Clever Jackal gets away

African Folktale
Source: http://www.worldoftales.com/African_folktales/

"Hawu, hawu, hawu, my children," Gogo began one evening. "You know, cleverness is a very important
thing to own! Why, cleverness has helped Nogwaja out of the cooking pot more than once!"

"The Jackal is also a clever animal, isn't he, Gogo?" asked little Sipho (see' poh), who was quite proud
that his nickname was Mpungushe (mpoo-ngoo'-shay = "jackal"). Gogo, in fact, had given him that name
because of the loud howl he had made as a baby. Sipho liked to think it was because he was quick and
agile as the Jackal.

Gogo laughed and looked at the child at her feet. "Yes, my boy! You are right! Jackal is a very clever
animal. Sometimes too clever for his own good!"

"I remember how he helped Jabu the herdboy by tricking Bhubesi back into the snare. Tell us another
tale about Jackal, Gogo!" begged Sipho.

"Yes, Gogo," her other grandchildren chorused. "Please tell us...."

"Alright, my children. But listen and learn!" Gogo settled her round self down more comfortably upon
the tree stump. "Kwasuka sukela . . ."

One day long ago, Jackal was trotting through a narrow, rocky pass. As he often did, he kept his nose to
the ground as he ambled along, to catch the odd scent. "Never know when I'll happen upon my next
meal, " he thought to himself, although it was highly unlikely that he would find a rat out in the midday
heat. But perhaps he could catch a lizard or two.

Suddenly he was aware of a movement ahead of him in the pass. "Oh, no!" Jackal moaned and stopped
dead-still in his tracks. Lion was coming toward him. Realising that he was too near to escape, Jackal was
filled with fear. He had played so many tricks on the great Bhubesi in the past, he was sure that lion
would take this opportunity to get his revenge. In a flash Jackal thought of a plan.

"Help! Help!" cried Jackal. He cowered down on the cliff path, looking above at the rocks.

Lion stopped short in surprise.

"Help!" Jackal howled, using the fear he felt in the middle of his chest to accentuate his cry. Jackal
glanced up at Bhubesi. "Oh, great Nkosi! Help! There is no time to lose! See those great rocks above us?
They are about to fall! We shall both be crushed to death!!!! Oh, mighty Lion, do something! Save us!"
And Jackal cowered even lower, his paws covering his head.

Lion looked up, most alarmed. Before he even had a chance to think, Jackal was begging him to use his
strength to hold up the overhanging rock. So Lion put his brawny shoulder to the rock and heaved.

"Oh, thank you, great King!" yelped Jackal. "I will quickly fetch that log over there to prop under the
rock, and we will both be saved!" With that Jackal bounded out of sight.

Lion was left all alone to struggle under the weight of the unmoving rock. How long he remained there
before he realised that it was another trick, we will never know. But this much we do know: Jackal
continued to live by his wits!
 Why the Cheetah's cheeks are stained
African Folktale
Source: http://www.worldoftales.com/African_folktales/African_Folktale_5.html

"Kwasuka sukela...."

Long ago a wicked and lazy hunter was sitting under a tree. He was thinking that it was too
hot to be bothered with the arduous task of stalking prey through the bushes. Below him in the
clearing on the grassy veld there were fat springbok grazing. But this hunter couldn't be
bothered, so lazy was he! He gazed at the herd, wishing that he could have the meat without the
work, when suddenly he noticed a movement off to the left of the buck. It was a female cheetah
seeking food. Keeping downwind of the herd, she moved closer and closer to them. She singled
out a springbok who had foolishly wandered away from the rest. Suddenly she gathered her long
legs under her and sprang forward. With great speed she came upon the springbok and brought
it down. Startled, the rest of the herd raced away as the cheetah quickly killed her prey.

The hunter watched as the cheetah dragged her prize to some shade on the edge of the
clearing. There three beautiful cheetah cubs were waiting there for her. The lazy hunter was
filled with envy for the cubs and wished that he could have such a good hunter provide for him.
Imagine dining on delicious meat every day without having to do the actual hunting! Then he
had a wicked idea. He decided that he would steal one of the cheetah cubs and train it to hunt
for him. He decided to wait until the mother cheetah went to the waterhole late in the afternoon
to make his move. He smiled to himself.

When the sun began to set, the cheetah left her cubs concealed in a bush and set off to the
waterhole. Quickly the hunter grabbed his spear and trotted down to the bushes where the cubs
were hidden. There he found the three cubs, still to young to be frightened of him or to run
away. He first chose one, then decided upon another, and then changed his mind again. Finally
he stole them all, thinking to himself that three cheetahs would undoubtedly be better than one.

