African Myths and Legends

This is applied to anyone who will not readily share his food, and it means ‘We are all entitled to a portion, you greedy one.’  When eating, a Xhosa is accustomed to sharing his food with any person present.  This is the story which gave rise to the saying.  .   .  . There was once a great famine in the country.  As their crops had failed, the people were obliged to eat anything they could find and they dug up any insects, weeds, or roots they could lay their hands on.  A woman in the village spoke to her husband, Kenkebe, saying, ‘Go once more to my father, Kenkbe, he has helped us before, maybe he has a little corn he could spare.’ So Kenkebe rose up early in the morning and walked until he came to his father-in-law’s village, where he was received with every kindness.  An ox had just been killed, and he ate voraciously.  ‘What is the news with you, my son?’ asked his father-in-law when Kenkebe had satisfied his hunger. ‘It is terrible, father,’ said the man.  ‘We have not a bite left in the house and we are starving.  Will you spare us a little corn, for we...

The First Bushman Water in a desert country is so precious that for those who depend on it, it can assume divine properties. To the Bushman water is the ancient symbol of life. In it he can revitalize himself an make a fresh start. His legendary hero, Mantis, appears at the time of the beginning of the world, when the face of the earth was covered with water. Mantis was carried over the tumult of the dark and turbulent water by a bee (bees, as honey makers, are an image of wisdom). The bee, however, became warier and colder as he searched for solid ground and Mantin felt heavier and heavier. He flew slower and sank down towards the water. At last, while floating on the water, the bee saw a great white flower, half-open, awaiting the sun’s first rays. He laid Mantis in the heart of the flower and planted within him the seed of the first human being. Then the bee died. But as the sun rose and warmed the flower, Mantin awoke and there, from the seed left by the bee, the first Bushman was born. Mantis, Ostrich and Fire In addition to life, Mantis also brought the first...

There were ten beautiful girls belonging to one family. One day, while they were playing together in the river .....

There was drought upon the land. The clouds that carried the rain sailed high above, not seeming to notice the suffering of Africa....

There was once so they say a Zulu chief who sat day after day gazing sadly into the distance.

Stories from Africa is a page of stories sourced from a number of indigenous people and publications. The African culture is peppered with raconteurs and praise singers, seeping the hills and valleys in colourful oratory and spoken words captivating for ever the hidden mysteries of South and Southern Africa This page has been added because Africa is a continent of the spoken word. The history of its earliest people, their life style, cultures, passing into the realm of the past, those who lived here, the guardians of Africa never recorded their history in the written word. In rock etchings and delicate paintings dispersed widely throughout the sub-continent, Yes but the stories of life, the very fabric of the life was passed from generation to generation, from Father to Son, Mother to Daughters, from Granddfather to Grandson. Stories, an intregal part of the cultural maturity, told around wood fires in smoked filled thatched roofed huts, in the flickering glow of the cooking fires, under star lit night skies. Stories told by aging Grandmothers to bright young women passing from one cycle to the next in isolated initiation ceremonies hidden from prying eyes, sacred rights of passage nervously undertaken. Hidden voices speaking in hushed...

Once upon a time, there was a girl, who had no father and no mother. But they left her all their cattle, their, sheep and their goats. But the girl had no one to help her look after them. So she said, “Well – what can I do? I must let the sheep and the goats wander away by themselves, and just keep the cattle only.” And that is what she did. But even then the cattle were far too many for her. Every day, men would come and steal one or two and she didn’t know how to stop them. Then, one morning, when she was walking down the Valley of Choncho, near the Gomo refu-refu, the High Hill, who should cross her path right in front of her, but a Great Baboon. “Oh! Baboon, “she said to herself, “If only you were a man, you would herd my cattle for me.” Now the Baboon heard what she said, and he called out, “Yes, I’ll herd your cattle for you if you’ll give me some of those oranges you have there.” “Ooh! Thank you, thank you!” said the girl. “Of course I’ll give you some oranges. But won’t the men be...

Once upon a time there was a man and his wife and they were working together in their fields. And the wife she turned to her husband and said, “Please”, she said, “I want to go and see my mother” And he said, “What! Again?” “Yes”, she said, “It’s very important” “All right”, he said. “You can go. But when you go, don’t you take the big path that goes down the valley. There are lions there. You take the little path that goes up over the hills that all the people take”. So she said she would. Then she picked up her child and slung him onto her back, put her pot on top of her head and off she went. Well, she hadn’t been gone more than – oh, a very short while – when he said to himself, “I do believe my wife is on the wrong path. Sure of it!”. So the threw down his hoe, went off to his hut, picked up his little instrument of music, his Mbira, (you know, the little one he plays between hid hands), and off he went down the path. Now when he got to the place where the two paths...

