by Phillip Martin
© 1990
"Help me," the old man begged. "My neighbor has stolen from me."
The paramount chief gladly listened. It pleased him that others recognized his wisdom. "What exactly is the
problem?" questioned the chief.
"My neighbor stole my goats. I'm a poor man, too poor to replace them."
"And what do you have to say?" the chief asked the man's neighbor.
"I don't know what he is talking about," answered the neighbor. "I have many goats but none of them belong to
this man."
This would not be an easy problem to settle. The paramount chief would have to rely on his wisdom. It was the
kind of problem he enjoyed the most.
"I have a test for you," announced the chief. "Whoever passes the test will own the goats. Go home until you
can answer this for me. I want to know what is the fastest thing in the world. Do not return until you have my
answer."
The two men left shaking their heads. Who could answer that question?
The old man repeated the question to his daughter, Ziah. She was as beautiful as she was wise. Right away, she
whispered the answer that would please the chief. The old man returned to the chief the following morning.
The chief was surprised. "You already have an answer for my question?"
"Yes," replied the old man, "it was not difficult."
"And what is the fastest thing in the world?"
"Time," answered the old man. "We never have enough of it. It always goes too fast. There is never enough
time to do all that we want to do."
The answer amazed the paramount chief. He wasn't sure if he himself could have answered the question as well.
"Who helped you? Who gave you these words?" demanded the chief.
"They are my own words, my own thoughts," lied the old man. "There is no one else who helped me."
"If you are not telling the truth, I will punish you," warned the chief.
The old man was too afraid to continue the lie. "It was my daughter, Ziah, who gave me the words," he
confessed. "She is a very wise woman."
"She must be!" thought the chief. "I would like to meet this woman."
Not long after that the old man presented his daughter Ziah to the paramount chief. If the chief was amazed with
her wisdom, he was captivated by her beauty. "You are indeed a wise and lovely woman. I would be honored to
have you as my wife. Will you marry me?"
"The honor is mine," smiled Ziah.
Although the chief was pleased, he was also concerned about having such a wise wife. He did not want her to
interfere with the problems brought before him. He didn't want to share this honor with anyone, not even his
wife.
"Everything in my house is yours," declared the chief. "I only have one rule for you. You must never involve
yourself with the problems brought before me. This is your only warning. If you break this rule, I will send you
from my house."
The chief's new wife only smiled at his command.
Things went well for quite some time. The paramount chief continued to hear people's problems while Ziah
kept herself busy without becoming involved. Usually she agreed with his decisions.
One day, however, the chief gave one of his puzzles to two boys who argued over a sheep. Ziah knew she
shouldn't help the boy who really owned the sheep, but he was so upset. She finally asked him to explain his
problem.
"The chief asked for the impossible," he sighed. "He gave us an egg and said that whoever could hatch the egg
by tomorrow would own the sheep."
Ziah knew she shouldn't help but the solution was so obvious. "Take some rice to the chief," she instructed.
"Tell him to plant it today so that in the morning you will have rice to feed your chicken. He will know that it is
just as impossible to grow rice in one day as it is to hatch an egg that quickly."
The boy ran to the chief with the rice. He said exactly the words he was told. The chief was not impressed; he
was angry! "Who told you this? Who gave you the rice?" he ordered. "These words are too wise for one so
young."
"They are my own words, my own thoughts," said the boy too afraid to speak the truth. "There is no one else
who helped me."
"If you are not speaking the truth, I will punish you," warned the chief.
"It was Ziah!" cried the boy. "She knew you'd understand the wisdom."
The chief, furious his wife had broken his only rule for her, called her before him and scolded, "Didn't you
know all that I have is yours? You have broken the only rule I had for you. Now, go back to your father's
home."
"Before I go, may I fix you one final meal?" asked the woman. "Then, I will take what is mine and go."
"Yes," answered the chief. "Make whatever you want. Take whatever you want. Just be sure that you do not
remain here tonight!"
Ziah prepared the chief's favorite meal. She served it with a generous amount of palm wine. Before the meal
was finished, the chief became very drunk and quietly fell asleep. Ziah's plans worked exactly as she had hoped.
With her family's help, she carried the paramount chief to her father's home. They placed him on a bed and he
slept soundly through the night. In the morning the chief's voice boomed throughout the house. "Where am I?
What am I doing here?" he demanded.
Ziah entered the room and grinned. "You said I could take whatever I wanted from your house. I wanted you
and so I took you."
"You are certainly a wise woman," smiled the chief. "Come return with me to our home. Only a fool would
send away such a woman."
"And you, my chief, are no fool," whispered the clever wife.
by Phillip Martin
© 1990
There was once a young girl from a village far way who had a special talent for finding the very best foods in
the bush. Her oranges were just a little sweeter, her plums just a little larger, and her bananas had just a little
more flavor. Everyone wondered where she located such delicious fruits. But, nobody ever asked the girl about
her secrets of the bush. That is, nobody asked her after they heard the story about Spider and this young girl.
One day Spider asked this young girl to help him look for food. He was too lazy to work for himself and was
sure he could trick this girl into sharing her secrets. He didn't know how clever this girl could be.
"Little girl, nobody finds fruits as sweet as yours," cooed the spider. "Will you please take me with you when
you go looking in the bush?"
"I've never done that before," replied the girl.
"It would mean so much if you could do it one time," pleaded Spider.
"Well, I suppose I can do it just once," agreed the girl. "Do you promise to keep my secrets?"
"You can trust me," promised the lazy spider.
"What do you like to eat?"
"Well, I like plums and bananas, of course, but I especially love honey."
"I think I can help you," grinned the girl.
Spider couldn't believe his luck.
The girl lead Spider along the path into the bush. She took him down trails into areas where people rarely ever
go. Spider grinned because he knew he was about to learn her secret places for finding the very best food. After
learning this, he would never again have to work hard for good food.
"This plum tree," explained the girl, "does not have much fruit so most people ignore it, but its plums are the
sweetest ones in all of the bush."
Now Spider was just as greedy as he was lazy. As soon as the young girl showed him the secret plums, his eyes
became wide and his mouth began to water. Then, Spider shoved the little girl into the bushes. He rushed past
her and climbed up into the tree. Then, he ate every single one of the plums. He didn't even leave one plum for
the little girl. And, he didn't even say thank you!
After his feast, Spider rubbed his very full belly and thought, "This is the best day of my life! What a great idea!
I can't believe she showed me where her plums are found. I wonder if she will take me to any bananas? She
must be very foolish."
Spider looked down at the girl with his biggest smile and she asked politely, "Do you want any of my special bananas?"
He raced down out of the tree before the girl could change her mind.
The girl continued down the path showing Spider her secrets of the bush. They walked further down the trail
into areas where people rarely ever go. "Over here is a small patch of the very best bananas," declared the
young girl. Again, as soon as Spider learned the secret, his eyes became wide and his mouth began to water.
Again, he shoved the little girl into the bushes. He rushed past her and climbed the banana plants. He ate every
single one of the ripe bananas. Again, he left the young girl with nothing -- not even one banana. And once
again, he didn't even say thank you!
His belly was so full, but Spider was not satisfied. He wanted to learn more of the secret places of the bush. He
thought to himself, "This girl is really foolish. But, as long as she guides me, I will continue to eat all of her
food."
Again, Spider looked down at the little girl and smiled. Once again, the young girl looked up at Spider and
politely asked, "Are you too full or would you like to find some honey?"
One more time, Spider rushed out of the tree and followed the girl down the trail before she had a chance to
change her mind.
The young girl guided Spider deeper and deeper into the bush where people rarely ever go. "Over here," she
instructed, "is a very special tree. Deep inside a small hole is the most delicious honey in all of the bush."
Now this girl was not nearly as foolish as Spider thought. She had a plan to teach this greedy spider a lesson.
She remembered that Spider loved honey and was not surprised at all when his eyes became wide and his mouth
started to water. She also wasn't surprised when he shoved her into the bushes, ran past her, climbed up the tree,
and squeezed into the hole. Again, he ate all of the sweet golden honey, sharing nothing with the young girl. He
didn't even share one drop. And once again, he didn't even say thank you.
When Spider had eaten his fill, he tried to climb out of the tree but he couldn't get out the hole. His stomach had
grown too large. He was stuck!
"Help me, young girl," cried the spider. "I cannot get out of the tree!"
"You wouldn't be stuck if you hadn't been so selfish," scolded the girl.
"I'm sorry for what I did! Please call for help," cried Spider.
"I am not as foolish as you think. You aren't sorry for what you did. You are only sorry you are caught in the
tree."
"No, you're wrong," lied the spider but in his heart he knew she was right. He had enjoyed every minute, every
bite of food, as long as he thought he was tricking the young girl. He never expected his idea to turn into such a
problem for him. "Please call for help! I am trapped!"