When their mother returned half-an-hour later and found her babies gone, she was broken-
hearted. The poor mother cheetah cried and cried until her tears made dark stains down her
cheeks. She wept all night and into the next day. She cried so loudly that she was heard by an old
man who came to see what the noise was all about.

Now this old man was wise and knew the ways of the animals. When he discovered what the
wicked hunter had done, he became very angry. The lazy hunter was not only a thief, he had
broken the traditions of the tribe. Everyone knew that a hunter must use only his own strength
and skill. Any other way of hunting was surely a dishonour.

The old man returned to the village and told the elders what has happened. The villagers
became angry. They found the lazy hunter and drove him away from the village. The old man
took the three cheetah cubs back to their grateful mother. But the long weeping of the mother
cheetah stained her face forever. Today the cheetah wears the tearstains on its face as a
reminder to the hunters that it is not honourable to hunt in any other way than that which is
traditional.
 The Rabbit throws out his sandal
South American Folktale

Source: http://www.worldoftales.com/South_American_folktales/South_American_Folktale_3.html
The rabbit was in the cave that was the abode of all the animals: the snake, the turkey vulture,
the buzzard, the deer, the lion, the skunk and the coyote. They began to get together there to
discuss how they could kill the rabbit mayor (the rabbit is often called the "mayor".)
But the rabbit mayor was very clever and was looking for a way to escape. They began to keep
watch on him in that house because they intended to kill him, but they were not able to kill him
as they had planned. They had wanted to smash him to pieces.
"Make him come out so that he will die right now. Don't let him escape; that good-for-nothing
mayor has deceived us too many times. Well, now he's surely going to be finished, we're going to
finish him off. Be on your guard and don't let him get away. When he comes out of the cave
we're going to smash him to pieces, for there's a lot of us. Pity him. Compared to all of us, he's
nothing. We are many against one. I hope now he's going to pay for all the crimes he has
committed against us. That's why he must to die now. You, turkey vulture, go and watch for him
to come out, and you deer, go right after him. Since you can run as fast as the mayor, you'll be
able to catch up with him. Be on guard, all of you."
"All right," they said.
"Snake, you look to see when he comes out, and we'll all pile on top of him. You snake, call
him."
"Come on out, hurry," said the townspeople.
"Wait," said the rabbit, "I'm taking off my sandal."
"But hurry," said the snake.
"Wait, I'm coming out. Wait for me there, I'm coming out."
"Well, hurry," said the townspeople.
"Come on out," the snake said to the rabbit.
"I'm coming out. Wait," said the rabbit.
"Well, hurry," said the townspeople.
"All right," said the rabbit. "I'm coming out now. Please catch my sandal, I beg you."
The townspeople answered: "Catch his sandal, throw it over there. It's not as if it were your
father's sandal, that you're obliged to carry it."
"All right, mayor. Throw out your sandal." And the turkey vulture caught the sandal. He gave
it to the deer and the deer threw it away, as they thought that it was the rabbit's sandal. They
were all shouting in the cave. They didn't know it was the mayor they had thrown away.
"Come on out," shouted the snake into the cave, "come out right away." When they realized
that he wasn't answering them they were sad. They sent the snake into the cave and the snake
shouted: "He's not here, he's not here."
"Throw it far away."
"He's not here, he's not here. He came out," said the snake. "
He's not here. Maybe it was him we threw."
"Did you notice if it was his sandal that you threw away?" the lion asked the deer.
"Come on out, snake."
"All right." The snake came out.
Afterwards they began to kill each other on account of the mayor rabbit. He managed to go
free, and when he was far away he laughed at them: "Some day you'll pay for the crimes you
committed against me, the mayor. You wanted to kill me, but you weren't able to. Just wait and
see what's going to happen to you later on."
 Iktomi's blanket
Native American folktale
Source: http://www.worldoftales.com/Native_American_folktales/Native_American_Folktale_38.html
Alone within his teepee sat Iktomi. The sun was but a handsbreadth from the western edge of land.
"Those, bad, bad gray wolves! They ate up all my nice fat ducks!" muttered he, rocking his body to and
fro. He was cuddling the evil memory he bore those hungry wolves. At last he ceased to sway his body
