The Punahou Spring

In the Kaala Mountains lived Kahaakea and his twins, Kauawaahila and Kauakiowao, who suffered under their jealous stepmother Hawea. Protected by their late mother’s spirit, the twins fled persecution, surviving on wild food and creating Punahou Spring with help from their ancestor, a water god. Eventually, their father avenged them. The story ties Hawaiian legends to the natural features of Punahou and its surroundings.

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


► Themes of the story

Family Dynamics: The narrative delves into the complex relationships within a family, highlighting the twins’ suffering under their jealous stepmother and their bond with their late mother’s protective spirit.

Trials and Tribulations: The twins face numerous challenges, including persecution, deprivation, and displacement, testing their resilience and determination.

Loss and Renewal: The twins experience loss through their mother’s death and their hardships but find renewal in their survival, the creation of the spring, and their father’s eventual return and retribution.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians


by Mrs. E.M. Nakuina

There formerly lived on the Kaala Mountains a chief called Kahaakea. He had two children, boy and girl, twins, whose mother had died at their birth. The brother was Kauawaahila (Waahila Rain), and the girl Kauakiowao (Mountain Mist). Kahaakea was very tenderly attached to his motherless children, and after a while took to himself a wife, thinking thus to provide his children with a mother’s care and love. This wife was called Hawea and had a boy by her former husband. This boy was deformed and ugly, while the twins were very beautiful. The stepmother was jealous of their beauty, and resented the universal admiration expressed for them, while no one noticed her boy except with looks of aversion.

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She was very considerate toward the twins when their father was present, but hated and detested them most violently. When they were about ten years old their father had occasion to go to Hawaii, and had to remain away a long time. He felt perfectly safe in leaving his children with his wife, as she had always feigned great love for them, and had successfully concealed from him her real feelings in regard to them. But as soon as he was fairly away she commenced a series of petty persecutions of the poor children.

It seems the mother of the children had been “uhae ia” at her death. That is, certain prayers, invocations, fasting, and humiliation had been performed by certain relatives of the deceased, and quantities of prepared awa, black, unblemished pig, red fish, and all the customary food of the gods, had been prepared and offered with the object of strengthening the spirit of the departed and of attracting it strongly, as well as giving it a sort of power and control over mundane affairs and events. So when Hawea began to persecute her stepchildren, the spirit of their own mother would assist and protect them.

The persecutions of the stepmother at last became unendurable to the twins. She not only deprived them of food, clothing, and water, but subjected them besides to all sorts of indignities and humiliations. Driven to desperation, they fled to Konahuanui, the mountain peak above the Pali of Nuuanu; but were soon discovered and driven away from there by the cruel Hawea. They then went to the head of Manoa Valley. The stepmother was not at all pleased at their getting out of the way of her daily persecutions, and searched for them everywhere. She finally tracked them by the constant appearance of rainbows at the head of Manoa Valley, those unfailing attendants of rain and mist. The children were again driven away and told to return to Kaala, where they would be constantly under her eye; but they ran and hid themselves in a small cave on the side of the hill of Kukaoo, whose top is crowned by the temple of the Menehunes. Here they lived some time and cultivated a patch of sweet potatoes, their food at this time being grasshoppers and greens. The greens were the leaves and the tender shoots of the popolo, aheahea, pakai, laulele and potato vines, cooked by rolling hot stones around and among them in a covered gourd. This is called the puholoholo.

When their potato tubers were fit to be eaten, the brother (Waahila Rain) made a double imu (oven), having a kapu, or sacred side, for his food and a noa, or free side, for his sister. The little cave that was their dwelling was also divided in two, a sacred and a free part, respectively, for brother and sister. The cave can still be seen, and the wall of stone dividing it in two was still intact a few years ago, as also was the double imu. In olden times it was tabooed to females to appear at any eating-place of the males.

When their crops were fairly ripe, the stepmother found them again, and drove them away from their cave, she appropriating the fruit of their labors. The children fled to the rocky hills just back of Punahou, where they found two small caves, which the brother and sister occupied, respectively, as dwellings. The rolling plains and small ravines of the surrounding country, and of what was later known as the Punahou pasture, were not then covered with manienie grass, but with the indigenous shrubs and bushes, tall limas, aheaheas, popolo, etc., making close thickets, with here and there open spaces covered with manienie-akiaki, the valuable medicinal grass of the olden times. These shrubs and bushes either bore edible fruit or flowers, or the leaves and tender shoots made nourishing and satisfying food when cooked in the way previously described. The poor children lived on these and grasshoppers, and sometimes wild fowl.

One day the sister, Kauakiowao, told her brother that she wanted to bathe, and complained of their having taken up their residence in a place where no water could be found. Her brother hushed her complaint by telling her that it was a safe place, and one where their stepmother would not be likely to look for them, but he would try to get her some water. In his trips around the neighborhood for fruit and greens he had noticed a large rain-water pond to the east of the hill on which they dwelt. This pond was called Kanawai. Here he sometimes came to snare wild ducks. He also had met and knew the Kakea water god, a moo, who had charge of and controlled all the water sources of Manoa and Makiki Valleys. This god was one of the ancestors of the children on the mother’s side, and was on the best of terms with Waahila rain. The boy paid him a visit, and asked him to assist him to open a watercourse from the pond of Kanawai to a place he indicated in front of and below the caves inhabited by himself and his sister. The old water god not only consented to help his young relative, but promised to divide the water supply of the neighboring Wailele spring, and let it run into the watercourse that the boy would make, thus insuring its permanence.

Waahila Rain then went to the pond of Kanawai and dived under, the water god causing a passage to open underground to the spot indicated, and swam through the water underground till he came out at the place now known as the Punahou Spring. The force of the rushing waters as they burst through the ground soon sufficed to make a small basin, which the boy proceeded to bank and wall up, leaving a narrow outlet for the surplus waters. With the invisible help of the old water god, he immediately set to work to excavate a good-sized pond for his sister to swim in, and when she awoke from a noonday nap, she was astonished to behold a lovely sheet of water where, in the morning, was only dry land. Her brother was swimming and splashing about in it, and gayly called to his sister to come and try her bathing-place.

Kauawaahila afterward made some kalo patches, and people, attracted by the water and consequent fertility of the place, came and settled about, voluntarily offering themselves as vassals to the twins. More and more kalo patches were excavated, and the place became a thriving settlement. The spring became known as Ka Punahou (the new spring), and gave its name to the surrounding place.

