African Folktales (2)

6. Grasshopper and Toad:

Grasshopper and Toad appeared to be good friends. People always saw them together. Yet they had never dined at each other's houses. One day Toad said to Grasshopper, "Dear friend, tomorrow come and dine at my house. My wife and I will prepare a special meal. We will eat it together."

The next day Grasshopper arrived at Toad's house. Before sitting down to eat, Toad washed his forelegs, and invited Grasshopper to do the same. Grasshopper did so, and it made a loud noise.
"Friend Grasshopper, can't you leave your chirping behind. I cannot eat with such a noise," said Toad.
Grasshopper tried to eat without rubbing his forelegs together, but it was impossible. Each time he gave a chirp, Toad complained and asked him to be quiet. Grasshopper was angry and could not eat. Finally, he said to Toad: "I invite you to my house for dinner, tomorrow."
The next day, Toad arrived at Grasshopper's home. As soon as the meal was ready, Grasshopper washed his forelegs, and invited Toad to do the same. Toad did so, and then hopped toward the food.
"You had better go back and wash again," said Grasshopper. "All that hopping in the dirt has made your forelegs dirty again."
Toad hopped back to the water jar, washed again, then hopped back to the table, and was ready to reach out for some food from one of the platters when Grasshopper stopped him: "Please dorit put your dirty paws into the food. Go and wash them again."
Toad was furious. "You just don't want me to eat with you!" he cried. "You know very well that I must use my paws and forelegs in hopping about. I cannot help it if they get a bit dirty between the water jar and the table."

Grasshopper responded, "You are the one who started it yesterday. You know I cannot rub my forelegs together without making a noise."
From then on, they were no longer friends.
Moral: If you wish to have true friendship with someone, learn to accept each other's faults, as well as each other's good qualities.


7. The red and blue coat:

Once there were two boys who were great friends, and they were determined to remain that way forever. When they grew up and got married, they built their houses facing one another. There was a small path that formed a border between their farms.

One day, a trickster from the village decided to play a trick on them. He dressed himself in a two-color coat that was divided down the middle. So, one side of the coat was red, and the other side was blue.
The trickster wore this coat and walked along the narrow path between the houses of the two friends. They were each working opposite each other in their fields. The trickster made enough noise as he passed them to make sure that each of them would look up and see him passing.
At the end of the day, one friend said to the other, "Wasn't that a beautiful red coat that man was wearing today?"
"No", the other replied. "It was a blue coat."
"I saw the man clearly as he walked between us!" said the first, "His coat was red."
"You are wrong!" said the other man, "I saw it too, and it was blue."
"I know what I saw!" insisted the first man. "The coat was red!"
"You don't know anything," the second man replied angrily. "It was blue!"
They kept arguing about this over and over, insulted each other, and eventually, they began to beat each other and roll around on the ground.
Just then, the trickster returned and faced the two men, who were punching and kicking each other and shouting, "Our friendship is OVER!"
The trickster walked directly in front of them, and showed them his coat. He laughed at their silly fight. The two friends saw this his coat was red on one side and blue on the other.
The two friends stopped fighting and screamed at the trickster saying, "We have lived side by side like brothers all our lives, and it is all your fault that we are fighting. You have started a war between us."
"Don't blame me for the battle," replied the trickster. "I did not make you fight. Both of you are wrong, and both of you are right. Yes, what each one saw was true. You are fighting because you only looked at my coat from your own point of view."


8. The two friends:



Two boys were born on the very same day in an African tribe, and they grew up to be firm friends. Ndemi was the rich one. Jinjo was poor. They looked so alike that nobody could tell the one from the other.

