The Baboons Who Went This Way and That: Folktales From Africa

  Folktales from Africa:

  THE BABOONS WHO WENT

  THIS WAY AND THAT

  More illustrated stories from

  THE GIRL WHO MARRIED A LION

  For Finola O'Sullivan

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Guinea Fowl Child

  A Girl Who Lived In A Cave

  Pumpkin

  Milk Bird

  Children Of Wax

  Bad Uncles

  Why Elephant And Hyena Live Far From People

  The Wife Who Could Not Work

  Bad Blood

  Two Bad Friends

  How A Strange Creature Took The Place Of A Girl And Then Fell Into A Hole

  Head Tree

  The Grandmother Who Was Kind To A Smelly Girl

  The Baboons Who Went This Way And That

  The Thathano Moratho Tree

  Chicken, Hawk And The Missing Needle

  Morategi And His Two Wives

  The Miracle Tree

  The Goat And The Jackal

  a cognizant original v5 release october 04 2010

  Introduction

  These stories are rather different. They are not stories which one person has written – they are stories which have been handed down from old people to young people over many, many years. Nobody knows who first told them; all we know is that they have been told for a very long time indeed.

  The stories in this book are all from two countries in Africa – Zimbabwe and Botswana. I collected some of them by talking to people and asking them to tell me the stories – others were collected by other people who did the asking for me. Then I retold them in my own words, adding some descriptions to make the stories a little bit more vivid for those readers who do not know what Africa is like.

  It is not easy to forget these stories – they remain in the mind for a long time after we have come to their end. Why is this? I think that it is because they seem so strange to us when we first encounter them. They are about animals who can talk. They are about very peculiar things that happen. In the real world a hawk would not be a friend of a hen, and in the real world trees do not suddenly change into something quite different. But all this happens in these stories.

  They are not just stories of magical events, though. Folktales are often meant to say something about how we should behave towards other people, and you will see that message in many of these stories. They show that selfish people will be caught out sooner or later. They show that we must help those around us. They also warn us to beware of tricksters.

  When you have finished reading these stories, I hope that you may have found out something about Africa. Modern Africa, of course, is not like the Africa in these stories, but many of the traditions of the past still remain – and many of the songs and stories too. The stories might help you to understand at least some of that traditional African culture.

  Most of all, though, the stories are meant to be fun, and that, I hope, is what people will have when they read them.

  Alexander McCall Smith

  Edinburgh 2006

  THE TALES

  1

  Guinea Fowl

  Child

  A rich man like Mzizi, who had many cattle, would normally be expected to have many children. Unhappily, his wife, Pitipiti, was unable to produce children. She consulted many people about this, but although she spent much on charms and medicines that would bring children, she remained barren.

  Pitipiti loved her husband and it made her sad to see his affection for her vanishing as he waited for the birth of children. Eventually, when it was clear that she was not a woman for bearing a child, Pitipiti’s husband married another wife. Now he lived in the big kraal with his new young wife and Pitipiti heard much laughter coming from the new wife’s hut. Soon there was a first child, and then another.

  Pitipiti went to take gifts to the children, but she was rebuffed by the new wife.

  “For so many years Mzizi wasted his time with you,” the new wife mocked. “Now in just a short time I have given him children. We do not want your gifts.”

  She looked for signs in her husband’s eyes of the love that he used to show for her, but all she saw was the pride that he felt on being the father of children. It was as if she no longer existed for him. Her heart cold within her, Pitipiti made her way back to her lonely hut and wept. What was there left for her to live for now – her husband would not have her and her brothers were far away. She would have to continue living by herself and she wondered whether she would be able to bear such loneliness.

  Some months later, Pitipiti was ploughing her fields when she heard a cackling noise coming from some bushes nearby. Halting the oxen, she crept over to the bushes and peered into them. There, hiding in the shade, was a guinea fowl. The guinea fowl saw her and cackled again.

  “I am very lonely,” he said. “Will you make me your child?”

  Pitipiti laughed. “But I cannot have a guinea fowl for my child!” she exclaimed. “Everyone would laugh at me.”

  The guinea fowl seemed rather taken aback by this reply, but he did not give up.

  “Will you make me your child just at night?” he asked. “In the mornings I can leave your hut very early and nobody will know.”

  Pitipiti thought about this. Certainly this would be possible: if the guinea fowl was out of the hut by the time the sun rose, then nobody need know that she had adopted it. And it would be good, she thought, to have a child, even if it was really a guinea fowl.

  “Very well,” she said, after a few moments’ reflection. “You can be my child.”

  The guinea fowl was delighted and that evening, shortly after the sun had gone down, he came to Pitipiti’s hut. She welcomed him and made him an evening meal, just as any mother would do with her child. They were both very happy.

