Tag: Vai

In the days of Long Ago there was a certain small watering hole where doves went to bathe, and the Vai people who lived near that place called it Piling See, or Doves’ Hole. More and more doves came to sing and splash, so that the pool became crowded and other holes were made.

Every time the Big Rains came the holes would become larger, and at length they were all joined together as a lake. Through many generations the name Piling See has turned into Piso.

The lake has several islands. The smallest one is known as Poo, meaning Pigeon, for the colony of pigeons which lives there.

Kafatin Island is in the middle of the lake; a certain Vai source states that when canoes coming down to the sea reached this island the crews would rejoice, for half the trip was done; they would exclaim ‘Kafa’, meaning ‘Halfway’. However, the Bureau of Folkways points out that Kaifa in Vai means ‘over and above’, or ‘to cheat a person’, so this theory of name-origin is open to doubt.

The father of the islands is a sacred island named Boeba, ‘Owner of the World’. Boeba moves about the lake as it wishes, and if a canoe chances to be on the lake when the island moves, canoe and crew are lost forever in the waters.

If anyone points a finger at this sacred island he dies at once. No canoes go to it, and anyone who defiles the waters near it disappears immediately. Boeba is feared and respected, and left very much alone.

Masatin Island is the largest of all and his name is from Masa, the first woman to farm on it.

In former times Piso Lake had a fine strong voice for singing songs; on peaceful evenings it would sing a soft and gentle song, but when the winds roared and lightning fired the sky the waves of Piso Lake boomed against the shore with rich bass overtones and lesser waves drummed mellow modulations.

There came a day when the Sea Goddess and the sea, which had no voice, begged the nearby lake to lend its song so that the Goddess might be properly mourned. The lake consented, and her song was transferred to the sea.

But the song was so sweet and beautiful it revived the ailing Sea Goddess, and then the cunning sea refused to give it back, declaring she had borrowed it to mourn the death of the Goddess and would not give it back until the Goddess died.

So Piso Lake sings no more, but her song is heard throughout the breadth of oceans, causing men to wonder at the multitude of doves which swam and sang in the water-hole so long ago.

Leopard and Hare each fell in love with lady-Deer, and sought her hand in marriage. Hare was walking with lady-Deer in the forest when Leopard came along; and lady-Deer, who thought Hare was a rather small and unimportant animal, said:

“Oh, I see my lover coming.”

“Then what of me?” cried Hare. “Do you not love me?”

“No,” said lady-Deer, “I do not. Leopard is a gallant and daring animal, you are not.”

“Leopard is a horse! Would you marry a beast of burden, a slave-animal?”

“How is he a horse?”

“He is my horse. He carries me about. He is my slave.”

Lady-Deer did not believe him. Hare went away and bent his head with Leopard in a secret conversation. “I have been talking with lady-Deer,” he said, “and she admits she loves you, but says she could not marry such a fierce, proud animal. She fears you. I told her you had a gentle and tender heart, and that I would prove it.”

“I see,” said Leopard. “Then we must prove that I am not what I am. Go on.”

“My plan is this: you must be my horse and carry me through the town. Lady-Deer will see us, and she will think ‘Oh, what a kind and gentle animal Leopard is.’ Then she will agree to marry you.

Leopard thought about this, and then decided:

“Hare, what you say is true. It is a good idea. For one day I shall be your horse.”

“First you must give me a hamper of cassavas,” Hare said. Leopard gave him a hamper of cassavas, and then carried him around the town. Hare pretended to whip him, and pulled a rope tied around his nose. Next day Leopard went to lady-Deer, but she said:

“O Leopard, go from me. Foolish animal! Hare told me you were his horse, his slave-animal, but I refused to believe him until I saw him riding you through the town upon your back, and whipping you. Shame upon you, Leopard! I shall never speak to you again.”

Leopard was very vexed. He rushed away to find Hare. Hare ran and ran, but still Leopard followed him, and after two days he grew tired of being chased. He entered a cave he knew, and stood there with his hands pressed against the rock which formed the ceiling. He waited until Leopard entered, then cried out:

“Take care, Leopard! The ceiling is falling down. Hold up this rock a minute while I go for help, or we shall die.”

Foolish Leopard pressed his paws against the ceiling with all his strength and Hare ran away. Two raccoons came along and was Leopard there.

“Brother Leopard, why are you holding up a rock which was placed by God? Leave it be and come with us.”

Leopard saw that he had been tricked again, and went with the two raccoons. A week later Hare and his brother, Opossum (Giant Rat), captured the two raccoons. They took off their skins and tied the two naked animals to a tree, and in disguise Hare and Opossum went to Leopard’s house. Here they were received as guests, and after they had feasted Leopard gave them a sleeping room.

A rat had her babies in this room and she asked the guests to bring her some of Leopard’s food; Hare was willing to do this, but Opossum protested against such foolishness. Lady-Rat went hungry, and that night she ate the two raccoon skins while the guests were sleeping.

