Tag: 50. Resurrection

Literal or metaphorical return from death or destruction

The revived who came to the under-world people

A husband and wife lost their son while living with an old childless couple. Desperate for food, the couple revived the dead youth through a magical ritual. The son became the old couple’s provider, rejecting his biological parents for abandoning him. Later, he married an ingnersuak woman and invited the old couple to her mystical homeland. However, their joy led them to disobey a critical warning, sealing their separation forever.

Source: 
Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo 
by Henry Rink 
[William Blackwood and Sons] 
Edinburgh and London, 1875

► Themes of the story

Resurrection: The narrative centers on the revival of a deceased son through a magical ritual, highlighting themes of life, death, and rebirth.

Family Dynamics: The story explores complex relationships, particularly the son’s rejection of his biological parents for abandoning him and his acceptance of the childless couple who restored him to life.

Supernatural Beings: The son’s marriage to an ingnersuak woman and the journey to her mystical homeland introduce elements of interaction with supernatural entities.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Inuit peoples

A husband and a wife, with an only son, were living together with an old married couple, who had got no children at all. On a certain day, while together on the fishing-place, the former lost their son, and left the place before the five subsequent mourning days were over, leaving the old childless people behind. Not knowing any way to get food without assistance, the man said to his wife, “Let us go up to the tomb.” Having arrived there, he went on, “Thou being a woman, must open the grave;” but she told him that he, being the man, ought to do so. However, she proceeded to take away the top-stone, after which the man set himself to open the grave.

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When they had got the corpse taken out, and had done chanting over it, it began to move, and after a while it rose up, and began running straight against the man. The woman now said to her husband, “Stand steady;” but the very same moment he was overturned, and in the next she was herself thrown over; and lastly the youth also fell down. The old man first rose, and going up to him said, “Now, dear, come along and stay with us;” and the revived youth went home with them, got a kayak, and became their provider. Once his real father came back to see what had become of the old people, who he almost expected had starved for want of food. Coming round the point, and seeing blood upon the stones on the beach, he thought, “They must have been to the grave and taken away the corpse;” but coming closer, he observed marks of seal-flensing besides, and therefore inquired, “Whoever might have caught these for you?” They made answer, “Thy own son, whom we have restored to life again;” but he at once prepared to kill them, because he doubted the truth of this assertion, and believed they were mocking him. The old man now said, “Just wait a little; and if he then does not come, it is time enough to kill us!” Before he had finished speaking, the son appeared from behind the point. They both cried out, “Don’t touch him at once!” but the father could not forbear so doing, and consequently he again fell down dead on the spot. The old people again sang some magic lay over him, and by this means restored him to life. Once more he moved, rose up, and ran right up to his father, whom he threw down, and likewise his foster-mother, but then stopped. His father would fain have taken him home to his true mother, but the son answered him, “No, no! ye left me before the five mourning days were over, and therefore I will remain with those who have revived me;” and the father started off by himself. One day the youth returned in his kayak, but in a strangely silent mood, whereat his father said, “Why doestn’t thou speak, dear?” to which the son answered that he had gone and taken an ingnersuak-woman for a wife. The old people were sorry that he should have to leave them, and asked him if they might not accompany him; and one day, on meeting an ingnersuak, he inquired of him whether he could bring them with him. He answered that they might come, but at the same time told him to warn them not to look back when they approached the rock which enclosed the abode of the ingnersuit, lest the entrance should remain shut for them. He told them this, and impressed on them all the way to keep their eyes fixed on the point of his kayak. They then instantly loaded the boat, and made ready to depart. When they had reached the cliff, and were rowing up to it, it forthwith opened; and inside was seen a beautiful country, with many houses, and a beach covered with pebbles, and large heaps of flesh and matak (edible skin). Perceiving this, the old people for joy forgot the warning and turned round, and instantly all disappeared: the prow of the boat knocked right against the steep rock, and was smashed in, so that they all were thrown down by the shock. The son said, “Now we must remain apart for ever; but build your house on yonder cliff: they will no doubt provide you with food.” They built their house on the cliff, and every day they got their meals without trouble from the ingnersuit.

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The Life of Christ (an Indian Version)

A young man, traveling with twelve others, experienced rejection, miraculous generosity, and hostility in various towns. His miracles caused fields to transform into forests, water, and stones. Accused of sorcery, he was captured, killed, and buried, only to rise again. He punished his betrayer and ascended to heaven, instructing a cock to signal his departure. The man was revealed to be Jesus.

Source
Ethnology of the Mayas of
Southern and Central British Honduras
by John Eric Thompson
Field Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Series, Pub.274, Vol.17.2
Chicago, 1930

► Themes of the story

Hero’s Journey: The protagonist embarks on a transformative adventure, performing miracles and facing challenges, leading to his death and resurrection.

Sacrifice: The protagonist is captured, killed, and buried, symbolizing the ultimate sacrifice for a greater cause.

Resurrection: After being executed and buried, the protagonist rises from the dead, demonstrating the theme of returning from death.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Maya people

Once there was a young man who went to travel with twelve other men. He arrived in the town and asked for lodging, but the owners of the house only permitted him to sleep in the henhouse. He did not want to sleep there, so he found another man who gave him lodging and who gave him a large mat on which he and the other twelve could sleep. He told the man’s wife to grind corn on the metate, giving her a fistful of maize. The woman did so, and with the handful of maize made sufficient tortillas for all of them. He went away at dawn after leaving money on the mat. The man went on and saw some men sowing. He asked them what they were sowing, but they did not reply.

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Then he told them that trees would come up in the milpa, and it was so. There sprang up trees over a milpa, which it took three days to cross. He saw some more men sowing, who again refused to tell him what they were doing. To these he said that they were sowing water, and a great expanse of water sprang up. Yet other sowers he caused to sow stones. Passing farther on, he again met some sowers, and these he caused to sow cohune palms. Then he passed on and crossed over a river. As he was crossing the river, he stepped on some fresh-water snails. The twelve men who were coming along could not find him, and questioned the fresh-water snails. The snails replied, “Don’t you see that he has trampled on us and turned us over?”

He came to a town where the people cursed him, saying that he was a witch doctor. Then he prepared a big feast, but the chief of the town wanted to kill him because of his sorcery in causing the milpas to grow trees, stones, water, and cohune palms. The man hid himself inside a harp at his feast. All the twelve young men were drunk. The chief did not know the man by sight and he asked the man’s servant to point him out. The servant said, “You will know him because he is the only one who does not eat.”

The chief and his soldiers looked in at the window and noted which one did not eat. They caught him and tied him and left him lying down. Then they called in a blind man and placed a machete in his hand and guided him over to where the sorcerer lay bound, and, placing the point of the machete against the sorcerer’s ribs, they bid the blind man drive it in. He did so, and the blood of the sorcerer, gushing out onto the eyes of the blind man, restored his sight. They took the body of the sorcerer and buried it and made a feast. After the feast they took the bones of the chickens they had eaten and threw them on the spot where the dead man had been buried. The bones instantly became a live turkey and a live cock. They told the birds to crow if the dead man came to life again. At midnight the dead sorcerer came to life again and told the turkey and the cock not to crow. Then he took the servant who had betrayed him and placed him in a big house under the earth and said to him, “You are to be the lord of the earthquakes. You will shake the earth three times.”

The man returned to the house and told the cock that he was going up to heaven at midnight, saying, “If you see me or even a bit of me or even my foot, you can crow and wake up the sleepers.” Then the man went up into heaven. The man’s name was Jesus.

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Of the Fat Woman who Melted Away

A beautiful woman made of oil faced challenges due to her fragility, as her mother feared she’d melt in the sun. She married a man who promised to protect her, but his jealous other wife forced her into the sun, where she melted. Her sister preserved her remains, and she was restored after three months. The husband, grateful, dismissed the jealous wife, setting a precedent for resolving marital conflicts.

Source
Folk Stories from Southern Nigeria
by Elphinstone Dayrell
Longmans, Green & Co.
London, New York, Bombay, Calcutta, 1910

► Themes of the story

Resurrection: The fat woman is restored to life after three months, symbolizing a return from death or destruction.

Family Dynamics: The protective relationship between the fat woman and her little sister highlights familial bonds and loyalty.

Moral Lessons: The narrative imparts lessons on the consequences of jealousy and the virtues of patience and familial support.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Nigerian peoples

There was once a very fat woman who was made of oil. She was very beautiful, and many young men applied to the parents for permission to marry their daughter, and offered dowry, but the mother always refused, as she said it was impossible for her daughter to work on a farm, as she would melt in the sun.

At last a stranger came from a far-distant country and fell in love with the fat woman, and he promised if her mother would hand her to him that he would keep her in the shade. At last the mother agreed, and he took his wife away.

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When he arrived at his house, his other wife immediately became very jealous, because when there was work to be done, firewood to be collected, or water to be carried, the fat woman stayed at home and never helped, as she was frightened of the heat.

One day when the husband was absent, the jealous wife abused the fat woman so much that she finally agreed to go and work on the farm, although her little sister, whom she had brought from home with her, implored her not to go, reminding her that their mother had always told them ever since they were born that she would melt away if she went into the sun. All the way to the farm the fat woman managed to keep in the shade, and when they arrived at the farm the sun was very hot, so the fat woman remained in the shade of a big tree. When the jealous wife saw this she again began abusing her, and asked her why she did not do her share of the work. At last she could stand the nagging no longer, and although her little sister tried very hard to prevent her, the fat woman went out into the sun to work, and immediately began to melt away. There was very soon nothing left of her but one big toe, which had been covered by a leaf. This her little sister observed, and with tears in her eyes she picked up the toe, which was all that remained of the fat woman, and having covered it carefully with leaves, placed it in the bottom of her basket. When she arrived at the house the little sister placed the toe in an earthen pot, filled it with water, and covered the top up with clay.

