This is part of a series: Njeddo Dewal, Mother of Calamity
On the way to Wéli-Wéli
Bâ-Wâm’ndé thanked Abdou as he ought and then returned home and prepared for his journey. Early the next morning, with his bag slung over his shoulder, and pulling the kobbou-nollou sheep behind him, he left his house and took the road to Wéli-Wéli where he was sure to find Siré, the deaf-mute-one-eyed man to whom he had to hand over his sheep.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé walked and walked. He walked from morning until noon until the sun at its zenith poured down such an exhausting heat upon the earth that it forced every traveller to seek shelter.
He sought refuge under the shade of a tree with thick foliage. He had been there for barely a few moments when he saw a great flight of locusts approaching. The short-horned grasshoppers invaded the shady area and began to dance around him.
“Bâ-Wâm’ndé, Bâ-Wâm’ndé, Bâ-Wâm’ndé, Bâ-Wâm’ndé,” they chanted, “Where are you off to like this?”
“I am bound for Wéli-Wéli, the mysterious city of Njeddo Dewal.”
“And what is it you seek there in that detestable and infernal city, devoid of women except for the seven daughters of Njeddo the Calamitous? The wells of Wéli-Wéli flow with blood. Its ground burns hot as fire. And every day, Njeddo Dewal finishes her meals by drinking the blood of adolescent young men.”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé replied: “I am bringing this kobbou-nollou sheep that you see here to offer it to Siré, the deaf-mute-one-eyed man, brother of Abdou, the one-eyed-lame-knock-kneed-hunchback. Yes, kobbou-nollou will be the sheep of salvation for the deaf-mute-one-eyed man. Only Siré and his brother Abdou can stand up to Njeddo Dewal, for Siré holds the secret that will nullify the potency of all the witch’s powers and deprive her of the means that have enabled her to wreak havoc on Heli and Yoyo.”
“Yes, by the power of her spells, the people of Heli and Yoyo are plunged into an indescribable misery! The children there no longer run or play. Everyone is exhausted as if they had spent the day lugging a heavy load of dead wood. The people of Heli and Yoyo work tirelessly without respite, accomplishing exhausting and fruitless tasks, only to return home to find no meal awaiting them. Njeddo Dewal subjects them to a fate like a man asked to knead dry clay without moistening it.”
The oldest of the grasshoppers cried out,1 “Ahoy! Bâ-Wâm’ndé! We have been created by Guéno who united in us the characteristics of several animals (34). Allow us to tell you something:”
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1 The talking grasshoppers: from the start of his journey to Wéli-Wéli: Bâ-Wâm’ndé enters another world, the world of “the hidden”. He gains access to new faculties and can understand the language of animals.
This intimacy between man and animal is also a common characteristic of African tales.
“One day, we took off in flight, assembled in a giant cloud. We landed in your family’s field and in your personal lougan plot, and we devoured everything there. We did not spare the leaves of a single fruit tree. We dug up the ground in your field and deposited our eggs there so as to ravage it again the following year. However, despite this, the day when you found children mishandling little grasshoppers without wings, who were therefore defenceless, you came to the rescue of our offspring. This act of generosity with which you repaid the harm we had done to you obliges us today to show our appreciation. We know that you are going to Wéli-Wéli. The perils of death to which you expose yourself are not insignificant. So, we offer our help to you. Take some of our droppings and keep them carefully in your bag. One day, they might be of some use to you.”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé followed their advice. He filled a little sachet with their droppings and packed it in his bag. Then he took leave of the ravagemongers and continued on his way, pulling his sheep behind him.
On the second day of his journey, Bâ-Wâm’ndé came across a bale of turtles. The population of turtles was so dense that he could not pass through. The oldest of the turtles addressed him.
"Oh sheep man! Have you lost your way or have you lost your mind? What ill-fate has caused you to venture to this forbidden realm? It is well-nigh certain that your fate is cooked and your death is predestined, else you would not be here today.
Upon this, a little turtle, who was the daughter of the king of turtles, stepped forward and said to her father:
“O father! I take Ba-Wam’nde under my protection and guarantee his life and safety. One day, this man found me languishing in a ditch where I was dying of hunger and thirst and from which I could not extricate myself on my own. But well! He interrupted his journey to rescue me from my prison and transport me to a pond that joins up with our river. There he waded into the water and put me down into the depths I wished so that I was out of reach of possible predators.”