Finally, a smile crossed over the little girl's face and she said she would do as the spider asked. She cried for
help -- as softly as she could, "Help! Help! The foolish spider is caught inside the honey tree. Help! Somebody
come and help this greedy spider!" Of course, nobody could hear her whispers for help. And, nobody could hear
Spider's cries from deep inside the tree. They were too far into the bush where people rarely ever go.
Finally, the little girl looked up at Spider with a clever grin. "Good bye, Spider, I am going to get some huge
oranges for my family. If you want to eat some, just follow me there." She waved to him as she left to go down
the trail.
by Phillip Martin
© 1990
"My eggs!" cried Chicken. "One of my eggs is missing! Yesterday I had twelve eggs and today there are only
eleven."
As Chicken fled her nest to find Rooster, she had no idea that she was about to lose more eggs. Just out of view
of the nest, the thief patiently waited for Chicken to leave her eggs again. Black Snake crept slowly and quietly
up to the nest. He eyed the eggs and quickly swallowed one.
Black Snake smiled to himself. His plan had been so simple and had worked so well. He swallowed another
egg. It slid far down his long throat before his muscles crushed the fragile shell. "I'll be back later for another
delicious egg, Chicken," hissed Black Snake as he slithered away. "Thank you for another fine meal."
Meanwhile, the frantic chicken lead Rooster back to her nest. "Why would someone take one of my eggs?" she
clucked.
"Are you sure you counted correctly? Maybe you just thought you saw eleven eggs?" suggested Rooster.
From the expression on Chicken's face, Rooster knew he shouldn't have asked that question. She glared at him
and said, "You know I can count. See for yourself. How many eggs are in my nest?"
"One, two, three," began Rooster. He frowned and stopped counting out loud.
"What's the matter now?" questioned Chicken. "Are you afraid to admit you're wrong?"
"No, it's nothing like that at all," responded Rooster. "Something is very wrong here. There are only nine eggs."
"What? Nine Eggs!" cried Chicken. "What is happening? Who would do this to me?"
The next few days were just terrible for Chicken. She worried constantly about her remaining eggs. She tried to
stay with her eggs at all times but it wasn't possible to always be with them. Sometimes she had to leave to get
food or take care of her other chicks. No matter why she left, the same thing always happened. One or two eggs
disappeared each time.
"Someone is watching me very closely," cried the chicken. "He knows exactly where I am at each moment of
the day. I only have three remaining eggs."
"Although I cannot prove anything," comforted Rooster, "I think it must be Black Snake who is stealing your
eggs. He's patient enough to watch you a long time, and we all know how he loves to eat eggs."
Just the thought of Black Snake eating her eggs made Chicken shudder. She had heard stories of how he
swallowed eggs and then crushed them further down his long slender neck. She knew Rooster was probably
correct.
"I must hurry back to my nest," declared Chicken, realizing how long she had talked to Rooster. She rushed to
her eggs, but it was too late. Two more eggs had vanished. "Rooster!" she cried. "Come help me. I only have
one egg left."
Rooster came quickly. "You know, it is very likely that Black Snake will steal your last egg tomorrow," he
warned. "Unless we are able to trap him, this will only continue every time you have eggs."
"Yes, it's true," cried Chicken, "but what can we do? How can we possibly stop Black Snake?"
"I have a plan," whispered Rooster. "I think we will not be bothered by him much longer."
The next morning, Chicken continued guarding her last egg as if everything were normal. From a distance,
Black Snake didn't realize that a deadly trap had been set for him.
Chicken left her nest for only the shortest moment when Black Snake slithered out of hiding. In no time at all,
he swallowed the final egg. It slid down his throat easily. But, when his muscles squeezed the egg, it did not
break. It only became firmly lodged in his throat cutting off his air supply.
Black Snake twisted and turned trying to crush the egg or loosen it so he could breathe. By the time Chicken
returned with Rooster, the struggle was over. Black Snake would steal no more eggs. He was dead.
"I'm sure he died never knowing why that egg didn't crush," crowed Rooster.
"How could he have known," clucked Chicken, "that the egg was hard boiled?"
A Fable from Ancient Kush
The Lion's Whisker
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a young husband and wife in a small village in Africa. For some
time now, the husband had not been happy with his marriage. He began to come home late from working in the
fields. His wife thought he was the most wonderful man. But she was unhappy, too. His behavior was making
her miserable.
Finally, she went to the oldest man in her village, the village elder. The elder was sad to hear her marriage was
not a happy one. He had married them only two years before. At the time, he was sure that the marriage would
be a good one.
"Of course I will end your marriage if that is what you want," he told the young wife, after listening patiently
for a while. "You will be free to marry again. But is that really what you want?"
"I want my husband to be loving," she said. "I want to be loving. We are both miserable."
"I think I can help you," the elder said slowly. "I can prepare a secret potion that will change your husband into
a loving man."
"Prepare this magic potion at once!" the young wife cried out excitedly.
"I could make it," he said sadly. "But I am missing an important ingredient. I am too old to get this ingredient
for you. You must bring it to me."
"What do you need?" the young wife asked eagerly. "I'll bring it today."
"I need a single whisker taken from a living lion to make the potion work."
Her eyes widened in alarm. She bit her bottom lip. She straightened her shoulders. "I'll get it for you," she
nodded.
The next morning, the young wife carried a huge piece of raw meat down to the river where lions sometimes
came to drink. She hid behind a tree and waited. After waiting many hours, a lion ambled down to the river to
have a drink. He sniffed at the raw meat. In three bites, the meat was gone. He raised his mighty head. He knew
she there. The young wife held her breath. The mighty lion moved slowly back into the forest and disappeared.
The next day, the young wife came again. This time, the lion appeared quite quickly. This continued for many
days. Days became weeks. Each day, the woman crept from her hiding place behind the tree, moving closer and
closer to the lion.
At the end of four weeks, she moved quietly next to the lion and sat silently while he ate. Her hand shaking, she
reached slowly out and pulled a whisker from his chin. Holding her prize firmly in one hand, she sat frozen until
the lion had disappeared back into the forest.
She ran to the elder, waving her whisker. "I have it," she shouted. "I have it!"
The elder was in awe when he heard her story. "You do not need magic to change your husband back into the
loving man he once was. You are brave enough to pull a whisker from the chin of a living lion. It took
cleverness and bravery to do what you have done. Can you not use that same patience and courage and wit with
your husband?
"But the potion," the young wife said eagerly. "Would not that work as well?"
"Perhaps," the elder told her. "But it would not last. Trust me, my child. Show your husband each day that you
love him. Share his problems. Make him feel welcome. Make him feel wanted and needed. Give him time to
change and see what happens."
The young wife went home and followed the elder's advice. Slowly, her husband began to return from the fields
with the other men of the village. He began to look glad to see her. Within a year, their life was a happy one.
Why Anansi Has Eight Thin Legs
Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a spider named Anansi. Anansi's wife was a very good cook. But always,
Anansi loved to taste the food that others in the village made for themselves and for their families.
One day, he stopped by Rabbit's house. Rabbit was his good friend.
"There are greens in your pot," cried Anansi excitedly. Anansi loved greens.
"They are not quite done," said Rabbit. "But they will be soon. Stay and eat with me."
"I would love to, Rabbit, but I have some things to do," Anansi said hurriedly. If he waited at Rabbit's house, Rabbit
would certainly give him jobs to do. "I know," said Anansi. "I'll spin a web. I'll tie one end around my leg and one end to
your pot. When the greens are done, tug on the web, and I'll come running!"
Rabbit thought that was a great idea. And so it was done.
"I smell beans," Anansi sniffed excitedly as he ambled along. "Delicious beans, cooking in a pot."
"Come eat our beans with us," cried the monkeys. "They are almost done."
"I would love to Father Monkey," said Anansi. And again, Anansi suggested he spin a web, with one end tied around his
leg, and one end tied to the big bean pot.
Father Monkey thought that was a great idea. All his children thought so, too. And so it was done.
"I smell sweet potatoes," Anansi sniffed happily as he ambled along. "Sweet potatoes and honey, I do believe!"
"Anansi," called his friend Hog. "My pot is full of sweet potatoes and honey! Come share my food with me."
"I would love to," said Anansi. And again, Anansi suggested he spin a web, with one end tied around his leg, and one end
tied to the sweet potato pot.
His friend Hog thought that was a great idea. And so it was done.
By the time Anansi arrived at the river, he had one web tied to each of his eight legs.
"This was a wonderful idea," Anansi told himself proudly. "I wonder whose pot will be ready first?"
Just then, Anansi felt a tug at his leg. "Ah," said Anansi. "That is the web string tied to Rabbit's greens." He felt another.
And another. Anansi was pulled three ways at once.
"Oh dear," said Anansi as he felt the fourth web string pull.
Just then, he felt the fifth web string tug. And the sixth. And the seventh. And the eighth. Anansi was pulled this way and
that way, as everyone pulled on the web strings at once. His legs were pulled thinner and thinner. Anansi rolled quickly
into the river. When all the webs had washed away, Anansi pulled himself painfully up on shore.
"Oh my, oh my," sighed Anansi. "Perhaps that was not such a good idea after all."
