Creole drum

An Anthology of Creole Literature in Surinam

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Chapter 3
Folktales

Creoles have a great and long-standing tradition of storytelling dating back to the time of slavery. As in so many other countries, there are informal occasions when, on a moonlit night, the children of a compound crouch around an old woman to hear their bedtime stories. When a story is told during the day, the Creole storyteller is supposed to pluck an eyelash, which seems to suggest a more sacred origin (Penard 1917:242-43). In general, however, storytelling is not a children's affair. Most stories are told during wakes, especially on the eighth night after death but also at a later stage in mourning ceremonies. It is said that the yorka, the spirit of the deceased, should be entertained with stories before he leaves his relatives. Although other occasions with a more sacred character seem to exist, presumably as part of the ancestor cult, we have not had a chance to observe them, nor have they been described in the literature.

Storytelling with an adult audience is highly formalized. The narrator opens and closes his tale with certain fixed formulas in which the audience participates. The audience in fact participates actively, in a formalized way, during the entire session. One is entitled to interrupt the narrator by calling out something like Bato, mi ben dape (‘Bato, I was there’). The narrator pauses, turns to the interrupter, and asks something in the vein of San den taki? (‘What did they say?’) or San yu si? (‘What did you see?’). The interrupter may then start a song, during which he is joined by the rest of the audience. After the song is finished, he says something like Waka anga yu tori (‘Go on with your story’). Skilled interrupters can link the song to the tale by means of a few introductory lines. It is also possible to throw in a proverb that fits the tale.

In most cases the interruptions are not related to the story or are related in only a very superficial way. We once witnessed a very intricate pattern of interruptions during a mourning feast in a Djuka village. The first story was interrupted by a second, which was interrupted by a third, and so on. The deepest embedded story must be finished first, before the less deeply embedded can go on. The main function of the interruptions seems to be to distract the audience a bit and to show appreciation for the story. An extremely lively session may so please the narrator that he himself starts inter-

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spersing his tale with interruptions or praises it as very interesting. Skilled narrators may even use the interruptions to structure their story. If a story really warms up, a short interruption may be highly effective. It presents an outlet for the tension created and at the same time arouses curiosity about further developments. Consequently some famous storytellers may have as part of their retinue skilled interrupters who guide the audience in their interruptions. For a description of this type of session see Herskovits 1936:138-46.

Songs that are not used as interruptions but as part of the tale have quite a different function. In Mende folktales ‘songs of this third group occur at climactic points or at crises in the narrative; they are most often uttered by a character in a tale who is under severe stress, either physical or mental, though perhaps rather more frequently the latter ... at these points the stories are raised to a higher level of feeling than could perhaps be reached by means of ordinary speech’ (Innes 1965:60-61). Some narrators start with a song instead of an opening formula and then present the story as an explanation of the song, whether the explanation is plausible or not. It is not quite clear whether in Surinam this type of storytelling is an individual departure from Creole tradition or an established alternative method of storytelling.

Surinam Creoles make a clear distinction between two types of tales: Anansitori (‘spider stories’) and Ondrofenitori (‘experience stories’). A third type called Laytori contains only riddles and are often extremely short. They can hardly be considered folktales. Herskovits 1936 (p. 138) considered the Ondrofenitori a subclass of Anansitori, but we do not think this holds true. At present the distinction between the two types may roughly coincide with our distinction between more and less serious stories. Anansitori are considered to be pure entertainment, while Ondrofenitori must bear a message. The distinction between the two types is not absolute and may depend on the attitude of the narrator or even of the audience. The same story may be presented as pure entertainment or as moral instruction. But this uncertainty does not make the basic distinction less real. It seems to us more acceptable than the classification of Herskovits: ‘those that have animals as their dramatis personae, those with human characters, and those containing animals and humans, who appear to share the world they inhabit on equal terms’ (Herskovits 1936:139). This sort of classification seems rather foreign to the culture in which these tales function.

The Anansitori (tales presented as pure entertainment) are named after the trickster hero of many of these tales, the spider Anansi. Of a total of 148 stories published in Herskovits 1936, 93 are animal

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stories, of which 81 centered on the spider. An earlier collection published in Capelle 1916 and 1926 contained 39 stories, of which 29 were animal stories and 27 centered on the spider. The clear preference for stories about Anansi may be attributed to the collectors. Capelle and Herskovits were both very much interested in the African background of Surinam culture. The same applies to Lichtveld, who treated the mythical origin of the spider in Africa (Lichtveld 1930/31). It is quite clear that the spider and the hare as Caribbean tricksters have an African background. Their appeal, however, is much more universal. They are the cunning creatures who succeed in outwitting their superiors, and as such they appealed to the Creoles, who often constituted the lower ranks of society.

Ondrofenitori are certainly as important for Creole culture as the other stories. They may have diverse origins. Next to tales with a clear African origin, we have encountered Andersen's tales, changed but still quite recognizable, tales from Dutch folklore (Voorhoeve 1950), old Italian stories, and others. A special subgroup of Ondrofenitori is called Srafutentori (tales of slavery). For a long time they passed unnoticed. The first mention of them in the literature was in a description of a storytelling session by W. Campagne, cited in Donicie 1952/53. The first publication of such a story can be found in Drie 1959. Here we certainly do not have in mind nonformalized historical traditions but formalized folktales. The historical truth is uncertain, although names of plantations and plantation owners are frequently mentioned. The themes are clearly derived from oral literature, but the tales have their setting in the historical past, especially in the period of slavery. We even recorded a story that started in Africa, in Mende country.

In this chapter we have selected three very different specimens of Surinam folktales, leaving aside the better known spider stories. While not denying the African background, they illustrate, we think, how deeply rooted Creole culture is in America. The first is a Srafutentori showing how the slaves outwitted their masters with the help of magic and even succeeded in driving one of them away. This is not the only theme nor the most important. Of great import is the moral, that reward comes to him who cares for his parents. The story starts with a quest that came about as a result of a task set by one of the parents. The experience gained during the quest, with the help of a mythical creature, leads to the reward: a certain kind of magic or juju that gives power to endure the hardships of slavery. The entire structure is very symptomatic of general folklore themes but deeply embedded in the special conditions of slavery. Numerous digressions on the slave culture reveal that these tales are used to give historical instruction to the audience.

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The second story has been presented explicitly as an Anansitori by the narrator, although it is not even an animal story, let alone a spider story. This proves that tales with human characters may be regarded as Anansitori (pure entertainment). In this special case, the story was told to two Europeans without an audience. For this reason the narrator may have decided to present his story as fiction or entertainment. With a different audience he might have made a different decision. The story, which is not very well told, is included because it is the only one of its kind in our collection.

The third story is an animal story that does not focus on the spider. The curious thing about this story is that it describes the details of a banya performance (for banya see chapter 1). A banya performance is divided into three stages. Before midnight, the big drum is lightly played with the thumb and forefinger. This manner of playing is called sabaku, after a kind of heron. After midnight, until daybreak, the drum is played with four fingers together. Then it is associated with owrukuku (‘owl’). After about four o'clock in the morning the palm of the hand is also employed. This manner of drumming is called kakafowru (‘rooster’). The story is about these three birds, who visit a banya performance.

The stories were recorded by H.C. van Renselaar and J. Voorhoeve between 1957 and 1961. Stories 1 and 3 were told by Alex de Drie, who in our estimation has no peer in Paramaribo as a narrator. We recorded a second version of the first story, which differs in some respects. This version seemed on the whole better organized and was recorded under better conditions (with an audience). An asterisk in the text indicates an interruption by someone in the audience. For this reason, the last part of the story is repeated after the interruption. The second story was related by Jacob Babel, an old man living in the immediate surroundings of Paramaribo. He is a descendant of a small group of runaways, the so-called Broos negroes, and told us many stories about the history of his group. Possibly there are special traditions in this group. In one of his stories the hare takes the place of the spider as trickster, which is exceptional in Surinam. According to Lichtveld (1930/31:314) the trickster is a hare in North and Middle America but a spider in the southern Antilles and the mainland of South America.

Stories are often regarded as the spiritual possession of a specific narrator and as such will not easily be narrated by someone else. For this reason we insist on linking the tale with the name of its narrator.

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Basya Adyuku koni

 

Mi kownu mi yere

 

yu abi wan tutu-oi.

 

Ma na ini yu kondre

 

nowan man man fu bro a tutu-oi.

 

Mi kownu, ma ne mi kon begi yu taki:

 

- Mi kownu, pruberi efu mi sa bro a tutu.

 

Ne mi kownu taki:

 

- Ay yu boy Anansi,

 

yu kan teki a tutu,

 

dan yu pruberi efu yu bro a tutu.

 

Ne mi teki a tutu,

 

mi poti a tutu,

 

mi bro a tutu, ba: -

 

Pan pan pan pan!

 

Ma bifosi mi doro a pranasi

 

na opo Kotka

 

di den e kari Morgudan,

 

ne mi nyan ala a tutu, ba:

 

- Fan fan fan fan!

 

Teri en go, ma mama un go teri en kon.

 

- Teri en go, ma mama un go teri en kon.

We yu si, a singi di mi singi de, hn!, na wan srafuten tori. Yu ben abi wan pranasi na opo Kotka, den e kari Suksesi. Dan yu ben abi wan pranasi na ini Motkriki, den e kari Dagrâti. Ma na Suksesi yu ben abi wan man dape, den ben e kari en basya Adyuku. Ma now, te yu kon owru na ini a pranasi te, dan granmasra no wani si yu moro. Bika a taki yu e tan nyan nyanyan fu soso. Bika yu no man wroko moro, dan yu no mu tan na ini a pranasi ini moro. Dan den pikin fu yu, dan den mu go koti wan pikin busi, dan den meki maka-oso, dan den poti yu. Ma pranasi nyanyan yu no kan nyan moro. Bika san dan? Den srafu ben e kisi nyanyan ala wiki. Efu a pikin abi wan yari, tokoe a e bigin kisi lansun. Pondo e kon a foto, a kon teki batyaw. O-nyanyan den

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ben e gi den. A bâna nanga batyaw. Nanga a weti maka, dati den abi fu weri go na kerki, nanga a braka maka. Den uma e kisi tu braka maka pangi. A fu heri yari.

