a. Anansi and Mosquito.

George Parkes, Mandeville.

An ol’ lady have a daughter which no one know the name, an she never call the name at all make no one hear it. So she offered a hundred pound to anyone who could tell the girl name. Anansi say he mus’ get that money. Now he went an’ mak a bargain with Mosquito that Mosquito mus’ go in the girl room, as he’s a small man an’ can go thru crevices, an’ he, Anansi will go underneath the mother room. In the night while the girl was sleeping, Mosquito went an’ sing at her ear; an’ the girl then knock her han’ up on Mosquito an’ say, “Go ‘way!” At that time the mother stop into her room an’ hear. After a little time, Mosquito went back to the girl ear an’ sing again. The girl knock after him an’ say, “Go ‘way!” again. Anansi underneath the mother’s room give a clear listening. A little time after, Mosquito went back to the girl an’ sing at her ear. She then knock after him again an’ say, “Go ‘Way!” The mother then called to the girl, said, ‘Zegrady, Zegrady, what’s the matter?” The daughter said, “It is something worrying me in my sleep, mum.” Anansi never wait now for Mosquito, run right to his house, take up his fiddle an’ begin to play,–

“Zegrady, Zegrady, Zegra, Zegrady,
Come shake up Anansi hand, My dear!”

The next morning he start for the house and play. So the girl bear her name and say, “Mother, I heard someone call my name!” So the old woman invite Anansi to come in an’ Anansi get the money, never give Mosquito none. So from that day is why Mosquito flying at people ear making noise, because Anansi rob him out of the money.

b. Anansi plays Baby. (1)

Eliza Barrett, Harmony Hall, Cock-pit country.

There was t’ree sister living to a house. Nobody was to know their names. An’ Anansi want to hear them an’ he couldn’t get them, An’ he have a young man an’ turn the young man into a baby (an’ turn himself the baby mother), an’ he carry the baby go an’ ask them if they min’ the baby for her; tell ‘em say, when part of the day the baby crying they mus’ bathe the baby for her. {p. 119} An’ one of the sister name Santa Cruka. Santa Cruka take the baby an’ ‘trip him an’ put him into a bowl, an’ Santa Cruka said, “Run come a sister Aminty! ever see such a little baby have such a big man place?” An’ Aminta say, “Run come, Sister Amata! ever see such a little baby have such a big man place?” So when de baby mother come now an’ carry the baby under a tree, the baby tell the mother, “That one name Santa Cruka, an’ the other one name Aminta, an’ the other one name Amata.” An’ he put down the baby an’ he turn a big tall man before him. An’ he go up to de t’ree lady an’ said, “Missus, is not you name Mistress Santa Cruka? An’ she go into her room an’ drop down dead. An’ go back to Aminta an’ say, “Sister, is not you right name Sister Aminta?” An’ she drop down die. An’ go back to Sister Amata an’ say, “Is not you right name Sister Amata?” An’ (she) drop down dead. An’ (Anansi) take all the richness of the three sisters an’ never care to go home.

b. Anansi plays baby. (2)

Henry Spence, Bog, Westmoreland.

Anansi go to a groun’. Nobody know dose two sister name, not from dem born. So he come bet dat him will fin’ out dem two sister name. When he come home, he said to his wife him going to fawn himself a baby an’ de wife mus tek job grass-weeding at de groun’ fe dem two women, when him gwine, mus’ put him quite unter de shady tree as a baby. An’ de wife did so. So when de two woman go under de tree, mek much of de baby, nice baby! So as dem woman play wid de baby, de baby laugh, mout’ full of teeth. Two sisters frighten to see young baby have so much teeth. So one of de sister say, “Sister Agumma, run see Anansi baby mout’ full of teet’!” Sister Agumma run come an’ see. Anansi catch dat name. Sister Agumma come say, “O sister Agumme, a-a-ah! Anansi baby mout’ full of teet’ fe true!” Anansi catchy bot’ name an’ win de money.

b. Anansi plays baby. (3)

Richard Morgan, Santa Cruz Mountains.

