Which Was the Biggest?

Long ago, three brothers sought a wise man’s help to divide a shared bull. On their journey, an eagle snatched the bull, leading to a chain of events: the bull’s bladebone caused pain to a goatherd, an earthquake, and a fox’s death. A woman crafted a baby’s cap from the fox’s skin. But who, among them all, was truly the largest?

Source
Folk Tales from the Soviet Union
Central Asia & Kazakhstan
compiled by R. Babloyan and M. Shumskaya
Raduga Publishers, Moscow, 1986


► Themes of the story

Quest: The three brothers embark on a journey to seek the wisdom of a sage to resolve their dilemma regarding the division of their shared bull.

Conflict with Nature: The narrative highlights the unpredictable forces of nature, exemplified by the eagle’s sudden snatching of the bull and the ensuing natural events.

Moral Lessons: The story imparts lessons on the unpredictability of life and the importance of seeking wisdom in resolving disputes.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Kyrgyz people


Retold by Mikhail Bulatov
Translated by Irina Zheleznova

Long, long ago in a certain village there lived three brothers who had nothing but one piebald bull between them.

One day the brothers decided to separate and live apart. But how was one bull to be divided among the three of them? At first they thought of selling him, but found no one in the neighbourhood rich enough to buy him. Then they thought of slaughtering him and dividing the meat, but this they could not do, for they were sorry for him.

And so they decided to go to a wise man that he might settle the matter for them.

► Continue reading…

“As the wise man says, so will we do,” they said, and they set off with the bull for the wise man’s village. The eldest brother walked by the bull’s head, the middle brother by the bull’s side, and the youngest brother came behind the bull and drove him on with a stick.

At dawn they were overtaken by a man on horseback who greeted the youngest brother and asked him where he was driving the bull. The youngest brother told him all about everything.

“We are taking the bull to a wise man who is going to settle the matter once and for all,” he said.

And he added, as he bade the horseman goodbye:

“You will soon overtake my middle brother. He is walking by the bull’s side. Give him my regards and tell him to urge on the bull. We want to get to the wise man’s village before nightfall.”

“Very well,” said the horseman, and, putting his horse into a trot, he rode away.

At noon he caught up with the middle brother who was walking by the bull’s side.

“Your younger brother sends you his best regards and asks you to urge on the bull if you want to get to where you are going before dark,” said he..

The middle brother thanked the horseman.

“When you ride up to the bull’s head,” he said, “give my regards to my elder brother and ask him to urge on the bull. We want to reach the wise man’s village as soon as we can.”

The horseman rode on, and it was evening by the time he reached the bull’s head and passed on to the eldest brother what his middle brother had said.

“There is nothing I can do,” said the eldest brother. “It is already dusk. We’ll have to stop and spend the night by the wayside.”

And he slowed his steps.

But the horseman did not stop and rode on.

The brothers spent the night in the steppe, and on the following morning started out again with the bull. All of a sudden the most terrible thing happened. A huge eagle swooped down from the sky, seized the bull in its claws, lifted him up to the clouds and flew away.

The brothers grieved and sorrowed for a time, and then went back home, empty-handed.

The eagle flew on with the bull in its claws. Soon it spied below a flock of goats and among them one which had the longest of long horns. The eagle dropped down, perched on the goat’s horns and began pecking and tearing the bull and strewing his bones all around.

All of a sudden it began to rain, and the goatherd and his flock of goats took shelter underneath the selfsame goat’s beard.

Suddenly the goatherd felt a sharp pain in his left eye.

“A mote must have got into my eye,” he thought.

Towards evening, as he drove his flock to the village, the pain grew worse.

“Call forty doctors, good folk!” he cried. “Let them sail in my eye in forty boats and find the mote. Not a moment of peace does it give me.”

And the villagers went and found forty doctors.

“Get into your boats and sail in the eye of our goatherd, doctors,” said they. “Find the mote and put an end to his pain. Only see that you don’t injure the eye.”

The forty doctors set sail in the goatherd’s eye in their forty boats, and they found the mote which was not a mote at all but the bull’s bladebone which had got into the goatherd’s eye while he was sheltering from the rain under the goat’s beard.

After that the goatherd’s eye stopped hurting him, the doctors all went home, and the bull’s bladebone was taken far beyond the village and thrown away.

Now, soon after this, some nomads happened to be passing the place where the bladebone lay. Night was approaching, and they spoke among themselves and decided to stop and build a fire there.

“This salt marsh is the best and safest place we can find to spend the night,” said they.

But when they were all settled and about to go to sleep, the ground beneath their feet began trembling and quaking. The nomads were frightened, and, piling their belongings on to their carts, moved off in haste.

Only when morning came did they recover from their fright and set up camp. And they sent forty horsemen back to the place where the earthquake had been to find out what it was that had caused it.

The forty horsemen were soon there, and they saw that what they had taken for a salt marsh was really a huge bone—the bladebone of a bull—at which a fox was gnawing even as they watched.

“So that is what made the earth tremble!” the horsemen cried. And taking aim, they let fly their arrows and killed the fox.

After that they set to work and began skinning it. But they only succeeded in skinning one side of it, for, hard as they tried, they could not turn the fox over.

They returned to their camp and told the elders all about it, and the elders began thinking what to do.

Just then a young woman came up to them.

“Do please give me the piece of foxskin your horsemen have brought, for I want to make a cap for my newborn baby,” she said.

The elders gave it to her, and the woman measured her baby’s head and began cutting a cap for him out of the foxskin. But she soon saw that there was only enough fur to make half a cap. So she went to the elders again and asked them to give her the second half of the foxskin.

The elders called the forty horsemen, and the forty horsemen confessed that they had not been able to turn the fox wer and skin its other side.

“If one half of the foxskin is too small for you to make your baby a cap out of it,” said they to the woman, “then you had better go and skin the fox’s other side yourself.”

The woman took her baby and went to where they had left the fox. She turned the fox over easily, skinned its other side and made her baby a cap from the two halves of the skin.

Now, here is a question for you. Which, do you think, was the biggest—

Was it the bull?

Don’t forget it took a man on horseback a whole day to ride from its tail to its head.

Was it the eagle?

Don’t forget that it carried the bull with it to the sky.

Was it the goat?

Don’t forget that it was on its horns that the eagle perched and pecked at the bull.

Was it the goatherd?

Don’t forget that forty doctors sailed in his eye in forty boats.

Was it the fox?

Don’t forget that it started an earthquake by gnawing at the bull’s bladebone.

Was it the baby?

Don’t forget that it was as much as its mother could do to make it a cap from the whole of the fox’s skin.

Or was it the woman who had such a giant of a baby?

Think hard now, and perhaps you will know the answer.


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How the Mosquitos Came to Oneata

In ancient Oneata, life was blissful—free of mosquitos and rich with the Kekeo shellfish. But this peace ended when the foolish god Wakuli-kuli traded with the cunning god Tuwara of Kambara. Wakuli-kuli, enchanted by mosquitos’ “sweet song,” traded the shellfish for them. The deceitful bargain brought endless torment to Oneata, as the mosquitos thrived, while the Kekeo was forever lost.

Source
Tales from Old Fiji
by Lorimer Fison
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
at the Ballantyne Press
by Alexander Moring Ltd
London, 1904


► Themes of the story

Trickster: The cunning god Tuwara deceives Wakuli-kuli into trading the valuable Kekeo shellfish for the troublesome mosquitos, showcasing the classic trickster archetype.

Conflict with Nature: The introduction of mosquitos to Oneata disrupts the natural harmony of the island, leading to ongoing struggles between the inhabitants and the new pest.

