Prompt:
Journey of the Universe describes the evolution and unfolding of life on Earth as being “nested” in the larger processes that preceded and accompanied it. Trace the formation of the human back through Earth processes. How does this shape your understanding of the human story?
One of the things that most captured my attention and surprise in this week's readings and videos was the creation of the moon. They described how the moon was created because of the collision of a Mars-sized body into the Earth. Being molten, the Earth absorbed the vast majority of the body but a ring of lava formed around the Earth. This ring eventually cooled into a ball that we now call the moon.
And now, the Earth and life on earth is so dependent on the moon. Its influence on our oceans and bodies of water create a mutable edge between dry and wet, between sea life and land life. The moon reminds us of how much change can exist even in stability.
When I lived in Togo, the moon was a much more important part of my life. I lived in a village with no electricity - the silver light of the full moon meant that I could go enjoy the night market in the center of the village without worrying about stumbling home. It extended the day for those three days every month, giving us more work, play, study time before sleep.
Tonight is a supermoon. The moon orbits the Earth in an oval pattern which means that sometimes, the moon is carried much closer to the Earth than we are used to. A supermoon occurs when a full moon coincides with that close orbit. It means that to our eyes, the moon looks 30% bigger than it normally does. It's pretty magical. I remember one supermoon in high school that was so bright and gorgeous that my friends and I laid out in a grassy field just watching it for hours. (If you are in the Americas, you should look for the supermoon tonight)
I think that the formation of the human is fascinating to consider in the process of the formation of the moon. The destruction of the colliding "planetisimals" was the spark for the creation of the moon. There was no plan, but there was opportunity. It is similar for the creation of humans. There was no plan to create humans, but there was opportunity. Out of the chaos emerged patterns. In difficult circumstances, some life forms thrived and others did not. Eventually, the patterns brought forth humans.
Showing posts with label Togolese stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Togolese stories. Show all posts
13 November 2016
26 March 2015
Camp UNITE .... in Arabic
In class, we've been working on short presentations on health, the environment, and education for the past few weeks. So one of my chosen topics was Camp UNITE. I recorded myself and added some photos from past years in order to make it more interesting. and voila!
Enjoy!
And please note that The UNITE Foundation is hosting a very exciting event on May 9th to celebrate the start of a new Camp UNITE in 2015 and to gather all of our supporters together to have some fun. Stay tuned for more information.
EDIT: Just listened to this again and found 3 grammatical errors in the first sentence. oh well! It's the effort that counts, right? My apologies to anyone who actually speaks Arabic!
Enjoy!
And please note that The UNITE Foundation is hosting a very exciting event on May 9th to celebrate the start of a new Camp UNITE in 2015 and to gather all of our supporters together to have some fun. Stay tuned for more information.
EDIT: Just listened to this again and found 3 grammatical errors in the first sentence. oh well! It's the effort that counts, right? My apologies to anyone who actually speaks Arabic!
19 January 2011
The King and His Three Daughters
Le Roi et ses trois filles
Fiaa de kple evia nyonuvi etoawo
The King and his Three Daughters
Fiaa de kple evia nyonuvi etoawo
The King and his Three Daughters
Traditional story, written down by Yves-Emmanuel Dogbe in “Contes et Legendes du Togo”
Translated and adapted by Rose Lindgren
Once upon a time, there was a king who had three daughters. The daughters were very beautiful but very mysterious. No one in the entire kingdom knew their names. As soon as the daughters grew old enough to be married, offers of betrothal flowed in from every corner of the country from rich men. But the king rejected all of them.
One day, he had all his subjects gather together, both men and animals. “I want to give my daughters in marriage,” he declared to them, “to someone worthy. He who returns in three days time and can tell me the names of my daughters will become my son, husband of my daughters.”
Three days later, men, women, children, animals, all gathered in the courtyard of the royal palace. Beats of the tam-tam and chords of the balafons, the great African music, the true music of our ancestors, filled the air. The king sat down upon his throne, surrounded by his ministers and dignitaries. The three young girls were seated at the feet of their father.
The streets swarmed with crowds, it seemed that every person who had ever heard of the princesses had made the journey to the palace that day. The crowd kept flowing into the courtyard in a never-ending stream.
Once the sun rose to the top of the baobab tree on the horizon, a horn sounded, announcing the opening of the competition. Not even a fly buzzed. Every creature present had searched for three days for the names of the princesses. But no one had been successful. In their failure, they wanted to at least hear the winner reveal the names. Hopeful suitors waited impatiently to the right and to the left of the king, and began to pass in front of him to offer the names they had found or guessed. Each stole glances at the beautiful girls at the king’s feet, hearts bursting with hope of success. But all of the menl failed.
The chance was then given to the animals to try. But Lion, Elephant, Buffalo, Panther, all failed.
Then Hare approached the throne, his large feet padding soundlessly on the packed dirt. The crowd began to throw insults:
“All the respectable men and animals passed through without success,” they cried,”what can we possibly expect of a skinny little hare?”
Everyone murmured, expressing their indignation, ignorant of how sharp a mind the hare had.
And in truth, well before the eve of the trials, Hare had reached an understanding with Turtledove. This bird went and hid herself in a guava tree in the heart of the royal garden where the three sisters loved to play and tease one another, pulling each other’s clothes and long shiny tresses.
The Turtledove perched on a branch directly above them and shook her beak to let a kola nut fall in the middle of the girls. (The princesses were very fond of kola nuts, but they found them only very rarely or not at all.) The girls began to fight and bicker, calling one another by their names. Again Turtledove released a nut, then a third.
The oldest daughter, Lali, had gathered them. She took one for herself, then called over Meyi, the youngest, and gave her one, then called Batsi, the middle child, and gave her the last. The Turtledove noted the three names in the meantime and flew off to confide them to the Hare, who left her the rest of the pile of kola nuts he had gathered. Well, he left her what remained after he had munched on them while he waited, of course.
In front of the king, taking the ministers and dignitaries as witnesses, the Hare revealed the mysterious names. The king tried vainly to hide his despair that he had to take Hare as his son-in-law. But true to his word, he gave his three daughters in marriage to Hare that same day. But the blow to his pride troubled him so severely that he went mad and hung himself only a few days after giving up the throne to Hare and his wives.
The Council of Humans was also very disturbed by the situation. They could not submit to being ruled over by a beast. So they decided to assassinate Hare.
Drunk with the wine of kings and the joy of the marriage bed, Hare was oblivious to the machinations around him. And so, the daughters of the king began to disappear one by one from the household of the Hare who, in turn, was found dead one morning under the talking tree.
Translated and adapted by Rose Lindgren
Once upon a time, there was a king who had three daughters. The daughters were very beautiful but very mysterious. No one in the entire kingdom knew their names. As soon as the daughters grew old enough to be married, offers of betrothal flowed in from every corner of the country from rich men. But the king rejected all of them.
