This is what was done at the home of a foreign chief. [As a rule, a true national chief is called mwami, while a chief of foreign origin or self-imposed is more commonly called mwene. Such foreign chiefs are always supposed to be polygamous.]
Those of his wives who were then pregnant remained at home while he himself went hunting elephants. The following words—who could believe it?—were then given as having been uttered by him: “About these wives of mine who remain at home, this is my will. If one of them gives birth to a boy, she must throw him away. If a girl be born, that is the child I want to find here when I come back.”
Bacu! “O Mother! Mother! Mother! Mother!” said various women on hearing this piece of news, “Has he really uttered such words? Listen you, mates of ours, our husband, when going to the wilds, said that if one of us gives birth to a boy, she must throw him away.”
“Here now, that is a lie,” said one woman.
“Great Heavens!” said others, “we who are pregnant, what shall we do?”
Meanwhile the chief goes and goes an endless journey.
At this moment one of the wives finds she has given birth to a girl, while another has given birth to a boy.
“What is that?” says the first. “Now what are you going to do with this boy to whom you have given birth? Where are you going to take him?”
“Nonsense!” said a woman hearing that, “Who ever, in the face of men [that is, “in the face of civilised people,” opposed to savages living in the bush], said that he should be thrown away? That is simply a lie invented by the excessive jealousy of the woman. How can she thus slander her husband, as if he had said such a thing?”
Poor woman! She put herself in movement. She took the child into... what? ...into the reeds near the river, saying: “Can I throw away such a fine child? No, by my mother! Let me lay him down here, on...what? ...on a piece of bark.” [In these parts there are trees whose bark is easily peeled off in cylinders or half-cylinders, which are used in the forest as dishes for porridge, honey, etc., and are sometimes fashioned by children into small boats.] And there she got one and laid him gently on it.
Just then it happened that a little old woman, who was living in the bush, said to herself: “Mother! I must go to look for something to eat.” Heavens! She hears a babyish cry like mamana, and finds the baby asleep. Dear me! Quick, she takes him in her arms, saying: “This is a child who will become a genuine one, the whole of him.”
You may fancy how she set to work. The child grew in no time, as people grow in stories only. The mother went regularly to deposit food (milk and porridge) there in the bush, while the old woman constantly took the milk to him to drink.
His mother used to call him Kalombe, but the little old woman changed his name to Mandu.
One day it happened that his first cousin, a young girl called Drums [Ngoma], said to her little mates: “Let us go and dig for field-rats where the grass has been burnt.”
So the children went. Then they saw something like a rabbit start up and disappear into a cave in an ant-hill: “My mates,” said Drums, “poke in there with a pole.”
As they were poking they heard this:
“You have hurt me, Ngoma.”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“My mother is Mwinsa.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She was the little wife.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She came to be pregnant.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“People came where I was born.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Where,’ they said, ‘is the child you have brought forth?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You have given birth to a boy.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Is it to herd cattle?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You do not know how to bear children.’”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
Ngoma said again: “You my mates, poke in another pole. Do you not hear how those things sing?”
So they poked again, and heard again:
“You have hurt me, Ngoma.”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“My mother is Mwinsa.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She was the little wife.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She came to be pregnant.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“People came where I was born.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Where,’ they said, ‘is the child you have brought forth?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You have given birth to a boy.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Is it to herd cattle?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You do not know how to bear children.’”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“Now,” said Ngoma, “listen... Bring another pole, but a long one.” So they poked with a long pole, but heard only the same song:
“You have hurt me, Ngoma.”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“My mother is Mwinsa.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She was the little wife.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She came to be pregnant.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“People came where I was born.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Where,’ they said, ‘is the child you have brought forth?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You have given birth to a boy.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Is it to herd cattle?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You do not know how to bear children.’”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“Listen to that, mates.”
At last they went home, then they said to their other mates,: “Look here! There where we have been we have heard a thing which was singing. Tomorrow we must go again...”
[Next morning]: “It is time to go...” There they once more find something like a rabbit jumping into the cave.
Again they poke in it with a pole. The same song comes forth:
“You have hurt me, Ngoma.”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“My mother is Mwinsa.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She was the little wife.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“She came to be pregnant.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“People came where I was born.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Where,’ they said, ‘is the child you have brought forth?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You have given birth to a boy.
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘Is it to herd cattle?
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
“‘You do not know how to bear children.’”
Chorus. —“Let the drum roll.”
Then, instead of poking again, they pick up one of the hoes which they had brought to dig field-rats, and start digging. Dig! Dig! Dig! What a surprise! This is their brother.
Quick! They go and call the mother. But she says: “Do not tell his father when he comes back.” They take oil to go and anoint him, they also take porridge to him.
Well! Well! In no time the child was already a fine boy.
Some time after that the chief at length came back. They at once took to him the little girl that had been born during his absence, but she was not even able to walk, her eye were covered with discharge, and her body was covered with itch.
Now, at the little old woman’s abode, the boy is already grown up. He has even hollowed out two drums.
When these were ready, he strung them on to his shoulders, and went with them as far as his father’s town, but found that the people were still in the fields.
Dear me! What a start he gave:
“Ndi! Ndi! Ndi!
Some one said: “Do you hear the drums that are being sounded over there?”