Moral Lessons: The story imparts a lesson on the consequences of foolish decisions and the importance of wisdom in leadership.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Fijians


by the Lord of Oneata

In the old days there were no mosquitos in Oneata. Happy times were those; for then we were not tormented by their bitings, and our women also were blest, in that they were not weary with beating out tree-bark for cloths, to make curtains withal, as in this our day. Moreover, we had then the Kekeo, that excellent shellfish, in such numbers that the beach was covered with them. Our fathers ate them every day, and were full; but now, you might search the whole island over, and not one would you find.

A foolish god was the root of this evil; even Wakuli-kuli, who was the god of Oneata in the olden time, and who dwelt here, as a chief, ruling his people.

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A great stay-at-home was he; and indeed there was no saiUng about in those days, for there were no canoes. But when the great Serpent-god brought the great flood upon the tribe of the Mataisau (or “Boat-builders”) because they killed Turu-kawa, his dove, then certain of them drifted to Kambara. Twelve of them were they who drifted thither; and they had tied themselves to a big tree, which floated with them over the waters. Ten were living, and two were dead, having been killed by the sharks as they drifted over the sea. So these ten landed at Kambara, and begged their lives of the chiefs, who spared them, making them their carpenters; and this was the beginning of our having canoes up here to Windward.

Now the men of Kambara, in those days, were eaten up by mosquitos. No rest had they, day or night, because of them; and the noise of the beating was heard continually in every house, as the women beat the bark into cloth to make mosquito-curtains, till their arms ached and were sore weary. Neither had they the Kekeo, that excellent shell-fish; though in these days it is found all along the beach, and the inland lake at Vuang-gava (near Kambara) is full of it, while never a mosquito is there to wake them out of their sleep. And that which brought about this blessed change was the wisdom of their god Tuwara, who dwelt with them in the olden time, ruling them as a chief; even as the god of our fathers ruled here at Oneata.

Happy is the country where the gods are wise: but woe to the land whose god is a fool!

A wise one and cunning was Tuwara; therefore he rejoiced greatly when the Boat-builders drifted to his land, and told him of the wonderful vessels which they could build, wherein men could sail across the seas, even in stormy weather, and live. Glad of heart was he; because he saw what good things might come out of his sailing: he saw, moreover, that his land was full of splendid timber; and he set the ten carpenters to work at once, giving them food, and houses, and wives, that they might forget their weeping for those who were lost; for their beautiful town which was swallowed up by the waves; and for the great and mighty kingdom, now gone from them for ever. So they settled down at Kambara, with their wives, and (in due time) with their little ones, working hard every day at the double canoe that they were building for the god.

Two years and more were they in building it; for in those days there were no knives, nor hatchets, nor gouges, nor saws, nor gimlets in Fiji. Weary then was the work of canoe-building; for sharp stones were our only hatchets; and we used to burn the logs with fire, on the side which we wanted to cut, chopping off the charcoal with our stone axes, and then burning again: so that many were the burnings, and many the choppings before so much as one plank was finished; while, for boring holes, we had nothing but a pointed shell and a small firebrand.

Nevertheless the canoe was finished at last, and dragged down to the sea. Great then were the rejoicings in Kambara, and rich the feast that was made for the Boat-builders: but Tuwara could not rest till he sailed away beyond the reef out into the open sea. So he hurried on the work; and, when all was ready — mast, sail, ropes, sculls, steering-oars, poles; even all the fittings — then went he on board, with the ten carpenters as his crew, and a great crowd of his people besides; and sailed away before a pleasant breeze; all the Kambarans, who were on board, singing a merry song; while their friends, who stayed behind, ran along the beach, shouting after them.

But, when the canoe began to pitch and roll among the waves outside, it was not long before the merry chant was changed into a chorus of groans; and all the singers lay sprawling along the deck; not a man of them being able so much as to lift his head; for they were all very sick.

“Here, now, is a terrible thing!” moaned Tuwara. “What is this, ye carpenters? What is this fearful sickness? Oh, my soul is gone. Villains that you are, to bring me into this evil case!”

But the Boat-builders only laughed. “Let not your soul be small, my lord,” said they. “Wait a little while and your trouble will be over. It is always thus when we first put to sea.” Wherewith Tuwara comforted himself, as best he might; and the canoe went swiftly onward before the pleasant breeze, till Oneata rose out of the waters in their course.

Then said Malani, the greybeard, eldest of the Boat-builders, “There is land, sir, ahead. Shall we steer for it; or whither do you wish to go?”

“Steer for it, by all means,” groaned Tuwara. “Let me but get to land once more!”

So they went to Oneata: and, when our fathers saw them coming, they were sore afraid, and hid themselves in the forest; for they took the canoe for some great living sea-monster coming to devour them: wherefore the town was empty when the strangers landed; and Tuwara threw himself down on the mats in the king’s house, saying, “Now I live!” But when, peeping out from their hiding places, they saw that the Kambarans were men, even as themselves, and that they went about peaceably doing no harm, their souls came back to them again; and, when they had heard the strangers’ report, they took courage, and went down to the beach to see the canoe, whereat they wondered greatly.

Many days did Tuwara stay at Oneata, living in great peace and friendship with the god of that island; for the Kambarans were loth to depart from so good a land as ours, where no mosquitos drank their blood by night, and where they ate the shellfish every day to the filling of their stomachs. And, when they went away, they took the god of Oneata with them, that he might see their land, and that they might return to him and to his men the kindness wherewith they had been treated at Oneata. So these two gods sailed and were seasick together, though the wind was light — so light that the sun was near going down into the waters when they reached Kambara. Then they landed, and went up to the great house, where a rich feast was all made ready and waiting for them, the people having seen them coming afar off.

After they had eaten their fill, and when the kava-bowl was empty, the god of Oneata began to yawn; for he was tired and sleepy.

“Come with me, friend,” said Tuwara. And he took im within the great mosquito curtain.

“What is this?” asked the Oneata god, in great surprise at the bigness thereof, and the beauty of the painting. “A wonderful piece of cloth is this! We have none such in my land. But why do you keep it thus hung up, Tuwara? What, then, is its use?”

“Its use,” answered the other — “its use, do you ask? It is a useful thing. It is useful as a — yes, as a screen to hide me, when I wish to sleep. Therefore do I keep it thus hung up in the midst of the house. And, moreover, it is very useful when the wind blows strong and cold. But let us sleep now, and in the morning I will show you the town.”

Thus spake Tuwara, because he was ashamed of the mosquitos; for he knew that there were none at Oneata; and he wanted to hide from his companion the thing which was the plague of his land. Wherefore he lied to him about the curtain.

Not long was it after darkness had closed in, before the house was full of mosquitos, and the god of Oneata heard them buzzing in thousands outside the curtain, just as he was dozing off to sleep.

“What is that?” cried he. “What sweet sound is that?”

“What can I say to him now?” thought Tuwara in great perplexity; and not being able to think of anything, he pretended to be asleep, and answered only with a snore.

“Hi! Tuwara!” shouted the Oneata god, punching him into wakefulness. “Wake up, Tuwara, and tell me what sweet sounds are these.”

“Eh? What? What’s the matter?” said Tuwara with a yawn.

“What are those pleasant sounds? Truly a sweet and soothing note is that which I now hear.”

“Pleasant sounds? Ah, yes — the buzzing. Oh, that’s only the mosquitos.”

“And what are mosquitos? “ asked his companion.

“They are little insects that fly in the air by night and buzz. I keep them to sing me to sleep,” said the artful Tuwara.

“A treasure indeed!” cried the other god. “Woe is me that there are none at Oneata. Give them to me, Tuwara.”

