Alas! No sooner had he escaped from the quicksand flats, he came across a village of porcupines where at that very moment a throne council was sitting. An unusual council to be sure: it was more like a tribunal. Strangely enough, the accused was the king himself.
The hearing was held in the public square where, every seven years, a big fair was held. The whole population was invited to the session. The king, tethered like a bundle of wood and transported like a common animal carcass, was placed in the middle of a circle, which had been formed there to conduct a preliminary interrogation.
What crime had the king committed in order to be thus mistreated and shamefully brought before the court of his people? He had ordered, one day when he was in a bad mood, to kill all the monkeys that populated his kingdom, because, he said, they were undesirable foreigners, parasites that sucked the country dry and that they impoverished the natives.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé could not believe his ears, let alone his eyes. A king remanded before a court of his people, that much might be admissible; but to appear trussed up like a bundle of dead wood and, moreover, because of monkeys which by all accounts had nothing to do with porcupines at all, that beggared belief! But things are the way they are and you have to know how to adapt to them. If the custom of the times is that guests rub their bellies before eating a meal, then those who do not rub their bellies before eating may get indigestion, and they would only have themselves to blame!
The griot among the porcupines had seen Bâ-Wâm’ndé. He walked towards him and said:
“Who are you, you who are not a porcupine? You are not from this country. Where do you come from? And where are you going so carelessly? I think you lost your reason somewhere along the way and left your luck hanging on a branch in your village grove; otherwise, you would not have come here today. Indeed, every stranger who sees what you have just seen must perish this very hour and this very moment. You, oh stranger and son of Adam, the king you see tethered in this way is still no less king. He wields power of command over any foreigner until his ousting, the verdict for which has yet to be pronounced. Moreover, he has commanded me to spear you to death. Walk ahead of me! I will conduct you to our execution site, and there I will brandish my quills and launch them at you all at once. They will pierce you and you will die!”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé obediently took the lead; his would-be impaler followed him, guiding him with his voice. When they arrived at the spot, the porcupine shook vigorously and its quills sprang out like arrows towards Bâ-Wâm’ndé’s body. But, what a miracle, they all fell short of his body and stuck in the ground, forming a sort of hedge all around him. What, then, could have stopped the quills in this way? Had they ricocheted off a mysterious shield, a shield that no eye could see? ... At that very moment, a hedgehog sprang out from invisibility and said,
“Ahoy there, porcupines! If Bâ-Wâm’ndé had perished this day on your account, you would all be exterminated by a male death.”
The porcupine king, though tied up like a bundle of wood, asked him, “Who then is Bâ-Wâm’ndé? When and where did you come to know him?”
The hedgehog recounted:
“I knew Bâ-Wâm’ndé on a day of great misfortune, a day when I found myself stuck in the middle of a bush fire. The fire, crackling angrily, advanced rapidly towards me; its flames devoured voraciously everything within their reach. I felt such great fear and my heart pounded so hard that my legs became paralysed as if suddenly swollen. Bâ-Wâm’ndé, who noticed my predicament, jumped over the flames to join me. He took me, put me in his bag and launched himself at once over the fire to get out of the danger zone. Then he left me securely in a hollow. It was in recognition of this good deed that to protect him my hedgehog brothers formed a circle around him invisible to your eyes. Each one of us stopped one of the quills thrown by your executioner and stuck it in the ground. As for you, porcupines, you know the magical power that we as hedgehogs are capable of. If you do not gracefully smooth over your fault, we shall inflict a severe punishment on you!”
Thereupon, a one-eyed porcupine, with half-broken limbs, advanced painfully, dragging his dilapidated body. He straightened his neck and vomited a fôgi fruit (38). “O Bâ-Wâm’ndé,” he said, “Take this fruit and put it in your bag.”
Then he addressed the other porcupines: “You always had a bad opinion of me. Every time I gave you advice, you refused to listen to me, taking me for a fool. But being ugly and having a deformed body does mean I am a simpleton; this outward state cannot extinguish Guéno’s inner blessing which was once given me.”1
“O Bâ-Wâm’ndé,” he continued, “eat this fruit as soon as you are hungry, and then keep the stones in your sack. They will be useful to you on a difficult day, and that day will be upon you soon since you are going to Wéli-Wéli.” Bâ-Wâm’ndé thanked the hedgehog and took leave of the porcupines, whose bad intentions he graciously forgave.
