Suriname folk-lore

120.

Wan papa bɛn dɛ, habi dri pikin. Ma tɛ i go a rai̯s, dąn a i ɑksi den pikin san a muso cha' kɔ̨' gi' dɛn tɛ a i kɔm na 'oso. Di a dɛ gowɛ wan dei̯ na rai̯s, a ɑksi na mɔro pikį' wą' są' a wan' na chari ɛ̨ŋ. A taki a wani wan ros. A ɑks' 'a tra wą są' a wani. A taki a wani wan dakfanfelia. 'A trawą taki ɛ̨ŋ wani wąn sɔnblum. Ma di ɛ̨ gowɛ, a fɛn' na dakfanfelia, a fɛni na sɔniblum, ma na rɔs a no mąŋ feni. Dąn a bɛn dɛ sari tumusi....

Bato! Mi bɛn dapɛ!
San taki?

Na mi Tanta fu neti,

Mi gō fu luku,

Grą'-mɩsi yagi' mi.

Wɔi, wɔi, grą'-mɩsi,

Wɔi, wɔi, yagi mi.

Waka nąŋga yu tɔri!

... di a no fen' da rɔs. A bɛn lɔbi na pikin dɑti mɔro furu. A waka so tɛ ... a kɔm miti wan dyari nąŋga wan broko skɔtu, nąŋga wan rɔs-bom, a 'abi wąn rɔs. A kɔm breti tumusi di a kɔm fen' 'a rɔs, ma fa-i-si a broko na rɔs, wantrǫ' wan stɛŋ taki, ‘Na suma di 'abi na rɔs, bufɔsi ai̯t' dei̯, a mu' kɔm dia, ɛn a sɑ si wan

[p. 376]

batra nąŋga watra. A sɑ drɔpu ala pis' tɩki di a sɑ si, ɛn a sɑ wei̯ki na prɩ̨ns. Dąn a sɑ trō nąŋga ɛ̨ŋ.’

Di na papa gō na 'oso, a bɛn tumusi sari fu di a bɛn broko na rɔs. A no bɛn dɛ nyą' serefi. Den pikin aksi ɛ̨ŋ taki, san du ɛ̨ŋ? A no wan' taki. Ma di a no mąŋ ɔri mɔro, dąn a kɔ̨n tai̯g' dɛn, sąn bɛn pasa.

Mi 'ɛ go gowɛ na liba-o!
Mi wą'wąn.
Mi na wan Ɩ̨ŋgi,
Mi n'e tąn nąŋga dę' Negro.
Mi go gowe na liba-o!

Ma di a taki dɛn, dąn 'a pikin taki, ɛ̨ŋ sɑ go. A no a fu sari. ‘Mi sɑ go.’ A tɛki ɛ̨ŋ asi nąŋga ɛ̨ŋ krosi, a go na presi pɛ na papa bɛn broko na rɔs. A tɛk' na batra, a du so lɛk' na stɛ̨ŋ bɛn tai̯gi. A dropu ala dɛn pisi tɩki, ala sani, ɛn a bɛn wei̯ki na prɩ̨ns. Wą kɔndre bɛn kɔmopo, ɛn a trō nąŋga na prɩ̨ns.

Ma, di den trō kaba, wan-tu wiki na baka, a ɑksi na prɩ̨ns fō a go luku ɛ̨ŋ papa, nąŋga ɛ̨ŋ mama, ɛ̨ŋ famiri. A tɛk' 'a span hasi fō gowɛ, ma bufosi a gowɛ na prɩ̨ns kari ɛ̨ŋ, a taki, ‘Tɛ i go, aluwasi dɛm dɛ go kiri yu, yu no mu tak' fa mi nɛm. Mi nɛm Süt' Wilyam, ma yu no mu taki fa mi nɛm. No so, mi dɛ go fɛrgit yu.’ 'A metjɛ gōwɛ. Di a dɔro ɛ̨ŋ papa nąŋga mama 'oso, dɛm meki bɩgi fei̯st. Dɛm prisiri fo si ɛ̨ŋ, ma di a tą' ɛri dei̯ kaba bakadina a i kɔm fu gowɛ na 'oso, dąn den tu sisa taki, ‘Wi dɛ gō pɔt' yu af-pasi.’ Na wan fō den teki wan aksi, ɛn na tra wan teki wan ōru. Dą' ɛ̨ŋ gō.

Fa na sisa go na ɩni ɛ̨ŋ shei̯si, den aksi ɛ̨ŋ, ‘Tai̯gi mi, fa yu masra nɛ̨'?’ A kɔri. A taki ferkert nɛm. Den taki, ‘Yu lei̯. A no so yu masra nɛm.’ Ma di a no wani fu taki fa na man nɛm, dą' den taki, ‘Ɛf' yu no tai̯g' wi, wi dɛ go kiri yu!’ Dąn a fredɛ, dąn a kari na nɛm, taki, ‘Masra nɛm Süt' Wilyam.’ Ɛ̨n wantrǫ' den asi kɔm gowɛ, a kɔm lasi na ɩni na busi.

