The Best of African Folklore Page 3

  “I have not failed you,” he said to her, “and the time for my release has come. What is there left for me to do?”

  “Repeat the same magic words three times more,” she replied, and again he said,

  “River, river, magic river,

  You bewitched us long ago;

  Change us from the shapes you gave us

  Back to the forms we used to know.”

  There was a sound of distant rumbling, and the third cave gradually opened, growing larger as it did so. The imprisoning valley faded away; the sluggish black river vanished; the rocks and boulders turned into beautiful glossy cattle, while the stones became sheep and goats which grazed peacefully amongst rich pastures. Crops stood ready for the reapers and all the countryside was smiling. Gone were the steep sinister cliffs and instead there stood before him the same twin peaks between which he had entered the valley those long ten months before.

  “Now, twice more, good Sanfu – your task is nearly done,” said the dove with longing.

  As his voice ceased for the second time, the cave on the left-hand side of the dove burst open. Out flew flock upon flock of the beautiful birds that had been imprisoned there. Circling and dipping as they flew, their brilliant plumage flashed in the sun.

  For the third time Sanfu repeated the magic words, and the door of the animal cave opened, to release the herds of joyful creatures that rushed headlong into the lovely valley that awaited them.

  “Again, Sanfu, again!” cried the dove, in a frenzy of excitement, and for the fourth and last time he obeyed her.

  Now came the most wonderful change of all, and he watched in astonishment as the birds took human shape, turning into hundreds upon hundreds of beautiful women and children, who surrounded the loveliest girl he had ever seen. They sang and danced for joy, rejoicing to use their human limbs once more. At the same time the herds of buck and animals became splendid warriors, who clashed their gleaming spears against their dappled ox-hide shields, as their ringed cat-tail aprons swung from their hips. A royal impi, with the proud pink beads on their necks and blood-red feathers fixed in their hair. At their head was their king, majestic and dignified in his leopard-skin trappings. On each side of the king strode a handsome prince – who had, for long years, stood as black ravens on either side of the White Dove at the entrance to the cave. The old woman herself was there, carrying the same tall staff, but now changed back into the tribe’s trusted and wise Sangoma.

  Shouts of gratitude rose for the man who had released them from the cruel spell, and from the centre of the crowd of women, there came towards him the lovely girl he had noticed a short while before. “At last you see me in my human form, good Sanfu,” she said “for I am the White Dove!”

  Then the king spoke: “Noble prince, we owe you so great a debt that anything you wish shall be yours; cattle, sheep, goats – up to half my kingdom!”

  Sanfu looked down and did not answer.

  “What?” exclaimed the king after a while; “do I not offer enough? Name your wish, and you shall have it.”

  “I have only one wish,” replied Sanfu, at last raising his eyes, “and it is to marry the loveliest princess in the land – the White Dove. Cattle and sheep I do not need for my own father is also a king, who will give me all the wealth a son could desire. My marriage gifts to you will be as great as you desire, but you alone are able to give me what my heart longs for.”

  His eyes met those of the White Dove, who was now smiling happily at Sanfu’s request.

  “I see that my daughter already loves you,” said the king, and he paused in thought. “I must consult the elders of our tribe. Have patience while we discuss the matter.”

  It was a long, long time that the king kept Sanfu waiting for his answer, for in all such matters of importance, the greater the prize, the longer the discussion, and it was a weary wait indeed. Sanfu was almost despairing when at last the day came when the king sent for him, and granted his request.

  “I must make one condition though,” the king ended, “and that is you become one of my tribe, and live with us for ever. For the White Dove is our dearest possession, and we cannot let her go. So hurry home, greet your family and return to us again. My blessings go with you.”

  Sanfu’s parents had long thought that he was dead, killed by wild beasts. They welcomed him with great rejoicing and marvelled when he told his tale.

  In due course his father sent him back with full honour, together with an impi of picked warriors, and a bridal-gift enough to satisfy any king.

