Hyaena and Little Granny Hyaena and Little Granny met on the road while going to help at a wedding.Hyaena said, “Hey, grandmother, where are you going?”Granny: “I am going to help.”Hyaena: “No, grandmother, your wedding help stops here.” He seized Granny, buried her in the mud, and said: “I am softening you here for a while. When you are soft, I will come back and eat you.” He went off. Granny dug around, rose up, washed herself clean, and went to the dancing place where Hyaena was beating his little drum and singing: “I just washed my muddy objectat the creek.” Granny danced and answered: “tejete, tejete, tejete…it is muddy object dancing for you there.” They repeated this—Hyaena beating and singing, Granny replying and dancing—until night. In the night Granny slipped away quietly and went home, leaving Hyaena. Hyaena came back, looked where he had buried Granny, dug around, and exclaimed, “Hey, Granny has gone after all.” Ending formula: That’s the end, a story of lies—there it goes, there it is coming back. The Chief’s Divorced Wife A chief had a wife who became pregnant. She went to the back yard to urinate, and a hawk called above. She asked, “My hawk, what are you making a noise at?”The hawk said: “What is in your belly is greater than you; greater than your master; greater than your husband; greater than his master.” She told the chief. He said, “There shall not be in my compound what is greater than I. Hurry, take your clothes and baggage. Go—I divorce you.” She left. The sun was fierce; she gave birth in the bush. Food, slaves, money, kola, everything appeared, and a little village formed there. A hunter from the chief’s town came upon the village, saw the beautiful children, and returned to report. The chief sent a hundred horsemen to bring the children. The little boy, seeing their dust, sang (Mandinka refrain), then struck them one by one, broke the horses’ legs, put out their eyes, blinded and crippled the men, leaving one to warn the chief: “We are not ordinary.” The chief himself came with attendants. As he approached, the boy sang again. The chief said, “Father, I ask your pardon; we come in peace.” They ate and shared kola. The boy recited in call-and-response—“Father, move here; I move here”—retelling the hawk’s words, the expulsion, the bush, the heat, and concluding: “We are greater than you; greater than your superior; greater than my mother; greater than her superior.” The ashamed chief began to change into a monkey; the boy stopped him: “No, father.” He gave the chief the village: “For you are the chief, and we are your children.” Ending formula: A tale of lies—there it is going; there it is coming back. Little Pigeon (Purayel), Chardi, and Hyaena They reached Chardi’s place and went to the meeting ground. Little Pigeon sang: “E’ezeleze, kelele, kelele,my mother and my father said to me,I should go to the uplands,I should not eat, I should not drink…” Hyaena also sang his refrain. The people said, “Today you will be squeezed.” They squeezed Little Pigeon; he did not urinate or defecate. They squeezed Hyaena; the place filled—every latrine, everywhere stank. The people said, “Well, Little Pigeon, it is you who has Chardi.” Little Pigeon went home with his wife. Hyaena rested. Ending formula: That is the very end. A story of lies—there going away, there coming back. The Hunter and His Dogs A hunter had two wives: Little Loved One (Njidangel), who did nothing; and Little Hated One (Nganyangel), who did all the compound work. He had many dogs. Each morning he went early to the bush with them. One day he went without the dogs, entered the deep forest, and the wild animals surrounded him. He climbed a rôn palm. The animals gathered with axes and chopped. When the tree was about to fall, he kicked it and it became whole again. From the treetop he sang to summon his dogs: “sibi jauru jauru…call the dogs for me—come, Knaves; come, Striped.” At home, only the dogs heard. They broke out, made a path, descended on the wild animals, and killed them all. The hunter came down, cut the best fat for the dogs, and they ate until full. He went home; the dogs followed. He asked who opened the kennel. Loved One blamed Hated One. The hunter said he had not known friend from enemy; without the dogs he would not have returned. He told Hated One to ask for what pleased her. Hated One said: shave Loved One’s head clean, chop