling daughters coming up to meet her she called to mind what had happened under the mango tree. She couldn’t help feeling nervous and confused, as if she were stuck in a briar patch. She walked outside and was met by a strange sight. Though it was already dark, all her chickens were still circling around outside the chicken coop. She tried repeatedly to drive them inside, but they would not go. She went up to the coop and peeped in. Gosh! The very same boa which had been coiled around the mango was right there, lying in the chicken coop! As she was about to run away, the huge, long boa began to speak.
‘Binbai, just now, you made a promise under the mango tree: whoever picked a mango and gave it to you to eat, could have his choice of one of your two daughters. Now please, keep your promise. Give me one of your girls! If you should go back on your word, don’t blame me for getting impolite!’
Seeing that boa in the chicken coop, with its brightly patterned, scaly skin, gleaming eyes, and that long, forked tongue sticking out, the binbai shivered from head to foot. She couldn’t say yes, but she couldn’t say no, either. So all she said was, ‘Now don’t get mad, boa! be patient, please, Let me talk this over with my girls, so I can tell you what they think.’
The binbai went back into the house and recounted all that had happened to her two daughters. ‘Oh, my little darlings!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s not that Mama doesn’t love you or dote on you, but I have no choice other than to push you in the burning fire. Now you two sisters have to think it over – who is willing to marry the boa?’
No sooner had the old woman finished speaking than the older daughter started screaming, ‘No, no! I won’t go! Who could marry such an ugly, dreadful thing?’
The younger sister thought for a while. She saw that her mother’s life was threatened, while her older sister was adamant.
‘Mama,’ she said, ‘to prevent the boa from doing you and sister any harm, and so you two can live in peace, I’m willing to marry the boa.’ And with that, she cried many a sad, sad tear.
The binbai led her second child to the gate of the chicken coop and told the boa he could have her. That very night, the old woman took the snake into her home, and the boa and Second Daughter were married.
The next morning, when the boa was about to take her second daughter away, mother and child wept in one another’s arms. How hard it was to part! Off went the boa, leading the binbai’s dear child to the virgin forest, deep in the mountains, where he brought her to a cave. She groped about in the dark, dark cave, following after the boa. On and on they went, never coming to the end. So worried and afraid was Second Daughter, that her teardrops fell like strings of pearls. Rounding a bend in the cave there was a gleam of light, and suddenly, a resplendent, magnificent palace came in view. There were endless, vermilion walls and yellow tiles without number, long verandas and tiny pavilions, tall buildings and spacious courtyards. Everywhere one could see carved beams, painted rafters, piles of gold, carved jade and wall hangings of red and green silk. Second Daughter was simply dazzled. As she turned around, that terrifying, dreadful boa which had been close by had disappeared. Walking beside her now was a gorgeously dressed young man, looking ever so vigorous and handsome.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, completely outdone. ‘How could this be?’
The young man beside her replied, ‘Dear Miss! I am the king of the snakes of this region. Not long ago, when I went out to make an inspection tour of the snake tribes, I saw you two sisters. How I admired your wisdom and beauty! I made up my mind right then to have one of you as my wife, and that’s how I thought of a way to win your mother’s approval. Now, my hopes have come true, Oh, dear Miss! In my palace you’ll have gold and silver without end, more cloth than you can ever use, and more rice than you can ever eat. Let us love each other dearly, enjoying a glorious life, to the end of our days!’
As she listened to the snake king’s words, Second Sister’s heart flooded with warmth. She took hold of his hand, and smiling sweetly, walked towards the resplendent, magnificent palace.
Second Sister and the snake king lived happily as newly-weds for a time. Then, one day, she took leave of her husband to go back home and visit her mother and sister. She told them all about her rich, full married life with the king of the snakes.
How could the elder daughter not be full of regret? ‘Ay!’ she thought. ‘I’m to blame for being so foolish. If I had promised to marry the boa in the first place, would not I have been the one now enjoying glory, honour and riches in that palace, instead of my younger sister?’ So she made up her mind, then and there. ‘Right! That’s what I’ll do. I’ll find a way to wed a boa too!’
After the younger sister left to return to the snake king, the elder sister walked deep into the mountains, carrying a basket on her back. To find a boa, she would only go where the grass was tall or the jungles were dense. From dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn, she kept on searching until, at last, after great difficulty, she found a boa under a bush. Its eyes were shut, for the boa was enjoying a good snooze.
First Sister gingerly raked the snake into her basket and left for home in high spirits, the boa on her back. She had only gone halfway when the boa woke up. It stuck out its tongue and licked the back of her neck. Instead of being frightened by what the snake was doing, First Sister secretly felt quite
delighted. ‘Hey!’ she whispered softly. ‘Don’t be so affectionate just yet! Wait till we get home!’
After getting back home, she laid the boa in her bed, then rushed to make the fire and do the cooking. After supper, First Sister told her mother, ‘Mama, I found a boa today too, and I shall marry him tonight. From now on, I can live a rich, comfortable life, just like my baby sister!’ And off she went to sleep with her boa.
Not long after the mother went to bed, she heard her daughter’s voice, ‘Mama, it’s up to my thighs!’
The binbai did not say a word, thinking all she was hearing was a pair of newly-weds having fun playing around.
After a while, First Sister called out, her voice trembling, ‘Mama, it’s up to my waist!’
The old woman did not understand what such words could mean, so she did not budge an inch.
Yet more time passed, until this time she heard a mournful voice from the inner room, ‘Mama, it’s up to my neck now . . .’ And then, all was silence.
The binbai felt something was not quite right, so she quickly rolled out of bed, lit a pine torch and went to take a look. That dreadful boa had swallowed down her elder daughter, leaving but a lock of her hair!
The old woman felt sad and nervous. She paced back and forth in the room, not knowing what to do to rescue her daughter. In the end, all she could think of doing was to pull down her dear, thatched hut, set it afire, and burn up the boa. In the raging flames a loud ‘bang’ was heard. As the boa was being burned to death, it burst into many pieces. In a later age, these came to be countless snakes, big and little.
Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales Page 40