When the husband returned, he said, “Where is my fat wife?” and the little sister, crying bitterly, told him that the jealous woman had made her go out into the sun, and that she had melted away. She then showed him the pot with the remains of her sister, and told him that her sister would come to life again in three months’ time quite complete, but he must send away the jealous wife, so that there should be no more trouble; if he refused to do this, the little girl said she would take the pot back to their mother, and when her sister became complete again they would remain at home.

The husband then took the jealous wife back to her parents, who sold her as a slave and paid the dowry back to the husband, so that he could get another wife. When he received the money, the husband took it home and kept it until the three months had elapsed, when the little sister opened the pot and the fat woman emerged, quite as fat and beautiful as she had been before. The husband was so delighted that he gave a feast to all his friends and neighbours, and told them the whole story of the bad behaviour of his jealous wife.

Ever since that time, whenever a wife behaves very badly the husband returns her to the parents, who sell the woman as a slave, and out of the proceeds of the sale reimburse the husband the amount of dowry which he paid when he married the girl.

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Sogsogot

Sogsogot, a hunter, was abducted by a giant bird and left in its nest with young birds and pigs. He survived by feeding on prey brought by the bird and eventually escaped using the birds to glide down. Later, he encountered his wife’s spirit, who guided him to a spirit town but warned of dangers. After two weeks, he returned home, realizing his wife had passed.

Source
Philippine Folk Tales
compiled and annotated by
Mabel Cook Cole
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1916

► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: Sogsogot encounters the spirit of his deceased wife, highlighting interactions between mortals and spirits.

Underworld Journey: His journey to the spirit town, a realm beyond the living, reflects this theme.

Resurrection: His return from the spirit world to the land of the living symbolizes a form of resurrection.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Philippines peoples

One day, a long time ago, some men went to the mountains to hunt deer and wild pig, and among them was one named Sogsogot. They all went into the thick forest to look for game, but after a while Sogsogot called his dog and withdrew to an open spot near by, where he waited for the deer to come out.

While he stood there eagerly watching, a big bird swooped down, caught him in its claws, and carried him away. Far off over the mountains the bird soared, until finally it came to a big tree where it had its nest, and here it left the man and flew away.

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Sogsogot’s first thought was to make his escape, but he found that the tree was so tall that he could not get down, and after a time he ceased his attempts to get away and began to look over his companions in the nest–two young birds and three little pigs.

By and by he became hungry, so he cut up the three little pigs, and after he had eaten all he wished he fed the two birds. When this meat was gone the mother bird brought more pigs and deer, and the man had all he could eat. Then he fed the little birds, which grew very fast and soon were able to fly. One day when they were standing on the edge of the nest Sogsogot caught hold of the birds’ legs, and they fluttered down and carried him safely to the ground.

He hastened home as fast as he could go and told the people of his wonderful trip. They made a ceremony for the spirits, and all the people rejoiced that the lost man had returned.

Some time after this Sogsogot went to a hostile town to fight, and while he was gone his wife died. On the way back to his town he met the spirit of his wife driving a cow and two pigs, and not knowing that she was a spirit he asked her where she was going.

“I am not a person any more,” she answered him; “I am dead.” And when he wanted to touch her hand, she gave him only her shortest finger. He begged to go with her so she said, “Go first to our home and get a white chicken; then follow the footmarks of the cow and pigs.”

He did as she commanded him, and after a while he came to a place where she was bathing in the river. She said to him:

“Now you may come with me to our spirit town. I shall hide you in the rice-bin and shall bring food to you every day. But at night the people in the town will want to eat you, and when they come to the bin you must take some of the feathers of the white chicken and throw at them.”

The man went with her, and when they arrived at the spirit town she hid him in the rice-bin. At night the people came to eat him, as she had said they would; but when he threw the chicken feathers at them they were frightened away.

For two weeks Sogsogot lived in this place, but when the feathers were nearly gone he was afraid to stay any longer, for every night the spirits came to eat him. He begged his wife to allow him to go, and finally she showed him the way home, giving him rice to eat on his journey.

As soon as the man arrived home and inquired for his wife, the people told him that she had died and they had buried her under the house. Then he knew that it was her spirit that had taken him to the strange town.

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The Pomegranate King

The Pomegranate King mourns his wife’s death and cares for their two children. He remarries, but the new queen mistreats the children and tries to kill them. Through divine intervention, the children are repeatedly saved, eventually becoming fruits on a magical tree. The king discovers the truth, punishes the queen, and reunites with his wife, who returns in bird form before regaining her human shape. They live happily ever after.

Source
Indian Fairy Tales
collected and translated by Maive Stokes
Ellis & White, London, 1880

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The children undergo physical changes, becoming fruits on a magical tree, and the mother transforms from a bird back into her human form, symbolizing change and renewal.

Revenge and Justice: The king discovers the truth about the queen’s malice, leading to her punishment and the restoration of order within the family.

Resurrection: The mother’s return from death, first as a bird and then regaining her human form, signifies a literal resurrection, bringing the family back together.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hindu people

Told by Dunkní at Simla, 26th July, 1876

There was once a Mahárájá, called the Anárbásá, or Pomegranate King; and a Mahárání called the Gulíanár, or Pomegranate-flower. The Mahárání died leaving two children: a little girl of four or five years old, and a little boy of three. The Mahárájá was very sorry when she died, for he loved her dearly. He was exceedingly fond of his two children, and got for them two servants: a man to cook their dinner, and an ayah to take care of them. He also had them taught to read and write. Soon after his wife’s death the neighbouring Rájá’s daughter’s husband died, and she said if any other Rájá would marry her, she would be quite willing to marry him, and she also said she would like very much to marry the Pomegranate Rájá.

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So her father went to see the Pomegranate Rájá, and told him that his daughter wished to marry him. “Oh,” said the Pomegranate Rájá, “I do not want to marry again, for if I do, the woman I marry will be sure to be unkind to my two children. She will not take care of them. She will not pet them and comfort them when they are unhappy.” “Oh,” said the other Rájá, “my daughter will be very good to them, I assure you.” “Very well,” said the Mahárájá, “I will marry her.” So they were married.

For two or three months everything went on well, but then the new Rání, who was called the Sunkásí Mahárání, began to beat the poor children, and to scold their servants. One day she gave the boy such a hard blow on his cheek that it swelled. When the Mahárájá came out of his office to get his tiffin, he saw the boy’s swollen face, and, calling the two servants, he said, “Who did this? how did my boy get hurt?” They said, “The Rání gave him such a hard blow on his cheek that it swelled, and she gets very angry with us if we say anything about her ill-treatment of the children, or how she scolds us.” The Mahárájá was exceedingly angry with his wife for this, and said to her, “I never beat my children. Why should you beat them? If you beat them I will send you away.” And he went off to his office in a great rage. The Rání was very angry. So she told the little girl to go with the ayah to the bazar. The ayah and the little girl set off, never suspecting any evil. As soon as they had gone, the Rání took the little boy and told him she would kill him. The boy went down on his knees and begged her to spare his life. But she said, “No; your father is always quarrelling with me, beating me, and scolding me, all through your fault.” The boy begged and prayed again, saying he would never be naughty any more. The Rání shook her head, and taking a large knife she cut off his head. She then cut him up and made him into a curry. She then buried his head, and his nails, and his feet in the ground, and she covered them well with earth, and stamped the ground well down so that no one should notice it had been disturbed. When the Pomegranate Rájá came home to his dinner, she put the curry and some rice on the table before him; but the Rájá, seeing his boy was not there, would not eat. He went and looked everywhere for his son, crying very much, and the little girl cried very much too, for she loved her brother dearly. After they had hunted for him for some time, the little boy appeared. His father embraced him. “Where have you been?” said he. “I cannot eat my dinner without you.” The little boy said, “Oh, I was in the jungle playing with other boys.” They then sat down to dinner, and the curry changed into a kid curry. The Rání was greatly astonished when she saw the boy. She said to herself, “I cut his head off; I cut him into little pieces, and I made him into a curry, and yet he is alive!” She then went into the garden to see if his head, and nails, and feet were in the hole where she had buried them. But they were not there; it was quite empty. She then called a sepoy, and said to him, “If you will take two children into the jungle and kill them, I will give you as much money as you like.” “All right,” said the sepoy. She then brought the children, and told him to take them to the jungle. So he took them away to the jungle, but he had not the heart to kill them, for they were exceedingly beautiful, and he left them in the jungle near their dead mother’s grave. Then he returned to the Rání, saying he had done as she wished, and she gave him as much money as he wanted.

The poor Pomegranate Rájá was very unhappy when he saw his children were not in the palace, and that they could not be found. He asked his Rání where they were, but she said she did not know; they had gone out to play and had never returned. From the day he lost his children the Pomegranate Rájá became melancholy. He did not love the Rání any more; he hated her.