backward and forward, but sat still and stiff as a stone image.
"Oh! I'll go to Inyan, the great-grandfather, and pray for food!" he exclaimed.
At once he hurried forth from his teepee and, with his blanket over one shoulder, drew nigh to a huge
rock on a hillside. With half-crouching, half-running strides, he fell upon Inyan with outspread hands.
"Grandfather! pity me. I am hungry. I am starving. Give me food. Great-grandfather, give me meat to
eat!" he cried. All the while he stroked and caressed the face of the great stone god.
The all-powerful Great Spirit, who makes the trees and grass, can hear the voice of those who pray in
many varied ways. The hearing of Inyan, the large hard stone, was the one most sought after. He was the
great-grandfather, for he had sat upon the hillside many, many seasons. He had seen the prairie put on a
snow-white blanket and then change it for a bright green robe more than a thousand times.
Still unaffected by the myriad moons he rested on the everlasting hill, listening to the prayers of Indian
warriors. Before the finding of the magic arrow he had sat there.
Now, as Iktomi prayed and wept before the great-grandfather, the sky in the west was red like a glowing
face. The sunset poured a soft mellow light upon the huge gray stone and the solitary figure beside it. It
was the smile of the Great Spirit upon the grandfather and the wayward child.
The prayer was heard. Iktomi knew it. "Now, grandfather, accept my offering; 'tis all I have," said
Iktomi as he spread his half-worn blanket upon Inyan's cold shoulders. Then Iktomi, happy with the smile
of the sunset sky, followed a footpath leading toward a thicketed ravine. He had not gone many paces into
the shrubbery when before him lay a freshly wounded deer!
"This is the answer from the red western sky!" cried Iktomi with hands uplifted.
Slipping a long thin blade from out his belt, he cut large chunks of choice meat. Sharpening some
willow sticks, he planted them around a wood-pile he had ready to kindle. On these stakes he meant to
roast the venison.
While he was rubbing briskly two long sticks to start a fire, the sun in the west fell out of the sky below
the edge of land. Twilight was over all. Iktomi felt the cold night air upon his bare neck and shoulders.
"Ough!" he shivered as he wiped his knife on the grass. Tucking it in a beaded case hanging from his belt,
Iktomi stood erect, looking about. He shivered again. "Ough! Ah! I am cold. I wish I had my blanket!"
whispered he, hovering over the pile of dry sticks and the sharp stakes round about it. Suddenly he paused
and dropped his hands at his sides.
"The old great-grandfather does not feel the cold as I do. He does not need my old blanket as I do. I
wish I had not given it to him. Oh! I think I'll run up there and take it back!" said he, pointing his long
chin toward the large gray stone.
Iktomi, in the warm sunshine, had no need of his blanket, and it had been very easy to part with a thing
which he could not miss. But the chilly night wind quite froze his ardent thank-offering.
Thus running up the hillside, his teeth chattering all the way, he drew near to Inyan, the sacred symbol.
Seizing one corner of the half-worn blanket, Iktomi pulled it off with a jerk.
"Give my blanket back, old grandfather! You do not need it. I do!" This was very wrong, yet Iktomi did
it, for his wit was not wisdom. Drawing the blanket tight over his shoulders, he descended the hill with
hurrying feet.
He was soon upon the edge of the ravine. A young moon, like a bright bent bow, climbed up from the
southwest horizon a little way into the sky.
In this pale light Iktomi stood motionless as a ghost amid the thicket. His woodpile was not yet kindled.
His pointed stakes were still bare as he had left them. But where was the deerthe venison he had felt
warm in his hands a moment ago? It was gone. Only the dry rib bones lay on the ground like giant fingers
from an open grave. Iktomi was troubled. At length, stooping over the white dried bones, he took hold of
one and shook it. The bones, loose in their sockets, rattled together at his touch. Iktomi let go his hold. He
sprang back amazed. And though he wore a blanket his teeth chattered more than ever. Then his blunted
sense will surprise you, little reader; for instead of being grieved that he had taken back his blanket, he
cried aloud, "Hin-hin-hin! If only I had eaten the venison before going for my blanket!"
Those tears no longer moved the hand of the Generous Giver. They were selfish tears. The Great Spirit
does not heed them ever.
 The origin of the Narran Lake
Australian Folktale

Source: http://www.worldoftales.com/Australian_folktales/Australian_folktale_4.html