Der is a man livin’ at a town for eight years, nobody know his name. Hanansi say, “Ma tek off me trousers, put on me long shirt, kyar’ me go a man yard, let him nurse me till you come home from ground.” De baby stay good all de while. When he see h’ mudder comin’ home, de baby creep, cryin’, go to his mudder. {p. 120} De man went to tek him back, said, “What kind of baby dis count fe, he see he mudder he start to cry?” Meanwhile he go to tek de baby an’ saw de shirt jump up in de back. Him ‘toop down, him peep, him knock him han’. “Mercy, me Lord! what kind of a baby got such long hair on him so, poor me, Tom Goody!” Den de baby gwine to his mudder cryin’ “Tommy Goody!” So from dat day, de whole town fin’ out de man dat he name Tommy Goody.

NOTE:

Hidden Names; Anansi and Mr. Able.

These two numbers are closely related to number 69. The plot turns upon tricks to discover a hidden name. The only difference between them is that in one story it is possession of one or more girls’ names, in the next, that of a person whose name the girls alone know, upon which the plot depends. All the variants play upon the idea of concealing a listener to surprise the keeper of the secret (invariably girls) into betraying each other. See Jekyll, 11-13, where the king and queen kill themselves, as in number 93, when they hear the girls’ names sung.

Compare Barker, 45-49; Dayrell, 79-80; Dennet, 35-38; Parsons, Andros Island, 117.

In Dayrell, Tortoise gets the wives to call out the husband’s name in fright, and he is so ashamed when he hears it that he takes to the water.

In Barker, Anansi drops down bananas sweetened with honey to the girls and they call to each other in surprise.

Jamaica Anansi Stories ,Martha Warren Beckwith, New York, Published By The American Folk-Lore Society, G. E. Stechert & Co., Agents. [1924] and is now in the public domain.

“Hiadeoni was the father of the late chief Young-king. He was a Seneca warrior, a man of great prowess, dexterity, and swiftness of foot, and had established his reputation for courage and skill on many occasions. He resolved while the Seneca were still living on the Genesee river to make an incursion alone into the country of the Cherokee. He plumed himself with the idea that he could distinguish himself in this daring adventure, and he prepared for it, according to the custom of warriors. They never encumber themselves with baggage. He took nothing but his arms and the meal of a little parched and pounded corn. The forest gave him his meat.

Hiadeoni reached the confines of the Cherokee country in safety and alone. He waited for evening before he entered the precincts of a village. He found the people engaged in a dance. He watched his opportunity, and when one of the dancers went out from the ring into the bushes he dispatched him with his hatchet. In this way he killed two men that night in the skirts of the woods without exciting alarm, and took their scalps and retreated. It was late when he came to a lodge, standing remote from the rest, on his course homeward. Watching here, he saw a young man come out, and killed him as he had done the others, and took his scalp. Looking into the lodge cautiously he saw it empty, and ventured in with the hope of finding some tobacco and ammunition to serve him on his way home.

While thus busied in searching the lodge he heard footsteps at the door, and immediately threw himself on the bed from which the young man had risen, and covered his face, feigning sleep. They proved to be the footsteps of his last victim’s mother. She, supposing him to be her son, whom she had a short time before left lying there, said, “My son, I am going to such a place, and will not be back till morning.” He made a suitable response, and the old woman went out. Insensibly he fell asleep, and knew nothing till morning, when the first thing he heard was the mother’s voice. She, careful for her son, was at the fireplace very early, pulling some roasted squashes out of the ashes, and after putting them out, and telling him she left them for him to eat, she went away. He sprang up instantly and fled; but the early dawn had revealed his inroad, and he was hotly pursued. Light of foot, and having the start, he succeeded in reaching and concealing himself in a remote piece of woods, where he laid till night, and then pursued his way toward the Genesee, which, in due time he reached, bringing his three Cherokee scalps as trophies of his victory and prowess. “–Schoolcraft, Notes on Iroquois, p. 253, 1847.

Myths of the Cherokee by James Mooney. From the Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology 1897-98, Part I. [1900] and is now in the public domain.

[Emerson version.] Pele has made her home with her brothers and sisters at the crater of Mokuaweoweo. She falls into a deep sleep during which her spirit leaves her body and, following the sound of the nose-flute (Kani-ka-wi) and the whistle (Kani-ka-wa), arrives at the island of Kauai while a hula dance is in progress. She takes the form of a beautiful woman and wins the young chief Lohiau as her husband. Upon leaving him on the third (or ninth) night, she bids him await her messenger to bring him to the house she is making ready for him. [In Rice's version this meeting precedes her digging experiments from island to island.] In the meantime, her faithful sister has watched over her inert body and is relieved to see it return to consciousness. Pele calls for a messenger and Hi‘iaka-i-ka-poli-o-Pele is the only one of her household brave enough to face the dangers of the way. The girl demands and is given the powers of a god in order to pass through the ordeal in safety. Entrusting her beloved lehua groves and her friend Hopoe to the care of her sister and receiving her sister’s last commands not to indulge in embraces on the way and to return within forty days, she sets forth on her perilous journey.