Meanwhile the children lived in a little house built close to their mother’s grave. God had given her life again that she might take care of them. But they did not know she was their mother; they thought she was another woman sent to take care of them. God sent also a man to teach them. Somehow or other the Rání Sunkásí heard they were still alive in the jungle. She did not know how she could kill them. So at last she pretended she was very ill, and she said to the Rájá, “The doctor says that in the jungle there are two children, and he says if you will have them killed, and will bring their livers for me to stand on when I bathe, then I shall get well.” The Rájá sent a second sepoy to kill the children, and this man killed them and brought their livers to the Rání. She stood on them while bathing, and then said she was quite well. She then threw the livers into the garden, and during the night a tree grew up there with two large beautiful flowers on it. Next morning the Rání looked out and said, “I will gather those flowers to-day.” Every day she said she would gather them, and every day she forgot. At last one day she said, “Every day I forget to gather those flowers, but to-day I really will do so,” and she sent her servant to pluck them. So he went out, and, just as he was going to gather them, the flowers flew up just out of his reach. Then the Rání went down, and when she was going to pick them they flew up so high that they could not be seen. Every day she tried to gather them, and every day they went high up, and came back again to the tree as soon as she had gone. Then the flowers disappeared and two large fruits came in their stead. The Rání looked out of her window: “Oh, what delicious fruits! I’ll eat them all myself. I won’t give a bit to anybody, and I’ll eat them by myself quite quietly.” She went down to the garden, but they flew high up into the sky, and then they came down again. So this went on, day after day, until she got so cross she ordered the tree to be cut down. But it was of no use. The tree was cut down, but the fruits flew high up into the sky, and in the night the tree grew up again and the fruits came back again to it. And so this went on for many days. Every day she cut down the tree, and every night it grew up again, but she could never get the fruits. At last she became very angry, and had the tree hewn into tiny bits and all the bits thrown away, but still the tree grew again in the night, and in the morning the fruits were hanging on it. So she went to the Rájá and told him that in the garden was a tree with two fruits, and every time she tried to get them, the fruits went up into the air. She had had the tree cut down ever so many times, and it always grew up again in the night and the fruits returned to it. “Why cannot you leave the tree alone?” said the Rájá. “But I should like to see if what you say is true.” So the Rájá and the Rání went down to the garden, and the Rání tried to get the fruits, but she could not, for they went right up into the air.

That evening the Rájá went alone to the garden to gather the fruits, and the fruits of themselves fell into his hand. He took them into his room, and putting them on a little table close to his bed, he lay down to sleep. As soon as he was in bed a little voice inside one of the fruits said, “Brother;” and a little voice in the other fruit said, “Sister, speak more gently. To-morrow the Rájá will break open the fruits, and if the Rání finds us she will kill us. Three times has God made us alive again, but if we die a fourth time he will bring us to life no more.” The Rájá listened and said, “I will break them open in a little while.” Then he went to sleep, and after a little he woke and said, “A little while longer,” and went to sleep again. Several times he woke up and said, “I will break the fruits open in a little while,” and went to sleep. At last he took a knife and began cutting the fruits open very fast, and the little boy cried, “Gently, gently, father; you hurt us!” So then the Rájá cut more gently, and he stopped to ask, “Are you hurt?” and they said, “No.” And then he cut again and asked, “Are you hurt?” and they said, “No.” And a third time he asked, “Are you hurt?” and they answered, “No.” Then the fruits broke open and his two children jumped out. They rushed into their father’s arms, and he clasped them tight, and they cried softly, that the Rání might not hear.

He shut his room up close, and fed and dressed his children, and then went out of the room, locking the door behind him. He had a little wooden house built that could easily catch fire, and as soon as it was ready he went to the Rání and said, “Will you go into a little house I have made ready for you while your room is getting repaired?” “All right,” said the Rání; so she went into the little house, and that night a man set it on fire, and the Rání and everything in it was burnt up. Then the Pomegranate Rájá took her bones, put them into a tin box, and sent them as a present to her mother. “Oh,” said the mother, “my daughter has married the Pomegranate Mahárájá, and so she sends me some delicious food.” When she opened the box, to her horror she found only bones! Then she wrote to the Mahárájá, “Of what use are bones?” The Mahárájá wrote back, “They are your bones; they belong to you, for they are your daughter’s bones. She ill-treated and killed my children, and so I had her burnt.”

The Pomegranate Rájá and his children lived very happily for some time, and their dead mother, the Gulíanár Rání, having a wish to see her husband and her children, prayed to God to let her go and visit them. God said she could go, but not in her human shape, so he changed her into a beautiful bird, and put a pin in her head, and said, “As soon as the pin is pulled out you will become a woman again.” She flew to the palace where the Mahárájá lived, and there were great trees about the palace. On one of these she perched at night. The doorkeeper was lying near it. She called out, “Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!” and he answered, “What is it? Who is it?” And she asked, “Is the Rájá well?” and the doorkeeper said, “Yes.” “Are the children well?” and he said, “Yes.” “And all the servants, and camels, and horses?” “Yes.” “Are you well?” “Yes.” “Have you had plenty of food?” “Yes.” “What a great donkey your Mahárájá is!” And then she began to cry very much, and pearls fell from her eyes as she cried. Then she began to laugh very much, and great big rubies fell from her beak as she laughed. The next morning the doorkeeper got up and felt about, and said, “What is all this?” meaning the pearls and the rubies, for he did not know what they were. “I will keep them.” So he picked them all up and put them into a corner of his house. Every night the bird came and asked after the Mahárájá and the children and the servants, and left a great many pearls and rubies behind her. At last the doorkeeper had a whole heap of pearls and rubies.

One day a Fakír came and begged, and as the doorkeeper had no pice, or flour, or rice to give, he gave him a handful of pearls and rubies. “Well,” said the Fakír to himself, “I am sure these are pearls and rubies.” So he tied them up in his cloth. Then he went to the Rájá to beg, and the Rájá gave him a handful of rice. “What!” said the Fakír, “the great Mahárájá only gives me a handful of rice when his doorkeeper gives me pearls and rubies!” and he turned to walk away. But the Mahárájá stopped him. “What did you say?” said he, “that my doorkeeper gave you pearls and rubies?” “Yes,” said the Fakír, “your doorkeeper gave me pearls and rubies.” So the Mahárájá went to the doorkeeper’s house, and when he saw all the pearls and rubies that were there, he thought the man had stolen them from his treasury. The Mahárájá had not as many pearls and rubies as his doorkeeper had. Then turning to the doorkeeper he asked him to tell him truly where and how he had got them. “Yes, I will,” said the doorkeeper. “Every night a beautiful bird comes and asks after you, after your children, after all your elephants, horses, and servants; and then it cries, and when it cries pearls drop from its eyes; and then it laughs, and rubies fall from its beak. If you come to-night I dare say you will see it.” “All right,” said the Pomegranate Rájá.

So that night the Mahárájá pulled his bed out under the tree on which the bird always perched. At night the bird came and called out, “Doorkeeper! doorkeeper!” and the doorkeeper answered, “Yes, lord.” And the bird said, “Is your Mahárájá well?” “Yes.” “Are the children well?” “Yes.” “And all his servants, horses, and camels and elephants–are they well?” “Yes.” “Are you well?” “Yes.” “Have you had plenty of food?” “Yes.” “What a fool your Mahárájá is!” And then she cried, and the pearls came tumbling down on the Mahárájá’s eyes, and the Mahárájá opened one eye and saw what a beautiful bird it was. And then it laughed, and rubies fell from its beak on to the Mahárájá. Next morning the Mahárájá said he would give any one who would catch the bird as much money as he wanted. So he called a fisherman, and asked him to bring his net and catch the bird when it came that night. The fisherman said he would for one thousand rupees. That night the fisherman, the Mahárájá, and the doorkeeper, all waited under the tree. Soon the bird came, and asked after the Mahárájá, after his children, and all his servants and elephants, and camels and horses, and then after the doorkeeper, and then it called the Mahárájá a fool. Then it cried, and then it laughed, and just as it laughed the fisherman threw the net over the bird and caught it. Then they shut it up in an iron cage, and the next morning the Mahárájá took it out and stroked it, and said, “What a sweet little bird! what a lovely little bird!” And the Mahárájá felt something like a pin in its head, and he gave a pull, and out came the pin, and then his own dear wife, the Pomegranate-flower Rání, stood before him. The Rájá was exceedingly glad, and so were his two children. And there were great rejoicings, and they lived happily ever after.

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Ahuula: A Legend of Kanikaniaula and the First Feather Cloak

Eleio, a kukini (swift runner) and kahuna under King Kakaalaneo of Maui, embarks on a mission to fetch awa but encounters a spirit disguised as a beautiful woman. After a rigorous chase, Eleio uncovers her true identity and revives her deceased body through sacred rituals. The resurrected woman, Kanikaniaula, becomes a queen, her family gifting Eleio a feather cloak symbolizing loyalty, skill, and legacy.

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

► Themes of the story

Resurrection: Eleio performs sacred rituals to revive the deceased Kanikaniaula, illustrating the motif of bringing someone back to life.

Sacred Objects: The feather cloak (ahuula) symbolizes loyalty and legacy, representing an artifact of significant cultural and spiritual importance.

Quest: Eleio’s journey to fetch awa for the king and his subsequent pursuit of the mysterious woman constitute a quest filled with challenges and discoveries.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians

by Mrs. E.M. Nakuina

Eleio was a kukini (trained runner) in the service of Kakaalaneo, King of Maui, several runners being always kept by each king or alii of consequence. These kukinis, when sent on any errand, always took a direct line for their destination, climbing hills with the agility of goats, jumping over rocks and streams, and leaping from precipices. They were so fleet of foot that the common illustration of the fact among the natives was the saying that when a kukini was sent on an errand that would ordinarily take a day and a night, fish wrapped in ki leaves (known as lawalu), if put on the fire on his starting, would not be cooked sufficiently to be turned before he would be back.

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Being so serviceable to the aliis, kukinis always enjoyed a high degree of consideration, freedom, and immunity from the strict etiquette and unwritten laws of a Hawaiian court. There was hardly anything so valuable in their master’s possession that they could not have it if they wished.

Eleio was sent to Hana to fetch awa for the King, and was expected to be back in time for the King’s supper. Kakaalaneo was then living at Lahaina. Now, Eleio was not only a kukini, but he was also a kahuna, and had been initiated in the ceremonies and observances by which he was enabled to see spirits or wraiths, and was skilled in medicines, charms, etc., and could return a wandering spirit to its body unless decomposition had set in.