To this day, Anansi the Spider has eight very thin legs. And he never got any food that day at all.
Why The Crocodile has a Rough Back
A long, long time ago, long before you and I were born, Crocodile had a back as smooth and flat as Python. One day he
was sitting in the hot midday sun by the riverbank, enjoying a sleepy afternoon snooze.
Suddenly Rabbit came crashing through the grass and smacked right into Crocodile's side. He sat down and panted and
panted.
Crocodile slowly swung his huge head around and sleepily blinked at his unexpected visitor.
"Rabbit, why did you wake me, and why are you puffing and blowing so hard?"
My apologies, Crocodile, but Man sent Brother Dog to chase me down. I've been running all morning. I think Brother
Man intends to eat me."
Rabbit thought for a moment and asked nervously, "You're not hungry, are you?"
Crocodile smiled a toothy grin and said, "No, I've eaten today."
Rabbit relaxed. "Thank goodness, I've had enough trouble today."
Crocodile smiled an even toothier grin. "Nothing ever troubles me," he boasted.
Rabbit eyed him and asked, "Nothing?"
"No, nothing. In fact," he said, his tail swishing behind him, "I'd like to see Trouble try to bother me."
"Oh, Crocodile, you should be careful what you say. Trouble doesn't like to be talked to like that."
Crocodile laughed a toothy laugh and went back to his nap. Rabbit just shook his head and hopped on his way.
After a few hours, Crocodile began to think about what Rabbit had said and started to get angry. "What does Trouble care
what I say? Who does he think he is?"
He got angrier and angrier until he decided to go find Trouble and give him a piece of his mind.
He crashed through the tall, dry grass, looking about. "Trouble, where are you? Come out and show yourself!"
He was yelling so loudly with his big, toothy mouth that he startled Flamingo who was resting nearby.
Flamingo flew up into the air and in turn startled Monkey, who was enjoying his afternoon pipe high in a tree. Monkey
was always easily frightened and jumped away to hide.
The pipe, which he had accidentally dropped, fell down through the branches and landed right in the middle of the grass.
Crocodile was so busy thrashing about that he didn't even notice that Monkey's pipe had set the tall, dry grass ablaze. By
the time he smelled the smoke, he was completely surrounded by the hungry flames closing in faster and faster.
Crocodile panicked and plowed through the burning field, rushing for the safety of the river. By the time he splashed into
the cool, soothing waters the entire field was smoldering. Crocodile's back, once smooth and flat, was now burned and
gnarled like the rocky riverbank.
He floated along the water, watching the last bit of smoke rise into the sky, all the while grumbling and muttering to
himself.
And he's been that grumpy ever since.
Don't trouble Trouble until Trouble troubles you.
The Rabbit, Elephant, and Whale
One day Rabbit was taking a walk through the jungle and ran into Elephant, who was making a fine meal of the
treetops. "Hello, brother," said Rabbit. "Fine day, isn't it?" Elephant paused to look down at the tiny little
creature at his feet and snorted. "Leave me be, Rabbit. I don't have the time to waste on someone so small."
Rabbit was shocked to be talked to in such a manner. He wasn't sure what to do so he left quietly to go and
think about what had happened. As he walked along, he spied mighty Whale far out to sea and decided to ask
her what she thought about Elephant's rudeness. He cupped his tiny paws and yelled as loud as he could,
"Whaaaaale!! Come heeeeere!!"
Whale swam over to see who was calling her and looked about. After a few minutes she spied tiny little Rabbit
jumping up and down on a cliff. "Rabbit," Whale said impatiently, "Did you just call me over here?" "Of
course," said Rabbit. "Just who do you think you are? You are far too small and weak to have anything to say to
me." And at that she turned, flipped her huge tail, and set off back into the deep ocean. But just then Rabbit had
an idea.
He called out to her one more time, "Whale! You think that I am weak, but in fact, I am stronger than you! You
wouldn't be so quick to ignore me if I beat you at Tug-of-War." Whale looked at him for a moment before
falling into a fit of laughter. "Very well little one," said Whale. "Go get a rope and we will see who is stronger."
Rabbit ran off to gather up the strongest and thickest vine he could. When he found it, he went to Elephant and
said to the giant animal, "Elephant, you had no cause to treat me with such discourtesy this afternoon. I shall
have to prove to you that we are equals. Elephant looked down between chews and chuckled. "And how will
you do that, small one?" Rabbit stood up as high as he could, looked Elephant right in the eye and said, "By
beating you at a game of Tug-of-War." Elephant laughed so hard he nearly choked on his leaves, but agreed to
humor the tiny animal. He tied the vine around his huge, hefty waist, snickering the whole time.
Rabbit took the other end and started off into the jungle. He called back to Elephant, "Wait until I say 'pull' and
then pull with all of your might." Rabbit took the other end of the rope to Whale and said, "Tie this to your tail
and when I say `pull' you swim with all of your might." Whale tied the vine to her tail, all the while smirking at
Rabbit's foolishness.
"I will now go and tie the other end to my own waist," said Rabbit, and hopped off into the jungle. Rabbit hid in
the bushes and then called out, at the top of his lungs, "PULL!!" Elephant started to walk away with a smile on
his face, but the smile soon turned to a look of surprise when the vine stopped following him. "My goodness,"
he said to himself, "Rabbit is much stronger than I expected!" The look of surprise soon became a frown as
Elephant pulled harder and harder, unable to make the tough vine budge any further.
Meanwhile, Whale began to swim away from the shore, but almost lost her breath when the vine pulled tight
and refused to come with her. She pulled harder and harder, but she could not pull it any further. "That little
Rabbit could not possibly be stronger than me," she said in outrage. Soon the vine could take no more strain
and, with an ear-splitting sound, snapped into two pieces.
When this happened, poor Elephant went sailing through the jungle and tumbled head over heels down a steep
valley. The end that was tied to Whale caught up to her suddenly and she went sailing through the ocean and
smashed into a very scratchy and very uncomfortable coral reef.
Rabbit left without a word and never mentioned the matter again. Elephant and Whale were completely
confused and never did figure out how such a tiny creature as Rabbit could have beaten the largest of the
animals. And to this day, they are very careful to greet little Rabbit with great respect whenever they meet.
Why The Cheetah's Cheeks Are Stained (A Traditional Zulu Story)
"Kwasuka sukela...."
Long ago a wicked and lazy hunter was sitting under a tree. He was thinking that it was
too hot to be bothered with the arduous task of stalking prey through the bushes. Below
him in the clearing on the grassy veld there were fat springbok grazing. But this hunter
couldn't be bothered, so lazy was he! He gazed at the herd, wishing that he could have
the meat without the work, when suddenly he noticed a movement off to the left of the
buck. It was a female cheetah seeking food. Keeping downwind of the herd, she moved
closer and closer to them. She singled out a springbok who had foolishly wandered
away from the rest. Suddenly she gathered her long legs under her and sprang forward.
With great speed she came upon the springbok and brought it down. Startled, the rest
of the herd raced away as the cheetah quickly killed her prey.
The hunter watched as the cheetah dragged her prize to some shade on the edge of the
clearing. There three beautiful cheetah cubs were waiting there for her. The lazy hunter
was filled with envy for the cubs and wished that he could have such a good hunter
provide for him. Imagine dining on delicious meat every day without having to do the
actual hunting! Then he had a wicked idea. He decided that he would steal one of the
cheetah cubs and train it to hunt for him. He decided to wait until the mother cheetah
went to the waterhole late in the afternoon to make his move. He smiled to himself.
When the sun began to set, the cheetah left her cubs concealed in a bush and set off to
the waterhole. Quickly the hunter grabbed his spear and trotted down to the bushes
where the cubs were hidden. There he found the three cubs, still to young to be
frightened of him or to run away. He first chose one, then decided upon another, and
then changed his mind again. Finally he stole them all, thinking to himself that three
cheetahs would undoubtedly be better than one.
When their mother returned half-an-hour later and found her babies gone, she was
broken-hearted. The poor mother cheetah cried and cried until her tears made dark
stains down her cheeks. She wept all night and into the next day. She cried so loudly
that she was heard by an old man who came to see what the noise was all about.
Now this old man was wise and knew the ways of the animals. When he discovered
what the wicked hunter had done, he became very angry. The lazy hunter was not only
a thief, he had broken the traditions of the tribe. Everyone knew that a hunter must use
only his own strength and skill. Any other way of hunting was surely a dishonour.
The old man returned to the village and told the elders what has happened. The
villagers became angry. They found the lazy hunter and drove him away from the
village. The old man took the three cheetah cubs back to their grateful mother. But the
long weeping of the mother cheetah stained her face forever. Today the cheetah wears
the tearstains on its face as a reminder to the hunters that it is not honourable to hunt in
any other way than that which is traditional.
Where Stories Come From (A Traditional Zulu Story)
Once, a very long time ago, so long ago that it must have been close to the time when the First
Man and the First Woman walked upon the earth, there lived a woman named Manzandaba
(mah-nzah-ndah'-bah) and her husband Zenzele (zay-nzay'-lay).