The king of the turtles proclaimed: “Hark, drummers! Play my royal anthem in honour of Bâ-Wâm’ndé with a lively and resounding tempo, molto allegro!” And as the rhythmic hymn swelled joyfully to its crescendo, the King of the Turtles grasped the hand of Bâ-Wâm’ndé, lifted it high and, shaking it in a friendly manner, he cried out:
“Praise be to you, Bâ-Wâm’ndé, saviour of my only child and heir to my crown! We know that you are going to Wéli-Wéli, the city of Njeddo Dewal the Calamitous. Be wary that terrible trials await you if not certain death.” (33)
Having said this, the king had a shard of turtle shell containing some clay brought to him. He handed it to Bâ-Wâm’ndé:
“Here, take this! Put it in your bag, do not lose it, and make sure that it is always close at hand. On a day when you are in trouble, break it and throw the pieces into fire. This offering we bestow to you is a token of our appreciation for your benevolence and generosity.”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé greatly thanked the king of the turtles.2 A path was opened up in their midst and he resumed his walk towards Wéli-Wéli, accompanied as ever by his sheep.
The sun dipped over the horizon, but Bâ-Wâm’ndé pressed on nonetheless. He did not stop walking until the first crow of the rooster. Then exhausted, succumbing to sleep, he collapsed to the ground. Was it a dream? Was it reality?3 He saw a great pack of dogs circling around a termite mound. The dogs on discovering him began to bark. With snarling lips, fangs bared, they surged towards him, ready to tear him to pieces. It was then that a big shepherd dog emerged from the pack and cried out:
“Stop, my brothers. This traveller is called Bâ-Wâm’ndé, a man full of goodness and charity. One day he found me taking refuge in a hallway, sick to death, infested with scabies and voracious ticks which were sucking the little blood I had left and making my life impossible. I had been chased everywhere because no-one likes a sick dog. Well then! Bâ-Wâm’ndé here took me in, led me home and gave me food to eat. “Take cover under the roof of my granary,” he told me. I took refuge there and all the time I remained there, he never let me lack anything, whether it be meat or milk. I ate until I was full and rested to my heart and soul’s content. Bâ-Wâm’ndé looked after me and when I was better, he assigned me to look after his flock of sheep and large goats. That is how I was able to regain my health and vigour until the day came when the desire came over me to come back to you. Even then, he made no effort to impede my departure.
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“Oh Bâ-Wâm’ndé! We warmly welcome you to the land of the dogs who circle around the marvellous termite mound. (35) My uncle, king of my people, will come to greet you.”
At that, an old sick toothless canine came forward all trembling, his eyes welling with tears as a long gloop of drool hung from his mouth. He licked Bâ-Wâm’ndé’s hands and feet and said, “He who has just spoken is the child of my sister. You were good to him. I owe it to you to show my gratitude because among good folk, the repayment of good deeds should never be anything but good deeds in return. I know that you are going to Wéli- Wéli. Yes, Njeddo Dewal the calamitous built that hidden city, which she called Wéli-Wéli (Sweet-Sweet), although she should have called it Héli-Héli (Shatter-Shatter).
The old dog (36) took the secretions that had coagulated in the corners of his eyes and handed them over to Bâ- Wâm’ndé. “Take this,” he said to him, “Wrap it in cloth and hide the packet in your bag. In heading to Wéli-Wéli, you are heading without realising it to a man’s death. One day when you are at a loss and out of options, it may be that you need to put this in someone’s eyes, having mixed it with bitter kohl, the substance which I am to give you (37). So saying, he added to the packet some powder of bitter kohl and some cooking ashes.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé accepted everything gratefully. He warmly thanked the king of the dogs and then he took his leave and continued on his way.
After some time, he unexpectedly came across a knot of toads. The anurans who were in carnival spirit lept about in all directions. Discovering the presence of Bâ- Wâm’ndé, they cried out:
“What’s up with you, sheep man? Where are you going like this? Is it that you’ve reached the end of your life’s thread? Otherwise, you would never think of going to Wéli-Wéli, and certainly you would not take the path that crosses our domain. You will pay with your life for your audacity or your carelessness.”
