Suriname folk-lore

51. Ma Akuba fredɛ fō Amer'ką.

Wą' dei̯ Anąnsi mɛ̨n wani fō nyąm foru-meti nąŋga dɔksi, bikasi Ma Akuba mɛ̨' habi wą' bɩgi kweki fō fou̯ru nąŋga dɔksi. Ma a no mɛ̨n dɛ gi' Anąnsi foru-meti fō nyąm. Dati 'ɛdɛ Anąnsi meki wą' kɔni fō kan nyąm ala den kweki fō Ma Akuba. Anąnsi kɔm wą' bakadina lati na 'oso. Ɛn Ma Akuba aksi hɛm pɛ a kɔmōtō, ɛn a tai̯gi hɛm dat' ɛ̨ŋ kɔmōtō na sɩpi, na wą' Ameriką' Kaptɛn di dɛ ɛ̨ŋ mati, ɛn dɑt' Ma Akuba mu' hɔri ɛ̨ŋ sɛrefi klari, bikasi na

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Kaptɛn de a go kɔm fō luku hɛm. Ɛn dɑt' Ma Akuba no muso gi' hɛm shɛm, ɛn dɑt' a muso meki wą' bɩgi tafra gi' ɛ̨ŋ, want' da mąn lɔbi foru-meti. Ma Akuba gimɛ, ‘Masra, fa mi go bɛgin? Mi fredɛ f'a Amer'ką', ɛn mi no sab' fō taki Ɛŋglish. Yu mu' sɔrgu dɑti yu de na 'oso te 'a Bakra kɔ̨' dia.’ ‘A bǫn,’ Anąnsi taki, ‘ma bɩgin mek' klar fō wą tafra, ma no gi' mi shɛ̨m.’ ‘Hm,’ Ma Akuba piki, ‘a bǫ', Kapten. Mi sɑ du są yu taki.’

Na serefi neti Anąnsi lɛni wąn bɩgi yas, wą' broku, wą' broru nąŋga wąn blaka brɩl. A naki 'a dɔro, ko, ko, ko, ko, ko. ‘Suma dapɛ?’ Ma Akuba aksi. Anąnsi piki, ‘ai̯ yam ɩt.’¹ Ma Akuba tai̯gi wą' fō den p'kin dat' ɛ̨ŋ meki a opo na dɔro gi na Bakra. Anąnsi kɔ̨' na ɩni, ɛn a taki, ‘Gutɩfnɩ̨ŋg, gutɩfnɩ̨ŋg!’ Ma Akuba nąŋga den twarf' pikin meki kosi gi na Bakra, ɛn hari ɛ̨ŋ futu. ‘Nafu, mi Kaptein.’ ‘Gutɩfnɩ̨ŋg, gutɩfnɩ̨ŋg,’ Anąnsi piki. ‘Leti na lampu.’ ‘No, no, no, no,’ Anąnsi taki, ‘Mi 'abi soro hai̯, ɛn mi no ką' si fai̯a.’ Anąnsi sidǫ', ɛn a nyam ala na n'nyam. Ɛn Ma Akuba dati dɛ bei̯ti fō skreki, want' a no taki noiti nąŋga Amerikąn.

Di Anąnsi kaba nyąm, a tai̯g' ɛm taki, ‘Te Anąnsi kɔm, tai̯g' gi hɛm dɑt na n'yąm bɛn sui̯ti, ɛn dat a sɑ si mi baka. Ma tamara mamantɛ̨m meki a kɔm na mi na shɩpi. Ma Akuba, ɛf yu wani, yu ką' kɔm tu nąŋga dę' p'kin.’ ‘No, no, no, no, mi Kaptein. Mi frede f' g'a tap' watra.’

