The Clever Adventures of Mafani: A Traditional African FolkTale
Once upon a time, there lived a boy whose name was Mafani.
One day, Mafani came to his grandmother and said, “Grandmother dear, please let me have a cutlass! I want to go and set some bird traps!”
“I cannot let you have a cutlass, my son. I fear you will hurt yourself,” his grandmother replied.
But Mafani was not easily discouraged. He picked up a fragment of a cooking pot, sharpened one end of it on a stone, and used it instead of a cutlass. Then he went and cut a number of long, slender shoots, covered them with a thick, sticky substance he had prepared from the sap of a gum tree, and planted them in the midst of a grass patch.
He had barely placed the traps when a turtle dove perched on one of them and was caught. Mafani took the dove to his hut and prepared it for his midday meal. However, his grandmother took the bird and ate it herself.
Then Mafani said to his grandmother, “When I asked you for a cutlass, you would not let me have it, but now you have eaten my bird. It is only fair that you pay me for it.” And his grandmother gave him a cutlass.
Mafani took the cutlass and went on a journey. Along the way, he met some people who were building a dam so they would have enough water for the dry season. They were having difficulty driving in the stakes because they were not properly sharpened.
Mafani watched them for some time. Finally, he walked up and said, “Why don’t you sharpen your stakes? How foolish of you to waste your time and strength this way!”
“But we have no cutlass with which we could sharpen the stakes,” the people replied.
“I have an excellent cutlass with me, sharp enough to cut through a log,” said Mafani. “I can lend it to you if you’d like!”
So they took Mafani’s cutlass and sharpened their stakes. But in their eagerness to finish quickly, they used the cutlass rather roughly and broke it in two.
Then Mafani said, “You have broken my cutlass and must pay for it.” And they gave him several calabashes filled with drinking water. He took these and continued on his way.
After a while, he met some people who were collecting edible ants. Having been out in the heat for some time, they suffered from thirst. When Mafani came along, they begged him to let them have some water.
“I am willing to help you, but don’t drink it all,” said Mafani. But when the people tasted the water, they kept drinking until not a drop was left. Mafani said, “Now pay me for the water!” And they gave him a measure of ants.
As Mafani passed on, he saw some birds busily collecting oil seeds for their evening meal. He approached them and said, “Why do you eat these seeds? They will surely make you sick. You should try some of these ants instead. Here, help yourselves, but give me back the rest!” And he handed them the measure of ants.
The birds began to eat and kept eating until the last ant was gone. Then Mafani said to the birds, “Now that you have eaten all the ants, it is only fair that you pay me for them.” When the birds heard this, they flew to a nearby tree and plucked plenty of fruit, which they gave in exchange for the ants. Mafani took the fruit and continued on.
After he had traveled some distance, he came to a big hill. He was too tired to climb the hill with a load on his head, so he threw himself down in the shade of a palm tree to rest. There he met a party of hunters. They were very hungry and looked longingly at Mafani’s fruit. When Mafani saw this, he told the men to help themselves. In a short time, they had eaten all the fruit, leaving not a bit.
This was not at all to Mafani’s liking, and he said, “Listen, friends! I invited you to help yourselves to some fruit, but I did not give you permission to eat it all. Now that you have eaten every bit of it, I must insist that you pay me for it.” And they paid him with the leg of a pig.
As Mafani continued on, he came to a lonely hut where an old woman was drying salt by the fire. He placed the meat the hunters had given him on the fire to roast. When it was well done, the old woman took it and ate it all. Then Mafani said to the woman, “Since you have eaten all my meat, it is only fair that you pay for it.” The woman agreed and gave him a measure of salt.
Shortly after, as Mafani was passing over the top of the hill, he met the Wind, who was driving dry leaves and fibers from a nearby ceiba tree before him. “How foolish of you,” said Mafani to the Wind. “You should take some of my salt instead.” The Wind took hold of the salt, and in the twinkling of an eye, it was all gone.
Then Mafani said to the Wind, “Did I not tell you to take only part of my salt? Now that you have taken it all, you should pay for it.” Then the Wind called another wind, caught it in a bag, and gave the bag of wind to Mafani.