In the morning Leopard knocked on the door of the guest room. No one opened the door, but he heard sounds of excitement inside. He peered through a crack in the door, and he saw a strange and unexpected sight.

There was Hare dashing frantically about the room looking inside pots, tipping baskets upside down and searching everywhere for something which he could not find. And there was Opossum too, halfway down a hole which he was scrabbling in the floor. The two raccoons had disappeared. Leopard drew back from the door and held a conversation with himself.

“I put two raccoons in that room last night,” he muttered. Two raccoons. And during the night they have become something else. They have turned into Hare and Opossum. A strange thing.”

He remembered that he did not like Opossum very much, and that he did not like Hare at all. He growled a fearful “Wraagh!” and began attacking the door.

By the time he broke through the door Hare had already escaped, by pulling Opossum out of the hole by his tail and going first, under the wall and out into the forest. Leopard just managed to grasp Opossum’s tail as Opossum was about to leave, and the tail lost half it’s skin as the owner struggled free. That is why Opossum has a two-colored tail today.

When lady-Deer heard of Hare’s adventures she laughed too much, and since he was such a clever and amusing animal she agreed to marry him. Since that time Deer, Hare and Opossum have been Leopard’s enemies.

Two vultures in the east heard of the fertile lands which are Liberia today, and decided they would come and settle here. They flew west and west and further west, over rivers and mountains and plains, and in time they arrived at a town in this country.

They sat in a tree at the edge of the town, craning their naked necks to see what manner of people lived below, and how such food they had.

The well-built housed and handsome fields suggested prosperity, and when they say a woman throw a dead chicken from her window they thought it must be a prosperous place indeed. They knew that people in other lands could never afford to waste food in that way.

But as they watched a man passed by, and seeing the chicken there he picked it up and put it in his bag; and this, to the two vultures, was an evil omen.

“This would be a bad place for us to live,” said the second bird. “People are too thrifty to waste scraps.”

The two vultures passed on further west. Such birds infest the lands on every side, but have never settled on Liberian soil. 

The animals of the forest agreed to hold a feast, and everyone was invited. Now, Leopard has always been the enemy of Dog, and on this occasion he bitterly objected to the idea of Dog being invited to the feast.

“Dog is an eater of dung,” he said. “A wicked and unclean animal. He has no manners, none at all, and will only shame himself if he dines in company with polite people.”

The other animals did not agree, and Dog was invited to attend the feast. When the food was ready and all the distinguished animals had assembled, Leopard slipped out to the kitchen and told the cooks not to give Dog a bone; for he knew that Dog loved bones.

When the food was served everyone was given a handsome bone packed in tender meat: everyone but Dog, who was given a bowl of soup. Dog supped hungrily at his soup, but every now and then he would pause to admire the bones the other animals had; and Leopard, knowing Dog’s weakness, went to sit beside him with a large and juicy bone.

Leopard made pleasant noises as he ate, and when he found Dog was watching he took the chance of publicly disgracing him. He threw his bone in the air. Dog leapt up to catch it. He stepped in various dishes of food, and when he had the bone he scrambled over Possum and Hare to run away and cat his bone alone. The assembled animals were surprised, but Leopard only shrugged and said:

“I told you so. Dog has no manners and has disgraced himself.”

Dog became a social outcast among the animals; they all avoided him, and his life grew so lonely that one day he left the forest and went to live with Man.

Leopard delights in eating monkeys, and is forever devising schemes to catch them. One day when he lay in a cool place thinking, he decided to make friends with all the monkeys so that he could quietly eat them one by one.

Leopard was growing old, and could no longer climb trees easily. Therefore he went to a large mango tree where the Monkey Chief sat with his wives and family eating fruit, and began to make his talk.

When Leopard approached the tree the monkeys climbed up to the highest branches, which were too thin to bear Leopard’s weight, and from here they pelted him with rotten fruit and rude words. But Leopard raised a paw, and said:

“I come in peace, People of the Trees. In my youth I was a wild and savage animal; but now I grow old and soon will die, and before I die I wish to make friends with my enemies, and be loved instead of hated. I wish to live with you, my dear friends, and learn your jumping medicine.”

His hungry gaze fell on a plump young wife, and she shivered nervously.

“Your words are sweet,” the Monkey Chief agreed, “but your teeth, if old and yellow, are still sharp. This matter must be considered by our council. Call again tomorrow, and we will see.”

Before Leopard came again the Monkey Chief his smallest son inside a strong cane basket and securely fastened it. He placed the basket beneath the mango tree, and when Leopard came he said:

“O friendly Leopard, take this basket to your house, but do not open it. This is a test to see if we can trust you. Bring the basket here tomorrow, and we will show you our jumping medicine so that you may live with us.”

Leopard took the basket to his home. That night he and his wife talked of nothing but how they would feast on monkey meat, and grow fat in their old age.

