Congo life and folklore

For many years I have been collecting folklore stories such as are told round the fires of the Congo villages--stories that have been handed down from generation to generation; and are so well known that sentences from them are often quoted, and have thus become the proverbs with which the natives so freely interlard their talk.

To have printed all the stories collected would have meant a bulky volume; but these selected for publication are typical of those that remain, although every story has its own peculiarity of plot, explanation, or teaching.

Between most of the stories told on the Upper Congo and those related on the Lower Congo there is, as a rule, this marked difference: the former try to explain why things are as they are, i. e. why people steal, lie and die; why women run away from their husbands; and why some birds have nests and other birds none: the latter are didactic parables. The former are explanatory of habits and customs, and the latter contain the wit, the wisdom and the moral teaching of many generations, and sum up their view of life--that the cheat will himself be cheated; that the unreasonable will be outwitted by craftiness; the tyrant and bully will eventually be punished, and kindness rewarded with timely succour. I am of opinion that the former--the explanatory--stage indicates a more primitive state than the latter or teaching stage, still it would be a very interesting study to decide this point.

These stories belong to the Lower Congo, and more especially to the districts around San Salvador (Portuguese Congo), and Ngombe Lutete (or Wathen in Congo Belge). Some of the Upper River stories I hope to publish on a future occasion.

While living at San Salvador many years ago, the lads and I, on our recreation evenings, told each other tales, and it was then that I heard for the first time some of these stories; a few others I have culled from the pages of a native magazine called Ngonde ye Ngonde (= “Month by Month”), printed and published by our Mission at San Salvador; but by far the larger number were written for me by the teachers and boys of the Wathen Mission School to whom I gave exercise-books with the request that they would write out such stories as they could remember, or could gather from their friends.

I never suggested a story nor a plot to them, for to me personally they would lose their value if they were the result of any such promptings. It was not until a large number of them had been collected that any idea of presenting them in this form entered the mind of the collector. And folklorists may rest assured that the stories here set before them are genuinely native in plot, situation, explanation and “teaching,” and, wherever possible, in idiom also.

In these stories the different birds, insects, reptiles and animals speak, marry, attend markets, transact business and lay their cases for decision before the elders as though they were human beings. The heroes among them are endowed with those qualities most admired by the natives, while those that are “fooled” are the personification of such characteristics as awaken only their ridicule and contempt. ’Cuteness, craftiness and wit are at a premium in these stories, and it is curious to note that these qualities seem to be the peculiar property of the small animals, such as the gazelle, the mouse, the squirrel, etc.; and rarely the possession of the larger animals, as the elephant, buffalo and leopard; or when two species of the same order--the driver-ant and the small-ant--are brought into rivalry it is the latter that wins; two birds, as in “The Crow and the Dove,” it is again the weaker one who triumphs in the end.

On the other hand gullibility, dupability, utter stupidity and lack of foresight are associated with bulk, i. e. the larger animals are, as a rule, thoroughly fooled. They have laughed many a time at the way the Gazelle “fooled” the Leopard, yet I do not think there was one who would not rather have been the Leopard than the Gazelle--they were not so good as their philosophy.

Greediness in eating is condemned by all natives, and it is interesting to note that the only time, in these stories, the Gazelle is caught and punished it is his greediness that leads to his downfall; and, again, in the story of the Gazelle and the Palm-rat, the latter is choked, not so much because he broke his promise--that is regarded as ’cuteness by the natives--but because he refused to share the palm-nuts with his companion--an act condemned by all natives. This is a trait well marked in the native character. Any one of them will scramble and wrangle for as big a portion of anything going as he can get; but once he has it he will share it with any of his family, or his companions, or even with strangers who happen to be present when he is eating it.