  Amongst the many festivities in “The Valley of the Birds” a magnificent marriage feast was held, and the love and happiness of the bride and her groom lasted to the end of their lives. The ageing king never regretted the reward that Sanfu had won. As his sons were now both ruling their own kingdoms in faraway lands, the old man was happy before he died to hand over the governing of his kingdom to Sanfu and the White Dove.

  THE LION’S POOL

  SWAZI

  Thembekeli and her new husband spent the first year of their married life in the home of her mother-in-law. That was accepted as a wise custom, for there were many things that a young bride needs to learn from an older woman. The marriage had been expensive for her husband Vuka, because her father had demanded many fine, sleek cows for her wedding gift. However, he had no regrets, for she was a good wife. Not only was she good-looking and hard-working, but never had he known a better cook – and she took pride in providing the tastiest meals for his homecoming, when they returned together from their daily work in the fields. They grew beans and pumpkins besides the yearly supply of mealies, and Vuka’s mother went with them on their daily trips for she, too, worked on her own patch of land.

  From early morning to late afternoon the three hoed and weeded in their precious fields, to make sure of a good harvest to feed them in the winter. They returned to their home tired and hungry as the shadows lengthened. There Vuka always found the tastiest meal awaiting him, which his young wife had prepared in the early hours of the day, for she was anxious to show her husband how well she would cook and brew his favourite beer.

  Thembekeli’s mother-in-law was a greedy old woman who eyed her son’s good food each day with increasing envy. She muttered to herself as she bent to her daily hoeing; there would be no tasty meal awaiting her, after her day’s work was done. Admittedly she could rise early to cook herself a tasty evening meal, but somehow she never got round to it, for she liked to lie in bed as long as she could.

  The more the old woman thought about it, the more greedy and jealous she became. Whatever happened, she must at least have a taste of her son’s lovely evening meal, and she thought out a cunning plan. She took off her cow-skin apron and, digging her hoe firmly into the earth, draped the garment carefully over the handle. “Now,” she ordered the hoe, “keep on digging until I return!” Obediently the hoe rose and fell, continuing her work.

  Delighted with this trick, the old woman hurried home, knowing that if her son should look towards her field, he would see what appeared to be her figure, hard at work. “How very clever of me!” she chuckled as she hastened on her way.

  “One tiny taste!” she thought as she scooped a handful of the tender mealies, spinach and pumpkin from her son’s pot. “Salted just right too!” Then, as she sipped from the calabash that stood against the wall of the hut, “What excellent beer! The best in the land.” It all tasted so delicious, that before long both the pot and the calabash were empty. She gave a belch of satisfaction and hurried back to her field. There was her hoe, with her apron still draped over the handle, working obediently as she had left it. It looked exactly like an old woman at work.

  It had been a particularly hot and tiring day for Vuka and his wife, so they were glad when the shadows had lengthened sufficiently for them to shoulder their hoes and return to their cosy hut. They called to the old woman as they passed her field, and she joined Thembekeli in gathering wood for their evening fire as they went home. Vuka s
trode ahead, eager for his evening meal, but imagine his disappointment and surprise, when he found nothing but an empty pot and an empty calabash which did nothing to satisfy his hunger or thirst!

  “Look at this!” he exclaimed to his wife as she entered the hut and put down her bundle of wood.

  “A thief has been here while we worked, and has eaten our evening meal!” He went to his mother’s hut to see if she, too, had been robbed.

  “No,” replied the old woman, with a look of pretended surprise on her face. “Everything is as I left it this morning.”

  On the following morning she played the same trick again, only this time the old woman dared to do even more. She put on her son’s best jackal-skin cloak, dressed herself in the love-beads that had been so carefully made for him by his bride, took down the walking stick from its peg on the wall and, carrying the tasty meal into the sunshine, sat down to enjoy it. Once more it was not long before she had eaten the food and drunk the beer; but this time she had added insult to injury, for never never should a woman wear the clothes and ornaments of a man, nor eat her meal in the sunshine.