Anąnsi gowɛ. A pur' den krosi, ɛn a baka wąn yuru a kɔ̨' na 'oso. Ma Akuba kɩsi trɔbi nąŋga Anąnsi, bikasi na Bakra mɛ̨' i kɔm, ɛn 'ɛ' wąwą na dɛ na 'oso nąŋga den p'kin, ɛn dɛm no bɛn ką taki nąŋga hɛm. ‘Ma a nyąm?’ Anąnsi ɑksi. ‘Mm! Masra!’ Ma Akuba piki Anąnsi, ‘Ɛfu a nyą'? A dɛ wą' tumusi gridi mąn. Na mati f' yu nyąm sɛrefi dem bɔ̨nyo. A no lib' wą' p'kin pisi fō' den pikin ką' soi̯gi. A krį' na tafra.’

‘Nō, yu mu' presiri bikas' a dɛ wą' grani f'yu want' na n'nyąm bɛn sui̯ti. No so, a no bɛn dɛ go nyąm alamala. Mi blei̯t, bikasi ɛf' mi g'a shɩpi, na man dɛ gi mi ala sani dɑt' a habi. A no aks' yu wɩski fō drɩ̨ŋgi?’

‘San i 'ɛ taki, kaptein, wisi?’

‘No, no, wɩs-ki. Dɑti na wąn sɔrtu fō Amer'ką drɩ̨ŋgi.’

‘Mm! Na fɔs' trǫ' mi dɛ yɛri so wą' sani. Wisi.’

‘No, no, no, no. Wɩski, wɩski!’

‘Kal' i fa yu wani, mi no sabi ɛ̨ŋ. Mar Kaptei̯n, tąŋgi, tąŋgi, no go mɔro na mɔfo nei̯ti na dɔro, bikasi yu dɛ go kɔm feni mi dɛdɛ-dɛdɛ na ɩni mi 'oso, bikasi mi kra no tek' a Bakra.’ ‘No, yu no mu' frede f'ɛ̨ŋ, a dɛ wąn libi suma lei̯ki mi nąŋga yu.’

1 I.e., the American says, ‘I am it.’

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'A tra nei̯ti Anąnsi kɔm baka lei̯k' Amer'ką, ɛn Ma Akuba bɛn meki n'nyąm baka. Anąnsi kɔm baka lei̯k' Kaptein, ɛn a aksi baka, ‘Pɛ Anansi dɛ?’ Di Ma Akuba tai̯g' gi hɛm dat' Anąnsi bɛn go na shɩpi mamantɛn, bikasi Kaptein bɛn kari ɛ̨ŋ kɔ̨' na shɩpi. Sɩ̨nsi mamą'tɛn a gō na dɔro, ɛn a no kɔm baka na 'oso yɛtɛ. Kaptein kɩsi 'ati-brɔ̨n. A tek' ɛ̨ŋ tiki, ɛn nak' 'a tap' tafra. A taki ɛ̨ŋ feni ɛm moi̯ fō Anąnsi, bikasi ɛ̨ŋ bɛn taki nąŋga hɛm taki, ɛ̨ŋ dɛ go kɔm na 'oso, ɛn a mu' wakti hɛm, ɛn dat' ɛ̨ŋ no dɛ wą' p'kin boi̯ fō Anąnsi. A teki ɛ̨ŋ tɩki, a naki 'a tap' tafra baka. Ma Akuba skreki, ɛn ɛ̨ŋ a klei̯ne na grɔ̨' fō skreki. Kaptein sidǫ' tiri, dɛn a nyąm ala na nyąm baka. Na baka dɑti, a puri bɩgi pipa nąŋga Amer'ką tabaka, ɛn a bɩgɩn smoko te a i drųŋgu. Na baka dati, Anąnsi gowɛ.