After spending his youth in the usual tribal pursuits - grass cutting, hunting of hares, mice and rats, and later bigger game - Ndemi had a yearning to see something of the world outside. It was only natural that he should ask his poor friend to go along with him.
When they reached the next village, Ndemi was so dazzled by the beauty of a most lovely girl called Malama that he immediately asked her to marry him, adding, "I would be prepared to give a hundred cattle for such loveliness."
"My father is Chief of the village," she replied, "and it is his wish that I should marry a man capable of doing superhuman things. He sets a task for my suitors, such a difficult one that I fear I shall grow old without ever being married."
To the Chief the young man said, "Sir, I wish to marry your daughter, surely the most beautiful woman in the whole of Africa. Tell me what to do and it shall be done. Where others have failed, I shall succeed, because my love for your daughter is boundless."
But the young man became despondent when the Chief told him what his task would be. Guarded by an old woman, he would have to spend six days and six nights in a hut - without any food or water to sustain him. And if he did not succeed, if he cried for food or water before the time was up, he would be killed. So consumed with love was he that he accepted the conditions.
They put him in a prison-like hut that had no windows. And in the long and narrow doorway, the old woman slept on her mat like a human watchdog. Ndemi put his bed-mat against the wall that faced the street, and so the first long day crawled slowly from sunrise to sunset.
When the night was dark and the villagers asleep, Ndemi's prearranged plan came into operation. After wetting the wall, Jinjo made a small hole in it with his knife, and through this hole he quietly pushed a hollow reed, dipping its end into the calabash of water. On the other end, Ndemi was able to drink the sweet, life-giving liquid without even rising from his mat, and when the calabash was drained, Jinjo removed the reed, plastered the wall with mud to hide the hole, and quietly stole off into the darkness.
Every night he did this, while the old woman became more and more suspicious, for no previous suitor had lasted more than three days before crying for food and water. On the fifth night she commanded Ndemi to sleep against the other wall of the hut while she lay down on his bed-mat. For the first time in his life the young man knew fear.
While the village was sleeping and the bullfrogs croaked down at the river, the old woman heard a soft scraping noise and after a few minutes a hollow reed poked through and she drank the water from Jinjo's calabash. In triumph she shouted, 'So that's how you've sustained yourself these past five days - by cheating! The Chief will hear of this in the morning, my own calabash filled with water will be the evidence that will end your life.'
Jinjo heard this as he withdrew the reed with trembling fingers. He also heard his friend weeping with sorrow, and he knew a mingling of sadness and fear. Stealing back into the darkness, he wondered how he could help the friend who was to him as a brother.
Suddenly a voice came squeaking out of the darkness: "Young man, you are worried. Can I be of assistance?" Jinjo looked hard in all directions but could not see anybody. "Look down," squeaked the voice, "I am Davyaga, the rat. Tell me your problem and I will try to find a solution."
When Jinjo had told his tale, Davyaga said, "Leave it to me. You sleep well tonight. Your friend is no longer in danger." And he was gone, rustling through the dry grass. Reaching the old woman's hut, Davyaga gnawed a hole through the wall, and while the old woman went on sleeping, a horrible leer of triumph creasing her face, he pushed the calabash through the hole where his friends, the white ants, stood waiting in rows, drawn up like soldiers on a parade-ground. When they had finished eating the calabash, not even the smallest chip remained.
The sun came up and the old woman found that she had no evidence, and as nobody would believe her fantastic story, Ndemi was able to marry Malama and take her back to his village with him. There his father built a house for them, and a house for the poor Jinjo. To Ndemi and Jinjo, he gave magic knives, made by the giants in the far-off mountains and so alike that nobody could possibly tell the difference between them. "One day you will need the magic of the knives," he said to them.
After some months Jinjo the poor one, announced that he had a desire to travel to a faraway village and find a wife for himself so that he could be as radiantly happy as Malama and Ndemi. But first he planted a silk-cotton tree, and said that he would leave when it was as high as his knee.
When the tree had grown and he was about to set off on his travels, he said to Ndemi, "See how it flowers, this cotton-seed tree of mine that I planted in a hole cut out by magic knife given me by your father. If these leaves become withered and dry, it will be a sign that I am either dead or in the most desperate trouble. Good-bye, and may your happiness grow during my absence."