Ma now yu ben abi wan mama den ben e kari mama Amba. Dan en man ben nen Kwami. Dan a ben abi wan manpikin, den ben e kari Akampe. Dati na en fosi manpikin. Tu manpikin a ben abi. Dan a wan a ben gi en nen Adyuku.

Ma te Akampe komopo a baka gron - dati a ben e wroko -, ma efu a kon na oso - a mama no man wroko moro, a papa no man wroko moro - kaba mama Amba kari en, a e piki: - San yu e kari mi? Yu grani kaba, yu no kan dede? Anga moeilijkheid a mi tapu!

Te Adyuku kon, a kari en, a taki: - Adyuku?

A taki: - Ya mi mama?

- Kon dya mi boy.

Adyuku e go. A taki: - Mi mama, yu nyan kaba dan?

A taki: - N'n!

- Mi mama, san yu wani nyan?

A taki: - We a no wan pikin tonton yu mu bori gi mi?

Adyuku e go a gotro, a kisi srika, a srepi fisi, a kon, a fon en mama anga en papa tonton gi den. Sonten a e puru sika gi den. Satra bakadina, te a komopo a wroko, dan a kon puru sika, krin den futu gi den. Sonde mamanten a e teki a makapangi fu a mama, a gowe go wasi. A e teki a pikin krio fu a papa, a go a liba, a wasi, a drey. Ma a papa ben abi wan koni. Dan a luku duun.

We yu si a tori di mi e gi yu de, dan a tata luku Adyuku, dan a kari mama Amba, a taki: - Amba, kon.

Amba lelele, kari mama Amba kon.
Amba lelele, srafûma, kari mama Amba kon.
Amba lelele, srafûma, kari mama Amba kon.

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We na mama Amba a e kari so. A taki: - Amba lelele, kari na mama gi mi. Amba lelele, srafûma, kari na uma gi mi.

Hn! Bika mama Amba, Adyuku na en pikin. Ma a yuru di a papa si fa Adyuku e libi anga en, dan a e kari mama Amba, fu den taki makandra fu den gi Adyuku a koni. Ne mama Amba e gowe, teki pasi e go anga en tiki. Ne a papa bari gi en taki: - Mama Amba lelele, kari na uma gi mi. Mama Amba lelele, srafûma, kari na uma kon.

Dan mama Amba dray kon. Nomo a taki: - Mi uma, we luku, u abi tu boy dya. Tata Gado leni un tu boy. Ma a wan bigiwan, yu no si, a e si un leki noti. Ma Adyuku, te a kon, a e puru sika gi unu, a e kisi watra gi un fu wasi un skin. A e go a gotro, a e go srepi fisi kon, a e kisi srika, a e kisi krabu, a e bori brafu gi unu. We luku, mi abi wan koni dya di mi tata ben leri mi. Ma mi no pruberi fu mi srefi. Ma meki un pruberi en gi Adyuku.

A mama no piki. Twarfu dey langa a papa e begi en. Mama, den abi swaki ati so. Ma na mama dati ben abi a tranga ati, a papa ben abi a swaki ati. Di fu tinadri dey, nomo a papa kari Adyuku a wan sey, a taki: - Adyuku!

Adyuku taki: - Ya mi papa.

A taki: - Kon dya boy. Efu un gi yu wan wroko, yu sa du en? Adyuku taki: - San mi papa wani. Bika mi papa wroko te yu kon grani. Now granmasra taki: nowan enkri suma no mu tan na ini pranasi. Hala den trawan mesandel den bigisma, den houders fu den, te den dede. Ma tog mi tyari yu kon dya a mindri busi. Mi meki wan oso fu yu anga mi mama. Mi e tyari nyanyan kon gi unu. Dùs te yu si un tapu bro, mi poti un na ondro doti, dan mi sa kaba anga unu.

A papa taki: - So mi boy. A taki: - We yu sabi san mi o seni yu? Yu mu go na busi. Dan yu mu suku a mira di den e kari wrokoman. Dan yu puru na ati tya kon gi mi.

Adyuku teki prakseri. Nomo a mama sidon a wan sey. Di Adyuku e prakseri de, ne a mama bari, a taki: -

Yu sabi na odo di mi e bari de-i?
Hay, mi pikin wani sabi na odo
di mi e koti de.
Go na mindri busi,

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go teki na ati fu na mira den e kari wrokoman.

 

Dan yu sa sabi na odo di mi e bari de.

Adyuku teki prakseri te. Adyuku go, a sribi. Tamara mamanten a go a busi. A waka, a waka, a waka, a waka, a waka, a waka, a waka, te a doro twarfu yuru. A no man miti noti. A go na ondro wan bon. A dokun di a ben tyari, a koti wan pisi, a nyan.

Ma a yuru di a nyan a dokun, nomo a si wan krabdagu kon na en fesi. A ten dati den meti ben e taki. Nomo a krabdagu taki anga en. A taki: - We mi yonkuman, fa yu tan?

Adyuku taki: - Mi krabdagu, fa yu tan?

A krabdagu taki: - Angri e kiri mi ba. A di mi si yu e nyan, ne mi kon.

Adyuku taki: - We san mi e nyan, mi no sabi efu yu sa nyan en. Na kasaba dokun mi tyari. Efu yu sa nyan en, dan mi sa gi yu.

A krabdagu taki: - We, di yu nyan en, a no kiri yu, a no kan kiri mi.

A opo en katasú, a teki a afu dokun, gi a krabdagu. A krabdagu nyan. A krabdagu sidon na en sey, a bigin prey anga a krabdagu. A yuru di a prey te wan pisi anga a krabdagu - un ben de tranga dreyten nanga tranga son -, dan fa a feni a kowrupe, dan a winti kon bigin way, dan a sribi bigin kiri en, dan a dyonko. Ma a yuru di a dyonko, a fadon a wan pikin sribi. A krabdagu sidon na en sey. Te a sribi te wan pisi ten, a krabdagu si a no e wiki, a krabdagu krabu en anga en finga, a wiki. Ne a krabdagu tagi en taki: - We mi yonkuman, yu fadon a wan pikin sribi, ma mi tan dya, mi waki te yu sribi, fu noti no du yu.

A taki: - Ay mi krabdagu, mi e taki yu tangi.

A krabdagu aksi en taki: - Ma pe yu e go dan?

A taki: - We luku dya, na ini mi pranasi ini, pe mi de, sodra yu si yu wroko gi granmasra te yu kon grani, dan yu no e kisi lansun moro. We so hala den trawan, den bigisma fu den, di den no e kisi lansun moro, den ferferi anga den, den mesandel den te hala dede. Ma mi dati, mi kon meki wan oso na busi. San mi man prani, mi prani.

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Dan mi tyari mi mama - a no man wroko moro, a nen mama Amba - go poti a busi nanga mi papa. A lansun di mi e kisi, a dati mi anga den e prati, nanga san mi e wroko nengregron.

A krabdagu taki: - O! A taki: - Ma pe yu e go dan?

A taki: - We a no mi papa seni mi taki, meki mi kon a mindri busi, meki mi go suku na ati fu a mira den e kari wrokoman gi en. We yu si, a dati mi e go suku.

A krabdagu taki: - O! We mi yonkuman, efu mi ben sabi en, mi ben sa sori yu. Ma di yu e go de, waka, masra Gado sa de anga yu.

Adyuku teki pasi, a waka, a waka, a waka, a waka, te a kon doro wan pikin kriki. Ma a yuru a doro a kriki, a koti wan tiki, a wani go abra a kriki, a firfiri a tiki, ma a si wan bun bigi pisi...

*

Adyuku koti wan tiki, a firi. Ma pe a e firi so, nomo a si wan bigi pisi udu didon so. Ma na udu ben didon leki fa a kriki didon so. Ma na udu dray en srefi. Ma ala dati, san na a udu? Na wan bigi kayman. Te yu wan go abra a kriki dati, dan na a kayman baka yu mu waka.

Nèt Adyuku wani poti en futu fu go abra na udu, a krabdagu dape de. A krabdagu kon, a taki: - Mi yonkuman, mi miti yu baka. A fu yu ede meki mi kon dya.

Adyuku taki: - So?

Krabdagu taki: - We, yu no feni na ati fu a mira den e kari wrokoman ete?

A taki: - Nono! We, mi doro a kriki, dan now mi wani go abra.

Krabdagu taki: - We, yu no mu go abra, bika yu si, na bigi udu di yu si yu wani abra dape de, nowan libisma e kan abra dya. Na wan bigi kayman. Èn ala den tra pispisi udu di seti de, sodra yu si yu sa poti yu futu, na soso kayman. Fa yu si yu e miti a watra, so den o nyan yu. Dùsu dray baka, meki mi tyari yu go.

Adyuku waka. A krabdagu teki fesi. A yuru di a waka, a waka te wan pisi, nomo a go, a miti wan bigi bon, a gersi na sibi sibi a bon ondro. Ma fosi a doro, dan a krabdagu tagi en taki: - We luku, yu si yu e go miti wan bigi bon dape de. Ma te yu go na ondro a bon - a bon sibi leki suma e go sibi en - ma te yu go dape na ondro a bon, no tan nowan henkri yuru. Bika te yu go na ondro

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a bon, a o gi yu fu yu sidon, a o gi yu fu yu kanti didon srefi. Ma no prefuru, waka so tranga leki yu kan.