Then the women and the slaves gathered into a heap together with the man, but found nobody there. So they went to hide themselves. Then they saw the boy come out and strike again:
Bacu! He has already disappeared in the bush and goes towards the old woman’s abode carrying his drums.
The following day the people set out with the father to find out where the drum-beater had gone. All of a sudden some one said:
“Here he is!” He had already brought out one of his drums.
“Now,” they said, “to-day let us hide and see who he is who beats the drums.”
Then they all made themselves as small as they could, including the father. No mistake that is his son, he recognizes him at first sight. Only he is buried in fine clothes.
Heaven help me! He strings his drums on his body, then taps them. No delay, one drum already sounds.
“Assuredly!” says the father, “that is my child. Have they deceived me thus? And the little old woman herself thus practices deception on me! There he is beating the drums. You, children of tendons, quick! Get hold of him!”
No, they just remain hidden. They hear him then poking the fire [‘poking the fire’ is a metaphor for ‘beating the drum.’].
Good gracious! They find themselves shivering with some ill-defined emotion, they simply shiver. “That will not do,” says the father, “you spurious children, get hold of him!”
At this moment the slaves fly at him and surround him. The father himself holds him in his arms: “Is not this my child?” he says.
Heaven help me! The little woman on her side springs like a wild beast, saying: “He is my grandson!”
There is a real fight between the father and the little old woman, the man saying: “I tell you, he is my child!”
(Then, turning to his own people): “And you, why did you deceive me thus?”
“It was your queen,” answered the people,” who said that the woman who gave birth to a boy should throw him away.”
“Did I ever say such a thing?” asked the man.
Then the little old woman, who had nursed and reared the child! Talk of the presents in the shape of iron tools and heads of cattle which she received!
As to his child, the father, dividing his town in two, gave him one half with a number of slaves and cattle.
Then the mother said to the boy: “You must go and marry the daughter of the Rain-Lord.”
So the boy said: “Lads, I am going to marry.”
“Where,” said the boys, “are you going to take your wife from?”
“I?” answered the boy, “No common woman will do for me, be she the daughter of a king; the very child of the Rain-Lord, that is the one I am going to marry.”
“Are you able to reach the place?”
“I shall reach it.”
Then: “Mother, cook some porridge for me, and put it in a pot.”
She cooked some.
Then he said: “If ever this porridge cools, mother, you may say that your child is going to die.”
He got up. There he is taking long strides and falling into a path which leads him to a meadow.
Just as he was entering the meadow, he found there a little bird at rest, which allowed him to pass his hand on its back. “How nice it would be,” he said, “to take a feather from such a beautiful bird, so as to put it on while I go courting!”
Now: “Let me get hold of it,” the little bird slips away from his hand. Again: “Let me get hold of it,” again it slips away. There it is taking him to a distance out of the way... . “Well,” he says, “I will not go back, I must get hold of this little bird, wherever he may be going to stop.” He starts singing:
“Pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, listen!
“For me who am exhausted that I may go with them [i.e.,
with divine protection], listen!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may bring a feather thither!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may put it on when courting.
“For me who am exhausted, Ximukunkulu [Mumba says that Ximukunkulu is the name of a young brother whom the hero has taken as a companion], for me who am exhausted.
“Pretty little bird, a feather!” [Rumba says that the little bird was the very child of the Rain-Lord, thus transformed and sent by her father in order to try the wooer. This song is in only her version and in Mumba’s. In these verses the singer plays on the double meaning of ngara, viz.: (a) I can do no more, I am exhausted, (b) a feather, a mane, a charm.]
The feather kept at a distance, kept at a distance, kept at a distance. The song was resumed:
“Pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, listen!
“For me who am exhausted that I may go with them, listen!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may bring a feather thither!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may put it on when courting.
“For me who am exhausted, Ximukunkulu, for me who am exhausted.
“Pretty little bird, a feather!”
The little bird fled, the little bird fled:
“Pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, listen!
“For me who am exhausted that I may go with them, listen!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may bring a feather thither!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may put it on when courting.
“For me who am exhausted, Ximukunkulu, for me who am exhausted.
“Pretty little bird, a feather!”
The boy was tired. He said: “Let us sleep here, to-morrow very early we shall try again.”
When it dawned he made a fresh start:
“Pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, a feather!
“For me who am exhausted, pretty little bird, listen!
“For me who am exhausted that I may go with them, listen!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may bring a feather thither!
“For me who am exhausted, that I may put it on when courting.
“For me who am exhausted, Ximukunkulu, for me who am exhausted.
“Pretty little bird, a feather!”
Then, as he happened to come in sight of a hut standing by itself, half-ruined, without grass on the roof, without so much as a doorway, belonging to a little old woman, there he found the little bird perched on the house itself.
As he came near the little old woman, she said: “You have put in an appearance, my child.” [By the laws of Bantu etiquette, the first greeting must come from the person visited.]
“I have put in an appearance, mother.”
“Now, where are you going to, my child?”
“I was just following that little bird, as I wanted to take from it a feather, and to put it on where I am going to look for a wife.”
“This little bird,” said the woman, “is one that shows me my food; it cannot be caught by anyone. Now, with regard to your marriage, where are you going to get a wife from?”
“I am going,” says he, “to marry the daughter of the Rain-Lord.”