One day, he had all his subjects gather together, both men and animals. “I want to give my daughters in marriage,” he declared to them, “to someone worthy. He who returns in three days time and can tell me the names of my daughters will become my son, husband of my daughters.”
Three days later, men, women, children, animals, all gathered in the courtyard of the royal palace. Beats of the tam-tam and chords of the balafons, the great African music, the true music of our ancestors, filled the air. The king sat down upon his throne, surrounded by his ministers and dignitaries. The three young girls were seated at the feet of their father.
The streets swarmed with crowds, it seemed that every person who had ever heard of the princesses had made the journey to the palace that day. The crowd kept flowing into the courtyard in a never-ending stream.
Once the sun rose to the top of the baobab tree on the horizon, a horn sounded, announcing the opening of the competition. Not even a fly buzzed. Every creature present had searched for three days for the names of the princesses. But no one had been successful. In their failure, they wanted to at least hear the winner reveal the names. Hopeful suitors waited impatiently to the right and to the left of the king, and began to pass in front of him to offer the names they had found or guessed. Each stole glances at the beautiful girls at the king’s feet, hearts bursting with hope of success. But all of the menl failed.
The chance was then given to the animals to try. But Lion, Elephant, Buffalo, Panther, all failed.
Then Hare approached the throne, his large feet padding soundlessly on the packed dirt. The crowd began to throw insults:
“All the respectable men and animals passed through without success,” they cried,”what can we possibly expect of a skinny little hare?”
Everyone murmured, expressing their indignation, ignorant of how sharp a mind the hare had.
And in truth, well before the eve of the trials, Hare had reached an understanding with Turtledove. This bird went and hid herself in a guava tree in the heart of the royal garden where the three sisters loved to play and tease one another, pulling each other’s clothes and long shiny tresses.
The Turtledove perched on a branch directly above them and shook her beak to let a kola nut fall in the middle of the girls. (The princesses were very fond of kola nuts, but they found them only very rarely or not at all.) The girls began to fight and bicker, calling one another by their names. Again Turtledove released a nut, then a third.
The oldest daughter, Lali, had gathered them. She took one for herself, then called over Meyi, the youngest, and gave her one, then called Batsi, the middle child, and gave her the last. The Turtledove noted the three names in the meantime and flew off to confide them to the Hare, who left her the rest of the pile of kola nuts he had gathered. Well, he left her what remained after he had munched on them while he waited, of course.
In front of the king, taking the ministers and dignitaries as witnesses, the Hare revealed the mysterious names. The king tried vainly to hide his despair that he had to take Hare as his son-in-law. But true to his word, he gave his three daughters in marriage to Hare that same day. But the blow to his pride troubled him so severely that he went mad and hung himself only a few days after giving up the throne to Hare and his wives.
The Council of Humans was also very disturbed by the situation. They could not submit to being ruled over by a beast. So they decided to assassinate Hare.
Drunk with the wine of kings and the joy of the marriage bed, Hare was oblivious to the machinations around him. And so, the daughters of the king began to disappear one by one from the household of the Hare who, in turn, was found dead one morning under the talking tree.
28 January 2010
How the animals got their skeletons
How the animals got their skeletons
At the very beginning of the world, Mawu created all the animals without skeletons. Because they had no bones all the animals moved and looked like colorful blobs, crawling as best they could on the land. Seeing that animals needed bones, Mawu sent down a blacksmith to forge skeletons for all the animals. The name of the blacksmith was Atofe. Atofe looked carefully at each animal and built them skeletons of all shapes and sizes and uses so that each animal would be different and special. From the rising of the sun to the rising of the moon, the animals crowded on the path to the blacksmith's shop. Some even spent the night outside his house hoping to be the first to receive a skeleton the next morning.
Snake was one of the first to get a skeleton. As he slithered away, he met his friend on the path and asked him "Why aren't you in the line to get a skeleton at the blacksmith's shop. He won't be here forever you know!"
The friend replied "Don't worry about me. I will have my skeleton when the time is right. Maybe tomorrow. The blacksmith is my uncle, he will not forget me."
Several weeks passed and Lion, Giraffe, Elephant and Lizard walked away proud and strong with their new skeletons. Only a few animals were still waiting in front of the blacksmith shop.
But when Snake met his friend again, he saw that he still didn't have his skeleton. "My friend! Why don't you have your skeleton yet?" he asked.
"My friend, don't worry about me. I will have my skeleton when the time is right. Maybe tomorrow. The blacksmith is my uncle, he will not forget me."
A few weeks later, the blacksmith fell sick. His nephew, the Snake's friend, came to visit him but the blacksmith was too weak to lift his hammer and forge a skeleton. Soon after, the blacksmith died.
The Snake met his friend on the path again. "My friend, you don't have a skeleton!" he cried, surprised.
The friend was so ashamed his whole body turned pink and he fled to hide in the ground. It is from this day that the Snake's friend was called the Earthworm because he has no skeleton and lives hidden in the earth.
From this story, we learn that if you put it off until tomorrow, you may lose your chance.
Celui qui attend pour demain
Va le perdre en chemin
At the very beginning of the world, Mawu created all the animals without skeletons. Because they had no bones all the animals moved and looked like colorful blobs, crawling as best they could on the land. Seeing that animals needed bones, Mawu sent down a blacksmith to forge skeletons for all the animals. The name of the blacksmith was Atofe. Atofe looked carefully at each animal and built them skeletons of all shapes and sizes and uses so that each animal would be different and special. From the rising of the sun to the rising of the moon, the animals crowded on the path to the blacksmith's shop. Some even spent the night outside his house hoping to be the first to receive a skeleton the next morning.
Snake was one of the first to get a skeleton. As he slithered away, he met his friend on the path and asked him "Why aren't you in the line to get a skeleton at the blacksmith's shop. He won't be here forever you know!"
The friend replied "Don't worry about me. I will have my skeleton when the time is right. Maybe tomorrow. The blacksmith is my uncle, he will not forget me."
Several weeks passed and Lion, Giraffe, Elephant and Lizard walked away proud and strong with their new skeletons. Only a few animals were still waiting in front of the blacksmith shop.
But when Snake met his friend again, he saw that he still didn't have his skeleton. "My friend! Why don't you have your skeleton yet?" he asked.
"My friend, don't worry about me. I will have my skeleton when the time is right. Maybe tomorrow. The blacksmith is my uncle, he will not forget me."
A few weeks later, the blacksmith fell sick. His nephew, the Snake's friend, came to visit him but the blacksmith was too weak to lift his hammer and forge a skeleton. Soon after, the blacksmith died.
The Snake met his friend on the path again. "My friend, you don't have a skeleton!" he cried, surprised.
