A BACK-YARD KITCHEN
Sobah had gone with his boat on a trading trip to Freetown, but he was
a thoughtful husband and father, and had left a generous supply of rice
and dried fish.
Mammy Mamenah and Konah were leisurely preparing their evening meal,
for once alone. No, not entirely alone, for in their kitchen, which
was also the back-yard, was gathered just at this time a strangely
assorted group of creatures more or less intimately connected with the
household. By mutual consent, some precedence of rights seemed to be
granted to the two human beings, but they did not seem to be inclined
to exercise their rights to any oppressive degree. In dress and bearing
they were almost as simple and blissfully unconscious as the other
creatures that shared their back-yard space with them. Konah's sole
attire was a string of beads fastened around her waist, while Mammy
Mamenah had the conventional piece of cloth, three feet wide, wrapped
around her body, tucked deftly beneath her arms, and extending to
her knees. Chickens roamed over the place with the air of rightful
ownership. Goats nibbled the bits of grass that grew around the edge of
the bare spot, and climbed over or peered into anything that appealed
to their curiosity. A monkey, limited in his activities by the length
of string fastened around his slender body, was going through various
evolutions in the endeavor to reach the tail feathers of a parrot that
was shrilly scolding at a mangy little dog. The furnishings of the
kitchen were few and simple in the extreme. The stove consisted of
three stones so arranged as to support a pot of rice, and at the same
time to allow a fire to be kindled beneath. A large pot for the rice, a
smaller one for the stew, some calabashes and a large mortar and pestle
for pounding the rice, completed the outfit. The rice had been set to
boil, and Mammy Mamenah had nothing to do but wait for it to cook.
She had seated herself upon one end of a small log, the other end of
which was in the fire. Konah had squatted upon the ground in front of
her mother, and by artful and suggestive questions was endeavoring to
draw out a story about some of her animal friends. A heathen mother
does not concern herself about the pleasure of her child, and takes no
trouble for the child's happiness, unless there is some amusement in it
for herself, but Konah was the third child, the two older ones having
died of small-pox, and on that account was treated more nearly with
indulgence than were other children. A spirit of comradeship, almost of
affection, had grown up between this black mother and her story-loving
child. The many hours they had passed together had tended to deepen the
feeling of fellowship and sympathy.
Finally Konah put her desire in the form of a direct entreaty, 'Mammy,
do yah (please) pull story.'
In response Mammy Mamenah drew the child's head down upon her lap, and,
loosening the kinky wool, proceeded to replait it in innumerable little
braids that caused the jet-black hair on the shapely head to stand out
in regular rows like the ridges of a cantaloupe.
"'Yo' lek story too much,' she said reprovingly; then, repenting almost
immediately, added: 'Wey t'ing yo' wan'?'
The question was unnecessary, for the child's very pronounced
preference for Cunning Rabbit, above all the creatures of her fairy
world, was well known to her mother. So in a low crooning voice she
began the story of
CUNNING RABBIT AND HIS WELL.
"Long tem, Cunnie Rabbit en all dem beef bin gadder. Den meet up to one
place fo' talk palaver, because de country dry too much. Dey no get one
grain (drop) wattah sotay (until) all man wan' fo' die. Dey all get
word fo' talk, f'om de big beef to de small, but nobody no able fo'
fine sense fo' pull dem f'om dis yeah big trouble. Cunnie Rabbit he no
bin say notting, he jus' listen wey dem beef talk; he t'ink say: 'Wey
ting I go do fo' get wattah?'
"Bimeby he grap (get up), he go home, he begin fo' dig well. He dig, he
dig, he _dig_. De wattah come plenty. He drink sotay (until) he done
satisfy.
[Illustration: Cunning Rabbit and his well.
[_See p. 80._]
]
"Now dem beef hearee dat Cunnie Rabbit get well. Spider he grap fo' go
walker to Cunnie Rabbit. He say:
"'Fren', we no get one grain wattah fo' drink, we go die. Make yo' gie
we.