“Well,” she says, “if you are going to marry the daughter of the Rain-Lord, first stay and sleep here to-night, my child; you will go without fail tomorrow. Let me first cook some porridge for you to eat. Meanwhile get hold of that fowl there to make a relish for us.”
The boy caught the fowl and roasted it, while the old woman was stirring the porridge for him. He took his food.
When he had finished, he went to cut firewood for the little old woman and brought it to her: “Yes, that is right,” she said, “you child, my brother, you have cut for me a little firewood.”
Night came, they fell asleep.
As soon as the night cleared, the boy said: “Now I make a start.”
“Before you go,” said the woman, “let me give you the feather you want.”
So she got hold of the little bird on the hut, plucked out one of its feathers, and gave it him, saying: “Now you have to go on your own account, and you shall find all sorts of difficulties on the road. It is God who will put those difficulties in your way. But just stick this feather in your hair. You will only have to speak exactly as this badge will suggest to you. Go in peace, may your journey be prosper ous, my child.”
So he stuck the feather on his head, and said good-bye.
As he went on his way, he found the road covered with excrements ... “Now this filth!” he said. “Where am I going to tread?”
Ah! He felt the little feather fidgetting there on his head, and at once started this song:
The Hero: How now! Little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: Is this the road we have to take?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: That is not the one, Master Mandu.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: Rather go by this one.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
He saw the filth simply disappear, and passed on.
He went further. As he was saying: “Now let me go slowly,” he saw in front of him the River Putu, with no end on any side. So he stopped once more and sang:
“Come now! Little Feather!”
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: This river too, shall we cross it?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: Cross it, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
Well! Well! This river itself, even the Putu, he just went across.
The young boy went on taking long strides, until he saw himself face to face with a herd of elephants standing, looking at him swinging heavy shoulders, and no sign where it ended.
“Well, now!” says he, “what am I going to do?”
This time he gets hold of his little feather and sings:
“Come now! Little Feather!”
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: Here again shall we pass?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: Let us pass, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
Well! Well! The elephants over there went out of the road. There they are dispersing themselves, let them go.
He went on and on, until he saw in front of him a big mountain built by God with wall upon wall, all abrupt... “Oh!” he says, “this mountain! Where are we going to pass?”
Once more he took hold of his little feather, then sang:
“Friendly little feather!”
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: This mountain too! Shall we get over it?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: you will pass, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These too are ordinations of Providence.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
He saw the mountain vanish, dispersing its rocks. So he passed on. Good Heavens! Did he not then put on speed, and more speed? But there he found buffaloes. And those horns, how twisted they were! He sang:
“Friendly little feather!” etc.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: These buffaloes too! Shall we get over them?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: You will pass, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These too are ordinations of Providence.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
Well! Well ! The buffaloes themselves scraped the ground, and he went on.
He went on, did the little boy, taking long strides once more, but without any particular difficulty, until he met lions, and these in such numbers that he saw no end of them... “Ugh!”
Holding his little feather, he sang:
“Come now! Little Feather!”
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: Here again shall we pass?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: Let us pass, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
He saw them too vanish. So he went quietly along, but he had not finished yet. There he now sees long, long snakes, a confused mass of them, and no end of them in view... .
“Ugh!” says he, “Now these snakes! Where am I going to pass?”
He simply once more takes hold of his little feather and sings:
“Come now! Little Feather!”
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Hero: These snakes too, shall we get over them?
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: You will pass, Master Mandu!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: These are ordinations of God.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: In which he has intermixed charms.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
The Feather: When I was there.
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
Like the rest they vanish. So he goes on throwing forward one leg after the other... .
And that over there is the city!
On reaching the place, he goes and sits down under a tree with his arms folded over his knees [this is the customary attitude assumed by boys when they go courting].
They [respect or reverence is marked in Bwine-Mukuni (the language of the Bene-Mukuni) by use of the various forms of the plural pronoun meaning “they” (ba, bo, bene) instead of the singular, as in ba-wmana wa Resa, ‘the lady daughter of God.’ And one often hears with the meaning of ‘God’ the plural meaning ‘They’ without any mention of Him having been made before, as is the case here] said: “Over there is a man who has arrived. Go and put to him the questions of welcome.” [Among the Bene-Mukuni the first of these questions are: “Are you awake?” Answer: “I am awake.” Then: “Did you awake all right?” Answer: “All right.” Then: “Have you awakened yourself?” Answer: “I have awakened myself.”]
People came and, after putting to him the usual questions, said: “Now you, man, what have you come for?”
“I have,” he said, “come for the lady daughter of the Rain-Lord.”
“You have come to wed the daughter of the Rain-Lord?”
“Yes,” he said.
So these people went back and said: “He has come for the lady daughter of the Rain-Lord, wishing to wed her.”
“Sweep,” said They, “the hut of his intended mother-in-law, that we may see what sort of man he is.” [The most stringent marriage-law for a man in Northern Rhodesia is the prohibition against entering the hut of his mother-in-law. Likewise a woman is prohibited from entering the hut of her father-in-law.]
They swept, then came and said to him: “Now get up and go into the hut over there.”
He just got hold of his little feather and sang:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we go into this hut?”
“That is no hut for you, Master Mandu.
“It is your mother-in-law’s.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
So the messenger came and said: “He does not want it, he says it is the house of his mother-in-law.”
The people then swept the house of one of Their [God’s] slaves, a spinster. When it was ready, they said to him: “Now th time come and enter here.”