Again and again, when I have given portions of food or salt to a boy, the recipient has shared it equally with his comrades. Here is a monkey to be divided among a dozen boatmen. Two of them will be set to clean it and divide it into twelve portions, and they will be very careful to make all the divisions equal, because by an unwritten law, which I have never seen infringed, the two who apportioned the meat will not take their shares until the others have selected theirs. This is a guarantee that all the portions will be alike, otherwise the last would come off very badly. Each as he chooses will select what he considers to be the largest heap; but once he has it, he is quite willing to share it with any or all of his comrades.

There is a delightful absence of proportion in these stories, for in them mice and birds marry young women; a mouse carries the head of a leopard in his bag and brags that he has eaten nine leopards, and although he punishes the elephant and the buffalo he has to cry for help against the hyena; the gazelle eats whole pigs and goats; and a chameleon snarls and the elephant, leopard and other animals run away in terror. Nothing is strange or incongruous in a land where witch-doctors abounded, and were credited with performing wonders by their supposed magical powers. If you questioned any feat, you were at once told most emphatically: “Well, it was done by his magic, or his fetish, or his charm performed it.”

In all the animal stories in this collection the different animals mostly address each other as “uncle,” irrespective of sex; but as this would have been confusing to the reader, I have only retained the term where it fits the sex of the one addressed. In the Congo language there is no gender, and the animals belong to various classes (there are fifteen classes in the Lower Congo language); but directly they are used in stories, and have human characteristics ascribed to them, they are removed from their different classes and placed in the first, or personal, class, e.g. Nsexi is in the second class, and its pronominal prefix is i singular, and zi plural; but being moved into the first class it becomes a person, and its prefix is o singular, and be plural--the animal is no longer an “it,” but a “he” or “she.”

Included in this collection are a few stories that are not animal ones, as "The Water-Fairies save a Child"--a warning to parents not to be unreasonable in their punishments; "The Story of two Young Women"--a lesson on vanity, and that wealth does not always bring happiness; and "The Adventures of the Twins"--a whimsical criticism on how human beings should be made in order to avoid the inconveniences, limitations and troubles that attend their present mode of construction.

The reader must not be surprised to find that some of these stories are similar to those made famous by Uncle Remus,^[68] and the reason is not far to seek. About three generations ago the Congo natives were transported in large numbers as slaves to America, and naturally they carried with them their language and their stories. The goobah in Uncle Remus is a corruption of nguba, the Lower Congo word for peanut; and Brer Rabbit is the gazelle,^[69] Brer Fox is the leopard, and the Tar-baby is the fetish called Nkondi; but in the Tar-baby a concession is made to civilization, for in Uncle Remus’s account the image is covered with tar to account for Brer Rabbit sticking to it, whereas in what I believe to be the original story the Nkondi image causes the victim to stick by its own inherent fetish power. In “Cunnie Rabbit, Mr. Spider and the other Beef,” there is a story of a Wax-girl, which has all the elements of the Tar-baby, and here again the wax that causes the sticking is a concession, I think, to civilization like the tar.

All raw natives would believe that a fetish by its own magical powers could hold tightly its victim without the aid of such extraneous things as tar and wax. It is apparent that the narrators have lost faith in the magical powers of their fetish, and have introduced the wax and the tar to render their stories a little more reasonable to themselves. It is interesting to note that when Brer Rabbit was thrown among the leaves of the briar bush he unsticks from the Tar-baby, and in the Leopard sticking to the Nkondi the Gazelle “cuts some leaves and made a charm to set the Leopard free.” One can discover many similarities between these stories and those told by Uncle Remus. There is little doubt that most, if not all, the stories of Remus were told around the Congo village fires before they delighted the hearts and lightened the burdens of the negro slaves on the southern plantations of America. Yet is Congo the original home of these stories? Or have they travelled far by devious ways, perhaps even doubling back in their course, so that their real home is now lost in antiquity, and the road to it obliterated by the swamps of time across which the human family has wandered in its many journeyings?

