African Folk Tales

by Yoti Lane

  At first the wrestler seemed to throw the boy’s father about like a sack of meal, but gradually the father, fighting with the courage of desperation, began to hold his own. Slowly and grimly the struggle went on. Both men were beginning to look distressed. Finally the wrestler seemed to gather himself together to make one supreme effort to finish the contest, but it failed, and while the watching crowd held its breath in amazement, the father got the wrestler off the ground, threw him with all his strength, and the creature fell, and remained still.

  The chief stared in amazement.

  “Well,” he gasped. “That is the first time my wrestler has ever been beaten. How did you do it? Do you know some new tricks we haven’t heard about?”

  The father shook his head.

  “No, Highness, it’s just that I love my son.”

  The chief nodded his head.

  “Then take him. But remember he must never break the rules again. And you, boy, remember that. Because if ever I catch you in further disobedience I’ll take you to my country, and we’ll teach you obedience there.”

  “Highness, I shall never again disobey,” quavered the boy.

  “Remember well,” said the chief, and raised his stick.

  There was a sound of great wings rushing through the air, and then the boy found himself alone with his parents. He rubbed his eyes in amazement. All the strange people had vanished in a second, including the wrestler.

  “Where are they?” he gasped.

  “Who?” the father asked.

  “All the strange people!”

  “You have been asleep,” said the father.

  “But I haven’t,” gasped the boy. “I was wide awake. I was tied up in ropes.”

  “Where are they?”

  The boy looked down. He was sitting on the ground but there were no ropes.

  “There were strange people here, they threatened me. I’ll go and find them. I tell you they were here.”

  “You will come into the house,” his father said.

  “But,” the boy protested, and then he stopped. He remembered what the strange chief had said about disobedience. “Very well, I’ll come into the house,” he finished weakly.

  “That’s right,” his mother told him. “Do as your father says.”

  “I had a dream—a very queer dream,” the boy said questioningly. His father looked at him but didn’t answer. They never spoke of the matter again. The boy was afraid to ask questions, and his father and mother behaved as if nothing had happened.

  As the days passed the boy decided that it had all been a dream, but nevertheless he took no chances, and from that time onwards he was obedient, even if he didn’t always understand the reasons for everything his father asked of him.

  HOW ENEMIES ARE MADE

  ONE OF THE most terrible things that can happen in the bush is a fire, because there is no way of putting it out. Everything is destroyed and animals who cannot flee swiftly and escape, are overcome by smoke and burnt or suffocated.

  One day a very severe fire swept over the bush, and all the animals fled towards the river bank. Most of them could swim, and they reached the other side in safety. Those who could not swim, such as the monkeys, clung on to the larger animals, and were carried across. Like the monkeys, the hare was unable to swim, but unlike the monkeys, who were at least tolerated by everyone, nobody wanted to carry the hare across because he was a very cunning fellow, and had got the better of several simple people.

  So now he ran wildly up and down the bank of the river, imploring various animals to take him across. First he asked the lion, who roared, “Out of my way!” and dashed past him into the water. Then he tried an elephant, but the elephant had a load of monkeys clinging to him, and he shook his trunk and walked on. Next the hare approached a leopard, but the leopard snarled, and jumped into the stream. Lastly the hare approached a wild dog, but the dog had once been tricked by the hare so he now ignored him.

  Finally the hare saw that a small boat was anchored near the river bank. His only hope of being saved was that someone fleeing from the fire would escape by boat, so he crept under a bundle of mats that were lying at the bottom of the boat, and lay still while the fire crept nearer, and nearer, and the hare could hear the crackling of the flames. Just as he had given himself up for lost he heard running footsteps, and a man and his wife dashed out from among the trees and made for the boat. They leapt in, and a moment later were paddling wildly for the opposite shore. The hare breathed a huge sigh of relief, and as soon as the boat reached the bank he leapt out and ran off.

  However, he was not a fellow to forget an injury, and he had sworn to have revenge on the people who would not carry him across the river. So he set out to find the lion. He found him at last, settled down in a cave, but not enjoying himself very much in his new home.

  “I am indeed glad to see that you escaped safely from the fire!” the hare told him. “Thanks,” growled the lion, feeling a little embarrassed that the hare should refer to the matter.

  “I got away very comfortably,” the hare went on. “A kind man rowed me over. Of course, it’s hard to settle down in a new place, but what can one do. Even if the fire hadn’t burnt one’s old home, thieves would have taken everything.”

  “I’d like to see a thief take anything of mine,’’ roared the lion.

  “Oh, but one did, didn’t you know?” said the hare with an air of surprise.

  “What do you mean?” growled the lion.

  “Why I passed your old cave after you had left on the day of the fire, I saw the elephant absolutely wrecking the place,” said the hare.

  The lion shook the ground under them with his roaring.

  “Well, I’m sorry to have upset you like this, I’m sure,” remarked the hare. “I shouldn’t think any more about it if I were you. There is nothing you can do anyhow!”

  “Ho, isn’t there,” said the lion savagely, and sat down to brood, while the hare well pleased with himself, went off.

  Next he sought the elephant, whom he found under a huge, shady tree. “Oh, so you haven’t moved!” commented the hare.