As Mafani continued on, he met the wife of a chief who was cleaning corn. Mafani said to the woman, “How strange that you, the wife of a powerful chief, should clean the corn yourself! Why not use some of the wind in my bag?”
The woman took the bag and untied it to use the wind. In a moment, all the dust and chaff were blown away, leaving only the clean, full-weighted corn. But the bag that had contained the wind was now empty. “Why did you use all the wind?” Mafani asked. “Now you must pay for it. I was willing to do you a favor, but I don’t care to be cheated!” The woman, being well-to-do, paid him with a double measure of corn.
After Mafani had left the woman, he noticed a flock of wild pigeons by the wayside, busily picking berries. He said to them, “For goodness’ sake! How can you live on such miserable fare? Why not try some of my corn?” And he opened his bag and set it before them.
In an incredibly short time, the pigeons had eaten all the corn. Not a single kernel was left. When Mafani asked the pigeons to pay for the corn, they gave him a measure of oil seeds. From these he made oil, put it into a calabash, and continued on.
He came to a town where a woman had died. They were making preparations for her burial. Everything they needed was at hand except one very important item—oil with which to anoint the body. When Mafani heard of their trouble, he offered them some of his oil. After they had used the last bit of it, Mafani demanded other oil in return. Being unable to pay, they let him have the dead woman. Mafani took the body and went away.
When he came near another town, he took the body, placed it against a tree on the edge of a precipice, and entered the town, where a wrestling match was taking place. Mafani stood and watched for a while. Then he said to one of the maidens nearby, whose beauty and rich clothing had caught his attention, “I pray you, go and call my wife, who is waiting for me just outside the town. Her name is Mawum.”
The maiden went and found the woman leaning against a tree, apparently sound asleep. She called, “Mawum! Mawum!” When there was no answer, she went to wake her. But when she touched the body, it fell over and rolled down the precipice.
The maiden was terrified. When she had sufficiently recovered from the shock, she ran back and told Mafani, “Your wife has fallen down the precipice!” Mafani said to the maiden, “What have you done? I shall hold your father responsible for my loss!” The maiden’s father then gave his daughter to Mafani and said, “Take her; she is yours. May she be the life of your life and the joy of your heart.”
Mafani took his bride and returned to his grandmother. They were very happy together and lived to a good old age.
The Clever Hare and the Community Well: A Southern African Folktale About Cooperation and Cunning
Once there was a terrible drought. No rain fell, the lakes dried up, and the animals had no water. So Mphontholo the Lion, who was King, called all the animals together and said, “You must dig a well. Each of you must do his share and take his turn.”
But Shulo the Hare said, “I shall not waste my time nor trouble myself with any digging. Let the others do that.” So he ran off by himself.
But the other animals all gathered to do their share; they came from many different parts of the country and each one, as he trotted in to the place chosen for the well, sang as he ran:
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
Then the animal began to dance, for he thought that by dancing he would kick up the ground. That was his way of digging. And as he danced, he sang:
Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!
Then he made way for the next animal, saying:
Ti no lu kanda kuna, Va Njou!
I give my place to you, Sir Elephant!
Then Njou the Elephant would dance and sing:
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!
At the end of his dance Njou would say:
Ti no lu kanda kuna, Va Nyati!
I give my place to you, Sir Buffalo!
Then Nyati the Buffalo would dance and sing:
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje,
Chinya’nje-nje’leka nje.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
I’m coming, joggy-jog trot.
Kuputu, kuputu, bukuta mphuli!
Kuputu, kuputu, the dirt is flying!
At the end of his dance, Nyati would say:
Ti no lu kanda kuna, Va Shelen!
I give my place to you, Sir Bushbuck!
So it went on until all had sung and danced and dug, yet no water was in sight. Now, of course, though the animals thought they were digging, they were really only packing the earth down harder and harder by dancing in the same place.
So they all took counsel together, and the King called Hamba the Tortoise, and Hamba said, “The water is under the earth.” And so instead of dancing on top of the earth, he dug down, way underneath, far into the ground, and there he found the water!