The natives in their talk often use phrases from their stories which are quite sufficient to recall to the hearers the whole fable and its teaching, as “sour grapes” with us conjures up the fox looking with longing eyes at the fruit beyond his reach. Many of these concentrated sentences have become the proverbs of to-day, and the Lower Congo language is rich in such mots, and one could, in fact, gain a very clear idea of the Congo man’s philosophy from an analysis of the sentences culled from their stories which have become their maxims.

In these pages will be found some puzzle stories, such as “The Four Fools” and “The Four Wonders.” These are propounded and cause no end of discussion as to which has performed the greatest feat of skill, and thus earned the fowl that laid money (i. e. beads); and also who had committed the greatest wrong against the usual order of mundane affairs, and thus deserved the most blame. Each fool and each wonder-worker has his adherents, who will argue in his favour with so much vehemence and gesticulation that the listener who does not know them will think them on the verge of a most desperate fight. After long and toilsome journeys the writer has heard his carriers argue about these problem stories far into the night; and they would return again and again to the charge, each individual (or party) supporting his favourite character with all the natural eloquence at his command. Night after night they would revert to the same story in order to give expression to the arguments, in favour of their views, that had come into their minds through the day while journeying with their loads up and down the hills. One problem story has furnished them, sometimes, with sufficient discussion to last four or five nights.

The stories are told round the fire on nights that are too dark for dancing. The various groups will arrange themselves round the blazing hearths, and after the news of the day has been exhausted, one will tell a story suggested by some item of news, or the action of a friend, or the saying of an enemy. The story is told with dramatic power and forcible eloquence, the narrator acting the various parts and imitating the sounds of the different animals. In some of the stories there are choruses, and these are taken up and sung heartily to the clapping of their hands.

There is no greater treat than to listen to a Congo story told in the original by one of these born story-tellers--the lights and shadows caused by the flickering fire, the swaying body of the narrator, the fixed attention and grunts of approval of the listeners, the great dark beyond, the many mystic sounds issuing from the surrounding bush and forest lend a peculiar weirdness to the story and its teller.

A father correcting his children will tell them a story to enforce his teaching, and though wise words might be forgotten, the story will remain in the memory with guiding or deterrent power; sons and daughters repeat these stories to their parents if they think they are not being properly treated according to native ideas.

During a lawsuit the native advocates in stating the case for their clients will tell stories with great effect, or will illustrate a point against their opponents by relating a parable suitable to the occasion; and the judge will often give his verdict by recounting a fable, and if they do not know one appropriate to the case they will invent one, and should it happen to be a happy invention it will pass from mouth to mouth, and thus into the folklore of the district; the current stories, known to all, are a survival of the fittest, and some of them are here placed before the reader.

I
How the Fowl evaded his Debt

Once upon a time a cock Fowl and a Leopard began a friendship, and not very long afterwards the Leopard lent some money to the Fowl. It was arranged that on a certain day the Leopard should receive the money at the Fowl’s residence.

On the morning of the appointed day the Fowl ground up some red peppers, and mixed them with water so that it looked like blood, and when he heard that the Leopard was on the way to his house he went into his courtyard and said to his slaves: “When the Leopard arrives and asks for me, tell him my head has been cut off and carried to the women in the farms to be combed and cleaned.” Then he hid his head under his wings and told them to pour some of the pepper water on his neck, which they did, and it fell to the ground like blood.

The Leopard arrived and asked for his friend the Fowl. The slaves repeated what they had been told, and, on the Leopard hearing it, he wished to be allowed a closer view of the marvel, and on beholding the red-pepper water dropping to the ground, he thought it was all true.

On returning later he asked the Fowl how it was done, and the Fowl replied: “When you reach your town, you cut off your head, and send it to the farm to be combed and cleaned, and there you are.”

“Oh! thank you, friend,” said the Leopard, “I will astonish the natives of my town.”

Away he went to his town, and told all his wives that he had been taught some wonderful magic by his friend the Fowl.

“What is it?” they asked.

“Well, my head is cut off,” said the Leopard, “and then you take it to the farm to comb and clean, and then you bring it back.”