  “What do you mean, moved?” asked the elephant. “I’ve only been here a few days since the fire.”

  “I know,” the hare replied, “but I heard the leopard say that it was unfair that you should have this tree to sleep under as it’s exactly what he needs, but that if he tries to sleep over your head your snores would keep him awake. I understood he was going to demand that you leave.”

  “Indeed,” trumpeted the elephant, “what impertinence. I certainly shall not leave!”

  Then the hare sought out the leopard.

  “I’m afraid you are having a pretty thin time here,” he remarked.

  “Well, the hunting isn’t too good,” agreed the leopard, “but I expect it’s because the place is new to me. When I get to know it better I’ll be all right.”

  “I’m afraid not,” the hare said with apparent sympathy. “You see the wild dog is determined to starve you out, and have the place to himself, and he’s scaring off all the animals he doesn’t catch for himself. I saw him chasing a herd of deer only this morning.”

  At this the hungry leopard became furious.

  “I’ll teach him,” he snarled. “Just you wait and see what I’ll do to him!”

  Later in the day there were terrible fights. The lion sought out the elephant, and attacked him, and the elephant practically strangled the lion, and then went in search of the leopard and almost strangled him too. The leopard only escaped by running away, but happening to encounter the wild dog he flew at him and almost killed him.

  From that day to this, and all because of the hare’s mischief making, none of these animals are friendly. Elephants always know when there is a lion in the vicinity, and become very uneasy. Leopards will attack elephants, or for that matter almost any other beast. The wild dog seems to fear attack from almost any animal bigger than himself, and trusts nobody. The hare, who is the only one who knows t
he truth of the matter, still pretends to be everybody’s friend.

  THE TORTOISE AND HIS MOTHER

  Monkeys are clever people, and when they are greedy as well, they may cause a great deal of trouble. Chita was greedy, and when he had nothing else to do, he used to sit around and plot and plan about all sorts of things, but mainly he concerned himself with schemes to get hold of more food. One day Chita conceived a brilliant idea. There was just so much food in the forest, usually enough for everyone, sometimes insufficient just before the rains came, but Chita would have liked a lot more. “If a whole lot of people could be persuaded to go away, or even if they could be forced to go away, all the food would be left for the others,” Chita whispered to himself.

  The problem was, who would go away? At first Chita thought he would start a campaign against some species of animals, the zebra, or the pigs, and try and induce all the other animals to drive them away. But if that happened, the result might be that some one species of animals would have a very great deal of power after a time, and it wasn’t likely to be the monkeys. The monkeys were speedy and cunning, but they weren’t strong, and they couldn’t endure great hardships either.

  No, Chita decided, the balance of power must not be upset. It wouldn’t do to get rid of all of one species. Then he wondered if he could use the people’s snobbish instincts. Could he put forward the idea that only the families who had lived in that particular bit of forest for a very long time might remain? A settlement of the oldest and “best” families. But when he examined that notion, it proved to be too complicated. For one thing the bats were certainly among the oldest families in the vicinity but they weren’t friendly, they kept themselves to themselves. Then there was the tortoise, his family were long lived, and would perhaps be the oldest of all, but he was a cunning fellow. So were all his relatives. A settlement run by the tortoise clan might be a pretty poor place for everyone else.

  Still Chita felt there was something in the idea if only he could work it out. Feeling hungry after so much concentration he went off and found a bunch of bananas for himself, and as he ate he again pondered.

  It wouldn’t do to get rid of one species, and it wouldn’t do to get rid of all but the oldest families. Then what about colour? Suppose all the dark skinned people were made to go, and the light coloured ones remain in control? But that was no use because monkeys were of every shade from white to black. Regretfully Chita abandoned that plan. What else divided people? Ah, he had it at last! Age! The eternal struggle between age and youth. He would start a campaign for the exile of all the old people. He himself was on the sunny side of young manhood, and like most monkeys Chita never gave a thought to the future. The scheme seemed perfect, and the sooner he put it into operation the better.

  Finishing the last banana Chita set forth to spread subtle propaganda.

  Within a week there was a burning new problem in the bush, and almost only one topic of conversation. The tyranny of age over youth. Youth was not getting a square deal. The old people had done what they liked in the past, but they continued to hold power in the present, and what was the future going to be if things went on like this?

  “Look at this question of the best quality food, who gets it?” Chita enquired of a fat young bush pig.

  “Well, I don’t do so badly,” the pig said thoughtfully.

  “But you don’t do as well as your grandfather,” declared Chita.

  “How can I?” asked the pig. “After all he’s been nosing round here for years longer than I have. He knows all the best places to go.”

  “Isn’t that just what I’m saying,” put in Chita eagerly. “If he didn’t get hold of the best things first you’d soon find them. It’s the advantage of age over youth, that’s what it is.”

  “But,” said the pig, and then fell silent. As an argument there was a flaw in it somewhere, but at the same time it was true that if grandfather didn’t get there first the young pig would eventually find the place where the best food was to be got. “Maybe you’re right,” he told Chita.

  “Of course I’m right,” snapped Chita, and went on to spread his idea elsewhere.