“Give you my mosquitos! I dare not, indeed. My people would never forgive me. They would hate me, and rebel. Wretched indeed should we be if there were no mosquitos on Kambara.”

“Well, then, give me some of them,” pleaded his companion. “Give me some, and keep some yourself, that we may both have them.”

“It is impossible,” replied the cunning one. “They are a loving tribe. If I send even a few of them away, all the rest will leave me. Truly my soul is sore in that I must refuse you, Wakuli-kuli; but refuse you I must. And now let us sleep, for my word is spoken.”

“No, no!” whined the foolish god, in a voice that was neighbour to crying: “refuse me not, I beseech you. Give me the mosquitos, that I may take them to our land; and, when we hear their song in the night, we shall think of you, and say to our children, ‘Great is the love of Tuwara.’”

“That, indeed, is a tempting thought,” said the Kambara god. “ Glad should I be for you to hold us in loving remembrance. But what am I to say to my people 1 How can I appease their anger when they rage against me, saying, ‘Our god has given away for nothing our dear mosquitos?’” And his voice fell heavy on the words “for nothing.”

“For nothing!” cried the other. “No, truly! All that I have is yours. Name anything that you saw in my land, and you shall have it; only let the insects be mine that sing this pleasant song.”

“Well then — I do not ask for myself. Gladly would I give you freely anything that is mine; but my people, friend, my people! You know these children of men, and their ways, how covetous they are. And what is there in your land that would satisfy them? Of a truth I cannot think of anything at all. Ah, yes! There is the shellfish! That will do. That is the very thing for these people. Fill but their stomachs, and you can do anything with them. Give me the shellfish, friend, and my mosquitos are yours.”

“Willingly, willingly!” cried the other in an eager voice. “It’s a bargain, Tuwara. And now let us lift up the curtain and let some of them in, that I may see them.”

“Forbear!” cried Tuwara, starting up in a great fright, lest the mosquitos should get at his companion and bite him, and he thereby repent of his bargain. “Forbear! Lift not the curtain, friend, lift it not! A modest tribe and a bashful are they; nor can they bear to be looked upon: therefore do they hide themselves by day, and it is in the darkness only that they sing their pleasant song.”

“Wou! wou!” exclaimed the silly one. “Wonderful things do I hear! The curtain shall remain unlifted.”

“And now, do let us sleep,” said Tuwara; “for it is far into the night; and we will sail together in the morning, taking with us the mosquitos.”

So they ceased talking, but neither of them slept; for he of Oneata was listening all night to the song of the biters; and Tuwara was chuckling to himself over the good bargain he had made; being, moreover, fearful that the foolish god would find him out before he could get the shellfish. “I must not let him rise too early,” thought he, “lest there should perhaps be still some of them flying about the house.”

But his companion was stirring with the first streak of dawn. “Wake, Tuwara, wake!” cried he. “Give me the mosquitos, and let us go.”

“Isa, isa!” said the other, with a great yawn. “What a restless one you are! Here you have kept me awake all night with your talking; and now you want me to rise before it is day! Lie still, Wakuli-kuli; lie still yet for a little while. This is just about the time when the mosquitos are gathering together to fly away to the cave, where they sleep till night comes again over the land: and, if we go among them now, we shall disturb them, causing them to flee hither and thither, so that we shall not be able to “catch them for you to-day.”

“That would indeed be an unlucky chance,” said he from Oneata. “Let us by all means lie still, and wait till they be fairly asleep.”

But, so great was his eagerness, that he could not rest. Sorely did he plague Tuwara; starting up every little rhWt, and crying out, “Do you think they are asleep yet, Tuwara?” or “Surely by this time they are all in the cave”: and with many suchlike foolish words did he vex the soul of the Kambara god, till he waxed very wroth, and would have smitten him with his club, but for his hope of the shellfish. Therefore he kept his temper, putting the silly one off from time to time, with soothing words, till it was broad day; and then he said, “Now will they be all asleep. Come, friend, rise, and let us sail.”

How he got the mosquitos together we do not know; but our fathers said he shut them all up in a big basket, which was lined inside, and covered with fine mats, through the plait whereof not even a little one could crawl. And, when this basket was carried on board the canoe, they hoisted the sail, and went out, through the passage, into the open sea, steering for Oneata.

Terribly seasick were they both: but neither of them cared so much for it this time; he of Oneata being cheered by the thought of his sweet singers; and Tuwara because he was now well rid of them, and moreover because of the shellfish; wherefore were they both content to suffer.

The sun was still high in the heavens when they furled their sail at Oneata; and the Oneata god leaped on shore, crying aloud, “Come hither, my people. Come hither, all of you, and see the good things I have brought. Hand down the basket, Tuwara, that the hearts of my people may be glad.”

“Not so!” answered the cunning Tuwara. “The mosquitos are a loving folk, as I told you before; and if we were to let them go while I am in sight, they will not leave the canoe; for they love me, friend, they love me. Give me therefore the shellfish, and I will depart, leaving the great basket with you. And, if you are wise, you will not open it till I am beyond the reef, lest the mosquitos should fly after me, and leave you.”

“True!” quoth the foolish god. “True are your words, Tuwara. A wise god are you; for you think of everything. Come from the beach, from the sea, from the rocks, ye shellfish! Come! for your lord is calling!”

Then from the rocks, from the sea, from the beach, came the shellfish, crawling over the sand, a great multitude. And the Boat-builders threw them into the canoe, our fathers also helping, till it was full, and heaped high above the deck, and there was not one shellfish left on the land.

“Go now, Tuwara,” cried his companion, “give me the basket and go; for the shellfish are all on board.”

So Tuwara handed down the basket, while the Boat-builders hoisted the great sail, and soon the canoe was gliding swiftly away towards the passage; while the Oneata men crowded round the basket, asking their god all manner of eager questions as to its contents.

“It must be something wonderful,” said they, “or our lord would never have parted with the shellfish.”

“Wait and see,” quoth the god, with a self-satisfied smile.

As soon as the canoe had cleared the reef, he untied the fastenings of the basket, and lifted the mat wherewith it was covered. “Here is our treasure,” cried the foolish god.

Then uprose the mosquitos in a cloud, fierce and angry; and Tuwara could hear the screams and yells of our fathers, as they smarted under the sharp bites of the savage insects.

“The god of Oneata’s sweet singers have begun their song,” said he, as soon as he could speak for laughing. “Many fools have I met with among the children of men, but never such a fool as the god of Oneata.”

Many were the schemes which the miserable god tried to rid himself of the plague he had bought so dearly; but they were all in vain, for the mosquitos increased in numbers day by day; and their night-song, that sounded so sweetly in his ears when he first heard it at Kambara, became more fearful to him than the war-cry of an enemy.

Many plots, also, did he lay to get back the shellfish; but what chance had such an one as he in plotting against Tuwara! Once, indeed, after some years, when he had a canoe of his own, he went over to Kambara in the night, making sure of getting them. And standing on the beach he cried aloud: “Come from the shore, from the sea, from the rocks, ye shellfish! Come, for your lord is calling!” but not one of them came — it was as if they heard him not.

There was one, however, who heard him — even Tuwara, who had seen him coming, and lain in wait for him. Creeping therefore softly up behind him, he smote him full on the head with his club, crying aloud, “O villainous god! Would you steal my shellfish?” and drove him howling down to his canoe.

Thus the Kekeo, that excellent shellfish, was lost to us; and thus it was that “The Mosquitos came to Oneata.”


Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Shark-man, Nanaue

The tale of Nanaue, son of the Hawaiian shark god Kamohoalii, recounts his transformation from a curious child with a shark mouth on his back to a feared man-shark predator. Despite warnings, his upbringing instilled a dangerous appetite for human flesh, causing chaos across islands. Ultimately, he was captured and destroyed in Molokai after wreaking havoc, leaving lasting marks on Hawaiian landscapes and legends.

Source
Hawaiian Folk Tales
a collection of native legends
compiled by Thos. G. Thrum
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1907


► Themes of the story

Tragic Flaw: Nanaue’s inherent craving for human flesh, inherited from his divine lineage, leads to his downfall, illustrating how an intrinsic weakness can result in tragedy.

Conflict with Nature: The narrative showcases the struggle between humans and the natural world, as Nanaue’s predatory actions disrupt communities and provoke fear.

Divine Punishment: Nanaue’s ultimate capture and destruction can be seen as retribution for his transgressions against human society, reflecting the consequences of defying moral boundaries.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians


by Mrs. E.M. Nakuina

Kamohoalii, the King-shark of Hawaii and Maui, has several deep sea caves that he uses in turn as his habitat. There are several of these at the bottom of the palisades, extending from Waipio toward Kohala, on the island of Hawaii. A favorite one was at Koamano, on the mainland, and another was at Maiaukiu, the small islet just abreast of the valley of Waipio. It was the belief of the ancient Hawaiians that several of these shark gods could assume any shape they chose, the human form even, when occasion demanded. In the reign of Umi, a beautiful girl, called Kalei, living in Waipio, was very fond of shellfish, and frequently went to Kuiopihi for her favorite article of diet.

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She generally went in the company of other women, but if the sea was a little rough, and her usual companion was afraid to venture out on the wild and dangerous beach, she very often went alone rather than go without her favorite sea-shells.

In those days the Waipio River emptied over a low fall into a basin partly open to the sea; this basin is now completely filled up with rocks from some convulsion of nature, which has happened since then. In this was a deep pool, a favorite bathing-place for all Waipio. The King shark god, Kamohoalii, used to visit this pool very often to sport in the fresh waters of the Waipio River. Taking into account the many different tales told of the doings of this shark god, he must have had quite an eye for human physical beauty.

Kalei, as was to be expected from a strong, well-formed Hawaiian girl of those days, was an expert swimmer, a good diver, and noted for the neatness and grace with which she would lelekawa (jump from the rocks into deep water) without any splashing of water, which would happen to unskilful divers, from the awkward attitudes they would assume in the act of jumping.

It seems Kamohoalii, the King-shark, had noted the charms of the beautiful Kalei, and his heart, or whatever answers in place of it with fishes, had been captured by them. But he could not expect to make much of an impression on the maiden’s susceptibilities in propria persona, even though he was perfectly able to take her bodily into his capacious maw; so he must needs go courting in a more pleasing way. Assuming the form of a very handsome man, he walked on the beach one rather rough morning, waiting for the girl’s appearance.

Now the very wildness of the elements afforded him the chance he desired, as, though Kalei was counted among the most agile and quick of rock-fishers, that morning, when she did come, and alone, as her usual companions were deterred by the rough weather, she made several unsuccessful springs to escape a high threatening wave raised by the god himself; and apparently, if it had not been for the prompt and effective assistance rendered by the handsome stranger, she would have been swept out into the sea.

Thus an acquaintance was established. Kalei met the stranger from time to time, and finally became his wife.

Some little time before she expected to become a mother, her husband, who all this time would only come home at night, told her his true nature, and informing her that he would have to leave her, gave orders in regard to the bringing up of the future child. He particularly cautioned the mother never to let him be fed on animal flesh of any kind, as he would be born with a dual nature, and with a body that he could change at will.

In time Kalei was delivered of a fine healthy boy, apparently the same as any other child, but he had, besides the normal mouth of a human being, a shark’s mouth on his back between the shoulder blades. Kalei had told her family of the kind of being her husband was, and they all agreed to keep the matter of the shark-mouth on the child’s back a secret, as there was no knowing what fears and jealousies might be excited in the minds of the King or high chiefs by such an abnormal being, and the babe might be killed.

The old grandfather, far from heeding the warning given by Kamohoalii in the matter of animal diet, as soon as the boy, who was called Nanaue, was old enough to come under the taboo in regard to the eating of males, and had to take his meals at the mua house with the men of the family, took especial pains to feed him on dog meat and pork. He had a hope that his grandson would grow up to be a great, strong man, and become a famous warrior; and there was no knowing what possibilities lay before a strong, skilful warrior in those days. So he fed the boy with meat, whenever it was obtainable. The boy thrived, grew strong, big, and handsome as a young lama (Maba sandwicensis) tree.

There was another pool with a small fall of the Waipio River very near the house of Kalei, and the boy very often went into it while his mother watched on the banks. Whenever he got into the water he would take the form of a shark and would chase and eat the small fish which abounded in the pool. As he grew old enough to understand, his mother took especial pains to impress on him the necessity of concealing his shark nature from other people.

This place was also another favorite bathing-place of the people, but Nanaue, contrary to all the habits of a genuine Hawaiian, would never go in bathing with the others, but always alone; and when his mother was able, she used to go with him and sit on the banks, holding the kapa scarf, which he always wore to hide the shark-mouth on his back.

When he became a man, his appetite for animal diet, indulged in childhood, had grown so strong that a human being’s ordinary allowance would not suffice for him. The old grandfather had died in the meantime, so that he was dependent on the food supplied by his stepfather and uncles, and they had to expostulate with him on what they called his shark-like voracity. This gave rise to the common native nickname of a manohae (ravenous shark) for a very gluttonous man, especially in the matter of meat.

Nanaue used to spend a good deal of his time in the two pools, the one inland and the other opening into the sea. The busy-bodies (they had some in those days as well as now) were set to wondering why he always kept a kihei, or mantle, on his shoulders; and for such a handsomely shaped, athletic young man, it was indeed a matter of wonder and speculation, considering the usual attire of the youth of those days. He also kept aloof from all the games and pastimes of the young people, for fear that the wind or some active movement might displace the kapa mantle, and the shark-mouth be exposed to view.

About this time children and eventually grown-up people began to disappear mysteriously.

Nanaue had one good quality that seemed to redeem his apparent unsociability; he was almost always to be seen working in his mother’s taro or potato patch when not fishing or bathing. People going to the sea beach would have to pass these potato or taro patches, and it was Nanaue’s habit to accost them with the query of where they were going. If they answered, “To bathe in the sea,” or, “Fishing,” he would answer, “Take care, or you may disappear head and tail.” Whenever he so accosted any one it would not be long before some member of the party so addressed would be bitten by a shark.

If it should be a man or woman going to the beach alone, that person would never be seen again, as the shark-man would immediately follow, and watching for a favorable opportunity, jump into the sea. Having previously marked the whereabouts of the person he was after, it was an easy thing for him to approach quite close, and changing into a shark, rush on the unsuspecting person and drag him or her down into the deep, where he would devour his victim at his leisure. This was the danger to humanity which his king-father foresaw when he cautioned the mother of the unborn child about feeding him on animal flesh, as thereby an appetite would be evoked which they had no means of satisfying, and a human being would furnish the most handy meal of the kind that he would desire.

Nanaue had been a man grown some time, when an order was promulgated by Umi, King of Hawaii, for every man dwelling in Waipio to go to koele work, tilling a large plantation for the King. There were to be certain days in an anahulu (ten days) to be set aside for this work, when every man, woman, and child had to go and render service, excepting the very old and decrepit, and children in arms.

The first day every one went but Nanaue. He kept on working in his mother’s vegetable garden to the astonishment of all who saw him. This was reported to the King, and several stalwart men were sent after him. When brought before the King he still wore his kapa kihei or mantle.