About this time Kahaakea returned, and hearing of the persecutions to which his beloved children had been subjected, killed Hawea and then himself. Rocky Hill, the home of the children, was called after him, and is known by that name to the present day. Hawea has ever since then been a synonyme in the Hawaiian mind for a cruel stepmother.

The Mountain Mist and Waahila Rain afterward returned to the home of their infancy, Kaala, where they would stay a while, occasionally visiting Konahuanui and upper Manoa Valley, and may be met with in these places at the present day.

They also occasionally visited Punahou, which was under their especial care and protection; but when the land and spring passed into the hands of foreigners, who did not pay homage to the twins, and who allowed the springs to be defiled by the washing of unclean articles and by the bathing of unclean persons, the twins indignantly left the place, and retired to the head of Manoa Valley.

They sometimes pass swiftly over their old home on their way to Kaala, or Konahuanui, and on such occasions will sometimes linger sorrowfully for a few minutes about Rocky Hill. The rain-water pond of Kanawai is now always dry, as the shrubs and bushes which supplied the food of the twins favored of the gods have disappeared. Old natives say that there is now no inducement for the gentle rain of the Uakiowao and Uawaahila to visit those bare hills and plains, as they would find no food there.


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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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The Goose-Girl

A kind queen sends her daughter, a princess, on a journey to marry a prince, entrusting her with magical protection and a speaking horse, Falada. Betrayed by her maid, the princess is forced into servitude. Despite hardships, her virtue is revealed when the truth is overheard by the king. Justice is served, the maid punished, and the princess is united with her prince, reigning happily ever after.

Source
Folk-lore and Legends: German
Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty, at the Edinburgh University Press
W.W. Gibbings, London, 1892


► Themes of the story

Divine Intervention: The speaking horse, Falada, and the charm of the three drops of blood provide supernatural elements that influence the narrative.

Revenge and Justice: The truth is revealed, leading to the punishment of the deceitful maid and the restoration of the princess’s rightful position.

Trials and Tribulations: The princess endures hardships and challenges that test her character and resolve throughout the story.

From the lore

Learn more about German Folklore


The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of their only child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful, and her mother loved her dearly and was very kind to her. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got ready to set off on her journey to his country. The queen, her mother, packed up a great many costly things–jewels, gold and silver trinkets, fine dresses, and, in short, everything that became a royal bride. She gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her and give her into the bridegroom’s hands, and each had a horse for the journey. The princess’ horse was called Falada, and could speak.

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When the time came for them to set out, the aged mother went into the princess’s bedchamber, took a knife, and having cut her finger till it bled, let three drops of the blood fall upon a handkerchief, and gave it to the princess, saying–

“Take care of it, dear child, for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road.”

They all took a sorrowful leave of the princess, and she put the handkerchief into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her journey to her bridegroom’s kingdom.

One day as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her maid–

“Pray get down, and fetch me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to drink.”

“Nay,” said the maid, “if you are thirsty, get off yourself and stoop down by the water and drink. I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer.”

The princess got down, and knelt over the brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not bring out her cup; and she wept, and said–

“Alas! what will become of me?”

The three drops of blood answered her, and said–

“Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it, Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”

The princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her maid’s ill-behaviour, but got upon her horse again.

They all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm and the sun so scorching that the bride began to feel very thirsty again; and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid’s rude speech, and said–

“Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink in my cup.”

But the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily than before–

“Drink if you will, but I shall not be your waiting-maid.”

Then the princess got off her horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and cried and said–

“What will become of me?”

And the drops of blood answered her again as before. As the princess leaned down to drink, the handkerchief on which was the blood fell from her bosom and floated away on the water, but the princess was so frightened that she did not notice it. Her maid, however, saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the charm, and she saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she had lost the drops of blood. So when the bride had done drinking, and would have got upon Falada again, the maid said–

“I will ride upon Falada, and you may have my horse instead;” so the princess was forced to give up her horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes and put on her maid’s shabby ones.

At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told any one what had happened; but Falada saw it all, and marked it well.

Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, while the real bride rode upon the other horse, and they went on in this way until they came at last to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was the one who was to be his wife. She was led upstairs to the royal chamber, but the true princess was told to stay in the court below.

Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do, so he was amusing himself by sitting at his window looking at what was going on, and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty, and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her that was thus left standing in the court below.

“I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the road,” replied she. “Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be idle.”

The king could not for some time think of any work for her to do, but at last he said–

“I have a lad who takes care of my geese, she may go and help him.”

Now the name of this lad, whom the princess was to help in watching the king’s geese, was Conrad.

The false bride said to the prince–

“Dear husband, pray do me one piece of kindness.”

“That I will,” said the prince.

“Then tell one of your knackers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road.”

In reality she was very much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak, and tell all that she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was killed. When the true princess heard of it she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada’s head over a large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pass every morning and evening, that there she might see him sometimes. The slaughterer said he would do as she wished, and he cut off the head, and nailed it up under the dark gate.

Early the next morning, as the princess and Conrad went through the gate, she said sorrowfully–

“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”

The head answered–

“Bride, bride, there thou goest! Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it, Sadly, sadly would she rue it.”

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. When they were come to a meadow she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her waving locks of hair, which were like pure gold; and when Conrad saw it he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out, but the princess cried–

“Blow, breezes, blow! Let Conrad’s hat go! Blow, breezes, blow! Let him after it go! O’er hills, dales, and rocks, Away be it whirled, Till my golden locks Are all combed and curled.”

Then there came a wind so strong that it blew off Conrad’s hat. Away it flew over the hills, and he was forced to turn and run after it, so that when he came back she had done combing and curling her hair, and had put it up again safely, and he could not get any of it. He was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her; but they watched the geese until it grew dark, and then drove them homewards.

The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl looked up at Falada’s head, and cried–

“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”

It answered–

“Bride, bride, there thou goest! Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it, Sadly, sadly would she rue it.”

Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and began to comb out her hair as before, and Conrad ran up to her, and wanted to take hold of it. The princess repeated the words she had used the day before, when the wind came and blew away his hat, and off it flew a great way, over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it. When he returned, she had bound up her hair again, and all was safe. So they watched the geese until it grew dark.

In the evening, after they came home, Conrad went to the old king and said–

“I won’t have that strange girl to help me to keep the geese any longer.”

“Why?” said the king.

“Because instead of doing any good she does nothing but tease me all day long.”

Then the king made him tell what had happened, and Conrad said–

“When we go in the morning through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she cries and talks with the head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and the head answers her.”