For days he traveled across plains until he could see in the distance a village. Approaching, he heard the sound of weeping and wailing, a vast sad sound coming from the throats of hundreds of people. And just ahead of him he could see a lonely girl sitting in the dry riverbed. She was as beautiful as Malama, and he was in love with her before he even came close to ask her what was causing the misery in the village.
"The River God is cruel and demanding. So the river flows only when a young girl is sacrificed. One by one, all the young maidens have been devoured by the River God, and now it is my turn, I, Kalima, the daughter of the chief, for I am the last one left, and my people will die without the water that only my sacrifice will bring them. So go away and leave me, before the River God comes at sunset to devour me.
But Jinjo refused to go, for what man will leave the woman he loves when she is in danger? All day he sat with her, telling her of his love for her, and how he would take her back to his village as his wife after he dealt with the cruel River God.
As the sun sank, there was a rumbling in the sand near them, and out of the earth came the biggest snake Jinjo had ever seen. It was as thick as the mighty baobab tree, and the young man was filled with fear, but he dashed forward and with a sweep of his magic knife he cut off the monster's head. Water came gushing out of the huge headless snake, and even as it tried to slither back into its hole Jinjo was cutting it into pieces. Out of each piece the water flowed unceasingly. Laughing with joy and relief, Jinjo and Kalima ran out of the river-bed as it filled with the sweet life-giving water until the river was flowing through the village and the thirsty villagers were drinking greedily.
Of course, Kalima and Jinjo married immediately, but because she had - according to tribal law - already been sacrificed to the River God and therefore no longer really living - they had to build their hut some distance from the village. This did not worry them, as they were able to entertain their friends in their hut, and many grateful villagers came to pass the time of day with them.
A few weeks after the marriage there was an astonishing happening. Every piece of meat in the village - chops, steaks, even sausage sizzling in the pan - suddenly jumped up and ran towards the distant hill. The young man could not believe his eyes. Never before had he seen meat actually running.
"This happens quite often," Kalima explained to him. "The meat runs to that distant hill. It swallows the meat, and will do the same, it is said, to anybody who goes near the mighty rock at its foot. This has never happened, for all are afraid of that rock and never go close enough to be engulfed ."
A few days later Jinjo went hunting with ten young men from the village. Seeing an antelope, they gave chase, and in their excitement kept running even when the animal passed the dreaded rock, which opened its stony mouth wide and swallowed them all.
At that very moment, many miles away, Ndemi happened to be standing at the cotton-seed tree planted by Jinjo and now as high as his chest. Even as he looked, the leaves withered and dried up, and he knew that his friend was either dead or in great danger. He set out immediately.
Three days later he reached the hut where Kalima and Jinjo lived. He looked so much so much like Jinjo that Kalima thought her husband had returned from the hunt.
"Three days you have been gone," she cried. "You must have hunted many animals for the pots of the villagers." "Yes," he replied, pretending to be Jinjo so that she would not be alarmed. "It was a splendid hunt and we were very successful, but I must go away again immediately, for a great herd of buffalo is moving across the plain and we need all the meat we can get before the winter comes on."
And in spite of her pleadings, he ran to the village and spoke with the chief who said sadly to him, "Of course, we haven't told Kalima what happened, but ten young men and Jinjo have disappeared. They haven't been seen for three days and it is believed that they were swallowed up by the rock on the sacred hill."
"Jinjo is my dearest friend," said Ndemi. "I must rescue him. Let some young men guide me to this abominable rock and I shall see what I can do." They tried to dissuade him, but he was persistent, and ten young hunters led him to the rock. "There it is," they said. "We admire your bravery, but we ourselves are too afraid to go any farther."
Ndemi strode up to the rock, and the watchers saw it bending over to swallow him. But he stabbed at it with his magic knife, and the watchers cheered as the rock broke into two halves, and the ten lost hunters and Jinjo marched out, singing, laughing, happy to be back with their friends in the sunlight again.
"Which one is my husband?" cried Kalima as the two young men, looking exactly alike, stood before her.
"I am your husband," said Jinjo, "and this is my dear friend Ndemi who saved us all." And he told her of their friendship and adventures together, and how Ndemi had come to help him when the cotton-seed tree's leaves withered and dried up.
"Such likeness!" she cried. "Such friendship and devotion! How truly wonderful it is and how proud I am of both of you."
They went back home with Ndemi, built a house near his, and the two young men and Malama and Kalima remained dear friends for the rest of their long lives.