Old Byamee said to his two young wives, Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee, "I have stuck a white feather between
the hind legs of a bee, and am going to let it go and then follow it to its nest, that I may get honey. While I go for
the honey, go you two out and get frogs and yams, then meet me at Coorigel Spring, where we will camp, for
sweet and clear is the water there." The wives, taking their goolays and yam sticks, went out as he told them.
Having gone far, and dug out many yams and frogs, they were tired when they reached Coorigel, and, seeing the
cool, fresh water, they longed to bathe. But first they built a bough shade, and there left their goolays holding their
food, and the yams and frogs they had found. When their camp was ready for the coming of Byamee, who having
wooed his wives with a nullah-nullah, kept them obedient by fear of the same weapon, then went the girls to the
spring to bathe. Gladly they plunged in, having first divested them selves of their goomillahs, which they were still
young enough to wear, and which they left on the ground near the spring. Scarcely were they enjoying the cool
rest the water gave their hot, tired limbs, when they were seized and swallowed by two kurreahs. Having
swallowed the girls, the kurreahs dived into an opening in the side of the spring, which was the entrance to an
underground watercourse leading to the Narran River. Through this passage they went, taking all the water from
the spring with them into the Narran, whose course they also dried as they went along.

Meantime Byamee, unwitting the fate of his wives, was honey hunting. He had followed the bee with the white
feather on it for some distance; then the bee flew on to some budtha flowers, and would move no further.
Byamee said, "Something has happened, or the bee would not stay here and refuse to be moved on towards its
nest. I must go to Coorigel Spring and see if my wives are safe. Something terrible has surely happened." And
Byamee turned in haste towards the spring. When he reached there he saw the bough shed his wives had made,
he saw the yams they had dug from the ground, and he saw the frogs, but Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee he
saw not. He called aloud for them. But no answer. He went towards the spring; on the edge of it he saw the
goomillahs of his wives. He looked into the spring and, seeing it dry, he said, "It is the work of the kurreahs; they
have opened the underground passage and gone with my wives to the river, and opening the passage has dried
the spring. Well do I know where the passage joins the Narran, and there will I swiftly go." Arming himself with
spears and woggarahs he started in pursuit. He soon reached the deep hole where the underground channel of the
Coorigel joined the Narran. There he saw what he had never seen before, namely, this deep hole dry. And he said:
"They have emptied the holes as they went along, taking the water with them. But well know I the deep holes of
the river. I will not follow the bend, thus trebling the distance I have to go, but I will cut across from big hole to big
hole, and by so doing I may yet get ahead of the kurreahs." On swiftly sped Byamee, making short cuts from big
hole to big hole, and his track is still marked by the morilla ridges that stretch down the Narran, pointing in
towards the deep holes. Every hole as he came to it he found dry, until at last he reached the end of the Narran;
the hole there was still quite wet and muddy, then he knew he was near his enemies, and soon he saw them. He
managed to get, unseen, a little way ahead of the kurreahs. He hid himself behind a big dheal tree. As the kurreahs
came near they separated, one turning to go in another direction. Quickly Byamee hurled one spear after another,
wounding both kurreahs, who writhed with pain and lashed their tails furiously, making great hollows in the
ground, which the water they had brought with them quickly filled. Thinking they might again escape him, Byamee
drove them from the water with his spears, and then, at close quarters, he killed them with his woggarahs. And
ever afterwards at flood time, the Narran flowed into this hollow which the kurreahs in their writhings had made.

When Byamee saw that the kurreahs were quite dead, he cut them open and took out the bodies of his wives.
They were covered with wet slime, and seemed quite lifeless; but he carried them and laid them on two nests of
red ants. Then he sat down at some little distance and watched them. The ants quickly covered the bodies, cleaned
them rapidly of the wet slime, and soon Byamee noticed the muscles of the girls twitching. "Ah," he said, "there is
life, they feel the sting of the ants."

Almost as he spoke came a sound as of a thunder-clap, but the sound seemed to come from the ears of the girls.
And as the echo was dying away, slowly the girls rose to their feet. For a moment they stood apart, a dazed
expression on their faces. Then they clung together, shaking as if stricken with a deadly fear. But Byamee came to
them and explained how they had been rescued from the kurreahs by him. He bade them to beware of ever
bathing in the deep holes of the Narran, lest such holes be the haunt of kurreahs.

Then he bade them look at the water now at Boogira, and he said:

"Soon will the black swans find their way here, the pelicans and the ducks; where there was dry land and stones in
the past, in the future there will be water and water-fowl, from henceforth; when the Narran runs it will run into
this hole, and by the spreading of its waters will a big lake be made." And what Byamee said has come to pass, as
the Narran Lake shows, with its large sheet of water, spreading for miles, the home of thousands of wild fowl.