The friend was so ashamed his whole body turned pink and he fled to hide in the ground. It is from this day that the Snake's friend was called the Earthworm because he has no skeleton and lives hidden in the earth.
From this story, we learn that if you put it off until tomorrow, you may lose your chance.
Celui qui attend pour demain
Va le perdre en chemin
09 January 2010
Goloto the Spider and the Princess
Goloto the Spider and the Princess
Goloto l’Araignee et la Princesse
Yivi Golotoe kple Fiavi la
The sovereign of the watsi kingdom had a daughter, a daughter who was very beautiful but also very haughty. Seda was her name. Despite her fragile health (she vomited up even the smallest morsel that landed in her stomach, so she ate nothing that wasn’t made of either honey or bread), this princess saw herself as too dazzling to tend the cookfire of any ordinary household so she turned her nose up at all the rich men who came around to speak to her of love and marriage. But, you know it well, many proud women have fallen because of their bad choices.
In the lands of the king lived a spider-man called Goloto. The tales of the beauty of this girl echoed all the way out to him, and he waited with great anticipation for an opportunity to meet her and trick her into marrying him with a clever trap.
One night, Goloto the Spider was on the roof of his hut, covering it with new straw, when he saw Seda. She was on her way to her aunt’s house just a few streets away. Goloto the Spider quickly jumped off the roof, ran to get in front of her, splashing honey on all the grasses along the path. He left the empty gourd nestled in a little bush and hid himself nearby.
When she arrived at the path, Seda the Princess was surrounded by the scent of honey and thought she’d been transported to the heavenly kingdom of bees. She stopped, took a deep breath of the perfumed air, then set about licking the delicious leaves all around the path. In her joy, she thought the leaves smiled and beckoned to her. She made her way up the path until she reached the empty gourd. She noticed a few droplets of honey still on the bottom and reached out her hand to pick it up. She had barely touched it when Goloto the Spier bounded out, grabbed her and began clamoring to have his honey back.
The princess bowed her head in confusion, tears stained her white flowered dress. She begged Goloto the Spider and promised to exchange the honey she’d eaten for her jewelry, but Goloto the Spider refused all her proposals.
“Since you do not have my honey to give back to me,” he said to the princess, “the only thing to do is to marry me, to prevent me from going throughout the kingdom crying out that the king’s Beauty stole my honey.”
Now, as you know, being a thief is a very serious offense. But it was even more serious in the princess’s kingdom. If she were accused of theft, she would be beaten and then banished forever, sent far away from her beloved father and forced to live on her own.
So, hearing the words of Goloto the Spider, Seda through herself into the arms of Goloto the Spider and became his wife. The two new lovers then walked arm in arm to the doors of the palace where Seda went to her knees before the man and begged him not to accompany her further. Goloto the Spider said nothing.
He waited in front of the house for hours, but the princess didn’t come back. Unable to wait any longer, because soon the sun would set, he went in to find her in the palace.
“Ooh!” she said with disdain on seeing him, “I told you to wait for me on the doorstep, no? I will come see you! Why are you here?”
“Do you want to be quiet?” grumbled Goloto the Spider angrily, “or perhaps, do you want me to go shout your crime from the rooftops?”
Seda was quiet. She already knew just what the Spider was capable of.
This skinny tyrant became all chubby during the three months spent in the palace, under the princess’ bed, where he hid every time a servant came to attend to his companion. Seda’s pride waned like a crescent moon while her belly waxed to fullness. Once Seda’s pregnancy was obvious, Goloto the Spider disappeared from the palace.
The king had the great gong rung, demanding the father of the Seda’s baby to present himself, but no one came forward. The princess herself, ashamed of her proud beauty now sullied by Goloto the Spider, was always in tears and now only opened her mouth to eat her bread and honey.
Finally, she gave birth to a boy. They announced the news to all of the village but still the father did not come forward. The child grew to three years of age. The king, still obsessed with knowing the father of the child, gathered all of his subjects and ordered his grandson to tour the assembly to show him his father.
Could you guess that, in that huge crowd, the child would go nestle up between the legs of Goloto the Spider? A thunder of applause mixed with cries of shock and horror spread through the huge crowd for a long time. And the king left the boy in the care of his father that night, reminding his subjects of the old Mina proverb:
“No matter where or how far away a prince lives, he always belongs to the king.”
But young girls’ should heed the lesson that if they’re too picky they could end up with Goloto the Spider for a mate.
Goloto l’Araignee et la Princesse
Yivi Golotoe kple Fiavi la
The sovereign of the watsi kingdom had a daughter, a daughter who was very beautiful but also very haughty. Seda was her name. Despite her fragile health (she vomited up even the smallest morsel that landed in her stomach, so she ate nothing that wasn’t made of either honey or bread), this princess saw herself as too dazzling to tend the cookfire of any ordinary household so she turned her nose up at all the rich men who came around to speak to her of love and marriage. But, you know it well, many proud women have fallen because of their bad choices.
In the lands of the king lived a spider-man called Goloto. The tales of the beauty of this girl echoed all the way out to him, and he waited with great anticipation for an opportunity to meet her and trick her into marrying him with a clever trap.
One night, Goloto the Spider was on the roof of his hut, covering it with new straw, when he saw Seda. She was on her way to her aunt’s house just a few streets away. Goloto the Spider quickly jumped off the roof, ran to get in front of her, splashing honey on all the grasses along the path. He left the empty gourd nestled in a little bush and hid himself nearby.
When she arrived at the path, Seda the Princess was surrounded by the scent of honey and thought she’d been transported to the heavenly kingdom of bees. She stopped, took a deep breath of the perfumed air, then set about licking the delicious leaves all around the path. In her joy, she thought the leaves smiled and beckoned to her. She made her way up the path until she reached the empty gourd. She noticed a few droplets of honey still on the bottom and reached out her hand to pick it up. She had barely touched it when Goloto the Spier bounded out, grabbed her and began clamoring to have his honey back.
The princess bowed her head in confusion, tears stained her white flowered dress. She begged Goloto the Spider and promised to exchange the honey she’d eaten for her jewelry, but Goloto the Spider refused all her proposals.
“Since you do not have my honey to give back to me,” he said to the princess, “the only thing to do is to marry me, to prevent me from going throughout the kingdom crying out that the king’s Beauty stole my honey.”
Now, as you know, being a thief is a very serious offense. But it was even more serious in the princess’s kingdom. If she were accused of theft, she would be beaten and then banished forever, sent far away from her beloved father and forced to live on her own.
So, hearing the words of Goloto the Spider, Seda through herself into the arms of Goloto the Spider and became his wife. The two new lovers then walked arm in arm to the doors of the palace where Seda went to her knees before the man and begged him not to accompany her further. Goloto the Spider said nothing.