  He didn’t find it too easy because no one was much interested in ideas anyhow, but with persistence he began to win the day. Naturally nobody was quite satisfied with their lot, and it was satisfactory to pin their troubles on somebody. If the old people could be blamed it didn’t seem so depressing as having to blame oneself.

  The whole plot was working up nicely by the time Chita encountered the tortoise.

  “What I don’t understand is how you work out who is old and who isn’t,” the tortoise commented. “For instance I’m at least twenty times your age, but I’m young as tortoises go. On the other hand the humming bird is only a few months old, but he’ll be a grandfather in a year’s time.”

  Chita teetered impatiently.

  “I’m talking about the older generation of course, parents, and grandparents. We want to be free of their tyranny.”

  “You mean you desire to send your own mother into exile?” the tortoise asked.

  Chita looked defiant.

  “This isn’t a personal matter, it’s for the good of the community. My mother will have to go with the rest.”

  “Well, my mother won’t,” the tortoise said shortly.

  “You are shockingly anti-social. I shall report this to my Committee,” Chita said angrily.

  “Why, have you got a Committee?” the tortoise asked in surprise.

  “Naturally, all movements have to have Committees,” Chita snapped, and swung off in high dudgeon.

  As a matter of fact Chita had no Committee, but he had decided on the spur of the moment that one had to be got together at once.

  Getting a Committee together wasn’t easy at first. Almost everyone was interested in the promise of getting a lot more food, but no one wanted extra work. But by dark Chita had managed to enrol four members. The young pig, a vulture, a crocodile and a cobra. Next day he had succeeded in working up their enthusiasm to a point where they set off to convert their own people to the idea that everyone who was a parent of an adult should go into exile.

  At first the old people and the parents took the thing as a joke, but by the time another week had passed it was serious. Gradually all the young people had withdrawn, and formed into hostile groups who were determined to drive away all parents and older people. Before the new moon came up the plan had been accomplished. Pained and bewildered the oldsters had been driven away, and the youngsters were left in possession.

  Chita had been kept so busy that he had had no time to attend to details, and he was curious to know how the tortoise had taken the change, and how he felt about parting from his mother.

  “So you are master of your own house at last,” Chita commented, when he found the tortoise sitting on the river bank.

  “No man is master,” the tortoise said slowly.

  “How did your mother take the change?” Chita enquired, not to be deprived of making his point. But the tortoise remained unmoved.

  “We are a philosophical family,” he replied with what appeared to be a shrug of his shoulders under his heavy shell, and he waddled slowly towards the water.

  At first the young people were pleased and excited by the new situation. They had far more food, more than they could possibly eat, in fact some of the very young ones became ill, and a few died as a result of over-eating. This fate overtook the young pig, and Chita had to find a new member for his Committee. However, it was easy this time, people were now only too eager to join. Food was so plentiful that there was very little to do. At first feasts had been organised, but after a time these palled. Committees were a new idea, and before long, there were so many Committees that it was quite bewildering.

  The tortoise, sitting peacefully on the river bank as usual one day, was bowled over by a young crocodile shooting out of the water.

  “Where on earth are you going to?” asked the tortoise.

  “My Committee m
eeting,” hissed the crocodile.

  “What Committee?” asked the tortoise.

  “The C.C.C.”

  “What’s that?” enquired the tortoise.

  “The Cultural Council of Crocodiles,” said the crocodile loftily, and swished off through the bush with an air of great importance.

  “Are you alone?” a quiet voice asked from the roots of a tree. “I’m alone, mother, come out and sit in the sun,” replied the tortoise.

  The mother of the tortoise came out cautiously, sat on the bank, and sighed.

  “Well, well! I never thought I’d see the day when I’d live like a fugitive. You know, son, sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be best if I went off and joined the other old people.”

  “Would you prefer it?” asked the tortoise.

  “It’s hard to say, everything is so strange nowadays, but I feel it might make things easier for you, and after all I’m no use here.”

  “But you may be,” said the tortoise. “Have patience, and stay a bit longer. This silly business can’t last. You’ll see.”

  But it did last, and it seemed to last a very long time when one was an old lady forced to live hidden under the roots of a tree. The rainy season had come, and gone, food was plentiful, and life was one long festival for the overfed animals.

  “The waste of food is terrible,” mourned the old lady, as she chatted with her son. “Whatever will become of them if they don’t put by some stores? It’s a good thing we don’t have droughts here. There hasn’t been one since I was a girl. That was a terrible time. I remember we had to eat all sorts of things we had never eaten before, and but for the fact that some very old people had been through droughts before, and knew what strange things were edible we shouldn’t have survived. A good many rash people were poisoned, or starved, as it was.”

  “Get back,” whispered her son. “I hear someone coming.”

  The old lady barely reached the roots of the tree when Chita appeared. He looked round him curiously. Strange tales had been carried to him lately. People reported that the tortoise was surely going out of his mind because he had been overheard talking to himself. At least he must have been talking to himself because when visitors walked in they found the tortoise alone. Chita was not satisfied however. He knew the tortoise was very wise, and cunning, and Chita had never been convinced that the tortoise had really given in to the new regime.