"Cunnie Rabbit tell um, he say:
"'De pusson wey wan' make me gie um wattah, make he come fet me.'
"Spider say: 'All ret.'
"Now Spider en Cunnie Rabbit dey fet. Cunnie Rabbit hase (raise) Spider
up to dah sky. He come down, he lay down flat. He grap (get up), he
hase Cunnie Rabbit up. Cunnie Rabbit go to de sky; he blow one horn
wey (which) he hole nah (in) he han'. W'en he blow um dark come, w'en
he blow um agin, do' clean.[11] He fa' down, he grip de wuld, VIP! He
han' long, dey go inside de groun'. Cunnie Rabbit get up back, he hase
Spider up. One rainy season, one dry season he stay 'pon top de sky.
W'en he come down, w'en he too fa' down 'pon de groun', he say: 'Ee!
Ee! Ee! Fren', I no able agin. Den he shake Cunnie Rabbit he han'; he
say: 'Oonah (you) 'trong man.'"
[11] When into the darkness of a mud hut the first rays of dawn
penetrate sufficiently to afford from within a clear-cut outline of the
door-way, the time is designated by "do' clean."
To the recital of this very extraordinary combat between two very
unusual people, Konah had been listening so intently that her restless
limbs forgot to move, and her breathing was partly suspended. A
movement of relief at this point in the narrative, and a long sigh
of satisfaction at the sensible outcome of the contest, showed that
her sympathy with the characters of the story was warm and real.
She shifted her position, stooped to pull a chigger from one of her
little black toes, then curled her head down on the other side for the
comfortable enjoyment of the tale, which was continued while the tiny
braids took form under the mother's deft fingers. The resumption of the
story was delayed just a little; for two children, Konah's playmates,
catching the echo of a story through the open door of the hut, came to
share the pleasure. Mamenah, finding more amusement in entertaining a
larger audience, proceeded with greater energy.
"Dem beef all come, dey try, dey no able. Elephan' come, he say:
"'Wey de man wey say he de mos' 'trong? Make he come one tem, make we
fet, so I go take wattah. I too t'irst.'
"Cunnie Rabbit come, he boas', he say: 'Nar (it is) _me_ dis.'
"Elephan' take he long mout', he wrap Cunnie Rabbit, he wrap um 'trong.
He fling um, turn, turn um, he hebe um up, so he jam to de sky. De
sweat wey he bin sweat, dat nar de hair 'pon heen skin. Cunnie Rabbit
come, he 'tan' up, he hase de Elephan' up."
"Cunnie Rabbit wey leelee so," chuckled Konah, unable to restrain her
satisfaction at the prowess of her hero, but the interruption was
unnoted.
"Elephan' heen long mout' come nah groun', he wrap den 'tick fo' hole
hese'f, he broke um w'en he go up. He say: 'Cunnie Rabbit wey leelee
so, nar _he_ do me so?'
"He hole Cunnie Rabbit wid heen long mout' agin, he drag um, he make
big noise 'pon de groun' w'en he drag um. He pin Cunnie Rabbit down;
den (they) fet, den fet, den fet. De place wey den fet he big pass
(bigger than) dis town, he double um four tem fo' big. Dey fet tay
(till) fiah ketch dah place. Dah one wey box he cumpin, fiah ketch; dah
odder one wey box he cumpin, fiah ketch. De place he bu'n clean, so-so
san'-san' (sand) lef' no mo'."[12]
[12] "So-so san'-san' lef' no mo'," _i.e._ merely sand was left, nothing
more. The fire kindled by the terrible combat had consumed everything
combustible. This is a characteristic African hyperbole. See also the
much exaggerated statement of the space covered by the combat, and
of the size of the cup that each animal was required to empty at one
draught.