He waited in front of the house for hours, but the princess didn’t come back. Unable to wait any longer, because soon the sun would set, he went in to find her in the palace.
“Ooh!” she said with disdain on seeing him, “I told you to wait for me on the doorstep, no? I will come see you! Why are you here?”
“Do you want to be quiet?” grumbled Goloto the Spider angrily, “or perhaps, do you want me to go shout your crime from the rooftops?”
Seda was quiet. She already knew just what the Spider was capable of.
This skinny tyrant became all chubby during the three months spent in the palace, under the princess’ bed, where he hid every time a servant came to attend to his companion. Seda’s pride waned like a crescent moon while her belly waxed to fullness. Once Seda’s pregnancy was obvious, Goloto the Spider disappeared from the palace.
The king had the great gong rung, demanding the father of the Seda’s baby to present himself, but no one came forward. The princess herself, ashamed of her proud beauty now sullied by Goloto the Spider, was always in tears and now only opened her mouth to eat her bread and honey.
Finally, she gave birth to a boy. They announced the news to all of the village but still the father did not come forward. The child grew to three years of age. The king, still obsessed with knowing the father of the child, gathered all of his subjects and ordered his grandson to tour the assembly to show him his father.
Could you guess that, in that huge crowd, the child would go nestle up between the legs of Goloto the Spider? A thunder of applause mixed with cries of shock and horror spread through the huge crowd for a long time. And the king left the boy in the care of his father that night, reminding his subjects of the old Mina proverb:
“No matter where or how far away a prince lives, he always belongs to the king.”
But young girls’ should heed the lesson that if they’re too picky they could end up with Goloto the Spider for a mate.
21 October 2009
The Young Girl and Aia the Spirit
The Young Girl and Aia the Spirit
La jeune fille et Aia le genie
In our ancestral village, there was a forest full not only of animals, but also with strang murmuring winds and spirits of all kinds. Not far from this forest stood a huge Lokoti tree, a great spirit-tree that all the inhabitants worshipped. A poor blacksmith and his wife lived near this tree. Many many years rolled by and their hair began to take on the color of pure cotton white, before they had their first and only child, a girl called Liokin.
With the birth of their daughter, the parents seemed to take joy in life again. They became blessed with fortune. They prospered at every task they attempted. Liokin grew, beautiful as the most beautiful rose. Her beauty turned the heads of all the men and each one showered his gods with offerings in the hope one day taking Liokin as wife.
From all over, rich and poor, lords and peasants, all tumbled over themselves to admire her. She was not at all haughty, the little Liokin; she received each one who presented himself to her and advised each one to speak with her father about having her hand in marriage.
However, her father had among his friends, without knowing it, a Spirit-man who helped him with his work and brought him gifts. He convinced the father to give him Liokin’s hand in marriage, Liokin, according to custom had no say in the decision.
One night, Liokin, went out to fetch water, her jar on her head, when a young man from the neighboring village stopped her. He must have watched her and learned the time when she went to the well for water. He had lain in wait for her. He spoke to her of her beauty and offered his love. Liokin did not hide her regret, and told the young man of her upcoming marriage with a man who used her father’s smithing assistant and whose name is Aia. At his questions, Liokin described Aia quickly. The young man, who hunted, fished and traveled to market with all the young men of the village, was astonished to never have met this Aia.
Stories of spirits from the neighboring forest that would transform into young men to come and steal away the girls of the village were too widespread for Liokin to ignore the doubts about the identity of this mysterious fiancé that trembled in her heart. Her curiosity rose: she wanted to know where her fiancé was from, his family home.
A few days later, she told her father about her investigations and broke off her engagement with the Spirit immediately against her parents’ wishes.
Liokin’s marriage to the young man she met at the well enfuriated the spirits of the forest. The young man was hunted by Aia; the blacksmith cursed and disowned his daughter because he was in the clutches of the terrible spirit. The spirit wrecked the smithy and attracted all sorts of evils to harass the family.
But the father did not suffer for long. His son-in-law succeeded at defeating Aia, and thanks to that, he ended his days in peace.
La jeune fille et Aia le genie
In our ancestral village, there was a forest full not only of animals, but also with strang murmuring winds and spirits of all kinds. Not far from this forest stood a huge Lokoti tree, a great spirit-tree that all the inhabitants worshipped. A poor blacksmith and his wife lived near this tree. Many many years rolled by and their hair began to take on the color of pure cotton white, before they had their first and only child, a girl called Liokin.
With the birth of their daughter, the parents seemed to take joy in life again. They became blessed with fortune. They prospered at every task they attempted. Liokin grew, beautiful as the most beautiful rose. Her beauty turned the heads of all the men and each one showered his gods with offerings in the hope one day taking Liokin as wife.
From all over, rich and poor, lords and peasants, all tumbled over themselves to admire her. She was not at all haughty, the little Liokin; she received each one who presented himself to her and advised each one to speak with her father about having her hand in marriage.
However, her father had among his friends, without knowing it, a Spirit-man who helped him with his work and brought him gifts. He convinced the father to give him Liokin’s hand in marriage, Liokin, according to custom had no say in the decision.
One night, Liokin, went out to fetch water, her jar on her head, when a young man from the neighboring village stopped her. He must have watched her and learned the time when she went to the well for water. He had lain in wait for her. He spoke to her of her beauty and offered his love. Liokin did not hide her regret, and told the young man of her upcoming marriage with a man who used her father’s smithing assistant and whose name is Aia. At his questions, Liokin described Aia quickly. The young man, who hunted, fished and traveled to market with all the young men of the village, was astonished to never have met this Aia.
Stories of spirits from the neighboring forest that would transform into young men to come and steal away the girls of the village were too widespread for Liokin to ignore the doubts about the identity of this mysterious fiancé that trembled in her heart. Her curiosity rose: she wanted to know where her fiancé was from, his family home.
A few days later, she told her father about her investigations and broke off her engagement with the Spirit immediately against her parents’ wishes.
Liokin’s marriage to the young man she met at the well enfuriated the spirits of the forest. The young man was hunted by Aia; the blacksmith cursed and disowned his daughter because he was in the clutches of the terrible spirit. The spirit wrecked the smithy and attracted all sorts of evils to harass the family.
But the father did not suffer for long. His son-in-law succeeded at defeating Aia, and thanks to that, he ended his days in peace.
