AFRICAN SHORT STORIES

AFRICAN SHORT STORIES

BAKARY SABALLY

This is a wonderful collection of folk tales from Republic of The Gambia, in West Africa. The tribes of Gambia were at one time associated with the West African empires of Ghana, Mali, and Songhay. The area became Britain's first African possession in 1588, and the official language is English. The author skillfully captures the poignant folk culture of the ERA, and presents it in a refreshing, and enlightening manner. These are wonderful stories.

About The Author

Bakary Sabally is a powerful writer of African folklore. This collection of authoritative folk tales is an excellent example of his compelling writing style. The author's ability to capture the spirit, and strength of primeval culture, and customs is outstanding. The literary world will be hearing more from this new, and original writing talent.

e-BOOK

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

AFRICAN

SHORT

STORIES

Folk Lore From Gambia

BAKARY SABALLY

e-Book 2002

www.mittymax.com

AFRICAN SHORT STORIES

BAKARY SABALLY

e-Book

Maverick Publishing

HOUSTON, TEXAS

AFRICAN SHORT STORIES

BAKARY SABALLY

e-Book

THE ORPHAN GIRL — NENEH

Once upon a time there was a little girl by the name of Neneh. Neneh lived together with her stepmother and her half sister. Neneh’s stepmother was very cruel towards her. Whenever she finished cooking a meal, she would put her share on a stone at the fireplace and say: “Neneh, your meal is on the stone at the fireplace. If the dogs reach it before you, then its all theirs; but if you reach it before them, it’s all yours!” Poor Neneh would run as fast as she could but the fierce, hungry dogs would outdo her, and she would watch her half sister with hungry eyes as she peacefully ate her meal in a clean, white bowl. She would not be invited, and she would stay thus.

Most of the time she would go without meals, and she became wretched and despondent. One day she went to her mother’s grave and knelt down and sadly narrated her story: “Oh mother, oh mother.

My stepmother does things to me. My meals she would put on a stone at the fireplace and leave me I to compete with the fierce dogs.

Her own daughter’s meals she would put in a clean, white bowl to eat alone in peace and quiet.”

Her mother stirred in her grave, saddened about the lot of her only daughter and salt.

“Oh my child, oh my child.

Some die and some live. So has the Lord ordained...”

She quickly beckoned the fig tree beside her grave.

“Oh fig tree of heaven, please bow down and let the orphan child eat to her satisfaction; for many are the suns she has not put a single grain in her mouth.”

The fig tree of heaven bowed down and Neneh ate her fill in peace and quiet, and thanked the Creator and her departed mother and said:

“Oh fig tree of heaven.

Unbow and stand up straight”.

The fig tree of heaven unbowed and stood up straight. So her beloved mother had instructed her to say to the fabulous fig tree as soon as she had had her fill, and she went home happily.

Days went on like this and Neneh’s stepmother noticed that the little girl did not even bother to compete with the fierce dogs for a meal anymore, and yet looked well nourished. She must be getting her meals elsewhere, she thought. But where? She was puzzled! She instructed her own daughter to closely watch the movements of the orphan child and to follow her at once wherever she might go. As usual, she put Neneh’s meal on the fireplace and said: “Neneh, your meal is on the stone at the fireplace. If the dogs reach it before you, then it’s all theirs, but if you reach it before them, it’s all yours!”

Neneh did not pay her any attention, instead she disappeared among the huts in the yard and took to the village path leading to the graveyard, and her half sister followed her at once. Again she knelt down by her mothers grave and sadly narrated her story:

“Oh mother, oh mother, my stepmother does things to me. My meals she would put on a stone at the fireplace and leave me to compete with the fierce dogs. Her own daughters meals she would put in a clean, white bowl to eat alone in peace and quiet”.

Her mother stirred in her grave, saddened by the plight of her only daughter and said:

“Oh my child, oh my child, some die and some live; so has the Lord ordained...”

She quickly beckoned the fig tree beside her grave.

“Oh fig tree of heaven, please bow down and let the orphan child eat to her satisfaction. For many are the suns she has not put a single grain in her mouth”.

The fig tree of heaven bowed down and Neneh ate her fill in peace and quiet and thanked the Creator and her departed mother and said:

“Oh fig tree of heaven, unbow and stand up straight”.

The fig tree of heaven unbowed and stood up straight and Neneh went home happily.

Her half sister, who had watched her all the time from behind the bushes nearby, came out of her hiding place and stood beside Neneh’s mother’s grave and pretended she was Neneh. She said:

“Oh mother, oh mother, my stepmother does things to me,” but the deceased woman cut her off roughly before she even finished her story. “You certainly are not my daughter. Shut up and get away from here”, she admonished her.

The half sister got disappointed and was about to go when she saw a ripe yellow fig fruit on the ground. She pounced on it and ate it. She was sure she never ate anything so sweet since she knew herself. She was beside herself with joy, and she ran home and related her story to her mother.