He just got hold of his little feather, and sang:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“What about that hut? Shall we go in?”
“It belongs to a female-slave of Theirs.
“They do not allow anyone to approach their slave.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
“He refuses,” said the messenger, “he says it is the hut of Their slave.”
“Oh! This man who has come here! He beats us. Go and sweep this hut here.”
They swept the hut of Their niece. Then He said: “Go and call him.”
So they called him saying: “Come now! Go into the hut... .”
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Is this my wife’s hut?”
“No, Master Mandu.
“It is Their niece’s.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
So once more: “No, he says it is Your niece’s hut.”
“Oh! For goodness’ sake! Take him there into the hut that is in ruins.”
There he goes this time, carrying his assegais.
While the people are making a little order in the ruined hut, dear me! The vermin! It is full of them, full of them! He sings:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we go into this hut?
“You may go in, Master Mandu;
“It is your wife’s hut.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
Just fancy! Now as he goes in, all the vermin that were there disappear.
“Say! has he agreed? “ asked the Rain-Lord.
“He has agreed,” was the answer, “he is in already.”
As he entered the hut, a mat was brought to him, his future mother-in-law’s, and it was spread in front of hem. But he sat on the ground. When asked to sit on the mat, he just got hold of his little feather and sang:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we sit upon this mat?”
“It is not the right one, Master Mandu,
“It is your mother-in-law’s.”
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
The messenger said: “He refuses even the mat.”
They took that one away, and went to bring the one belonging to the daughter of the Rain Lord. They shook it, then spread it.
He sang again:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we sit on this mat?”
“You may sit on it, Master Mandu.
“This is your wife’s mat.”
So he sat down on the mat with legs stretched at length, they leaving him in peace for some time.
The people then went to get some wine [a beverage more like wine than beer, made by soaking crushed munkoyo-roots in beer still hot from the fire] for him. But what they brought was his own father-in-law and his mother-in-law transformed into wine. They put this down before him in a close-woven little basket, and said: “Drink this wine from the basket.”
But he, looking at it: “Ye-e-es, is this truly wine?”
He just got hold of his little feather, and sang:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we drink this wine?”
“It is no wine at all, Master Mandu.
“That wine is your father-in-law and your mother-in-law.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
Then the father-in-law and the mother-in-law stand up. There they are going.
Porridge was cooked.
Heaven help me! They changed themselves, the father-in-law into a roasted cock, the woman into porridge. Great Heaven! A boy carries them on plates, brings them to the wooer and says: “Eat this porridge.” He also brings water for the wooer to wash his hands.
But the song begins again:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we eat this porridge?”
“Do not eat it, Master Mandu.
“This is your mother-in-law,
“And this is your father-in-law,
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
Then what a picture! The mother-in-law who had become porridge standing up, and the father-in-law rushing out of the dish crowing kokoliko! There they are both of them running as fast as they can.
Then it was that this word went forth: “Come, come! You are tiring the man for nothing. Simply cook the porridge.”
So the porridge was stirred, genuine porridge this time. It was taken out of the pot, and some relish was put beside it. Then: “Come, child of the Rain-Lord, and take that to him.”
So the child of the Rain-Lord herself came quickly and went to put the one and the other at the feet of the boy. There she is already out of the hut, while he sings:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we eat this porridge?”
“You may eat it, Master Mandu.
“It is simple porridge.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
So he takes the porridge and eats.
“Now,” say they, “what shall we do?”
Then they said: “Let the woman go. Take the child of the Rain-Lord to her husband.”
Now fancy this! The mother-in-law metamorphosed herself once more, and went. Then:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we marry the woman?”
“Don’t, Master Mandu.
“She is your mother-in-law.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
There she is going away.
“What has happened?”
“He has refused.”
Well! They went to fetch another woman, the young sister of his mother-in-law, and began to dress her. She was soon literally covered with brass ornaments. Then she went with great solemnity to enter into the hut. As she came she sat down on the mat. But he, looking fixedly at her, got hold of his little feather, and sang:
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall we marry the woman?”
“Don’t, Master Mandu.
“She is not your wife, Master Mandu.
“She too is your mother-in-law, the young one.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
There you may see her getting up and going.
“What did he say?”
“That she too is his mother-in-law.”
They then dressed the niece of the Rain-Lord. But the ornaments they put on her! They could not be counted. They made her move, and went ahead showing the way. When she comes, they see her sit down at her ease on the mat...
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Is this our wife?”
“No, Master Mandu.
“She is thy future cousin.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
She, too, see her going.
“What has happened?” asked the Lord.
“He does not want her,” answered the messenger. “He says she is his cousin.”
“Now,” said they, “dress a girl from another hut.”
They went to adorn his future sister-in-law; they simply covered her with cowries. She got up and, as the others had done, came and sat comfortably on the mat...
“Friendly little feather!
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Is this our wife?”
“This is not your wife, Master Mandu.
“She is your sister-in-law.
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
He sees her getting up.
“The sun is gone,” said the Lord.” Tell him that tomorrow we shall give him without fail the true lady daughter of the Rain-Lord.”
The following day passed quietly. Only just when the sun was going down, these words were heard: “All they that wish to marry our child, let them appear together.”
Two other young men then got up besides our own, who had his feather on his head and an axe in hand.