A yuru di Adyuku waka te a go doro na ondro a bon so, wan switi winti way na ondro a bon sote - hn! Adyuku wani tanapu. A prakseri san a krabdagu ben tagi en. A waka tu futu, a tanapu. A prakseri san a krabdagu ben tagi en. A winti e komopo ala sey fu en. A yuru di a pasa a skadu te, nomo a yere wan sten na en baka: - Hn! Disi a fosiwan! Na a sten piki so. We dati, a sten di piki dape de, dati na pe hala den busimama fu a busi e libi. Ma libilibi sma no e kon pasa dape de.

A yuru di Adyuku pasa dape, a kon miti wan kanti udu, a mu go abra na udu dati. A krabdagu ben dape wantron. A krabdagu tagi en, a taki: - No abra na udu, mi yonkuman, bika na udu di yu e si de...

*

We, a yuru di a krabdagu doro na en, a taki: - We i si, na udu di yu wani abra de, na a Grandagwe, na a gran heygron aboma di den kon pina dyaso, di granmasra ben meki sweri anga en fu a pranasi taki: hala yari a sa gi en dri nengre fu a nyan. Bika hala yari granmasra ben mara sukru moro leki den tra pranasi di de. Ma di en ati ben e kaba den nengre, ne yu si - yu ben abi den bigi suma dati fu pranasi - ne den kon tyari en kon pina dya. Dan toku ete granmasra, di den suma dati kon grani, toku a yagi den puru na ini pranasi, taki den pikin mu tyari den gowe. Dosu mi yonkuman, no go habra en srefsrefi. Dosu fa yu e si a tan seybi yari langa di a no nyan, nyan a e nyan yu de. Ma dray baka go na oso. Te yu go, dan yu tagi yu bigisuma, taki yu feni na mira di den e kari wrokoman, na ati fu en.

Adyuku dray. A ten di Adyuku teki fu waka go, a no a ten dati a teki. A waka kon ben waka langzaam, ma a waka go hesi. Bika a feni a mira di den e kari wrokoman, te a puru na ati fu en. A yuru di a go, en papa kari en taki: - Adyuku mi boi, yu doro?

A taki: - Ya mi papa, mi doro.

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A taki: - Pe na mira di yu tya kon de, pe na ati fu en de?

A taki: - Mi papa, mi tya en kon.

A taki: - Pe a de? Kisi en gi mi.

A taki: - Mi papa, wakti. Mi o kisi en gi yu. Di mi e go, so mi si, so mi si. Mi waka, so mi si, so mi si. Mi waka, so mi si, so mi si. A laste presi mi go miti wan bigi pori udu. A bigi te, yu no sa abra en srefi, a kren yu ben o kren abra en. Ne wan krabdagu kon tagi mi taki: na a Grandagwe di granmasra ben meki sweri nanga en fu en pranasi, taki hala yari a sa gi en dri nengre fu a nyan, fu a mara moro sukru leki den tra pranasi di de krosbey. Granmasra ben meki sweri anga en fu dri nengre, ma son yari a ben nyan twenti te a ben nyan twenti na feyfi, te a ben kaba ala nengre fu Suksesi. Ne yu si, den bigisuma kon pina en poti dyaso seybi yari kaba. We, efu mi kren na en tapu, a e go nyan mi, bika angri e kiri en.

A papa taki: - Hay mi pikin, dan yu waka! We, yu sabi san na a krabdagu di yu si?

A taki: - Nono.

A taki: - We, a krabdagu dati na a mama fu a pranasi, a gronwinti fu en. A gronwinti fu en na Luangu. Na hen tyari yu.

A taki: - We mi pikin, fa yu tagi mi de, dan yu waka ay. Ma luku, mi o gi yu wan koni. Ma yu sa ori yu brede. Yu brada yu no mu tagi.

A taki: - Kwetkweti mi papa.

A taki: - We luku, mi abi wan bigi drifutu patu. Dan te musudey mamanten, dan mi o tjari yu gowe go wasi. Ma te mi wasi yu tin dey langa, dan yu sa si sortu bun mi du yu. Ma di fu erfu dey, te yu go a firi, te basya gi yu wan marki, yu no mu wroko en. Yu mu koyri fu yu.

So. A papa teki Adyuku, a tyari en go pe a obiagodo ben de, wasi Adyuku. Ma a tra brada a no wasi. A wasi en tin dey langa. Di fu erfu dey den go a firi. Basya marki wroko gi Adyuku. Adyuku teki en pipa, a e smoko fu en. Basya lontlontu ala sma wroko, a si en wroko, a taki: - Adyuku!

A taki: - Ya basya?

A taki: - Yu no e wroko?

A taki: - Nono basya, mi no e wroko.

A so Adyuku prey a sani a heri wiki, munde te doro satra. Satra

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bakadina basya kon na Adyuku, a taki: - Adyuku!

A taki: - Ya basya?

A taki: - We tamara mamanten.... Yu no wroko a heri wiki, yu no kan kisi lansun.

Adyuku taki: - Mi no abi bisi.

A taki: - We ma u o fon yu. Granmasra gi mi order fu fon yu.

Adyuku aksi, a taki: - Basya, omeni tetey yu o naki mi?

Basya taki: - We, u o naki yu wan ondro tetey.

We, wan ondro tetey di yu e yere de, na tu ondro tetey. A dati ede tamalen di nengresuma, blaka suma, Afrikan lutu, e teki meki stroop e dringi, efu den abi frustan, den no sa dringi en. Bika den suma di ben abi pranasi, den tya tamalen komopo te a tra kondre kon prani dya. Nanga dati den ben e fon katibo, fon srafu, den ben e losi en. We, efu yu sabi dati, dan tamalen mu de yu trefu.

Ya. We, a ten dati, te den tagi yu taki den o naki yu wan tetey, dan a tu tetey. Bika tu basya e de. Dan den e losi den tamalenwipi, dan den e brey en, dan den e broko batra, dan den tai den. Efu basya naki yu wan so a yu pipa, kaba brudu komopo, dan granmasra e lafu: - Basya, yu abi moi anu!

Dùsu tu basya, te den tu naki yu tu tetey, dan a e teri fu wan. Dan basya tagi Adyuku, a taki: - We Adyuku, u e go naki yu wan ondro tetey. (Dati wani taki a kon tu ondro). Bika fosi ten yu ben e wroko, ma now yu kon lesi, yu kon vrijpostuku. Mi tya go taigi granmasra. Dùsu yu e go kisi seybi-uku pansboko.

Adyuku taki: - Mi no abi trobi. Tu ondro tetey ... We basya, a prey yu o prey anga mi. Efi yu ben gi mi wan seybi ondro ete, dan a kan de a ben sa betbeti mi skin. Ma tu ondro ... Na soso yu e kon trobi mi skin basya.

Basya luku Adyuku so duun. A hari rapport, a tya en go gi granmasra. Granmasra taki: - Hn! Takel na kel, a vrijpostek.

[p. 96]

Na soso a e go dede, want a sa man teki seybi ondro tetey?

Sonde kon. Fosi den go kari Adyuku, Adyuku fosi doro kaba. Adyuku taki: - Hodi mi granmasra! Nanga en pipa na en mofo. Granmasra no e piki.

- Daki mi granmasra!

Daki mi sisi!

Daki mi bigi misi!

Den e luku Adyuku so duun.

Dan basya kon. Adyuku tanapu. Adyuku kren go. A yuru di Adyuku go, a taki: - Mi basya, mi e haksi yu ete wan tron, taki omen tetey yu o gi mi.

Basya taki: - Tu ondro.

A taki: - Basya, prey yu o prey anga mi. Mi denki a wan seybi ondro yu ben o gi mi. Dati a fu mi krasi mi skin srefsrefi.

Dan granmasra tanapu anga en bigi pipa na barkon. A yuru di basya naki a wan tetey so ‘taw!’ a tra tetey fadon ‘tyaw!’, sisi bari: - Mi gado, mi baka! Bika a tetey di fadon na Adyuku skin, dan sisi firi en. A yuru di sisi dray so, luku so, a bigi yaki di a weri sidon a tapu a dyarususturu, a priti opo. Ala en baka priti opo.

Adyuku bari gi basya, a taki: - Basya, kanti tetey gi mi. Dati mi abi fanowdu. Saka tetey gi mi! Basya kanti baka. Sisi flaw. Granmasra lon, a taki: - No naki moro! No naki moro! Sisi e dede!

Adyuku dray, a taki: - Basya, saka tetey gi mi! Tetey mi mu abi!

Dan basya ook no e ferstan a sani. Den bigin naki Adyuku bruyabruya tetey. Ala tetey di e fadon, granmasra bari te a lolo na a balkon. Ala pipa komopo na en mofo. Ala en mindri baka priti. Granmasra flaw, sisi flaw, pranasi trubu. Dan basya no sá san fu du. Den libi Adyuku.

Adyuku e kari den taki: - U kon fon mi no?

Basya srefi trowe ala tetey. Adyuku gowe fu en na oso. A yuru di a go, en papa aksi en taki: - Mi boy, fa a pasa?

A taki: - We mi papa, noyti mi si so.

A saka, a brasa en papa, a go a gotro, a go kisi fisi, a kon bori

[p. 98]

tonton gi en papa. Adyuku, a so a e waka na ini a pranasi.

Ma now, yu ben abi wan man na ini Motkriki di abi wan pranasi den e kari Dagrâti. Den ben e kari en masra Müringen. Dan a yuru di granmasra kon betre, dan granmasra komopo anga en boto. Den tentiboto dati, a fositen den ben e kari den tenboto. Dan den e poti den srafu e lo. Na a tenboto u waka now:

A Sinamari di e beni,
Sinamari di e prodo,
Sinamari-o.
- A-e!
A Sinamari di e beni,
Sinamari di e prodo,
Sinamari-o.
- A-e!
- Mi weri-o, mi weri-o.
- Timan, timan, pa ... ruu!