They lived in a traditional home in a small traditional village. They had many children, and for
the most part, they were very happy. They would spend the day working, weaving baskets,
tanning hides, hunting and tilling the earth near their home. On occasion they would go down
to the great ocean and play under the sun in the sand, laughing at the funny crabs they would
see scuttling along there and rejoicing at the way in which the birds would dip and dive in the
sea breezes. Zenzele had the heart of an artist and loved to carve. He would fashion beautiful
birds out of old tree stumps. With his axe he could make the most wonderful impala and kudu
bucks from stone. Their homestead was filled with decorative works by Zenzele the carver.
But in the evenings when the family would sit around the fire before going to sleep they would
not be so happy. It was too dark for weaving or carving, and yet too early to go to sleep.
"Mama," the children would cry, "Sifuna izindaba!" (see-foo'-nah ezee-ndah'-bah) "We want
stories! Tell us some stories, Mama!" Manzandaba would think and think, trying to find a story
she could tell her children, but it was of no use. She and Zenzele had no stories to tell. They
sought the counsel of their neighbours, but none of them knew any stories. They listened to the
wind. Could the wind be trying to tell them a story? No, they heard nothing. There were no
stories, no dreams, no magical tales.
One day Zenzele told his wife that she must go in search of stories. He promised to look after
the home, to care for the children, to mend and wash and sweep and clean, if only she would
bring back stories for the people. Manzandaba agreed. She kissed her husband and children
good-bye and set off in search of stories.
The woman decided to ask every creature she passed if they had stories to share. The first
animal she met was Nogwaja (noh-gwah'jah) the hare. He was such a trickster! But she thought
she'd better ask him all the same. "Nogwaja, do you have any stories? My people are hungry
for tales!" "Stories?" shrieked Nogwaja. "Why, I have hundreds, thousands, no--millions of
them!"
"Oh, please, Nogwaja," begged Manzandaba, "give some to me that we might be happy!"
"Ummm...." Nogwaja said. "Uhhhh...well, I have no time for stories now. Can't you see that I
am terribly busy? Stories in the daytime, indeed!" And Nogwaja hopped quickly away. Silly
Nogwaja! He was lying! He didn't have any stories!
With a sigh Manzandaba continued on her way. The next one she came upon was mother
baboon with her babies. "Oh, Fene! (fay'-nay) " she called. "I see you are a mother also! My
children are crying for stories. Do you have any stories that I could bring back to them?"
"Stories?" laughed the baboon. "Do I look like I have time to tell stories? Hawu! With so much
work to do to keep my children fed and safe and warm, do you think I have time for stories? I
am glad that I do not have human children who cry for such silly things!"
Manzandaba continued on her way. She then saw an owl in a wild fig tree. "Oh, Khova (koh'vah)," she called, "please will you help me? I am looking for stories. Do you have any stories
you could give me to take back to my home?"
Well, the owl was most perturbed at having been woken from her sleep. "Who is making noise
in my ears?" she hooted. "What is this disruption? What do you want? Stories! You dare wake
me for stories? How rude!" And with that the owl flew off to another tree and perched much
higher, where she believed she would be left in peace. Soon she was sound asleep again. And
Manzandaba went sadly on her way.
Next she came upon an elephant. "Oh, kind Ndlovu (ndloh'-voo)," she asked, "do you know
where I might find some stories? My people are hungry for some tales, and we do not have
any!"
Now the elephant was a kind animal. He saw the look in the woman's eye and felt immediately
sorry for her. "Dear woman," he said, "I do not know of any stories. But I do know the eagle.
He is the king of the birds and flies much higher than all the rest. Don't you think that he might
know where you could find stories?"
"Ngiyabonga, Ndlovu!" she said. "Thank you very much!"
So Manzandaba began to search for Nkwazi (nkwah'-zee) the great fish eagle. She found him
near the mouth of the Tugela River. Excitedly she ran toward him. She called out to him as he
was swooping down from the sky, talons outstretched to grab a fish from the river. "Nkwazi!
Nkwazi!" she called. She so startled the eagle that he dropped the fish that had been his. He
circled around and landed on the shore near the woman.
"Hawu!" he barked at her. "What is so important that you cause me to lose my supper?"
"Oh, great and wise Nkwazi," began Manzandaba. (Now fish eagle is very vain. He liked
hearing this woman refer to him and great and wise. He puffed out his feathers as she spoke.)
"Nkwazi, my people are hungry for stories. I have been searching a long time now for tales to
bring back to them. Do you know where I might find such tales?" She gave him a great look of
desperation.
"Well," he said, "even though I am quite wise, I do not know everything. I only know of the
things that are here on the face of the earth. But there is one who knows even the secrets of the
deep, dark ocean. Perhaps he could help you. I will try and call him for you. Stay here and wait
for me!" So Manzandaba waited several days for her friend the fish eagle to return. Finally he
came back to her. "Sawubona, nkosikazi!" he called. "I have returned, and I am successful! My
friend, ufudu lwasolwandle, the big sea turtle, has agreed to take you to a place where you can
find stories!" And with that the great sea turtle lifted himself out of the ocean.
"Woza, nkosikazi," said the sea turtle in his deep voice. "Climb onto my back and hold onto
my shell. I will carry you to the Land of the Spirit People." So the woman took hold of his
shell and down they went into the depths of the sea. The woman was quite amazed. She had
never seen such beautiful things before in her life. Finally they came to the bottom of the ocean
where the Spirit People dwell. The sea turtle took her straight to the thrones of the King and
Queen. They were so regal! Manzandaba was a bit afraid at first to look at them. She bowed
down before them.
"What do you wish of us, woman from the dry lands?" they asked.
So Manzandaba told them of her desire to bring stories to her people.
"Do you have stories that I could take to them?" she asked rather shyly.
"Yes," they said, "we have many stories. But what will you give us in exchange for those
stories, Manzandaba?"
"What do you desire?" Manzandaba asked.
"What we would really like," they said, "is a picture of your home and your people. We can
never go to the dry lands, but it would be so nice to see that place. can you bring us a picture,
Manzandaba?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered. "I can do that! Thank you, thank you!"
So Manzandaba climbed back onto the turtle's shell, and he took her back to the shore. She
thanked him profusely and asked him to return with the next round moon to collect her and the
picture.
The woman told her family all of the things she had seen and experienced on her journey.
When she finally got to the end of the tale her husband cried out with delight. "I can do that! I
can carve a beautiful picture in wood for the Spirit People in exchange for their stories!" And
he set to work straight away.
Manzandaba was so proud of her husband and the deftness of his fingers. She watched him as
the picture he carved came to life. There were the members of their family, their home and
their village. Soon others in the community heard about Manzandaba's journey and the
promised stories and came also to watch Zenzele's creation take shape. When the next round
moon showed her face Zenzele was ready. He carefully tied the picture to Manzandaba's back.
She climbed on the turtle's back and away they went to the Spirit Kingdom. When they saw the
picture the King and Queen of the Spirit people were so happy! They praised Zenzele's talent
and gave Manzandaba a special necklace made of the finest shells for her husband in thanks.
And then they turned to Manzandaba herself. "For you and your people," they said, "we give
the gift of stories." And they handed her the largest and most beautiful shell she had ever seen.
"Whenever you want a story," they said, "just hold this shell to your ear and you will have your
tale!" Manzandaba thanked them for their extreme kindness and headed back to her own
world.
When she arrived at the shore, there to meet her was her own family and all the people of her
village. They sat around a huge fire and called out, "Tell us a story, Manzandaba! Tell us a
story!"
So she sat down, put the shell to her ear, and began, "Kwesuka sukela...."
And that is how stories came to be!
Jabu and the Lion (A Traditional Zulu Story)
"Kwasuka sukela..."
There was a young herdboy named Jabu (jah'-boo). He took great pride in the way in
which he cared for his father's cattle. And his father had many cows - over 25! It was
quite a task to keep these silly creatures out of trouble, away from the farmers mealies
(corn) and out of the dangerous roads. Jabu had some friends who also kept their
fathers' cattle, but none of them had even half the herd Jabu did! And none of them
were as careful as Jabu. It was a sign of Jabu's father's pride in his boy that he entrusted
such a large herd to such a young boy.
One day as he sat atop a small koppie (hill) watching the animals feed and braiding
long thin strips of grass into bangles for his sisters, Jabu's friend Sipho (see'-poh) came
running to him. "Have you heard the news, my friend?" panted Sipho. Before Jabu
could even answer, Sipho rushed on to tell him. "Bhubesi, the lion, has been seen in
these parts. Last night Bhubesi attacked and killed one of Thabo's (tah'-boh) father's
cows. The men of the village are already setting traps for the beast!"