The King asked him why he was not doing koele work with every one else. Nanaue answered he did not know it was required of him. Umi could not help admiring the bold, free bearing of the handsome man, and noting his splendid physique, thought he would make a good warrior, greatly wanted in those ages, and more especially in the reign of Umi, and simply ordered him to go to work.

Nanaue obeyed, and took his place in the field with the others, and proved himself a good worker, but still kept on his kihei, which it would be natural to suppose that he would lay aside as an incumbrance when engaged in hard labor. At last some of the more venturesome of the younger folks managed to tear his kapa off, as if accidentally, when the shark-mouth on his back was seen by all the people near.

Nanaue was so enraged at the displacement of his kapa and his consequent exposure, that he turned and bit several of the crowd, while the shark-mouth opened and shut with a snap, and a clicking sound was heard such as a shark is supposed to make when baulked by its prey.

The news of the shark-mouth and his characteristic shark-like actions were quickly reported to the King, with the fact of the disappearance of so many people in the vicinity of the pools frequented by Nanaue; and of his pretended warnings to people going to the sea, which were immediately followed by a shark bite or by their being eaten bodily, with every one’s surmise and belief that this man was at the bottom of all those disappearances. The King believed it was even so, and ordered a large fire to be lighted, and Nanaue to be thrown in to be burnt alive.

When Nanaue saw what was before him, he called on the shark god, his father, to help him; then, seeming to be endowed with superhuman strength in answer to his prayer, he burst the ropes with which he had been bound in preparation for the burning, and breaking through the throng of Umi’s warriors, who attempted to detain him, he ran, followed by the whole multitude, toward the pool that emptied into the sea. When he got to the edge of the rocks bordering the pool, he waited till the foremost persons were within arm’s length, when he leaped into the water and immediately turned into a large shark on the surface of the water, in plain view of the people who had arrived, and whose numbers were being continually augmented by more and more arrivals.

He lay on the surface some little time, as if to recover his breath, and then turned over on his back, and raising his head partly out of the water, snapped his teeth at the crowd who, by this time, completely lined the banks, and then, as if in derision or defiance of them, turned and flirted his tail at them and swam out to sea.

The people and chiefs were for killing his mother and relatives for having brought up such a monster. Kalei and her brothers were seized, bound, and dragged before Umi, while the people clamored for their immediate execution, or as some suggested, that they be thrown into the fire lighted for Nanaue.

But Umi was a wise king and would not consent to any such summary proceedings, but questioned Kalei in regard to her fearful offspring. The grieved and frightened mother told everything in connection with the paternity and bringing up of the child, and with the warning given by the dread sea-father.

Umi considered that the great sea god Kamohoalii was on the whole a beneficent as well as a powerful one. Should the relatives and mother of that shark god’s son be killed, there would then be no possible means of checking the ravages of that son, who might linger around the coast and creeks of the island, taking on human shape at will, for the purpose of travelling inland to any place he liked, and then reassume his fish form and lie in wait in the many deep pools formed by the streams and springs.

Umi, therefore, ordered Kalei and her relatives to be set at liberty, while the priests and shark kahunas were requested to make offerings and invocations to Kamohoalii that his spirit might take possession of one of his hakas (mediums devoted to his cult), and so express to humanity his desires in regard to his bad son, who had presumed to eat human beings, a practice well known to be contrary to Kamohoalii’s design.

This was done, whereupon the shark god manifested himself through a haka, and expressed his grief at the action of his wayward son. He told them that the grandfather was to blame for feeding him on animal flesh contrary to his orders, and if it were not for that extenuating circumstance, he would order his son to be killed by his own shark officers; but as it was, he would require of him that he should disappear forever from the shores of Hawaii. Should Nanaue disregard that order and be seen by any of his father’s shark soldiers, he was to be instantly killed.

Then the shark god, who it seems retained an affection for his human wife, exacted a promise that she and her relatives were to be forever free from any persecutions on account of her unnatural son, on pain of the return and freedom from the taboo of that son.

Accordingly Nanaue left the island of Hawaii, crossed over to Maui, and landing at Kipahulu, resumed his human shape and went inland. He was seen by the people, and when questioned, told them he was a traveller from Hawaii, who had landed at Hana and was going around sightseeing. He was so good looking, pleasant, and beguiling in his conversation that people generally liked him. He was taken as aikane by one of the petty chiefs of the place, who gave his own sister for wife to Nanaue. The latter made a stipulation that his sleeping house should be separated from that of his wife, on account of a pretended vow, but really in order that his peculiar second mouth might escape detection.

For a while the charms of the pretty girl who had become his wife seem to have been sufficient to prevent him from trying to eat human beings, but after a while, when the novelty of his position as a husband had worn off, and the desire for human flesh had again become very strong, he resumed the old practice for which he had been driven away from Hawaii.

He was eventually detected in the very act of pushing a girl into the sea, jumping in after her, then turning into a shark, and commencing to devour her, to the horror of some people who were fishing with hook and rod from some rocks where he had not observed them. These people raised the alarm, and Nanaue seeing that he was discovered, left for Molokai where he was not known.

He took up his residence on Molokai at Poniuohua, adjoining the ahupuaa of Kainalu, and it was not very long before he was at his old practice of observing and accosting people, giving them his peculiar warning, following them to the sea in his human shape, then seizing one of them as a shark and pulling the unfortunate one to the bottom, where he would devour his victim. In the excitement of such an occurrence, people would fail to notice his absence until he would reappear at some distant point far away from the throng, as if engaged in shrimping or crabbing.

This went on for some time, till the frightened and harassed people in desperation went to consult a shark kahuna, as the ravages of the man-eating shark had put a practical taboo on all kinds of fishing. It was not safe to be anywhere near the sea, even in the shallowest water.

The kahuna told them to lie in wait for Nanaue, and the next time he prophesied that a person would be eaten head and tail, to have some strong men seize him and pull off his kapa mantle, when a shark mouth would be found on his back. This was done, and the mouth seen, but the shark-man was so strong when they seized him and attempted to bind him, that he broke away from them several times. He was finally overpowered near the seashore and tightly bound. All the people then turned their attention to gathering brush and firewood to burn him, for it was well known that it is only by being totally consumed by fire that a man-shark can be thoroughly destroyed, and prevented from taking possession of the body of some harmless fish shark, who would then be incited to do all the pernicious acts of a man-shark.

While he lay there on the low sandy beach, the tide was coming in, and as most of the people were returning with fagots and brush, Nanaue made a supreme effort and rolled over so that his feet touched the water, when he was enabled at once to change into a monster shark. Those who were near him saw it, but were not disposed to let him off so easily, and they ran several rows of netting makai, the water being very shallow for quite a distance out. The shark’s flippers were all bound by the ropes with which the man Nanaue had been bound, and this with the shallowness of the water prevented him from exerting his great strength to advantage. He did succeed in struggling to the breakers, though momentarily growing weaker from loss of blood, as the people were striking at him with clubs, spears, stone adzes and anything that would hurt or wound, so as to prevent his escape.

With all that, he would have got clear, if the people had not called to their aid the demigod Unauna, who lived in the mountains of upper Kainalu. It was then a case of Akua vs. Akua, but Unauna was only a young demigod, and not supposed to have acquired his full strength and supernatural powers, while Nanaue was a full-grown man and shark. If it had not been for the latter’s being hampered by the cords with which he was bound, the nets in his way, as well as the loss of blood, it is fully believed that he would have got the better of the young local presiding deity; but he was finally conquered and hauled up on the hill slopes of Kainalu to be burnt.