03 September 2009
The Orphan
The Orphan
Conte de Kabye
Once upon a time there was a little boy in a little village who was more than a little sad. He had just lost his parents. His hair had grown while he was in mourning and his mother was not around to shave his head for him. Because he was an orphan he had no money and he could not find someone willing to cut his hair for free. Although he was poor, he was very clever, so he wandered through the village looking for something he could use to trade for a haircut. He arrived at the market and wandered around until he came to the place where the women sat all day selling salt. He stared at the ground and was scuffing his feet in the dirt when suddenly he noticed a small white shiny stone. He picked it up and discovered it was a single grain of salt that a buyer had forgotten in his haste. He picked it up carefully and found a stone to crush it into a fine powder. He gathered the powder and sprinkled it over his hair but he needed water to rub it in. The orphan was so poor that he didn’t even have enough money to own a calabash cup to drink from; so he asked a passer-by to give him a few drops of water. He wet down his hair and spread the salt dust over it.
Then he went to find Malo the Hairdresser and, telling her his story, he begged her to cut his hair. Malo pitied him and accepted. The orphan asked her to carefully place his cut hair to one side. Malo went to work and soon after the orphan’s hair was neatly shaved. The orphan stood and said to Malo:
“Tell me, Malo, do you want to taste my hair? Everyone tells me that it has a special taste.”
“I’ll try it”
Malo tasted the hair of the orphan and, greedily ate all of it.
“Ah! It was so good!” she said.
When the orphan was about to leave, Malo asked him to pay her for the haircut. The orphan and thought that Malo had accepted to do the haircut for free and was not happy. He angrily demanded that Malo give back his hair. She obviously couldn’t give back the hair so after a long discussion she gave him some shea oil in exchange.
The orphan took the oil, left the village and went to the shore of a lake nearby so he could perform his religious purification. While he was washing himself, the lake’s waters rose and lifted up the bottle of oil, tipping its contents out upon the waves. When the orphan emerged from the water, he was devastated that he had lost his fortune and sang a lament:
Lake, give me my oil!
This oil is from far far away,
It comes from Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
And the lake, pitying the distress of the orphan, since it could not give back the oil that had spilled and spread itself in tiny droplets all over the surface of the water, gave him the gift of a huge fish.
The orphan thanked the lake and continued on his path. He arrived in a forest at the edge of the wild jungle, and there he found a piece of wood burning with fiery embers. Since he was starving, he tossed the fish in the flames to cook it, but the flame was too hot and burned the fish up. The orphan cried at his misfortune and asked the fire to give back his fish, singing:
Fire, give me my fish!
That fish is from far far away
It comes from the lake
Who exchanged it
For the oil of Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
Touched by the desperation of the orphan, the piece of wood gave him some charcoal. He thanked the fire and continued on his path.
He soon arrived at a blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith asked him what he was carrying. The orphan held out the charcoal and the blacksmith took it, adding it to his fire so he could continue his work. The orphan got upset and sang:
Blacksmith, give me my charcoal!
My charcoal wasn’t a gift
It comes from the fire
Who exchanged it for my fish
My fish wasn’t a gift
That fish was from far far away
It comes from the lake
Who took my oil
The oil was from far far away
It was from Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
The blacksmith, ashamed of having profited from the poor goods of an orphan, gave him in exchange the gift of a newly forged hoe. The orphan thanked the blacksmith and continued on his path.
He soon arrived in a country where all the farmers were using pieces of broken plates and bowls to dig and plow their fields. He addressed the farmers:
“What miracle do you hope to accomplish here? Why are you farming the earth with broken bits instead of metal hoes?”
“But we don’t have any of those, we don’t even know what they are!” responded the farmers.
“Well then, if you want it, take mine.” The orphan said to them.
So they put to use the orphan’s hoe and by using it, they increased their harvest and had much less difficultly working in the fields. As a gift they offered to the orphan a bundle of millet. He thanked the farmers and continued on his path.
Next he arrived in a country that was suffering from famine. In passing along side a river, he came across a woman seated on the bank with her children, trying to coax them into eating the wet sand.
“Tell me, Woman, don’t you want to give millet porridge to your children?”
“I would very much like to, but I don’t have any millet to prepare porridge. I have nothing to feed them.” She responded.
The orphan offered her the bundle of millet and went off to find a place in this country to settle.
A few days later, he returned to the woman’s house and asked to collect his debt. Because the woman was poor and had nothing, she could not give back the millet; therefore she gave in exchange the only thing she had left: one of her children. The orphan took the child, thanked the woman and left.
He chose some land in the country and had the child build him a hut, the child became thus the first slave. And he lived in the hut with his slave.
This is how, in the beginning, we used to exchange people for food.
And here's an alternative ending for those of you who thought that was a little weird:
The orphan married the woman’s daughter and together they built a hut and worked the land and raised many children.
This is how even poor orphans can succeed if they are clever and resourceful.
Conte de Kabye
Once upon a time there was a little boy in a little village who was more than a little sad. He had just lost his parents. His hair had grown while he was in mourning and his mother was not around to shave his head for him. Because he was an orphan he had no money and he could not find someone willing to cut his hair for free. Although he was poor, he was very clever, so he wandered through the village looking for something he could use to trade for a haircut. He arrived at the market and wandered around until he came to the place where the women sat all day selling salt. He stared at the ground and was scuffing his feet in the dirt when suddenly he noticed a small white shiny stone. He picked it up and discovered it was a single grain of salt that a buyer had forgotten in his haste. He picked it up carefully and found a stone to crush it into a fine powder. He gathered the powder and sprinkled it over his hair but he needed water to rub it in. The orphan was so poor that he didn’t even have enough money to own a calabash cup to drink from; so he asked a passer-by to give him a few drops of water. He wet down his hair and spread the salt dust over it.
Then he went to find Malo the Hairdresser and, telling her his story, he begged her to cut his hair. Malo pitied him and accepted. The orphan asked her to carefully place his cut hair to one side. Malo went to work and soon after the orphan’s hair was neatly shaved. The orphan stood and said to Malo:
“Tell me, Malo, do you want to taste my hair? Everyone tells me that it has a special taste.”
“I’ll try it”
Malo tasted the hair of the orphan and, greedily ate all of it.
“Ah! It was so good!” she said.
When the orphan was about to leave, Malo asked him to pay her for the haircut. The orphan and thought that Malo had accepted to do the haircut for free and was not happy. He angrily demanded that Malo give back his hair. She obviously couldn’t give back the hair so after a long discussion she gave him some shea oil in exchange.
The orphan took the oil, left the village and went to the shore of a lake nearby so he could perform his religious purification. While he was washing himself, the lake’s waters rose and lifted up the bottle of oil, tipping its contents out upon the waves. When the orphan emerged from the water, he was devastated that he had lost his fortune and sang a lament:
Lake, give me my oil!
This oil is from far far away,
It comes from Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
And the lake, pitying the distress of the orphan, since it could not give back the oil that had spilled and spread itself in tiny droplets all over the surface of the water, gave him the gift of a huge fish.