Kɛskɛsi djɔmpo na tapu,
Go fredi wan gran-mɩsi.
Kɛskɛsi djɔmpo na tapu,
Go fredi wan gran-mɩsi.
Są mi sɑ gi' ɛ̨' fō drɩ̨ŋgi?
Pɩnda nąŋga karu watra,
Ha! ha!
Pɩnda nąŋga karu watra,
Ha! ha!

[p. 378]

Dąn a kɔm waka so tɛ ... na ɩni na busi, tɛ bei̯na a dɛ soso s'kin. Dąn a waka tɛ ... A kɔm mit' wan boiti, wan presi, dą' a kɔ̨ si wan 'oso na na strati. Dąn a go dapɛ, ma a no si na wan suma. Dąn a go, a tą' dapɛ tɛ neti, di na gran-mɩsi kɔm di bɛ̨' libi dapɛ. A bɛn dɛ wan tofer gran-mɩsi. A bɛn sabi ala sani kaba. Dąn di a kɔm, a taki, ‘Ɛf' wan suma kɔm dia, a no mu' kɩbri, a mu' kɔm mek' mi shi ɛ̨ŋ.’ Ma di a bɛn dɛ soso s'kin ɛ̨ŋ habi syɛm fō kɔm. Na gran-mɩsi pɔti nanyąm. A go, a nyąm. Tamara a du so mɛni wroko di na gran-mɩsi gowɛ. Dąn neti di na gran-mɩsi kɔm baka a taki, ‘Ɛfu wan suma kɔm dia a no mu' syɛ̨', a mu' kɔm meki mi shi ɛ̨ŋ.’ Dąn a kɔm na fesi, ɛn dą' na gran-mɩsi si ɛ̨ŋ. Dąn a kɔm fɛrteri ala sani di bɛn pasa ɛ̨ŋ nąŋga hɛm sisa. Na gran-mɩsi tai̯g' hɛm taki, ‘Luku, dia mi habi apresina, mi 'ɛ go puru gi yu. Dąn yu dɛ go 'a foto-sei̯, go yuru wan hoso leti na abra dapɛ prɩ̨ns bɛn libi. Dąn bakadina yu dɛ teki na apresina na ɩni wan baki, dan yu go sɛri na dɔro-mɔfo. Dąn prɩ̨ns dɛ go sɛni kɔm bai̯. Ma yu mu' taki, ɛfu den wani fu yu sɛri, dąn yu mu' go sribi na ɩni prɩ̨ns kamera.’

Dąn den taki, ‘A bǫ', meki a du so.’ Neti na umą di prɩ̨ns bɛn tro baka pɔti opiɔn na ɩni na te. Neti di a go, a taki na heli neti, ‘Swüt' Wilyam, Swüt' Wilyam, fa yu firgit mi so? Swüt' Wilyam, Swüt' Wilyam, fa yu firgit mi so?’ Ma prɩ̨ns bɛn sribi, a no yɛre. Mamąntɛ̨m a gowɛ. Bakadina a kɔm na dɔro-mɔfo baka. Den sɛni aksi fō bai̯ apresina baka, a taki na srɛf' fasi a gi ɛ̨ŋ. Ɛ̨ŋ mu' sribi na ɩni prɩ̨ns kamera. Den taki, ‘A bǫ'.’ Ma bakadina, fa-i-si na umą tyari te gi prɩ̨ns, dąn wan suma kɔn sɛri fisi, ɛn so na bedindɛ teki na te tyar' gi prɩ̨ns. So dɑti a no bɛn pɔti opiɔn na ɩni. Neti di na umą go na ɩni na kamera a taki agei̯n, ‘Swüt' Wilyam, Swüt' Wilyam, fa yu fɛrgit mi so?’ Dąn wantrǫ Swüt' Wilyam bɛn harki. A taki agei̯n, ‘Swüt' Wilyam, Swüt' Wilyam, fa yu fergit mi so?’ Wantrǫ Swüt' Wilyam bɛn wei̯ki. A bɛn si taki na ɛ̨ŋ uma di ɛ̨ŋ habi fɛrgiti wąn. A tai̯g' ɛ̨ŋ taki gi ɛ̨ŋ, ‘Mi no bɛn tai̯g' yu taki yu no mu' kar' mi nɛm, no so, mi dɛ go fɛrgit yu?’

Wantrǫ tamara mamęntɛ̨m a bɛn meki den tyari krosi kɔm gi na umą. Ɛn so a bɛn kɔm trō nąŋga ɛ̨ŋ baka. So den sisa bɛn wani fu kiri den sisa.

120. The Rose that Talked: Secret Name: Jealous Sisters.²

There was a father who had three children. But when he went on a journey, then he asked his children what he must bring them when he came home. One day as he was going away on a journey he asked the youngest what she wanted him to bring her. She said she wanted a rose. He asked the other what she wanted. She said she wanted a dakfanfelia.³ The other one said she wanted a sunflower. But when he went away he found the dakfanfelia, he found the sunflower, but the rose he could not find. Then he was very sorry...