The shallow ravine left by the passage of his immense body over the light yielding soil of the Kainalu Hill slope can be seen to this day, as also a ring or deep groove completely around the top of a tall insulated rock very near the top of Kainalu Hill, around which Unauna had thrown the rope, to assist him in hauling the big shark uphill. The place was ever afterwards called Puumano (Shark Hill), and is so known to this day.

Nanaue was so large, that in the attempt to burn him, the blood and water oozing out of his burning body put out the fire several times. Not to be outwitted in that way by the shark son of Kamohoalii, Unauna ordered the people to cut and bring for the purpose of splitting into knives, bamboos from the sacred grove of Kainalu. The shark flesh was then cut into strips, partly dried, and then burnt, but the whole bamboo grove had to be used before the big shark was all cut. The god Mohoalii (another form of the name of the god Kamohoalii), father of Unauna, was so angered by the desecration of the grove, or more likely on account of the use to which it was put, that he took away all the edge and sharpness from the bamboos of this grove forever, and to this day they are different from the bamboos of any other place or grove on the islands, in this particular, that a piece of them cannot cut any more than any piece of common wood.


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Pele and Kahawali

During King Kealiikukii’s reign in Hawaii, Kahawali, a chief of Puna, engaged in sledding, attracting the goddess Pele, disguised as a woman. After a failed challenge, Pele revealed her wrath with earthquakes and lava, chasing Kahawali as he fled. Despite devastating losses, including his family and spectators, Kahawali escaped by canoe to Maui, eventually settling on Oahu with his family, recounting his perilous encounter with the fiery goddess.

Source
Hawaiian Folk Tales
a collection of native legends
compiled by Thos. G. Thrum
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1907


► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: The narrative features Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes, who interacts directly with the mortal chief Kahawali.

Conflict with Nature: Pele’s pursuit manifests through natural disasters like earthquakes and lava flows, representing a direct struggle between humans and the forces of nature.

Trials and Tribulations: Kahawali faces numerous challenges, including fleeing from Pele’s wrath and the destruction of his community.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians


From Ellis’s “Tour of Hawaii”

In the reign of Kealiikukii, an ancient king of Hawaii, Kahawali, chief of Puna, and one of his favorite companions went one day to amuse themselves with the holua (sled), on the sloping side of a hill, which is still called ka holua ana o Kahawali (Kahawali’s sliding-place). Vast numbers of the people gathered at the bottom of the hill to witness the game, and a company of musicians and dancers repaired thither to add to the amusement of the spectators. The performers began their dance, and amidst the sound of drums and the songs of the musicians the sledding of Kahawali and his companion commenced. The hilarity of the occasion attracted the attention of Pele, the goddess of the volcano, who came down from Kilauea to witness the sport.

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Standing on the summit of the hill in the form of a woman, she challenged Kahawali to slide with her. He accepted the offer, and they set off together down the hill. Pele, less acquainted with the art of balancing herself on the narrow sled than her rival, was beaten, and Kahawali was applauded by the spectators as he returned up the side of the hill.

Before starting again, Pele asked him to give her his papa holua, but he, supposing from her appearance that she was no more than a native woman, said: “Aole! (no!) Are you my wife, that you should obtain my sled?” And, as if impatient at being delayed, he adjusted his papa, ran a few yards to take a spring, and then, with this momentum and all his strength he threw himself upon it and shot down the hill. Pele, incensed at his answer, stamped her foot on the ground and an earthquake followed, which rent the hill in sunder. She called, and fire and liquid lava arose, and, assuming her supernatural form, with these irresistible ministers of vengeance, she followed down the hill. When Kahawali reached the bottom, he arose, and on looking behind saw Pele, accompanied by thunder and lightning, earthquake, and streams of burning lava, closely pursuing him. He took up his broad spear which he had stuck in the ground at the beginning of the game, and, accompanied by his friend, fled for his life. The musicians, dancers, and crowds of spectators were instantly overwhelmed by the fiery torrent, which, bearing on its foremost wave the enraged goddess, continued to pursue Kahawali and his companion. They ran till they came to an eminence called Puukea. Here Kahawali threw off his cloak of netted ki leaves and proceeded toward his house, which stood near the shore. He met his favorite pig and saluted it by touching noses, then ran to the house of his mother, who lived at Kukii, saluted her by touching noses, and said: “Aloha ino oe, eia ihonei paha oe e make ai, ke ai mainei Pele.” (Compassion great to you! Close here, perhaps, is your death; Pele comes devouring.) Leaving her, he met his wife, Kanakawahine, and saluted her. The burning torrent approached, and she said: “Stay with me here, and let us die together.” He said: “No; I go, I go.” He then saluted his two children, Poupoulu and Kaohe, and said, “Ke ue nei au ia olua.” (I grieve for you two.) The lava rolled near, and he ran till a deep chasm arrested his progress. He laid down his spear and walked over on it in safety. His friend called out for his help; he held out his spear over the chasm; his companion took hold of it and he drew him securely over. By this time Pele was coming down the chasm with accelerated motion. He ran till he reached Kula. Here he met his sister, Koai, but had only time to say, “Aloha oe!” (Alas for you!) and then ran on to the shore. His younger brother had just landed from his fishing-canoe, and had hastened to his house to provide for the safety of his family, when Kahawali arrived. He and his friend leaped into the canoe, and with his broad spear paddled out to sea. Pele, perceiving his escape, ran to the shore and hurled after him, with prodigious force, great stones and fragments of rock, which fell thickly around but did not strike his canoe. When he had paddled a short distance from the shore the kumukahi (east wind) sprung up. He fixed his broad spear upright in the canoe, that it might answer the double purpose of mast and sail, and by its aid he soon reached the island of Maui, where they rested one night and then proceeded to Lanai. The day following they moved on to Molokai, thence to Oahu, the abode of Kolonohailaau, his father, and Kanewahinekeaho, his sister, to whom he related his disastrous perils, and with whom he took up his permanent abode.


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Exploits of Maui: Snaring the Sun

Maui, son of Hina, sought to ease his mother’s burden of drying kapas by slowing the Sun’s swift journey across the sky. Observing its path, he crafted a strong cord from coconut fiber and snared the Sun atop Haleakala, breaking its strong rays. The Sun, agreeing to slow down, lengthened the days. Maui later punished a taunter, Moemoe, who became a rock by Lahaina.

Source
Hawaiian Folk Tales
a collection of native legends
compiled by Thos. G. Thrum
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1907


► Themes of the story

Conflict with Nature: Maui confronts the natural order by attempting to slow the Sun’s rapid movement across the sky.

Cosmic Order and Chaos: By altering the Sun’s course, Maui impacts the balance of day and night, influencing the natural rhythm of the world.

Cultural Heroes: Maui’s actions to aid his mother and community elevate him to the status of a cultural hero in Hawaiian mythology.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians


by Rev. A.O. Forbes

Maui was the son of Hina-lau-ae and Hina, and they dwelt at a place called Makalia, above Kahakuloa, on West Maui. Now, his mother Hina made kapas. And as she spread them out to dry, the days were so short that she was put to great trouble and labor in hanging them out and taking them in day after day until they were dry. Maui, seeing this, was filled with pity for her, for the days were so short that, no sooner had she got her kapas all spread out to dry, than the Sun went down, and she had to take them in again. So he determined to make the Sun go slower. He first went to Wailohi, in Hamakua, on East Maui, to observe the motions of the Sun. There he saw that it rose toward Hana.