it, rub pepper and salt, cut her throat, and place her head at Hated One’s doorway so she could strike it going in and out. The hunter did so. Ending formula: That’s the end of the tale. A tale of lies—there it is going away; there it is coming back. Lip Tattooing There was once a child. On the day her age mates gathered to be tattooed, she was told she must not be tattooed. She cried and cried, went off into the bush, still crying. A spirit came, changed into a little old woman, and asked, “Child, what are you crying about?”The child said, “No one can take this sadness from me.” The old woman said, “Tell me what caused it.”The child said, “All my age mates went for tattooing. For me, tattooing is taboo.”The old woman said, “Is that all? I will tattoo you, but until this day comes round again, do not tell anyone. If you tell, it means death.”The child agreed. The old woman tattooed her lip until it was very black, polished her teeth until they shone, sucked her and spat her out—she became very beautiful. The old woman said, “Do not forget. When you go, keep silent until this day returns.” At home, her mother asked, she did not answer. Companions asked, she did not answer. At last her mother worried: “Since the tattooing day, she has not spoken.” The mother planned a test with the hawk: when the children went to wash, the hawk would seize their clothes and return each set only after the owner sang. At the pool the hawk took the clothes and perched in a tree. Each girl sang; the hawk returned her clothes. One by one, until only the silent girl remained. She sang, but did not smile. The hawk refused to return her clothes. Her companions urged her, but she kept her mouth closed. Pressed, she finally smiled. Everyone exclaimed at her black gums and fine teeth—so that was why she would not speak. The hawk gave back her clothes. Back home, she called her age group and sang for gifts from her mother: millet, cooking pots, food, then sang again to dismiss them and to declare she was “going home.” She lay down and died. Where she was buried, a beautiful little cotton tree sprang up. Passersby said, “Look, the little cotton tree is beautiful—like so-and-so.” Ending formula: The tale is finished. That’s the complete thing. The River Crossing and the Hippopotamus A woman needed to cross a river. A bird agreed to go with her under one condition: if she told anyone how she crossed, the bird would report it on her return. The hippopotamus ferried her over. At home, all who asked, she answered only, “Through God.” One night with her lover, she told him: “A hippopotamus carried me.” The bird, perched in the rafters, heard and sang out the whole sequence—“Her mother asked: ‘Through God’; her father asked: ‘Through God’… now the boyfriend asked, and she told him.” They went to the river. The bird kept singing. The hippopotamus surfaced and complained he could not hear. He coaxed the bird closer: onto his back, then his nose, then his lips—then chewed him up and scattered his bones in the river. He said: “What is told in secrecy should not be told openly.” He took the woman back across. She went home.Ending formula: A tale of lies. There it is going; there it is coming back. The Greedy Husband A woman had a greedy husband. Each day she cooked and carried food to his farm. Each time, the bowl was perfectly clean on arrival—though she had not opened it. He cursed and beat her for bringing an “empty” bowl, threatened to kill her if it happened again. An old woman advised her. She cooked the sweetest food, carried it, and when she reached a certain tree, crawled under it. As she emerged, her husband fell from the tree to the ground—he had been eating from the bowl on the way. She set down the bowl and went home. Ashamed, he turned into a monkey. Ending formula: That’s the very end. The Cattle Carried Away by the Wind A man had herds upon herds of cattle. One day a marvelous wind came and carried them away. Neither cattle nor herdsman returned. The man searched in vain. He died. His little child grew to a youth. The youth asked his mother about the lost herd. She said: “A wonderful wind blew them away.” He set out with staff and bag to seek his father’s cattle. In each village he sang and asked; people sent him onward. At last a very old man said that long ago a great wind had indeed driven cattle by “like this.” The youth went deep into the bush. He