Here the narrator's voice, momentarily pitched to a higher key,
exclaimed: "Make yo' dribe dem goat, dey do rascal trick;" and the
child, only less nimble than the goats, drove with an 'Ah! hey!' an
inquisitive one from dangerous proximity to the greens, made ready to
be put into the stew. The animal retreated to a short distance, with
an air that indicated contemplated return at the first opportunity,
while Konah turned a calabash over the greens, pushed the log further
into the fire, and sat down to pick into bits the dried fish, so that
her mother might be left to do uninterrupted justice to the marvellous
contest of "dem beef."
"Well, dem beef dey all duh try, dey no know how fo' do. Dey all go
make bargain. All dem beef dey pull (bring) plenty clo'es, so plenty
dey done full dis town heah, dey full Freetown. En dis yeah clo'es
dey gie um all to Cunnie Rabbit. Dey say: '_Do_;[13] ef yo' no gie we
wattah we go die.'
[13] "Do," often accompanied by a low cringing inclination of the body
and clasped hands, is a very strong form of entreaty.
"Cunnie Rabbit say: 'All ret. Make all man take one one cup wattah
drink.'
"But de bargain _dis_. Ef de pusson no done _all_, he fo' take one
piece clot' en gie um to Cunnie Rabbit, en say: 'Dis nar fo' de wattah
weh I wais.' De cup he cover dis whole town, he cover 'Merica, he cover
Englan', he cover Freetown fo' big oh!"[14]
[14] The use of America and England, in the comparison, comes from
the vaguest possible conception of those countries, derived in this
instance, it may be supposed, from information picked up by Sobah
during his visits to Freetown. The series, America, England and
Freetown, is intended to form a climax.
* * * * *
The sparkling eyes and white teeth of the little listeners indicated
their appreciation of this enormous conception, but they were too eager
for the story to interrupt.
"Now Elephan' say: 'Make me fus' drink.'
"He take de cup, he full um nah well. He put heen long mout inside so,
he draw de wattah; he draw um, he draw um, he draw um sotay he done
um. Lepped say: 'Make me come try.' Dey full de cup, Lepped he drink,
he drink, he _drink_ sotay (until) he done de wattah. De beef all
drink, dey all done um. Den leelee beef dey done de wattah inside de
big cup. Dey all no able fo' go agin. Fo' walker go home dem no able,
but den able fo' grap (get up to) cook. Dey cook big, big, _big_ ress
(rice). De pot fo' cook de ress--Lie man say de pot big lek dis whole
town heah, Grimah all, Moshengo all. Well, me wey no duh lie, I no lie
_anyt'ing_, I jus' put leelee salt fo' make he sweet, I say he big lek
all Temne country, all white man country, double all two, I put half
'pon um agin en mo' town, so de pot big."
This climax elicited from Konah an explosive little exclamation. She
cracked together the tips of her fingers, rolled over on the ground,
then righting herself, asked:
"Mammy, how yo' t'ink say dey go able done dah _big_ ress?"
Very contemptuous, very subduing was the voice in reply:
"Aintee yo' know say long tem (long time ago) dem beef able anyt'ing?"
Then resuming the crooning tone: "Dey yeat dah ress, goat all, cow all,
fowl, sheep, all dem elephan', dey yeat dah ress.
"One big, big wattah spread 'pon dem all, dey all no know which side he
come out. De ashes f'om de fiah he spread 'pon dem beef all. Well, dey
all swim, dey all go to dem yown home. One tem beef all bin white, but
since w'en de ashes bin deh 'pon dem long tem, some kin (can be) red,
some kin brown, some black, some spot-spot."
Mammy Mamenah's tale was told, and she turned now to her fish and
greens, her pepper, palm-oil and pea-nuts, to prove herself as able to
make a palatable stew for the rice now cooked, as she was to tell a
story.
As these articles were being placed in the pot, the children looked
on with swelling anticipations of a feast sufficient to satisfy the
most extravagant demands of their keen appetites, as of course the
openhearted hospitality characteristic of the country, would keep the
little visitors to share the rice and stew.
