African Folk Tales

by Yoti Lane

  He had not reckoned on the result, because she thought it was a rat, woke up in terror, and shook him off, staring at him with frightened eyes. Abu sat down and tears rolled down his cheeks. Were all his efforts in vain? Would his mother never realise who he was? “Shoo,” she gasped, and poor Abu turned and fled. He ran out of the compound and into the bush. Sitting on the branch of a tree he began to cry pitifully. Because of his shrill voice it sounded like the cry of a baby.

  “What is the matter?” squeaked a voice, very like his own.

  Abu looked up to discover another bush baby peering at him inquisitively.

  Abu poured out his sad story. At first the other bush baby looked as if he didn’t believe a word. “You mean you are really a human boy?” he asked. “I am!” “You’ve been dreaming,” scoffed the bush baby. “I have not,” Abu squeaked indignantly. “I was born six years ago, and my father was killed in the war, and my mother is in that slave camp, and she’s wearing a pink robe with yellow flowers on it, and her name is Daughter of the Blacksmith.” The bush baby backed away in alarm. “Ooo, I believe you are telling the truth!” he shrilled.

  “Please don’t go, don’t leave me,” Abu sobbed. “My mother was afraid of me because I’m an animal, and now you’re afraid of me because I’m really a boy.” The bush baby sat down at a safe distance. “Now tell me all about it right from the beginning, and go slowly!” he commanded.

  When Abu finished the bush baby flicked his nose nervously, and peered at Abu out of his strange light eyes. “Well, I suppose you are telling me the truth, but it’s amazing, and you do seem to be in a mess. What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I thought you might help me,” Abu suggested.

  The little animal jumped.

  “Me! How can I help you?”

  “Are there many of you in this part of the bush?” Abu asked.

  “Not near here, but scattered around there are thousands of us, I expect.”

  “Then listen,” said Abu and proceeded to outline his plan.

  The bush baby was at first thoroughly alarmed, but at heart he was kind, and Abu at last persuaded him to try and put the plan into action.

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised at last, “but it will take at least a week to arrange!” With that he departed, and Abu had to settle down to a tiresome wait. In the meanwhile he did not try to get near his mother again. It was both dangerous and useless.

  On the sixth night the bush baby returned.

  “The plan is arranged,” he told Abu. “There are thousands of us waiting. It will be amusing to be the hunters instead of the hunted.”

  Half an hour later one of the sentries in the compound rubbed his eyes, and decided he must be having a nightmare. Small animals were pouring over the walls and through the gates. They passed over the sentry like a wave, leaving him lying on the ground shivering with fear. They poured into the huts occupied by the captives, who awoke screaming with terror, and scattered in all directions. The sentries were no less frightened, and could do nothing. Abu’s mother ran out pursued by hundreds of the little animals. She thought it was that they must have her marked down for destruction, because although she ran till she was breathless they still pursued her, led by one little fellow who seemed forever at her heels.

  At last she could run no longer, and sank to the ground behind a bush, closed her eyes, and waited for the end. Nothing happened. When she opened her eyes again there was not an animal to be seen. Gathering her wits together she realised that she was some distance along the trail which she had travelled with the slave caravan, so she crawled into the bush and slept.

  She woke at dawn, and it was only then that the real situation struck her dulled mind. She had escaped. She rose to her feet, and avoiding the road, went as fast as she could by small trails through the bush. After she had gone a short distance she heard a rustling behind her, and turned in terror. It was a bush baby, and she recognised him as the same one who had led the invaders the night before. She gathered up her skirts and ran, but was halted by what appeared to be the unhappy cry of a baby. She turned quickly. The little animal was sitting in the middle of the path weeping pitifully. The cry was not to be resisted. Half fearful, the mother turned back, walked towards the little fellow, and put out her hand. To her amazement he crept towards her, snuggled into her hand, and crawled up her shoulder.

  “Well, you are a queer little thing,” she said. “But you did save me last night. Do you want to come with me?” The bush baby seemed to understand her, for he nodded his head and crept closer still, hiding his weak eyes against the light.

  So for that day, and many days after, the mother and the bush baby travelled through the bush until at last they came back to the village. By this time the mother had become attached to the bush baby. “I’ll give you to my little son, when I find him,” she said. This remark seemed to send the bush baby into a frenzy of emotion, but of course the poor mother had no idea why.

  She was therefore very disappointed when she reached the outskirts of the village and the bush baby suddenly scrambled from her shoulder and dashed off as if he had most important business of his own. But when she heard from the villagers that her son had never been seen since her own capture she was too upset to think of the bush baby.

  In the meanwhile Abu had rushed to the witch’s house, shot through the door, and squeaked wildly at the crone who was crouched over her smoky fire as usual.

  “So you’ve come back. Did you see your mother?”

  Squeaking and dancing with impatience Abu told his tale.

  “Now change me back, change me back quick!” he implored the witch who was cackling with joy at his recital.

  The witch looked at him doubtfully as if trying to make up her mind.