Jabu wasn't surprised by this news. His keen eyes had seen the spoor of the lion -- his
left-over kill, his prints here-and-there in the soft earth, his dung. Jabu had respect for
the king of the beasts. And since Bhubesi's pattern was to hunt at night when the cattle
was safely within the kraal (/krawl/ "corral"), Jabu had seen no reason to alert the
village of Bhubesi's presence. But the killing of a cow! "I wonder," thought Jabu to
himself, "if the cow was not left out of the kraal?" Thabo was known to be a sloppy
herdboy, a fellow who ran with his head in the clouds. He had been known to forget a
cow or two before.
"Woza, Ngane!" (woh'-zah ngah'-nay "Come, friend!") Sipho urged, "come and put
your cows away for the day and watch with me as the men set the traps!" Jabu slowly
shook his head as he looked at Sipho and smiled. "You know me, friend," he returned
Sipho's address. "I cannot put the cattle back into the kraal so early in the day! They
need to be driven to the river before they go home."
Sipho smiled. "Yes, I thought you would say this. But I wanted to tell you anyway. I
will see you later, friend, perhaps by the fire tonight!" And Sipho ran toward the
village with a final wave to Jabu.
Jabu began to gather the cows together. He waved his intonga (ee-ntah'-gah "staff")
and gave a loud whistle. Each cow looked up, then after a moment's pause, slowly
started to trudge toward Jabu. With a grin Jabu began to take them to water.
Jabu bathed his feet in the cool refreshing river as the cows drank their fill. It was a
fine sunny Autumn day, and if his mind had not been so busy thinking about the lion
and the traps the men were setting, Jabu would probably be shaping the soft river clay
into small cow figurines for his young brother. Then Jabu heard a sound that stole his
breath from him. "Rrrrroar!" came the bellow. The cows all froze, a wild look coming
into their eyes. "Rrrroarrrrrrr...." It was Bhubesi, and he was near! There was no time
to drive the animals home; the lion was much too close. Jabu slowly rose, looking
carefully around, his hand clenched on his staff. He walked purposefully, trying not to
show the fear that made his knees tremble, pulling the cattle together into a tight circle.
The cows trusted him and they obeyed. "Rrrrroarr...oarr..oarr...aaa!" Jabu listened.
Bhubesi was not declaring his majesty or might....it sounded more like a cry for help.
Several more bellows and Jabu knew, Bhubesi was in trouble. Somehow this took most
of the boy's fear from him. Gripping his staff, Jabu quietly began to walk toward the
lion's cry.
Yes, indeed, the lion was in trouble. Jabu found him in a small clearing several metres
across the river. He was caught in on of the traps laid by the men of the village. His
head was firmly wedged in the barred structure, and the more he struggled, the tighter
the snare became. Jabu stood and stared. Never before had he seen the king of the
animals so near. He truly was a majestic animal. And a large part of his heart was sore
for the creature. Then the lion saw the boy. "Hawu! Mfana! (hah'woo mfah'nah "Oh!
Boy!") It is good that you are here. Please, help me. I am caught in this stupid trap and
I cannot free myself. Please, please, will you come and pull up on the bar that is
holding my head here. Please!"
Jabu looked into Bhubesi's eyes. He could not read them, but he could hear the
desperation in the animal's voice. "Please, Mfana! Please! Before those hunters come
and kill me. Please release me!"
Jabu had a tender heart, but he was no fool. "I would very much like to free you,
Bhubesi! But I am afraid that as soon as I did so you would make me your dinner."
"Oh, no, Ngane wami! (ngah'nee wah'me "My friend") I could never eat someone who
set me free! I promise, I really promise with full sincerity, that I will not touch a hair
on your head!"
Well, the lion begged and pleaded so pitifully that Jabu finally decided to trust him and
set him free. Gingerly he stepped over to the trap and raised the bar that held the lion's
head. With a mighty bound the lion leapt free of the trap and shook his mane. "Oh,
thank you, Mfana! I really owe you something. My neck was getting so stiff in there,
and I fear it would have been parted from by body by the hunters if you hadn't come
along. Now, please, if you don't mind, Mfana, one last thing.... I have become so
thirsty from being in that thing, I would really like a drink of water. Can you show me
where the river is? I seem to have become confused with my directions."
Jabu agreed, keeping a wary eye on the lion, and led the lion upstream from where he
had come, away from his father's cows, since Bhubesi had made no promise about not
eating them! As lion drank he watched Jabu with one eye. He was thinking to himself,
"Hmmm....nice looking legs on that boy! Hmmm....and those arms are good looking
too! Pity to waste such an excellent meal!" When the lion raised his head from the
river, both eyes were on Jabu, and this time the boy could see what was reflected there.
Jabu began to back up.
"You promised, Bhubesi," Jabu began. "I saved you from the hunters, and you
promised not to eat me!"
"Yes," said Bhubesi, slowly walking toward the retreating boy. "You are right, I did
make that promise. But somehow now that I am free it does not seem so important to
keep that promise. And I am awfully hungry!"
"You are making a big mistake," said Jabu. "Don't you know that if you break your
promises that the pieces of the broken promises will come back to pierce you?"
The lion stopped and laughed. "Hah! What nonsense! How can such a flimsy thing
pierce me? I am more determined than ever to eat you now, boy," and he started
stalking Jabu once more, "and all this talk is just serving to make me hungrier!"
Just then an old donkey happened across their path. "Ask the donkey," said Jabu to the
lion. "Ask him and he will tell you how bad it is to break a promise."
"He, wena! (hay, way'nah "alright, you!") You are certainly dragging this thing out! So
I will ask the donkey." The lion turned to the old creature. "I want to eat this boy," he
addressed the donkey. "Isn't that okay?"
Jabu broke in, "But he promised to let me go after I freed him from the snare," Jabu
added.
The donkey slowly looked at the lion and then at Jabu. "I say," the donkey started,
"that all my life these stupid humans have beat me and forced me to carry things. Now
that I am old they turn me out and leave me to waste away all alone. I do not like
humans." He turned back to the lion. "Eat the boy!" and the donkey moved on.
"Well, that settles that," said the lion as he began to approach the boy once more. Just
then Mpungushe the jackal stepped between the two.
"Oh, terribly sorry," he said, "to have disturbed you. I'll be on my way..."
"No!" shouted Jabu. "Wait and tell the lion how bad it is to break a promise."
"A promise?" asked the jackal. "Well, I suppose it depends upon the promise, doesn't
it? Why? Did one of you make a promise?"
Lion sat down and rolled his eyes up toward the heavens.
"Yes," Jabu said. And he told Jackal how he had freed the lion from the trap, and how
Lion had promised not to eat him, and how now Lion was intent upon doing that very
thing!
"Oh, what a silly story!" said Jackal. "My nkosi, the great king of all the animals, stuck
in a little trap made by humans? Impossible! I don't believe it."
"It is true," said Bhubesi. "It is a strong and terrible trap!"
"Oh, I can't believe anything is stronger than my king. I must see this thing! Please,
will you take the courtesy before your dinner to show me this trap that you are
speaking about. Please! Then you can eat your meal in peace!"
So the lion, keeping Jabu in front of himself, led Jackal to the trap. "But you can't tell
me that this little thing could actually hold your head! Never! I just can't imagine it.
Nkosi, would you mind just sticking your head there so I can see how you looked
when the boy found you?"
"Hawu. You are taxing me with your questions. This last thing I will do for you and
then you must be on your way and leave me to my dinner in peace." So Lion stuck his
head back between the bars just the way he had been when Jabu had found him. Then,
quicker that lightning, Jackal threw the top bar in place. Lion was caught fast once
again!
"Yes," said Jackal, " now I see how you were trapped. What a pity that you are so
trapped once more. But the boy is right, Nkosi. Broken promises always catch up with
you!"
Lion roared in anger, but the sound trap held him well. Jabu thanked the jackal and ran
back to his cows, who were all patiently waiting for their shepherd's return.
Jabu drove them home and into the kraal. What a day he had had! "Jabu, Jabu," Sipho
came running from behind Jabu. "The lion has been caught in the trap near the river!
You and your cows missed all the adventure!"
Jabu turned and smiled at his friend. "We have had all the adventure we need for one
day," he said. And as Sipho headed back to the hunters to hear the story once again of
the mighty lion caught in the trap, Jabu greeted his mother in the cooking house and sat
down with a sigh.
Clever Jackal Gets Away (A Traditional Zulu Story)
"Hawu, hawu, hawu, my children," Gogo began one evening. "You know, cleverness is a very
important thing to own! Why, cleverness has helped Nogwaja out of the cooking pot more than
once!"
"The Jackal is also a clever animal, isn't he, Gogo?" asked little Sipho (see' poh), who was
quite proud that his nickname was Mpungushe (mpoo-ngoo'-shay = "jackal"). Gogo, in fact,
had given him that name because of the loud howl he had made as a baby. Sipho liked to think
it was because he was quick and agile as the Jackal.
Gogo laughed and looked at the child at her feet. "Yes, my boy! You are right! Jackal is a very
clever animal. Sometimes too clever for his own good!"
"I remember how he helped Jabu the herdboy by tricking Bhubesi back into the snare. Tell us
another tale about Jackal, Gogo!" begged Sipho.
