In presenting to the public these stories based on the folk-lore of the
Gold Coast peoples, it seems necessary to say something in general
terms of the economic and social development of the colony in so far as
that development is affecting the ‘lore’ of the folk.
Not until the civilization and industrialism of Europe began to
penetrate into the districts of the Guinea Coast was any great attempt
made to study the folk-lore of these peoples. It is obvious, therefore,
that the student must find considerable admixture from outside sources
which the absence of a native system of writing and consequent
literature makes exceedingly difficult to detect. The difficulties
increase with time, for we are getting farther and farther from the
genuine folk-lore. Each year, from towns like Accra, Seccondee, and
Cape Coast the tentacles of European civilization are slowly extending
in all directions. Railways and roads are creeping out, old-fashioned
crudity is giving way to simpler and more expeditious methods; new
industries, as rubber and cocoa, are being established. [1] All this
must be borne in mind in studying the folk-lore as told by the native
to-day. What is happening is, unfortunately, not an awakening, but a
transformation. The negro is discarding his native cloth for a European
suit of clothes.
“On all sides it is reported that the demand for European provisions,
luxuries, and apparel is large and greatly increasing. The large
imports of tinned provisions, flour, etc., is in part due to the
scarcity of native food-stuffs in certain districts, but there is no
doubt that the standard of living is changing and rising.
“There is a general desire not only in the colony, but in Ashanti, for
better roads, better houses, cleaner villages, and the desire has been
prompted by the example of the great sanitary improvements in the
larger towns....
“It can be observed that the people take a growing pride in the
institutions and traditions of their country, that the chiefs are
realizing the duties and influence of their position, and that public
opinion, among the educated classes, at any rate, is beginning to
recognize that some advance on the ideals and standards of the past
must now be demanded.” [2]
This, from the utilitarian and Imperial standpoints, is as it should
be, but it tends to be fatal to the mythology, the customs, and the
traditions of such peoples as the negroes of West Africa. For this
change is not taking place only in the direction of mere materialism.
Christianity, entering the country through the ports, and
Mohammedanism, being carried by Haussas along the trade routes from the
interior, are playing their part in these psychological and
sociological changes. The negro of yesterday differs from the negro of
to-day as he in turn will differ from the negro of to-morrow. In view
of all this metamorphosis it is much to be regretted that the
geographical and linguistical difficulties have made the task of the
folk-lorist not only difficult but wellnigh impossible. Much, of
course, might be done if those whose duties carry them into the various
districts would take in hand the task. The collation of their results
might enable one to eradicate outside and recent influences and in a
measure get at “the back of the black man’s mind.”
The material in this book was collected in the following manner: The
new educational policy of the Government provided for a Training
Institution for Teachers at Accra. The first students to be admitted
were men who had already had some considerable experience in the
schools of their districts. They were, therefore, sufficiently familiar
with the English language to express themselves clearly and fluently.
At the same time they were men who could remember the time when the new
civilizing forces at present at work were not nearly so pronounced. By
obtaining from these students a variety of versions of the same story
it became possible to some extent to eradicate the superfluous and the
spurious.
The selection of tales has been carefully made, and in the retelling
and illustrating of the story the object has been to give the reader an
introduction to the thought and customs of the West African negro.
In order to produce the correct ‘atmosphere’ for the story, picture an
evening scene in a native village. The sun is nearing the western
horizon, seeming to fall like a huge ball behind the distant hills, the
air is cool, and a solemn stillness prevails. Even the noisy youths and
girls are quiet, and the time for tom-toms, crickets, bull-frogs, and
the miscellaneous instruments of man and Nature for the production of
the most weird and inharmonious of sounds is not yet. In the
compound—the courtyard round which are the family dwellings—the women
with their picin (children) on their backs are busy with mortar and
pestle making foo-foo (native food from maize). Squatting near the mud
walls, naked to the waist, their cloth forming but a covering for the
loins, are a number of men smoking short clay pipes and expectorating
in a most insanitary manner—a perfect picture of idleness. Naked
youngsters stand open-mouthed listening to the conversation of their
elders, or amuse themselves at hide-and-seek, marbles, or some other
native game.
The short twilight of the tropics brings all occupations except talking
to an end, and of talking there seems to be no end. Here and there some
one or other lies down, covers himself entirely with his cloth, and is
lost to the world.