would climb a tree and sing for the herd leader by name, Uule. He listened; nothing. He traveled on, climbed, and sang again: “Uule—unlike any other,with twisted horns,with pointed teats…” One day, as he sang, he heard lowing. He found the herd multiplied beyond measure. He sang; they followed. He sang again; they followed, lowing, until they reached home. The dust of their numbers made the town think an army had come. The herd filled all the clearings; they cut more bush to hold them. The youth told his mother, “I have brought my father’s cattle.” She rejoiced: “Those are the very ones.” Ending formula: The tale is finished—a tale of lies. There it is going; there it is coming back. The Son Who Was Changed into a Girl (Fatuma) A woman bore only sons. When the last was born, she hid that he was male, dressed him as a girl, and raised him as Fatuma. The king married her. On the wedding night he loosened skirt after skirt; morning came and the skirts were not all undone. One day Fatuma went to the bush and cried. A spirit in the form of a little old woman asked why. Fatuma said: “My mother said I am a woman, made me a woman; but I am a man, and now I am the king’s wife. The old busybody has told people I am a man. The king has declared: on Monday all wives will dance at the bantaba and each must loosen her skirt so all may see they are women.” The spirit promised help if Fatuma told no one. She sucked her and spat her out; the world turned red, then green, then back again. She worked Fatuma’s body until Fatuma became a woman; she sharpened her teeth like grains of rice; she tattooed her gums black. She gave Fatuma testicles to cook and feed to the tattling old woman. The old woman ate, grew great testicles, and, ashamed, could not leave her house. On Monday the wives danced and loosened their skirts. At last Fatuma entered, danced and loosened her skirt. All saw: “Truly, she is a woman; the old woman lied.” The old woman, shamed, turned into a monkey and fled to the bush. Fatuma went home. Ending formula: A tale of lies. There it is going; there it is coming back. Penda Who Could Not Be Shamed A woman named her daughter Penda-Who-Could-Not-Be-Shamed. Penda grew, and the king married her. The co-wives plotted to shame her. Task 1: The rice field. The king gave his wives swamp fields; he gave Penda a hill. Penda called Little Fly to ask her mother. Her mother said: place two grains of rice under a lifted stone on the hill and go home. In the morning, the hill was dancing with rice—Penda’s field was most beautiful. Task 2: Guarding the rice. Co-wives had children to scare birds; Penda had none. Her mother told her to cut two equal dukume sticks, lay them in the field, then place them in a gourd. In the morning, two little children were in the gourd—singing and clapping. No bird approached Penda’s field. Her harvest overflowed the king’s storehouses. Task 3: Sour milk from a bull. The king ordered sour milk from each wife; Penda had only a bull. Her mother told her to catch the bull’s urine in a milking calabash and set it high on the platform. By morning it had turned to cream. Penda brought it; the king admitted he could not shame her—“but still we shall see.” More tests: He demanded out-of-season challe fruit. Her mother told her to pluck challe leaves and keep them covered (the text cuts; result implied by later scenes). Finally, he ordered all wives and their children to the bantaba. Penda refused to bring her children until mats were spread from her house to the bantaba—first bamboo (rejected), then woven mats, then cloth. When cloth was spread, she brought out two shining children; as she stepped out, “the whole world turned green.” The king conceded. (Ending beyond this point in your text stops here; no further events given.) The Rider Monster (Mairam) A woman far advanced in pregnancy went to fetch water. A worm offered to help lift the jar—she refused. A fish offered—she refused. A hippopotamus offered—she refused: “You will eat me.” At last the river stirred through colors—blue, green, red—and the river monster rose. Each time he lifted the jar higher (ankles, knees, waist, shoulders, above her head), he asked what she would give him. She answered the same: “If it is a male, he will be your opponent; if a female, your wife.” He agreed and returned to the river. She gave birth to a girl, Mairam, who grew to marriageable