Soon after leaving Olowalu, and as he commenced the ascent of Aalaloloa, he saw a beautiful young woman ahead of him. He naturally hastened his steps, intending to overtake such a charming fellow-traveller; but, do what he would, she kept always just so far ahead of him. Being the fleetest and most renowned kukini of his time, it roused his professional pride to be outrun by a woman, even if only for a short distance; so he was determined to catch her, and he gave himself entirely to that effort. The young woman led him a weary chase over rocks, hills, mountains, deep ravines, precipices, and dark streams, till they came to the Lae (cape) of Hanamanuloa at Kahikinui, beyond Kaupo, when he caught her just at the entrance to a puoa. A puoa was a kind of tower, generally of bamboo, with a platform half-way up, on which the dead bodies of persons of distinction belonging to certain families or classes were exposed to the elements.

When Eleio caught the young woman she turned to him and cried: “Let me live! I am not human, but a spirit, and inside this inclosure is my dwelling.”

He answered: “I have been aware for some time of your being a spirit. No human being could have so outrun me.”

She then said: “Let us be friends. In yonder house live my parents and relatives. Go to them and ask for a hog, kapas, some fine mats, and a feather cloak. Describe me to them and tell them that I give all those things to you. The feather cloak is unfinished. It is now only a fathom and a half square, and was intended to be two fathoms. There are enough feathers and netting in the house to finish it. Tell them to finish it for you.” The spirit then disappeared.

Eleio entered the puoa, climbed on to the platform, and saw the dead body of the girl. She was in every way as beautiful as the spirit had appeared to him, and apparently decomposition had not yet set in. He left the puoa and hurried to the house pointed out by the spirit as that of her friends, and saw a woman wailing, whom, from the resemblance, he at once knew to be the mother of the girl; so he saluted her with an aloha. He then said: “I am a stranger here, but I had a travelling companion who guided me to yonder puoa and then disappeared.” At these strange words the woman stopped wailing and called to her husband, to whom she repeated what the stranger had said. The latter then asked: “Does this house belong to you?”

Husband and wife, wondering, answered at once: “It does.”

“Then,” said Eleio, “my message is to you. My travelling companion has a hog a fathom in length in your care; also a pile of fine kapas of Paiula and others of fine quality; also a pile of mats and an unfinished feather cloak, now a fathom and a half in length, which you are to finish, the materials being in the house. All these things she has given to me, and sent me to you for them.” Then he began to describe the young woman. Both parents recognized the truthfulness of the description, and willingly agreed to give up the things which their beloved daughter must have herself given away. But when they spoke of killing the hog and making an ahaaina (feast) for him, whom they had immediately resolved to adopt as a son, he said: “Wait a little and let me ask: Are all these people I see around this place your friends?”

They both answered: “They are our relatives–uncles, aunts, and cousins to the spirit, who seems to have adopted you either as husband or brother.”

“Will they do your bidding in everything?” he asked.

They answered that they could be relied upon. He directed them to build a large lanai, or arbor, to be entirely covered with ferns, ginger, maile, and ieie–the sweet and odorous foliage greens of the islands. An altar was to be erected at one end of the lanai and appropriately decorated. The order was willingly carried out, men, women, and children working with a will, so that the whole structure was finished in a couple of hours.

Eleio now directed the hog to be cooked. He also ordered cooked red and white fish, red, white, and black cocks, and bananas of the lele and maoli varieties, to be placed on the altar. He ordered all women and children to enter their houses and to assist him with their prayers; all pigs, chickens, and dogs to be tied in dark huts to keep them quiet, and that the most profound silence should be kept. The men at work were asked to remember their gods, and to invoke their assistance for Eleio. He then started for Hana, pulled up a couple of bushes of awa of Kaeleku, famous for its medicinal properties, and was back again before the hog was cooked. The awa was prepared, and when the preparations for the feast were complete and set out, he offered everything to his gods and begged assistance in what he was about to perform.

It seems the spirit of the girl had been lingering near him all the time, seeming to be attached to him, but of course invisible to every one. When Eleio had finished his invocation he turned and caught the spirit, and, holding his breath and invoking the gods, he hurried to the puoa, followed by the parents, who now began to understand that he was going to try the kapuku (or restoration to life of the dead) on their daughter. Arriving at the puoa, he placed the spirit against the insteps of the girl and pressed it firmly in, meanwhile continuing his invocation. The spirit entered its former tenement kindly enough until it came to the knees, when it refused to go any further, as from there it could perceive that the stomach was beginning to decompose, and it did not want to be exposed to the pollution of decaying matter. But Eleio, by the strength of his prayers, was enabled to push the spirit up past the knees till it came to the thigh bones, when the refractory spirit again refused to proceed. He had to put additional fervor into his prayers to overcome the spirit’s resistance, and it proceeded up to the throat, when there was some further check; by this time the father, mother, and male relatives were all grouped around anxiously watching the operation, and they all added the strength of their petitions to those of Eleio, which enabled him to push the spirit past the neck, when the girl gave a sort of crow. There was now every hope of success, and all the company renewed their prayers with redoubled vigor. The spirit made a last feeble resistance at the elbows and wrists, which was triumphantly overborne by the strength of the united prayers. Then it quietly submitted, took complete possession of the body, and the girl came to life. She was submitted to the usual ceremonies of purification by the local priest, after which she was led to the prepared lanai, when kahuna, maid, parents, and relatives had a joyous reunion. Then they feasted on the food prepared for the gods, who were only supposed to absorb the spiritual essence of things, leaving the grosser material parts to their devotees, who, for the time being, are considered their guests.

After the feast the feather cloak, kapas, and fine mats were brought and displayed to Eleio; and the father said to him: “Take the woman thou hast restored and have her for wife, and remain here with us; you will be our son and will share equally in the love we have for her.”

But our hero, with great self-denial and fidelity, said: “No, I accept her as a charge, but for wife, she is worthy to be one for a higher than I. If you will trust her to me, I will take her to my master, for by her beauty and charms she is worthy to be the queen of our lovely island.”

The father answered: “She is yours to do with as you will. It is as if you had created her, for without you, where would she be now? We only ask this, that you always remember that you have parents and relatives here, and a home whenever you choose.”

Eleio then asked that the feather cloak be finished for him before he returned to his master. All who could work at feathers set about it at once, including the fair girl restored to life; and he now learned that she was called Kanikaniaula.

When it was completed he set out on his return to Lahaina accompanied by the girl, and taking the feather cloak and the remaining awa he had not used in his incantations. They travelled slowly according to the strength of Kanikaniaula, who now in the body could not equal the speed she had displayed as a spirit.

Arriving at Launiupoko, Eleio turned to her and said: “You wait and hide here in the bushes while I go on alone. If by sundown I do not return, I shall be dead. You know the road by which we came; then return to your people. But if all goes well with me I shall be back in a little while.”

He then went on alone, and when he reached Makila, on the confines of Lahaina, he saw a number of people heating an imu, or underground oven. On perceiving him they started to bind and roast him alive, such being the orders of the King, but he ordered them away with the request, “Let me die at the feet of my master.” And thus he passed successfully the imu heated for him.

When he finally stood before Kakaalaneo, the latter said to him: “How is this? Why are you not cooked alive, as I ordered? How came you to pass my lunas?”

The kukini answered: “It was the wish of the slave to die at the feet of his master, if die he must; but if so, it would be an irreparable loss to you, my master, for I have that with me that will cause your name to be renowned and handed down to posterity.”

“And what is that?” questioned the King.

Eleio then unrolled his bundle and displayed to the astonished gaze of the King and courtiers the glories of a feather cloak, before then unheard of on the islands. Needless to say, he was immediately pardoned and restored to royal favor, and the awa he had brought from Hana was reserved for the King’s special use in his offerings to the gods that evening.

When the King heard the whole story of Eleio’s absence, and that the fair original owner was but a short way off, he ordered her to be immediately brought before him that he might express his gratitude for the wonderful garment. When she arrived, he was so struck with her beauty and modest deportment that he ask her to become his Queen. Thus, some of the highest chiefs of the land traced their descent from Kakaalaneo and Kanikaniaula. The original feather cloak, known as the “Ahu o Kakaalaneo,” is said to be in the possession of the Pauahi Bishop Museum. At one time it was used on state occasions as pa-u, or skirt, by Princess Nahienaena, own sister of the second and third Kamehame-has.

The ahuulas of the ancient Hawaiians were of fine netting, entirely covered, with feathers woven in. These were either of one color and kind or two or three different colors outlining patterns. The feathers were knotted by twos or threes with twisted strands of the olona, the process being called uo. They were then woven into the foundation netting previously made the exact shape and size wanted. The whole process of feather cloak making was laborious and intricate, and the making of a cloak took a great many years. And as to durability, let the cloak of Kalaalaneo, now several centuries old, attest.

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Kahalaopuna, Princess of Manoa

Kahalaopuna, the legendary Princess of Manoa, symbolizes beauty, love, and resilience. Born of the union of rain and wind deities, her life was marred by jealousy and cruelty from her betrothed, Kauhi. Despite enduring betrayal, death, and miraculous resurrections, her tragic story culminates in ultimate sacrifice. Honored in Hawaiian lore, she remains a spiritual presence, her legacy immortalized in Manoa Valley’s winds, rains, and lush landscapes.

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

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: Kahalaopuna’s betrothed, Kauhi, becomes jealous and cruel, leading to her suffering and death.

Resurrection: Despite being killed, Kahalaopuna is miraculously brought back to life multiple times.