"Make yo' put plenty peppy, Mammy," urged Konah, with an eagerness that
betrayed her weakness for that fiery condiment.
"Shut mout'", replied the woman, with much more gruffness than she
felt, but nevertheless she put in a generous supply of the little red
fire-balls.
Soon the stew was over the fire, and once more they all sat down to
wait. Konah, with her dreamy mind full of the story she had just
heard, and her eyes full of the new light of dawning intelligence,
sat watching the goats that were frisking and playing about the yard.
It began to break in dimly upon her mind that all those antics might
have meaning apart from the present, and might spring from some dim
remembrance of experiences from the long ago, when the animals belonged
to a higher order of beings.
Just then one of the goats dropped to its knees and began to rub its
neck along the grass.
"Ah, Mammy!" exclaimed the little girl excitedly, "yo' see dah goat?
W'ey t'ing dat he do?"
"He 'member how he bin swim, long tem," answered the woman somewhat
indifferently. "Not to kratch he duh kratch,[15] but to swim he duh
swim long tem, w'en de ocean come 'pon de beef all."
[15] This is a characteristic circumlocution. It means that the goat is
not scratching, but is swimming, as he did a long time ago.
Another goat, some distance away, was chewing its cud with much energy
and determination. The process attracted the children, one of whom
raised a question as to its meaning.
"Yo' no know dat?" replied Mamenah, this time with growing interest.
"Dat nar de ress wey dey yeat long tem. He no done yet; goat, cow, dey
duh yeat all tem, even net tem, day tem, dey yeat dah ress."
A frisky kid was playfully kicking up its heels, and anon leaping into
the air.
"Wey t'ing make he do dat?" asked Konah, laughing gleefully at the
antics of the kid.
The woman, now thoroughly in sympathy with the children's questions,
launched into a series of explanations without waiting for further
inquiries.
"W'en de goat bin come out de wattah wid swim, so he bin dry hese'f, he
bin wipe de wattah f'om he skin, he bin kick en kick. Lookee! Yo' see
dah goat wey duh 'tan' up yandah, duh shake heen yase (ears) so? Dat de
cole wey bin 'pon um long tem, duh make he yase trimble tay now."
"Eh! hey! Yo' see how dah goat duh lay down _so_, heen head 'pon 'tick?
_So_ he bin do fo' blow (breathe) w'en he done tire fo' swim."
"Ah! I duh watch dem. Hey! Yo' see dem turn dem tail so?"
The goat was wriggling its tail so that it looked not unlike a paddle
in rapid motion. "Dat nar paddle wey duh he'p um fo' pull; he bin turn
um fas' fas' w'en he inside de wattah."
Two goats were standing on their hind legs, playing, and two others
were engaged in a mock fight. These manœuvres needed explanation, and
Mammy Manenah went on after a momentary pause. "W'en de goat wan' tell
Cunnie Rabbit 'How do,' dah tem w'en he go beg wattah, _so_ he bin
'tan' up fus' tem. W'en dey fet dey 'member say how dey fet long tem
wid Cunnie Rabbit. Dat make dem try agin."
By this time two of the animals were solemnly touching noses, and
seemed to be discussing some grave matter. To an inquiry of the
children as to the meaning of this behavior, the reply came: "Oh dat?
Nar bargain dem make long tem fo' get wattah."
A plaintive little bleat brought out the explanation: "Long tem, w'en
one leelee goat bin go beg de wattah, Cunnie Rabbit say: 'Make yo' call
yo' Mammy, make he come;' den de pickin say: 'Mah! mah!' Dat make de
leelee goat say 'Mah mah,' tay (till) to-day."
Then reminded of another characteristic goat trait, she continued
earnestly:
"Aintee yo' see w'en one goat kin run, all start wid run fo' follow um?