A young female toad approached Bâ-Wâm’ndé, hopping up to him.
“Don't you recognize me?” she said, “I am indebted to you for the good deed you bestowed upon me one day; it is now my turn to re-pay you.”
“I don't recall any more having met you,” said Ba- Wâm’ndé.”
“It is usual for the author of a blessing to forget his good deed, and this is acceptable,” replied the young toad. “What is reprehensible and unspeakable is that the beneficiary of this good deed forgets it. This is not so in my case.”
“One day when the heat was overwhelming, dying of thirst, I was in a state of torment. I saw a clay pot filled with fresh water in the shade of a tree. Full of hope, I approached it to quench my thirst, but the opening was
too high and too narrow for me. Each of my jumps to reach it ended with a tumble. I slid down, rolled over and fell onto my back, seeing only the sky.”
“It was then that a fat boy came along, probably the son of the pot’s owner. He found me exhausted, lying on the ground, almost dead. I was panting like a thirsty dog. The fat kid grabbed my limbs, tied them with a rope and squeezed them so tightly that my ears buzzed. He lifted the rope from which I was hanging upside down and started to run, swinging me around. And, believe me, that swinging was not like a rocking motion to put a baby to sleep. It was more like a shaking to make the insides vomit! My belly filled with air to the point of bursting, my bound feet swelled up. The kid was thrilled to bits to see me in this miserable state.”
"It was then, Bâ-Wâm’ndé, that you intervened and rescued me. You untied me and scolded the boy, forbidding him to do it again. I don’t remember how you settled things with him, but I know that you gave him something. What I cannot forget is the noble act you did for my sake and which kept me from perishing.”
The mother of the young toad emerged from the ranks and, haphazardly pattered up to Bâ-Wâm’ndé. She vomited between her feet a round white stone the size of a bird’s egg.
“Oh benefactor of creatures great and small, showing compassion even for the tadpoles in noxious waters and muddy ponds. The animals, terrestrial and aquatic, the beasts, in cities and forests, are grateful to you, and all
the birds chirp your praises, in the fields and in the branches of the trees in the high bush!”
“O Bâ-Wâm’ndé! Take this stone and put it in your bag. It will serve you for something on a difficult day that you are heading towards without realising it, because going to Wéli-Wéli is going to death!”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé put the stone away in his bag. He said, “As the adage goes, he who is grateful should have as much merit, if not more, than he who has done good, for ingratitude is characteristic of mankind.”
Then he thanked the mother toad for her kindness, greeted all the assembled anurans and continued on his way.
It was still early morning. The air was cool. Still pulling his sheep, Bâ-Wâm’ndé walked, he walked hour after hour, taking advantage of the morning coolness. The sun was veiled by clouds, but when it rose into the sky to the height of four large spear lengths, its fiery rays pierced the clouds and spread such an unbearable heat that it seemed to immobilize the atmosphere. Not the slightest breath of wind! Bâ-Wâm’ndé began to sweat profusely. Despite the heat that suffocated him, he kept moving forwards, but with great difficulty because in addition the path became worse and worse, sometimes undulating, sometimes cracked, winding, uneven, or walled in so narrowly on either side that he wondered how he would get past with his sheep.
To crown his misfortune, he saw in the distance, on the eastern horizon, a vast cluster of clouds like mountains stacked one upon another. Some of these clouds were whitish, some indigo black, some tinged with blue. They moved slowly like sheep grazing on the plain. No doubt a tornado was brewing, for Bâ-Wâm’ndé saw great flashes of lightning illuminating the heavens. The sky was about to open its floodgates and inundate the earth.
Suddenly, the wind blew. It swept through the foliage and inflated Bâ-Wâm’ndé’s boubou robe, which did not make his walk easier. In order to advance, he had to lean so far forwards that he seemed on the verge of falling on his face at any moment. He bent his head as if to fend off the fierce blows that violent gusts were targeting at his temples. Pulling his sheep with his right hand, he used his left as best he could to press the ends of his boubou robe against his body to prevent it from puffing out further.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé raised his eyes to gaze at the horizon. Serpentine flashes sparked horizontally between two clouds, then a great forked arborescence illuminated the firmament. Undoubtedly, a storm was about to break.