Tragic Love: The relationship between Kahalaopuna and Kauhi ends in sorrow and sacrifice.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians

by Mrs. E.M. Nakuina

Akaaka (laughter) is a projecting spur of the mountain range at the head of Manoa Valley, forming the ridge running back to and above Waiakeakua, “the water of the gods.” Akaaka was united in marriage to Nalehuaakaaka, still represented by some lehua (Metrosideros polymorpha) bushes on the very brow of the spur or ridge. They had two children, twins, Kahaukani, a boy, and Kauakuahine, a girl. These children were adopted at birth by a chief, Kolowahi, and chieftainess, Pohakukala, who were brother and sister, and cousins of Akaaka. The brother took charge of the boy, Kahaukani, meaning the Manoa wind; and Pohakukala the girl, Kauakuahine, meaning the famous Manoa rain.

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When the children were grown up, the foster parents determined that they should be united; and the children, having been brought up separately and in ignorance of their relationship, made no objections. They were accordingly married and a girl was born to them, who was called Kahalaopuna. Thus Kolowahi and Pohakukala, by conspiring to unite the twin brother and sister, made permanent the union of rain and wind for which Manoa Valley is noted; and the fruit of such a union was the most beautiful woman of her time. So the Manoa girls, foster children of the Manoa rains and winds, have generally been supposed to have inherited the beauty of Kahalaopuna.

A house was built for Kahalaopuna at Kahaiamano on the road to Waiakekua, where she lived with a few attendants. The house was surrounded by a fence of auki (dracæna), and a puloulou (sign of kapu) was placed on each side of the gate, indicative of forbidden ground. The puloulou were short, stout poles, each surmounted by a ball of white kapa cloth, and indicated that the person or persons inhabiting the premises so defined were of the highest rank, and sacred.

Kahalaopuna was very beautiful from her earliest childhood. Her cheeks were so red and her face so bright that a glow emanated therefrom which shone through the thatch of her house when she was in; a rosy light seemed to envelop the house, and bright rays seemed to play over it constantly. When she went to bathe in the spring below her house, the rays of light surrounded her like a halo. The natives maintain that this bright light is still occasionally seen at Kahaiamano, indicating that the spirit of Kahalaopuna is revisiting her old home.

She was betrothed in childhood to Kauhi, the young chief of Kailua, in Koolau, whose parents were so sensible of the honor of the contemplated union of their son with the Princess of Manoa, who was deemed of a semi-supernatural descent, that they always sent the poi of Kailua and the fish of Kawainui for the girl’s table. She was thus, as it were, brought up entirely on the food of her prospective husband.

When she was grown to young womanhood, she was so exquisitely beautiful that the people of the valley would make visits to the outer puloulou at the sacred precinct of Luaalea, the land adjoining Kahaiamano, just to get a glimpse of the beauty as she went to and from the spring. In this way the fame of her surpassing loveliness was spread all over the valley, and came to the ears of two men, Kumauna and Keawaa, both of whom were disfigured by a contraction of the lower eyelids, and were known as makahelei (drawn eyes). Neither of these men had ever seen Kahalaopuna, but they fell in love with her from hear-say, and not daring to present themselves to her as suitors on account of their disfigurement, they would weave and deck themselves leis (wreaths) of maile (Alyxia olivæformis), ginger, and ferns and go to Waikiki for surf-bathing. While there they would indulge in boasting of their conquest of the famous beauty, representing the leis with which they were decked as love-gifts from Kahalaopuna. Now, when the surf of Kalehuawehe at Waikiki was in proper condition, it would attract people from all parts of the island to enjoy the delightful sport. Kauhi, the betrothed of Kahalaopuna, was one of these. The time set for his marriage to Kahalaopuna was drawing near, and as yet he had not seen her, when the assertions of the two makahelei men came to his ears. These were repeated so frequently that Kauhi finally came to believe them, and they so filled him with jealous rage of his betrothed that he determined to kill her. He started for Manoa at dawn, and proceeded as far as Mahinauli, in mid-valley, where he rested under a hala (Pandanus odoratissimus) tree that grew in the grove of wiliwili (Erythrina monosperma). He sat there some time, brooding over the fancied injury to himself, and nursing his wrath. Upon resuming his walk he broke off and carried along with him a bunch of hala nuts. It was quite noon when he reached Kahaiamano and presented himself before the house of Kahalaopuna. The latter had just awakened from a sleep, and was lying on a pile of mats facing the door, thinking of going to the spring, her usual bathing-place, when she perceived a stranger at the door.

She looked at him some time and, recognizing him from oft repeated descriptions, asked him to enter; but Kauhi refused, and asked her to come outside. The young girl had been so accustomed from early childhood to consider herself as belonging to Kauhi, and of being indebted to him, as it were, for her daily food, that she obeyed him unhesitatingly.

He perhaps intended to kill her then, but the girl’s unhesitating obedience as well as her extreme loveliness made him hesitate for a while; and after looking intently at her for some time he told her to go and bathe and then prepare herself to accompany him in a ramble about the woods.

While Kahalaopuna was bathing, Kauhi remained moodily seated where she had left him, and watched the bright glow, like rainbow rays, playing above the spring. He was alternately filled with jealousy, regret, and longing for the great beauty of the girl; but that did not make him relent in his dreadful purpose. He seemed to resent his betrothed’s supposed infidelity the more because she had thrown herself away on such unworthy persons, who were, besides, ugly and disfigured, while he, Kauhi, was not only a person of rank and distinction, but possessed also of considerable manly beauty.

When she was ready he motioned her to follow him, and turned to go without a word. They went across Kumakaha to Hualea, when the girl said, “Why don’t you stay and have something to eat before we go?”

He answered rather surlily, “I don’t care to eat; I have no appetite.”

He looked so sternly at her as he said this that she cried out to him, “Are you annoyed with me? Have I displeased you in any way?”

He only said, “Why, what have you done that would displease me?”

He kept on his way, she following, till they came to a large stone in Aihualama, when he turned abruptly and, facing the young girl, looked at her with an expression of mingled longing and hate. At last, with a deep sigh, he said, “You are beautiful, my betrothed, but, as you have been false, you must die.”

The young girl looked up in surprise at these strange words, but saw only hatred and a deadly purpose in Kauhi’s eyes; so she said: “If I have to die, why did you not kill me at home, so that my people could have buried my bones; but you brought me to the wild woods, and who will bury me? If you think I have been false to you, why not seek proof before believing it?”

But Kauhi would not listen to her appeal. Perhaps it only served to remind him of what he considered was his great loss. He struck her across the temple with the heavy bunch of hala nuts he had broken off at Mahinauli, and which he had been holding all the time. The blow killed the girl instantly, and Kauhi hastily dug a hole under the side of the rock and buried her; then he started down the valley toward Waikiki.

As soon as he was gone, a large owl, who was a god, and a relative of Kahalaopuna, and had followed her from home, immediately set to digging the body out; which done, it brushed the dirt carefully off with its wings and, breathing into the girl’s nostrils, restored her to life. It rubbed its face against the bruise on the temple, and healed it immediately. Kauhi had not advanced very far on his way when he heard the voice of Kahalaopuna singing a lament for his unkindness, and beseeching him to believe her, or, at least, prove his accusation.

Hearing her voice, Kauhi returned, and, seeing the owl flying above her, recognized the means of her resurrection; and, going up to the girl, ordered her to follow him. They went up the side of the ridge which divides Manoa Valley from Nuuanu. It was hard work for the tenderly nurtured maiden to climb the steep mountain ridge, at one time through a thorny tangle of underbrush, and at another clinging against the bare face of the rocks, holding on to swinging vines for support. Kauhi never offered to assist her, but kept on ahead, only looking back occasionally to see that she followed. When they arrived at the summit of the divide she was all scratched and bruised, and her pa-u (skirt) in tatters. Seating herself on a stone to regain her breath, she asked Kauhi where they were going. He never answered, but struck her again with the hala branch, killing her instantly, as before. He then dug a hole near where she lay, and buried her, and started for Waikiki by way of the Kakea ridge. He was no sooner out of sight than the owl again scratched the dirt away and restored the girl, as before. Again she followed and sang a song of love and regret for her lover’s anger, and pleaded with him to lay aside his unjust suspicions. On hearing her voice again, Kauhi returned and ordered her to follow him. They descended into Nuuanu Valley, at Kaniakapupu, and crossed over to Waolani ridge, where he again killed and buried the faithful girl, who was again restored by the owl. When he was on his way back, as before, she sang a song, describing the perils and difficulties of the way traversed by them, and ended by pleading for pardon for the unknown fault. The wretched man, on hearing her voice again, was very angry; and his repeated acts of cruelty and the suffering endured by the girl, far from softening his heart, only served to render him more brutal, and to extinguish what little spark of kindly feeling he might have had originally. His only thought was to kill her for good, and thus obtain some satisfaction for his wasted poi and fish. He returned to her and ordered her, as before, to follow him, and started for Kilohana, at the head of Kalihi Valley, where he again killed her. She was again restored by the owl, and made her resurrection known by singing to her cruel lover. He this time took her across gulches, ravines, and plains, until they arrived at Pohakea, on the Ewa slope of the Kaala Mountains, where he killed her and buried her under a large koa (Acacia koa). The faithful owl tried to scrape the dirt away, so as to get at the body of the girl, but his claws became entangled in the numerous roots and rootlets which Kauhi had been careful not to cut away. The more the owl scratched, the more deeply tangled he got, and, finally, with bruised claws and ruffled feathers, he had to give up the idea of rescuing the girl; and perhaps he thought it useless, as she would be sure to make her resurrection known to Kauhi. So the owl left, and followed Kauhi on his return to Waikiki.

There had been another witness to Kauhi’s cruelties, and that was Elepaio (Chasiempis sandwichensis), a little green bird, a cousin to Kahalaopuna. As soon as this bird saw that the owl had deserted the body of Kahalaopuna, it flew straight to Kahaukani and Kauakuahine, and told them of all that had happened. The girl had been missed, but, as some of the servants had recognized Kauhi, and had seen them leave together for what they supposed was a ramble in the adjoining woods, no great anxiety had been felt, as yet. But when the little bird told his tale, there was great consternation, and even positive disbelief; for, how could any one in his senses, they argued, be guilty of such cruelty to such a lovely, innocent being, and one, too, belonging entirely to himself.