A boto e lon go a Motkriki. Nanga dyentiwatra den e waka. A yuru di a masra fu Suksesi doro a Motkriki, a masra Müringen, a go, den sidon, den taki tori. A tagi en taki: - Luku, mi abi wan vent dape na ini mi pranasi, geen land te bezeilen anga a vent. A vent no wani wroko. Efi yu go fu fon a vent, ala den tetey, na mi skin a e fadon, na sisi skin a e fadon. Voor wan dri maanden geleden den fon a vent. Ala mi mindri baka priti, dati bijna mi dede srefi. Mi no sabi fa fu du anga a vent. Man, yu no kan gi mi wan raad, fa mi sa ruim a vent op?

Müringen taki: - A wan lawlaw sani. Wel kijk, mi e go sori yu wan sani. Sonde mi e kon a yu. Mi e teki ala den tra mati fu mi. Dan u e poti den kel, meki den go puru kokronto. Dan u e sutu den trowe.

A masra e kisi wan troostwoord. A dray en boto gowe baka. Den lon go na oso.

A Sinamari di e beni,
Sinamari di e prodo,
Sinamari-o.
- A-e!
A sinamari di e beni,

[p. 100]

 

 

 

 

Sinamari di e prodo,

 

Sinamari-o.

 

- A-e!

 

- Mi weri-o, mi weri-o.

 

- Timan, timan, pa ... ruu!

A yuru di a doro oso, den botoman tay boto, a dyompo go na inisey. Sisi aksi en taki: - Granmasra fa a pasa?

A taki: - Wel, mi go na mi mati Müringen na Dageraad na ini Motkriki. Dan dati gi mi wan troostwoord. U e go opruim a vent dalig!

Ma a yuru di a taki so, dan sensi di a teki en boto e go, dan Adyuku sabi. Adyuku go na en papa. En papa taki: - We mi boy, yu sabi san o pasa? Granmasra e go na ini Motkriki, a masra Müringen. Ma arki. A o kari yu te sonde mamanten fu go puru kokronto. Dan den o sutu yu. Ma a no yu wanwan. Den o kari negyi fu unu. Dan den o sidon nanga den gon na bakra oso. A taki: - Go kari sowan yonkuman kon, kari sowan yonkuman kon. Bika na neygi fu unu den de, di den o kari. Dan den o seni un go puru kokronto. Ma yu na a fosiwan den o sutu.

So Adyuku go kari hala den trawan. A papa tyari den go, a wasi den te a doro. Di a kaba wasi den, - satraneti na a laste wasi di a wasi den - deybroko fu sonde musudey mamanten feyfi yuru, wan sani leki arfu siksi so kon a siksi yuru tapu, granbasya doro na Adyuku oso.

- Adyuku.

- Ya basya?

- Granmasra e kari yu.

A go na den trawan oso. Adyuku, a waka go a fesisey. A so a karikari den, te den doro neygi. A yuru di den kon a fesisey, den seni Adyuku: - Yu e go na a bon disi, yu mu go puru kokronto. Yu e go na a disi, yu mu go puru kokronto. Bika den kokrontobon ben prani anga langa rij.

A yuru di den bigin kren go a tapu a kokrontobon - un mu reken taki granmasra abi wraak a tapu Adyuku - a lay ala en tu dobluloop gon, a naki ‘kraw!’ Hn! A yuru di a skot komopo, presi fu Adyuku fadon a tapu a bon, Adyuku dray, a luku

[p. 102]

granmasra, a taki: - Granmasra, teki den kugru fu yu dya baka.

Granmasra skreki te a gon komopo na en anu fadon. A Müringen di ben dya, a lay wasi gi a trawan. En gon puru watra. A so den sutu sote. Trawan gon e broko, trawan skot no e piki. Masra Müringen kon beyfi. A heri sopi di den ben poti fu dringi, den no man dringi en. A saka ini en tenboto, a gowe fu en a Motkriki. Dan den yonkuman anga Adyuku, den go a den oso.

A yuru di masra Müringen go na en pranasi, na Dagrâti pranasi, dan Adyuku meki wan pikin faya na wan ipi so, a e poti wanwan pisi udu gi en. We a wanwan pisi udu di a e poti gi en, masra Müringen no man sribi. Fa yu si a faya e bron, na so en heri skin e bron. Ne a kon, a kon tagi a masra fu Suksesi taki: - Yu sabi san? Yu poti mi na ini wan sani ini. Yu tyari mi kon dya nanga den nengre fu Suksesi dya, dati heri neti mi no man sribi. Mi musu e waka lontu. Mi skin e faja, dati mi skin e bron, ala mi buba. Mi no dede ete, mi skin e bron. Ma mi sa libi a pranasi disi, mi sa gowe. Yu Woiski, yu kon poti mi, tyari mi kon na ini a verdoem dya, meki den nengre di yu abi dyaso, mi no dede ete, den e bronbron mi skin.

Ne masra Müringen komopo ini Motkriki. A libi Dagrâti pranasi, a e kon a Parasey. Ne den nengre fu Suksesi, di a ben de mofoyari, a yuru di den prey den susa, ne den e bari:

Yu e yere wan bari a Parasey
- dyendyen.
- Yu e yere wan bari a Parasey
- dyendyen.
Masra Müringen go na Para
- dyendyen.
- Yu e yere wan bari a Parasey
- dyendyen.

We ne masra Müringen, a no man tan a Motkriki. Ne yu si, a feroysi kon bay pranasi a Paraliba. Na Suksesinengre lon masra Müringen komopo na opo Kotka. Bika a ben go fu go yepi en mati, masra Woiski, di ben abi Suksesi.

We kondreman, dan un musu hori den tori disi na ede. Mi srefi no ben de a srafuten, ma san den bigisma fu mi kon tagi mi, a so den ben e du anga nengre a fositen. So a tori kon kaba.

[p. 104]

Baya Afrenkuma

 

Moy baya Afrenkuma-oi,

 

kon teki nyanyan-o, mi baya-o.

 

Moy baya Afrenkuma-o,

 

kon teki nyanyan-o, mi baya.

 

Mi delima, mi delima,

 

mi sisa, a no yu mi wani.

Na Anansitori. We na Afrenkuma na wan yonkuman. We, wan mama ben abi dri umapikin, nanga Afrenkuma, wan manpikin. Dùsu meki u taki, dati Afrenkuma ben de bigiwan fu den sisa, den dri sisa.

We ma now di Afrenkuma tan te, dan a ben abi ay na en pikin sisa tapu. Dati wani taki a laste pikin fu a mama. En nanga a pikin na wan mama, wan papa. Ma now a ben abi ay na en tapu. Dan Afrenkuma tan te, a no sá san a mu du. Dan a mandi libi oso, a no e kon na oso kwetkweti. Dan a ben abi wan pikin boto, dan a e sidon na ini a pikin boto, du leki a e drifi uku a liba.

Ma now dan a mama wakti en, a papa wakti en. A taki: - Tan! Ma a boi Afrenkuma. San? A no e kon na oso. Seni den sisa fu en gowe go kari en.

- Kwetkweti, a no kan kon. A taki, en no e kon na oso moro.

- Mi Gado. Luku wán manpikin mi abi. Dan san du en?

A mama taki: - Ma luku, angri sa e kiri en. A bun. A taki, en no e kon. Ma te mi bori, mi sa seni en nyanyan gi en.

Dan te a mama bori, dan a puru nyanyan, meki u taki: gi a bigi sisa. Dan a taki: - De, go gi yu baya Afrenkuma! Kari en. A no e kon a sey. Ma te yu kari en, a si taki a nyanyan, a sa kon teki en.

Dan a sisa teki a nyanyan, dan a go leti a sey liba so. Dan Afrenkuma de na mindri, a e pari en pikin boto, We na pikin wenke e go singi, Afrenkuma sisa, dan na en e go singi gi en.

Baya Afrenkuma-oi,
kon teki yu nyanyan-e, mi baya-o.
Moi baya Afrenkuma-e,
kon teki yu nyanyan-e, mi baya-e.

[p. 106]

A yonkuman dray, a luku en. Dan Afrenkuma e go piki en baka: -

Mi delima, mi delima,
mi sisa a no yu mi wani.
Mi delima, mi delima,
mi sisa a no yu mi wani.

A wenke dray nanga en nyanyan go baka. Di a go, mama taki: - Tan! Fa? Yu kon nanga a nyanyan baka?

A taki: - Mi mama, mi brada Afrenkuma taki, a no mi en wani.

A mama taki: - We a bun, tamara mi sa seni yu tra sisa.

Tamara a seni a tweyde go.

Moi baya Afrenkuma-e,
kon teki yu nyanyan-e, mi man de.
Moi baya Afrenkuma-o,
kon teki yu nyanyan-o, man de.

Mi delima, mi delima,
mi sisa a no yu mi wani.
Delima-o, delima-o,
sisa a no yu mi wani.

A dati dray baka, a go. A bun. A tra dey a mama bori a nyanyan baka, dan a tapu en gi na lastewan. A taki: - Tyari gi.

A yuru ten a doro, a bari en baka: -

Moi baya Afrenkuma-o,
kon teki yu nyanyan-e, man de.
Mi moy baya Afrenkuma,
kon teki yu nyanyan-o, mi baya-e.

A yuru ten a dray, a si a pikin sisa, a bari: -

Mi delima, mi delima,
mi sisa na yu mi wani.
Mi delima, mi delima,
mi sisa, na yu mi wani.

A yuru ten a sutu a boto, a teki a nyanyan poti a boto, a teki a pikin sisa kon na en boto ... srr!

Mama de na oso, a e luku pikin fu kon. Pikin no sa kon. A taki: - Ma tan! Pe a boy e tan so?

[p. 108]

Ne a komopo, ne a go a watrasey. A kari en pikin uma. Afrenkuma taki: - O mama, mi no kan tyari en kon moro.

- Afrenkuma, fa?

A taki: - We mama, disi a mi frow!