And Conrad went on telling the king what had happened in the meadow where the geese fed; how his hat was blown away, and how he was forced to run after it and leave his flock of geese to themselves. The old king told the boy to go out again the next day, and when morning came he placed himself behind the dark gate, and heard how the princess spoke to Falada, and how Falada answered. Then he went into the field and hid himself in a bush by the meadow’s side, and he soon saw with his own eyes how they drove the flock of geese, and how, after a little time, she let down her hair that glittered in the sun. Then he heard her call the wind, and soon there came a gust that carried away Conrad’s hat, and away he went after it, while the girl went on combing and curling her hair. All this the old king saw; so he went home without having been observed, and when the goose-girl came back in the evening, he called her aside and asked her why she did so. She burst into tears, and said–

“That I must not tell you nor any man, or I shall lose my life.”

The old king begged hard, but she would tell him nothing. Then he said–

“If you will not tell me thy story, tell thy grief to the iron stove there,” and then he went away.

Then the princess crept into the stove, and, weeping and lamenting, she poured forth her whole heart, saying–

“I am alone in the whole world, though I am a king’s daughter. A treacherous waiting-maid has taken my place and compelled me to put off my royal dress, and even taken my place with my bridegroom, while I have to work as a goose-girl. If my mother knew it, it would break her heart.”

The old king, however, was standing by the stove, listening to what the princess said, and overheard it all. He ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and gazed at her in wonder, she was so beautiful. Then he called his son, and told him that he had only a false bride, for that she was merely the waiting-maid, while the true bride stood by. The young prince rejoiced when he saw the princess’s beauty, and heard how meek and patient she had been, and the king ordered a great feast to be got ready for all his court. The bridegroom sat at the top of the table, with the false princess on one side and the true one on the other; but the waiting-maid did not recognise the princess, for her beauty was quite dazzling.

When they had eaten and drunk, and were very merry, the old king said he would tell them a tale. So he began, and told all the story of the princess, as if it were a tale he had heard, and he asked the waiting-woman what she thought ought to be done to any one who behaved so badly as the servant in the story.

“Nothing better,” said the false bride, “than that she should be thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that two white horses should be put to it, and should drag it from street to street till she were dead.”

“Thou art she,” said the old king, “and as thou hast judged thyself, so it shall be done to thee.”

Then the young prince was married to his true wife, and they reigned over the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives.


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

Hans in Luck

Hans, after serving his master for seven years, sets off on a journey home with a large silver piece as his wage. Along the way, he makes a series of trades, each seemingly worse than the last—exchanging silver for a horse, the horse for a cow, the cow for a pig, the pig for a goose, and finally, the goose for a grindstone. Burdened by the grindstone, he accidentally loses it in a pond, feeling relieved and grateful for his “luck.” Hans happily returns home, free of all burdens.

Source
Folk-lore and Legends: German
Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty, at the Edinburgh University Press
W.W. Gibbings, London, 1892


► Themes of the story

Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts lessons on contentment and the subjective nature of value, as Hans remains happy despite trading valuable items for less valuable ones.

Cunning and Deception: The individuals Hans encounters may be seen as taking advantage of his naivety, leading to exchanges that favor them more than Hans.

Trials and Tribulations: Hans faces various challenges and mishaps during his journey, testing his resilience and adaptability.

From the lore

Learn more about German Folklore


Hans had served his master seven years, and at last said to him: “Master, my time is up; I should like to go home and see my mother, so give me my wages.” And the master said: “You have been a faithful and good servant, so your pay shall be handsome.”

Then he gave him a piece of silver that was as big as his head. Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off homewards. As he went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came in sight, trotting along gaily on a capital horse.

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“Ah!” said Hans aloud, “what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! There he sits as if he were at home in his chair. He trips against no stones, spares his shoes, and yet gets on he hardly knows how.”

The horseman heard this, and said–

“Well, Hans, why do you go on foot, then?”

“Ah!” said he, “I have this load to carry; to be sure, it is silver, but it is so heavy that I can’t hold up my head, and it hurts my shoulder sadly.”

“What do you say to changing?” said the horseman. “I will give you my horse, and you shall give me the silver.”

“With all my heart,” said Hans, “but I tell you one thing: you will have a weary task to drag it along.”

The horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him the bridle into his hand, and said–

“When you want to go very fast, you must smack your lips loud and cry, ‘Jip.'”

Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, and rode merrily on. After a time he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he smacked his lips and cried “Jip.” Away went the horse full gallop, and before Hans knew what he was about, he was thrown off, and lay in a ditch by the wayside, and his horse would have run off if a shepherd, who was coming by driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to himself, and got upon his legs again. He was sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd–

“This riding is no joke when a man gets on a beast like this, that stumbles and flings him off as if he would break his neck. However, I’m off now once for all. I like your cow a great deal better; one can walk along at one’s leisure behind her, and have milk, butter, and cheese every day into the bargain. What would I give to have such a cow!”

“Well,” said the shepherd, “if you are so fond of her I will change my cow for your horse.”

“Done!” said Hans merrily.

The shepherd jumped upon the horse and away he rode. Hans drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky one.

“If I have only a piece of bread (and I certainly shall be able to get that), I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese with it, and when I am thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk. What can I wish for more?” said he.

When he came to an inn he halted, ate up all his bread, and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow towards his mother’s village. The heat grew greater as noon came on, till at last he found himself on a wide heath that it would take him more than an hour to cross, and he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.

“I can find a cure for this,” thought he; “now will I milk my cow and quench my thirst.” So he tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap to milk into, but not a drop was to be had.

While he was trying his luck, and managing the matter very clumsily, the uneasy beast gave him a kick on the head that knocked him down, and there he lay a long while senseless. Luckily a butcher came by driving a pig in a wheelbarrow.

“What is the matter with you?” said the butcher, as he helped him up.

Hans told him what had happened, and the butcher gave him a flask, saying–

“There, drink and refresh yourself. Your cow will give you no milk; she is an old beast, good for nothing but the slaughter-house.”

“Alas, alas!” said Hans, “who would have thought it? If I kill her, what will she be good for? I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig, now, one could do something with it; it would at any rate make some sausages.”

“Well,” said the butcher, “to please you I’ll change and give you the pig for the cow.”

“Heaven reward you for your kindness!” said Hans, as he gave the butcher the cow and took the pig off the wheelbarrow and drove it off, holding it by a string tied to its leg.