In the meantime, the spirit of the murdered girl discovered itself to a party who were passing by; and one of them, a young man, moved with compassion, went to the tree indicated by the spirit, and, removing the dirt and roots, found the body, still warm. He wrapped it in his kihei (shoulder scarf), and then covered it entirely with maile, ferns, and ginger, and, making a haawe, or back-load, of it, carried it to his home at Kamoiliili. There, he submitted the body to his elder brother, who called upon two spirit sisters of theirs, with whose aid they finally succeeded in restoring it to life. In the course of the treatment she was frequently taken to an underground water-cave, called Mauoki, for the Kakelekele (hydropathic cure). The water-cave has ever since been known as the “Water of Kahalaopuna.”

The young man who had rescued her from the grave naturally wanted her to become his bride; but the girl refused, saying that as long as Kauhi lived she was his, and none other’s, as her very body was, as it were, nourished on his food, and was as much his property as the food had been.

The elder brother then counselled the younger to seek, in some way, the death of Kauhi. To this end they conspired with the parents of Kahalaopuna to keep her last resurrection secret. The young man then set to work to learn all the meles Kahalaopuna had sung to her lover during that fatal journey. When he knew these songs well, he sought the kilu (play, or game) houses of the King and high chiefs, where Kauhi was sure to be found.

One day, when Kauhi was playing, this young man placed himself on the opposite side, and as Kauhi ceased, took up the kilu and chanted the first of Kahalaopuna’s meles.

Kauhi was very much surprised, and contrary to the etiquette of the game of kilu, stopped him in his play to ask him where he had learned that song. The young man answered he had learned it from Kahalaopuna, the famous Manoa beauty, who was a friend of his sister’s and who was now on a visit at their house. Kauhi, knowing the owl had deserted the body of the girl, felt certain that she was really dead, and accused the other of telling a lie. This led to an angry and stormy scene, when the antagonists were parted by orders of the King.

The next night found them both at the kilu house, when the second of Kahalaopuna’s songs was sung, and another angry discussion took place. Again they were separated by others. On the third night, the third song having been sung, the dispute between the young men became so violent that Kauhi told the young man that the Kahalaopuna he knew must be an impostor, as the real person of that name was dead, to his certain knowledge. He dared him to produce the young woman whom he had been representing as Kahalaopuna; and should she not prove to be the genuine one then his life should be the forfeit, and on the other hand, if it should be the real one, then he, Kauhi, should be declared the liar and pay for his insults to the other with his life.

This was just what the young man had been scheming to compass, and he quickly assented to the challenge, calling on the King and chiefs to take notice of the terms of agreement, and to see that they were enforced.

On the appointed day Kahalaopuna went to Waikiki, attended by her parents, relatives, servants, and the two spirit sisters, who had assumed human form for that day so as to accompany their friend and advise her in case of necessity. Akaaka, the grandfather, who had been residing in Waikiki some little time previous to the dispute between the young men, was appointed one of the judges at the approaching trial.

Kauhi had consulted the priests and sorcerers of his family as to the possibility of the murdered girl having assumed human shape for the purpose of working him some injury. Kaea, a famous priest and seer of his family, told him to have the large leaves of the a-pe (Calladium costatum) spread where Kahalaopuna and party were to be seated. If she was a spirit, she would not be able to tear the a-pe leaf on which she would be seated, but if human, the leaf or leaves would be torn. With the permission of the King, this was done. The latter, surrounded by the highest chiefs and a vast assemblage from all parts of the island, was there to witness the test.

When Kahalaopuna and party were on the road to the scene of the test, her spirit friends informed her of the a-pe leaves, and advised her to trample on them so as to tear them as much as possible, as they, being spirits, would be unable to tear the leaves on which they should be seated, and if any one’s attention were drawn to them, they would be found out and killed by the poe po-i uhane (spirit catchers).

The young girl faithfully performed what was required of her. Kaea, on seeing the torn leaves, remarked that she was evidently human, but that he felt the presence of spirits, and would watch for them, feeling sure they were in some way connected with the girl. Akaaka then told him to look in a calabash of water, when he would in all probability see the spirits. The seer, in his eagerness to unravel the mystery, forgot his usual caution and ordered a vessel of water to be brought, and, looking in, he saw only his own reflection. Akaaka at that moment caught the reflection of the seer (which was his spirit), and crushed it between his palms, and at that moment the seer dropped down dead. Akaaka now turned around and opened his arms and embraced Kahalaopuna, thus acknowledging her as his own beloved granddaughter.

The King now demanded of the girl and of Kauhi an account of all that had happened between them, and of the reported death of the maiden. They both told their stories, Kauhi ascribing his anger to hearing the assertions of the two disfigured men, Kumauna and Keawaa. These two, on being confronted with the girl, acknowledged never having seen her before, and that all their words had been idle boastings. The King then said: “As your fun has cost this innocent girl so much suffering, it is my will that you two and Kauhi suffer death at once, as a matter of justice; and if your gods are powerful enough to restore you, so much the better for you.”

Two large imus (ground ovens) had been heated by the followers of the young men, in anticipation of the possible fate of either, and Kauhi, with the two mischief-makers and such of their respective followers and retainers as preferred to die with their chiefs, were baked therein.

The greater number of Kauhi’s people were so incensed with his cruelty to the lovely young girl that they transferred their allegiance to her, offering themselves for her vassals as restitution, in a measure, for the undeserved sufferings borne by her at the hands of their cruel chief.

The King gave her for a bride to the young man who had not only saved her, but had been the means of avenging her wrongs.

The imus in which Kauhi and his companions were baked were on the side of the stream of Apuakehau, in the famous Ulukou grove, and very near the sea. The night following, a great tidal wave, sent in by a powerful old shark god, a relative of Kauhi’s, swept over the site of the two ovens, and in the morning it was seen that their contents had disappeared. The bones had been taken by the old shark into the sea. The chiefs, Kumauna and Keawaa, were, through the power of their family gods, transformed into the two mountain peaks on the eastern corner of Manoa Valley, while Kauhi and his followers were turned into sharks.

Kahalaopuna lived happily with her husband for about two years. Her grandfather, knowing of Kauhi’s transformation, and aware of his vindictive nature, strictly forbade her from ever going into the sea. She remembered and heeded the warning during those years, but one day, her husband and all their men having gone to Manoa to cultivate kalo (Colocasia antiquorum), she was left alone with her maid servants.

The surf on that day was in fine sporting condition, and a number of young women were surf-riding, and Kahalaopuna longed to be with them. Forgetting the warning, as soon as her mother fell asleep she slipped out with one of her maids and swam out on a surf-board. This was Kauhi’s opportunity, and as soon as she was fairly outside the reef he bit her in two and held the upper half of the body up out of the water, so that all the surf-bathers would see and know that he had at last obtained his revenge.

Immediately on her death the spirit of the young woman went back and told her sleeping mother of what had befallen her. The latter woke up, and, missing her, gave the alarm. This was soon confirmed by the terrified surf-bathers, who had all fled ashore at seeing the terrible fate of Kahalaopuna. Canoes were launched and manned, and chase given to the shark and his prey, which could be easily tracked by the blood.

He swam just far enough below the surface of the water to be visible, and yet too far to be reached with effect by the fishing-spears of the pursuers. He led them a long chase to Waianae; then, in a sandy opening in the bottom of the sea, where everything was visible to the pursuers, he ate up the young woman, so that she could never again be restored to this life.

Her parents, on hearing of her end, retired to Manoa Valley, and gave up their human life, resolving themselves into their supernatural elements. Kahaukani, the father, is known as the Manoa wind, but his usual and visible form is the grove of ha-u (hibiscus) trees, below Kahaiamano. Kauakuahine, the mother, assumed her rain form, and is very often to be met with about the former home of her beloved child.

The grandparents also gave up their human forms, and returned, the one to his mountain form, and the other into the lehua bushes still to be met with on the very brow of the hill, where they keep watch over the old home of their petted and adored grandchild.

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Hiku and Kawelu

Hiku, a demigod raised on Hawaii’s Hualalai mountain, defied his mother’s warnings to explore the plains, where he fell in love with the princess Kawelu. After leaving her, she died of grief. Overcome with guilt, Hiku descended into the netherworld, retrieved her spirit, and revived her through a daring ritual. Reunited, the couple’s love brought joy to their community.

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

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: Hiku’s descent into the netherworld to retrieve Kawelu’s spirit represents a voyage into a realm beyond human experience.

Resurrection: The act of bringing Kawelu back to life after her death exemplifies the theme of returning from death or destruction.

Transformation through Love: The profound impact of Hiku and Kawelu’s love leads to significant changes, culminating in Kawelu’s revival and their reunion.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians

by J.S. Emerson

Not far from the summit of Hualalai, on the island of Hawaii, in the cave on the southern side of the ridge, lived Hina and her son, the kupua, or demigod, Hiku. All his life long as a child and a youth, Hiku had lived alone with his mother on this mountain summit, and had never once been permitted to descend to the plains below to see the abodes of men and to learn of their ways. From time to time, his quick ear had caught the sound of the distant hula (drum) and the voices of the merrymakers. Often had he wished to see the fair forms of those who danced and sang in those far-off cocoanut groves. But his mother, more experienced in the ways of the world, had never given her consent.

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Now, at length, he felt that he was a man, and as the sounds of mirth arose on his ears, again he asked his mother to let him go for himself and mingle with the people on the shore. His mother, seeing that his mind was made up to go, reluctantly gave her consent and warned him not to stay too long, but to return in good time. So, taking in his hand his faithful arrow, Pua Ne, which he always carried, he started off.