“All right,” they cried in chorus.

The Leopard sent messengers to all the towns in his district, inviting the folk on a certain day to come and see the wonder. On the day a great crowd of people arrived, and when all was ready the Leopard went into the centre, and his head was cut off, but his legs gave way, and he fell down.

The head was returned after being combed and cleaned, but when they put it on the neck it would not stay there. Thus died the Leopard because of his conceit in thinking he could do all that others did; and also because he did not use his common sense to perceive the foolishness of what the Fowl told him. Do not believe all you see and hear.

One day a fierce Driver-ant^[70] and a Small-ant had a long discussion as to which of them was the stronger. The Driver-ant boasted of his size, the strength of his mandibles, and the fierceness of his bite.

“Yes, all that may be true,” quietly answered the Small-ant, “and yet with all your size and strong jaws you cannot do what I can do.”

“What is that?” sneeringly asked the Driver-ant.

“You cannot cut a piece of skin off the back of that man’s hand, and drop it down here,” replied the Small-ant.

“Can’t I? All of you wait and see,” said the Driver-ant.

Away he climbed up the man until he reached the back of his hand. At the first bite of the strong mandibles, the man started, and, looking down at his hand, saw the Driver-ant, picked it off, and dropped it dead at his feet right among the waiting crowd of ants.

The Small-ant then climbed to the place, and gently, softly, with great patience he worked round a piece of skin until it was loose, and he was able to drop it to the ground. The waiting throng of ants proclaimed him the winner, for he had done by his gentleness and patience what the other had failed to do by his strength and fierceness.

Once upon a time a Leopard gave birth to seven cubs, and she asked the Jackal to act as nurse for her while she was away hunting.

Shortly after the departure of the Leopard the Gazelle arrived, and said to the Jackal: “Let us eat one of the cubs and then you will have six left.”

“What shall I do when the Leopard returns?” asked the Jackal.

“Oh! I will help you,” quickly promised the Gazelle.

Thereupon the Jackal gave up a cub, and then another, and another, until at last all the cubs were eaten.

The Gazelle then tied the Jackal to a tree and said: "When you hear the Leopard coming, shout out loudly, ‘Murder! Thieves!’"

In a little time the Jackal heard the Leopard bounding through the forest, and he began to cry out: “We are robbed! we are robbed! Help! Thieves!”

“What is the matter? What are you crying about?” asked the Leopard.

“Oh!” sobbed the Jackal, “I don’t know at all who tied me up, but all of your children are eaten.” The Leopard, on hearing this, was very angry.

The reckless, daring Gazelle scampered off, and by and by reached a place where all the animals were gambling with dice. A Pigeon gave him the dice to throw, and the Gazelle threw a “Leopard” (the name of a winning throw). “Oh, dear me!” said the Gazelle, when he saw his luck, “I have eaten seven young leopards, and nothing has happened to me.”

The other animals thought this was a lucky saying, so they repeated the words every time they threw the dice. The Gazelle warned them not to imitate the sayings of others, or trouble would come upon them. But they, thinking he only wanted to keep his good luck to himself, repeated the words more earnestly. The Gazelle slipped away to call the Leopard, and begged her not to be angry with what she would hear.

The Leopard went to the games, and when she heard one animal after another say: “Oh, dear me! I have eaten seven young leopards, and nothing has happened to me,” she became so angry that she fought with the different animals and killed them all. As for the Gazelle, he took himself out of the way. Thus the animals, through apeing others, lost their lives.

There lived once a chief who owned a large number of Fowls. On arising early one morning he found that the door of their house had been left open all night. He thereupon woke up the Head Cock and asked why he had not shut the door.

The Cock replied: “We did not go to sleep very early last night, as we quarrelled over who should shut the door. I told one to do it, and he told another, and at last we became so angry with each other that no one would shut the door, so we went to sleep leaving it open.”

The owner snapped his fingers in speechless surprise at the Fowl’s excuse, and walked away.