When the well was finished, the animals were very happy, for they knew that they would have plenty to drink. But they also knew that they could not trust Shulo the Hare. They said, “Though Shulo would not help and has done none of the digging, we know that he will come at night and try to steal our water.” And they said, “Each night one of us must watch the well.” And Bongo the Hyena said, “I will watch the first night.”
Shulo, meanwhile, was planning how he could get the water, and he filled his calabash with honey and went to the well. There was Bongo, just as he expected. Shulo said, as though talking to himself, “I’ve got something here so sweet that anybody who tastes it would have to be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.”
Bongo said, “Ho, Shulo! Give me some of that sweet stuff.” And Shulo dipped a stick in the calabash and smeared a little of the honey across Bongo’s mouth. Bongo licked his lips. “More!” he cried. Shulo said, “Anybody who tastes this would have to be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.” Bongo answered, “Tie me up, Shulo, but give me some more.” So the Hare tied the Hyena hand and foot, but instead of giving him any honey, he went to the well and drank all he wanted and filled his water gourds. Then he jumped into the water and splashed around; then he ran away, leaving the well all muddy and dirty.
The next night the animals set Kamba the Leopard to watch. And along came Shulo again, talking to himself and saying, “I’ve got something so sweet that anybody who tastes it would have to be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.” Kamba said, “Let me taste it, Shulo!” So Shulo smeared the Leopard’s mouth with honey, and Kamba licked his whiskers and said, “More!” But Shulo answered, “Anybody who tastes this would have to be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.” Kamba said, “Tie me up as tight as you like, Shulo, but give me another taste.” So the Hare tied the Leopard, all four paws, but he never gave him any honey at all. He filled his gourds and then drank at the well; then he jumped into the water and splashed and muddied it. Then he ran away, leaving it all dirty.
The next night they set Mphofu the Antelope to watch, and when the moon was rising, along came Shulo saying, “I’ve got something so sweet that anybody who tastes it would have to be tied up before I’d give him another taste.” And Mphofu said, “Let me taste it, Shulo!” Then Shulo smeared the Antelope’s mouth with honey. Mphofu had never tasted anything like that before, and he licked his nose and said, “Give me some more!” But Shulo answered, “Anybody who tastes this would have to be tied up before I’d give him a second taste.” Mphofu, too, was willing to be tied up for another taste of the honey, so Shulo bound him, all four hooves, and then he not only drank his fill at the well but bathed in the water, muddied it and ran away home.
So it happened every night, and always Shulo carried full calabashes home to his kraal, and all through the drought his family had plenty to drink.
At last it came to the Tortoise’s turn to watch by the well, but instead of waiting on the bank, wise Hamba the Tortoise went down into the water and lay quietly at the bottom. When Shulo saw that there was no one at the well, he laughed to himself and said, “So they have given it up! And the well is mine without any work and without any digging.” So he set his calabashes out on the rim of the well, and he jumped into the water. But no sooner was he in than Hamba, who was lying quietly on the bottom, opened his mouth and snapped at Shulo’s foot. He caught Shulo and held him tight so that he could not move. When Shulo saw the fix that he was in, he said, “Is that you, Hamba? I’ve got something so sweet that I’ll let you have a taste if you want some.” He hoped that Hamba would open his mouth and let go of the Hare’s foot. But Hamba never said a word. He held Shulo tight and fast till the daylight came, and when the other animals came to the well for their morning drink, there was Shulo caught at last.
They bound him, and they took him before Mphontholo the Lion to be judged. Mphontholo said, “You would not help to dig the well, but night after night you have stolen the water and made the well all muddy for the other animals. You must die.” And the Hare said, “Oh Mphontholo, oh King! If I must die, grant me first one little request. Let me sing just one little song, let me dance just one little dance before my death.” The King thought, “There can be no harm in that, for all the animals will sit around in a circle and watch Shulo so that he cannot escape.” So the Lion was merciful and granted Shulo his wish.
Then the Hare began to sing and clap his hands, and he danced and sang:
Nandi Shulo kupembela-u
Novi yalin?