age. One evening Mairam and companions were at the diure, talking and laughing. The monster rose from the river, singing toward the village: “Mairam ma jinjilo is below,Mairam ma jinjilo is below.” At first the youths mocked the warning; then they listened and heard the song. They scattered to their homes and locked their doors. Mairam ran home, but her mother had locked the door and would not let her in. Her father wanted to open, but the mother stopped him. With nowhere to go, Mairam sat on the diure. (Your excerpt ends here; no conclusion is given in the text provided.) Mairam ma Njinjilo (The River Monster and Mairam) At the riverside, the monster began to sing as he came: “Mairam ma njinjilo ji to lei.Mairam ma njinjilo is below.” From the village they called out:“Inna am, yo. Ba am, yo. Mairam ma njinjilo di to lei.” The monster kept singing: “Mairam ma njinjilo di to lei.” Mairam answered: “My mothers, my fathers,I do not know what is calling me.Mairam ma njinjilo is below.” The monster seized Mairam, placed her on his head, and started toward the river, still singing: “Inna am, yo. Ba am, yo. Mairam ma njinjilo di to lei.” When the monster was about to carry her away, Mairam’s boyfriend came running. He took his gun, approached, and aimed. He called: “Hey, stop!” and prepared to shoot the river monster. The monster halted and said: “Hey, my friend. You are very brave. But if you had fired, your gun would not have touched me. I would have killed you, and taken Mairam. Yet I will leave Mairam with you. Your love for her is greater than mine. I could kill you, but you are brave.” He continued:“I leave her with you for the sake of God. But hear this: her mother promised her to me, long ago when she was pregnant, when she could not lift her water pot. I lifted it for her, and she vowed: if the child were male, he would be my opponent; if female, my wife. That is why I came. But I see your love is strong. Take her.” So the monster released Mairam to her lover. He returned into the river. Mairam and her boyfriend went home together. Ending formula: That is the end of the tale, a tale of lies. There it is going away, there it is coming back.(Washington, D.C., 1975) Hare and Hyaena Once Hyaena quarreled with Friend Hare. One day they went hunting. At a fork in the road, Hare said:“You take the left, I take the right.”Hyaena replied: “No, you will eat away while I starve. I take the right, you the left.”They agreed to meet back at the fork. Hyaena went and found beetles. He gathered them, filled his bag, chewed, filled, chewed, until full. Hare went and found a hollow tree. He said: “Bo ngar.” It opened. Inside was honey. He ate and ate until full, then filled his bag. He said: “Bo kip.” The tree closed. He returned. At the fork, Hyaena showed his beetles. Hare tasted: “Cham, cham, cham. Beetles!” and spat them out. Hare then dipped his finger into his own bag, gave Hyaena a taste. Sweet honey! Hyaena bit Hare’s finger and threatened: “Tell me where, or I’ll break it off.” Hare told him: “Take that path. There is a hollow baobab. Say ‘bo ngar’ to open, ‘bo kip’ to close.” Hyaena went, repeating: “Bo kip, bo ngar…” He reached the baobab, said “Bo ngar,” and it opened. He saw more honey than ever. He ate until his head was pressed into the sticky trunk. He said “Bo kip,” and the tree closed. When he tried to leave, his head was glued inside. He pulled and pulled but could not escape. Hare passed by. Hyaena begged: “Friend Hare, help me out!” Hare cut a rod, struck Hyaena, and knocked him free—but his scalp tore off, stuck to the baobab. Furious, Hyaena chased Hare, but returned to stick the scalp back on. Hyaena and the Old Grandmother Hyaena went to Little Grandmother. He said: “Granny, shave my head.” She said: “My knife is dull.” He insisted. She tried, and the loose scalp fell off. Hyaena demanded payment. Granny said: “Take a sheep.” Hyaena took one, ate it. Each time he returned, she gave him another, until only one ram remained. He demanded it. She wept. Lion passed and asked. She told him. Lion said: “Tie me in the pen. Give me to him.” When Hyaena came, he thought Lion was a ram, tied him, and took him home. On the road he asked Hare to help herd. Hare noticed Lion’s eyes shining and sang riddles, but pretended. Soon he slipped away. Hyaena took Lion home, told his wife Sira: “Bring fire, bring the cooking pot.” As