So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him. He had met with some misfortunes, to be sure, but he was now well repaid for all. The next person he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose under his arm. The countryman stopped to ask what was the hour, and Hans told him all his luck, and how he had made so many good bargains. The countryman said he was going to take the goose to a christening.

“Feel,” said he, “how heavy it is, and yet it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it may cut plenty of fat off, it has lived so well.”

“You’re right,” said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; “but my pig is no trifle.”

Meantime the countryman began to look grave, and shook his head.

“Hark ye,” said he, “my good friend. Your pig may get you into a scrape. In the village I have just come from the squire has had a pig stolen out of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire’s pig. It will be a bad job if they catch you, for the least they’ll do will be to throw you into the horse-pond.”

Poor Hans was sadly frightened.

“Good man,” cried he, “pray get me out of this scrape. You know this country better than I; take my pig and give me the goose.”

“I ought to have something into the bargain,” said the countryman; “however, I’ll not bear hard upon you, as you are in trouble.”

Then he took the string in his hand and drove off the pig by a side path, while Hans went on his way homeward free from care.

“After all,” thought he, “I have the best of the bargain. First there will be a capital roast, then the fat will find me in goose-grease for six months, and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly without rocking. How happy my mother will be!”

As he came to the last village he saw a scissors-grinder, with his wheel, working away and singing–

“O’er hill and o’er dale so happy I roam, Work light and live well, all the world is my home; Who so blythe, so merry as I?”

Hans stood looking for a while, and at last said–

“You must be well off, master grinder, you seem so happy at your work.”

“Yes,” said the other, “mine is a golden trade. A good grinder never puts his hand in his pocket without finding money in it–but where did you get that beautiful goose?”

“I did not buy it, but changed a pig for it.”

“And where did you get the pig?”

“I gave a cow for it.”

“And the cow?”

“I gave a horse for it.”

“And the horse?”

“I gave a piece of silver as big as my head for that.”

“And the silver?”

“Oh! I worked hard for that seven long years.”

“You have thriven well in the world hitherto,” said the grinder, “now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you put your hand into it your fortune would be made.”

“Very true, but how is that to be managed?”

“You must turn grinder like me,” said the other. “You only want a grindstone, the rest will come of itself. Here is one that is only a little the worse for wear. I would not ask more than the value of your goose for it. Will you buy it?”

“How can you ask such a question?” said Hans. “I should be the happiest man in the world if I could have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket. What could I want more? There’s the goose.”

“Now,” said the grinder, as he gave him a common rough stone that lay by his side, “this is a most capital stone. Do but manage it cleverly and you can make an old nail cut with it.”

Hans took the stone, and went off with a light heart. His eyes sparkled with joy, and he said to himself–

“I must have been born in a lucky hour. Everything I want or wish comes to me of itself.”

Meantime he began to be tired, for he had been travelling ever since daybreak. He was hungry too, for he had given away his last penny in his joy at getting the cow. At last he could go no further, and the stone tired him terribly, so he dragged himself to the side of the pond that he might drink some water and rest a while. He laid the stone carefully by his side on the bank, but as he stooped down to drink he forgot it, pushed it a little, and down it went, plump into the pond. For a while he watched it sinking in the deep, clear water, then, sprang up for joy, and again fell upon his knees and thanked Heaven with tears in his eyes for its kindness in taking away his only plague, the ugly, heavy stone.

“How happy am I!” cried he; “no mortal was ever so lucky as I am.”

Then he got up with a light and merry heart, and walked on, free from all his troubles, till he reached his mother’s house.


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The Story of Hare

In a tale of wit and consequence, animals appoint guards to protect communal fat from the cunning inkalimeva, a mythical creature. Each guard fails, tricked or overpowered, until the clever hare outsmarts and kills the inkalimeva. Despite his success, the hare’s greed for the creature’s tail leads to conflict with the other animals, forcing him to flee and embark on mischievous adventures.

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


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The narrative highlights the use of cleverness and deceit, both by the inkalimeva in deceiving the initial guards and by the hare in ultimately defeating it.

Moral Lessons: The story imparts lessons about vigilance, the consequences of greed, and the importance of communal responsibility.

Trials and Tribulations: The animals face a series of challenges in protecting their resources, culminating in the hare’s successful yet morally complex resolution.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen


Once upon a time the animals made a kraal and put some fat in it. They agreed that one of their number should remain to be the keeper of the gate. The first one that was appointed was the coney (imbila). He agreed to take charge, and all the others went away. In a short time the coney fell asleep, when the inkalimeva (a fabulous animal) went in and ate all the fat. After doing this, he threw a little stone at the coney. The coney started up and cried out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

► Continue reading…

It repeated this cry several times, calling out very loudly. The animals at a distance heard it, they ran to the kraal, and when they saw that the fat was gone they killed the coney.

They put fat in the kraal a second time, and appointed the muishond (ingaga) to keep the gate. The muishond consented, and the animals went away as before. After a little time the inkalimeva came to the kraal, bringing some honey with it. It invited the keeper of the gate to eat honey, and while the muishond was enjoying himself the inkalimeva went in and stole all the fat. It threw a stone at the muishond, which caused him to look up.

The muishond cried out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

As soon as the animals heard the cry, they ran to the kraal and killed the muishond.

They put fat in the kraal a third time, and appointed the duiker (impunzi) to be the keeper of the gate. The duiker agreed, and the others went away. In a short time the inkalimeva made its appearance. It proposed to the duiker that they should play hide and look for. The duiker agreed to this. Then the inkalimeva hid itself, and the duiker looked for it till he was so tired that he lay down and went to sleep. When the duiker was asleep, the inkalimeva ate up all the fat.

Then it threw a stone at the duiker, which caused him to jump up and cry out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

The animals, when they heard the cry, ran to the kraal and killed the duiker.

They put fat in the kraal the fourth time, and appointed the bluebuck (inputi) to be the keeper of the gate. When the animals went away, the inkalimeva came as before.

It said: “What are you doing by yourself?”

The bluebuck answered: “I am watching the fat belonging to all the animals.”

The inkalimeva said: “I will be your companion. Come, let us scratch each other’s heads.”

The bluebuck agreed to this. The inkalimeva sat down and scratched the head of the other till he went to sleep. Then it arose and ate all the fat. When it had finished, it threw a stone at the bluebuck and awakened him.

The bluebuck saw what had happened and cried out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

Then the animals ran up and killed the bluebuck also.

They put fat in the kraal the fifth time, and appointed the porcupine (incanda) to be the keeper of the gate. The animals went away, and the inkalimeva came as before.

