[125] I found this proverb cited in Daudet’s article on Tourguèneff in the November Century [1883]. The accentuation was incorrect. Moun, or moune, Creole form of French monde, is generally used to signify people in general—folks—not the world.

[126] Thomas gives us a briefer Trinidad version: Si zandoli té bon viâne, le pas sé ka drivé (il ne se trouverait pas): “If a lizard were good meat, it wouldn’t easily be found.”

[127] A proverb common to all the dialects. In uttering it, with emphatic gesture, the negro signifies that there is no pride which will not be at last brought down, no grandeur which will not have an end.

[128] M. Baissac tells us, in a very amusing way, how this proverb originated at the time of the negro emancipation in Mauritius, when 30,000 pairs of new shoes were distributed. Another saying, equally characteristic, was—“Lhère li entré dans vous lacase, souliers dans lipieds; lhére li dans grand cimin, souliers dans mouçoirs”:—(When he enters your house, his shoes are on his feet; but once he is on the public road, they are in his handkerchief.)

[129] Tafia is the rum extracted from sugar-cane. “In vino veritas.”

[130] In Louisiana Creole, faire di-train is commonly used in the sense of making a great noise, a big fuss. An old negro-servant might often be heard reproving the children of the house in some such fashion as this:—“Ga!—pouki tapé fait tou di-train la?—Toulé pé?—pas fait tou di-train mo di toi!” (“Here, what are you making all that noise for?—are you going to keep quiet?—musn’t make so much noise, I tell you!”)

[131] This proverb is the retort for the phrase: “So much the worse for you.” Sometimes one might hear a colored servant for example, warning the children of the house to keep out of the kitchen, which in Creole residences usually opens into the great court-yard where the little ones play: Eh, pitis! faut pas restér là: vous ka casser tout! (“Hey! little ones, musn’t stay there: you’ll break everything!”) If the father or mother should then exclaim “Tant pis pour eux!”—so much the worse for them if they do break everything, you would hear the old woman reply: “Tant-pis n’a pas cabane!”—“So-much-the-worse has no cabin”—i.e., nothing to lose. She believes in an ounce of prevention rather than a pound of cure.

[132] When a person has once given us positive evidence of his true character, we do not need any information as to what that person will do under certain circumstances.

[133] Literally the proverb is almost untranslateable. It is cited to those who express needless apprehension of future misfortune. “Mo va gagnin malhé”—(I am going to have trouble.) “Aïe, aïe! chère!—temps present gagnin assez comme ça avec so quonne.” (Ah, my dear! the present has enough trouble of its own.)

[134] “Pigs might fly,” etc.

[135] Thomas translates cajou, by “cedar.” Acajou in French, signifies mahogany, as it does also in Louisiana Creole. There is an old song, of which the refrain is:

(“My darling mahogany jewel, I love you!”)

[136] Whenever a thing is badly done, this saying is used;—commerce in the Creole signifying almost the reverse of what it does in French. Who that traditional Man Lison was, I have never been able to find out.

[137] This ridiculous observation is unsuitable for translation. Nevertheless we have an English, or perhaps an American, proverb equally vulgar, which may have inspired, or been derived from, the Creole one. In the English saying, the words “joking” and “provoking” are used as rhymes. The moral is precisely similar to that of No. 322.

In old days the Creole story-teller would always announce his intention of beginning a tale by the exclamation “Tim-tim!” whereupon the audience would shout in reply, “Bois sec;” and the story-teller would cry again, “Cassez-li,” to which the chorus would add “. . . . dans tchu (bonda) macaque.” Thus the story-teller intimated that he had no intention of merely “joking,” but intended to tell the whole truth and nothing else—“a real good story”—tois fois bonne conte!

[138] In Thomas’s Trinidad version: “Tout moune connaite ça qui ka bouï nans canari yeaux.” In Louisiana Creole: “Chakin connin ça kapé bouilli dans so chodière.” Canari is sometimes used in our Creole, but rarely. I have only heard it in old songs. The iron pot (chodière) or tin utensil has superseded the canari.

[139] This proverb is scarcely suitable for English translation; but the forcible and picturesque irony of it will be appreciated in M. Baissac’s explanatory note: “Comment se l’expliquer autrement, en dehors du mariage?”

[140] Same signification as Prov. 138.

[141] Probably truer to human nature than our questionable statement concerning “honor among thieves.” Mr. Bigelow, in his contribution to Harper’s Magazine, cited a similar proverb in the Haytian dialect.

[142] “Teach your granny to suck eggs.”

[143] Quimbé is a verb of African origin. It survives in Louisiana Creole as tchombé or chombo:

[“Caroline, pretty woman; put your arm about my neck!”—lit.: “take me by the neck.”]

There are other African words used by the older colored women, such as macayé, meaning to eat at all hours; and Ouendé, of which the sense is dubious. But the Congo verb fifa, to kiss; and the verbs souyé, to flatter; pougalé, to abuse violently; and such nouns as saff (glutton), yche or iche (baby), which are preserved in other Creole dialects, are apparently unknown in Louisiana to-day.

In Chas. Jeannest’s work, Quatre Années au Congo [Paris: Charpentier, 1883], I find a scanty vocabulary of words in the Fiot dialect, the native dialect of many slaves imported into Louisiana and the West Indies. In this vocabulary the word ouenda is translated by “partir pour.” I fancy it also signifies “to be absent,” and that it is synonymous with our Louisiana African-Creole ouendé, preserved in the song:

This is one of the very few songs with a purely African refrain still sung in New Orleans. The theme seems to be that, the master and mistress of a house being absent, some slave is encouraging a slave-friend to eat excessively, to “stuff himself” with wine, chicken, etc. “They are gone, friend: eat, fill yourself; I’m not a bit ashamed; stuff yourself!—I’m drinking good wine; stuff yourself!—I’m eating good chicken; gorge yourself,” etc. Here ouendé seems to mean “they are out; they are gone away,”—therefore there is no danger.

There is another Creole song with the same kind of double refrain, but the meaning of the African words I have not been able to discover.

[“Nicholas, etc., you are a turkey-cock! Nicholas walks ouaminon: when he walks, it is ouarasi, ouarasa.”] The idea is obvious enough; viz.: that Nicholas struts like a turkey-cock; but the precise signification of the three italicised words I have failed to learn.

[144] Seems to be the same in all Creole dialects, excepting that the rabbit is sometimes substituted for the sheep.

[145] Béké is translated by blanc in Turiault’s work; but the witty author of Les Bambous writes: Nèg se dit pour esclave, et béké pour maître. Therefore perhaps a more correct translation would be: “The master’s eyes burn the slave’s eyes.” The phrase recalls a curious refrain which used to be sung by Louisiana field-hands:

[“All, all the country white” (white-man’s country); “Daniel has so commanded,” etc.] I do not know whether the prophet Daniel is referred to.

[146] In the Guyane patois, they say: “Ça qui gadé gran boi yé kôlé pa brûlé yé.” (Celui qui regarde les grands bois avec des yeux colères ne les brûle pas.)