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He then went up on Haleakala, and saw that the Sun in its course came directly over that mountain. He then went home again, and after a few days went to a place called Paeloko, at Waihee. There he cut down all the cocoanut-trees, and gathered the fibre of the cocoanut husks in great quantity. This he manufactured into strong cord. One Moemoe, seeing this, said tauntingly to him: “Thou wilt never catch the Sun. Thou art an idle nobody.”

Maui answered: “When I conquer my enemy, and my desire is attained, I will be your death.” So he went up Haleakala again, taking his cord with him. And when the Sun arose above where he was stationed, he prepared a noose of the cord and, casting it, snared one of the Sun’s larger beams and broke it off. And thus he snared and broke off, one after another, all the strong rays of the Sun.

Then shouted he exultingly: “Thou art my captive, and now I will kill thee for thy going so swiftly.”

And the Sun said: “Let me live, and thou shalt see me go more slowly hereafter. Behold, hast thou not broken off all my strong legs, and left me only the weak ones?”

So the agreement was made, and Maui permitted the Sun to pursue its course, and from that time on it went more slowly; and that is the reason why the days are longer at one season of the year than at another. It was this that gave the name to that mountain, which should properly be called Alehe-ka-la (sun snarer), and not Haleakala. When Maui returned from this exploit, he went to find Moemoe, who had reviled him. But that individual was not at home. He went on in his pursuit till he came upon him at a place called Kawaiopilopilo, on the shore to the eastward of the black rock called Kekaa, north of Lahaina. Moemoe dodged him up hill and down, until at last Maui, growing wroth, leaped upon and slew the fugitive. And the dead body was transformed into a long rock, which is there to this day, by the side of the road.


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Elephant and Tortoise

Elephant and Rain dispute their importance, leading to Rain leaving. With water scarce, Elephant assigns Tortoise to guard the last lagoon. Various animals ask for water, but Tortoise refuses, citing Elephant’s ownership. Lion forces Tortoise and drinks, enabling all animals to drink. Elephant returns, swallows Tortoise in anger, but Tortoise destroys his organs from within, killing Elephant and emerging unharmed.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910


► Themes of the story

Conflict with Nature: The initial dispute between Elephant and Rain highlights the tension between living beings and natural forces, emphasizing the dependence of creatures on environmental elements.

Sacrifice: Tortoise risks his own life by allowing himself to be swallowed by Elephant, a self-endangering act that ultimately leads to the liberation of water resources for all animals.

Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts lessons on the importance of resource sharing and the perils of hoarding essential commodities, illustrating that communal well-being surpasses individual ownership.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen


Two powers, Elephant and Rain, had a dispute. Elephant said, “If you say that you nourish me, in what way is it that you say so?” Rain answered, “If you say that I do not nourish you, when I go away, will you not die?” And Rain then departed.

Elephant said, “Vulture! cast lots to make rain for me.” Vulture said, “I will not cast lots.” Then Elephant said to Crow, “Cast lots!” who answered, “Give the things with which I may cast lots.” Crow cast lots and rain fell. It rained at the lagoons, but they dried up, and only one lagoon remained.

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Elephant went a-hunting. There was, however, Tortoise, to whom Elephant said, “Tortoise, remain at the water!” Thus Tortoise was left behind when Elephant went a-hunting.

There came Giraffe, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Zebra, who said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Gemsbok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Wildebeest, and said, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Roodebok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise answered, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Springbok, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Jackal, and said to Tortoise, “Give me water!” Tortoise said, “The water belongs to Elephant.”

There came Lion, and said, “Little Tortoise, give me water!” When little Tortoise was about to say something, Lion got hold of him and beat him; Lion drank of the water, and since then the animals drink water.

When Elephant came back from the hunting, he said, “Little Tortoise, is there water?” Tortoise answered, “The animals have drunk the water.” Elephant asked, “Little Tortoise, shall I chew you or swallow you down?” Little Tortoise said, “Swallow me, if you please!” and Elephant swallowed him whole.

After Elephant had swallowed Little Tortoise, and he had entered his body, he tore off his liver, heart, and kidneys. Elephant said, “Little Tortoise, you kill me.”

So Elephant died; but little Tortoise came out of his dead body, and went wherever he liked.

Another version

Giraffe and Tortoise, they say, met one day. Giraffe said to Tortoise, “At once I could trample you to death.” Tortoise, being afraid, remained silent. Then Giraffe said, “At once I could swallow you.” Tortoise said, in answer to this, “Well, I just belong to the family of those whom it has always been customary to swallow.” Then Giraffe swallowed Tortoise; but when the latter was being gulped down, he stuck in Giraffe’s throat, and as the latter could not get it down, he was choked to death.

When Giraffe was dead, Tortoise crawled out and went to Crab (who is considered as the mother of Tortoise), and told her what had happened. Then Crab said:

“The little Crab! I could sprinkle it under its arm with Boochoo,
[in token of approval, according to a Hottentot custom]
The crooked-legged little one, I could sprinkle under its arm.”

Tortoise answered its mother and said:

“Have you not always sprinkled me,
That you want to sprinkle me now?”

Then they went and fed for a whole year on the remains of Giraffe.


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The White Man and Snake

A White Man saves a trapped Snake under a stone, but Snake tries to bite him in return. Seeking justice, they consult Hyena, who sides with Snake, and Jackal, who demands proof. Recreating the scene, Jackal ensures Snake is re-trapped under the stone, advising the White Man not to help again, teaching a lesson about gratitude and consequences.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910


► Themes of the story

Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts a lesson about the consequences of helping others without discernment, highlighting the potential ingratitude and danger that may follow.

Trickster: The Jackal serves as the trickster figure, using intelligence and cunning to achieve a favorable outcome.

Conflict with Nature: The story depicts a direct conflict between man and a natural creature, emphasizing the unpredictable and sometimes perilous interactions between humans and animals.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen


A white man, it is said, met Snake upon whom a large stone had fallen and covered her so that she could not rise. The White Man lifted the stone off Snake, but when he had done so, she wanted to bite him. The White Man said, “Stop! let us both go first to some wise people.” They went to Hyena, and the White Man asked him, “Is it right that Snake should want to bite me, when I helped her as she lay under a stone and could not rise?” Hyena (who thought he would get his share of the White Man’s body) said, “If you were bitten what would it matter?”

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Then Snake wanted to bite him, but the White Man said again, “Wait a little, and let us go to other wise people, that I may hear whether this is right.”

They went and met Jackal. The White Man said to Jackal, “Is it right for Snake to want to bite me, when I lifted up the stone which lay upon her?”

Jackal replied, “I do not believe that Snake could be covered by a stone so she could not rise. Unless I saw it with my two eyes, I would not believe it. Therefore, come let us go and see the place where you say it happened whether it can be true.”

They went, and arrived at the place where it had happened. Jackal said, “Snake, lie down, and let thyself be covered.”

Snake did so, and the White Man covered her with the stone; but although she exerted herself very much, she could not rise. Then the White Man wanted again to release Snake, but Jackal interfered, and said, “Do not lift the stone. She wanted to bite you, therefore she may rise by herself.”

Then they both went away and left Snake under the stone.

Another version

A Dutchman was walking by himself and saw Snake lying under a large stone. Snake implored his help; but when she had become free she said, “Now I shall eat you.”

The Man answered, “That is not right. Let us first go to Hare.”

When Hare had heard the affair, he said, “It is right.”

“No,” said the Man, “let us ask Hyena.”

Hyena declared the same, saying, “It is right.”

“Now let us ask Jackal,” said the Man in his despair.

Jackal answered very slowly and considerately, doubting the whole affair, and demanding to see first the place, and whether the Man was able to lift the stone. Snake lay down, and the Man, to prove the truth of his account, put the stone again over her.