9. The leopard man:



A handsome stranger once came into a certain village and strolled about among the people in mysterious silence. All the maidens admired him and wished that he would choose one of them for his bride. But he said nothing, and at last walked away into the forest and disappeared from sight.

A month later the stranger came again, and this time one of the maidens fell so much in love with him that she resolved to follow him into the forest, as she could not bear to be separated from him.
When the stranger looked back and saw her coming behind him, he stopped, and begged her to return home; but she would not, and exclaimed, "I will never leave you, and wherever you go, I will follow."
"Beautiful maiden, you will regret it," replied the stranger sadly, as he hurried on.
After a while he stopped again, and once more begged her to retrace her steps. But she made the same reply, and again the handsome stranger said in sorrowful tones, "You will regret it, beautiful maiden!"
They went far into the depths of the forest, and at length reached a tree at the foot of which there lay a leopard skin.
Standing under the tree, the stranger began to sing a melancholy song, in which he told her that though he was allowed once a month to wander about in villages and towns like a man, he was in reality a savage leopard and would rend her in pieces as soon as he regained his natural form.
With these words he flung himself upon the ground, and immediately become a snarling leopard and began to pursue the terrified girl.
But fear gave such speed to her feet that he could not overtake her. As he pursued her he sang that he would tear her in small pieces, and she in another song replied that he would never overtake her.
For a great distance they ran, and then the maiden suddenly came to a deep but narrow river, which she could not cross. It seemed as if the leopard would catch her after all. But a tree, which stood on the riverbank, took pity on her and fell across the river, so that she was able to cross.
At last, nearly exhausted, she came to the edge of the forest and reached the village in safety. The leopard, disappointed of its prey, slunk back into the forest, and the handsome stranger was never seen again.


10. Why the sun and the moon live in the sky:



Many years ago, the sun and water were great friends, and they both lived on the earth togther. The sun very often used to visit the water, but the water never returned the visits.

At last the sun asked the water why he never visited. The water replied that the sun's house was not big enough, and that if he came with all his people, he would drive the sun out of his home.
The water then said, "If you want me to visit you, you will have to build a very large house. But I warn you that it will have to be very large, as my people are numerous and take up a lot of room".
The sun promised to build a very large house, and soon afterwards, he returned home to his wife, the moon, who greeted him with a broad smile.
The sun told the moon what he had promised the water, and the next day, they began building a large house to entertain the water and all his people.
When it was completed, the sun asked the water to come and visit him.
When the water arrived, one of his people called out to the sun, and asked him whether it would be safe for the water to enter, and the sun answered, "Yes, tell my friend to come in."
The water began to flow in, followed by the fish and all the other water animals.
Very soon, the water was knee-deep in the house, so he asked the sun if it was still safe, and the sun again said, "Yes," so more of them came in.
When the water was at the level of a man's head, the water said to the sun, "Do you want more of my people to come?"
Not knowing any better, the sun and the moon both said, "Yes,". More and more of the water's people came in, until the sun and the moon had to sit on top of the roof.
The water once again asked the sun if it was still okay to keep coming in. The sun and moon answered yes, so more and more of the water's people came in.
The water soon overflowed the top of the roof, and the sun and the moon were forced to go up into the sky.
...and they have been there ever since.

African Folktales (1)

1. Clever Jackal gets Away:

"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!



2. The Lion and the Jackal:

The Lion and the Jackal agreed to hunt on shares, for the purpose of laying in a stock of meat for the winter months for their families.