  Still the new wife laughed at Pitipiti. Sometimes she would pass by Pitipiti’s fields and jeer at her, asking her why she grew crops if she had no mouths to feed. Pitipiti ignored these jibes, but inside her every one of them was like a small sharp spear that cuts and cuts.

  The guinea fowl heard these taunts from a tree in which he was sitting, and he cackled with rage. For the new wife, though, these sounds were just the sound of a bird in a tree.

  “Mother,” the guinea fowl asked that night. “Why do you bear the insults of that other woman?”

  Pitipiti could think of no reply to this. In truth there was little that she could do. If she tried to chase away the new wife, then her husband would be angry with her and might send her away altogether. There was nothing she could do.

  The bird, however, thought differently. He was not going to have his mother insulted in this way and the following day he rose early and flew to the highest tree that overlooked the fields of the new wife. There, as the sun rose, he called out a guinea fowl song:

  Come friends, there is grain to eat!

  Come and eat all this woman’s grain!

  It did not take long for the new wife to realize what was happening. Shouting with anger, she ran out into the fields and killed Pitipiti’s guinea fowl and his friends. Then she took them back to her hut, plucked out their feathers, and began to cook them.

  Mzizi was called to the feast and together he and his new wife ate all the guinea fowl at one sitting. It was a tasty meal and they were both very pleased with themselves for having made such a good start to the day.

  No sooner had they finished the last morsel than Mzizi and the new wife heard the sound of singing coming from their stomachs. It was the guinea fowls singing their guinea fowl songs. This, of cour
se, frightened the couple and they immediately seized long knives and stabbed at their stomachs to stop the noise. As the knives pierced their skins, bright blood flowed freely and they fell to the ground. As they fell, from out of the wounds came the guinea fowl and his friends, cackling with joy at their freedom. Soon they were back in the field, eating the last of the grain that was left.

  Pitipiti was pleased that she no longer had to suffer the taunts of the new wife. She now owned her husband’s cattle and because of this there were many men waiting to marry her. All of them, of course, were happy at the thought that they might marry a wife who had such a clever and unusual child.

  2

  A Girl Who

  Lived In A Cave

  A girl who only had one brother liked the place where she and her parents lived. There was a river nearby, where she could draw water, and the family’s cattle enjoyed the sweet grass which grew by the riverside. The huts were shaded from the hot sun by the broad leaves of the trees, and at night there was a soft breeze from the hills, which kept them cool. Passers-by, who called in to drink water from the family’s calabashes, would say how much they envied that quiet place, and how their own places were so much drier and dustier.

  Then a terrible thing happened, which spoiled the happiness of the family. The girl had gone to fetch water from the river and was walking back to her hut with a large calabash on her head. Suddenly she began to feel that she was being followed. At first she did nothing, but then, when the feeling became quite strong, she turned round and looked behind her. There was nothing to be seen, although the tall grass moved and there was a faint sound, rather like that which a creature makes when it scurries through a bush.

  The girl continued on her way. After she had taken a few more steps she again heard a noise. This time she swung round more sharply, dropping the calabash to the ground. There was a man behind her, crouching down, half in the grass, half out of it.

  The girl was frightened by the sight of the man, but she tried not to show her fear. He smiled at her, and rose to his feet.

  “You must not be afraid of me,” he said. “I am just walking in the grass.”

  The girl could not understand why a man should wish to walk in the grass, but she did not say anything. The man came up to her and reached out to touch her.

  “You are a nice, fat girl,” he said.

  The girl was now very nervous and moved away from the man’s touch.

  “My father’s place is just there,” she said. “I can see the smoke from his fire.”

  The man looked in the direction of the huts.

  “If that is so,” he said, “I can walk with you to your father’s place, where I can eat some food.”

  The girl walked ahead of the man and soon they came to the circle of huts under the trees. There the stranger waited at the gate while the girl went in to tell her father that there was a man who wished to eat some food. The father came out, called to the man, and invited him to sit on a stone under one of the trees. Food was made by the girl’s mother and given to the man. He took it, and put it all into his mouth in one piece. Then he swallowed, and all the food was gone. The girl had not seen a man eat in this way before and wondered why he should be so hungry.

  After the man had eaten, he got up and said goodbye to the father. He looked around him before he left, as if he was trying to remember what the family looked like and what they owned. Then he walked off and was soon obscured by the tall grass that grew in that part.

  The girl went to stand by her father’s side.

  “That was a very wicked man,” said the father. “I am very sorry that he visited this place.”

  “I am sure he will not come back,” the girl said. “He was going somewhere else when I met him.”