Continuing on his way, he arrived at the banks of a river. The river had grown so big that it was beginning to rise out of its bed and threatened to flood part of the plain. Already, it had caused the collapse of part of its high banks, uprooted many trees and drowned the brush. Its high tide had almost swallowed the wooded groves of the islets, which were half-submerged. Under the repeated crash of the waves, a frothy surf had bleached the river’s lips,2 like the dried lips of a thirsty man who has spoken too much are covered with a whitish foam.
In truth, this river was different from all other rivers on earth: it was Gayobélé, the magic river of the Fulani.3 It fed into great lakes and reached to enormous depths in places. Each of its pockets of water contained countless varieties of fish of all shapes and sizes. The large fish that lived in the deepest waters fed on the medium fish that cast their shadow on them. These, in turn, ate the smallest fish swimming above them, the siiwuuji. During the moonless periods of the cold season, the siiwuuji would leave their water pocket and swim upstream. Their journey continued to the so-called “jujube-tree pond”. There, they took advantage of the river’s high water levels and flooding to spread out across the plain, each female knowing exactly where she would deposit her eggs. The withdrawal of the water coincided with the hatching of the eggs, so the young fish found themselves drained towards the river’s bed. They went back downstream, separated from their mothers, and went on to live their adult lives, each one retreating into one of Gayobélé’s 113 water pockets, at the exact depth that was characteristic of their species (39).
Bâ-Wâm’ndé entered the magical river and set about swimming across it with his sheep. Ngoudda, the short-tailed crocodile (40) that lay resting nearby, saw the kobbou-nollou and its master swimming towards the opposite bank. In excitement, the great aquatic reptile with the benefit of thick body armour thought he had found within reach of his teeth a sufficient supply of food for many days. Clenching his jaws tightly, it straightened up what was left of his tail and entered the river. His snout, which pointed to the surface, split the water like a knife cuts through cloth. Two wide white stripes seemed to move apart in his wake after he passed through. He moved quickly, determined to grab either the sheep with the multi-coloured eyes or its reckless owner, or even, why not, both at the same time. Bâ-Wâm’ndé and his sheep swam peacefully, unaware of the danger that threatened them. Just as they reached the shore and were about to get out of the water, the aquatic predator with brown skin and saw-like teeth caught up with them. He opened his mouth wide. Although his tail was shortened, he bent it back and hurled it to hook Bâ-Wâm’ndé and his sheep in one fell swoop — after which all he had to do was to drag them into deep waters to suffocate and drown them.
If Ngoudda the crocodile had been able to foresee how his manoeuvre would turn out, he would never have embarked upon it with such eagerness and decisiveness. Indeed, Ngabbou the hippopotamus happened to be stationed nearby. And when the crocodile threw his tail forcefully, instead of grabbing Bâ-Wâm’ndé and his sheep, he was himself grabbed in flight by Ngabbou’s two powerful jaws. The great amphibious quadruped of the rivers closed with a single bite of her two immense bony mandibles, as strong as iron, that supported her teeth, uttered a terrible grunt, and firmly holding her prey, hastened back to solid ground. The poor crocodile hung from her mouth like a baobab fruit, his tail hanging like a stalk.
Bâ-Wâm’ndé came out of the water trembling. He and his sheep had just made a narrow escape! Ngabbou the hippopotamus swung the crocodile and tossed it as far as she could. Poor Ngoudda, soaring like a stone thrown by a slingshot, was stopped in his flight by a baobab tree planted a few meters away and he remained hanging between its branches. In falling on the baobab tree, he dislodged one of its fruit, which clattered to the ground, resounding like a bell. Ngabbou the hippopotamus cried out:
“O Bâ-Wâm’ndé! Gather the fruit that has just fallen and open it!”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé hastily took the fruit and opened it with a stone. The fruit did not contain the usual monkey food, but miracle of miracles, it contained a skull, yes a skull! Indeed, it was the very skull that Bouytôring had placed in the central compartment of the hexagram and that had recounted and foretold this tale (41)!