Mangwan!
Hi, oh Hare, going away,
Returning when?
Tomorrow!
Iwe Shulo kupembela-u
Novi yalin?
Mangwan!
You, O’Hare, are going away.
Returning when?
Tomorrow!
Kuti Shulo wapembela-u
Wozvi yalin?
Mangwan!
If, O’Hare, going away,
Returning when?
Tomorrow!
Now the other animals, seeing Shulo dance, began to beat time to the music and to clap too, and soon they began to sing with Shulo, for it was a most irresistible song! And soon their feet began to move because they could not keep still with all the singing and clapping, and in a little while all the animals were dancing. Because of the drought, the earth was so dry that a thick cloud of dust arose from all those dancing feet, and when the animals stopped dancing, tired out — for it was a fine dance! — they could not see one another for the dust.
And when the dust cleared, where was Shulo? He had run away!
The Hare Who Believed the Rooster’s Dream: A Timeless African Folktale About Wisdom and Gullibility
One day, Shulo the Hare was visiting Jongwe the Rooster’s home and he saw the Rooster standing on one leg. His other leg was gone, and his head was gone, too! The Hare was so astonished that he stood stock-still, and then ran home and told his wife.
The next day he went to see the Rooster again. But the Rooster was up in a tree, and his head was there again and so were both his legs.
The Hare was still more astonished, and he said, “When I saw you yesterday, your head was gone and you had only one leg.”
“Oh,” said the Rooster, “that’s nothing! My head and my leg went visiting. They went off to another kraal, and we had singing and beer-drinking. I often enjoy myself that way without trouble. I tell my wife to cut off my head and my leg, and then my head and leg go visiting and have a good time. It is very easy.”
So the Hare thought, “I’m going to try that, too! If Jongwe can do that, why can’t I?”
So he ran home and told his wife. “Wife, take a sharp knife and cut off my head and my leg so that they can go visiting like the Rooster’s. I saw Jongwe again today, and his head and leg were on again, and he told me that they had been away to another kraal, dancing and singing and drinking beer. Now I want my head and leg to do the same, so cut them off!”
“But if I cut off your head,” said the wife, “you will die!”
“No, I won’t,” said Shulo, the Hare. “Jongwe is not dead. I saw him one day with his head and leg gone, and I saw him the next day with his head and leg on again. You do what I say.”
So the wife took a sharp knife and cut off the Hare’s leg and then his head. She waited for the head and leg to fly off visiting, but they never moved. And there lay Shulo the Hare, dead.
So she ran to the Rooster’s kraal.
“My husband is dead!” she cried. “What shall I do? His leg and his head have never gone visiting at all! How shall I put them on again and bring him to life?”
Then Jongwe the Rooster laughed to himself, for he knew that his own head and leg had never been cut off. He had only drawn his leg up under him to rest it while he went to sleep, and as for his head, he had simply tucked it under his wing. The visits he had had were pleasant dreams of singing and beer drinking in other kraals.
sudan talesfolktalesgabon folkloreFulani Folklore
The Debbi: Tales From Central Africa
The so-called debbi is a wild animal; its height is less than that of a dog. They say that it frightens all the wild animals.
Once upon a time, a man went down to a lonely river to fetch water. But at the river he found all the eatable and uneatable animals drinking. So the man hid himself in a certain place until all the animals had drunk and gone away.
But while the man was hiding thus, he observed all the animals. And after they all had drunk, each went to its place. And the elephants were romping together, and the lions together, and the hyenas together. And they all were scuffling, each with its kind.
Now, while they were in this state, the debbi came down to the river. And when it came, all the animals became wildly excited and fled instantly, and all left the riverbed.
The man was very much astonished and exclaimed, “Thy wonder, God! What is this?”
Thereupon the debbi came down to the well and, after it had drunk, it went up; then it wallowed at a certain spot and went out by the way in which it had come down.
Now, when all had gone away from the riverbed, the man rose from his hiding place, wondering that all the eatable and uneatable animals had fled from the little one. He drew water from the well and started on his way.