"Yes, Gogo," her other grandchildren chorused. "Please tell us...."
"Alright, my children. But listen and learn!" Gogo settled her round self down more
comfortably upon the tree stump. "Kwasuka sukela . . ."
One day long ago, Jackal was trotting through a narrow, rocky pass. As he often did, he kept
his nose to the ground as he ambled along, to catch the odd scent. "Never know when I'll
happen upon my next meal, " he thought to himself, although it was highly unlikely that he
would find a rat out in the midday heat. But perhaps he could catch a lizard or two.
Suddenly he was aware of a movement ahead of him in the pass. "Oh, no!" Jackal moaned and
stopped dead-still in his tracks. Lion was coming toward him. Realising that he was too near to
escape, Jackal was filled with fear. He had played so many tricks on the great Bhubesi in the
past, he was sure that lion would take this opportunity to get his revenge. In a flash Jackal
thought of a plan.
"Help! Help!" cried Jackal. He cowered down on the cliff path, looking above at the rocks.
Lion stopped short in surprise.
"Help!" Jackal howled, using the fear he felt in the middle of his chest to accentuate his cry.
Jackal glanced up at Bhubesi. "Oh, great Nkosi! Help! There is no time to lose! See those great
rocks above us? They are about to fall! We shall both be crushed to death!!!! Oh, mighty Lion,
do something! Save us!" And Jackal cowered even lower, his paws covering his head.
Lion looked up, most alarmed. Before he even had a chance to think, Jackal was begging him
to use his strength to hold up the overhanging rock. So Lion put his brawny shoulder to the
rock and heaved.
"Oh, thank you, great King!" yelped Jackal. "I will quickly fetch that log over there to prop
under the rock, and we will both be saved!" With that Jackal bounded out of sight.
Lion was left all alone to struggle under the weight of the unmoving rock. How long he
remained there before he realised that it was another trick, we will never know. But this much
we do know: Jackal continued to live by his wits!
The Curse of the Chameleon (A Traditional Zulu Story)
Gogo breathed deeply of the cool evening air. She paused beneath the darkening sky, hands
pressed into her back.
"Woza, Gogo!" called little Methembe, who, although he seemed to have unlimited energy,
always waited for his granny. "Come on!" he encouraged as he turned and dashed up the final
rise toward the homestead. Gogo chuckled, shook her head slowly and forced her feet to
continue up the path. "Hawu!" she thought to herself. Soon she would no longer be able to
make it down to the river and back. By the time Gogo came within sight of the evening fire,
the children had put away the washed clothing and deposited the firewood where it was stored.
They were now squatting in a tight circle, the older ones rocking on their heels, waiting for
their elders to finish eating that they might then have their dinner.
After everyone had eaten and the pots were filled with water to soak, Gogo and the children
settled down before the fire. "Gogo," asked Methembe rather tentatively, choosing to look into
the fire rather than at his beloved granny, "why do people grow old and die?" The old woman
looked lovingly at her grandson and smiled. She knew his unspoken fears.
"Ahh, my little Hope," she answered, looking into the fire herself. "That is a very interesting
tale! Shall I tell you, my children, the story of why people must grow old and die?"
"Yebo, Gogo! Yes!" they all answered as if one.
"Alright then..." And Gogo began. "Kwasuka sukela...."
After God the great Creator finished making all things, he sat back and took a long look at the
world he'd made. He smiled and decided that it was very good. He was especially pleased with
the people, the first man and woman. They, after all, were the most like himself. "Yes," he
thought, "this is good! Very good!"
But as time went on the Creator noticed that man and woman kept injuring their bodies. Oh,
the skin would heal with time, but it always left scars. And after many years the first man and
woman's bodies were looking old and tatty indeed! "Hmmm," thought Creator, "these bodies
are wearing out! Time, I think, for new ones!"
So Creator called Chameleon to himself. "Listen, Chameleon," said Creator, "I have a package
that I want you to deliver to man and woman. It is most urgent, so do not delay. Go straight to
the people, tell them I sent you, and give them this parcel from me!" With that he pushed a
small package into Chameleon's hands. "I trust you, Chameleon, for you are loyal and swift.
Go now!"
So Chameleon set off to do as his Lord bid. In those days Chameleon was fast as lightning. He
sped toward Earth, the parcel neatly tucked beneath his arm. When he reached the great river
he paused to take a drink. And this proved to be his undoing!
Snake just happened to be drinking at the same time. "Hello, Cousin Chameleon," he hissed.
"My, you are in a great hurry today! What are you about?"
Chameleon looked up. "Ah, yebo! Sawubona, Nyoka!" he politely replied. (sah-woo-boh'-nah
nyoh'kah = "Yes, I see you, Snake!" or "Hello, Snake!") "I have a package to deliver for
Creator. Something for the people."
Now Snake hated the people. They walked so far above the ground, often treading on Snake
and his family members without even noticing. And Creator seemed to pay so much more
attention to them than he did to the other animals. Snake was bitterly jealous of people, and
when he heard that Chameleon was taking a gift to them from Creator, Snake began to scheme.
How could he make sure that people did not receive this gift?
"Oh, dear Cousin Chameleon," Snake hissed, edging closer to Chameleon and the parcel. "It is
so good to see you again! My family has missed you a great deal! All of our other relatives
come often to share a meal. But you never seem to have time for us! One would tend to think
that perhaps you thought yourself too good to associate with your close kin!"
Now Chameleon was a sensitive fellow. It worried him to think that Snake might have
something against him. "Oh, no, dear cousin Nyoka," pleaded Chameleon. "I assure you that I
hold you in high regard! I would be honoured to come for a meal sometime!"
"Well," Snake answered quickly, "why not now? My wife is at this very moment waiting lunch
for me. She would be pleased beyond words to see you dine with us!"
"Oh, dear!" answered Chameleon, looking at the parcel still tucked beneath his arm. "I really
have an urgent errand for Creator at the moment. Ummmm....perhaps some other time?"
"Yes, yes," hissed Snake turning away with a hint of disgust in his voice. "Just as I thought.
Too good for the likes of us! Well, run along then with your all-important business."
Chameleon looked at the sun. It was still high in the sky. He could have the mid-day meal with
Snake's family and have plenty of time left to deliver the package. Perhaps he was being too
hasty. "Wait, Snake," Chameleon spoke quickly. "I was being too abrupt. I beg your pardon. I
really would love to have a meal with you. To prove it I will dine with you now and do my
business after the meal!"
Snake smiled to himself before he turned back toward Chameleon. "Oh, Chameleon," Snake
replied, sounding quite humble indeed, "Thank you! It is we who will be honoured by your
presence, I assure you!" And with that he led Chameleon off to his burrow.
Snake's wife had really outdone herself, as usual. She'd prepared a huge and sumptuous meal
and truly was delighted to see that Chameleon had come to share it with them. She encouraged
him to have more and more, and as it was so delicious, Chameleon helped himself until he was
almost too full to move. He was having such a good time, and was especially enjoying Snake's
outstanding utshwala (oo-chwah'-lah = a traditional Zulu beer brewed from sorghum), that he
forgot all about his special mission. Snake smiled slyly as he watched Chameleon's head nod
and his eyelids droop. Snake laughed aloud as Chameleon fell asleep with a satisfied little
grunt.
"What is so funny, my husband?" asked Snake's wife, accustomed to the ways of nature to rest
after the mid-day meal in the hottest hours of the day. She saw nothing strange or funny about
Chameleon's behaviour. It was actually a compliment to her as a hostess, that she had made her
guest so comfortable and welcome.
"Look here," Snake hissed, as he gently lifted the package from under Chameleon's arm.
"What is that?" she asked.
"A gift for us from Creator," Snake laughed. And with that Snake tore open the parcel. "Look,
my good wife," he exclaimed, lifting something from the box. "Creator has sent us new skins!
New skins, so that whenever our old ones wear out we can change into new ones!" Snake
laughed again, louder this time, waking his guest. Chameleon took one look at the parcel and
immediately knew what had happened.
"No, Snake!" Chameleon pleaded, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Those are not
for you! They are for people. You know that! Give them back!" Chameleon stretched out his
hands toward the skins. "Please, Nyoka! Give them back!"
But Snake just laughed, holding the skins beyond Chameleon's reach. "No, my cousin. These
are my skins now!" And with that Snake slithered away.
As the sun went down Chameleon was sick with sadness for the way in which he'd been
betrayed and for the way in which he had disobeyed. He hid away from Creator in the braces
of the trees, clinging to the limbs, moving slowly so as not to be detected. He was too afraid to
face Creator.
"And so, you see, my children," finished Gogo, "how it was that people were cheated out of
new skins by Snake. To this day snake will shed his old skin and don a new one whenever he
is feeling his age."
"But that's not fair, Gogo!" cried Methembe. "Creator should make Snake return the skins!"