“My child,” said the RainLord, “is not for marriage, unless the suitor goes first to bring me fibre from the top of that baobab tree over there.” [The baobab grows to enormous size and is very slippery.] One of the men got up saying: “Let us climb and peel od some bark.” He too had a song, but in Bu-Sori:
“Come, come! Father! Peel off some fibre for me.
Chorus: “Slip! Slip!
“Go there! Slip! Slip!
“Tumble down! Slip! Slip!
“Oh! Mother! I cannot reach. Slip! Slip!”
He fell on the ground. “Too much for him.” They left him alone.
The second one got up too, and the song was repeated.
He too fell down.
Then the owner of the little feather got up in his turn, and with his own song:
“Friendly little feather,
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Shall I climb up this baobab?”
“You will climb, Master Mandu;
“These are ordinations of Providence,
“Wherein He has mixed charms
“When I was there.”
He just fixed his axe in the tree and went up, singing for fun the song of the others:
“Come, come! Father! Peel off some fibre for me.
Chorus: “Slip! Slip!
“Go there! Slip! Slip!
“Tumble down! Slip! Slip!
“Oh! Mother! I cannot reach. Slip! Slip!”
He jumped from branch to branch up to the top, pulled off the bark, and came down.
When he was down, the word uttered was: “Now _you_ may go, the one who has brought the fibre is my son-in-law.”
There they go away towards their kraals, while the winner comes back to his ruinous hut.
When it was dark, this word was heard: “Now let us take to her husband the very child of the Rain-Lord.”
Would you believe it? They first shaved her hair close, smeared her all over with ashes, and even gave her for her dress a shred of skin. Her slave, on the contrary, they dressed with all possible finery; on her head beads strung with her hair, with all sorts of ornaments and brilliants for which only goldsmiths have names; on her ears rings; on her forehead a cowry; on her shoulders cowries, on her neck a cowry, on her chest a cowry; on her wrists armlets; on her fingers rings; at her waist red beads and a fine belt; under her arms special ornaments; on her legs copper wires clanking so as to beat time. Her face and head were anointed red.
There she is going with an escort ahead, and the true child of the Rain-Lord behind gathering up the skin to her body as close as she can, as if shivering with cold.
When the bridegroom looked in the direction from which they were coming, he saw lightning upon lightning, lightning upon lightning: “This time,” he said, “she is coming.”
Then, as they came near the door, He began to thunder, roll of thunder upon roll of thunder, rururu, rururu, rururu. “This time,” says the boy, “it is her own self.”
They begin to enter the hut. God help me! It is all illuminated, lightning upon lightning.
The woman buried in cowries then sits down at her ease, but he, getting hold of his little feather, just sings:
“Friendly little feather,
Chorus: When I am eaten-eaten, I am bitterness,
when I am eaten-eaten.
“Is this our wife?...”
“This one, no, Master Mandu...
“She is her slave...
“But the one that is behind...
“All besmeared with ashes...
“With her head clean-shaved...
“Having only a skin as a dress...
“That is THE LADY CHILD OF THE RAIN-LORD.”
He just put his hands on her, saying: “I know her, my wife, with the shred of skin.”
The people then dispersed, and the two of them went to sleep.
The marriage having thus been celebrated, next morning the Rain- Lord said: “Now what am I going to do? This son-in-law of mine, to what work shall I send him?”
At last he said: “To-day I am going to the hole to trample mortar.” Good gracious! There he is in fact with a hoe in hand.
When the little son-in-law saw him thus going to dig in the hole, he stretched himself quick enough, and coming up to him said: “Let THEM give me the hoe.”
He took hold of it... And now there he is in the hole, digging, digging, digging, turning up and turning up the soil. Then he remembered his badge, took it off and said: “Father-in-law, kindly hold this little feather for me there where you are, lest it get dirty.”
So he passed it to THEM, to the Rain-Lord himself, and THEY stuck it in their hair.
While they had it thus on their head, THEY bethought themselves of saying:
“Hole, hold for me my son_in-law.”
This THEY said four times.
Hearing that, the little son-in-law from his hole said likewise four times:
“Little feather, hold for me my father-in-law.”
“Ha!” said the father-in-law.
The feather was already beginning to grow and to fix itself firmly on the skin, the roots going through.
Listen: “Little feather! Ha!” ... “ Then:
“Hole, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hole, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hole, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hole, give me back my son-in-law.”
And at once the son-in-law moving from his place:
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Here! Take thy badge,” said the Rain-Lord. And he did not take long to get rid of it.
He then said: “Let us go home.”
So they went home and just sat down.
The following day THEY said: “Today let us go and clear a new field in the forest.”
When they reached the place where they had to cut trees, the father-in-law said: “Thou, my son-in-law, climb up to the top of that thorn-tree there and cut off its branches.”
The son-in-law then remembered to take out his little feather and to say: “Kindly put this little feather of mine on yourself.”
There he is now going up to the top of the tree.
Seeing him there the father-in-law says:
“Take away my son-in-law, tree.”
“Take away my son-in-law, tree.”
“Take away my son-in-law, tree.”
“Take away my son-in-law, tree.”
The son-in-law says likewise:
“Take away my father-in-law, little feather.”
“Take away my father-in-law, little feather.”
“Take away my father-in-law, little feather.”
“Take away my father-in-law, little feather.”