The little monkey in the basket heard everything.

When morning came Leopard carried the basket back to the mango tree; the Monkey Chief took it into the tree and learned of the murderous plan his little son had overheard.

The Chief thought deeply for some moments: he had suspected some such trick all along, for Leopard is wicked and has no friends, and never will have any. With two strong wives the Chief descended to a branch quite near the ground, and said:

“O Leopard, if you live with us you must eat the things we eat. Can you eat this banana?”

He tossed a banana to Leopard. Leopard sniffed and knew at once it was not leopard-food, but he managed to swallow it down, skin and all, despite the nasty taste.

The Monkey Chief threw him a mango; Leopard bit the thing and broke a tooth on the nut inside, but he pretended nothing had happened and he swallowed both tooth and mango.

Next there was a chili, a hot red chili which caused poor Leopard’s mouth to burn, as he thought, to red-hot coals of fire. He gasped and choked, and tears rolled from his eyes.

“O Leopard,” the Monkey Chief announced, almost bursting his sides with stifled laughter, “I see you can eat the things we monkey-people eat; now we must show you our jumping medicine. To jump and swing as we monkeys do you must learn to use your tail, so raise your tail and we will show you how this thing is done.”

Leopard raised his tail, and the chief and his two wives firmly grasped it. In a moment they had pulled Leopard up into the air and knotted his tail about a branch: then all of them danced above him hurling rotten fruit and insults, while Leopard gnashed his teeth and swung in helpless fury.

“Swing, O Leopard, swing!” they cried. “Your crooked tale has earned a crooked tail!”

That is why Leopard’s tail swings to and fro when he is angry.

Eagle, Dog and Otter fell in love with the same maiden, and begged her mother to decide which one of them should have her. Soon after this the father of the girl disappeared while hunting in the forest; he did not return. The mother of the girl said to the three animals:

“Go find my husband, and bring him back to me. The one of you who does this shall wed my daughter.”

So Eagle, Dog and Otter set off to the hunter’s aid, and although no one knew where he might be Dog’s clever nose followed his trail until they all came to a forest pool. The hunter’s footsteps led into the pool, but did not come out again.

“He has been captured by the Water People,” Otter said. “I will see what I can do.” He dived into the pool, and underwater among the reeds he found the Water People, who held the hunter prisoner.

“What will you do with the hunter?” Otter asked.

“We are about to eat him,” the Water people said.

“Hunters are not good to eat,” Otter said rather firmly.

“Isn’t there something else you would rather have?”

“Well, monkeys are quite nice, but we can never catch them.”

“Why?”

“Because the hunter is a friend of mine. I would prefer you to eat something else.

The Water People talked among themselves, and then said:

“If you bring us a hundred monkeys, we will give you the hunter.”

Otter knew he could never catch a hundred monkeys. He doubted if he could even catch one.

“Would a hundred fish do?” he asked hopefully.

“We’re tired of eating fish. We want monkeys. A hundred.”

Otter sadly climbed out of the pool and told the news to Dog and Eagle. Dog gazed up into the trees and wondered how anyone could catch a hundred bounding, bouncing monkeys. If it had been lizards, or rats, or even cats. . . But Eagle, a powerful bird, took flight and with the aid of his clan hovered about snatching monkeys from the treetops.

This caused quite a disturbance in the forest; groups of monkeys fled chattering excitedly from tree to tree while eagles soared and swooped above them, and one by one a hundred protesting monkeys were dropped.

Splash! Splash! into the pool to the water People. The hunter was rescued, and of course agreed that the person who had rescued him could wed his daughter.

Clever Dog had followed his trail far into the forest to the pool.Otter had found him and arranged his ransom with the Water People.Eagle had arranged the capture of a hundred monkeys.Which of these three animals deserved the hunter’s daughter most?

A beautiful maiden called Nya lived in a village by the sea, well loved by all her people and desired by every young man among her people. She also loved her people, and would willingly have married but could not decide which man she loved the most.

One day a young man came from the east, riding the sea in a slim canoe and singing a happy song, and although he was neither handsome or rich, or famous, Nya fell in love and begged him to marry her: for the minds of women are fanciful and beyond men’s understanding.

The stranger saw her beauty and took her for his wife; he dwelt in that land with her for several moons, and she was well content.

There came a day when the south wind blew and the song of the sea was loud: the stranger walked on the shore alone, listening to the voice of the wind and the song of the restless waves. He took his canoe to the water and paddled out to sea.

That evening Nya called to him, but he could not be found. Men had seen him go with his canoe. She went to the sea and called his name, but all in vain for the south wind snatched at her words and tossed them away inland: and the stranger never returned.

Nya lay on the sands and sobbed, and died of a broken heart. Her spirit became a sea-gull, and when the south wind blows her lonely cry is heard as she calls to her lover who went away to sea.