"Ah, well, my boy," Gogo looked at him and placed a hand on his head, "Life is not always
fair. But while Snake got the skins, Creator did not stop the people from standing on Snake
from time-to-time. In fact, when most people encounter Snake these days they give him what
they think he deserves: a sound thrashing! And, of course, Chameleon is still hiding away in
the trees, moving so slowly that he usually goes undetected. And as for people, well, Creator
gave them another gift that was better than new skins!"
"What was that, Gogo?" the children asked
"Oh, my children," Gogo replied with a smile, "That is a story for another time! Now my
weary old bones tell me that it is time for a good night's rest!"
And with a great heave Gogo lifted herself from her stump by the fire and walked slowly
toward her hut.
"Lalani kahle, bantwana!" (lah-lah'-nee kah'-hlay bah-ntwah'-nah = "Sleep well, children!")
Honeyguide's Revenge (A Traditional Zulu Story)
The children sat before the fire slowly licking their fingers for the last of the sticky sweetness.
"Ah, Sibonelo!" Gogo smiled. "You are a good one for finding a ripe hive! We shall have
honey at least until the new moon!"
Sibonelo grinned back at his granny. "It was easy, Gogo! I just followed the Honeyguide."
Gogo looked at him thoughtfully. "I hoped you remembered to leave the little bird his
portion!"
"Oh, yes, Gogo! I would never think of cheating Ngede out of his share!" Sibonelo knew that
the Honeyguide would search for a human helper whenever he found a hive that was ready for
harvest. While Honeyguide did not care for the honey, he loved to eat the bee grubs and wax
from the nest. But poor Honeyguide was ill-equipped to get the food for himself. He therefore
relied upon a two-footed friend to pull down the nest. "I remember what happened to Gingile,
the greedy one, when he took all the honey for himself!"
"What happened to Gingile, Gogo?" asked some of the younger children who had not heard or
had forgotten the story. Now that their tummies were full, it was time to satisfy the soul.
"Alright, my children," laughed Gogo. "I think a story about little Ngede is appropriate after
feasting upon the honey he helped bring to our table!" She took a deep breath and began,
"Kwasuka sukela....."
There once was a greedy young man named Gingile. He rarely shared with anyone, preferring
to keep the meat from any of his kills to himself, hoarding every mealie pip (kernel of corn)
that grew in his small garden.
One day while Gingile was out hunting he heard the honey call of Ngede. Gingile's mouth
began to water at the thought of the sweet treat. He stopped and listened carefully, searching
until he found the little fellow among the branches above his head. "Chitik-chitik-chitik," the
little bird rattled, like the sound of a matchbox shaken lengthwise. When Ngede saw that he
had an interested partner he quickly began moving through the branches toward the nest.
"Chitik, chitik, chitik," he continued, stopping several times to be sure that Gingile followed.
After thirty minutes or so they reached a huge wild fig tree. Ngede hopped about madly among
the branches. He then settled on one branch and cocked his head, looking at Gingile as if to
say, "Here it is! Come now! What is taking you so long?" Gingile couldn't see anything from
his place on the forest floor, but he knew Honeyguide's reputation for finding big, ripe nests
flowing with sweet honey. Gingile deposited his hunting tools at the foot of the tree. He then
gathered some dry twigs and made a small fire. As soon as the flames were well established,
Gingile put a long dry stick into the heart of the fire. This wood was especially known to make
lots of smoke while it burned. As soon as he was sure it was properly burning, he began
climbing, the cool end of the branch clamped in his mouth.
Soon he could hear the loud buzzing of the busy bees. "Ah," he thought to himself, "I can
almost smell the sweetness in the air. How I love the taste of honey!" When he reached the
place of the hive he quickly thrust the burning, smoking end of the branch into the hollow. The
bees came rushing out, angry and mean. When most of them were out, Gingile pushed his
hands into the nest. He took out handfuls of the heavy comb, dripping with rich honey and full
of fat, white grubs. He ignored the few stings he received, placing the comb carefully in the
pouch he wore around his neck and chest. When the nest was empty, Gingile slowly made his
way back down the tree.
Ngede watched all of this activity with a great deal of anticipation. He fidgeted nervously,
waiting for the moment when Gingile would walk once again on the forest floor and leave, as
was the custom, a fat piece of honeycomb as a thank-offering to the Honeyguide. Ngede loved
the juicy larval bees and the waxy comb. He flittered from branch to branch, closer and closer
to the ground. Finally Gingile reached the forest floor. Ngede flew to a rocky perch near the
man and patiently waited for his share. But, Gingile put out the fire, picked up his tools and
started walking home, obviously ignoring the little bird. Ngede chirped indignantly. He flew
before Gingile and landed on a rock in front of the hunter. There he faced the man and crossly
called in a high-pitched voice, "VIC-torr! VIC-torrr!" Gingile stopped, stared at the little bird
and laughed aloud. "You want some of the spoils, do you, my friend? Ha! Who did all the
work and received all of the stings? Why should I share any of this lovely honey with you, you
little nothing? Be off and find yourself another supper!" And with a wave of his arm in
dismissal, Gingile set off for his homestead.
Ngede was furious! How dare this man break the long-time custom and refuse to show his
gratitude! But little Ngede was not powerless. He would get his satisfaction! Ngede waited and
watched the man for several moons before he sought his revenge.
One day several weeks later Gingile again heard the honey call of the Ngede. Remembering
how sweet and wonderful the last harvest had been, Gingile eagerly followed the little bird
once again. After making his way around the edge of the forest, Ngede suddenly stopped his
characteristic "Chitik-chitik-chitik," and came to rest in a great umbrella thorn. "Ahh," thought
Gingile. "The hive must be in this tree." He quickly made his small fire and began his ascent,
the smouldering branch in his teeth. Ngede sat and watched.
Gingile climbed, wondering why he didn't hear the usual buzzing. "Perhaps the nest is deep in
the tree," he thought to himself. He was concentrating so much on his climbing, and was
daydreaming about the sweet taste of honey, when he found himself face-to-face with a
leopard. Poor leopard was taking her usual mid-day nap in her favourite tree, exhausted after a
long night of hunting, when she was suddenly awakened by a scream. Leopard was first
startled and then angry at having her sleep so rudely interrupted. She narrowed her eyes,
opened her mouth to reveal her very large and very sharp teeth and took a quick swipe at the
man, raking her claws across his forehead. Gingile rushed down the tree, half-falling. He
landed with a heavy thud on the ground, breaking several of his bones. Lucky for him that
Leopard was still so tired, or she might have decided to pursue the man. Never-the-less Gingile
departed as fast as his broken bones would allow him. And he wore the scars of Leopard on his
forehead the rest of his life.
Ngede had his revenge, and Gingile never followed a Honeyguide again. But the children of
Gingile, and the children of the children of Gingile, heard the story of Ngede and had respect
for the little bird. Whenever they harvest honey, they are sure to leave the biggest part of the
comb with the juiciest grubs for Ngede!
Author's note: There are six different species of honeyguides in southern Africa. The Greater
Honeyguide actually does lead man to bees' nests, hence the family name. They are equipped
with a special bacteria in their gut that aid in digestion of bees' wax. Honeyguides do not build
their own nests, but rather are brood-parasitic, laying their eggs in hole-nesting birds' nests,
usually Barbet's nests. When the Honeyguide hatches it usually kills the host's offspring, and
the host bird raises the Honeyguide, unaware that it is not its own.
King of the Birds (A Traditional Zulu Story)
"Gogo?" Thobeka was the first to break the silence around the fire this night.
Gogo looked at the most inquisitive of her grandchildren with a broad smile.
"Yes, my dear one," she answered.
"Gogo, I know that the mighty Lion, Bhubesi, is king of all the animals. Is he King also of the
birds?"
"Ah, that is an interesting question, Thobeka." The children sensed a story coming and drew
even closer together. "You are right when you say that Lion is the king of all the animals. And
as for the birds, well, I will have to tell you about the time they decided to have a leader of
their own. . . Kwasuka sukela. . . ."
Some time after the Creator had finished making the beasts of the sea, land and sky, as He was
busy putting the finishing touch to His work by creating People, Nkwazi (nkwah'-zee), the
great Fish Eagle, called a meeting of all the birds. And they came, from the Flamingo to the
Weaver, from the Warbler to the Owl, they came.
"Ah-hem," Nkwazi began by clearing his throat. The chatter died down as everyone turned
their gaze on the magnificent eagle. "I have asked you all to be here for a very important
reason. As you all know, Lion, the great Bhubesi, is the king of all the beast of the land. But he
hardly dare speak for us, the great winged creatures of the air! It is my suggestion that we
chose from among our number a bird to be our sovereign leader!" A ripple of chattering began
again as the birds turned to one another to discuss the idea. "Ah-hem!" Nkwazi cleared his
throat once more. He waited until he had the attention of all present. "As I am the most
majestic and regal bird present, I suggest that I, Nkwazi, be the King of the birds!"
A great deal of mumbling began from all corners of the gathering. Then one voice rose above
the others, demanding attention.