Once upon a time there was a snake who bit a girl and the men of the village were very angry. So they chased him and chased him; and they chased him all the way down to the river. Now, there was a man in a boat, and the snake said, “Quick! Take me across to the other side” “What is your hurry?” said the man. “Never you mind/1 I’ll ell you afterwards,” said the snake. So the man took him across the river. “Now tell me, what was your hurry?’ said the man. “Oh, me?” said the snake. “I bit a girl and the men were chasing me, and now I am going to bite you too” “Ah, you wouldn’t do that,” said the man. “I’ve just taken you across the river!” “Oh yes, I would” said the snake “There are no good men anywhere.” “No good men? But there must be some good men” “Ah no! There are not” said the snake. “If you don’t believe me, you go and ask that old Fig Tree over there.” So the man went to ask the Fig Tree. “Fig Tree,” he said. “There’s a serpent here down by the river who says...

The stories here are a few among a long list of stories told by mothers and grandmothers, fathers and grand fathers to their sons and daughters as the traditional, oral history of the tribe. This practice started a long, long time before the advent of the written word. These stories were and are told in warm, darkened, single roomed round structured rondavels. Built traditionally of clay brick this circular structure with only a single door and a two glass less windows will be lit by the light of day or later with only the embers of the communal fire glowing in the center of the communal living room. These huts are set on grassy slopes and spread throughout the rural farms and communities and have been this way for centuries as has the practice of passing down the oral traditions of the tribe from generation to generation. The Xhosa The Xhosa, the so-called red blanket people were the first bantu tribe to be encountered by the early white pioneers in their move, west up the coast of the Cape colony. Many of bitter frontier war was fought between them in the early days of the colony. The Xhosa are of Nguni stock...

Introducing the Bushmen also know as the San or !Kung people On religion: Kung, like the Bushmen as a whole, are traditional tribal religionists and very close to Christianity. They believe the celestial bodies (sun, moon, morning star, and the southern cross) are symbols of divinity. They believe the praying mantis is a divine messenger and when one is seen, diviners try to determine the current message. Other animals also have spiritual significance for them. They also believe that dancing near a sacred fire will give them the power to heal. Their spiritual leaders are diviners and healers. Legends play an important role in the life of the!Kung. Each story is someone’s perception of the supernatural. Each tells its own truth, bringing to light some aspect of the divine.They believe ancestors are involved in curing rituals, but they do not revere the dead as the Bantu peoples do. The sacred Tsodilo Hills are legendary. The story goes that a man had two wives, but he loved one wife more than the other, and this caused a big quarrel. The one he didn’t love hit him on the head, causing a deep wound. Then she ran off into the desert. But the Great...

Bushman story of how the wagtail got its necklace. The Wagtail is one of our prettiest and most delicate birds, which has lived alongside man for many generations. The gentle Bushmen loved this bird too.  The friendship began long ago when the Bushmen lived in the Cape in low caves with rocky walls and sandy floors. The steep, rocky sides of the Kloofs ( Narrow valleys) sheltered them from the biting winds of winter and the scorching heat of the summer sun. These kloofs also held water and, in this dry land, it was good to have a constant water supply flowing by your door. So the Bushmen lived in the Cape mountains, hunting and gathering roots, fruit and berries, talking and dancing and singing and painting.  They were happy people and very content with their homes and surroundings.  Then one day the sand-flies came. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Millions breeding by the running water – burrowing into the sandy floors of the caves – biting men, women and children. The Bushmen could do nothing. The sand-flies multiplied and multiplied until whole valleys were plagued by them. The Bushmen held a council meeting and decided to move. All the caves...

There are many stories told of the sun, moon and stars. Some stories say that the Sun was once a man from whose armpits shone rays of light. He dwelt alone in a hut and his light shone only for himself. Some children belonging to the first Bushmen were sent to throw the sleeping Sun up into the sky, from where he now shines upon all. In the evening, he draws his blanket of darkness over himself to keep warm. But the blanket is old and has many little holes in it and at night the sun still sparkles through them to make stars. Another story tells of a lonely young girl who waits the return of her hunter companions.  To light their way in the darkness of the night she throws up a handful of white woodash from the fire. This becomes the Milky Way and even when their is no moon, its light guides the hunters home. The Moon, say the Bushmen, is really an old shoe belonging to the Mantis, who threw it up in to the air to guide himself. As it rises, it is red with the red dust of Bushmanland, and cold like old leather. They...

