There had been a great famine in the land for many months. Meat had
become so scarce that only the rich chiefs had money enough to buy it.
The poor people were starving. Anansi and his family were in a
miserable state.
One day, Anansi’s eldest son—Kweku Tsin—to his great joy, discovered a
place in the forest where there were still many animals. Knowing his
father’s wicked ways, Kweku told him nothing of the matter. Anansi,
however, speedily discovered that Kweku was returning loaded, day after
day, to the village. There he was able to sell the meat at a good price
to the hungry villagers. Anansi immediately wanted to know the
secret—but his son wisely refused to tell him. The old man determined
to find out by a trick.
Slipping into his son’s room one night, when he was fast asleep, he cut
a tiny hole in the corner of the bag which Kweku always carried into
the forest. Anansi then put a quantity of ashes into the bag and
replaced it where he had found it.
Next morning, as Kweku set out for the forest, he threw the bag, as
usual, over his shoulder. Unknown to him, at each step, the ashes were
sprinkled on the ground. Consequently, when Anansi set out an hour
later he was easily able to follow his son by means of the trail of
ashes. He, too, arrived at the animals’ home in the forest, and found
Kweku there before him. He immediately drove his son away, saying that,
by the law of the land, the place belonged to him. Kweku saw how he had
been tricked, and determined to have the meat back.
He accordingly went home—made a tiny image and hung little bells round
its neck. He then tied a long thread to its head and returned toward
the hunting-place.
When about half-way there, he hung the image to a branch of a tree in
the path, and hid himself in the bushes near by—holding the other end
of the thread in his hand.
The greedy father, in the meantime, had killed as many animals as he
could find, being determined to become rich as speedily as possible. He
then skinned them and prepared the flesh—to carry it to the
neighbouring villages to sell. Taking the first load, he set off for
his own village. Half-way there, he came to the place where the image
hung in the way. Thinking this was one of the gods, he stopped. As he
approached, the image began to shake its head vigorously at him. He
felt that this meant that the gods were angry. To please them, he said
to the image, “May I give you a little of this meat?” Again the image
shook its head. “May I give you half of this meat?” he then inquired.
The head shook once more. “Do you want the whole of this meat?” he
shouted fiercely. This time the head nodded, as if the image were well
pleased. “I will not give you all my meat,” Anansi cried. At this the
image shook in every limb as if in a terrible temper. Anansi was so
frightened that he threw the whole load on the ground and ran away. As
he ran, he called back, “To-morrow I shall go to Ekubon—you will not be
able to take my meat from me there, you thief.”
But Kweku had heard where his father intended to go next day—and set
the image in his path as before. Again Anansi was obliged to leave his
whole load—and again he called out the name of the place where he would
go the following day.
The same thing occurred, day after day, till all the animals in the
wood were killed. By this time, Kweku Tsin had become very rich—but his
father Anansi was still very poor. He was obliged to go to Kweku’s
house every day for food.
When the famine was over, Kweku gave a great feast and invited the
entire village. While all were gathered together, Kweku told the story
of his father’s cunning and how it had been overcome. This caused great
merriment among the villagers. Anansi was so ashamed that he readily
promised Kweku to refrain from his evil tricks for the future. This
promise, however, he did not long keep.