"Yes, Nkwazi, you are indeed majestic." It was the giant Eagle Owl, Khova (koh'-vah)
speaking. "However I actually think that it is I who should be the King of the winged animals.
You see, I have the largest eyes of any of the birds. I can see everything that happens, and
therefore am very wise. It is wisdom we need in a leader more than stateliness."
Again a low murmur went through the crowd until a third voice demanded attention. "I
acknowledge Khova's wisdom and Nkwazi's regal bearing, however I would propose that I be
King of the birds." Kori Bustard, Ngqithi (ng*ee'-tee) walked to the centre of the circle as he
spoke. "I am the largest of all the winged kingdom. Certainly strength is an important factor in
leadership!"
All the birds began to speak at once. Some threw their support behind the Eagle, some believed
the Owl should be the King, while others liked the Kori Bustard. Finally after a long period of
arguing, a little voice was heard rising above the din.
"Excuse me. Excuse me, please!" It was Ncede (n~ay'-day), the tiny Neddicky (a small, quickmoving southern African warbler). He was so small and insignificant looking that he was
easily overlooked. Finally the crowd became silent and allowed the little bird his say. "If we
are going to elect a King of the birds, well, I think it should me !"
Everyone broke into laughter. Surely this miniature warbler was jesting! Ncede, King of the
birds! Unthinkable! Silly creature for even thinking it! What, the audacity of this little thing!
What arrogance! What impudence!
"And what reason would you give for having us elect you as our King?" asked Nkwazi staring
into Ncede's eyes.
"Well," began Ncede, "no real reason, besides to say that I should be given every bit as much
opportunity as anyone else!"
While they laughed at Ncede's suggestion, the assembly was impressed with the little fellow's
courage!
"What we need is a competition!" decided Nkwazi. "We will have a contest to see who is fit to
be our King!" Everyone seemed to like this idea. It was agreed that on the first day after the
full moon the birds would again gather. They would meet on the open veld when the sun was
high in the sky. And when the sun touched the tallest tip of the mountain, the birds would
become airborne. The one who could then fly the highest and touch the hand of God would
become the King.
On the appointed day the birds assembled. Patiently they watched the sun make her way down
from the sky. At the exact moment she touched the tallest peak of the mountain, the birds all
rose into the air. It was a magnificent sight to see.
Now, little Ncede was there. He was determined to prove that he had just as much right as
anyone else to the kingship. But he knew that his little wings could not lift him very far. He
had therefore made a special plan. Just before the birds took off, Ncede silently crept
underneath the wing of the mighty Fish Eagle. He carefully pushed his way deep down into the
raptor's largest feathers. Nkwazi was so busy concentrating on the descent of the sun, he didn't
feel a thing.
Higher and higher the birds soared. The little ones fell out of the race after a short time. Slowly
they drifted back down to earth to watch the others. Soon all but three of the birds had dropped
out of the competition. Eagle, Owl and Bustard fought to see who would claim the prize. They
were so tired, but they pushed on, higher and higher. The strain was too much for owl, and
with a resigned "Hoo-hoo" he dove back toward firm ground. Now it was Nkwazi and Ngqithi.
Up and up they went, closer and closer to the hand of God. But no matter how much he tried,
the feat was too much for the heavy Bustard. After a final pull with his mighty wings, he called
to Nkwazi. "Ah, my friend, it seems you are the winner. I can go no further."
That confession seemed to temporarily strengthen the almost spent Eagle; he gathered his last
bit of strength and climbed beyond the Bustard.
"Wheeeee-whee-whee!" The victorious sound of Nkwazi's call filled the sky.
"Not so fast, Nkwazi!" chirped Ncede, and he shot out from under one of the mighty bird's
feathers. "You have not won yet!" And with that Ncede rose above Nkwazi to touch the hand
of God. No matter how hard he tried, Nkwezi just didn't have the strength left to climb any
farther. With a groan he allowed himself to begin gliding down to earth.
Now, all the birds below had watched this and were angered by Ncede's trickery. As Ncede
returned to the soil he did not find the kingly welcome he expected. Instead every bird in the
kingdom was ready to pluck the feathers from little Ncede's back. But the quick little bird saw
their anger and quickly flew into a deserted snake hole.
"Come out, Ncede!" snapped the bustard. "Come out and get the prize that you deserve!"
"Yes!" echoed all the other birds. "Come on, Ncede! Where's your brave face now?"
But Ncede stayed hidden. The birds guarded the hole until long after sunset, waiting for Ncede
to show his face. All through the night they waited, thinking that Ncede had to come out for
food or water soon. In the morning Ncede had still not appeared. "Listen," said Nkwazi, "I am
faint from hunger. We do not all need to guard the hole. I suggest we take turns until the little
jokester decides to come out!" Everyone agreed, most of them being terribly tired.
"I am not yet weary or hungry," volunteered the owl. "I do not mind taking the first watch. Just
mind that someone comes back in an hour or two to relieve me!"
A quick roster was drawn up and everyone but owl went off to sleep or hunt for food. Owl was
used to being still and waiting for his prey. He waited and waited it seemed to him forever.
Finally he decided to close just one of his eyes. "After all," he thought, "even one of my eyes is
bigger and can see better than both eyes on any other bird!" He closed his right eye and peered
into the dark hole with his left eye. Several minutes later Owl decided to switch and so he open
the right eye and closed the left. This went on for quite a while, until one time Owl forgot to
open the right eye when he closed the left. There he was, both eyes closed! And he fell fast
asleep.
Now this was the moment for which Ncede had been waiting. Before the opportunity was lost,
Ncede shot out of the hole and disappeared into the forest. Eagle, who was on his way to
relieve Owl, saw the little creature leave and cried out. He went to owl and found the bird in a
deep sleep.
"Wake up, you fool!" he shouted at owl. "You fell asleep and Ncede got away!"
Well, Owl was so embarrassed by his mistake, to this day he sleeps during the day and does his
hunting at night so that none of the other birds will bother him about having been caught
sleeping on the job. And Ncede, he hides out in the forest, flittering from here to there, never
stopping anywhere long enough to be caught.
"So," Gogo," asked Thobeka when several moments of silence had elapsed, "who then became
the king of the birds?"
"That, my child," Gogo looked at her granddaughter with a smile, "no one knows. I think they
are arguing to this day about the position!"
Why the Warthog Goes About on His Knees (A Traditional Zulu Story)
"Oh, Gogo," little Sipho asked one evening, "could you tell us the story of clever Jackal
again?" Sipho, whose nickname was Mpungushe "jackal," never tired of hearing tales of his
beloved namesake.
"Hawu, Sipho," moaned several of his siblings, "Not again, little Jackal! You will wear out our
ears with stories of Mpungushe!"
Gogo laughed her deep, round laugh. Soon each of her grandchildren were laughing along with
her.
"I, too, love the stories of the Jackal!" Gogo looked at Sipho. "But we do not want to cause
your brothers and sisters to become deaf. I think there is another tale that I can tell you of an
animal who tried to be as clever as Jackal!"
Kwasuka sukela . . .
Wart hog had made himself a lovely, spacious home in an old termite mound that an aardvark*
had cleared out. He had built it up and made a wide entrance. He thought it was the most
magnificant home in Africa and would often stand at the entrance of his dwelling with his
snout in the air as the giraffe, wildebeest** and zebra passed to the watering hole. "Hah," he
thought to himself, "no one has such a fine home!"
One day as he looked out from the entrance of his cave he was horrified to see a huge lion
stealthily stalking toward him. He started to back away, but because he had made the entrance
to his place so grand, the lion would have no difficulty in following Wart Hog right in.
"Ahhhh," panicked Wart Hog, "Bhubesi will eat me in my own lounge! What will I do?"
Wart Hog decided to use an old trick he'd heard Jackal bragging about. Wart Hog pretended to
be supporting the roof of his hole with his strong back, pushing up with his tusks. "Help!" he
cried to the lion, "I am going to be crushed! The roof is caving in! Flee, oh, mighty Bhubesi,
before you are crushed along with me!"
Now Lion is no fool. He recognized Jackal's old ploy straight away ("Do you remember that
story, children?"), and he wasn't going to be caught out again. He roared so fiercely that Wart
hog dropped to his knees, trembling. Wart hog begged for mercy. Luckily for him Lion was
not too hungry. So he pardoned the wart hog and left, saying, "Stay on your kness, you foolish
beast!"
Lion laughed to himself and shook his shaggy head as he walked away. Imagine, slow-witted
Wart hog trying to copy Jackal's trick! Wart hog took Lion's order to heart. That is why, to this
day, you will see Wart hog feeding on his knees, in a very undignified position, with his
bottom up in the air and his snout snuffling in the dust.
Notes:
*"aardvark" comes from Afrikaans and literally means "earth pig." It is a South African
eutherian mammal which is nocturnal and feeds mainly on termites.
** "wildebeest" is a South African antelope that has a large ox-like head. It is often also
referred to as a "gnu" because its call sounds like "gnu...gnu...gnu."