Di a k'ɛnki ɛ̨ŋ krosi, a kɔ̨' na 'oso. A miti Ma Akuba nąŋga den p'kin dɛ krei̯. ‘San dɛ fō du agein?’ Anąnsi aksi ɛ̨ŋ. ‘San dɛ fō du?’ Ma Akuba piki, ‘A sani di yu wani yu go feni ɛm! Yu sɑ kɔ̨' feni mi dɛdɛ-dɛdɛ na ɩni na 'oso, bikasi na mati f'yu kɩsi wą' hatibrɔ̨n, dati bikasi yu no bɛn dɛ na hoso. Luku fa mi bɛg' yu! Mi teki mi dɛdɛ m'ma bɛg' yu fō yu no lib' mi wą'wąn mɔro na ɩn' na 'oso.’ Anąnsi piki Ma Akuba, ‘Ma Aku', yu no mu' dɛ so. Yu no gowɛnti nąŋga Bakra, no so, yu no bɛn sɑ dɛ so.’ ‘Masra, mi dɛ bɛg' yu fō yu no g'we mɔro na nei̯ti na dɔro, bikasi wąn ɔnxɛluku dɛ go p'sa.’ ‘No, no, Ma Akuba, mi no sɑ libi yu. Mi sɑ sɔrgu dat' mi dɛ na 'oso.’

Anąnsi du dati nąŋga Ma Akuba tɛ ala den kweki kaba. Na wą' nei̯ti Kaptein kɔ̨' baka, kɔ̨' suku Anąnsi. Ma Ma Akuba no bɛn meki nyanyąm, bikasi ala hɛm foru nąŋga dɔksi kaba. Kaptɛn kɩsi 'ati-brɔ̨ŋ, aksi, ‘Pɛ Anąnsi dɛ? Bikasi somɛni trǫ' mi dɛ kɔm na hɛm, ma mi no dɛ feni ɛ̨ŋ na 'oso. Ɛn te a kɔ̨' na mi, ala tɛ̨' mi dɛ.’

Ma Akuba hati b'gɩn brɔ̨n, ɛn a sɛri ɛ̨ŋ hɛdɛ. A teki wąn tamarin wɩpi, a fɔm Kaptɛn. Dąn Kaptɛn bɛgin bari, ‘Kaba, kaba, habi sari hati nąŋga mi! Mi a no Kaptɛn, ma mi na yu man Kɔ̨ŋgodifa.’

Dati ɛdɛ Anąnsi prati na tu. Na tamarin wɩpi naki ɛ̨ŋ na mɩndri ɛ̨ŋ bɛri.

51. Anansi Disguises as an American.³

One day Anansi wanted to eat fowl and duck, because Ma Akuba had a large chicken and duck farm. But she would never give Anansi chicken to eat. For that reason Anansi made up a trick so that he might eat the whole flock belonging to Ma Akuba. One afternoon Anansi came home late. And Ma Akuba asked him where he came from, and he told her that he came from a ship of an American Captain, who was his friend, and that Ma Akuba

3 Told by 10. For this tale, as written some years ago by the teller of it, see Van Cappelle 335-337, No. 21.

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must hold herself ready, because the Captain was going to come to see her. And that Ma Akuba must not bring shame on him, and that she must prepare a fine table for him, because the man loved fowl. Ma Akuba groaned, ‘Husband, how am I going to begin? I am afraid of Americans, and I don't know how to talk English. You must see to it that you are at home when the White man comes here.’ ‘All right,’ Anansi said, ‘but begin to prepare the meal, and don't shame me.’ ‘Hm,’ Ma Akuba said, ‘very well, Captain. I will do as you say.’

That same night Anansi borrowed a large coat, a pair of breeches, a high hat, and a pair of black spectacles. He knocked at the door, ko, ko, ko, ko, ko. ‘Who is there?’ Ma Akuba asked. Anansi answered, ‘I yam it.’² Ma Akuba told one of the children to open the door for the White man. Anansi entered, and said, ‘Gutifning, gutifning.’ Ma Akuba and the twelve children made a curtsy for the White man, and pulled their feet. ‘Good evening, Captain.’ ‘Gutifning, gutifning,’ Anansi answered. ‘Light the lamp.’ ‘No, no, no, no,’ Anansi said, ‘I have sore eyes, and I cannot look at a light.’ Anansi sat down, and he ate all the food. And Ma Akuba shook with fear, because she had never talked with Americans.

