All Africans are great story-tellers. At night round the fire, when darkness covers the land and the boys appetites are appeased, many are the tales told. Let me translate one or two for you.

The Story of Naling’ang’a

Long ago there lived a man named Naling’ang’a. He was a very foolish man, for he smoked bhang, and the fumes of this deadly weed had run off with all his wisdom. One day the chief of the village in which Naling’ang’a lived ordered all the people into his gardens to hoe for him, so that the maize might not “walk” with the grass—that it, might not be overgrown.

All the people obeyed the chief’s words and went early in the morning to the gardens, followed by the chief himself. But Naling’ang’a lingered on in the village to have a morning pipe of his favourite bhang. Afterwards, when all the people were already in the gardens hoeing away under the eye of the chief, Naling’ang’a came on alone. On his way he crossed over a stream and arrived at the plain near which were the chief’s gardens.

Lying on the side of the path was an old skull that had been there for many a day, and which Naling’ang’a had often passed. But to-day, because he had been smoking bhang, he was annoyed at it, and took the handle of his hoe and struck the skull, saying, “Tell me, what killed you?” To his horror the skull moved, and said, “My tongue killed me.”

Poor Naling’ang’a was dreadfully afraid, and his knees shook under him hearing this dead thing speak so. But he plucked up courage and struck it again to see if it was really true, and again the skull spoke the same words. Being unable to stand it any longer, for his courage at this second exhibition had deserted him, he turned and fled as fast as his tottering legs could carry him to where the people were digging in the chief’s gardens, and lost no time in telling his story.

At first the people refused to believe him, but because of his earnestness and his frightened condition the chief ordered all the people to stop hoeing, and follow him back to the plain where he, the chief, would himself see this wonderful thing. Arrived at the spot the people stood round about in a frightened circle with Naling’ang’a and the chief in the centre. Naling’ang’a was brave now because of the crowd of people and, lifting his hoe, struck the poor skull a violent blow, saying, “Tell me, what killed you?” But the skull answered not a word. Again and again he struck it and demanded it to tell, but never a word spoke it.

The people saw now that they had been deceived, and the chief was mad with rage at having been made appear foolish before the eyes of the people and at the loss of time from the hoeing. So he ordered poor Naling’ang’a to be put to death there and then, and his head to be cut off and thrown beside the skull as a warning to all to speak the truth.

When the execution was over and the people had all departed the skull turned round to poor Naling’ang’a’s head, and said, “My friend, Naling’ang’a, tell me, what killed you?” And Naling’ang’a replied, “My tongue.” “As with me,” said the skull, “my tongue caused a great quarrel and the people killed me.”

The Story of the Freeman and his Slaves

There was a freeman that had many slaves and he went with them on a journey. When they were on the journey the slaves sent the freeman, saying, “Go for water.” But he refused, and the slaves themselves went and drew water. When they returned with the water the freeman said, “Give me some water to drink.” But the slaves refused, saying, “We don’t want you to drink our water. Go to the well and draw water for yourself.” So the freeman had to go to the well himself. When he was about to drink, the slaves pushed him into the water and killed him. But a drop of blood leapt upwards and fell on a leaf of a tree, and thereupon became a bird and sang:—

“Ku! Ku! Ku!”

The slaves got ready for their journey, but the bird went before them and came to the village, and said, “They killed me. Make beer when the strangers come.” When the slaves entered the house to drink the beer the people set fire to the house and burned them.

The Story of the Children and the Serpent

There was a certain man that hoed his garden, and said, “Now that I have hoed my garden, what shall I do? These children finish the food in the garden.” Then he went to look for bark and made a rope out of it and put it into the garden. When the children said, “Let us steal,” the rope became a serpent that drove off the children, who ran to the village, and said, “Father, in the garden yonder there is a snake.” And he said, “Let us go there and see.” When they came to the garden the father said, “Look now, that is a rope. You thought it was a snake. Is it that you were stealing the maize? You must never do so again.”

Such are African fairy tales, but there is a very great difference between a written story and one told by word of mouth. The teller stands up and, with hands going and eyes rolling and body bending backwards and forwards, imitates whatever birds or beasts, their calls and their cries, there are in his tale. At intervals he sings out a line or two of chorus, which is taken up by the audience and sung with great delight. Many additions are made in the spoken tale, and the written one is but the shadow of the other.