When she was fast, Jackal said, “Now let her lie there.”


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The Tiger, the Ram, and the Jackal

Tiger, encountering Ram for the first time, is terrified by his gruff demeanor and retreats. Jackal mocks Tiger’s cowardice and convinces him to confront Ram together. However, Ram cleverly outwits them by pretending to see Tiger as prey for his “hungry child.” Terrified, Tiger flees, dragging Jackal along. The pair return home battered and humiliated, while Ram escapes unharmed.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910


► Themes of the story

Trickster: The Jackal embodies the trickster archetype, attempting to deceive the Ram and manipulate the Tiger for his own benefit.

Moral Lessons: The tale imparts a lesson about the consequences of underestimating others and the potential downfall of deceitful behavior.

Conflict with Nature: The interactions between the animals highlight the challenges and confrontations that arise within the natural world.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen


Tiger (leopard) was returning home from hunting on one occasion, when he lighted on the kraal of Ram. Now, Tiger had never seen Ram before, and approaching submissively, he said, “Good day, friend! What may your name be?”

The other in his gruff voice, and striking his breast with his forefoot, said, “I am Ram. Who are you?”

“Tiger,” answered the other, more dead than alive, and then, taking leave of Ram, he ran home as fast as he could.

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Jackal lived at the same place as Tiger did, and the latter going to him, said, “Friend Jackal, I am quite out of breath, and am half dead with fright, for I have just seen a terrible looking fellow, with a large and thick head, and on my asking him what his name was, he answered, ‘I am Ram.'”

“What a foolish fellow you are,” cried Jackal, “to let such a nice piece of flesh stand! Why did you do so? But we shall go to-morrow and eat it together.”

Next day the two set off for the kraal of Ram, and as they appeared over a hill, Ram, who had turned out to look about him, and was calculating where he should that day crop a tender salad, saw them, and he immediately went to his wife and said, “I fear this is our last day, for Jackal and Tiger are both coming against us. What shall we do?”

“Don’t be afraid,” said the wife, “but take up the child in your arms, go out with it, and pinch it to make it cry as if it were hungry.” Ram did so as the confederates came on.

No sooner did Tiger cast his eyes on Ram than fear again took possession of him, and he wished to turn back. Jackal had provided against this, and made Tiger fast to himself with a leathern thong, and said, “Come on,” when Ram cried in a loud voice, and pinching his child at the same time, “You have done well, Friend Jackal, to have brought us Tiger to eat, for you hear how my child is crying for food.” On these dreadful words Tiger, notwithstanding the entreaties of Jackal to let him go, to let him loose, set off in the greatest alarm, dragged Jackal after him over hill and valley, through bushes and over rocks, and never stopped to look behind him till he brought back himself and half-dead Jackal to his place again. And so Ram escaped.


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The Lost Message

The ants, plagued by predators like birds, anteaters, and centipedes, sought unity to protect themselves but failed due to discord among their factions. Each group pursued its own solution—building homes, living underground, fleeing to trees, or attempting flight—yet all strategies faltered against their enemies. Despite the Insect-king’s message of unity sent via the slow Beetle, the ants remain divided and vulnerable.

Source
South-African Folk Tales
by James A. Honey, M.D.
New York,1910


► Themes of the story

Conflict with Nature: The ants face constant threats from natural predators like birds, anteaters, and centipedes.

Community and Isolation: Despite their communal nature, the ants’ inability to unify leads to their continued vulnerability.

Moral Lessons: The tale imparts the lesson that unity and cooperation are essential for overcoming common challenges.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen


The ant has had from time immemorial many enemies, and because he is small and destructive, there have been a great many slaughters among them. Not only were most of the birds their enemies, but Anteater lived almost wholly from them, and Centipede beset them every time and at all places when he had the chance.

So now there were a few among them who thought it would be well to hold council together and see if they could not come to some arrangement whereby they could retreat to some place of safety when attacked by robber birds and animals.

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But at the gathering their opinions were most discordant, and they could come to no decision.

There was Red-ant, Rice-ant, Black-ant, Wagtail-ant, Gray-ant, Shining-ant, and many other varieties. The discussion was a true babel of diversity, which continued for a long time and came to nothing.

A part desired that they should all go into a small hole in the ground, and live there; another part wanted to have a large and strong dwelling built on the ground, where nobody could enter but an ant; still another wanted to dwell in trees, so as to get rid of Anteater, forgetting entirely that there they would be the prey of birds; another part seemed inclined to have wings and fly.

And, as has already been said, this deliberation amounted to nothing, and each party resolved to go to work in its own way, and on its own responsibility.

Greater unity than that which existed in each separate faction could be seen nowhere in the world; each had his appointed task, each did his work regularly and well. And all worked together in the same way. From among them they chose a king–that is to say some of the groups did–and they divided the labor so that all went as smoothly as it possibly could.

But each group did it in its own way, and not one of them thought of protecting themselves against the onslaught of birds or Anteater.

The Red-ants built their house on the ground and lived under it, but Anteater leveled to the ground in a minute what had cost them many days of precious labor. The Rice-ants lived under the ground, and with them it went no better. For whenever they came out, Anteater visited them and took them out sack and pack. The Wagtail-ants fled to the trees, but there on many occasions sat Centipede waiting for them, or the birds gobbled them up. The Gray-ants had intended to save themselves from extermination by taking to flight, but this also availed them nothing, because the Lizard, the Hunting-spider, and the birds went a great deal faster than they.

When the Insect-king heard that they could come to no agreement he sent them the secret of unity, and the message of Work-together. But unfortunately he chose for his messenger the Beetle, and he has never yet arrived at the Ants, so that they are still to-day the embodiment of discord and consequently the prey of enemies.


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Mooregoo the Mopoke, and Bahloo the Moon

Mooregoo the Mopoke, proud of his handmade weapons and opossum rugs, refused to lend or give any to Bahloo, the moon, who sought shelter on a cold night. Bahloo built his own shelter, and a relentless rain flooded the land. Mooregoo drowned, his creations scattered or ruined. The tale warns against selfishness and the consequences of hoarding one’s creations.

Source
Australian Legendary Tales
collected by Mrs. K. Langloh Parker
London & Melbourne, 1896


► Themes of the story

Divine Intervention: Bahloo, representing the moon, influences mortal affairs by causing a flood.

Conflict with Nature: Mooregoo faces the devastating force of a relentless flood.

Moral Lessons: The narrative warns against selfishness and the consequences of hoarding one’s creations.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians


Mooregoo the Mopoke had been camped away by himself for a long time. While alone he had made a great number of boomerangs, nullah-nullahs, spears, neilahmans, and opossum rugs. Well had he carved the weapons with the teeth of opossums, and brightly had he painted the inside of the rugs with coloured designs, and strongly had he sewn them with the sinews of opossums, threaded in the needle made of the little bone taken from the leg of an emu. As Mooregoo looked at his work he was proud of all he had done.

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One night Babloo the moon came to his camp, and said: “Lend me one of your opossum rugs.”

“No. I lend not my rugs.”

“Then give me one.”

“No. I give not my rugs.”

Looking round, Bahloo saw the beautifully carved weapons, so he said, “Then give me, Mooregoo, some of your weapons.”

“No, I give, never, what I have made, to another.”

Again Bahloo said, “The night is cold. Lend me a rug.”

“I have spoken,” said Mooregoo. “I never lend my rugs.”

Barloo said no more, but went away, cut some bark and made a dardurr for himself. When it was finished and he safely housed in it, down came the rain in torrents. And it rained without ceasing until the whole country was flooded. Mooregoo was drowned. His weapons floated about and drifted apart, and his rugs rotted in the water.


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