Ngabbu exclaimed, “O Bâ-Wâm’ndé, you lucky man! If any other fruit had fallen, it would have foretold your death. Take this skull and put it in your bag, for it will serve you on a day when you are in trouble. Ask him, and he will answer to you as he answered to your ancestor Bouytôring and his son Hellêré.
“What have I done,” exclaimed Bâ-Wâm’ndé, “to deserve to escape the great danger that threatened me? Without your intervention, Ngabbou, the brown-skinned carnivore’s sharp teeth would not have missed me!”
Ngabbou, who was in fact a mother hippopotamus, answered his question:
“One day,” she said, “while I was nursing a tiny baby, I went to forage in the rice fields of your village. Hunters on the lookout were preparing to kill me, but you stopped them, reminding them that it is forbidden by custom to kill a nursing female, even a mother hippopotamus.”
“Earlier,” she added, “I saw you enter the river with your sheep and I knew that the greedy short-tail croc would try to kill you. So, I positioned myself in the right place, which allowed me to catch his tail before he grabbed you or your sheep.”
Bà-Wâm’ndé warmly thanked Ngabbou the mother hippopotamus. Then he picked up the skull, put it in his bag and took up his journey again towards Wéli-Wéli.
After half a day’s walk, he entered a rocky plain where he saw what no eye had ever seen and no ear had ever heard. In this plain, spider’s eggs were crushing the rocks! As soon as a stone was touched by an egg, it was reduced to dust and became like earthen flour. Bâ-Wâm’ndé was bowled over in astonishment observing this extraordinary phenomenon. Indeed, what can be stranger than spider eggs, the very symbol of weakness and fragility, crushing stones?4
________________
4 This new example of reversal of phenomena (see note 24) shows that Bâ-Wâm’ndé has entered a world that escapes natural laws. In this alternative world, we find there is fire which does not burn, ice which heats up, etc.. It is the world among “parallel worlds” where the rules of nature are annihilated (see l’Éclat, p. 53). The scene also indicates that a fragile thing can sometimes be more powerful than something that appears to be solid. It is said: “It is sometimes a banal thing that destroys a kingdom.”
A great black spider (42), suspended from a tree by an invisible thread of its own making, said to the traveler:
“My good man, where are you coming from and where are you going to?”
“I come from the country of Heli and Yoyo and I am heading towards Wéli-Wéli, the magic city of Njeddo Dewal.”
“And what do you seek in Wéli-Wéli?”
“I am looking for Siré, the great deaf-mute-one-eyed man, brother of Abdou, the little one-eyed-lame-knock-kneed-hunchback.”
“Take a supply of my eggs,” said the spider, “and bring them with you. On a difficult day, their power will serve you well.”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up a good supply of eggs, wrapped them up, and put them in his bag.
— droppings of locusts surprised in their mysterious saraband;— a shard of turtle shell containing a little clay— dried rheum from the eyes of an old sick dog, mixed with bitter kohl;— a miraculous stone vomited by a toad.— a yellow and ripe fôgi fruit offered by a deformed porcupine;— a bare skull that had emerged from a baobab fruit— and finally, eggs offered by a mother spider.
Indeed, these were the seven more or less extraordinary things that were in the large bag that Bâ-Wâm’ndé carried slung across his shoulder.
Continuing his walk, Bâ-Wâm’ndé came to a plain that looked like a huge forest, but instead of tall trees, it was planted with narrow, rocky peaks that were as sharp as needles and seemed to want to pierce the clouds. On each point, an egret stood on one leg, gazing meditatively at the horizon. Some were ash-coloured, others of a purple hue, others still a brilliant white. The bundle of feathers that adorned their heads were smooth as silk and shiny as a gemstone. From each strand of down that lined their ruffles or flanks hung a pearl that could have served as a dowry for a queen.
At the sight of Bâ-Wâm’ndé, all the egrets (43) spread their wings and cried out, “Hail to Bâ-Wâm’ndé! Hail, hail, and hail once more to Bâ-Wâm’ndé, the kobbou herdsman. But, O Bâ-Wâm’nde, where are you going to like this?”