Another day the chief went to see his wives’ farms and found them all clean and well weeded, but the road leading to the farms, which was nobody’s work, was choked with tall grass and weeds. That evening the chief called out loudly so that all the town could hear: “You women, I went to your farms to-day, and found the road covered with tall grass and weeds. Truly you are near relatives of the fowls, who sleep with open door because each tells the other to shut it. To-morrow all of you go and clear the road.”

When the Fowls heard these remarks they were very vexed, and the Cock said: “You have heard what our owner has shouted out to the whole town. He has held us up as a bad example to all in the place, yet when I went to a neighbouring town the day before yesterday I saw a buffalo rotting by the roadside.”

“Why was it rotting there?” asked the Black Hen of her husband.

The Cock replied: "When I reached the town the other day I heard that Don’t-care, who is the son of Peter Pay-if-you-like, went outside his house and saw a buffalo; he aroused his companions and told them to go and shoot it; but they said: ‘Go and shoot it yourself.’ ‘What! am I to see the buffalo and shoot it also?’ he asked. Thereupon Wise-man fired at the buffalo, and told another to go and see if it were killed. He came back and said it was wounded; so another went and killed it; but he would not cut it up; and another went and cut it into pieces. Then each thought that the other should carry the flesh into the town; consequently it was left in the bush, and that was why the buffalo meat rotted at the roadside."

The Black Hen said: “Indeed, is that so?” But the Speckled Hen observed: “That it would be better for human beings if they looked better after their own business, instead of poking their noses into affairs belonging to Fowls, and holding them up as a bad example to their women.”

The Head Cock said: “That from that day neither he, nor his children, nor his grandchildren should ever shut the doors of their houses, no matter how cold it might be, or what risks they might run of being eaten by wild animals.” Thus it is that Fowls never shut their doors at night. They are angry that human beings, who conduct their own affairs so badly, should find fault with the way in which Fowls look after theirs.

One day the Dog, the Palm-rat, the Hawk, and the Eagle arranged to take a journey together, but before starting they agreed not to thwart each other in any matter.

They had not gone very far when the Eagle saw a bunch of unripe palm-nuts, and said: “When these palm-nuts are ripe, and I have eaten them, then we will proceed on our way.”

They waited many days until the palm-nuts ripened and were eaten by the Eagle, then they started again, and by and by the Hawk espied the bush (a great space covered with tall grass, canes, and stunted trees), and said: “When this bush is burnt, and I have eaten the locusts, and drunk in the smoke from the fire, then we will go.”

So they waited while the bush dried, and was burnt, and the Hawk ate his locusts, and drank in the smoke from the burning grass, then they were ready to start again; but when the Palm-rat saw the bush was burnt, he said: “We remain here until the grass and canes have grown again, so that I may eat the young canes, for remember we agreed not to thwart or oppose each other on this journey.”

They waited there some months until the canes grew again, and the Palm-rat had eaten them.

Once more they started on their travels, and on reaching a large forest the Dog said: “Now I will dry my nose.”

His companions answered: “All right, we will go for firewood.”

The Palm-rat and the Hawk fetched the wood, and the Eagle went for the fire. The Dog put his nose near the fire, but every time it dried he made it wet again by licking it. They remained a long time in the forest, but the Dog’s nose never became properly dry: it was an endless job. His companions became vexed, and the Hawk and the Eagle flew away, leaving the Palm-rat and the Dog alone. At last the patience of the Palm-rat was exhausted, and he, too, ran away; but the Dog chased him to kill him, and this is the reason why the Dog and the Palm-rat hate each other. He would not wait until the Dog’s nose was dry.

One day the Gazelle bought some maize at the market, and while he was boiling them at home, the Leopard paid him a visit, and asked him: “Friend Gazelle, what are you boiling in the saucepan?”