As the Lion was by far the more expert hunter of the two, the Jackal suggested that he (himself) should be employed in transporting the game to their dens, and that Mrs. Jackal and the little Jackals should prepare and dry the meat, adding that they would take care that Mrs. Lion and her family should not want.
This was agreed to by the Lion, and the hunt commenced.
After a very successful hunt, which lasted for some time, the Lion returned to see his family, and also to enjoy, as he thought, a plentiful supply of his spoil; when, to his utter surprise, he found Mrs. Lion and all the young Lions on the point of death from sheer hunger, and in a mangy state. The Jackal, it appeared, had only given them a few entrails of the game, and in such limited quantities as barely to keep them alive; always telling them that they (i. e., the Lion and himself) had been most unsuccessful in their hunting; while his own family was reveling in abundance, and each member of it was sleek and fat.
This was too much for the Lion to bear. He immediately started off in a terrible fury, vowing certain death to the Jackal and all his family, wherever he should meet them. The Jackal was more or less prepared for a storm, and had taken the precaution to remove all his belongings to the top of a krantz (i. e., a cliff), accessible only by a most difficult and circuitous path, which he alone knew.
When the Lion saw him on the krantz, the Jackal immediately greeted him by calling out,
Good morning, Uncle Lion."
"How dare you call me uncle, you impudent scoundrel," roared out the Lion, in a voice of thunder," after the way in which you have behaved to my family?"
"Oh, Uncle! How shall I explain matters? That beast of a wife of mine!" Whack, whack was heard, as he beat with a stick on dry hide, which was a mere pretence for Mrs. Jackal's back; while that lady was preinstructed to scream whenever he operated on the hide, which she did with a vengeance, joined by the little Jackals, who set up a most doleful chorus. "That wretch!" said the Jackal. "It is all her doing. I shall kill her straight off," and away he again belabored the hide, while his wife and children uttered such a dismal howl that the Lion begged of him to leave off flogging his wife. After cooling down a little, he invited Uncle Lion to come up and have something to eat. The Lion, after several ineffectual attempts to scale the precipice, had to give it up.
The Jackal, always ready for emergencies, suggested that a reim should be lowered to haul up his uncle. This was agreed to, and when the Lion was drawn about halfway up by the whole family of Jackals, the reim was cleverly cut, and down went the Lion with a tremendous crash which hurt him very much. Upon this, the Jackal again performed upon the hide with tremendous force, for their daring to give him such a rotten reim, and Mrs. Jackal and the little ones responded with some fearful screams and yells. He then called loudly out to his wife for a strong buffalo reim which would support any weight. This again was lowered and fastened to the Lion, when all bands pulled away at their uncle; and, just when he had reached so far that he could look over the precipice into the pots to see all the fat meat cooking, and all the biltongs hanging out to dry, the reim was again cut, and the poor Lion fell with such force that he was fairly stunned for some time. After the Lion had recovered his senses, the Jackal, in a most sympathizing tone, suggested that he was afraid that it was of no use to attempt to haul him up onto the precipice, and recommended, instead, that a nice fat piece of eland's breast be roasted and dropped into the Lion's mouth. The Lion, half famished with hunger, and much bruised, readily accepted the offer, and sat eagerly awaiting the fat morsel.
In the mean time, the Jackal had a round stone made red-hot, and wrapped a quantity of inside fat, or suet, round it, to make it appear like a ball of fat. When the Lion saw it held out, he opened his capacious mouth to the utmost extent, and the wily Jackal cleverly dropped the hot ball right into it, which ran through the poor old beast, killing him on the spot.
It need hardly be told that there was great rejoicing on the precipice that night.


3. The Man eho never Lied:

Once upon a time there lived a wise man by the name of Mamad. He never lied. All the people in the land, even the ones who lived twenty days away, knew about him.

The king heard about Mamad and ordered his subjects to bring him to the palace. He looked at the wise man and asked:
" Mamad, is it true, that you have never lied?"
" It's true."
"And you will never lie in your life?"
" I'm sure in that."
"Okay, tell the truth, but be careful! The lie is cunning and it gets on your tongue easily."
Several days passed and the king called Mamad once again. There was a big crowd: the king was about to go hunting. The king held his horse by the mane, his left foot was already on the stirrup. He ordered Mamad:
"Go to my summer palace and tell the queen I will be with her for lunch. Tell her to prepare a big feast. You will have lunch with me then."
Mamad bowed down and went to the queen. Then the king laughed and said:
"We won't go hunting and now Mamad will lie to the queen. Tomorrow we will laugh on his behalf."
But the wise Mamad went to the palace and said:
"Maybe you should prepare a big feast for lunch tomorrow, and maybe you shouldn't. Maybe the king will come by noon, and maybe he won't."
"Tell me will he come, or won't he?" - asked the queen.
"I don't know weather he put his right foot on the stirrup, or he put his left foot on the ground after I left."
Everybody waited for the king. He came the next day and said to the queen:
"The wise Mamad, who never lies, lied to you yesterday."
But the queen told him about the words of Mamad. And the king realized, that the wise man never lies, and says only that, which he saw with his own eyes.


4. Why the Cheetah's cheeks are stained:

"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.


5. Why the Warthog goes about on his knees:

"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.