“O Egrets of the Village of Egrets!” Ba-Wâm’ndé replied, “I am going to Wéli-Wéli, the city of Njeddo Dewal.”
“Bâ-Wâm’ndé!” exclaimed the graceful fowls. “Then you are heading towards death, for Njeddo Dewal toys with the life of the young. You are not too far away now from your goal.”
Not much further along, nesting on some craggy spires, white-bellied black storks were busy stuffing vipers and rats into their fluffy, straw-like baby offspring. When they heard Bâ-Wâm’ndé declare that he was on his way to Wéli-Wéli, they snapped their beaks. They said, “What have you been forced to swallow that makes you want to die? Because going to Njeddo Dewal the wicked is going to certain death.”
By way of reply, Bâ-Wâm’ndé answered: “O storks of good omen, tell me where Wéli-Wéli is, and for the rest, let Guéno’s will be done!”
“Wéli-Wéli is behind a mountain not far from here, answered the long-beaked birds (44); but this mountain, whose crest skims the clouds, is an impenetrable wall. Therefore, when you reach it, dig in your bag and consult the skull that your ancestors consulted. It will tell you what you must do to overcome this obstacle.”
Bâ-Wâm’dé thanked the storks profusely and went on his way. After a few hours of easy walking, he suddenly found himself at the foot of the mountain-wall. He therefore took the talking skull out of his bag and beseeched it:
“O skull, counsellor of my ancestors! I implore you, in the name of the baobab from whose fruit you were extricated, tell me what I must do to be able to cross this impenetrable stone wall.”
“Seek fôgi wood,” answered the skull, “and use it to light a fire. As soon as you get some burning embers, place them in the shard of tortoise shell, pour in the grasshopper droppings, burn it all and you will see what you will see!”
Bâ-Wâm’ndé went in search of fôgi wood. He quickly found a root of this shrub surrounded by a few dead branches. He snapped them into pieces and gathered them together, and, with his flint, ignited the dry wood. In a short time, he obtained the necessary embers.
Opening his bag, he took out the shard of turtle shell and grasshopper droppings. He put the burning embers into the shard and threw in the dried excrement, which caught fire. A whitish smoke rose up into the air, thickened, solidified, and rounded at the end like a digging bar.The huge, miraculous rod began to pound vigorously against the stone wall. After several blows, it pierced an opening wide enough to allow Bâ-Wâm’ndé and his sheep to pass through, and they immediately entered. The underground passage that opened up to them was long and dark, but its crossing demanded more time than toil for the two travellers.
Endnotes
38. Fôgi: landolphia-owariensis (foogi in Fulani, nzaban in Bambara). This plant, attributed to the moon and to Monday, is a climbing liana whose flower takes a year to develop fruit. When one wants to use it, one greets it with the formula: “Flower this year, ripe next year!”
The fôgi, which is a plant with many virtues, also represents flexibility and suppleness because it marries another plant by wrapping itself around it.
39. The journey of migratory fish: Exactly the same process has been observed in the migratory fish of the Niger River.
40. Crocodile with shortened tail: These crocodiles, which have lost part of their tail by accident, are reputed to be the most vicious. In Bandiagara, the village where I was born, a crocodile with a shortened tail lived, with its fellow crocodiles, in a pocket of the Yamé River, called the “crocodile pond”. He was the only one who wounded the animals; the other crocodiles never attacked men, children or animals.
41. Baobab: It is not by chance that this sacred skull inherited from a very distant past, and which will play a capital role throughout the tale, comes from a fruit of the baobab tree, sacred tree par excellence, symbol of longevity and antiquity, wisdom and generosity. Indeed, in the baobab as in the bovine, everything can be used; this is why it is said that the baobab is, among the plants, what the cow or the ox is among the animals.
42. Spider: prototype of the weaver (see note 83).
43. The egret: a kind of white heron, is in harmony with the Fulani because it is the heron that, under the name of “cattle-pricker”, accompanies the cattle to eat the parasites lodged in their skin.
44. Storks: It is the storks that show Bâ-Wâm’ndé the way to Wéli-Wéli, because of their quality as migratory birds.
Translation from Amadou Hampâté Bâ, “Contes initiatiques peuls”
Illustrations: Tsingy de Bemahara in Madagascar
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