  “You promised. You promised!” Abu reminded her. The witch nodded.

  “Have patience. Go sit over there and wait!” But Abu couldn’t sit except the way bush babies sit, hanging out of the ceiling, which he proceeded to do, watching the witch with anxious eyes.

  Again she made strange mixtures that smelled most evilly, and again she eventually produced a brew. This time, however, she had to hold the cup while he licked it up. He had no sooner done so than he felt as if he were swelling up and shooting out in all directions, and again the room seemed to rock round him. Then it steadied, and the witch no longer seemed enormous; she was a small wizened woman again. Abu gazed at himself eagerly. The fur had gone. He was himself once more.

  Abu was so relieved and so delighted that he flung his arms round the witch and embraced her. No one had ever done this before and she was so surprised that she stood speechless while he darted out of the hut.

  He ran all the way back to the village where he found his mother weeping outside the door of their home. She was overjoyed to see him, and so were all the people left in the village.

  From the edge of the bush, as darkness fell, the bush babies, many of whom had taken part in the rescue watched the scene. They were very pleased with themselves about the rescue, for it really was the most important thing they had ever done in their lives, and they felt a glow of pride about it for the rest of their days. Also they had acquired a new trick. They cried like babies as they had heard Abu cry when he was one of them. From that day to this they have retained that cry. So if ever you go through the bush at dark, and hear what appears to be a baby weeping unhappily, don’t worry about it. It is only the bush baby, and he is not really unhappy at all.

  THE VICTORIOUS TORTOISE

  THE TORTOISE IS a very clever fellow. He has to use his wits to get along in the world because he has neither the strength of the lion nor the speed of the hare. However his cleverness doesn’t make him popular with everyone, partly because he is inclined to be a bit conceited about it.

  For a long time he had irritated the elephant, until one day the elephant became so annoyed that he lost his temper. “You think you’re very smart,” he shouted. “But if it came to a fair fight I’d win every time!” />
  “Do you think so?” sneered the tortoise.

  “I know so!” said the elephant, and tore up the trunk of a tree and smashed it like a match stick just to show what he could do.

  The tortoise moved away a little, and watched the performance, but he was not very much impressed.

  “I think you would find you are mistaken,” he said calmly. “However if you like we shall try it.”

  “You mean you will fight me?” said the elephant.

  “Exactly. Just at dawn tomorrow morning, on the bank of the river.”

  “Why the bank of the river?” the elephant asked suspiciously.

  “Because the ground is level there, and because it’s near where I live. As you started this, I am at least entitled to choose the spot.”

  “The river is as good a place as any for the disposal of the body,” the elephant agreed.

  “I hope yours won’t block up the river,” the tortoise commented.

  The elephant put back his head and trumpeted loudly. He shook with laughter until tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Oh, go away, before I die of laughter!” he sobbed at last.

  The tortoise moved away at his usual slow pace. “You’ll laugh on the other side of your face my lad,” he vowed. As he walked off he saw smiles on the faces of other animals who had heard his encounter with the elephant, but he treated them with contempt, an expression which a tortoise assumes with great ease as you have probably noticed.

  He made his way to the river bank where he found the hippopotamus wallowing comfortably in the mud. Now the hippo is an unsociable fellow. If people let him alone, he lets them alone, but if there is any attempt to provoke him he can be very bad tempered indeed.

  “Ugh,” snuffled the tortoise. “How can you bear to wallow in all that nasty mud. Such a horrible smell!”

  “I like it,” the hippo growled. “My family have always taken mud baths.”

  “I think it’s a perfectly filthy habit,” said the tortoise.

  “No one asked you what you thought!” grunted the hippo. “No one asked you to come here either!”

  “I have just as much right to be here as you have,” snapped the tortoise.

  “Then keep a still tongue in your head,” the hippo told him.

  “You know, your manners leave much to be desired. What a pity you are such a rough diamond. I really should try to do something about it!”

  The hippo rose from the mud with gigantic upheaval.

  “Oh, you would, would you,” he retorted, his little eyes alight with rage. “I don’t think so much of your manners myself. In fact I’d like to give you a lesson or two!”

  “Are you threatening me?” asked the tortoise calmly.

  “Call it what you like, I’m coming to teach you a lesson,” the hippo replied, and started to wade towards the tortoise.

  “Stop!” said the tortoise. “I don’t believe in any rough and tumble business. If you want a fight we’ll have one in a proper manner. I’ll meet you here at dawn tomorrow, and then we’ll see who is the best man!”

  The hippo gave an unpleasant laugh.

  “Excellent, nothing would suit me better. It’s nice and cool then. Don’t forget to come though, will you?”

  “I certainly shan’t forget,” said the tortoise, and went away looking very satisfied, as indeed he might be, for his plot was working out perfectly.

  News of the contest between the elephant and the tortoise got around, but no one knew about the arrangement of the second fight, because the hippo was too unsociable to talk to anyone. The tortoise was perfectly well aware of that, it was in fact an essential part of his plot.