- Yu pikin sisa, na en na yu frow?

A taki: - Ya!

En mama broko wan apra. Umasuma no ben abi borsu. Dan nèleki mi anga yu de, so a ben de. Ne a broko na apra. A frrr! Pap! A kisi bobi. A taki: - Yu Afrenkuma, tapu yu sa frey. Yu sa e saka a gron, ma yu sa e frey a tapu.

We Afrenkuma, san na en? A nen di den e kari Afrenkuma? Na doyfi. Doyfi di den e kweki na oso. Na en na Afrenkuma ... Dùsu dati wani taki: a kon leki a yonkuman tron doyfi. Dati wani taki: en nanga en sisa tron wan pari doyfi, uma nanga man.

Makukukuku,
ten de,
- No meki den uma kori yu.
- Ten de,
- no meki den uma kori yu.

We yu si, a singi disi di singi de taki ‘Makukukuku, ten de, no meki den uma kori yu,’ a tori disi nen taki ‘Mati e nyan anga mati, ma mati e kiri mati.’

We, na mati Owrukuku nanga Kakafowru ben de bigi mati. Ala presi den tu e waka. Ma wan dey mati Kakafowru komopo, a go a mati Owrukuku, a taki: - Mati Owrukuku, luku, ala presi mi anga yu nomo e waka. Ma nomo den kari mi a wan prisiri na oposey. Dosu, ne mi kon kari yu fu yu kon anga mi.

A taki: - Tru mi mati? We, san na a prisiri dan?

A taki: - We, wan bigi banya e go prey dape de. We, mi Kakafowru, di mi sabi dansi so, a dati ede den kon kari mi. We, yu a mi mati. Den taki mi kan tyari suma mi wani. We, mi no a tra suma e tyari, yu nomo. Ne mi kon kari yu fu go anga mi.

Mati Owrukuku taki: - We mati, a no wan sani? Dan yu wakti, meki mi weri mi krosi. Dan un sa teki waka.

So Owrukuku dyompo, a weri en krosi. Den tu teki waka. Den waka, den waka, den waka. A yuru den waka leti mindri

[p. 110]

fu a pasi, suma den si e kon? Mati Sabaku. Mati Sabaku taki:

- Mati Kakafowru, fa yu de?

A taki: - Baya, fa yu de?

- Mati Owrukuku, fa yu de?

A taki: - Baya, fa yu de?

- Baya, pe u e go so dan?

A taki: - We, a no wan gran banya o prey dape de? Ne den seni kari mi. Ne mi e go.

A taki: - We mati, dan meki u waka makandra. Bika mi srefi den kari tu. A dape mi e go.

A so ala den dri mati, den waka, den go. A yuru di den go so, umasma leki pesi.

We, te banya e prey, mofoneti, dan a mandron e prey sabaku. Mindrineti a e prey owrukuku, èn te musudey mamanten dan a e prey kakafowru di e broko dey.

We fa yu si den doro na a prey ini, mati Kakafowru bigin dansi. Mati Owrukuku sidon fu en a wan sey pii. A e luku mati Kakafowru dansi, te a doro wan pisi. Nomo a kon mindrineti. Dan mati Sabaku, na en ben de a tapu a dron, en e prey a langa dron. Nomo mati Owrukuku go na en, taki: - Mi mati.

A taki: - En?

A taki: - Gi mi afu dya, gi mi wan anu dron, mi prey.

A taki: - Baya, teki.

Owrukuku dyompo a tapu a dron. A bigin prey. We fa yu si Owrukuku bigin prey, we ala den suma di ben sidon a sey, ala dyompo so, den kon bigin e dansi, den way angisa gi en e figi en fesi. Ne mati Kakafowru luku duun, ne a bari a singi disi taki: -

Makukukuku,
ten de,
- No meki den uma kori yu.
- Ten de,
- no meki den uma kori yu.

Ma mati Owrukuku no e ferstan, leki a e prey a dron nomo.

Ma di Owrukuku sidon a wan sey, te a e prey dron so, nomo mati Sabaku kon, a taki: - Grantangi-oi! Ala suma dya na a prisiri, mi e begi un meki mi kan bari wan mofo singi anga un prisiri.

Ala suma piki taki: - Ya, masra Sabaku, yu kan singi, bika yu ben e prey dron. Ibri sma e komopo anga wan singi na en oso.

[p. 112]

We dan a de fu yu taki nomo, u e harki meki un piki.

Nomo Sabaku bari, a taki: -

Kolon kolon kolon,
san koniman.
Te na dey kon,
un sa si den moyman.

Ala suma piki. A dron bigin prey, den e dansi. Ma en, mati Owrukuku di sidon a tapu a dron e prey, a no frustan, taki na en Sabaku taki taki: te a dey opo, den sa si a moyman di den e way angisa gi, di den e figi en fesi. Bika Owrukuku fesi no switi. Dati ede a no e waka a dey, a soso neti a e waka. Ma en mati Kakafowru frustan, a dray baka, a luku mati Owrukuku, a bari baka: -

Makukukuku,
ten de.
- No meki den uma kori yu.
Ten de,
- no meki den uma kori yu.

We yu si, a yuru di mati Owrukuku e prey a dron so, nomo a haksi mati Sabaku, a taki: - Mati, olati u de? Dan u de dri yuru mamanten kaba.

Sabaku piki: - Mati, yu no abi fu frede, fa yu e prey a dron so moy. U no de lati, a dyonsnode twarfu yuru naki. Owrukuku e prey nomo.

We, a taki: - Mati, olati u de?

Sabaku piki: - Mati, yu no abi fu frede, prey fu yu doro, a dyonsno twarfu yuru naki. Dan u de fo yuru kaba.

Owrukuku de a tapu a langa dron nomo: akankan gringrin, kankan gringrin. Kakafowru e dansi. Sabaku e luku en nomo.

Owrukuku taki baka, a taki: - Mati, olati u de? Dan u de arfu feyfi mamanten. Sabaku piki: - We mati, a dyonsnode twey yuru naki.

Dan Owrukuku seri ede a tapu a langa dron. We, so a Owrukuku e prey a langa dron so, hala suma, nowan sribi no e kon na ay, leki a dansi nomo. Owrukuku saka en ede so, a kanti ede gi a langa dron. Nomo Sabaku luku baka, a bari baka taki:

[p. 114]

 

 

 

 

Kolon kolon,

 

san koniman,

 

te na dey kon,

 

u sa si den moyman-oy.

Mati Kakafowru dray en ay baka, a luku, bari baka taki:

Makukukuku,
ten de,
- No meki den uma kori yu.
Ten de,
- no meki den uma kori yu.

We yu si, a yuru di Owrukuku prey a dron, a saka en ede, a e prey. Sabaku srefi hopo, a e dansi.

Yu sabi fa dey e tan so, fa a broko so wantron so. A dey broko so wantron so. A yuru di mati Owrukuku hopo ede, a si dey fresfres kon ala presi. Hm! Now den suma si so takru fesi sani di den ben abi dape de. A yuru di Owrukuku wani gowe, ne den grabu tiki, ne den fon Owrukuku kiri.

We, na a tori disi: Mati e nyan anga mati, mati e kiri mati. A tori kaba.

[p. 81]

The juju of Basya Ajuku

 

My chief, I have heard

 

that you possess a trumpet,

 

but in that land of yours

 

there is no one who can blow it.

 

My chief, now I come to ask you:

 

- My chief, may I try the trumpet?

 

Then said my chief to me:

 

- Yes you, small boy Anansi,

 

you can take the trumpet

 

and try your luck with it.

 

Then took I the trumpet,

 

raised the trumpet high,

 

and blew the trumpet friends:

 

- pam, pam, pam, pam!

 

But before I came to the place

 

on the upper Cottica

 

which is known as Morgudan,

 

then swallowed I the trumpet, friends:

 

- fan, fan, fan, fan!

 

- Count on the way to, mother.

 

- Count on the way from, mother.

Well you see, the song I sang there was a slave-time story. For see, there was a plantation on the upper Cottica, which they called Success. But see, there was another plantation in Mot Creek, which they called Dageraad.¹ But at Success, there was a man whom they called Basja Ajuku. But now, when you grow old on the plantation, then the master does not want you around any longer, because he says, you only keep on eating for nothing, for you can't work any more, and then you must not stay on the plantation any longer. Your children must open up a piece of forest for you and build you a house of reeds and let you live in it. But of the plantation food you cannot taste any more. For see how it fits in? The slaves used to get their food every week. When a child is one year old it already gets its portion. The pontoon² goes to town and returns with salt fish.

1 Dageraad, meaning ‘Dawn,’ is the Dutch name of the plantation.

2 The plantation owned two kinds of boat: the so-called pondo, used for transporting goods and slaves, and the tenboto, used for white passengers. The tenboto had a canvas roof for protection from the sun.

[p. 83]

Now see what sort of food they gave them. Plantains and salt fish. And also with it came white cotton cloth which they wore when they went to church, and also black cotton cloth. Women received two wraparounds of black cotton. That was supposed to last the whole year.

But see, there was a woman whom they called Mama Amba. Her husband was called Kwami. They had a son. They called him Akampe. That is the first son. Two sons they had. The other, that is the second one, they named Ajuku.

Now when Akampe returned from the bakagron³ behind the plantation - here it was that he worked - now when he came home his mother could not work any more, his father could not work any more. Then Mama Amba called him. And he answered (this oldest child): ‘Why do you call me? You're old already. Can't you kick the damn bucket? You and your infernal botheration!’

Now when Ajuku came, she called him and said: ‘Ajuku?’

He said: ‘Yes mother?’

‘Come here, my boy.’

Ajuku went to her and said: ‘Mother, have you eaten already?’

She said: ‘No.’

‘Mother, what do you want to eat?’

She replied: ‘Well, isn't there a little bit of pounded plantain that you could perhaps cook for me?’