But then he thought, “I had better try to find out exactly of what sort that is which has put them all to flight.” And he came to the place where it had wallowed, and there he found a hair. Then the man took the hair and tied it up with a knot in the corner of his cloak.
Afterwards when he entered a village, all the people of the village fled from him. But the man did not know for what reason they fled from him.
And he went to another village, but the people of that village also fled from him.
And the man was frightened and said to himself, “What have I become, that all flee from me as from a madman?”
But from among the people of the village, a brave and courageous man stood before him and shouted at him, saying, “You, man! What do you have with you by which you put us to flight?”
The other replied, “I have no weapons; on the contrary, you flee from me by yourselves!”
Again the man said to him, “No! Do you perhaps have some root with you?”
Then he thought of the hair and answered him, “I have no root, but I went down to a riverbed and, because I found there all the wild animals, I hid myself until they made room for me. And from my hiding place I observed this: a little hairy one smaller than a dog came down to the river, and when the animals saw it, they all fled from it, even the elephants. And, after it had drunk from the well and gone up, it wallowed at a certain spot. Thereupon, wondering very much, I took a hair from its wallowing place, and it has been in the end of my cloak until now.”
And the other man bought the hair from him with money. Then he sewed it up in a leather case, and it became a talisman unto him, and he hung it around his neck. And the people of every village and tribe were afraid of him. Whatever he took raiding, he brought home, and when his village was raided, he made the raiders give up their booty. And there was nobody who could stand before him in a fight.
But afterwards, when he lost the talisman with the hair, warriors killed him, they say.
And now men say about a man who has something frightful about him: “He has probably a hair of the debbi with him.”
This debbi is only seen sometimes, and then everybody, be it man or animal, flees from it. But he who finds some of its hair fallen on the ground and carries it on his body is feared by all men. And the abiding-place of the debbi is generally the Gash-Barka region, but it is not often seen.
FARMER MYBROW AND THE FAIRIES
Farmer Mybrow was one day looking about for a suitable piece of land to convert into a field. He wished to grow corn and yams. He discovered a fine spot, close to a great forest which latter was the home of some fairies. He set to work at once to prepare the field.
Having sharpened his great knife, he began to cut down the bushes. No sooner had he touched one than he heard a voice say, “Who is there, cutting down the bushes?” Mybrow was too much astonished to answer. The question was repeated. This time the farmer realized that it must be one of the fairies, and so replied, “I am Mybrow, come to prepare a field.” Fortunately for him the fairies were in great good humour. He heard one say, “Let us all help Farmer Mybrow to cut down the bushes.” The rest agreed. To Mybrow’s great delight, the bushes were all rapidly cut down with very little trouble on his part. He returned home, exceedingly well pleased with his day’s work, having resolved to keep the field a secret even from his wife.
Early in January, when it was time to burn the dry bush, he set off to his field, one afternoon, with the means of making a fire. Hoping to have the fairies’ assistance once more, he intentionally struck the trunk of a tree as he passed. Immediately came the question, “Who is there, striking the stumps?” He promptly replied, “I am Mybrow, come to burn down the bush.” Accordingly, the dried bushes were all burned down, and the field left clear in less time than it takes to tell it.
Next day the same thing happened. Mybrow came to chop up the stumps for firewood and clear the field for digging. In a very short time his faggots and firewood were piled ready, while, the field was bare.
So it went on. The field was divided into two parts one for maize and one for yams. In all the preparations digging, sowing, planting the fairies gave great assistance. Still, the farmer had managed to keep the whereabouts of his field a secret from his wife and neighbours.
The soil having been so carefully prepared, the crops promised exceedingly well. Mybrow visited them from time to time, and congratulated himself on the splendid harvest he would have.
One day, while maize and yams were still in their green and milky state, Mybrow’s wife came to him. She wished to know where his field lay, that she might go and fetch some of the firewood from it. At first he refused to tell her. Being very persistent, however, she finally succeeded in obtaining the information but on one condition. She must not answer any question that should be asked her. This she readily promised, and set off for the field.