Soon the Rain-Lord said: “Let us go home.”
The following day he said: “Today where shall we go to? We had best go to the heap of dry wood.”
So they went to the heap of dry wood. Then the RainLord said: “Go up, my son-in-law, here in the very middle of the ant-heap.”
The son-in-law went up there, but first said: “Hold my little feather for me.”
The father-in-law, the Rain-Lord, put it on. Then were heard, Heaven help me! the following words:
“Fire, burn me my son-in-law.”
“Fire, burn me my son-in-law.”
“Fire, burn me my son-in-law.”
“Fire, burn me my son-in-law.”
But the son-in-law from the middle of the heap, said likewise:
“Little feather, burn my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, burn my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, burn my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, burn my father-in-law.”
And in fact the father-in-law really began to burn. So he said at once:
“Fire, let go my son-in-law.”
“Fire, let go my son-in-law.”
“Fire, let go my son-in-law.”
“Fire, let go my son-in-law.”
And from the ant-heap came the words:
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, let go my father-in-law.”
Well! Well! The father-in-law was left free by the little feather.
They came home.
The following day the Rain-Lord said: “I go to the forge.” [I.e., to forge thunder and lightning.] There he is carrying the tools himself and going to the forge.
“I, too,” said the son-in-law, “let me go and hold the bellows.”
So he went to blow the bellows, but just as he put his hand on them, he said: “Let THEM kindly hold for me this badge of mine.” And he handed it to the father-in-law.
THEY then said:
“Hammer, take away my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, take away my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, take away my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, take away my son-in-law.”
“Little feather, hold for me my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, hold for me my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, hold for me my father-in-law.”
“Little feather, hold for me my father-in-law.”
The Rain-Lord had no remedy but to say:
“Hammer, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Hammer, give me back my son-in-law.”
Well! The hammer just went and struck the ground.
THEY then said: “Now, let us work as friends. Thou, my son-in-law, give us water by shedding tears [i.e., make rain].”
“I, my revered fnend,” said the son-in-law, “for my own work I have here this pot of mine, but let all the sons-in-law of your abode come together to shed tears into it.”
Would you believe it? There they began to come together. But the father-in-law did not wait until they reached the forge.
He just said: “Heaven help me! This son-in-law of mine, well! he is one who is hard to beat. Let us go back.”
So they both went home, and they left bim in peace.
The following day THEY said: “Give us some bark that we may go and fix the roof.”
Then THEY themselves went up the roof. Seeing that, the little son-in-law threw himself also upon the roof. Then he said: “Let my father-in-law hold this badge for me and go down.”
The father-in-law, having come down, said:
“Roof, take away my son-in-law.”
“Little feather, hold my father-in-law.”
“Roof, give me back my son-in-law.”
“Little feather, release my father-in-law.”
So the son-in-law came down.
Heaven help us! THEY said: “Now what shall we do?”
But the son-in-law said: “Now all these days I have been on fire. To-morrow, by my mother, I go to our own home.”
The mother-in-law said: “With thy wife?”
He said: “With my wife.”
She said: “My child! No, let her remain here.”
Next morning he said: “My wife, let us make a start, that I may go and see my mother.”
“Go by yourself, “said the wife.
“Ha!” said the boy.
He straightway got up.
When the wife saw him going, she got up saying: “After all, I will follow my husband.”
Well then! The Rain-Lord himself, seeing that, began to fill baskets with provisions, together with his slaves. And these he gave to his daughter as an escort. Cattle too were added. There they are now on the road.
When they had gone only a little distance, the boy passed his little feather to his wife, and she put it on. She, besides, took from him his skin of the nsimba wild cat, and went away with it.
He then moves on ahead, moves on ahead. Seeing her follow at a little distance, he sings:
“Child of the Rain-Lord!
Chorus: “Bring me my cat skin.”
“I must go.
“I am coming, child of Wood-cutter.
“Make haste, child that comest with water from the clouds
[the children of the Rain-Lord are supposed to come with the rain from the sky], bring me my cat skin.”
Meanwhile he takes long strides, long strides, long strides, while she lags behind with all the slaves. Then, giving a look back towards the city, she sings:
“My father has forsaken me.
“At home he has let rain fall.
“The rainfall has come, mother.
“It has come down in big drops.”
That is enough to throw all the men down under a torrential rain.
The boy ahead, seeing that, says:
“Now how has the woman, the child of the Rain Lord, treated me?” So he changes his song:
“At our abode it is all sunshine,
“All sunshine, all sunshine,
“All sunlight.”
Behold! The sun shines again. And the people are released from their spell, the cattle too.
Now they move on correctly.
However, after a time the boy, looking behind, sees the daughter of the Rain-Lord lagging once more. So he sings again:
“Child of the Rain-Lord!
Chorus: “Bring me my cat skin.”
“I must go.
“I am coming, child of Wood-cutter.
“Make haste, child that comest with water from the clouds,
bring me my cat skin.”
This time she also, there on the road, puts on speed.
But now she begins to climb up a hill, and there, looking behind, she finds that a servant is coming over there in the distance, loaded with brass ornaments for her. She then sings again:
“My father has forsaken me.
“At home he has let rain fall.
“The rainfall has come, mother.
“It has come down in big drops.”
Heaven help me! The people are like dead men. At once the man sings:
“At our abode it is all sunshine,
“All sunshine, all sunshine,
“All sunlight.”