On the way she provides herself with women companions. Her old nurse Pau-o-palai (Skirt of palai fern) accompanies her as far as Kohala, where she remains with her husband Paki‘i until the girl’s return. A half goddess named Wahine-omao (Thrush-woman), daughter of Kai-palaoa and Puna-hoa, is the only one who makes the entire journey with her. Another girl, Papulehu, joins her on the way but has not the spiritual qualifications to survive even the first of the dangers encountered.

Choosing the upland path across Hawaii, the party must first exterminate the evil mo‘o who make the way dangerous. With the help of the war gods Kuliliaukaua and Kekako‘i and the shell-conch blowers Kamaiau, Kahinihini, and Mapu, Hi‘iaka fights and overcomes a number of these monsters. The mo‘o woman Panaewa, who impedes her way in the form first of fog (kino-ohu), then of sharp rain (kino-au-awa), then of a candle-nut (kukui) tree, she entangles the mo‘o and her followers, the Na-mu and Na-wa in a growth of vine [or engulfs them in the sea]. Two mo‘o, Kiha and Pua‘a-loa (Long hog), are caught in a flood of lava, where their forms may be seen to this day. The shark at the mouth of Waipio valley who seizes swimmers crossing the bay is met and slain. Mo‘olau, chief of the jumping mo‘o (mahiki) in the land of Mahiki-waena, is defied, his followers put to rout, and the wounds bound up of two men the mo‘o have mangled. Two mo‘o, Pili and Noho, who make travelers pay toll at the bridge across the Wailuku river, are rent from jaw to jaw and the way opened for free traffic. The prudish ghost god Hinahina-ku-i-ka-pali, who objects to the girls swimming naked across the stream Honoli‘i while holding their clothing above their heads, is reproved and put to silence.

Crossing to Maui, the girls avoid the attentions of the paddlers Pi‘i-kea-nui and Pi‘i-kea-iki and proceed along the coast. A maimed spirit named Manamana-i-aka-luea is seen dancing the hula mu‘umu‘u (maimed) and her spirit nature is tested by throwing a hala fruit and seeing her figure instantly vanish. Omao catches the spirit and the girls restore it to its lifeless body. Refused hospitality at the home of the chief Olepau [or Kaulahea] in Iao valley, Hi‘iaka avenges the insult by catching his second soul, as it goes fluttering about while he lies sleeping, and dashing it against the rock Pahalele near Waihe‘e. At the advice of the kahuna Kuakahi-mahiku, the chief’s friends attempt to overtake and conciliate Hi‘iaka but are tricked by concealing transformations. At the hill Pulehu the two take the shapes of an old woman and child with a dog; at Kalaula‘ola‘o, of girls stringing blossoms; at Kapua in Kaanapali they appear as women braiding mats for a new house. [In Rice's version other incidents occur and the chief is restored to life.]

Crossing next to Molokai, the girls choose the route along the dangerous windy side of the island and make the passage to Oahu from Kaunakakai. The single adventure described is the banishing of the lawless mo‘o tribe who have robbed women of their husbands, and the slaying of the mo‘o woman Kikipua who has stolen Oloku‘i from his wife Papaua, deserted her own husband Hakaaano, and made a false bridge of her tongue to destroy travelers. Hi‘iaka makes use of her skirt (pau) as a bridge, over which the girls pass safely. The mourning women whose husbands have been destroyed by the mo‘o band she however reproves for indulging in useless hysteria.

Again choosing the rocky side of the island on Oahu, Hi‘iaka addresses chants to the rocks Maka-pu‘u and Malei, whom she recognizes as her own supernatural relatives; greets Pohakuloa at Ka-ala-pueo (The owl road); and crushes the evil mo‘o Mokoli‘i at Kualoa. Kauhi, “with eye-sockets moist with the dripping dew from heaven,” wishes to go with her and, when she refuses his company, struggles up to a crouching position. So his form may be seen today along the rock wall of Kahana. At Kahipa she reproves Puna-he‘e-lapa and Pahipahi-alua for slipping away without a greeting. At Kehuahapu‘u she listens to the sound of the sea, notices the uki plant, and admires the beauty of Waialua. At the plain near Lauhulu she chants the praises of the mountain Kaala. At Kaena point she apostrophizes its huge boulders and begs the Rock-of-Kauai, left at sea when Maui’s fishline broke, to send her a canoe to cross to Kauai. It was from this point that her sister had listened to the music which lured her across the channel to Lohiau’s feast.