  Shortly before dawn the tortoise rose from his bed by the river bank, and peered through the mists for the elephant. Right enough he soon saw the elephant lumbering along, followed by a large circle of his friends who had come to see the fight.

  The tortoise then looked into the river, and there was the hippo lying in wait. As soon as he heard the noise of the approaching crowd he stood perfectly still, so that it was impossible for anyone to detect him in the mist. That also was just the way the tortoise wanted things, and he moved carefully behind some reeds, and waited, until the elephant reached the bank.

  “Ho,” the elephant chuckled. “So my brave friend has not arrived. I wonder if he has thought better of it.”

  Just as the elephant passed the spot where the tortoise was hidden, the tortoise grabbed the tip of the elephant’s trunk. The elephant was so surprised and hurt that for a moment he was helpless, and during that critical moment the tortoise swung himself straight out over the river bank towards the hippo. The hippo naturally made a grab at his foe, but in his excitement he caught the elephant’s trunk, while the tortoise wriggled free, and dropped into the mud.

  With a wild heave the hippo dragged the elephant over the bank and into the water, where the two of them thrashed round wildly, and the crowd unaware of what happened, were amazed at the extraordinary strength of the tortoise, who was actually sitting at a safe distance down river watching the gigantic struggles of the elephant and the hippo, who were badly mauled, and had fought themselves to a standstill before they discovered what had occurred.

  Then they dragged themselves to the bank, bruised and exhausted.

  “What on earth made you attack me?” asked the elephant.

  The hippo tried to explain what had happened, and became very excited, but during lengthy and confused explanations, and while practically everyone, including the onlookers, almost had a fight with everyone else, the elephant and the hippo realised that the tortoise had played a very cunning trick on them.

  So they apologised to each other, and parted, after vowing that never again would either of them become involved in any arguments with the wily tortoise. The onlookers came to the same conclusion, and that is why the tortoise is always left severely alone. No other animal ever attacks him, and they are all careful to keep on polite terms with him.

  THE AMBITIOUS ANTS

  ANTS ARE THE busiest creatures in the world. Every ant has a full time job, with no holidays and no half-days off. Ants like to work, and they don’t like much else. The biggest and strongest ants build whole cities for themselves, complete with compartments like deep shelters to which they can retreat if any enemies try to destroy the city above. In these cities there are even big stores where food is kept, and special nurseries for young ants.

  If you watch ants at work you will notice that they always work in vast numbers. One or two single ants never do anything alone. If they happen to get separated from the regular army they scuttle about in great distress until they find their way into the crowd again. Once there they get into line like soldiers, and march patiently off about their tasks.

  This was not always the way they worked. Once there were two ants who had very big ideas about what they could do. They believed that if they could make a tunnel all the way under the earth they would really be able to span the whole world, and that gradually every other creature would have to obey their orders.

  They decided that the best way to start this tunnel was to begin burrowing in opposite directions, and then they would eventually meet at the other end.

  So each ant began to burrow, and on and on they went. Of course they didn’t realise that it was most unlikely that they could work in such a straight line that they would meet in the end. Day after day, they dug, but there was no sign of their meeting. Finally the first ant began to think something was wrong. He decided that his partner was a very foolish fellow who had somehow taken the wrong turning, so he turned round and marched back. After a long and tiresome journey, down the tunnel he had made, he arrived in the open once more.

  Here he found everything as usual. Millions of ants were all scurrying around on their accustomed tasks, each one in an awful hurry—you may have noticed ants always are in an awful hurry— and he had to waylay one to ask for information.

  “Have you seen or heard anything of my friend who is m
aking a tunnel round the earth?” he asked a young ant who was carrying a large leaf on his back. “No, I haven’t,” replied the young ant. “But I did see someone being carried off on a stretcher. It may be your friend!”

  Seriously alarmed our ant hurried off to the hospital, and made anxious enquiries, but none of the ants brought in during the past few days were his friend. However, the ant on guard at the door had another piece of news. “I did hear about an ant who was going to tunnel his way round the world, he was brought in badly injured some days ago, and he died.”

  This upset our ant very much, and he at once scurried to the Registrar of Births and Deaths, where he made enquiries into all the burials of the past few days.

  “I don’t see your friend’s name,” the Registrar told him. “What makes you think he’s dead?”

  “Well he was helping to make a tunnel round the world, and it’s a pretty dangerous job.”

  The Registrar laughed.

  “Oh is he one of them? Crazy folk are always getting the idea that they can do that, just like some think they are Napoleon, or Julius Caesar, but most of them end up in the Mental Hospital. I should go and look there if I were you!”

  Our ant retreated in a thoroughly bad temper, consoling himself with the fact that great men were always misunderstood by those around them. “They said Christopher Columbus was mad too,” he muttered, and set off again for his tunnel, determined that he would make an effort to do the job single-handed.

  In the meanwhile the second ant had gone on tunnelling, and tunnelling until he was worn out, and still there was no sound of his friend’s approach from the other end. So finally he also decided that he would go back and try and find out what was the matter.