How the Spider Got a Bald Head
We do not really mean, we do not really mean, (that what we are going to say is true).
THEY say that Kwaku Ananse, the Spider, and his wife Aso were once living there. One day, they had gone and returned from the plantation; soon after, a messenger came. Ananse asked him his business. He said, “The only news is that your mother-in-law lay down yesterday and has not risen up.” Ananse said, “Aso, this matter is your affair.” Aso placed her hands upon her head and wept, pue! pue! Ananse gave her permission (to go to the funeral). Next day, when things became visible, Ananse went and begged Odwan, the Sheep, Okra, the Cat, Okraman, the Dog, Akoko, the Fowl, and Aberekyie, the Goat, saying, “This is what I have seen, I beseech you therefore to accompany me to my mother-in-law’s funeral.” All these people agreed. Ananse (then) came to his house, and sewed a hat of leopard’s skin, and dyed his cloth a russet-brown colour. When Thursday arrived, he went and called all the people whom he had begged (to accompany him), and all set out. They took drums and guns and palm-wine. Ananse came to the outskirts of his mother-in-law’s village; the guns were firing pom! pom! They took the dance-party and went to sit down at the house where the wake was being held. He gave wine to the mourners. When he had finished, he went and presented his nsa contribution to the funeral expenses, six peredwan weight of gold dust (i. e. £48), a velvet pillow, two cloths, a woollen blanket, shell money (for use in the land of ghosts), a sheep, and palm-wine. That was the contribution the Spider made towards burying his mother-in-law. When evening fell cool, they came and raised the Spider’s bottom with an asuanu and nsano’s weight of gold dust (£4 13s.). Next day, when things became visible, every one again partook of food, and they came and told the Spider that he might eat. He replied, “I, Kwaku, my mother-in-law has died; I do not eat on the eighth day of a funeral ceremony. I shall not eat, but get something for my friends, with whom I came, to eat, and let them go.” So Aso went off to search for something to bring these men to eat. So they went off, and Ananse was left. There the Spider was, and now the fourth day came, and try as he would, he could bear it no longer. Now, in the house where he was staying, beans which they were boiling, stood on the fire. Ananse looked all round to see if any one was looking, then he took off his leopard-skin hat, picked out some beans and put them in it, and put it on again. Just then Aso came in. He said, “Aso, I have just remembered that at my father’s village, the hat-shaking festival has come (and is being held), so I am going off at once.” Aso said, “Oh, what is the reason you did not tell me all this before, moreover, since you came to this funeral celebration, you have not eaten at all; so I implore you to go to-morrow.” Ananse said, “You don’t know what has come, that’s why you talk as you do.” Aso went off to call the people that they might come and tell Ananse to delay his departure. The people came. No sooner did Ananse see them, than he caught hold of his hat (and began to sing):
“Just now at my father’s village they are shaking hats.
Saworowa,
They are shaking hats.
Saworowa,
E, they are shaking hats, o, they are shaking hats.
Saworowa.”
Now (all this was because) the beans were burning his head right well. Ananse said, “I shall never agree (to stay), I shall go.” The Spider set off down the path, and the people followed behind him. He said, “Turn back, because:
Just now at my father’s village they are shaking hats.
Saworowa,
They are shaking hats.
E, they are shaking hats, o, they are shaking hats.
Saworowa.”
By now these things (the beans) were burning him, so that he was made to know the real meaning of burning. Try as he would, he could no longer bear it. He threw away the hat and beans. Aso and the people hooted at him. Ananse leapt into the path, sora! (was the sound of the parting-grass). He said, “Path, receive me, and one day when I come into my own, I shall thank you (suitably).” The Path said, “I have heard.” The Path looked after him and gave him medicine. That is why you will see Ananse with a bald head kwati; it came about from the airs he gave himself at the funeral of his mother-in-law.
This, my story, which I have related, if it be sweet, (or) if it be not sweet, some you may take as true, and the rest you may praise me (for telling of it).
They Say When You Go Elsewhere, Return Home Quickly
We do not really mean, we do not really mean, (that what we are going to say is true).
THERE was once a certain girl called Abena, and her kinsfolk gave her in marriage. She went off to the husband’s village, and forgot all about her own blood-relations; she did not want to come back to her village. Some one else’s village was good enough for her. There she was (away from her own home), and her mother died; again, her father died; yet again, her grandmother died; she did not return for any single one (of their funerals). It would be about ten years, and yet she never came home. Now, one day, there was Abena, when a bird came and stood on the house and said:
“Abena’s mother has died, father has died, grandmother has died!
The guns are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! The drums are beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun!
The women are weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo!
Abena’s mother is dead, father is dead, grandmother is dead!”
Abena said, “What kind of a matter is this?” Not long after her husband came along; she told him what had happened; and again the bird cried. The husband said, “I do not quite understand, so I shall go and call the Hare.” He called him and made him come; and again the bird lifted up (its voice):
“Abena’s mother has died, father has died, grandmother has died!
The guns are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! The drums are beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun!
The women are weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo!
Abena’s mother is dead, father is dead, grandmother is dead!”
The Hare said, “One of my ears has heard, there still remains one.” And the bird cried:
“Abena’s mother has died, father has died, grandmother has died!
The guns are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! are firing, pom! pomm! The drums are beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun! beating, kun! kun!
The women are weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo! weeping, yo! yo!
Abena’s mother is dead, father is dead, grandmother is dead!”
The Hare said, “O! O! he says your mother is dead, your father is dead, your grandmother also is dead.” Now Abena placed her hands upon her head and wept, “Pue! oh mother! oh grandmother! oh father!” She set out and came to her village; but her home was desolate, pasa! That is why they say, “If you go on the road, cut it short.” For Abena did as has been related, and allowed all her kinsfolk to die in her absence.