  The father shook his head sadly.

  “Now that he is here,” he said. “We shall have to leave. I shall tell your brother to collect his sleeping mat and get ready for us to go to some other place.”

  The girl could not believe that the family would be leaving the place where they had lived for so long and of which she felt so fond. She tried to persuade her father to stay, but he was convinced that they were in great danger by staying where they were.

  “It is better to move now,” he said, “than to regret it later.”

  The girl wept, but her tears were ignored by her father. Soon he had all the family’s possessions loaded on his back and was calling out to the others to follow him on the path.

  “I shall not come with you,” the girl said defiantly. “I have been happy in this place and see no reason to move.”

  The girl’s mother pleaded with her to go, but the girl refused. Eventually the father became impatient.

  “If you must stay,” he said, “then you should at least go and live in a cave in the hillside. There is a place there where there is a large rock which can be used as a door. At night you must roll that rock in behind you and let nobody into the cave.”

  The girl agreed to this, as she knew that nearby cave. It was comfortable and cool, and she thought she would be happy there. As the rest of the family disappeared down the path that led to their new place, she took her mat and her pots to the cave and set them on a ledge at the back. Then, since it was beginning to get dark, she rolled the rock in the front into position. Inside the cave, it was pitch black, but the girl felt safe and she slept well that first night.

  The next day, the girl’s brother paid her a visit to see how she was. She told him of how comfortable she had been in the cave and of how well she had slept.

  “I am safe there,” she explained. “The rock blocks the mouth of the cave and I shall open it to nobody. If you come, though, you should sing this song and I shall know that it is you.”

  The girl then sang a short song, which the boy listened to. He kept the words in his mind, as he planned to visit the girl that night to make sure that she was safe and that the rock was acting as a strong enough door.

  That evening, when he returned, it was already dark. As he approached the cave, he sang the song which she had taught him:

  There is a rock here and the cave is dark;

  Open the cave, my sister, and let me in.

  When the girl heard this song, she knew straight away that her brother was outside. She pushed at the rock and it rolled to one side. Her brother was pleased to see that the song worked and that his sister was safe. He gave her the food that he had brought her and then said goodbye.

  “Make sure that you roll the rock back once I am outside,” he said.

  “I shall always remember that,” his sister replied. “A girl could not live alone in a cave like this unless she had a rock for protection.”

  The brother came the next day, and the day after that. On his third visit there was something that worried him. Not far from the cave he noticed that there were footprints on the ground and that lying nearby there was a bone which had been gnawed. He picked up the bone and looked at it. Whoever had eaten it must have had a great appetite, for his teeth had cut right into the bone to extract its goodness. The footprints were large, too, and the sight of them made the brother feel uneasy.

  He arrived at the front of the cave and began to sing his song. As he did so, he had a strange feeling – as if there was somebody watching him. He turned round, but all that he saw was the wind moving through the dry brown grass and a rain bird circling in the sky. He finished the song, and the girl rolled back the rock to let him into the cave.

  “I would like you to come and live with your family again,” he said to the girl. “We are sad that you are not with us.”

  “I am sorry too,” she replied. “And yet I love this place too much to leave it. Perhaps one day my father will decide to come back here.”

  The boy shook his head. He knew that his father would never come back now that he had found that he liked the other place to which he had gone. Soon the memory of this place would fade and the family would talk no more about it.

  The boy ate some
food with his sister and then left. As he walked away, he again felt that there was somebody watching him, but again he saw nothing but the wind and a small snake that moved like a dark arrow through the dry leaves on the ground.

  The man who had driven the family away from that place was a cannibal. Now he had heard the boy singing his special song to his sister in the cave and he had remembered the words. Under a large tree not far away, he practiced the song which the boy sang. His voice, though, was too rough, and he realized that no girl would be fooled into believing that it was the voice of her young brother.

  The cannibal had a way to deal with this. He made a fire, and on the fire he put a number of stones. Then, when these stones were red hot, he put them in his mouth and let them lie against that part of his throat that made the sound. After a few minutes he spat out the stones and tried the song again. The stones had done what he had hoped they would do and his voice was now as soft as the boy’s.

  Inside the cave, the girl had settled herself to sleep on her sleeping mat when she heard her brother singing outside. It surprised her that he should come back so soon, but then she remembered that he had left a calabash in the cave and might be returning to collect it.

  “I am coming, my brother,” the girl sang out. “The rock will move back and let you in.”

  By the time that the mouth of the cave was half open, the girl realized that it was not her brother who was standing outside. When she saw the cannibal, her heart gave a leap of fear and she struggled to roll the rock back. The cannibal, though, was too quick and had seized her before she could seal off the cave mouth.