It said to the porcupine, “Let us run a race against each other.”

It let the porcupine beat in this race.

Then it said, “I did not think you could run so fast, but let us try again.” They ran again, and it allowed the porcupine to beat the second time. They ran till the porcupine was so tired that he said, “Let us rest now.”

They sat down to rest, and the porcupine went to sleep. Then the inkalimeva rose up and ate all the fat. When it had finished eating, it threw a stone at the porcupine, which caused him to jump up.

He called out with a loud voice, “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

Then the animals came running up and put the porcupine to death.

They put fat in the kraal the sixth time, and selected the hare (umvundla) to be the keeper of the gate. At first the hare would not consent.

He said, “The coney is dead, and the muishond is dead, and the duiker is dead, and the bluebuck is dead, and the porcupine is dead, and you will kill me also.”

They promised him that they would not kill him, and after a good deal of persuasion he at last agreed to keep the gate. When the animals were gone he laid himself down, but he only pretended to be asleep.

In a short time the inkalimeva went in, and was just going to take the fat when the hare cried out: “Let the fat alone.”

The inkalimeva said, “Please let me have this little bit only.”

The hare answered, mocking, “Please let me have this little bit only.”

After that they became companions. The hare proposed that they should fasten each other’s tail, and the inkalimeva agreed. The inkalimeva fastened the tail of the hare first.

The hare said, “Don’t tie my tail so tight.”

Then the hare fastened the tail of the inkalimeva.

The inkalimeva said, “Don’t tie my tail so tight,” but the hare made no answer. After tying the tail of the inkalimeva very fast, the hare took his club and killed it. The hare took the tail of the inkalimeva and ate it, all except a little piece which he hid in the fence.

Then he called out, “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

The animals came running back, and when they saw that the inkalimeva was dead they rejoiced greatly. They asked the hare for the tail, which should be kept for the chief.

The hare replied, “The one I killed had no tail.”

They said, “How can an inkalimeva be without a tail?”

They began to search, and at length they found a piece of the tail in the fence. They told the chief that the hare had eaten the tail.

He said, “Bring him to me!”

All the animals ran after the hare, but he fled, and they could not catch him. The hare ran into a hole, at the mouth of which the animals set a snare, and then went away. The hare remained in the hole for many days, but at length he managed to get out without being caught.

He went to a place where he found a bushbuck (imbabala) building a hut. There was a pot with meat in it on the fire.

He said to the bushbuck, “Can I take this little piece of meat?”

The bushbuck answered, “You must not do it.”

But he took the meat and ate it all. Afterwards he whistled in a particular manner, and there fell a storm of hail which killed the bushbuck. Then he took the skin of the bushbuck, and made for himself a mantle.

After this the hare went into the forest to procure some weapons to fight with. While he was cutting a stick the monkeys threw leaves upon him. He called to them to come down and beat him. They came down, but he killed them all with his weapons.


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Story of Gege-woman

An old man warns his three sons not to climb the roof, but the eldest and middle sons ignore him and both meet Gege-Woman, who catches fish with her breeches. They each reject her food and are devoured by wolves, bears, and wolverines. The youngest son, however, marries her, and with his father’s help, traps the beasts. Gege-Woman chases him, but after a fight with another woman, both die. The son and his family become rich.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: Gege-Woman herself is a supernatural entity capable of summoning wolves, bears, and wolverines to enforce her will.

Trials and Tribulations: The youngest son’s journey involves overcoming the peril posed by Gege-Woman, surviving her pursuit, and ultimately leading his family to prosperity.

Conflict with Authority: The sons’ decision to ignore their father’s explicit warning highlights a classic struggle between youthful defiance and parental authority, resulting in severe repercussions for the elder siblings.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


In Russian, Гегйка Баба which probably means “woman who cried ‘gege’!

Told by Mary Alin, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman. Recorded by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras, in the village of Markova, the Anadyr country, winter of 1900.

There was an old man and his wife. They had three sons. The old man said to his sons, “Listen, my children! Do not climb the roof, do not climb to the upper beam.” The next morning the elder son climbed to the roof and mounted the upper beam. He saw from there, on the seashore, that a young woman was catching fish with her own breeches. He descended and went to the shore. Gege-Woman was there catching fish with her breeches. “Ah, you have come!” — “Yes, I have.” — “Do you want to take me for your wife? If so, I will cook some food for you.” — “All right!”

They went home. Gege-Woman cooked some fish, and offered it to her future husband; but he pushed it off, and the fish fell to the ground. “Who wants to eat of your nasty fish, Breeches-Caught?” He left the house; but Gege-Woman followed him, and called aloud, “Gege, wolves, gege, bears, gege, wolverines, poz, poz, poz!” [one of the calls addressed to the dog-team] So the wolves, the bears, and the wolverines came and devoured him. The old man had lost the first son.

► Continue reading…

The second son, mounted the roof, and saw Gege-Woman catching fish with her breeches. He went the same way, and came to the shore. “O young man! take me for your wife. If you are willing, I will cook some food for you.” — “All right!” They went home, and she cooked some fish and offered it to her visitor; but he pushed it off. “Who wants to eat of your nasty fish, Breeches-Caught?” He left the house; but she followed him, and called aloud, “Gege, bears, gege, wolves, gege, wolverines, poz, poz, poz!” Bears, wolves and wolverines came and devoured him. The old man had lost his second son.

The third and the youngest son mounted the roof, and saw Gege-Woman. He went to the seashore. “O young man! take me for your wife. I will cook some food for you.” “All right!” He ate of the food. So they lived together. She forbade the bears and the wolves to devour the young man. Meanwhile the old man built a number of deadfalls and other traps. He caught all the bears and wolves and wolverines one by one. Then he said to his boy, “You may go away. There is nobody left to destroy you.” That very night he fled from there. Gege-Woman followed him. He saw a small stream of smoke coming out of the ground, and plunged down. It was the underground house of Haihai-Woman. [in Russian Гайгайка Баба “woman crying ‘hai, hai!’”] “Oh, oh I give me back my husband!” “I will not. He shall be mine.” So the two women fought and killed each other. He went out, and fled to his parents’ house. They visited the houses of the dead woman, and took everything there was. So they grew rich.

That is all.