  That evening when they returned, Vuka found the same disappointment waiting for him. “Tomorrow I will stay behind,” he told Thembekeli, “and catch the thief as he enters our hut.” But the old woman, guessing his plan, worked steadily at her crops all day, and so there was no thief for Vuka to catch.

  “Tomorrow I will work in the fields again,” he told his wife that night, “and later I shall return and hide behind a bush, for perhaps someone watches until we leave.”

  The three left for the fields after they had eaten next morning, and as the sun climbed high into the heavens Vuka slipped back to hide behind a bush that overlooked his hut. He was astonished when he saw his mother walk boldly into the hut, and appear soon after dressed in his best clothes, while in her hands she carried his own plate – full of food and the pot of beer. She sang gaily as she sat down outside the hut to enjoy her feast – but her song turned to moans of shame when her son came out from behind the bush and she knew she had been caught.

  “How dare you do this? I should kill you!” he exclaimed angrily.

  “Oh, my son, my son!” she wept, “I do deserve to be punished. Oh, whatever made me do this dreadful thing. My greed will be my downfall.”

  “I will spare your life,” said Vuka, “but your greedy stomach needs a lesson. Take this,” and he handed her an earthen pot, “and do not return until you have filled it with the clear and sparkling water from a pool in which no creature has ever lived. It will mean a long and dangerous journey, but only when it has been completed, will I forgive you.”

  With many tears the old woman put the pot on her shoulder and left upon her journey. For many days she wandered, searching, until eventually she reached a clear and sparkling pool, where water lilies and reeds grew at the water’s edge. She stooped down hopefully. “Does anyone live in this pool?” she asked.

  “Yes,” croaked a chorus of frogs, appearing on the surface of the water and scrambling onto the lily leaves. “This is our home. Go away!” Sighing sadly, she rose to continue her search.

  The night times were frightening, and she had little sleep when she heard the wild animals moving stealthily around her. More than once she heard a lion roar, and the mocking laugh of the hyena – which often carries a witch upon its back – added to her terror. Food was always scarce, for there were few roots and berries and her search for them took much of the day.

  Further and further from her home she wandered, and the days passed into weeks. Many a new moon rose before she found another pool that raised her hopes. No reeds or water-lilies surrounded this one, and the blue sky and clouds above were all that were reflected in its quiet waters. “Surely,” she said to herself, “nothing could have its home in such stillness.” So she bent down hopefully. “Does anyone live in these quiet waters?” she asked, but her hopes were dashed when a shoal of fish raised their heads above the water and many voices mocked, “Yes, it is our home. Go away!”

  She sat sadly at the water’s edge for some time, and then rose once more to continue her search. The sun beat down mercilessly as she picked up her pot and trudged on. Again the days passed into weeks as the new moon rose and fell until, worn out with anguish and despair she saw the cool, inviting shade of a large forest ahead. At least, she thought, here she would find shelter from the cruel sun, and she stumbled into its gloom. She sat down to rest under the refreshing shade, only to feel some strange force calling her on. Tiny paths spread out in front of her, and many buck and small animals stopped to gaze.

  She went further into the forest, drawn on by the same strange, compelling force, until at last she came to a large clearing. In the centre was a clear still pool, beside a tall tree. By now she needed water for her parched throat, and she stooped to drink. The reflection of her tired and worn face brought back the memory of her search, and she wearily called into the silent depths, “Does anyone live in this quiet pool?” There was no reply, so she asked the question again. Once more there was silence. Her thirst forgotten, she was about to dip her pot into the water when angry voices behind her said, “Woman, what do you want? Do you know whose kingdom you are in? This is the Lion’s Pool.”

  She looked round fearfully, to see a group of animals had gathered threateningly behind her.