When she arrived there she was utterly amazed at the wealth of the corn and yam. She had never seen such magnificent crops. The maize looked most tempting being still in the milky state so she plucked an ear. While doing so she heard a voice say, “Who is there, breaking the corn?” “Who dares ask me such a question?” she replied angrily quite forgetting her husband’s command. Going to the field of yams she plucked one of them also. “Who is there, picking the yams?” came the question again. “It is I, Mybrow’s wife. This is my husband’s field and I have a right to pick.” Out came the fairies. “Let us all help Mybrow’s wife to pluck her corn and yams,” said they. Before the frightened woman could say a word, the fairies had all set to work with a will, and the corn and yams lay useless on the ground. Being all green and unripe, the harvest was now utterly spoiled. The farmer’s wife wept bitterly, but to no purpose. She returned slowly home, not knowing what to say to her husband about such a terrible catastrophe. She decided to keep silence about the matter.
Accordingly, next day the poor man set off gleefully to his field to see how his fine crops were going on. His anger and dismay may be imagined when he saw his field a complete ruin. All his work and foresight had been absolutely ruined through his wife’s forgetfulness of her promise.
WHY TIGERS NEVER ATTACK MEN UNLESS THEY ARE PROVOKED
A man, hunting one day in the forest, met a tiger. At first each was afraid of the other; but after some talking they became quite friendly. They agreed to live together for a little time. First the man would live with the tiger in his forest home for two weeks. Then the tiger would come and live in the man’s home.
The tiger behaved so well to the man during his visit that the man felt he had never been so well treated in all his life. Then came the time for the tiger to return home with the man. As they were going the tiger was somewhat afraid. He asked the man if he really thought he would be safe. “What if your friends do not like my face and kill me?” he asked. “You need fear nothing,” said his host; “no one will touch you while I am there.” The tiger therefore came to the man’s house and stayed with him three weeks. He had brought his male cub with him, and the young tiger became very friendly with the man’s son.
Some months later the man’s father died. When Tiger heard of his friend’s great loss, he and his cub set out at once to see and condole with him. They brought a large sum of money to help the man.
As Tiger was going home again two of the man’s friends lay in hiding for him and shot him. Fortunately he was not killed, but he was very much grieved lest these men had shot him at his friend’s wish. He determined to find out if the man had known anything at all about the shot.
Accordingly he went to the place in the forest where he had first met his friend. There he lay down as if he were dead, after telling his cub to watch and see what would happen.
By and by the man came along. When he saw the tiger lying, as he thought, dead, he was terribly troubled. He began to cry and mourn for his friend, and sat there all night long with Tiger’s cub, to watch that no harm should befall the body.
When morning came and Tiger was quite assured that his friend had had nothing at all to do with the shot, he was very glad. He got up, then, to the man’s great astonishment, and explained why he had pretended to be dead.
“Go home,” said Tiger, “and remember me always. In future for your sake I will never touch a man unless he first meddles with me.”
WHY SPIDERS ARE ALWAYS FOUND IN THE CORNERS OF CEILINGS
Egya Anansi was a very skilful farmer. He, with his wife and son, set to work one year to prepare a farm, much larger than any they had previously worked. They planted in it yams, maize, and beans—and were rewarded by a very rich crop. Their harvest was quite ten times greater than any they had ever had before. Egya Anansi was very well pleased when he saw his wealth of corn and beans.
He was, however, an exceedingly selfish and greedy man, who never liked to share anything—even with his own wife and son. When he saw that the crops were quite ripe, he thought of a plan whereby he alone would profit by them. He called his wife and son to him and spoke thus: “We have all three worked exceedingly hard to prepare these fields. They have well repaid us. We will now gather in the harvest and pack it away in our barns. When that is done, we shall be in need of a rest. I propose that you and our son should go back to our home in the village and remain there at your ease for two or three weeks. I have to go to the coast on very urgent business. When I return, we will all come to the farm and enjoy our well-earned feast.”
Anansi’s wife and son thought this a very good, sensible plan, and at once agreed to it. They went straight back to their village, leaving the cunning husband to start on his journey. Needless to say, he had not the slightest intention of so doing.