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Story of a stepmother and her stepdaughters

An old man remarries a Yahga-Witch, who treats his daughter cruelly. One day, the girl is sent to wash a net but the current sweeps it away, leading her to the lower world. She cleans a stable, barn, and house, where an old woman helps her, giving her a silver net and a magical box that provides food. The Witch’s daughter follows the same path but opens a box that burns them both. The old man and his daughter then live with the kind old woman.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Trials and Tribulations: The stepdaughter faces numerous challenges, including the loss of the net and her subsequent journey to the lower world, testing her resilience and character.

Moral Lessons: The contrasting behaviors and outcomes of the stepmother’s daughter and the stepdaughter impart lessons on the virtues of kindness, diligence, and humility versus laziness and entitlement.

Supernatural Beings: The presence of the Yahga-Witch and the old woman in the lower world introduces elements of the supernatural, influencing the events and outcomes in the story.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


Told by Mary Alin, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman, in the village of Markova, the Anadyr country, winter of 1900.

There was an old man and his wife. The old woman died leaving a single daughter. The old man sought another wife, and married a widow, who had a daughter of her own. This widow was a Yahga-Witch. The stepmother had a violent dislike for her stepdaughter. She used to strike her hard and gave her nothing to eat. One day she sent her to the waterhole to wash some old nets. [Old nets are used in the households of the Russian and the Russianized natives instead of towels and napkins.] While the girl was washing it the swift current carried it away. She cried bitterly. Then she looked down the water-hole and saw a road. She descended and came to the lower world. She walked and walked, and then saw a horse stable. Several horses stood in it, and the place was quite unclean. So she cleaned it well, plucked some grass from under the snow among the tussocks, and brought it in for fresh litter. Then she continued on her way.

► Continue reading…

After a while she saw a cow barn. Several cows stood there. The barn was more filthy than the preceding one. She cleaned it well, and brought in some grass for fresh litter. Then she milked the cows and went away. After some time she came to a little house. It was so dirty that the rubbish covered the sill. She entered and cleaned the house. Then she made a fire and sat down on the bed. Sitting thus alone, she cried bitterly. All at once a noise was heard outside, and the shuffling of old feet clad in bristle-soled boots. There entered a small old woman. “Ah, my dear! whence do you come?” — “I have no mother. The Yagha-Witch was very hard on me. She sent me to the water-hole to wash an old net, and the current of water carried it off. So I thought, ‘She will surely kill me. I may as well descend to the lower world of my own free will?’” — “All right!” said the old woman, “you may pass this night in my house; and in the morning I will give you a net to make good your loss.”

In the morning the old woman gave her a net made of pure silver and also a small box with an iron cover. She said to the girl, “Give this net to the Yagha-Witch. She will thank you for it ever so much. You must keep the box for yourself. Everytime you feel hungry, you may call your father. Then open that box unseen by your stepmother. The box will give you-food and drink.” She took the presents and went home. She gave the silver net to the Yagha-Witch. Oh, the witch was so glad! She called her own daughter and gave her a piece of a new net, quite clean and white. Then she said, “Go to the water-hole. Perhaps they will give you something too.”

The daughter of the Yagha-Witch came to the water-hole. She washed the net. The current carried it off. She looked down the water-hole and saw a road. She followed it and came to the lower world. After some time she saw the horse stable. Several horses stood in it, and the place was unclean. The girl grumbled, “Oh, what a filthy place!” and passed by. Then she saw a cow barn. Several cows stood in it, and the place was dirtier than the preceding one. She passed by with much aversion. After that she came to the little house. It was so full of dirt that the rubbish covered the sill. “Oh, what awful dirt!” said the girl. She entered, however, and she sat on the bed in the cold and among the heap of rubbish, singing lustily. The old woman came in, and asked, “Oh, my dear! where do you come from?” — “My mother sent me to wash a net, and the current carried it away. I looked down the water-hole and saw a road. I followed that road and came here.” The old woman gave her a net, the very same she had dropped into the water-hole, and also a large box with a cover of larch wood. She warned her also, “Be sure not to open this box in the presence of anyone! You must open it only when you and your own mother are together.” The girl went back and came out of the water place. “Mother,” she called to the Yagha-Witch, “I have a box, ever so large.” — “Do not open it, will you?” said the mother. They took the box and hid beneath a bush. Then she opened the lid. A flame came out and burnt them both. So they were destroyed. The old man and his daughter left that place and departed for the under world. They came to the old woman. The old man married her, and they all three lived together.

The end.


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

Story about Kundirik

An old couple prayed for a child and named him Kundirik. After a bear demanded the boy as ransom, Kundirik cleverly escaped, killing the bear. He later encountered a man and his three daughters, casting a spell to discipline the rude girls. Marrying the youngest daughter, Kundirik reunited his impoverished parents with his wealthy in-laws, securing a better life for them all.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Kundirik employs clever tactics to outsmart the bear and later uses a spell to discipline the rude daughters.

Trials and Tribulations: Kundirik faces multiple challenges, including escaping from the bear and dealing with the ill-mannered daughters, demonstrating resilience.

Transformation through Love: Kundirik’s marriage to the youngest daughter leads to a positive change in circumstances for his impoverished parents, showcasing how love and union can bring about transformation.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


Told by Barbara Karyakin, a Russian creole woman, at Marinsky Post, the Anadyr country, fall of 1900.

There was an old man with an old woman. One time they prayed to God, asking Him to give them a child. God granted their prayer, and they had a son.

The old woman said, “What name shall we give to the boy?”

“Ah!” said the old man, “let us call him Kundirik.”

The old man went to hunt wild reindeer. When on the way, a bear attacked him and wanted to kill him.

“O grandfather! spare me!”

“Unless you promise to give me your son Kundirik, I shall kill all of you.”

► Continue reading…

He promised to give him the boy and the bear let him go. The old woman saw him come covered with blood: „Ah!” cried she, „My husband is bringing reindeer meat!”

“Do not make so much noise! It is my own blood. The grandfather wanted to kill me. O wife! he asked for our little Kundirik. Otherwise he said he should come and kill all of us.”

The old woman cried much, then she prepared some dolls for the boy. She put him on the window sill, and put the dolls by his side. Then they left the house and departed forever. The Bear came, and entered. “Kundirik, where are you?”

“I am here, outside, playing with dolls.”

The Bear went out. “Kundirik, where are you?”

“I am here, within, playing with the dolls.”

He was on the window sill, now within, and now outside. The Bear broke down the wooden wall and seized Kundirik.

“When we were traveling, father and I, he used to carry me on his shoulders.”

So the Bear put the boy on his shoulders and walked along. They came to a big hole in the ground. Two poles of aspen wood were protruding from it, and a sleeping place made of green branches was arranged on them.