A lantern is brought out, and unconsciously and imperceptibly it
becomes the centre of dark forms, relieved now and again by rows of
beautiful white teeth as the owners indulge in a hearty laugh. At times
conversation lags; some one drones a monotonous tune, others smoke in
quiet contemplation, while others again follow the example of the dark
human mounds scattered about the compound.
Suddenly, “Comrades, listen to a story.” At once the men, women, and
children press round the speaker, an eager crowd, ready to hear or to
tell the tales of their folk.
“All right, let it come.”
Thus commences another evening wherein the native recounts to his
neighbour for the hundredth time the stories handed down by tradition
from the dim ‘before-time.’ The native is a born raconteur, and his
stories are not the outcome of his imagination, but folk-lore modified
and ornamented perhaps to suit the particular audience or particular
circumstance. Some of these modifications which have assumed a more or
less permanent form are commented on below.
Throughout the Gold Coast Colony and Southern Ashanti the stories as
given by the various tribes are essentially the same. It may be that
further and more detailed investigation in the domain of folk-lore will
help to solve a very important ethnic problem, namely, whether the
coast tribes are or are not of the same stock as those of the
hinterland. It is generally accepted at present that “these people of
the West Coast were for the most part the broken fragments of races
that have been driven to the sea by the stronger races of the
interior.” [3] If this were so, then one would expect to find
differences in the folk-lore of the stronger and weaker races similar
to those between the folk-lore of the Celts and Anglo-Saxons. Actually,
this does not appear to be so, though at present the data is not
sufficient to enable one to form a definite opinion.
The following is from a recent work on the Gold Coast, and presents a
slightly different view from that in the quotation above: “The general
sum of these traditions [regarding the origin of the tribes] is that
the Fantis, Ashantis, Wassaws, and in fact all the Twi-[Tshi] speaking,
or Akan, peoples, were originally one tribe. They were a pastoral race
and inhabited the open country beyond the forest belt and farther north
than Salaga. A northern and lighter-skinned people, which is commonly
supposed to have been the Fulanis, commenced to encroach on their
territory, and, being stronger than they, seized their cattle and young
women and made many of the others slaves.... The subdivision of the
united Akan race into its main branches, the Fantis and Ashantis, is
variously accounted for.... One story very plausibly explains that the
constant raids of their northern enemy, who burned all the farms,
reduced the Akans to great straits for food. Some of them subsisted on
a wild plant named fan and others on a plant named shan, and thus
gained the names Fan-dti and Shan-dti (dti, to eat).” [4] A possible
alternative explanation is that the same stock occupies the coast and
the hinterland, and that differentiation has come about as the result
of malaria affecting that portion of the race inhabiting the region of
the lagoon marshes along the coastal plain. It has now been fairly well
established that malaria can and does have a deleterious effect on
races, and that even in the case of Greece and Rome the malarial factor
must be taken into account in discussing the causes which brought about
their fall. [5] It may be that the marshes round Salonica and the
swamps of the Campagna have their counterpart in the long line of
lagoon swamps that lie between the surf-wall and the forest wall of
‘the Coast.’ Medical science alone, perhaps, will be able to solve the
problem, but folk-lore can and does render valuable assistance toward a
solution. A conquered people do not give up their ‘lore’ with the land,
but carry their customs and traditions with them to their new homes.
There is one story which has a special interest in this connexion
because, after being carried by the negroes from Africa to the Southern
States in the slave days, it became the basis of a story which has
served to amuse the children and adults of the whole of the
English-speaking peoples, namely, The Wonderful Adventures of Old Brer
Rabbit. It is interesting to compare the tar-baby narrative with the
manner in which Anansi was caught in Story X.
From the scanty material we have at present, it would seem that the
folk-lores of the coastal and hinterland peoples are substantially the
same, the differences being traceable in many cases to the influence of
the new environment. Thus, in the story where Anansi seeks to hide the
wisdom of the world (Story II), which he has collected in a pot, among
the coast peoples he finds a difficulty in climbing up the palm-tree,
but among the forest tribes his difficulty is to get over the trunk of
a tree which has fallen across the bush-path. Here the difference is
due to environment and not to race.
It is necessary to point out that similarity of story cannot by itself
be taken as indicative of similarity of race. Indeed, so common is it
to find the same story told by people of varying types and in every
stage of progress that it has opened up a problem of great importance.