The orphan thanked the lake and continued on his path. He arrived in a forest at the edge of the wild jungle, and there he found a piece of wood burning with fiery embers. Since he was starving, he tossed the fish in the flames to cook it, but the flame was too hot and burned the fish up. The orphan cried at his misfortune and asked the fire to give back his fish, singing:
Fire, give me my fish!
That fish is from far far away
It comes from the lake
Who exchanged it
For the oil of Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
Touched by the desperation of the orphan, the piece of wood gave him some charcoal. He thanked the fire and continued on his path.
He soon arrived at a blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith asked him what he was carrying. The orphan held out the charcoal and the blacksmith took it, adding it to his fire so he could continue his work. The orphan got upset and sang:
Blacksmith, give me my charcoal!
My charcoal wasn’t a gift
It comes from the fire
Who exchanged it for my fish
My fish wasn’t a gift
That fish was from far far away
It comes from the lake
Who took my oil
The oil was from far far away
It was from Malo the Hairdresser
Malo the Hairdresser ate my hair
The oil was payment, not a gift
My hair is from far far away
My hair was given to me as my inheritance
From my father and my mother
The blacksmith, ashamed of having profited from the poor goods of an orphan, gave him in exchange the gift of a newly forged hoe. The orphan thanked the blacksmith and continued on his path.
He soon arrived in a country where all the farmers were using pieces of broken plates and bowls to dig and plow their fields. He addressed the farmers:
“What miracle do you hope to accomplish here? Why are you farming the earth with broken bits instead of metal hoes?”
“But we don’t have any of those, we don’t even know what they are!” responded the farmers.
“Well then, if you want it, take mine.” The orphan said to them.
So they put to use the orphan’s hoe and by using it, they increased their harvest and had much less difficultly working in the fields. As a gift they offered to the orphan a bundle of millet. He thanked the farmers and continued on his path.
Next he arrived in a country that was suffering from famine. In passing along side a river, he came across a woman seated on the bank with her children, trying to coax them into eating the wet sand.
“Tell me, Woman, don’t you want to give millet porridge to your children?”
“I would very much like to, but I don’t have any millet to prepare porridge. I have nothing to feed them.” She responded.
The orphan offered her the bundle of millet and went off to find a place in this country to settle.
A few days later, he returned to the woman’s house and asked to collect his debt. Because the woman was poor and had nothing, she could not give back the millet; therefore she gave in exchange the only thing she had left: one of her children. The orphan took the child, thanked the woman and left.
He chose some land in the country and had the child build him a hut, the child became thus the first slave. And he lived in the hut with his slave.
This is how, in the beginning, we used to exchange people for food.
And here's an alternative ending for those of you who thought that was a little weird:
The orphan married the woman’s daughter and together they built a hut and worked the land and raised many children.
This is how even poor orphans can succeed if they are clever and resourceful.
16 April 2009
The King, his wife and their son Safudu Kwaku
The King, his wife and their son Safudu Kwaku
Le Roi, sa femme et son fils Safudu Kwaku
Fia, Sroa kple via Safudu Kwaku
Once upon a time a jealous and cruel King accused his son of offending him by his behavior towards his mother the Queen. To prove his innocence, Safudu Kwaku proposed to his father that he would submit himself to the judgment of God.
The King accepted this proposal and sent some of his men to Gè with the order to buy him a sword and a spike. When these objects were brought to him, the King had them sharpened for seventeen days.
When they were sharpened, he had the spike and the sword driven into the earth under a very tall Baobab tree. Then he invited everyone to come attend the judgment of God. The King, his wife and the prince were transported in a hammock to the location where the ordeal would take place.
When they arrived at their destination, the King ordered Safudu Kwaku to climb the great tree and throw himself down onto the points of the sword and the spike. The mother of the prince cried from fear for her son; but as for the prince himself, he was unafraid because he knew that he had not committed the fault for which he was being reproached.
Safudu Kwaku climbed to the summit of the tree and began to sing, calling out the names of his powerful ancestors and asking them to let him die if he was guilty but save him if he was faithful and innocent. He invoked all the powers of the ancestors with his beautiful song.
Dedende manyimoto
Safudu Kwaku dedende manyimoto
Samafa hinihini
Dedende somapa wo mampa
Dedende manymato
When he had finished his song, he hurled himself to the ground and was not hurt at all. But the King declared that he had not seen him climb up or fall down from the tree because, he claimed, “I was taking a bath.”
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up again to the very top of the tree and, after having sung like the first time, he threw himself to the ground. The King then declared that he’d only just gotten out of the bath at that moment and his son would have to climb up a third time.
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up a third time. The King declared he was receiving a spa treatment after his bath and, therefore, had not seen anything.
Safudu Kwaku began again the same actions as before. The King declared, “I was putting on my sandals.”
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up again a fifth time to the top of the tree and hurled himself down to the earth. “I was busy filling my snuff box with tobacco.”
When his son fell down from the tree for the sixth time, the King declared “It’s only just now that I can come to watch” and he ordered his son to climb up a seventh time.
All of the attendants by this time had taken the side of Safudu Kwaku, seeing that the power of the ancestors was with him. The murmured against the king, and urged the prince to ignore his command. But the prince climbed up once more – for the seventh time. While he was falling to the ground the great spirit Dzingbe grabbed hold of him and transformed him into a sunrise.
This is why when the sun rises and one wishes to see his face, he veils himself in brilliance saying “Seven times, I was treated unjustly”.
This is the reason why we cannot look into the face of the sun.
Recounted by F N’S ABGLEMAGNON
Le Roi, sa femme et son fils Safudu Kwaku
Fia, Sroa kple via Safudu Kwaku
Once upon a time a jealous and cruel King accused his son of offending him by his behavior towards his mother the Queen. To prove his innocence, Safudu Kwaku proposed to his father that he would submit himself to the judgment of God.
The King accepted this proposal and sent some of his men to Gè with the order to buy him a sword and a spike. When these objects were brought to him, the King had them sharpened for seventeen days.
When they were sharpened, he had the spike and the sword driven into the earth under a very tall Baobab tree. Then he invited everyone to come attend the judgment of God. The King, his wife and the prince were transported in a hammock to the location where the ordeal would take place.
When they arrived at their destination, the King ordered Safudu Kwaku to climb the great tree and throw himself down onto the points of the sword and the spike. The mother of the prince cried from fear for her son; but as for the prince himself, he was unafraid because he knew that he had not committed the fault for which he was being reproached.
Safudu Kwaku climbed to the summit of the tree and began to sing, calling out the names of his powerful ancestors and asking them to let him die if he was guilty but save him if he was faithful and innocent. He invoked all the powers of the ancestors with his beautiful song.
Dedende manyimoto
Safudu Kwaku dedende manyimoto
Samafa hinihini
Dedende somapa wo mampa
Dedende manymato
When he had finished his song, he hurled himself to the ground and was not hurt at all. But the King declared that he had not seen him climb up or fall down from the tree because, he claimed, “I was taking a bath.”