The people in a trice are up again and moving on.
The slaves are now on the declivity of the mountain. They actually swallow up the road. After a time the man finds that the neighbourhood of his own kraal begins to come into view far away in the plain.
“Now,” he says, “over there, that is where our kraal lies.”
At that moment his wife joins him: “Now,” he says, “we are going soon to reach the place...”
When he saw that the distance was not great, he despatched one of his wife’s men, saying: “Now go towards our kraal to announce us, so that when the child of the Rain-Lord comes, she may not be put into a hut of grass, but into the brick house, and let them whitewash it.”
The servant went.
A little farther, the man looked behind, and again sang:
“Child of the Rain-Lord!
Chorus: “Bring me my cat skin.”
“I must go.
“I am coming, child of Wood-cutter.
“Make haste, child that comest with water from the clouds,
bring me my cat skin.”
Then longer strides than ever. Then he sees that already a great part of the neighbourhood of his kraal comes out quite clear. Then he sees even a forest: “Now,” he says, “that is the forest which is on this side of our kraal, now I am assuredly near.” Then:
“Child of the Rain-Lord!
Chorus: “Bring me my cat skin.”
“I must go.
“I am coming, child of Wood-cutter.
“Make haste, child that comest with water from the clouds,
bring me my cat skin.”
The little man, then, good gracious! begins also to feel really tired. Yet he swallows up the distance more than ever.
Just when he reached the forest, he found there a stream, and near the stream a big tree: “Now,” he said, “this is the very place where I sat down the other day. To-day also let me sit down a moment while waiting for my wife.”
[This particular episode, as far as the imposter is concerned, is due to Mumba. It is current all over the Zambesi region, but is generally detached from the present tale.]
When the child of the Rain-Lord reached the stream, she said: “Go ahead quietly, while I take a bath here.”
The man went on with the slaves behind him.
When he had gone a little distance, he heard a honeybird singing nce, nce, nce. “Let me go and dig out some honey,” says the man, “while ny wife is still at the stream.”
He goes to the place where he has heard the bird singing, thinking it may still be there...
“No, he is gone.”
Just then he hears it further on, calling nce, nce, nce. Here is the honey.
He extracts some, then comes back to the road, and finds there, as he thinks, his wife, but, good gracious! she is an impostor with all the cattle and some of the slaves, and the cat skin.
She says: “Let us go, husband, you have already extracted the honey, let us go.”
She puts the honey on her head, and they go.
The true bride, meanwhile, there far behind, is also coming at a good pace, accompanied by other slaves and singing: “Mother of loads! Mother of loads! [The daughter of the Rain-Lord calls herself a-mitembo “Mother-of-loads,” probably to show sympathy with her slaves, who by this time feel the weight of their loads.]
“On the road by which we go
“There is an impostor,
“With all the cattle,
“All the slaves,
“All the herds,
“All the beads,
“All the brass,
“All the goods,
“All the clothes.
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“My husband,
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“Mother-of-loads!”
The young man then looked behind, but saw his wife near. He never suspected that it was the impostor. Yet there at a distance the song was going on.
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“My husband,
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“Mother-of-loads!”
At last they are on the outskirts of the village. People from there come out to look in the direction of the road and to see over there coming with quick steps not only their child, but also the impostor behind...
“The child of the Rain-Lord!” they say, “the child of the Rain-Lord! There she is on the point of reaching our kraal... Quick! sweep the house.”
Good gracious! How nicely they have whitewashed it and smeared it! [The smearing is done on the floor with fresh cow dung, when it can be had.]
Meanwhile the husband puts his foot into the precincts of the village:
“Oh! There is my child!”
“Here I am, mother. The porridge you cooked on that day, has it cooled?”
“No, it still steams.”
They go to take the cover off, and steam comes out. [This detail of the porridge still steaming is from Munje’s version.]
He then finds that the house of bricks has been built for his wife. But, as the impostor is going to step inside, the mother-in-law, looking closely, says: “Is this really the daughter of the Rain-Lord?” “No, by my mother, it is not.”
The man, too, looking at her: “O my wife,” he says, “where is my badge?”
“I have left it at the stream.”
“Let me go and fetch it.”
And he rushes out.
But, as he rushes out, a song is heard to the west of the road:
“Mother of loads! Mother of loads!
“On the road by which we go
“There is an impostor,
“With all the cattle,
“All the slaves,
“All the herds,
“All the beads,
“All the brass,
“All the goods,
“All the clothes.
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“My husband,
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“Mother-of-loads!”
“Now look!” says the mother of the boy, “at the people coming from that direction and singing.” Meanwhile the song goes on:
“There is an impostor,
“With all the cattle,
“All the slaves,
“All the herds,
“All the beads,
“All the brass,
“All the goods,
“All the clothes.
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“My husband,
“Wait for me, that I may undeceive thee,
“Mother-of-loads!”
Good gracious! They just see, heaven help me! What! They see the impostor pack off as fast as she can, and into the bush! Look for her!
Now here is the true child of the Rain-Lord reaching the place in her turn, and with the little feather on her head.
When the child of the Rain-Lord came in front of the house-door, she sat down there outside. “What!” said someone, “the lady child of the Rain-Lord remain thus outside! Shame upon us! Quick! Bring something to make her step into the house.”