Have such stories originated from a common source? and, if so, where
may the common origin be found? Or are folk-stories like the material
productions of the races, i.e. do they follow a more or less common
line of development? [6] What connexion can there be, for example,
between the negro of the Gold Coast and the Serb? Yet they have a story
remarkably similar. In the story of Ohia (Story XIX) the power of
understanding the language of animals was given him on condition that
he should not disclose the secret to any human being under pain of
death. This knowledge often gave him occasion for laughter, and at such
times his wife, ignorant of the cause, became angered and suspicious.
She demanded to know the reason for such outbursts, and at last her
importunity resulted in the telling of the secret, and consequent death
of the man. In the Serbian story [7] the dénouement is somewhat
different, comedy taking the place of tragedy. The man when just about
to yield his life to satisfy the curiosity of his wife listens to the
cock, who declares that he can manage to keep his hundred wives in
order by giving them a good peck when they need it. The man accordingly
leaves his coffin and brings his wife to reason and her knees by a
well-administered chastisement. How came these two peoples to have a
story with so many features in common? Is it possible that the Turk and
the Moor may have provided links?
It may not be out of place here to mention the effect of the contact of
the slave-trading Europeans on the folk-lore of the Coast negroes. The
grim white castles every few miles along the whole of the Guinea Coast
stand as stern reminders of the time when the helpless coastal tribes
were raided and men, women, and children sold into slavery. But one who
has conversed with the native of to-day cannot doubt that the greatest
effect of those terrible days is discernible in the native mentality
itself. It has, as one might expect, influenced more or less the
folk-story. Here, for example, is one type of influence:
“When the Portuguese first landed, the natives betook themselves to the
forest. When the white man had put off again the natives crept
cautiously back to the beach. To their great surprise they found there
a basin full of rum. One of them, by name Mbura, tasted some, and
finding that it was sweet, drank as much as he could and became
intoxicated. Others did the same, and when many of them were helpless
the boatmen returned and carried them off. On account of the rum being
tasted by Mbura, we call rum in Fantee Mbura-nsa—i.e. Mbura’s wine.”
[8]
Even more remarkable is the origin of the god Nyankupon, who figures
largely in both mythology and folk-lore. Many stories introduce
Nyankupon, and yet he is no native god at all.
“After an intercourse of some years with Europeans, the Tshi-speaking
inhabitants of the towns and villages in the vicinity of the various
forts added to their system of polytheism a new deity whom they termed
Nana-Nyankupon—sometimes called simply Nyankupon. This was the god of
the Christians, borrowed from them and adopted under a new designation.
The great superiority manifested by the whites in their weapons, ships,
manufactures—in short, in everything—convinced the natives with whom
they had intercourse that they must necessarily be protected by a deity
of greater power than any of those to which they themselves offered
sacrifice, since their own deities had not, except very remotely,
helped them to attain any such prosperity. They therefore gladly
enrolled themselves amongst the followers of the god of the whites, and
being informed that he dwelt in the heavens above, they denominated him
Nana-Nyankupon, which may be freely translated ‘Lord of the Sky.’” [9]
The Gold Coast folk-stories are readily divisible into two groups,
Anansi and non-Anansi tales. Anánsi is the spider, and with him is
generally associated his son, Kweku Tsin (Tsĩ). Why so many spider
stories? No satisfactory explanation can as yet be given. It cannot be
due entirely to the superabundance of spiders in native dwellings and
surroundings, for other tribes along the Coast seem to concentrate on
other creatures, as the elephant and the tortoise. Nor does there seem
to be sufficient evidence to trace the origin to totemism. No doubt
many of the Anansi stories as told to-day are due to observation of the
ways and peculiar characteristics of the spider, and are an attempt to
explain the why and the wherefore. And generally it is decided that he
is a wise, cunning, deceitful creature who scampers off to hide in the
ceiling because he has done something to be ashamed of and has,
unfortunately, been found out. Here are two comments from folk-stories
on Anansi:
“The wisdom of the spider is greater than that of all the world
together.”
“Woe to one who would put his trust in Anansi—a sly, selfish, and
greedy person.”
The non-Anansi stories are generally of the ‘Just-so’ type—why the ears
of the deer are long, why the waist of the wasp is slim, etc. There is
nothing in the wide realm of botany, astronomy, or geography of a
peculiar or striking character but an explanation is forthcoming in the
lore of the folk. There is, of course, the usual sprinkling of magic
tales, which bear a striking resemblance to many European märchen, or
fairy-tales.
In conclusion, an apology must be offered to the scientific
folk-lorist. The stories have been retold in order to appeal to a wider
public, but it is hoped that ere long the complete original material
may be available for the student of folk-lore.