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up again to the very top of the tree and, after having sung like the first time, he threw himself to the ground. The King then declared that he’d only just gotten out of the bath at that moment and his son would have to climb up a third time.
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up a third time. The King declared he was receiving a spa treatment after his bath and, therefore, had not seen anything.
Safudu Kwaku began again the same actions as before. The King declared, “I was putting on my sandals.”
So Safudu Kwaku climbed up again a fifth time to the top of the tree and hurled himself down to the earth. “I was busy filling my snuff box with tobacco.”
When his son fell down from the tree for the sixth time, the King declared “It’s only just now that I can come to watch” and he ordered his son to climb up a seventh time.
All of the attendants by this time had taken the side of Safudu Kwaku, seeing that the power of the ancestors was with him. The murmured against the king, and urged the prince to ignore his command. But the prince climbed up once more – for the seventh time. While he was falling to the ground the great spirit Dzingbe grabbed hold of him and transformed him into a sunrise.
This is why when the sun rises and one wishes to see his face, he veils himself in brilliance saying “Seven times, I was treated unjustly”.
This is the reason why we cannot look into the face of the sun.
Recounted by F N’S ABGLEMAGNON
26 February 2009
Correspondance Match 26 February 2009
Here is a translation I did of a story from the book Contes et Légendes du Togo, published by L'Agence de la Francophonie.
The story is called "Odélo"
I've also attached three photos that I took back in July when I attended the enthroning of a new chief in the village of Apegame (ah pay gah may). They show the newly crowned Chief and his Queen, four women attendants who sang to welcome the chief, and the traditional healer/priest (a Christian pastor was also there to bless the occasion, but he wasn't dressed so interestingly!) I think the pictures do a good job of kind of illustrating the story; at least helping out with a mental picture of the characters mentioned.
I had a lot of fun doing the translation so I think I'll continue doing more and sending those along to you. My class started working on a letter describing their school and after-school activities, but our class was cut short due to Ash Wednesday services so we'll have to finish that next week. It's been a good exercise - learning how to write a letter is an important lesson for their exams.
Odélo
The Great Chief was rich and handsome. Despite his friends, his power, his forty-one wives, each one more beautiful than the last, he wasn’t happy, because he didn’t have any children. It caused him such sorrow that one day his old mother advised him, “Chief of chiefs, my son, you must go see the priest Itanko. Everyone says that he is a great master and that he knows the secret of life.”
Heeding this advice, the Great Chief traveled far through large towns and little villages to consult the magician. Itanko, already informed by his mysterious drum, was waiting for him on the threshold of his hut and welcomed him with the honor due to his position. After the traditional greetings, he said to him:
“Odoa, Chief of Chiefs, I know your problem. Here is a magic recipe that I entrust to you. Your forty-one wives must eat the dish that I will show you and soon you will have the good news of your fatherhood.”
Back in his village, as custom dictated, the Great Chief had his first wife called to him. “Wife,” he said, “Make a great dish, you will put into it these crushed snake ashes as well as some of these nourishing herbs. You will share out the meal equally among all of the wives.”
The first wife was named Kitia; she was mean and very jealous of Nayélé, the last wife of the chief, who was younger and prettier than her. Knowing the reason that motivated her husband’s visit to Itanko, she plotted with the other wives against Nayélé.
“My sisters,” she said, “Nayélé must not taste this dish!”
“No, she must not!” agreed the others.
“There is only one solution” continued Kitia, “We will organize a feast just for the wives.”
All the women looked at each other and began to laugh. Suddenly, Nayélé arrived and Kitia just barely had the time to quiet her companions. So Kitia organized the feast, and this meant that Nayélé, as the youngest, would have to serve the others. Therefore, she would be unabled to share the meal that would bring her the blessed gift of a baby child. But Nayélé was curious and loved good food. Knowing that when her turn to eat came, there would be no food left, she dipped her little finger into the bowl every so often and tasted it discretely before serving the others. Mm, and it was good!
When all had taken their part, naturally there was nothing left for her. Kitia rejoiced. But a few months later, it was Nayélé who gave birth to the baby that the Great Chief waited for so hopefully. It was a girl.
Kitia, mad with rage and jealousy, played a terrible trick. She made the other wives steal the baby as soon as it was born, before the Great Chief could see it, and leave it in the jungle. In the place of the baby, she put a block of wood. Kitia presented the “baby” to the Great Chief, saying, “Chief of Chiefs, my husband, the gods have not favored Nayélé. See what she has given birth to?”
As according to custom, the Great Chief trusted his first wife and believed that she was honest. So, in his disgust, he told his first wife to order the young wife to leave and go as far away as possible. “I never want to see her again!” declared the Great Chief.
“The Great Chief never wants to see you again, Nayélé. He ordered me to send you away.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” cried Nayélé. “Kitia, have pity on me, plead my case with him.”
Despite her tears and entreaties, Nayélé was renounced and exiled far from her husband.
As for the baby girl, well, the jungle has its own secrets. The snake Kiroa, one of the lords of the jungle, was smart and subtle. He knew an old woman who lived alone in a hut, near to the place where he liked to sleep. When he learned of the horrific action of these wives and the evil they had done to the child of Nayélé, he went to the house of the old woman and began to whisper. “Lisssten. Lissssten. A little girl isss lossst in the jungle.”
“Listen!” the words echoed “a little girl is lost in the jungle!”
The snake continued to whisper, “A little girl is lost in the jungle, quick, quick, you must go find her.”
And so the old woman who lived alone put on her most beautiful pagne, braided her hair and went out to search for the child those evil wives had stolen and abandoned. She brought the child to her home and named her Odélo.
The years passed...
Odélo became a joyful little girl, blessed in all things. She was intelligent and pretty. She sang and spoke with the birds and they understood her. Her chore was to guard the fields and harvest of the old woman. She worked with joy. The harvest was the most beautiful of the whole village. When the birds came to peck at the field, the girl simply sang to them, “Move along, little ones. Move along.”
One day, the Great Chief went out to his fields and found them devastated. He heard about a little eight-year-old girl who, by singing, kept the birds from stealing the grain. He called her to the palace and asked her, “Odélo, do you want to come guard my lands?”
“Chief of Chiefs, I cannot. I could not live a place from which my mother and I were exiled.”
“You trouble me, little one. Tell me, Odélo, who is your mother and who is your father?”
So the little girl sang the troubles of her heart:
I am a little bird
Raised by the jungle
My father didn’t want me
My mother was sent away
I am a little bird
Daughter of a chief
Now I watch the rich corn fields
Far from my father and mother
The Great Chief understood the song and took little Odélo into his arms asking, “Tell me, who is your mother? If she is among my wives, I will make her the Queen of my Kingdom.”
