There had been a long and severe famine in the land where Anansi lived.
He had been quite unable to obtain food for his poor wife and family.
One day, gazing desperately out to sea, he saw, rising from the midst
of the water, a tiny island with a tall palm-tree upon it. He
determined to reach this tree—if any means proved possible—and climb
it, in the hope of finding a few nuts to reward him. How to get there
was the difficulty.
This, however, solved itself when he reached the beach, for there lay
the means to his hand, in the shape of an old broken boat. It certainly
did not look very strong, but Anansi decided to try it.
His first six attempts were unsuccessful—a great wave dashed him back
on the beach each time he tried to put off. He was persevering,
however, and at the seventh trial was successful in getting away. He
steered the battered old boat as best he could, and at length reached
the palm-tree of his desire. Having tied the boat to the trunk of the
tree—which grew almost straight out of the water—he climbed toward the
nuts. Plucking all he could reach, he dropped them, one by one, down to
the boat. To his dismay, every one missed the boat and fell, instead,
into the water until only the last one remained. This he aimed even
more carefully than the others, but it also fell into the water and
disappeared from his hungry eyes. He had not tasted even one and now
all were gone.
He could not bear the thought of going home empty-handed, so, in his
despair, he threw himself into the water, too. To his complete
astonishment, instead of being drowned, he found himself standing on
the sea-bottom in front of a pretty little cottage. From the latter
came an old man, who asked Anansi what he wanted so badly that he had
come to Thunder’s cottage to seek it. Anansi told his tale of woe, and
Thunder showed himself most sympathetic.
He went into the cottage and fetched a fine cooking-pot, which he
presented to Anansi—telling him that he need never be hungry again. The
pot would always supply enough food for himself and his family. Anansi
was most grateful, and left Thunder with many thanks.
Being anxious to test the pot at once, Anansi only waited till he was
again seated in the old boat to say, “Pot, pot, what you used to do for
your master do now for me.” Immediately good food of all sorts
appeared. Anansi ate a hearty meal, which he very much enjoyed.
On reaching land again, his first thought was to run home and give all
his family a good meal from his wonderful pot. A selfish, greedy fear
prevented him. “What if I should use up all the magic of the pot on
them, and have nothing more left for myself! Better keep the pot a
secret—then I can enjoy a meal when I want one.” So, his mind full of
this thought, he hid the pot.
He reached home, pretending to be utterly worn out with fatigue and
hunger. There was not a grain of food to be had anywhere. His wife and
poor children were weak with want of it, but selfish Anansi took no
notice of that. He congratulated himself at the thought of his magic
pot, now safely hidden in his room. There he retired from time to time
when he felt hungry, and enjoyed a good meal. His family got thinner
and thinner, but he grew plumper and plumper. They began to suspect
some secret, and determined to find it out. His eldest son, Kweku Tsin,
had the power of changing himself into any shape he chose; so he took
the form of a tiny fly, and accompanied his father everywhere. At last,
Anansi, feeling hungry, entered his room and closed the door. Next he
took the pot, and had a fine meal. Having replaced the pot in its
hiding-place, he went out, on the pretence of looking for food.
As soon as he was safely out of sight, Kweku Tsin fetched out the pot
and called all his hungry family to come at once. They had as good a
meal as their father had had. When they had finished, Mrs. Anansi—to
punish her husband—said she would take the pot down to the village and
give everybody a meal. This she did—but alas! in working to prepare so
much food at one time, the pot grew too hot and melted away. What was
to be done now? Anansi would be so angry! His wife forbade every one to
mention the pot.
Anansi returned, ready for his supper, and, as usual, went into his
room, carefully shutting the door. He went to the hiding-place—it was
empty! He looked around in consternation. No pot was to be seen
anywhere. Some one must have discovered it. His family must be the
culprits; he would find a means to punish them.
Saying nothing to any one about the matter, he waited till morning. As
soon as it was light he started off towards the shore, where the old
boat lay. Getting into the boat, it started of its own accord and
glided swiftly over the water—straight for the palm-tree. Arrived
there, Anansi attached the boat as before and climbed the tree. This
time, unlike the last, the nuts almost fell into his hands. When he
aimed them at the boat they fell easily into it—not one, as before,
dropping into the water. He deliberately took them and threw them
overboard, immediately jumping after them. As before, he found himself
in front of Thunder’s cottage, with Thunder waiting to hear his tale.
This he told, the old man showing the same sympathy as he had
previously done.
This time, however, he presented Anansi with a fine stick and bade him
good-bye. Anansi could scarcely wait till he got into the boat—so
anxious was he to try the magic properties of his new gift. “Stick,
stick,” he said, “what you used to do for your master do for me also.”
The stick began to beat him so severely that, in a few minutes, he was
obliged to jump into the water and swim ashore, leaving boat and stick
to drift away where they pleased. Then he returned sorrowfully
homeward, bemoaning his many bruises and wishing he had acted more
wisely from the beginning.