This, my story, which I have related, if it be sweet, (or) if it be not sweet, some you may take as true, and the rest you may praise me (for telling of it).
How It Came About That One Person Does Not Reveal the Origin from Which Another Person Sprang
We do not really mean, we do not really mean, (that what we are going to say is true).
THERE was once a hunter. When he got up he used to go to the bush to seek for game to kill, that he might get some to eat, and some to sell. Now one day he went to the bush; he heard Kokotee, the Bush-pig, call out to its kinsman, saying, “Kokotee Asamoa e!” He replied, “Yes, brother, yes.” He (the first pig) said, “The time for work (on our farms) has arrived, so let us go to the blacksmith’s forge, for him to fashion the iron and put an edge on (our cutting tools), so that, if we have to cut down any trees, we may be able to cut them.” When the Bush-pig called his brothers, the hunter crouched hiding, and he heard all the conversation. Now the brother of the (first) Bush-pig asked his brother Bush-pig, saying, “And what village shall we go to, to have the iron struck?” He replied, “We shall go to the village called Across-the-stream.” And he said, “What day?” He replied, “Monday.” The hunter heard all this arrangement, and set off for home. Now, when he came home, he told the head-man of Across-the-stream the news, namely, what he had heard when he had gone to the bush. And the hunter said to the Head-man of the village, “Let the children go and cut logs and bring them, and when, on Monday, the Bush-pigs change themselves (into people) and come, we shall take them and fasten them to the logs.” The children went and cut the logs, and brought them. The Head-of-the-village went and told the village blacksmith to beat out iron staples for him. And the blacksmith asked the Head-man, saying, “And all this huge quantity of iron staples, which you say I must beat out, what are you going to do with them?” And he told him the news, how a hunter had gone to the bush, and come back to report that on Monday certain beasts would turn themselves into people, in order to come to his forge to have tools forged. The blacksmith ran off to beat out the iron staples quickly. As soon as the chief had finished laying his hands on the logs and staples, he caused the town-crier to beat the iron gong, saying, “On Monday, be it woman, or be it man, no one must go anywhere.” Monday arrived, and in the morning an old woman told the hunter, saying, “Go and grind peppers, and salt, and onions, and the place where the beasts will peel off their skins and lay them down; do you also, when you go there, take the peppers and rub them on, and when the beasts come here, and when we catch them, and should some escape and go to take their skins, and put them on, when the peppers hurt them, and they throw them off, they will become people (again).” The hunter went offand he hid there. And he heard them calling, “Kokotee Asamoa, Monday has arrived, let us go.” So they all came. They peeled off their skins, and put them down there. Now, (one of the Pigs,) who was a doctor of herbs, was among them, and he took his skin and laid it elsewhere. The hunter watched them, and let them go away. He went and took all the skins and rubbed the peppers which they had mashed on them, and took them and put them in the stream, letting the water take them away. That of the Herbalist, however, which he had put aside from the rest, the hunter did not see. The hunter came home, and the Chief also called the people gathered round the blacksmith’s forge and made them come to his house. When these people came to the Chief’s house, they inquired of the Chief, saying, “Why have you called us?” The Chief said, “You were my men, and you ran away (once) to settle elsewhere; to-day you have come back, that is the reason I say you must come, for I will not permit you to go away any more.” The beasts said to the Chief, “What you have said, we have heard; but we know that the Creator’s hunter came and told you all about us, but that does not matter, we and you will live together; but we know that what you say is false; nevertheless, that does not matter; we thank that hunter. So we and you will live together; but there is one thing which we taboo, namely, that you disclose our origin; or that any of your subjects should disclose our origin; should that happen, we shall break up this, your tribe, and depart.” Now, at the time the Chief went to call them, the medicine man and some others ran away. And the medicine man went to take his skin and he escaped; but the rest turned back. That was because they could not find their skins. The Chief agreed to the conditions laid down by the beasts, and they and the beasts lived happily together. Now the men of the village married some of the beasts’ women-folk; they bore children. Now, one day one of the beasts and one of the villagers were fighting with their fists. Thereupon, the villager said to the beast, “Take yourself off from there, an animal like you, who belongs to the Bush-pig company.” No sooner had he said so than the eyes of all the beasts became red, and they went to the Chief’s house to tell him, saying, “The possibility about which we told you has now actually come about, so what are you going to do?” The Chief made them go and call the people who had caused the dispute. The Chief looked closely into the matter and gave judgement that the beasts should drop the charge, because (he said) it was a long time since they had come and this, moreover, was the first occasion on which any one had ever said anything to them (about their origin). But the beasts said, “We shall not agree.” And the Chief said, “You will not listen, and you think that what this man said is a lie, are you not Bush-pigs?” And the beasts said, “Oh, we have heard.” Thereupon the beasts and the Acrossthe-water people fought. The beasts destroyed the village, until there remained only about ten people. And they begged for mercy and told the beasts that they (the beasts) had right on their side. The beasts listened, and they informed the people, saying, “A case already stated is not difficult to understand, and if you and we are to live together, we taboo all allusion to our origin. If you ever think or mention it (again), then (we will ask you) to point out to us that very thicket whence we came to this place, that we may return thither.” And the people said, “We can never do such a thing again. What we have done has caused our tribe to be ruined; we shall never do so again.” So they caused a public proclamation to be made, by beating the odawuro gong to the effect that no one should ever tell another person’s origin, lest the disclosure should cause the town to be ruined.
This, my story, which I have related, if it be sweet, (or) if it be not sweet, some you may take as true, and the rest you may praise me (for telling of it).