Little Odélo told the Great Chief the story of her birth as she had learned from the old woman.
She asked the Great Chief for permission to see her mother again.
What happiness for poor Nayélé, after such misery! The Great Chief had her found and brought back to the royal house. He held a great feast for her and dressed her in gold and silk.
Nayélé was even more beautiful than before. Full of happiness to be with the Great Chief, her daughter, and the wise old woman from the jungle, Nayélé pardoned Kitia for the wrongs she had committed.
But Kitia could not bear to see Nayélé so beautiful and happy. Her bitterness suffocated her. She died of shame and envy.
This teaches us that jealousy and lies have never brought happiness.
The story is called "Odélo"
I've also attached three photos that I took back in July when I attended the enthroning of a new chief in the village of Apegame (ah pay gah may). They show the newly crowned Chief and his Queen, four women attendants who sang to welcome the chief, and the traditional healer/priest (a Christian pastor was also there to bless the occasion, but he wasn't dressed so interestingly!) I think the pictures do a good job of kind of illustrating the story; at least helping out with a mental picture of the characters mentioned.
I had a lot of fun doing the translation so I think I'll continue doing more and sending those along to you. My class started working on a letter describing their school and after-school activities, but our class was cut short due to Ash Wednesday services so we'll have to finish that next week. It's been a good exercise - learning how to write a letter is an important lesson for their exams.
Odélo
The Great Chief was rich and handsome. Despite his friends, his power, his forty-one wives, each one more beautiful than the last, he wasn’t happy, because he didn’t have any children. It caused him such sorrow that one day his old mother advised him, “Chief of chiefs, my son, you must go see the priest Itanko. Everyone says that he is a great master and that he knows the secret of life.”
Heeding this advice, the Great Chief traveled far through large towns and little villages to consult the magician. Itanko, already informed by his mysterious drum, was waiting for him on the threshold of his hut and welcomed him with the honor due to his position. After the traditional greetings, he said to him:
“Odoa, Chief of Chiefs, I know your problem. Here is a magic recipe that I entrust to you. Your forty-one wives must eat the dish that I will show you and soon you will have the good news of your fatherhood.”
Back in his village, as custom dictated, the Great Chief had his first wife called to him. “Wife,” he said, “Make a great dish, you will put into it these crushed snake ashes as well as some of these nourishing herbs. You will share out the meal equally among all of the wives.”
The first wife was named Kitia; she was mean and very jealous of Nayélé, the last wife of the chief, who was younger and prettier than her. Knowing the reason that motivated her husband’s visit to Itanko, she plotted with the other wives against Nayélé.
“My sisters,” she said, “Nayélé must not taste this dish!”
“No, she must not!” agreed the others.
“There is only one solution” continued Kitia, “We will organize a feast just for the wives.”
All the women looked at each other and began to laugh. Suddenly, Nayélé arrived and Kitia just barely had the time to quiet her companions. So Kitia organized the feast, and this meant that Nayélé, as the youngest, would have to serve the others. Therefore, she would be unabled to share the meal that would bring her the blessed gift of a baby child. But Nayélé was curious and loved good food. Knowing that when her turn to eat came, there would be no food left, she dipped her little finger into the bowl every so often and tasted it discretely before serving the others. Mm, and it was good!
When all had taken their part, naturally there was nothing left for her. Kitia rejoiced. But a few months later, it was Nayélé who gave birth to the baby that the Great Chief waited for so hopefully. It was a girl.
Kitia, mad with rage and jealousy, played a terrible trick. She made the other wives steal the baby as soon as it was born, before the Great Chief could see it, and leave it in the jungle. In the place of the baby, she put a block of wood. Kitia presented the “baby” to the Great Chief, saying, “Chief of Chiefs, my husband, the gods have not favored Nayélé. See what she has given birth to?”
As according to custom, the Great Chief trusted his first wife and believed that she was honest. So, in his disgust, he told his first wife to order the young wife to leave and go as far away as possible. “I never want to see her again!” declared the Great Chief.
“The Great Chief never wants to see you again, Nayélé. He ordered me to send you away.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” cried Nayélé. “Kitia, have pity on me, plead my case with him.”
Despite her tears and entreaties, Nayélé was renounced and exiled far from her husband.
As for the baby girl, well, the jungle has its own secrets. The snake Kiroa, one of the lords of the jungle, was smart and subtle. He knew an old woman who lived alone in a hut, near to the place where he liked to sleep. When he learned of the horrific action of these wives and the evil they had done to the child of Nayélé, he went to the house of the old woman and began to whisper. “Lisssten. Lissssten. A little girl isss lossst in the jungle.”
“Listen!” the words echoed “a little girl is lost in the jungle!”
The snake continued to whisper, “A little girl is lost in the jungle, quick, quick, you must go find her.”
And so the old woman who lived alone put on her most beautiful pagne, braided her hair and went out to search for the child those evil wives had stolen and abandoned. She brought the child to her home and named her Odélo.
The years passed...
Odélo became a joyful little girl, blessed in all things. She was intelligent and pretty. She sang and spoke with the birds and they understood her. Her chore was to guard the fields and harvest of the old woman. She worked with joy. The harvest was the most beautiful of the whole village. When the birds came to peck at the field, the girl simply sang to them, “Move along, little ones. Move along.”
One day, the Great Chief went out to his fields and found them devastated. He heard about a little eight-year-old girl who, by singing, kept the birds from stealing the grain. He called her to the palace and asked her, “Odélo, do you want to come guard my lands?”
“Chief of Chiefs, I cannot. I could not live a place from which my mother and I were exiled.”
“You trouble me, little one. Tell me, Odélo, who is your mother and who is your father?”
So the little girl sang the troubles of her heart:
I am a little bird
Raised by the jungle
My father didn’t want me
My mother was sent away
I am a little bird
Daughter of a chief
Now I watch the rich corn fields
Far from my father and mother
The Great Chief understood the song and took little Odélo into his arms asking, “Tell me, who is your mother? If she is among my wives, I will make her the Queen of my Kingdom.”
Little Odélo told the Great Chief the story of her birth as she had learned from the old woman.
She asked the Great Chief for permission to see her mother again.
What happiness for poor Nayélé, after such misery! The Great Chief had her found and brought back to the royal house. He held a great feast for her and dressed her in gold and silk.
Nayélé was even more beautiful than before. Full of happiness to be with the Great Chief, her daughter, and the wise old woman from the jungle, Nayélé pardoned Kitia for the wrongs she had committed.
But Kitia could not bear to see Nayélé so beautiful and happy. Her bitterness suffocated her. She died of shame and envy.
This teaches us that jealousy and lies have never brought happiness.
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