they prepared to slaughter, Lion sprang up, broke free, and the family fled to the rafters. One by one the children grew tired, dropped, and Lion killed them. Then Sira fell, and Lion killed her. Only Hyaena remained, clinging, farting, and filling the house with dust. At last he too fell. He escaped barely, Lion close behind. Hyaena cursed Hare: “If I catch him, I will kill and chew him.” On the road he found a dead dog, its teeth bared. Thinking the dog was mocking him, he beat its bones to dust. He searched for Hare. People told him Hare had passed. At last he found Hare disguised. Realizing too late, he pursued and caught him. He tied Hare, made a fire, and prepared to cook him. Hare pleaded: “Kill me in the fire, but don’t put me in the dew—I fear the dew.” Hyaena said: “What you hate most, that I will do.” He threw Hare in the dew. Hare jumped up laughing: “Did you forget? I was born in the dew!” He ran off, leaving Hyaena raging. Ending formula: That is the tale. A tale of lies—there it is going away, there it is coming back.(Washington, D.C., 1975) 1) The Fork in the Road & the Honey Tree Hare and Hyaena went hunting and reached a fork.Hare: “You take the left; I’ll take the right.”They agreed to meet back there. Hyaena found beetles, chewed and filled his bag. Hare found a hollow tree. He said “bo ngar” (it opened), ate honey, filled his bag, then said “bo kip” (it closed). Back at the fork, Hyaena shared beetles. Hare tasted: “Cham, cham, cham… beetles,” and spat them out. Hare dipped a finger in his honey and let Hyaena taste. Hyaena bit Hare’s finger and threatened to break it unless he told the place. Hare directed him to the hollow baobab and the words to say. 2) Hyaena Stuck in the Baobab Hyaena reached the hollow baobab repeating, “bo kip, bo ngar…”He said “bo ngar,” it opened. Inside: more honey than he’d ever seen. He ate and licked until his head pressed into the sticky trunk. He had earlier said “bo kip,” so the tree had closed behind him; when he tried to leave, his head was glued fast. He pulled and pulled, but couldn’t get out. Hare passed. Hyaena begged help. Hare cut a rod, struck him free—Hyaena’s scalp stayed stuck to the tree. Enraged, Hyaena chased Hare, then returned and stuck the scalp back on. 3) The Scalp & Little Grandmother Hyaena went to Little Grandmother: “Shave my head.”Granny: “My knife is dull.”Hyaena insisted. As she touched his head, the loose scalp fell off. Hyaena demanded payment. Granny said, “Take a sheep.” He took one and ate it with his wife Sira and their children. He kept returning for more, until only the ram remained. He demanded the ram; Granny wept. 4) Lion as “Ram” & the Rafters Lion met Granny, heard her story, and said: “Tie me in the pen; give me to him.”Hyaena came, didn’t look closely, tied Lion with a rope, and led him home. On the road he met Hare and asked him to help drive “the sheep.” Hare, seeing Lion’s eyes, sang teasingly but slipped away. At home Hyaena told Sira: “Bring fire, bring the pot.” As they prepared to cut the throat, Lion sprang up. The family fled to the rafters. One by one Hyaena’s children tired, fell, and Lion broke their necks. Sira fell; Lion killed her. Hyaena held on, farted to raise dust, finally dropped, scrambled out, and jumped the doorway. Lion nearly caught him, but he escaped. Hyaena blamed Hare: “If I catch him, I’ll kill him and chew him.” 5) The Dead Dog On the road Hyaena found a dead dog, its teeth bared by the sun. Thinking it laughed at him, he beat its bones to dust with a big stick. 6) Hare in Disguise Hyaena hunted for Hare. People said they’d seen him “just now.” Hare heard and put on a goatskin. Hyaena met him and asked if he’d seen Hare. In a disguised voice Hare said he hadn’t (and kept “thinking” about it). Later Hyaena realized it had been Hare in a skin and doubled back, piirti, piirti, piirti, until he caught up with Hare. He tied Hare tightly, gathered wood, set a hot fire, and brought a cooking pot. 7) The Dew Escape Hare pleaded: “If you must kill me, put me in the fire; **do not put me in the dew—**I fear the dew.”Hyaena: “What you hate most, I will do.”He threw Hare into the dew. Hare sprang up, brushed himself off, and laughed: “Did you forget? I was born in the dew!” He ran off, leaving Hyaena raging. Ending formula (cycle): That is the tale. A tale of lies—there it is going away; there it is coming back.