This arrow was a sort of talisman, possessed of marvellous powers, among which were the ability to answer his call and by its flight to direct his journey.

Thus he descended over the rough clinker lava and through the groves of koa that cover the southwestern flank of the mountain, until, nearing its base, he stood on a distant hill; and consulting his arrow, he shot it far into the air, watching its bird-like flight until it struck on a distant hill above Kailua. To this hill he rapidly directed his steps, and, picking up his arrow in due time, he again shot it into the air. The second flight landed the arrow near the coast of Holualoa, some six or eight miles south of Kailua. It struck on a barren waste of pahoehoe, or lava rock, beside the waterhole of Waikalai, known also as the Wai a Hiku (Water of Hiku), where to this day all the people of that vicinity go to get their water for man and beast.

Here he quenched his thirst, and nearing the village of Holualoa, again shot the arrow, which, instinct with life, entered the courtyard of the alii or chief, of Kona, and from among the women who were there singled out the fair princess Kawelu, and landed at her feet. Seeing the noble bearing of Hiku as he approached to claim his arrow, she stealthily hid it and challenged him to find it. Then Hiku called to the arrow, “Pua ne! Pua ne!” and the arrow replied, “Ne!” thus revealing its hiding-place.

This exploit with the arrow and the remarkable grace and personal beauty of the young man quite won the heart of the princess, and she was soon possessed by a strong passion for him, and determined to make him her husband.

With her wily arts she detained him for several days at her home, and when at last he was about to start for the mountain, she shut him up in the house and thus detained him by force. But the words of his mother, warning him not to remain too long, came to his mind, and he determined to break away from his prison. So he climbed up to the roof, and removing a portion of the thatch, made his escape.

When his flight was discovered by Kawelu, the infatuated girl was distracted with grief. Refusing to be comforted, she tasted no food, and ere many days had passed was quite dead. Messengers were despatched who brought back the unhappy Hiku, author of all this sorrow. Bitterly he wept over the corpse of his beloved, but it was now too late; the spirit had departed to the nether world, ruled over by Milu. And now, stung by the reproaches of her kindred and friends for his desertion, and urged on by his real love for the fair one, he resolved to attempt the perilous descent into the nether world and, if possible, to bring her spirit back.

With the assistance of her friends, he collected from the mountain slope a great quantity of the kowali, or convolvulus vine. He also prepared a hollow cocoanut shell, splitting it into two closely fitting parts. Then anointing himself with a mixture of rancid cocoanut and kukui oil, which gave him a very strong corpse-like odor, he started with his companions in the well-loaded canoes for a point in the sea where the sky comes down to meet the water.

Arrived at the spot, he directed his comrades to lower him into the abyss called by the Hawaiians the Lua o Milu. Taking with him his cocoanut-shell and seating himself astride of the cross-stick of the swing, or kowali, he was quickly lowered down by the long rope of kowali vines held by his friends in the canoe above.

Soon he entered the great cavern where the shades of the departed were gathered together. As he came among them, their curiosity was aroused to learn who he was. And he heard many remarks, such as “Whew! what an odor this corpse emits!” “He must have been long dead.” He had rather overdone the matter of the rancid oil. Even Milu himself, as he sat on the bank watching the crowd, was completely deceived by the stratagem, for otherwise he never would have permitted this bold descent of a living man into his gloomy abode.

The Hawaiian swing, it should be remarked, unlike ours, has but one rope supporting the cross-stick on which the person is seated. Hiku and his swing attracted considerable attention from the lookers-on. One shade in particular watched him most intently; it was his sweetheart, Kawelu. A mutual recognition took place, and with the permission of Milu she darted up to him and swung with him on the kowali. But even she had to avert her face on account of his corpse-like odor. As they were enjoying together this favorite Hawaiian pastime of lele kowali, by a preconcerted signal the friends above were informed of the success of his ruse and were now rapidly drawing them up. At first she was too much absorbed in the sport to notice this. When at length her attention was aroused by seeing the great distance of those beneath her, like a butterfly she was about to flit away, when the crafty Hiku, who was ever on the alert, clapped the cocoanut-shells together, imprisoning her within them, and was then quickly drawn up to the canoes above.

With their precious burden, they returned to the shores of Holualoa, where Hiku landed and at once repaired to the house where still lay the body of his beloved. Kneeling by its side, he made a hole in the great toe of the left foot, into which with great difficulty he forced the reluctant spirit, and in spite of its desperate struggles he tied up the wound so that it could not escape from the cold, clammy flesh in which it was now imprisoned. Then he began to lomilomi, or rub and chafe the foot, working the spirit further and further up the limb.

Gradually, as the heart was reached, the blood began once more to flow through the body, the chest began gently to heave with the breath of life, and soon the spirit gazed out through the eyes. Kawelu was now restored to consciousness, and seeing her beloved Hiku bending tenderly over her, she opened her lips and said: “How could you be so cruel as to leave me?”

All remembrance of the Lua o Milu and of her meeting him there had disappeared, and she took up the thread of consciousness just where she had left it a few days before at death. Great joy filled the hearts of the people of Holualoa as they welcomed back to their midst the fair Kawelu and the hero, Hiku, from whom she was no more to be separated.

Location of the Lua o Milu

In the myth of Hiku and Kawelu, the entrance to the Lua o Milu is placed out to sea opposite Holualoa and a few miles south of Kailua. But the more usual account of the natives is, that it was situated at the mouth of the great valley of Waipio, in a place called Keoni, where the sands have long since covered up and concealed from view this passage from the upper to the nether world.

Every year, so it is told, the procession of ghosts called by the natives Oio, marches in solemn state down the Mahiki road, and at this point enters the Lua o Milu. A man, recently living in Waimea, of the best reputation for veracity, stated that about thirty or more years ago, he actually saw this ghostly company. He was walking up this road in the evening, when he saw at a distance the Oio appear, and knowing that should they encounter him his death would be inevitable, he discreetly hid himself behind a tree and, trembling with fear, gazed in silence at the dread spectacle. There was Kamehameha, the conqueror, with all his chiefs and warriors in military array, thousands of heroes who had won renown in the olden time. Though all were silent as the grave, they kept perfect step as they marched along, and passing through the woods down to Waipio, disappeared from his view.

In connection with the foregoing, Professor W. D. Alexander kindly contributes the following:

“The valley of Waipio is a place frequently celebrated in the songs and traditions of Hawaii, as having been the abode of Akea and Milu, the first kings of the island….

“Some said that the souls of the departed went to the Po (place of night), and were annihilated or eaten by the gods there. Others said that some went to the regions of Akea and Milu. Akea (Wakea), they said, was the first king of Hawaii. At the expiration of his reign, which terminated with his life at Waipio, where we then were, he descended to a region far below, called Kapapahanaumoku (the island bearing rock or stratum), and founded a kingdom there. Milu, who was his successor, and reigned in Hamakua, descended, when he died, to Akea and shared the government of the place with him. Their land is a place of darkness; their food lizards and butterflies. There are several streams of water, of which they drink, and some said that there were large kahilis and wide-spreading kou trees, beneath which they reclined.”

“They had some very indistinct notion of a future state of happiness and of misery. They said that, after death, the ghost went first to the region of Wakea, the name of their first reputed progenitor, and if it had observed the religious rites and ceremonies, was entertained and allowed to remain there. That was a place of houses, comforts, and pleasures. If the soul had failed to be religious, it found no one there to entertain it, and was forced to take a desperate leap into a place of misery below, called Milu.

“There were several precipices, from the verge of which the unhappy ghosts were supposed to take the leap into the region of woe; three in particular, one at the northern extremity of Hawaii, one at the western termination of Maui, and the third at the northern point of Oahu.”

Near the northwest point of Oahu is a rock called Leina Kauhane, where the souls of the dead descended into Hades. In New Zealand the same term, “Reinga” (the leaping place), is applied to the North Cape. The Marquesans have a similar belief in regard to the northermost island of their group, and apply the same term, “Reinga,” to their Avernus.

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The Grey Mare in the Garret

In 1400, during a plague in Cologne, Frau Richmodis von Aducht, presumed dead, was buried adorned with jewels. A sexton attempting theft was horrified when she revived. She returned home, astonishing her husband, while a mysterious incident involving their grey mare in the attic added intrigue. Richmodis lived happily after, her story immortalized in art and local lore, though these relics have since vanished.

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

Resurrection: Frau Richmodis von Aducht, presumed dead and buried, unexpectedly returns to life, exemplifying a literal return from death.

Illusion vs. Reality: The astonishing events challenge the perceptions of reality for those involved, blurring the line between what is real and what is imagined.

Community and Isolation: Frau Richmodis’s return from the grave alters her relationship with her community, highlighting themes of belonging and estrangement.

From the lore

Learn more about German Folklore

In the portal of the Church of the Apostles, near the new market in Cologne, hung a picture, the portraits of a certain Frau Richmodis von Aducht and her two children, of whom the following singular story is related. The picture was covered with a curtain which she worked with her own hands.

Her husband, Richmuth von Aducht, was, in the year of grace 1400, a rich burgomaster of Cologne, and lived at the sign of the Parroquet in the New Marckt. In that year a fearful plague desolated all quarters of the city. She fell sick of the pest, and, to all appearance, died.

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After the usual period had elapsed she was buried in the vaults of the Apostles’ Church. She was buried, as the custom then was, with her jewelled rings on her fingers, and most of her rich ornaments on her person. These tempted the cupidity of the sexton of the church. He argued with himself that they were no use to the corpse, and he determined to possess them. Accordingly he proceeded in the dead of night to the vault where she lay interred, and commenced the work of sacrilegious spoliation. He first unscrewed the coffin lid. He then removed it altogether, and proceeded to tear away the shroud which interposed between him and his prey. But what was his horror to perceive the corpse clasp her hands slowly together, then rise, and finally sit erect in the coffin. He was rooted to the earth. The corpse made as though it would step from its narrow bed, and the sexton fled, shrieking, through the vaults. The corpse followed, its long white shroud floating like a meteor in the dim light of the lamp, which, in his haste, he had forgotten. It was not until he reached his own door that he had sufficient courage to look behind him, and then, when he perceived no trace of his pursuer, the excitement which had sustained him so far subsided, and he sank senseless to the earth.