It was certainly not the time for him or his sheep to get soaked. Exhausted, unable to continue his journey while his inflated boubou hindered his steps, he took refuge under a tree and began to pray:
“Oh Guéno! Please make the sky stop pissing it down on the earth! May it go away and come again another day.”
The wind continued unabated its furious onslaught. The tree under which Bâ-Wâm’ndé had sought shelter stood in a wooded hollow of thorny bushes. Birds with ruffled feathers clung tightly to its tender branches. Depending on the whims of the wind, these branches would rise like raging waves or plummet into the void like a foundering vessel. With each plunge, the wind ruffled the birds’ feathers and fanned out their tails.
Was the prayer of Bâ-Wâm’ndé heard? It so happened that the lightning sheathed its incendiary arrows which threatened to set the world alight and the wind calmed down. As if to show his concern for the man whose heart was full of charity, Guéno did not want Bâ-Wâm’ndé and his sheep to get soaked. The thunder died down and reduced to a distant echo. The winds chased the rain away and dispersed the storm. The great dark clouds that only a moment earlier obscured the sky became as clear as a cup of water. They thinned and spread themselves out, dispersing in waves like sandy dunes. Small clouds followed them, twisting and turning away as if to make a winding path.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé therefore left his shelter and continued on his way with his sheep towards Wéli-Wéli. No sooner had he left the narrow winding path,4 he unexpectedly came out onto a plain that was even more difficult to cross – it was a huge expanse of very fine sand. The walker found himself up to his knees in it. At the slightest breath of wind, grains of sand blinded him and bit his skin like thousands of enraged ants.
By Guéno’s grace and with his help, Bâ-Wâm’ndé after much effort and suffering, managed to cross the deadly quicksand which in their time had swallowed up more than one man and more than one mount.5
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4 Whenever, in a tale, one encounters a winding path, a river to cross, a mountain to climb, it symbolises a test or a step to take on the spiritual path.
5 The sand flats: it is the country of initiation. If no one guides you, you get stuck there, no matter how fine or clever you are. To get bogged down is to fall into the traps that are scattered around. It is the illusion, the divine mirage (makarou in Islam). One takes for the goal what is only a decoy. One thinks one has arrived when one is just stuck. Hence the need for a safe guide. Bâ-wâm’ndé can advance in this dangerous area only because he is protected and guided by Guéno.
Endnotes:
34. Grasshoppers: The grasshopper is generally regarded as a symbol of plague and destruction. Here, it is presented in its hybrid aspect, as realising a kind of symbiosis of several animals. It is said to have the head of a horse, the horns and eyes of a gazelle, the neck of a bull, the breast of a caiman or scorpion, the abdomen of a worm, the wings of an eagle, and the legs of a giraffe. Its green colour is a sign of cold weather and its yellowish hue augurs drought.
35. Termite mound: The termite mound is considered to be the first masonry of the earth. The art of architecture is supposed to have been taught to men by termites, who are therefore the masters of masonry just as the spider is related to weaving.
The termite mound is supposed to be the habitat of spirits. It is also often used as a place of conservation of ritual objects and religious ornaments. In a very large termite mound where a man could live, a cavity is dug where these objects are placed. The termites build up everything around them and these objects are thus hermetically protected.
Independently of the fact that the dog is sacrificed to the six great traditional Mandé gods (N’tomo-woulou, komo, nama, kono, tchi-wara and koré), the dog is sacrificed to the earth to produce and also to be the “light” for the bodies of the dead. It is also sacrificed to ward off bad luck during eclipses.
Since the dog is considered very familiar with the invisible, its skull, like that of man, is used in divination rites. In some initiatory societies in Mali and Niger, some parts of the dog - notably its head - are used for possession dances.
37: Rheum from the Dog’s Eyes: This is used to provoke premonitory dreams. It is also said to allow vision, especially when added to kohl, made using a plant that has the virtue of improving vision and curing conjunctivitis.
Translation from Amadou Hampâté Bâ, “Contes initiatiques peuls”
Painting: “Swarm of Locusts” by F. W. Kuhnert
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