The Bushman’s god is nothing other than the unseen but all-encompassing prescence of the wilderness and the vast sky and mountain. They prayed occasionlly to the Sun or the Moon and the Stars, but they could give no explanation as to why they did this. Sometimes they called this prescence ‘Kaang’ or ‘Cagn’ and not only attributed to him human characteristics, but also many charms and magical powers. Bushmen also appear to have had a belief in an afterlife. A dead man’s weapons were buried with him, and his face was turned to the rising sun, as they believed that were he to face the west it would take the sun longer to rise the next day. For burial the bodies were sometimes annointed with a red powder and melted fat. They were then placed in shallow graves, in a curled-up position – the favourite sleeping posture of man in life. Some African tribes would break the bones of their dead upon internment (perhaps to deter their ghosts from walking and wandering around), but the Bushmen never did this. They allowed the corpse to remain intact, and merely raised a small cairn of stones over it to prevent wild beasts from scratching...

A short introduction to the Rock art of southern Africa. Rock Painting There are over 15 000 sites in Southern Africa where such paintings have been found. The oldest in Namibia maybe as old as 27 000 years,though most were probably painted within the last 2 000 years. the Kloofs of the Cape Mountains. The Cedarberg and the Baviaanskloof, in particular – have many caves with beautiful paintings on their walls and ceilings. The best examples however are to be found in the massive mountains to the north “The Barrier of Spears” as the nguni knew this range of mountains.Now called the Drakensberg. Here the paintings take on different hews, known as polychrome paintings and are exquisit in their fine detail and delicacy. The Bushmen lived in the mountains for centuaries before the spread of European ‘civilization’, destroyed their old way of life. Pictures by Alan Fogarty Top Enquire by E-Mail

“O Heitsi-Eibib Hail! Our forefather, Send luck to me. Give into my hand the wild game. Let me find honeycomb and sweet roots And I will sing your praise. Are you not our Father’s father You, Heitsi-Eibib? (T. Hahn, The native tribes of S.W. Africa.) The Khoikhoi It is said that the Khoikhoi, probably originated in the Horn of Africa and from there, they migrated to the region of the Great lakes. Driven from this area by the Bantu (Nguni) tribes, they then migrated to Southern Africa. Some of the clans of the community were left behind, however, and became independent settlements. The strange name of the Hottentots ( as they were called ) was given to these people by early Dutch visitors to Southern Africa who first met up with them near the Cape of Good Hope. Dapper, writing in the 1670’s states that they were given the name because of the harsh, guttural, and generally curious sounds of the language they spoke. The same name is applied in Dutch to one who stammers and stutters. Far from considereing themselves mere stammerers, however, these men called themselves the Khoi-Khoi or Men of Men’, and they drew a sharp line between themselves...

Stories from the Cape of Good Hope or the infamous Cape of Storms The Cape of Storms No one who has seen the vast and mysterious-looking bulk of Table Mountain looming up out of the ocean as their ship draws slowly through the dawn towards the southernmost tip of Africa could fail to be awed and impressed by this unique sight. As Bartholomew Dias, the Portugese explorer who discovered the Cape in 1488, must have been. Standing on the deck of his tiny ship as the strange landfall slowly reared its mass above the horizon, he must have thought that he was witnessing the upsurge of some gigantic Titan of the deep – a Titan with it’s head veiled in the white clouds of the south easter wind, and it’s voice the roar of the yeasty tides that foamed around it’s feet. With him to share at this inspiring moment was a man who was to become a singular link between African and the discovery of American – Bartholomew Columbus, brother of the famed Christopher Columbus, who discovered America. Camoes, the Portugese poet who describes in his beautiful poem Lusiadas, tells how the Titan Adamastor was condemned to dwell imprisoned forever in...

The Great Karoo The Spectral Hitchhiker From the distant dark days of Jan Prinsloo to the modern age of motorbikes and tarred highways seems a great jump, but the mysterious atmosphere of the Little Karoo is unchanging. Not far from Uniondale on the national road, there is a turn-off that leads to Barandas. Here no one will pick up a hitchhiker – especially a girl – around Easter. For it is at that time that a young girl stands hitchhiking at the roadside, dressed in dark slacks and shirt. She has accepted a lift from many an unsuspecting motorists – only to leave them, suddenly and inexplicably, 17 km further on, at the next turn-off to Barendas. In her lifetime, this vanishing lady, one Marie Charlotte Roux.is said to have been a nurse, who lived at Riversdale in the Western Cape. One wet and stormy Easter weekend, she was travelling with her fiancé to Bloemfontein to visit her parents when tragedy struck. Near Uniondale, at the first turn-off to Barendas, she fell asleep. At the second turn-off to Barendas, 17 km further on, there was a terrible accident and she was killed instantly.  It seems as though her abrupt transition from sleep...