“This is our sleeping place,” said the boy. “We used to sleep here, father in the hole, and I on the branches.”

The Bear entered the hole, and immediately went to sleep. The boy gathered a number of heavy stones and brought them all to the edge of the hole.

“Bear, Bear! are you sleeping?”

“Yes, I am. And are you?”

“I am not. My stomach is aching. I am afraid. I am going to defecate stones.”

Then he pushed the stones, and they fell down and hit the Bear. He was squeezed down, and his bowels came out of his belly.

“Kundirik, Kundirik, help me get out! I will take you to your father and mother.”

“No, I am afraid you will eat me up.”

And the Bear died.

Kundirik left him and went away. He saw a house and entered. In this house lived a man and his three daughters. The father awakened the daughters.

“Get up, daughters! A stranger has come. Give him food and drink.”

“Ah! let him look for it himself!”

He refused to do so, but went out of the house and said softly, “Kundirik! let those girls’ buttocks stick firmly to the flooring!”

In the morning the girls wanted to get up, but the boards of the flooring were lifted along with them.

“Ah!” said the father, “Something has happened. Go and fetch my old mother. She will give me counsel.”

Kundirik went to the old woman, who lived far off, and asked her to come.

“Ah!” said the old woman, “you must first help me with my wraps.” He wrapped her up. “Now you must help me to my sledge.” So he carried her to the sledge. They departed. After a while she said, “Kundirik, now help me defecate.” He put her down and took off some of her wraps. “Kundirik, now help me wipe my anus.”

“There is a horse,” said Kundirik, “go to him, he will clean you.” She approached the horse. The horse seized her naked buttocks with his teeth and tore her in two. Out of her lacerated anus came a quantity of mice, ermine, spermophile, toads, grubs.

Kundirik went to the old man, and said, “The old woman died on the way. She was indeed too old.”

The old man said to him, “Please find help for us if you can!”

Kundirik promised to do so. He went out of the house, and called aloud, “Kundirik! let these girls be detached from the flooring!” He went back and said, “Get up!” and they were free.

They gave him the youngest daughter in marriage. He took her along and went home. His father and mother were living in a small hut. A small fire was burning in this house. A small tea kettle was bubbling over the fire. His parents were full of joy, but he only knit his brows and said nothing. The same day he went back to his father-in-law, who was much better off than his own people. He slept there.

In the morning he went out and called aloud, “Kundirik! let my father and mother come over here!”

And there they were. After a while his father-in-law also went out and saw the new house. “Ah, ah!” said he, “some new people have come here, together with their house.”

The end.


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

A Chuvantzi tale (Anadyr version)

This tale is probably of Chuvantzi provenience. It is remarkable from the fact that some fragments of verse have been arranged in the form of an old Russian lay, although the life it describes is of native color. In the Kolyma country this tale has been transformed into a similar lay, more coherent in character, used chiefly as a lullaby.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Trials and Tribulations: Pondandi faces and overcomes multiple formidable challenges set by the woman, each serving as a test of his dedication and capabilities.

Transformation through Love: Pondandi’s unwavering efforts and accomplishments lead to a transformation in their relationship, moving from silence and distance to mutual understanding and partnership.

Conflict with Authority: The woman, assuming a position of authority after her father’s death, imposes difficult tasks on Pondandi, who must navigate and overcome these authoritative challenges to achieve his goal.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


Told by Anne Chain, a Russianized Chuvantzi woman, in the village of Markova, the Anadyr country, summer of 1896.

There was a man, Latka by name, who had an assistant who was called Pondandi. When Latka died, his daughter remained alone with Pondandi. Pondandi worked for her as he used to do for her father. One morning she arose and saw that there was no fire in the house. She walked out, and saw the assistant sitting on the other bank of the river, quite motionless. “Eh, Pondandi, Pondandi, why do you not make a fire? We are cold.” He said nothing, but sat as before, looking at her quite steadfastly. So she made the fire herself. “Here, Pondandi, fetch some water!” He did not stir. She went for water herself. “Here, Pondandi, cook some food! We are hungry.” He paid no attention. She cooked the brisket of a wild sheep. “O, Pondandi, Pondandi! what do you want?” He did not answer. “Come and have a meal!” He did not stir. She ate all alone, and went to sleep. The next morning she went out of the house. He was sitting on the very same place, looking at her more steadfastly than ever.

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She herself performed all the household work, and said nothing to him. When all was finished, she called, “Ah, Pondandi, Pondandi! what do you want?” He did not reply. “Perhaps you want a handsome suit of clothes. I will prepare them for you.” He sat as before without answering, looking steadfastly at her.

She had a meal and went to sleep. The next morning she looked at the river, and he was sitting there as before. “O Pondandi, Pondandi I what do you want? Perhaps you want to take me for your wife?” He jumped up like a football, and danced about. After one tour he sat down again, and looked at her as steadfastly as before. She said nothing until the next morning. Then she went to the river, and said:

O Pondandi, Pondandi!
If you want to marry me,
Go and kill a big brown bear
For a blanket for me.

He jumped up and danced about, and then started off like an arrow. She said to herself, “Oh, let him go! Perhaps the bear will devour him, and I shall be rid of him.” The next morning she went to the river, and Pondandi, was sitting there as before. “Ah!” thought she, “he is still alive.” But when she came back to her house, a big bear’s carcass was lying near the entrance.

O, Pondandi, Pondandi!
Go and kill a big elk
For trimming my dress.

He jumped up again and danced off. In due time she went to sleep, saying to herself, “No he is surely dead.” She arose in the morning and went to the river. Pondandi was sitting there, but a big elk’s carcass lay near the entrance.

O Pondandi, Pondandi!
If you want to marry me,
Go and kill a big mountain-sheep
For our wedding roast.

He jumped up and danced off. She said to herself, “Now perhaps he will fall down the cliff and be killed.” The next morning she went to the river. Pondandi was sitting there, and a big mountain-sheep carcass was lying near the door.

O Pondandi, Pondandi!
See there the big stone!
Go and bring it here
For our future children to play with.

He jumped up and danced off, “Ah,” said she, “now the end is coming. The stone is too heavy. He will desist from his marriage projects.”

The next morning she went out of the house; and a big mountain which had stood away back from the river had changed its place, and stood before the entrance.

O Pondandi, Pondandi!
If you want to marry me,
Take a bow with arrows
And shoot an arrow up to the sky,
Then you must follow it,
As swift as your arrow.