“Mother you should taste that fig tree’s fruit. It’s so sweet - a mouth can’t describe its sweetness.” she concluded her story. The mother asked to be taken at once to that fabulous fig tree. They trooped to the graveyard and to the fig tree. Once there, the woman pretended she was Neneh and piped her story:

Oh mother, oh mother, my stepmother does things to me. My meals she would put on a stone at the fireplace and leave me to compete with the fierce dogs. Her own daughter’s meals she would put in a clean, white bowl to eat alone in peace and quiet”.

The deceased stirred in her grave and said in a seemingly sad tone:

“Oh my child, oh my child, some die and some live; so has the Lord ordained...”

She quickly beckoned the fig tree beside her grave “Oh fig tree of heaven, please bow down and let the orphan child eat to her satisfaction. For many are the suns she has not put a single grain in her mouth”.

The fig tree of heaven bowed down and the stepmother thought her trick had worked.

“Come my child, let’s eat to our fill”, she said endearingly to her daughter. Mother and daughter were beside themselves with joy, and no sooner had they seated themselves on the branches of the fig tree than they heard a frightening voice:

Oh fig tree of heaven, unbow and stand up straight, and shake off thy burden”.

It was Neneh’s angry mothers voice!

Forthwith, the fig tree swung straight up to the skies and cast down the stepmother and her daughter to the ground before they knew anything, and they both died painfully!

Now the king of the area heard about the mysterious death of Neneh’s stepmother and her half sister and the story about Neneh herself, and he ordered her to be brought to his presence in his palace. Neneh was brought forward and he ordered attendants and maids to wash her clean and dry, and give her royal garments. This was done and Neneh looked like a beautiful princess. Her hair, that was kinky and jet black, was braided and adorned with garlands of brightly colored flowers and silver and gold, shiny, colorful beads.

She was adorable and she was placed on a golden chair next to the king, and the king was delighted to see such a young beauty. He ordered the pages to fan her on both sides, and they did, and he ordered all kinds of delicious foods, fruits and drinks to be given to her, and this was done. He rose up and announced that from hence Neneh was his daughter— a princess, and that she was to live in peace by the grace of God in his royal palace.

And so it happened that Neneh came to live happily ever after in the royal palace.

THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH

OF MAIMUNA

Once upon a time there lived a maiden by the name of Maimuna. Maimuna was amber-colored, tall, slender and comely as they come. She had wide, lovely soft brown eyes that glowed like fireflies, and she had the gentle, dignified gait of a royal maiden or princess. She was charming, elegant and highly spirited, and well admired by young and old.

Wherever beautiful Maimuna went, young and old flocked after her to be in her celestial company. She would happily tell fantastic jokes, stories and laugh, and sing, and dance, and make everybody extremely comfortable and happy. Such was the legendary Maimuna. She was the center of attraction, the life of the village, the life of any party, and she remained unique in that respect and was in heaven.

One day her friends organized a grand open party at the center of their village and demanded that Maimuna be present, and Maimuna agreed. She went and informed her mother about the event that was to take place that night, but the mother shook her head and looked up from the bare floor and met her daughter's eyes. “That’s not wise, my child. I dreamed last night you were in immense darkness and that’s not good, my child. Don’t go to the party, please,” she said.

Maimuna said she had heard and wasn’t going to the party, but no sooner had her mother fallen asleep and started snoring than she quietly walked out of the room and headed for the center of the village. The happy, boisterous party makers were seated at tables regaled with all kinds of sweet-scented, delicious foods, fruits and drinks and waited only for beautiful, enchanting Maimuna’s entry to commence the great feast. They didn’t wait long — no sooner had they sighted the queen of the night wading through the brilliant moon and stars dressed in a lovely black and white spotted garment, hair beaded beautifully and adorned with several sequins of shining silver and gold, than ululations and the sweet beating of drums and flutes rent the breezy night air.

The enchantress craned her long, slender neck graced with sparkling beads and pearls this way and that way, and smiled amicably. Neat rows of milk white teeth flashed in the brilliant moonlight and she was all radiation of warmth and love. She perched on a high chair — a chair higher than all the other chairs, her royal chair! The crowd was beside itself with fresh joy!

At once the Master of Ceremony gave the start signal and drums and flutes competed for who was better at blending sweet, melodious music of love, joy and the inevitable trials and tribulations of life and death. The crowd was thrown in realms of sweet dreamland, wonderland and paradise. They ate of the heavenly dishes and fruits and drank to their fill. Life was simply sweet; getting their fair share and satisfaction like a good thing never seeming to come to an end, and they thanked and praised the benign Creator and persuaded Maimuna to entertain them. She rose from her seat and stepped down and walked with the charm and beauty of a peacock to the center of the arena — smiling freely.

The master drummer and wizards of the paradisal flutes stirred and she sang love songs, life’s sorrow, and many more, like she had never done before; people said her sweet, mellow voice sent a tremor in their bodies and made their hearts throb and pound with delight or sweet sorrow. Some said her golden voice was like the soft summer rains on a full flowing river.