  “Please,” she faltered, “do not hurt me. I want only to quench my thirst and fill my pot from your silent pool. When this is done, I will return home, leaving my blessings with you.”

  “You are fortunate,” said one, “that our lord the lion is not here for he would kill you for your daring. However, we will have pity upon you, for you appear to be in need of our help.”

  The old woman thanked them and gratefully drank as the animals watched. Then, dipping the pot into the sparkling water, she filled it. But when she tried to rise she found that the roots of the tree had grown over her legs, binding her securely to the ground. She burst into tears, and cried out, “Dear animals, please help me!”

  They muttered together, and at last she heard one say, “We must guard her against the Lion’s anger, for the spell said that one day a human would set us free. Giraffe, you must be on guard. With your long neck you can watch through the tree tops and see him coming.”

  “No, no,” replied the giraffe, “for I can’t see in the dark, and our lord lion often returns at night.

  Surely the leopard would make a better guard?” But the leopard too refused, pointing out that, although he could see in the dark, it was in the night time that he hunted his food and if he got too hungry, he might be tempted to eat her.

  It was then that the hare stepped forward. He was always looked up to for his wisdom. “Let me use my sharp teeth,” he said, “to gnaw through roots that bind her. Perhaps she will be of more use to us alive than dead, and she has done us no harm.”

  They nodded in agreement, and the hare at once began the long task he had chosen, until finally he had gnawed through the last root, and the woman rose thankfully to her feet. She praised the hare for his help and the other animals for their kindness, filled her pot from the pool and left the forest as fast as her legs would take her.·

  Many weeks later she reached her home, but she had travelled swiftly and with a light heart. Food and water too, seemed less difficult to find, and she slept more peacefully at night, where all was quiet and at rest. “My son,” she said when she arrived, “thanks to the kindness of some forest animals, my punishment has been completed. Here is the water from a pool in which no creature has ever lived.”

  As she handed the water to her son, a tremendous change was taking place in the forest of the Lion’s Pool. The animals were changed into human beings, with the lion as their king; the trees became beautiful huts, and the many tracks became pathways round the kraal. They all sang the praises of the human who had released them from an age-old spell cast upon them by a wicked ogre, to be broken only when water from their magic pool was handed t
o the eldest son of an old woman.

  When she had told him of her long and difficult journey, and of the kindness of the forest animals, Vuka was happy to forgive his mother for her wicked greed. As the years passed, he drew many people to live under the rule of his justice and protection, so that eventually he became the chief of a large and happy tribe.

  THE TORTOISE AND THE BIRDS

  SWAZI

  Long, long ago, besides the animals of the earth and birds of the air, there lived strange creatures whose home was far above the clouds. They were good and kind, and although it was only the birds who had ever seen them, the animals knew they were there. But no one knew their name.

  One year there was drought everywhere and both birds and beasts were nearly dead from hunger. The Cloud People looked down in pity upon the earth dwellers and said, “Come up, all you who have wings, and let us feed you, for here there is plenty to eat.”

  The birds were delighted, and the news went from bird to bird that they should gather upon a certain big rock. They would fly up together from there. While they were waiting for the late arrivals they twittered excitedly about the feast awaiting them. In this rock were many hollows and holes, and in one of them lived two tortoises. They, too, were suffering from hunger, and while his wife was away hunting for a morsel of food, her husband listened to the excited chattering of the birds.

  “Oh, I wish I had wings like you, my friends!” he said, coming out of his hole to join them.

  “Can’t you take me with you? I’m just as hungry as you are.” Of course, he realised, he did not look like a bird, but since the invitation had included all the creatures that could fly, the Cloud People would surely take pity on him too.

  “We’d be happy to have you with us,” answered the birds, “but you are too heavy for us to carry, and you can’t fly without wings.”

  “Oh, but I’m starving!” he sobbed. They listened to him with sympathy, and discussed the matter among themselves.