Ajuku went to the ditches. He caught land crabs. He caught fishes in a net. He returned. He pounded the plaintains for his mother and father. Sometimes he took out the chiggers from under their nails. On Saturdays, when he returned from work, he took out the chiggers and cleaned their feet. On Sundays, he took his mother's cotton wrap-around and went to wash it. He took his father's small loincloth, went to the river, washed it and dried it. But see now, the father owned a juju. He looked and stared attentively, the father.

Well, do you see, this tale that I here tell you - now the father he looked at Ajuku and then he called Mama Amba and said: ‘Amba, come!’

Amba lelele, call Mama Amba here.
Amba lelele, slave girls, call Mama Amba here.
Amba lelele, slave girls, call Mama Amba here.

3 The director's house was always built on the river bank. The area farthest removed from the river and the director's house was called bakagron.

[p. 85]

Well see, in this way he called Mama Amba and said! ‘Amba lelele, call the woman for me. Amba lelele, slave girls, call the woman for me.’

Well, Hmm! For see, because for Mama Amba, Ajuku is her child. Now when the father saw how Ajuku behaved toward him, then he called to him Mama Amba, to arrange with her that they should give the juju to Ajuku.

Then Mama Amba walked away, and took to the path with her stick. Then the father called after her: ‘Mama Amba lelele, call the woman for me. Mama Amba lelele, slave girls, call the woman here.’

Then Mama Amba turned back. Then he said: ‘Wife, look here, we have two boys. The Lord God has given us two sons in custody. But the eldest, you see, we do not count with him. But as for Ajuku, when he comes, then he takes chiggers out of our feet. He fetches water for us to wash with. He goes off to the ditches to catch fish in his net. He catches land crabs, cooks soup for us. Well, you see, I have here a juju which my father has taught me. But I myself have never put it to a test. But now let us try it out on Ajuku's behalf.

But the mother answered not. Twelve days long the father begged her. Mothers, their hearts are so soft. But this mother had a strong heart. The father however had a soft heart. On the thirteenth day the father called Ajuku aside and said: ‘Ajuku.’

Ajuku answered: ‘Father.’

He said: ‘Come here, my boy. If we ask you to do something, will you do it?’ Ajuku answered: ‘Whatever my father wishes. For see, my father slaved until he was old. And now the owner has said no one like that can stay on the plantation. All the others treat their parents badly until they die. But still, I have brought you here to the bush. I have made a house for you and mother. I bring food to you. For see, when you two give up the ghost, and I have put you in the earth, then only will I be finished with you.’

The father said: ‘So my boy.’ He said: ‘Do you know where I am going to send you? You must go into the bush and then you must look for the ant which they call the Worker. Then you must take out the heart of the Worker and bring it to me.’

Ajuku pondered a while. The mother, as for her, she sat a little aside. When the boy pondered, the mother started to intone:

Do you know the proverb which I here intone?
Yes, my child wants to know the proverb
which I throw out here.
Go into the bush,

[p. 87]

 

 

 

 

go fetch the heart of the ant they call the Worker.

 

Then you'll know the proverb which I here intone.

Ajuku pondered on this for a long time. Then he went home, he slept. The next morning he went to the bush. He walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked until it was twelve o'clock. He did not come upon a thing. He went to sit under a tree. He took the sweetmeat he had with him, cut off a piece and started to eat it.

But see, now, when he was busy eating the sweetmeat he saw Krabdagu⁴ coming toward him. At that time the animals could still speak. Krabdagu said to him: ‘Well, young man, how are you faring?’

Ajuku asked: ‘Krabdagu, how are you faring?’

Krabdagu replied: ‘I am hungry, my friend. Because I saw you eating, I decided to come.’

Ajuku said: ‘I don't know whether you will like what I am eating. I have sweetmeat made of cassave with me. If you will eat that, I will give it to you.’

Krabdagu replied: ‘Well, since you eat it and it does not kill you, then it cannot kill me either.’

He opened his hunting bag, took half of the sweetmeat and gave it to Krabdagu. Krabdagu ate it and went to sit next to him. He started playing with Krabdagu. After he had played with Krabdagu for a little while - it was the dry season, the heat beat down on them - he found a shady place, and since the wind was starting to blow a little, he got sleepy and he began to doze off. And from dozing he fell into a small sleep. The Krabdagu sat beside him. When he had slept for some time, and the Krabdagu saw that he did not wake up, the Krabdagu scratched him with his finger, and he woke up. Then the Krabdagu said to him: ‘Well, look here, young man, you've have fallen asleep a little bit, but I have remained with you. I have kept watch here while you slept, so that nothing should happen to you.’

He said: ‘Yes Krabdagu, thank you very much.’

The Krabdagu asked: ‘But where are you off to?’

He said: ‘Well see, it is like this. On my plantation where I live, when you have slaved for the owner until you are old, see, then you don't receive your ration anymore. Well now, as for all the others, when their parents do not receive their rations anymore, they detest them and treat them badly until they die. But as for me, I have built them a hut in the bush. I have planted what I could.

4 Krabdagu is a kind of raccoon, Procyon cancrivorus.

[p. 89]

Then I brought my mother - she can't work any more, she is known as Mama Amba - and put her in the forest with my father. The ration that I receive, I share with them, also that which I cultivate on the piece of land set aside for the niggers.

Krabdagu said: ‘Oh.’ He said: ‘But where are you off to?’

Ajuku replied: ‘Well, did not my father send me into the bush to find for him the heart of the ant they call the Worker? That is what I am after.’

The Krabdagu said: ‘Oh. Well, young man, if I knew it, I would have pointed it out to you. But see, now that you're going there, the Lord God will be with you.’

Ajuku went on his way. He walked and walked and walked and walked, until he came to a small creek. Now when he came to the creek, he cut off a stick. He wanted to cross the creek. He felt about in the creek with his stick, but just then he saw a big log of wood...

*

Ajuku cut off a branch and felt. But there where he is feeling he sees a log of wood lying. The log of wood does not lie in the direction of the creek. No, it has turned itself. What type of log is it? It is a big alligator. If you want to cross that creek you must step on the back of the alligator.

Ajuku wanted to do just this, when the Krabdagu appeared. The Krabdagu came and said: ‘Young man, we see each other again. For your sake I have come here.’

Ajuku said: ‘So?’

Krabdagu said: ‘Well, have you not yet found the heart of the ant which they call Worker?’

He replied: ‘No. I have come to the creek and want to get across.’

Krabdagu said: ‘Well you mustn't cross it for you see, that big piece of wood on which you want to cross, no human being can cross here. It is a big alligator. And all the other pieces of wood that you see adrift here, as soon as you set your foot on them, they turn into nothing but alligators. As soon as you get into the water, they will eat you up. Turn back, let me guide you.’

Ajuku walked. The Krabdagu was in the lead. When he had walked for some distance, he stumbled on a big tree. It looked as if a broom had swept underneath the tree. But before he came there, Krabdagu said to him: ‘Well see, you will come across a big tree over there. But now, when you go under the tree, it is swept clean as if there a person had swept it - do not spend a minute under it. For see, when

[p. 91]

you go under the tree, then it would invite you to sit down, it will even lure you into lying down. But do not dare to do it. Run away as fast as you can.’

When Ajuku went on until he came to the tree, a nice wind fanned him under the tree: ‘Ha!’ Ajuku wants to stop. He thought of what Krabdagu had told him. He took two paces, he stopped. He thought of what Krabdagu had told him. A wind fanned all around him. When he passed the shadow, he heard a voice behind him: ‘Ha! This is the first!’ So spoke the voice. Well see, there where the voice spoke, there is the place where all mothers of the bush live. But as for living beings, they never pass this place whole.

Now when Ajuku has passed this place, he stumbled on a block of wood. He was forced to go over that piece of wood. All at once the Krabdagu was there. The Krabdagu said to him: ‘Do not go across this piece of wood, young man, for the wood that you see there...

*

Well, when the Krabdagu came to him, he said: ‘Well see, the piece of wood over which you want to cross is Grandagwe. It is the biggest Aboma of the land, which people have succeeded in cornering here, and with whom the plantation owner has sworn an oath on behalf of the plantation, that he would give him three negroes to eat every year if he could harvest each year more sugar than the other plantations. So his heart caused the negroes to diminish in numbers. But then, see, on the plantations there were men of cunning. Then they came and cornered him here. And yet, when these men of cunning had become old, then the owner still chased them away from the plantation, saying that the children should take them away. Therefore, young man, please, don't step over it. For, as you see, he has been without food for seven years long, and for sure he'll gobble you up. But return home. And when you get there, then see, tell your parents that you have found the ant that they call Worker, and that you found its heart also.

Ajuku turned back. The time he took over his journey back was shorter than the time to this point. On his outward journey he walked very slowly, but on his homeward journey he walked fast. For see, he had found the ant that they call Worker, and he had taken out its heart. When he was back, his father called him and said: ‘Ajuku, my boy, are you back?’

He said: ‘Yes, father, I am back.’

[p. 93]

He said: ‘Where is the ant you bring with you, where is its heart?’

He replied: ‘Father, I have brought it with me.’

He said: ‘Where is it? Bring it to me.’

He replied: ‘Father wait. I shall bring it to you. For see, when I left, I saw this, I saw that. I walked, I saw this, I saw that. I walked, I saw this, I saw that. At last I stumbled on a big piece of rotten wood. It was so big, one could not even step over it. One had to climb over it. Then a Krabdagu said to me: It is the Grandagwe with which the owner has sworn an oath on behalf of the plantation that he would give him three negroes each year to eat, so that he, the owner, could grind more sugar than the other plantations in the area. The owner had sworn an oath for three negroes, but see, sometimes he gobbled up twenty to twenty-five until he had devoured all the negroes on Success. But see, then the elders - it was seven years ago - came here and cornered him. Now if I had climbed onto him, he would have eaten me up, because he is hungry.’