The Gazelle replied: “I am boiling my mother’s teeth.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Leopard, “let me taste them.” So the Gazelle gave him some of the cooked maize, and the Leopard ate them, and thought them so good that he went home and pulled out all his mother’s teeth, and put them to boil in a saucepan.

The Gazelle, passing the house, called in, and seeing the saucepan on the fire, asked the Leopard what he was cooking. “I am cooking my mother’s teeth, but they don’t get soft,” answered the Leopard.

The Gazelle laughingly said: “I meant maize, and you have pulled out and are boiling all your mother’s teeth.” The Leopard was so angry at what he had foolishly done, that he drove the Gazelle off and wanted to kill him, but the Gazelle ran away and hid in a log of wood.

The Leopard, returning from his pursuit of the Gazelle, saw the firewood and carried it home, and, as he was splitting it, out jumped a fine dog. The Leopard admired the dog so much that he told his wives never to beat it.

One day one of the wives pointed her finger at it, and the dog was so insulted at having a finger pointed at him that he howled so long and loudly that the Leopard came and killed his wife for insulting his dog; and thus he killed them one after the other; and when they were all dead, the dog changed back into a Gazelle, and ran away laughing at the Leopard for his foolishness in mistaking maize for teeth, and a Gazelle for a dog.

Once upon a time a Partridge having laid her eggs, was driven from them by a Python, who took possession of them by coiling herself round and round the eggs.

The Partridge, seeing she had been deprived of her eggs, began to call for help. A Buffalo, hearing her, came and asked what was the matter.

The Partridge said: “The Python has rolled herself round my eggs, and I want a wise body to save them for me.”

“Don’t worry,” said the Buffalo, “I will go and stamp on her.”

“Not you,” cried the Partridge; “while you are stamping on her you will smash my eggs. I am looking for a wise body to help me.”

The Partridge continued to call, and the Elephant came asking what was the matter.

“Oh!” sobbed the Partridge, “the Python has curled round my eggs, and I want a wise body to save them.”

“Never mind,” replied the Elephant, “I will go and smash her to pulp.”

“Not you,” cried the Partridge, “you will break all my eggs.”

So one animal after another offered help, but they were rejected, as they could not drive the Python away without endangering the eggs. The poor Partridge was at her wits’ end, when an army of Driver-ants arrived and inquired the reason of her calling for help. When they heard the cause they marched right up to where the Python was, and at once began to nip, nip, nip with their strong mandibles, and the Python unrolled herself and glided away as fast as she could. Thus the Ants rescued the stolen eggs that would otherwise have been broken by the clumsy attempts of the Buffalo and the Elephant.

In the long ago both the Leopard and the Gazelle made new maize farms. When the ground was ready for planting, the Gazelle put some maize in a saucepan to boil, and hid the rest of his maize in another place. While the pot was on the fire the Leopard arrived, and asked: “Friend Gazelle, what are you boiling?”

“Some maize,” said the Gazelle, “and when it is cooked I am going to plant maize in my farm.”

The Leopard exclaimed, “Indeed! do you plant boiled maize?”

“Yes,” answered the Gazelle. “I boil all my maize, for then it grows better.”

The Leopard returned home at once and rubbed all his maize off their cobs, and boiled the maize. The next morning they both went and planted their maize in their farms. During the following night, however, the Gazelle went and planted some unboiled maize in the Leopard’s farm.

After a few days they went to have a look at their farms, and in the Gazelle’s the whole of the maize was sprouting well, but in the Leopard’s only the raw maize the Gazelle had planted was growing. The Leopard could not understand it, for he said: “I well boiled all my maize, and yet it does not grow.”

By and by the maize was ripe for plucking, and the Gazelle and Leopard went and pulled what they wanted and returned home. For several nights after that the Leopard went stealing maize in the Gazelle’s farm, and one day the Gazelle said to him: “Friend Leopard, who is stealing maize from my farm?”

“I don’t know,” replied the Leopard. The Gazelle carved a wooden fetish called the Nkondi, and put it in his farm.