Bato! I was there!
What was said?

I am Tanta of the night,

I go to look,

An old woman⁴ drives me away.

Woi, woi, an old woman,

Woi, woi, drives me away.⁵

Go on with your story!

... when he did not find the rose. (For) he loved that child most. He traveled until... he happened upon a yard and a broken fence, and a rose bush that had one rose. He was very happy when he found the rose, but no sooner did he pluck the rose, than a voice said, ‘The person who has the rose must come here before eight days are up,

2 Told by 1. Compare Bahamas, Parsons (III) 59-60, No. 27 II; Santo Domingo, Andrade 170-171, No. 123, 202-203, No. 150; comparative, Bolte u. Polívka, ii, 229-273, No. 88.

3 A rose-like purple flower.

4 A witch.

5 Song No. 148.

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and she will see a bottle of water. She will sprinkle all the sticks which she will see, and she will wake the prince. Then she will marry him.’

When the father went home, he was very sorry that he had broken off the rose. He did not even eat. The children asked him, they said, what was troubling him? He did not want to tell. But as he could not hold out any more, then he told them what had happened.

I am going away to the river-o!
I, alone.
I am an Indian,
I will not stay with the Negroes.
I am going away to the river-o!¹

But when he had told them, then the child said she would go. He must not be sad. ‘I will go.’ She took her horse and her clothes and she went to the place where her father had broken off the rose. She took the bottle and she did as the voice had said. She sprinkled all the sticks, (she did) everything, and she awakened the prince. A village sprang up, and she married the prince.

But one or two weeks after they were married, she asked the prince to go and see her father, and mother, and her family. She took a span of horses to go away, but before she went the prince called her, and said, ‘When you go, even if they are going to kill you, you must not tell what my name is. My name is Sweet William, but you must not tell what my name is, or I am going to forget you.’ The girl went away. When she reached her father's and mother's house they made a big feast. They were happy to see her. But when she had been there a full day, and in the afternoon she came to go home, then her two sisters said, ‘We will take you half way.’ One of them took an axe and the other took a cutlass. Then they went.

Just as the sister was going into her carriage, they asked her, ‘Tell us, what is your husband's name?’ She lied. She told a false name. They said, ‘You lie. That is not your husband's name.’ But when she did not want to tell what her husband's name was, then they said, ‘If you do not tell us, we are going to kill you!’ Then she was afraid. Then she called the name and she said, ‘My husband's name is Sweet William.’ And at once the horses ran away, she was lost in the bush.

The monkeys jump up,
They are afraid of an old woman.²
The monkeys jump up,
They are afraid of an old woman.
What shall I give them to drink?
Peanut and corn water,
Ha! Ha!
Peanut and corn water,
Ha! Ha!³

1 Song No. 195. This is an ɩ̨ŋgi (Indian) Kɔmfo song.

2 See footnote 4, p. 375

3 Song No. 137.

[p. 379]

Then she traveled so till... in the bush, till she was almost naked. Then she walked till... She came upon a small village, and she saw a house on the street. Then she went there but she saw no one. Then she went, and she remained there until night, when the old woman who lived there came. She was a witch. She knew everything already. Then, when she came, she said, ‘If a person came here she must not hide. She must come and let me see her.’ But since she was naked, she was ashamed to come. The old woman put down food. She went, and she ate it. The next day she did many tasks after the old woman went away. Then at night when the old woman came back, she said, ‘If someone came here she must not be ashamed, she must come and let me see her.’ Then she came forward, and the old woman saw her. Then she related everything that had happened between her and her sisters. The old woman said to her, she said, ‘Look, here I have oranges that I am going to pick for you. Then you are to go to the city, and rent a house right across from where the prince lives. Then in the afternoon you are to take the oranges on a tray, and you are to sell them in the doorway. Then the prince is going to send to buy them. But you must say, if they want you to sell [them], then you must go and sleep in the prince's room.’

Then they said, ‘All right, let her do this.’ At night the woman [whom] the prince had later married, put opium in his tea. At night when she [the girl] went, she kept saying all night, ‘Sweet William, Sweet William, how could you forget me so? Sweet William, Sweet William, how could you forget me so?’ But the prince slept, he did not hear. In the morning she went away. In the afternoon she came to the door again. They sent again to ask to buy oranges and she said the same thing again. She must sleep in the prince's room. They said, ‘All right.’ But in the afternoon, just as the woman¹ was bringing tea for the prince, then someone came to sell her fish, so the servant took the tea to the prince. So that she did not put in opium. At night when the woman went to the room, she said again, ‘Sweet William, Sweet William, how could you forget me so?’ Then at once Sweet William listened. She said again, ‘Sweet William, Sweet William, how could you forget me so?’ At once Sweet William awoke. He saw that it was his wife whom he had forgotten. He said to her, he said, ‘Didn't I tell you that you must not call my name or I would forget you?’

The first thing the next morning he had them bring clothes for the woman. And so he came to marry her again. So the sisters had wanted to kill their sister.

1 The later wife.