The father said: ‘Yes, my child, then you've certainly walked far! Well, do you know who the Krabdagu is that you saw?’

He answered: ‘No.’

He replied: ‘Well, see, that Krabdagu is the mother of the plantation, its earth goddess. And that is a Luangu. She has guided you.’

He said: ‘Well, my child, you see, as I've heard it from you, you've certainly walked far. But see now, I shall give you a juju. But be sparing with it. Do not tell your brother about it.’

He said: ‘Certainly not, father.’

He said: ‘Well see, I have a big tripod pan. Tomorrow morning very early, I will take you there to wash. But see now, when I have washed you for ten days on end, then you will find out how good I have been to you. But then, on the eleventh day, when you go to the field and the overseer asks you to do something, see now, then you must refuse to do it. You must go and walk a little.’

Then the father took Ajuku and brought him to the sacred tripod pan. He washed Ajuku. But the other brother, as for him he did not wash him. He washed Ajuku for ten days long. The eleventh day they went to the field. The overseer entrusted Ajuku with his task. Ajuku took his pipe and started to smoke. The overseer controls the work of everyone. He saw Ajuku's work and said: ‘Ajuku!’

He replied: ‘Yes, overseer?’

He said: ‘Aren't you working?’

He replied: ‘No, overseer, I am not working.’

In this way Ajuku played the game the whole week long from

[p. 95]

Monday till Saturday. On Saturday evening the overseer came to Ajuku and said: ‘Ajuku!’

He replied: ‘Yes, overseer?’

He said: ‘Well, tomorrow morning ... you have not done a stitch of work the whole week. You can't get any ration.’

Ajuku replied: ‘I can't be bothered.’

He said: ‘Well now, we shall trounce you. The owner has ordered me to flog you.’

Ajuku asked: ‘Overseer, how many strokes will you give me?’

Overseer replied: ‘Well, let's see now, we'll give you a hundred strokes.’

Well see, the hundred strokes which you hear now, they are actually two hundred strokes. Therefore, the tamarind which negroes, black people of African origin, use to make syrup which they drink, if they had any brains, they would not drink it. For see, the people who started the plantations, they brought the tamarind from other parts of the world to plant here. With this they beat their chattels, their slaves, they warmed the tamarind. Well now, when you know this, the tamarind must be taboo to you.

Well see, at that time, when they said that they would give you one stroke, it meant two. Because there were always two overseers who did it. Then they warmed the tamarind whip, they braided it, then they broke bottles and had glass woven in between. Now when the overseer gives you a blow with it and the blood streams out, then the owner laughs: ‘Overseer, you have golden hands.’

Thus, you see, two overseers, when they give you two strokes, then it counts for one. Then the overseer said to Ajuku: ‘Well Ajuku, we are going to give you a hundred strokes (which means two hundred), because formerly you used to work, but now you've become lazy, you've become cheeky. I shall tell it to the owner. Thus you shall receive a flogging on the seven-cornered Spanish buck.’⁵

Ajuku said: ‘It's all the same to me. Two hundred strokes ... well, overseer, that is child's play. Now if you were to give me seven hundred strokes, then it might dent my body. But two hundred ... you disturb me for nothing.’

The overseer looked fixedly at Ajuku. He reported to the owner.

5 The so-called Spaanse bok (‘Spanish buck’) was one of the cruelest punishments used in Surinam. The slave was tied in a bent-over position and flogged. His wounds were rubbed afterward with lemon and gunpowder.

[p. 97]

The owner said: ‘Beat the hell out of him, cheeky nigger. He will only die, for who can stand seven hundred strokes?’

Sunday came. Before they even came to call Ajuku, he was there. Ajuku said (still with his pipe in his mouth): ‘Howdy, owner.’ The owner answered him not.

‘Howdy, owner!’

‘Howdy, Sisi!’⁶

‘Howdy, Madame!’

They looked at Ajuku fixedly.

Then the overseer arrived. Ajuku stood. Ajuku climbed up. Now see, when Ajuku climbed up, he said: ‘Overseer, I ask you once again, how many strokes will you give me?’

Overseer replied: ‘Two hundred.’

He said: ‘Overseer, child's play. I thought you would give me seven hundred. Then at least you'd scratch my body.’

The owner stood with his big pipe on the balcony. Now see, when the overseer gave one stroke ‘whack!’ and the other also came down ‘whack!’ then Sisi yelled out: ‘My God, my back!’ For see, the stroke which fell on the back of Ajuku was felt by Sisi. Now see, when Sisi turned round then she saw, sitting on the jealousy chair, that the yaki she had on was torn open. Her whole back was torn open.

Ajuku called to the overseer: ‘Overseer, pour out your strokes on me! That I have need of. Let the strokes rain on me.’ Basja let it stream forth again. Sisi fainted. The owner came running and said: ‘Don't hit any more, don't hit any more. Sisi is dying.

Ajuku turned his head and said: ‘Overseer, let the strokes fall on me. Strokes I must have.’

As for the overseer, now, he did not understand anything of this. They started to beat Ajuku in a rather confused manner. But see, for all the strokes which came down, the owner shouted until he was rolling across the balcony. His pipe fell out of his mouth. His entire back was torn. The owner fainted, Sisi fainted, the plantation was in confusion. Then the overseer did not know what to do. They left Ajuku there.

Ajuku called: ‘Aren't you coming to beat me?’

The overseer threw down his whip. Ajuku returned home. When he came back, his father asked him: ‘My boy, how did you fare?’

He replied: ‘Well see, father, I've never seen such a thing.’

He crouched down, embraced his father, he went to the ditch, he

6 The more or less official mistress or housekeeper of the owner, herself a slave, was called sisi. She occupied an important position between masters and slaves.

[p. 99]

caught some fish, he came back to cook the plaintains for his father. For see, in this way Ajuku went about his business on the plantation.

Now there was a man in Mot Creek who had a plantation called Dageraad. They called him Mr. Mühringen. When the owner was a bit better, then he went out in his boat. Formerly they called these boats tenboto. Then they ordered the slaves to row. In this tenboto we are now sailing:

It is Sinamari which makes its curtsy here,
It is Sinamari which gives a show.
Sinamari-o
Hey-ho.
It is Sinamari which makes its curtsy here,
It is Sinamari which gives a show.
Sinamari-o
Hey-ho.
I am weary, I am weary,
Timan, timan, pa ... ruu.⁷

The boat is off to Mot Creek. The boat goes with speed against the tide. When the owner of Success came to Mot Creek, to Mr. Mühringen, they sat down and chatted. He said to him: ‘See, I have a Johnny on my plantation, but as for him, he is absolutely beyond control. The guy does not want to work. When you proceed to beat him up, then all the blows descend on my body, on Sisi's body. Three months ago they thrashed the fellow. My whole back was torn so that I nearly died. I am at my wit's end with the chap. Can't you suggest a plan to get rid of the fellow?’

Mühringen said: ‘Oh well, this is nothing. Well see, I shall show you something. On Sunday I will visit you. I'll take all my friends along. Then we will instruct the chap to go and pluck coconuts. And then we take potshots at them, blast them out of the tree.’

The man was consoled. He turned his boat and returned. He sailed home swiftly.

It is Sinamari which makes its curtsy here,
It is Sinamari which gives a show.
Sinamari-o
Hey-ho.
It is Sinamari which makes its curtsy here,

7 The ruu refers to the swishing of the boat through the waters, which, in the song, is represented by the dropping of the voice to an almost sibilant whisper.

[p. 101]

 

 

 

 

It is Sinamari which gives a show.

 

Sinamari-o

 

Hey-ho.

 

I am weary, I am weary,

 

Timan, timan, pa ... ruu.

When they came home and the rowers had moored the boat, the owner alighted and went inside. Sisi asked the owner how he had fared.

He replied: ‘Well, I went to my friend Mühringen at Dageraad, which is in Mot Creek. He gave me some consolation. Soon we are going to mop up the man.’

But see now, no sooner had the boat left than Ajuku knew it. Ajuku went to his father. His father said: ‘My boy, do you know what's in store for you? The owner is on his way to Mot Creek to Mr. Mühringen. But listen carefully. He will call you on Sunday morning to go and pluck coconuts. Then they will take potshots at you. But not only at you. They are going to summon nine of you. Then they will sit down in the house of the white man with their guns.’ He said: ‘Go and call such a boy. Go and call so and so. Summon them, because they will call nine of you. Then they will send you to pluck coconuts. But see, you are the first one they will take a shot at.’

Thus Ajuku went to summon the others. The father took them with him, washed them until he was finished. When he had finished washing them - on Saturday night he washed them for the last time - then in the early hours of Sunday, round about five o'clock, that is, between half-past five and six o'clock, the chief overseer came to the house of Ajuku.

‘Ajuku.’

‘Yes, overseer?’

‘The owner calls you.’

The overseer went to the house of the others. Ajuku walked to the mansion. In this way the overseer called the others until there were nine. When they came to the mansion, they said to Ajuku: ‘Ajuku, you get into this tree. You must go and pluck coconuts. As for you, you go to this tree, for you too must pluck coconuts. For the palms were planted in a long row.’

Then when they started to climb the palms - bear in mind that the owner was out to have his revenge on Ajuku - then he loaded both his double-barreled guns. He let fly. Wham! Oh! Now when the shot went off, Ajuku, instead of falling out of the tree, turned, looked at the

[p. 103]

owner and said: ‘Owner, take these bullets of yours back.’

The owner had such a fright that the gun fell out of his hands. Mühringen, who was present, loaded his gun and let fly at one of the others. Water gushed forth. Thus they shot. One person's gun broke. The other's shells did not go off. Mr. Mühringen started shivering. All the drinks which they had standing ready for drinking, they found impossible to drink. Mr. Mühringen went to his tenboto and rushed off to Mot Creek. The young men and Ajuku returned home.