The next night the Leopard went and stole some more maize, and as he was leaving the farm the Nkondi said: “Oh, you are the thief, are you?”

“If you talk like that,” growled the Leopard, “I will hit you.”

“Hit me,” said the Nkondi. The Leopard hit him, and his paw stuck to the image.

“Let go,” cried the Leopard, “or I will hit you with my other hand.”

“Hit me,” repeated the Nkondi. The Leopard hit him with the other hand, and that stuck also to the image.

“Let go,” angrily cried the Leopard, “or I will kick and bite you.” Which he at once did, as the Nkondi would not let him go, and his feet and mouth stuck to the image; then both the Leopard and the Nkondi fell to the ground together.

By and by the Gazelle arrived, and when he saw the Leopard sticking to the Nkondi he said: “Oh, you are the thief,” and, having punished him, he cut some leaves and made a charm to set the Leopard free. After that the Leopard never again went stealing in the Gazelle’s maize farm.

On one occasion a daughter was born to a lonely pair, and the father said: “Any one who wants to marry my daughter must first cut down the mahogany tree standing in my garden.” Years passed, and when the father was dying he sent and told his wife that only he who felled the mahogany tree could marry his daughter.

By and by an Elephant arrived, and, sitting down in the town, asked the girl for a drink of water. She poured some water into a calabash and gave it to him, and he then asked her: “Are you married?” and she replied: “No, I am not yet married.” The Elephant said: “I will marry you.” Whereupon the mother called out: “You can marry her; but you must first cut down the mahogany tree.” The Elephant took an axe and cut, cut, cut until he was tired, and then went and rested under the eave of the house so long that when he went again to the tree it was just as it was before he cut it. When the Elephant saw that, he threw down the axe, saying: “It is not my wedding, the woman costs too much.”

As the Elephant was going away he met the Buffalo, and told him all about it, saying: “I came to marry, but I am not able to fell the tree.” The Buffalo picked up the axe and cut, cut, cut, and then rested under the verandah of the house. When he returned to the tree he found it had grown again to its former size. Down he threw the axe and bolted.

As the Buffalo was rushing away a Lion shouted out: “Where have you come from?” The Buffalo stopped and told him all his troubles. “Oh,” said the Lion, “give me an axe, I’ll marry her.” But the same thing happened to him, and to the Hyena, and to the Leopard also. They all cut at the tree, got tired, rested too long, and each ran away, saying: “I came to marry, but the girl is not worth the trouble.”

As the Leopard was bounding away, a Mouse asked him: “What is the matter?” and the Leopard growled out: “I went to marry a woman, but whoever marries her must fell the mahogany tree.” Thereupon the Mouse went and gnawed, gnawed, gnawed without stopping, until at last the tree toppled over and fell to the ground. When the mother saw the tree fall, she said: “Mouse, you can sleep here, and in the morning take your wife.”

In the morning they cut up six pigs and twenty loaves, then the Mouse took his wife, and they started on their journey to his town. They reached a stream where they camped for a time, and while there the Elephant arrived, and the Mouse said to him: “See, this is my wife.”

The Elephant would not agree to that, but said: “She is mine, I married her.”

“No,” said the Mouse, “she is mine. Accept of two pigs for dinner.”

When the Elephant heard that, he began to beat the Mouse, but the Mouse entered his trunk and gave him such pain that the Elephant cried: “Come out, and I will give you two pigs.” The Mouse came out, received his two pigs, and went off with his wife.

They reached another camping-place, and while resting and eating there, the Buffalo arrived. “Welcome to you, father,” said the Mouse. But the Buffalo did not want his welcome, and said he had married the woman, and when the Mouse would not give her up, the Buffalo hit him on the back with a stick. The Mouse entered the Buffalo’s ear and gave him so much pain that he bellowed: “Come out, and I will give you five sheep.” The Mouse came out, received his five sheep, and went away with his wife.