Instead, he built himself a very comfortable hut near the farm—supplied it with all manner of cooking utensils, gathered in a large store of the corn and vegetables from the barn, and prepared for a solitary feast. This went on for a fortnight. By that time, Anansi’s son began to think it was time for him to go and weed the farm, lest the weeds should grow too high. He accordingly went there and worked several hours on it. While passing the barn, he happened to look in. Great was his surprise to see that more than half of their magnificent harvest had gone. He was greatly disturbed, thinking robbers had been at work, and wondered how he could prevent further mischief.
Returning to the village, he told the people there what had happened, and they helped to make a rubber man. When evening came, they carried the sticky figure to the farm and placed it in the midst of the fields to frighten away the thieves. Some of the young men remained with Anansi’s son to watch in one of the barns.
When all was dark, Egya Anansi (quite unaware of what had happened) came, as usual, out of his hiding place to fetch more food. On his way to the barn, he saw in front of him the figure of a man and at first felt very frightened. Finding that the man did not move, however, he gained confidence and went up to him. “What do you want here?” he said. There was no answer. He repeated his question with the same result. Anansi then became very angry and dealt the figure a blow on the cheek with his right hand. Of course, his hand stuck fast to the rubber. “How dare you hold my hand?” he exclaimed. “Let me go at once, or I shall hit you again.” He then hit the figure with his left hand, which also stuck. He tried to disengage himself by pushing against it with his knees and body until, finally, knees, body, hands, and head were all firmly attached to the rubber-man. There Egya Anansi had to stay till daybreak, when his son came out with the other villagers to catch the robber. They were astonished to find that the evil-doer was Anansi himself. He, on the other hand, was so ashamed to be caught in the act of greediness that he changed into a spider and took refuge in a dark corner of the ceiling lest anyone should see him. Since then, spiders have always been found in dark, dusty corners where people are not likely to notice them.
THE SQUIRREL AND THE SPIDER
A hard-working squirrel had, after much labour, succeeded in cultivating a very fine farm. Being a skilful climber of trees, he had not troubled to make a roadway into his farm. He used to reach it by the trees.
One day, when his harvests were very nearly ripe, it happened that Spider went out hunting in that neighbourhood. During his travels, he arrived at Squirrel’s farm. Greatly pleased at the appearance of the fields, he sought for the roadway to it. Finding none, he returned home and told his family all about the matter. The very next day they all set out for this fine place, and set to work immediately to make a road. When this was completed Spider—who was very cunning—threw pieces of earthenware pot along the pathway. This he did to make believe that his children had dropped them while working to prepare the farm.
Then he and his family began to cut down and carry away such of the corn as was ripe. Squirrel noticed that his fields were being robbed, but could not at first find the thief. He determined to watch. Sure enough Spider soon reappeared to steal more of the harvest. Squirrel demanded to know what right he had on these fields. Spider immediately asked him the same question. “They are my fields,” said Squirrel. “Oh, no! They are mine,” retorted Spider. “I dug them and sowed them and planted them,” said poor Squirrel. “Then where is your roadway to them?” said crafty Spider. “I need no roadway. I come by the trees,” was Squirrel’s reply. Needless to say, Spider laughed such an answer to scorn, and continued to use the farm as his own.
Squirrel appealed to the law, but the court decided that no one had ever had a farm without a road leading to it, therefore the fields must be Spider’s.
In great glee Spider and his family prepared to cut down all the harvest that remained. When it was cut they tied it in great bundles and set off to the nearest market-place to sell it. When they were about halfway there, a terrible storm came on. They were
Obliged to put down their burdens by the roadside and run for shelter. When the storm had passed, they returned to pick up their loads.
As they approached the spot, they found a great, black crow there, with his broad wings outspread to keep the bundles dry. Spider went to him and very politely thanked him for so kindly taking care of their property. “Your property!” replied Father Crow. “Whoever heard of anyone leaving bundles of corn by the roadside? Nonsense! These loads are mine.” So saying, he picked them up and went off with them, leaving Spider and his children to return home sorrowful and empty-handed. Their thieving ways had brought them little profit.