They brought a cow, and, when presenting the girl with her, they said: “Now let THEM go in.”
She went into the house, but she remained there standing. Then her husband sang:
“Child of God, give me my cat skin, with which I go about.”
“I will not, child of Heavy-brain.” [Mumba says that Congo “Heavy-brain” was the name of the mother and Ximutemambaro “Woodutter” the name of the father of the hero Master Mandu.]
“Then let us sit down, child coming with water from the clouds.”
“Let us sit down. child of Wood-cutter.”
On the mat she sat, and her husband helped her to sit comfortably.
Then they brought porridge and said: “Here is some food for the lady daughter of the Rain-Lord.” But she just crossed her arms over her chest... Then:
“Child of God, give me my cat skin, with which I go about.”
“I will not, child of Heavy-brain.”
“Then let us eat, child coming with water from the clouds.”
“We eat with the child of Wood-cutter.”
They then started eating, and the porridge was all finished.
And then cattle were killed. All the people ate to their fill.
Next morning the mother said: “Now to-day brew some beer for her.” [This is the beverage called bwarwa, literally “the weak have fought.” It is much more intoxicating than the one called funku in the 6th Song, which we have translated by “wine.”]
Beer was brewed and brought...
“Child of God, give me my cat skin, with which I go about.”
“It is enough to inhale this aroma with the child of Wood-cutter”.
“You ought to drink, child coming with water from the clouds.”
“I will not, child of Thick-brain.”
“At least give me my cat skin.”
“Here, take thy cat skin, my husband.”
Of the beer itself at last she drinks just a little.
She remained there ten days. Then she said: “Here everything is not all well. People get drunk every day. [This mention of beer as an explanation of the bride’s displeasure is due to Mumba.] Take me back to our own place. I do not feel here as if I were at the proper place. There are things looking like incest. I cannot bear it any longer. I, the daughter of the Rain-Lord.”
“Oh my wife,” says the man, “is this how you speak? And only just arrived!... Now what do you mean? To go back to your own abode! First get accustomed. When you are accustomed, then you will go back all right.”
Next morning the husband said: “Let me just have a look.” The woman at once said: “I am going.”
“You, my wife, how will you go?”
“I go as I am, alone, if need be.”
She is up already... “My wife, where are you going?”
“To my father, to the Rain_Lord.”
While the husband gets up, the wife has already disappeared.
There she is with her clothes flying against the wind, and the husband from behind just hears this song:
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
She simply goes on, her clothes continuing to fly against the wind, the husband following from a distance and calling:
“Come back, come back,
“Finder of cowries and beads,
“Finder of brass-coils.”
Her clothes there are still flying. So again the husband on her track behind:
“Come back, come back,
“Finder of cowries and beads,
“Finder of brass-coils.”
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
She goes faster and faster with her clothes flying. At last she sees over there the rise on which stands their city. And then too lightning upon lightning. “Now,” she says, “over there that is the true abode of my father. And his voice too, is it not thunder?”
“Yes,” she adds, “that truly is my father.”
She then was seen trotting. She sang again:
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
The husband now sees the wife trotting and ever trotting, while he feels himself dying from exhaustion. Nevertheless, he calls:
“Come back, come back, “Finder of cowries and beads, “Finder of brass-coils.”
He just hears:
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
He too then trots and trots without stopping. Then he too hears the thunder rolling. Though exhausted, he calls again from behind:
“Come back, come back,
“Finder of cowries and beads,
“Finder of brass-coils.”
He just hears:
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
Neither of the two gives up trotting. The child of the Rain-Lord then sees the city itself beginning to stand in front of her. She is just going to reach it. So she sings again, while going up the rise:
“I go, I go, little brother.
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Near pools, is it not where I sleep?
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
“Mother-in-law, did you want me to commit incest?”
Chorus: “Sins have sucked me dry.”
And the man takes up the song as before:
“Come back, come back,
“Finder of cowries and beads,
“Finder of brass-coils.”
At last the wife jumps into the city. Seeing her come in this fashion, her people greet her: “So you have put in an appearance?” “I have put in an appearance... Ha! Enough!”
She just sits down.
Good gracious! The man comes too... “Now,” he says, “I shall not go back to my mother’s.”
He settles there for good.
And now the little story is finished... altogether finished.
I am Mwana Mbirika [meaning: “Child of I-glorify.” Mbirika, “I glorify,” is said by the Bene-Mukuni to be one of the names of God, and so are many words formed in the same manner, such as Nkomexa, “I bring to perfection,” Nkocexa, “I give thee rest,” Njereke, “I measure,” etc.
In this tale we have, in suggestive combination, a chief ordering the murder of newborn boys, a boy taken to the river and deposited there in some sort of cradle, a woman taking care of him, and the very mother of the boy knowing all about it, while a near relation, called Drum or Drums, is also in the secret. There is also a wonderful feather with some of the magic power of Moses’ wand. Then the filth which blocks the way of our hero makes one think of the plagues of Egypt. The river Putu, which he has to cross, is said to be somewhere in the direction of Egypt. Here, as in Exodus, we have a high mountain and a plague of snakes. By our hero, as by Moses, the Lord is found on a nigh mountain. In both narratives lightning and thunder play an important part. In both narratives the hero, to secure the treasure upon which he has set his heart, has to go twice to the mountain of God.]