As they journeyed along they met the Hyena, who said: “Why, that is my wife,” and when the Mouse denied it, the Hyena became very angry, and beat the Mouse about in his weakness and made him cry. The Mouse called the Squirrels, who came and fought the Hyena, and while they were fighting, the Mouse hurried off with his wife.

They travelled until they came to a high plateau, where they met a large Rat, who said: “Give me that woman.”

To him the Mouse replied: “I cannot give her, for I have had plenty of trouble to gain her.”

“Very well,” answered the Rat; “let us go to the drinking-booth, and I will give you some palm-wine.”

While sitting there the Mouse took a rat’s head out of his bag.

“Where did you get that?” asked the Rat.

“Oh,” boasted the Mouse, “I have eaten nine rats, and you will be the tenth.” So alarmed was the Rat that he ran away and never said “Good-bye.”

At last the Mouse reached his town and gave his wife a house. There they feasted on the pigs and sheep they had gained on the road. But one day the Leopard paid a visit to the Mouse, and said: “Uncle Mouse, let us jointly make a maize farm.” This they did, and while the Mouse was watching the maize one day, the Leopard tried to run away with his wife. The Mouse, hearing this, invited the Leopard to drink wine in his house, and while they were drinking, the Mouse took out of his bag a Leopard’s head.

“Where did you get that?” asked the Leopard.

“Down in the drinking-booth I killed and ate nine,” said the Mouse, “and“and you will be the tenth.” The Leopard was so frightened at this, that when the Mouse told him to get into the calabash, he went right in at once. The Mouse put in the cork, and then put the calabash on the fire, and thus the Leopard died. The Mouse said: “I will govern in this country, for there is not another chief left.” Thus was the Mouse rewarded for his courage, wit, and perseverance.

Once upon a time a Leopard and a Gazelle lived together with their wives and families in the same town. One day the Leopard said: “Friend Gazelle, let us go and buy some drums in the Zombo country.” “All right,” replied the Gazelle; “but“but where is the money?” “I have the money by me,” answered the Leopard.

They started, and when they had walked a little way the Leopard growled out: “Wait here. I must return to the town, as I have forgotten something.” The Leopard returned to the town and went to the Gazelle’s wife and said: “My friend has sent me for his children.” Mrs. Gazelle gave them to him, and putting them into a bag, he returned to the place where he left the Gazelle. They started again, and when they had travelled a long distance the Leopard saw some honey in a hole in one of the trees, whereupon he said to the Gazelle: “Wait for me here while I go to eat the honey, but you must not undo the sack.”

The Gazelle was left to guard the sack, which he untied, and looking in, he exclaimed: “Why, they are my children!” He put the sack on his back and hurried to the town, gave his children back to his wife, and went to the Leopard’s house and said: “My friend has sent me for his children.” Mrs. Leopard gave them to him. He put them in the sack and returned quickly to the spot where the Leopard had left him. After a time the Leopard arrived, licking the honey off his lips, and, picking up the bag, away they went again on their journey. By and by they reached Zombo and bought some drums, and when the Leopard paid the money for them, he whispered: “Don’t undo the bag now, there are some gazelles in it.”

As they were returning home they tried the drums. The Leopard beat a tune and sang: “The stupid people go on foolish journeys.” For the Leopard thought the Gazelle had helped to sell his own children for drums. The Gazelle then beat a tune and sang: “At the place where they ate honey they left their bag of wisdom.” The Leopard did not know he had exchanged his own children for drums.

On their way home they played and sang in many towns, and received goats and pigs as presents for their entertainment. On reaching their town the Gazelle hurried to his house, and sent off his wife and children to hide.

The Leopard went to his house, and, looking round, he asked his wife: “Where are my children?” “Why, you sent the Gazelle for them,” she replied; "and now you ask: ‘Where are the children?’" The Leopard went in great rage to the Gazelle’s house, but the Gazelle ran away, and as he was escaping, he cried out: “I am the wise Gazelle who has outwitted your craftiness.”