Cunnie Rabbit bin sen' one say: 'Make dem call all, make dem come drink
wattah f'om dah big cup.' Now 'member dey duh 'member.
"Dey gladee w'en pusson call um fo' yeat, dey run. Dey 'member w'en
Cunnie Rabbit say: 'Who no come fo' yeat dah ress, he go meet um done."
A goat that had been making a tour of inspection around the yard, was
just now peering inquisitively over the edge of a large barrel, an
unusual acquisition from Sobah's last trading trip to Freetown.
"Oh dah goat deh?" This in reply to a look of inquiry from the
children. "Long tem he go peep inside well, w'en he no get one grain
wattah. He duh peep inside Cunnie Rabbit heen well."
"Goat no 'fraid pusson?"--this after an interval of silence--"Oh! Yo
know fo' wey t'ing dey no go 'fraid pusson? I tell yo' 'bout um. Spider
make dem lek pusson," and with that she drifted off naturally into an
account of Mr. Spider and the goats, and incidentally showed why some
goats are tame, and others wild.
GOATS OF THE WOOD AND OF THE TOWN.
"Spider he bin pusson, long tem, he no bin 'tan' lek[16] to-day; he
done turn odder kine of t'ing now. Dah tem he get big, big, big cassada
(cassava) fa'm. He say: Make dem goat all come tell um 'How do.' Den he
go root cassada, he root cassada; he pile um high, he jam de sky fo'
high. He tell dem goat, he say: 'Who wan' go nah town, make he go nah
town; who wan' go nah bush, make he go nah bush. Now he shabe (divided)
de cassada. All dem wey say dey wan' go nah town, he gie um four, four
stick cassada;[17] he say: 'Aintee me pusson? Yo' mus' lek pusson.'
[16] "He no bin 'tan' lek," _i.e._ Did not stand like, did not appear
as he does.
[17] "He gie um four, four," _i.e._ He gave four to each.
"Dey say: 'All ret.'
"De one wey (who) wan' go nah bush, he gie dem two, two 'tick. Dat make
sotay (till) now, dem bush-goat no lek pusson, dey say dey wan' be
inside bush."
A cow that had been grazing just behind the fence, came up now and
looked over into the yard, at the same time switching her tail in a
vigorous attempt to dislodge a large fly that had settled upon her
back. Konah noticed this interesting performance, and glad of the
opportunity to seek further explanations, aroused her mother from the
reverie into which she had fallen, with the question:
"Yo' see de cow wey 'tan' up yandah? Wey t'ing do he bin make heen tail
so, knock um behine heen back?"
The efforts of the cow now became almost frantic, much to the delight
of the children. Mamenah explained:
"W'en dey bin swim, long tem, he tie one big, big cassada to heen tail
fo' cham (chew). Wen he wan' fo' cham um, he turn um, knock um 'pon
heen back, so he kin turn cham um. So yo' kin see cow 'tan' up, knock
heen tail behine back. Not to fly he duh dribe, dat cassada he bin
'member, long tem."
After this last explanation, there was silence for some minutes, until
the children, returning from the land of dreams to that of reality,
became aware that they were exceedingly hungry. The rice had sometime
since been removed from the fire and beneath its grass-woven cover had
steamed until now the stew was ready to pour over it. Konah ran to the
brook, and returned with a calabash of water, and the little company
crouched upon the ground to enjoy what to them was a succulent repast.
Balls of rice of considerable size were squeezed up, and by a deft
motion of the hand were transferred to the mouth, until the appetites
were thoroughly appeased. Finally even Konah cared for nought else but
to throw herself listlessly back against a tree that stood near, and,
lolling out her tongue, she fanned it with a shred from a banana leaf
to quench the fire of the coveted cayenne. It was hot, nevertheless
the torture was delicious. Sweet, very sweet is "peppy" to an African
palate, and how much is enough is a problem dependent largely upon the
supply.