When Anansi was through eating he said to her, said, ‘When Anansi comes tell him the food was very good,³ and that he will see me again. But early tomorrow have him come to my ship. If you like, Ma Akuba, you and the children can come, too.’ ‘No, no, no, no, my Captain. I am afraid to go on the water.’

Anansi went away. He took off the clothes, and an hour later he came home. Ma Akuba quarreled with Anansi, because the White man had come, and she had been alone in the house with the children, and they had not been able to talk with him. ‘But he ate?’ Anansi asked. ‘Mm! Husband!’ Ma Akuba answered Anansi, ‘Did he eat! He is a very greedy man. This friend of yours ate even the bones. He did not leave even a small piece for the children to suck. He cleaned up the table.’

‘Now, you should be pleased, because it is a sign that your food was good. Otherwise he would not have eaten all. I am delighted, because if I go to the ship, the man will give me all the things he has. Didn't he ask you for whiskey to drink?’

‘What is it you are saying, husband, wisi?’⁴

‘No, no, whis-key. That is a kind of American drink.’

‘Mm! The first time I hear of such a thing. Wisi.’

‘No, no, no, no. Whis-key, whis-key.’

‘Call it what you like, I don't know it. But Captain, please, please, do not go out at night, because you are going to find me dead in my own house, because my 'kra⁵ does not take to the White men.’ ‘No, you must not be afraid of him, he is a human being like me and you.’

2 The story-teller is imitating American speech.

3 Lit., ‘sweet’.

4 Black magic.

5 Soul.

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The following night Anansi came again like an American, and Ma Akuba had prepared more food. Anansi came again as a Captain, and again he asked, ‘Where is Anansi?’ Ma Akuba told him that Anansi had gone to the ship in the morning, because the Captain had called him to come to the ship. He was gone since, and he had not yet come back to the house. The Captain got angry.¹ He took his stick, and struck the top of the table. He said he did not find it polite of Anansi, because he had said to him that he was going to come to his house, and that he must wait for him, and he was not a small boy of Anansi's. He took his stick and struck the top of the table again. Ma Akuba was frightened, and from fear she urinated on the ground. The Captain sat down quietly, and again ate all the food. After that, he took out a large pipe [filled] with American tobacco, and he began to smoke until he was drunk. After that Anansi went away.

When he changed his clothes, he came home. He found Ma Akuba and the children crying. ‘What is the matter again?’ Anansi asked them. ‘What is the matter?’ Ma Akuba said, ‘The thing that you want [to happen] you are going to find! You will come and find me dead in the house, because this friend of yours got angry, and that [happened] because you were not home. See how I plead with you! In the name of my dead mother, I beg you not to leave me alone in the house again.’ Anansi answered Ma Akuba, ‘Ma Aku', you must not act like this. You are not accustomed to White men, or you would not act so.’ ‘Husband, I beg you not to go out again at night, because a misfortune will come.’ ‘No, no, Ma Akuba, I will not leave you. I will see to it that I am home.’

Anansi did this with Ma Akuba until all the fowl which she had raised were gone. One night the Captain came again to look for Anansi. But Ma Akuba had not cooked food, because all her chickens and ducks were gone. The Captain got angry, and asked, ‘Where is Anansi? Because I come to him many times, but I haven't found him home. And when he comes to me I am always there.’

Ma Akuba began to get angry, and she lost her head. She took a tamarind whip and she struck the Captain. Then the Captain began to cry, ‘Enough, enough, have pity on me. I am not a Captain, but I am your husband, Kongodifa.’²

For this reason Anansi split into two parts. The tamarind whip struck him in the middle of his belly.

1 Lit., ‘caught heart burn’.

2 Strong name for Anansi.