Now when Mr Mühringen was on his way to the plantation, that is, Dageraad, then Ajuku made a small fire on a heap. He placed a few pieces of wood on it. Well see, because of the pieces of wood he placed on it, Mr. Mühringen couldn't bat an eyelid. As the fire glows, so his whole body glows. Then he came to say to the owner of Success: ‘Do not you realize that you are responsible for my plight? You have brought me here with the niggers of Success, so that I could not sleep a wink all night. I am forced to run around. My skin is afire, my whole body. I am not yet dead, and my whole body is already afire. But I shall leave this plantation. You, Woiski, you've brought me to this sorry plight, with the result that the niggers whom you have here - I am not even dead and they are burning my body.’

Then Mr. Mühringen departed from Mot Creek. He left Dageraad plantation and went to the Para River. And the negroes of Success, when the new year arrived, the time when they play the Susa game, then they sang:

One hears a yell on the Para,
- Tingaling.
- One hears a yell on the Para,
- Tingaling.
Mr. Mühringen left for the Para,
- Tingaling.
- One hears a yell on the Para,
- Tingaling.

Well then, as for Mr. Mühringen, he could not stay in Mot Creek. Well, you see, he moved his house and bought a plantation on the Para. The niggers of Success forced Mr. Mühringen to leave the upper Cottica at a trot. For he had come to help his friend, Mr. Woiski, who owned Success.

Well, countrymen, keep these stories in your head. I myself was not there during the time of slavery. But according to what the old people told me, that is the way they used to treat negroes in the old days. Thus the story is at an end.

[p. 105]

Friend Afrenkuma

 

Handsome friend Afrenkuma,

 

come fetch your food, my friend.

 

Handsome friend Afrenkuma,

 

come fetch your food, my friend.

 

My delima, my delima,

 

my sister, it is not you I want.

This is an Anansitori. Well, this Afrenkuma is a young man. See, his mother had three daughters and, in addition, Afrenkuma. Therefore, let us say, Afrenkuma was older than his sisters.

Now when Afrenkuma was a little older, that is to say, later on, then he had an eye on his youngest sister. That is to say, the last child of his mother. He and the girl are of one mother and father. But yet now he fancied her. Afrenkuma was stumped for a while. He did not know what to do. Then he became angry and left the house, he did not come home any more. He had a very small canoe; he went and sat in it and pretended he was angling.

His mother waited for him. His father waited for him. The mother said: ‘Oh, so. But the boy is not coming home. His sisters will have to go and fetch him.’

‘Not a chance, he will not come. He says that he won't come home again.’

‘My God! Look, I have got only one son. What's the matter with him?’

The mother said: ‘But just wait and see; he will get hungry. Okay. He says that he won't come. But when I cook, I shall send some food to him.’

When the mother had finished cooking, she dished up some food and gave it to the eldest sister. And then she said: ‘Here have it. Give it to your brother, Afrenkuma. Call him. He does not come to the land. But when you call him and he sees the food, he will come and fetch it.’

The sister took the food and went directly to the river bank. Afrenkuma was in the middle of the river, paddling his boat. Well now, the young girl sings, she, the sister of Afrenkuma, sings for him.

Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.
Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.

[p. 107]

The young man turned, looked at her and then he answered her:

My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is not you I want.
My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is not you I want.

The girl returned with the food. When she came home, the mother said: ‘So! How now? Are you back with the food?’

She replied: ‘Mother, my brother, Afrenkuma, says it is not me that he wants.’

The mother said: ‘Okay, tomorrow I shall send your other sister.’

The next day she sent the second sister.

Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.
Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.

My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is not you I want.
My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is not you I want.

She also returned. Good. The following day the mother once more cooked food. She dished it up and gave it to the last one. She said: ‘Take it and give it to him.’

When she approached, she also called:

Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.
Handsome friend Afrenkuma,
come fetch your food, my friend.

He turned, saw his little sister, and shouted:

My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is you I want.
My delima, my delima,
my sister, it is you I want.

Then he caused the boat to shoot forward and came quickly to the bank. He took the food and placed it in the boat. He took his little sister in the boat with him and was off.

Mother sits at home and waits for her child. Her child does not come home. She says: ‘What's the matter? Where is that boy?’

[p. 109]

She went to the side of the water. She called her daughter. Afrenkuma answered: ‘Oh mother, I can't return her.’

‘Afrenkuma, what's the matter?’

He said: ‘Well see, mother, she is my wife.’

‘Your youngest sister is your wife?’

He said: ‘Yes.’

Then his mother broke an apple in half. See, at that time women didn't have breasts. They were just like you and me. Then she broke the apple. She took aim and let fly, and - whizz!... bang! - she had breasts! She said: ‘You, Afrenkuma, you shall fly in the sky. You will regularly come to earth, but will inhabit the sky.’

Well now, Afrenkuma - what is it really? The name Afrenkuma, it is a dove, a homing pigeon. That is Afrenkuma ... that is to say, the young man became a dove. That is to say, he and his sister became a pair of doves, male and female.

Makukukuku,
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.

Well, you see, this song that I sing here - ‘Makukukuku, It is time, don't let the women fool you - this story is called ‘Never trust a friend.’

Well, friend Owl and Rooster were good friends. They went together everywhere. Now one day friend Rooster went outside, came across friend Owl and said: ‘Friend Owl, look here, we're seen together everywhere. But now I've been invited to a feast upstream. Therefore, I'm coming to fetch you to go with me.’

He said: ‘Really, friend? Well, what sort of a feast?’

He replied: ‘Well, there's going to be a big banya. As for me, Rooster, because I dance so well they've invited me. But see, you are my friend. They've told me to bring along whomever I wish, and I have no one else to bring along, except you. Therefore I've come to fetch you to go along.’

Friend Owl said: ‘Well, friend, you don't say. Wait a minute so that I can put on my clothes and then we can be off.’

Owl jumped up and put on his clothes. They went on their way together. They walked and walked and walked. When they were half-

[p. 111]

way, who do they see coming on? None other than friend Heron.

Friend Heron said: ‘Friend Owl, how are you?’

He answered: ‘Well, and you?’

‘Friend Rooster, how are you?’

He replied: ‘Man, how are you?’

‘Gentlemen, where are you off to?’

Rooster replied: ‘Well, isn't there a big banya being held? They have invited me. Thither I am going.’

He said: ‘Well, friends, let us then go together for they have also called me. I too am going there.’

In this way the three friends went on their way. When they arrived there, ho, women galore.

Well now, when a banya is being performed at the beginning of the evening, then the long drum plays heron fashion. At midnight it plays owl fashion. And in the early morning it plays rooster fashion, because the rooster announces the day.

Well, as soon as they arrived at the performance, friend Rooster started to dance. Friend Owl sat quietly aloof. He peered for a time at Rooster dancing. Then it was midnight. Friend Heron was sitting on the drum, beating the long drum.

Then friend Owl went to him and said: ‘Friend?’

He answered: ‘What?’

He said: ‘Let me too have a go at the drum.’

He said: ‘Take over.’

Owl jumped on the drum. He started to play. No sooner did Owl start to play than all the women who were sitting aside jumped up in unison and started to dance. They honored him by fanning him with their kerchiefs, and wiped the sweat off his face. Then friend Rooster looked fixedly at him, and sang this song:

Makukukuku
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.

But friend Owl did not understand, because he was so carried away by the drum.

And while he was sitting aside and playing, friend Heron stepped forward and said: ‘Please. All of you here, I beg permission to sing a song at your feast.’

All the people answered and said: ‘Yes, Mr. Heron, you may sing, for you have finished playing the drum. Everyone leaves his home

[p. 113]

with a song. You have only to sing and we'll listen so that we can join you.’

Then the Heron sang:

Kolon kolon kolon,
Oh, what clever ones
when the day dawns,
you will see the pretty ones.

All the people joined in. The drum started to play. They danced. But friend Owl who sat on the drum did not understand that Heron referred to him when he said: ‘When the day dawns you'll see the pretty boy whom they now fan and whose face they wipe.’ For the face of the Owl is a sight to give you sore eyes. For this reason he does not walk around during the day, only at night. But friend Rooster understood. He turned around, looked at friend Owl and once more sang:

Makukukuku
It is time
- Don't let the women fool you.
It is time
- Don't let the women fool you.

Well see, while friend Owl was sitting thus and playing, then he asked friend Heron what the time was. It was already three o'clock in the morning.

But the Heron answered: ‘Friend, don't be afraid, you are playing very well. It is not late. The clock has only struck twelve.’ Owl continued playing.

Well, he said: ‘Friend, what time is it?’

Heron answered: ‘Friend, don't be afraid. Play on. The clock has only struck twelve.’ But then it was already four o'clock.

The Owl sat on the long drum: akankan-gringrin, kankan gringrin. The Rooster danced. The Heron only looked at him.

Again the Owl said: ‘Friend, what time is it?’ By then it was already half-past four in the morning.

The Heron answered: ‘Well, friend, the clock has just struck two.’

Then Owl spent himself completely on the drum. Well, so hard did Owl beat the drum that all the people thought only of dancing and not of sleeping. The Owl bent his head, tipped his head to the side of the long drum. Then the Heron looked again and sang:

[p. 115]

 

 

 

 

Kolon kolon,

 

Oh, what clever ones

 

when the day dawns,

 

you will see the pretty ones.

Friend Rooster turned his eyes again, looked and sang:

Makukukuku
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.
It is time,
- Don't let the women fool you.

Well, you see, when the Owl was playing the drum, he dropped his head and beat it so that even the Heron got up and danced.

You know how it is at dawn; how it breaks out so suddenly. The day dawned all at once. When Owl lifted up his head, he saw that the dawn had come freshly all over the place. Oh! Look now. The people saw how ugly he really was. When Owl tried to steal away, they pounced on him with sticks and beat him to death.

Well see, that is this story, ‘Never trust a friend.’ My story is over.