He jumped off and caught his bow. He strung it and shot an arrow up to heaven. Then he jumped upward and followed the arrow. She looked up and followed him with her eyes, until he was lost out of sight. She waited and waited, but he did not fall back, and never descended. “Ah,” said she, “surely he fell down at some other place. No doubt he is dead.” She went to sleep, and in the morning she went again to the river. Nobody was there. “Ah!” sighed she,” it is allover,” and went back to the house. At that moment, however, a man came driving a team of reindeer. It was Pondandi. He fell down somewhere among a big herd of reindeer: so he caught a pair of reindeer, and after attaching them to a sledge, he drove off. Now he arose from his sledge. He was quite handsome, and his clothes were fine. He entered the house and sat down on the bed of the girl.

“O you visitor! Do not sit down on my place! My bridegroom will come, and he will blame me.”

“I am your husband,” said Pondandi. “No,” said the girl, “you are not. His coat is of the worst kind of skins, and he himself is no more than a snotty youth.” — “If you do not believe me, come out, and I will prove it to you.” They went out, and he showed her his former clothes and the skin of a snotty youth in the tree. “Look there!” said Pondandi, “down the valley. My father and mother are passing there with a few of their herds.” She looked down, and the whole valley was alive with reindeer, — bucks and deer, and small fawns. The old people came nearer, and their herd proved much more numerous than the herd of the girl. They joined their herds and lived there. Latka’s daughter married Pondandi.

The end.


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A Markova tale

An old man and woman live simply, the man hunting and the woman cooking. After he locks her out to keep his reindeer meat, she leaves in search of human company. Guided by a snow-bunting, she deceives various villagers into trading up from a goose to a doe. While traveling with animals, they betray her. Defeated, she returns to the old man, resuming their modest life.

Source:
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1

New York, 1918


► Themes of the story

Trials and Tribulations: The old woman endures a series of challenges, including being locked out by the old man and the betrayals by animals, testing her resilience.

Loss and Renewal: After facing betrayal and defeat, the old woman returns to the old man, symbolizing a cycle of loss and the renewal of their simple life together.

Family Dynamics: The story explores the relationship between the old man and the old woman, their separation, and eventual reunion, shedding light on their interpersonal dynamics.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chuvan people


This tale like some others, was indicated as a real Markova tale, in contrast to others which were indicated as Lamut, Yukaghir, or Chuvantzi tales, or again, as Russian tales coming from Russia. It represents, however, a mixture of elements, Russian and native.

Told by Anne Sosykin, a Russianized Chukchee woman, in the village of Markova. Recorded by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras, winter of 1900.

There was an old man and an old woman. The old man used to catch hares and bring them to his old woman. She cooked them, and they ate together. One time the old man brought a fat reindeer. The old woman jumped for joy. “Ah, the fat reindeer!” She skinned it and dressed it and chopped it; and then she put some of it into a large kettle, which she hung up over the fire. The meat was nearly done. Then the old man said to himself, “This old woman will consume all my meat. Eh, old woman, fetch some water!” The old woman took a pail and went down to the river. The old man in a moment secured the door on the inside and waited in silence. The old woman came back and could not open the door. “What is the matter with this door?” — “Oh, nothing! I have fastened it on this side.” — “Why did you do so?” — “Oh, I was afraid you would eat all my fat meat.” The old woman climbed to the roof. “Old man, I put the foot of a hare behind the chimney. Please throw it out to me.” He did so. The old woman took the foot and went away. After some time she grew weary and sat down to rest. A magpie was flying by. “O magpie! please tell me where there are human people.” — “I will not tell you. When you lived with the old man, each time that I wanted to perch on the fish racks, you would hurl sticks at my head, I will tell you nothing.”

► Continue reading…

The old woman went on and after a while sat down again. A raven was flying by. “O Raven! please tell me where there are human people.” — “I will not tell you. When you lived with the old man each time I wanted to perch on the fish racks you would hurl lumps of earth at my head. I will tell you nothing. He flew off, and the old woman went on. After a while she sat down to rest. A snow-bunting flew past. “O, Snow-Bunting! please do tell me, where there are human people.” — “I will tell you. When you lived with the old men and whenever I perched upon the fish racks, you would do nothing to me; and when you were dressing fish for drying, you would leave for us some pieces of roe and liver. Follow me, I will show you the way.”

The snow-bunting flew away, and the old woman followed. After some time she saw a village. She entered one of the houses. The people bade her welcome, and gave her shelter and food. After the meal they said, “O old woman! we have prepared a couch for you on which you may sleep.” The next morning they gave her a goose, because they had a plentiful supply of wild and tame geese. They also showed her the way. She went on and came to other people. “Old woman, this couch is for you. Go to sleep.” She looked around, and saw that these people owned many swans: so she said to them. “Please give my goose a place among your swans.” Next morning she asked them, “Where is my little swan?” — “How is that. Did you not have a gosling?” — “No, I swear I had a little swan. I call God and the King to witness that I had a young swan.” So they gave her a swan. She took it and went on until she came to other people who had plenty of does. “Please put my swan among your does. It wants to be among your does.” They put it among the does. The next morning she asked, “Where is my doe?” — “Why, mother, you had a swan.” — “No, I swear I had a doe.” They gave her a doe and she went out. The next time she slept she stole a sledge and a reindeer-harness. She attached the doe to the sledge, and, seating herself on the sledge, drove on, singing lustily, “On, on, on! Run along the track, harness not mine, on without stopping! Other man’s sledge will never break down.” An arctic fox jumped up. “Here, granny, take me along on your sledge!” — “Sit down, you S… of a B…, your anus on the stanchion!” She drove on. A wolverene jumped up. “Here, granny, take me along on your sledge!” “Sit down, you S… of a B…, your anus on the stanchion.”

They drove on. A bear jumped up. “Here, granny, take me along on your sledge!” “Sit down, you S… of a B…, your anus on the stanchion!” The bear sat down on the sledge and it broke. “Oh, goodness! Go and bring me some wood. I will repair the sledge.” The arctic fox went and fetched a rotten log. “That is good for nothing,” said the old woman. The wolverene went and brought a crooked pole. “That is good for nothing,” said the old woman. The bear went and fetched a whole tree forked at about the middle. “That is too bad,” said the old woman. She went herself, and meanwhile they devoured the doe and ran off. The old woman came back, and there was no doe, nor any of her companions. So she left the sledge and went back to the old man. He had eaten his reindeer, and was catching hares again: he took the old woman back and they lived as before.

The end.


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