In the meantime Richmuth von Aducht, who had slept scarcely a moment since the death of his dear wife, was surprised by the voice of his old manservant, who rapped loudly at his chamber door, and told him to awake and come forth, for his mistress had arisen from the dead, and was then at the gate of the courtyard.

“Bah!” said he, rather pettishly, “go thy ways, Hans; you dream, or are mad, or drunk. What you see is quite impossible. I should as soon believe my old grey mare had got into the garret as that my wife was at the courtyard gate.”

Trot, trot, trot, trot, suddenly resounded high over his head.

“What’s that?” asked he of his servant.

“I know not,” replied the man, “an’ it be not your old grey mare in the garret.”

They descended in haste to the courtyard, and looked up to the window of the attic. Lo and behold! there was indeed the grey mare with her head poked out of the window, gazing down with her great eyes on her master and his man, and seeming to enjoy very much her exalted station, and their surprise at it.

Knock, knock, knock went the rapper of the street gate.

“It is my wife!” “It is my mistress!” exclaimed master and man in the same breath.

The door was quickly unfastened, and there, truly, stood the mistress of the mansion, enveloped in her shroud.

“Are you alive or dead?” exclaimed the astonished husband.

“Alive, my dear, but very cold,” she murmured faintly, her teeth chattering the while, as those of one in a fever chill; “help me to my chamber.”

He caught her in his arms and covered her with kisses. Then he bore her to her chamber, and called up the whole house to welcome and assist her. She suffered a little from fatigue and fright, but in a few days was very much recovered.

The thing became the talk of the town, and hundreds flocked daily to see, not alone the lady that was rescued from the grave in so remarkable a manner, but also the grey mare which had so strangely contrived to get into the garret.

The excellent lady lived long and happily with her husband, and at her death was laid once more in her old resting-place. The grey mare, after resting in the garret three days, was got down by means of scaffolding, safe and sound. She survived her mistress for some time, and was a general favourite in the city, and when she died her skin was stuffed, and placed in the arsenal as a curiosity. The sexton went mad with the fright he had sustained, and in a short time entered that bourn whence he had so unintentionally recovered the burgomaster’s wife.

Not only was this memorable circumstance commemorated in the Church of the Apostles, but it was also celebrated in bassi relievi figures on the walls of the burgomaster’s residence–the sign of the Parroquet in the New Marckt. The searcher after antiquities will, however, look in vain for either. They are not now to be found. Modern taste has defaced the porch where stood the one, and erected a shapeless structure on the site of the other.

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Lion Who Took a Woman’s Shape

A woman’s quest for food turns into a tragic and magical tale. After encountering a lion and enduring a deadly pursuit, she is devoured and replaced by the lion disguised in her skin. Her family discovers the deception, kills the lion, and miraculously revives the woman from her heart. Restored to life, she resumes her duties but chooses to remain unmarried.

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

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The lion uses disguise to infiltrate the woman’s household, highlighting themes of trickery.

Resurrection: The woman is miraculously revived from her heart after being devoured by the lion.

Family Dynamics: The story explores the interactions and bonds within the woman’s family, especially in their response to her disappearance and the lion’s deception.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Bushmen

Some Women, it is said, went out to seek roots and herbs and other wild food. On their way home they sat down and said, “Let us taste the food of the field.” Now they found that the food picked by one of them was sweet, while that of the others was bitter. The latter said to each other, “Look here! this Woman’s herbs are sweet.” Then they said to the owner of the sweet food, “Throw it away and seek for other.” So she threw away the food, and went to gather more. When she had collected a sufficient supply, she returned to join the other Women, but could not find them.

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She went therefore down to the river, where Hare sat lading water, and said to him, “Hare, give me some water that I may drink.” But he replied, “This is the cup out of which my uncle (Lion) and I alone may drink.”

She asked again: “Hare, draw water for me that I may drink.” But Hare made the same reply. Then she snatched the cup from him and drank, but he ran home to tell his uncle of the outrage which had been committed.

The Woman meanwhile replaced the cup and went away. After she had departed Lion came down, and, seeing her in the distance, pursued her on the road. When she turned round and saw him coming, she sang in the following manner:

“My mother, she would not let me seek herbs,
Herbs of the field, food from the field. Hoo!”

When Lion at last came up with the Woman, they hunted each other round a shrub. She wore many beads and arm-rings, and Lion said, “Let me put them on!” So she lent them to him, but he afterwards refused to return them to her.

They then hunted each other again round the shrub, till Lion fell down, and the Woman jumped upon him, and kept him there. Lion (uttering a form of conjuration) said:

“My Aunt! it is morning, and time to rise;
Pray, rise from me!”

She then rose from him, and they hunted again after each other round the shrub, till the Woman fell down, and Lion jumped upon her. She then addressed him:

“My Uncle! it is morning, and time to rise;
Pray, rise from me!”

He rose, of course, and they hunted each other again, till Lion fell a second time. When she jumped upon him he said:

“My Aunt! it is morning, and time to rise;
Pray, rise from me!”

They rose again and hunted after each other. The Woman at last fell down. But this time when she repeated the above conjuration, Lion said:

“Hè Kha! Is it morning, and time to rise?”

He then ate her, taking care, however, to leave her skin whole, which he put on, together with her dress and ornaments, so that he looked quite like a woman, and then went home to her kraal.

When this counterfeit woman arrived, her little sister, crying, said, “My sister, pour some milk out for me.” She answered, “I shall not pour you out any.” Then the Child addressed their Mother: “Mama, do pour out some for me.” The Mother of the kraal said, “Go to your sister, and let her give it to you!” The little Child said again to her sister, “Please, pour out for me!” She, however, repeated her refusal, saying, “I will not do it.” Then the Mother of the kraal said to the little One, “I refused to let her (the elder sister) seek herbs in the field, and I do not know what may have happened; go therefore to Hare, and ask him to pour out for you.”

So then Hare gave her some milk; but her elder sister said, “Come and share it with me.” The little Child then went to her sister with her bamboo (cup), and they both sucked the milk out of it. Whilst they were doing this, some milk was spilt on the little one’s hand, and the elder sister licked it up with her tongue, the roughness of which drew blood; this, too, the Woman licked up.

The little Child complained to her Mother: “Mama, sister pricks holes in me and sucks the blood.” The Mother said, “With what Lion’s nature your sister went the way that I forbade her, and returned, I do not know.”

Now the Cows arrived, and the elder sister cleansed the pails in order to milk them. But when she approached the Cows with a thong (in order to tie their fore-legs), they all refused to be milked by her.

Hare said, “Why do not you stand before the Cow?” She replied, “Hare, call your brother, and do you two stand before the Cow.” Her husband said, “What has come over her that the Cows refuse her? These are the same Cows she always milks.” The Mother (of the kraal) said, “What has happened this evening? These are Cows which she always milks without assistance. What can have affected her that she comes home as a woman with a Lion’s nature?”

The elder daughter then said to her Mother, “I shall not milk the Cows.” With these words she sat down. The Mother said therefore to Hare, “Bring me the bamboos, that I may milk. I do not know what has come over the girl.”

So the Mother herself milked the cows, and when she had done so, Hare brought the bamboos to the young wife’s house, where her husband was, but she (the wife) did not give him (her husband) anything to eat. But when at night time she fell asleep, they saw some of the Lion’s hair, which was hanging out where he had slipped on the Woman’s skin, and they cried, “Verily! this is quite another being. It is for this reason that the Cows refused to be milked.”

Then the people of the kraal began to break up the hut in which Lion lay asleep. When they took off the mats, they said (conjuring them), “If thou art favourably inclined to me, O Mat, give the sound ‘sawa'” (meaning, making no noise).

To the poles (on which the hut rested) they said, “If thou art favourably inclined to me, O Pole, thou must give the sound ‘gara.'”

They addressed also the bamboos and the bed-skins in a similar manner.

Thus gradually and noiselessly they removed the hut and all its contents. Then they took bunches of grass, put them over the Lion, and lighting them, said, “If thou art favourably inclined to me, O Fire, thou must flare up, ‘boo boo,’ before thou comest to the heart.”

So the Fire flared up when it came towards the heart, and the heart of the Woman jumped upon the ground. The Mother (of the kraal) picked it up, and put it into a calabash.

Lion, from his place in the fire, said to the Mother (of the kraal), “How nicely I have eaten your daughter.” The Woman answered, “You have also now a comfortable place!”

Now the Woman took the first milk of as many Cows as had calves, and put it into the calabash where her daughter’s heart was; the calabash increased in size, and in proportion to this the girl grew again inside it.

One day, when the Mother (of the kraal) went out to fetch wood, she said to Hare, “By the time that I come back you must have everything nice and clean.” But during her Mother’s absence, the girl crept out of the calabash, and put the hut in good order, as she had been used to do in former days, and said to Hare, “When Mother comes back and asks, ‘Who has done these things?’ you must say, ‘I, Hare, did them.'” After she had done all, she hid herself on the stage.

When the Mother of the kraal came home, she said, “Hare, who has done these things? They look just as they used when my daughter did them.” Hare said, “I did the things.” But the Mother would not believe it, and looked at the calabash. Seeing it was empty, she searched the stage and found her daughter. Then she embraced and kissed her, and from that day the girl stayed with her Mother, and did everything as she was wont in former times; but she now remained unmarried.

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