Story Time

Cold season is a beautiful time of year here in Senegal. Everyone pulls out their heaviest winter coat that they found at the fukijai (Senegal's version of a thrift store) and at night, with the stars crisp in the sky, families sit around the fire and tell stories to each other. Now, I love a good story, and it was this love of stories that prompted me to do a radio program on Malinke and American tales. I began by translating a few of our stories into Malinke. However, America and Senegal don't always share common creatures; thus the Three Little Pigs becomes the Three Little Warthogs. There are no wolves here, so instead the boy is crying lion. Similarly, it's a big bad hyena that Little Red Riding Hood encounters at her grandma's house.

One day I began to recount these stories to some kids in my compound, but was quickly hushed. "Don't tell a story during the day," my sister Tunkho warned, "or your parents will die." (I immediately went and apologized to my mom for killing her, who laughed at me while she swept the compound.) So it was under a blanket of darkness, with the stars as witness, that I recorded my grandmother's telling their own stories for the radio show. The following is a loose translation of their tales.

Marriage Material
Young Bintou always dreamed of getting married, but when she shared this dream with her mom, her mom refused to let her marry. "My husband doesn't have enough money to take a second wife," her mom thought, "and I need some help around the house." When Bintou heard this, she cried and ran away to the woods. This seemed a suitable enough arrangement, since everyday Bintou's mom would prepare food and bring it to her in the woods. But woods are never without their own dangers, and everyday lions appeared and tried to entice Bintou out of her hiding place. They wanted to eat her. Bintou was a wise enough girl to recognize a lion, but not wise enough to recognize their tricks. One day, a lion transformed itself into a person, probably a rather kingly-looking person, and called for her to come out. Based on the argument with her mom, we're already aware of Bintou's predilection for men, so she came right out of her hiding place and was promptly eaten - all except her clothes. That day when Bintou's mom came to deliver her meal, she found the empty clothes and knew what had happened. She cried, tore her hair, beat her breast a little bit, then when she calmed down, she declared, "From now on, all my kids will marry."

Don't tell stories in the middle of the day! they warned.

Women's Lib
One day the village leper - who was having trouble finding a wife - went to the chief to ask for his help in such matters. The chief agreed that if the leper worked in his house for two years, he would give one of his five daughters in marriage. Fast forward into the future - we see the leper get married, have a son, who becomes chief, who also marries, has five girls and one boy - and we're caught up in time. This new chief was so protective of his daughters he wouldn't let them leave the house. He went so far as to post a guard at his gate at night and said "If anyone comes a knocking at night, kill them!" Well, one night, the chief's son was out late. I imagine he was doing what the young men in my village do late at night - he was sitting at the boutique drinking tea. This suffices for a "night on the town." In any case, the son came home late, knocked on the gate and, as you can imagine, was immediately killed by the guard, who was just following orders (the ethical implications of this are a bit hazy). The chief, upon hearing the news, realized only he was to blame for the death of his son and declared that from then on out, the gates would be open and his daughters would be allowed to leave the house.

It Pays to Deceive
In a distant land, not so far from where I'm living now, there were two kings. One king had a daughter, the other, a son. Now, on paper, this fits together nicely like a puzzle - the two offspring of the kings should marry. And yet, one day, the princess announced publicly that she would never marry that prince (she had a few other choice words for him as well). When that prince heard her declaration, he was a bit hurt, as you can imagine, but he was the type of person who saw the ataaya glass as half full; he came up with a plan. He dressed himself up in all the accoutrements of a respectable young lady - headscarf included - and went to pay the princess a visit. Keep in mind that this is a culture that delights in hospitality, and it's not at all strange to accept a foreigner into your home as a friend. (Except for the cross-dressing thing - that's a little strange.) In any case, the two chatted all day about this and that while making tea and shelling peanuts. As the shadows grew long and the muezzin called out for prayer time, the prince(ss) declared it time to go and the princess decided to accompany her new friend home. On the way, they passed a herd of 100 cows. "Whose cows are those?" the princess asked. "My father's," was the reply. The princess, revealing her depth of character, said "Oh wow. If you were a man, I'd marry you." (Close up shot of the prince's face with a twinkle in his eye.) A similar exchange happened when the two passed a herd of 100 sheep, and then 100 goats. By the time they reached the prince's home, the princess realized who her new friend was. Retracting her earlier public announcement, she then and there agreed to marry the prince.