The restoration of Lohiau takes place on Kauai. Arrived on that island, the girls are entertained at the house of the chief Malae-ha‘a-koa, whose lameness they have cured, and learn of the death of Lohiau out of grief over the disappearance of the beautiful woman who came to him at the hula dance. Two women of Honopu, Kilioe-i-kapua and Kalana-mai-nu‘u, relatives of Kilioe, have stolen his body from the place where his sister Ka-hua-nui had laid it, and hidden it in an inaccessible cave high up on the cliff Kalalau [but in some versions Kilioe is Lohiau's sister and the hider herself of the body]. Hi‘iaka catches the fluttering spirit and destroys the two Honopu women by means of an incantation. She and Omao scale the cliff and for ten days, while the people below dance the hula, she recites the chants useful to restore a spirit to its body. At the end of this time Lohiau lives and all three descend on a rainbow and purify themselves in the ocean.

The return voyage is now to be undertaken. Meanwhile the forty days’ limit set by Pele for the journey has been already covered and more delays are still before them. Between Kauai and Oahu the shark gods Kua and Kahole-a-Kane and the sea goddess Moana-nui-ka-lehua raise a storm to prevent the match between their divine relative Pele and a mere mortal like Lohiau. Hi‘iaka -chooses the overland route across the island of Oahu while the other two round the island by canoe. At Pohakea she climbs the ridge, looks across to her home on Hawaii, and voices a bitter lament when she sees her beloved forests in flames and her friend Hopoe wrapped in burning lava. Still true to her mission in spite of her sister’s betrayal, she chants a warning to the two alone in the canoe to indulge in no love making. At Kou (Honolulu) the party is entertained by the famous prophetess Pele-ula, a former lady-love of Lohiau, and Hi‘iaka contends with her hostess in a kilu game for his possession, but refuses to take advantage at that time of her success. [Some accounts state that at this point the three fashion visible bodies for themselves out of spittle and, leaving these behind, go in their spirit bodies to Hanauma bay, where they pass over to Maui.]

The death of Lohiau takes place as a climax to Pele’s jealousy. Without waiting for an explanation from the two women who go ahead to acquaint Pele with the story of their adventures, the angry goddess, furious at the long delay, overwhelms them with fire. At this, Hi‘iaka, for the first time and on the very edge of the crater in full view of her sister, accepts Lohiau’s embraces. Pele calls upon her sisters to consume Lohiau, but they pity his beauty. She invokes her gods but they call her unjust and blow away the flame, for which disloyalty she banishes them to the barren lands of Huli-nu‘u; and that is how Ku-pulupulu,  Ku-moku-hali‘i, Ku-ala-nawao, Kupa-ai-ke‘e, and Ku-mauna came to sail away and become canoe makers in other lands. Finally Pele herself encircles the lovers with flame. Hi‘iaka has been given a divine body and cannot be hurt, but Lohiau’s body is consumed.

The second restoration of Lohiau to life follows. Hi‘iaka digs down after him through the earth, passing at the first stratum of earth the god of suicide, at the fourth the bodies of her two women friends, whom she restores to life. She is about to rend the tenth layer when Wahine-omao warns her against letting in the water upon her sister. Lohiau’s spirit, fluttering overseas, first to Kauai, where he bids his friend Paoa seek Pele, then to La‘a in Kahiki, is caught by Kane-milo-hai who has been left to guard the outposts of the group, and restored to life. At first he is listless, but La‘a’s bird messengers, Plover and Turnstone, rouse him to interest in human affairs. At Pele-ula’s home he is reunited to Hi‘iaka. [In Rice's version he is sent back to Kauai by canoe. In one legend Omao becomes the wife of Lono makua.]

Hawaiian Mythology, by Martha Beckwith, Yale University Press [1940, copyright not renewed] and is now in the public domain.

Twenty days passed, and it was time to perform the dog vision with heyokas. But before I tell you how we did it, I will say something about heyokas and the heyoka ceremony, which seems to be very foolish, but is not so.

Only those who have had visions of the thunder beings of the west can act as heyokas. They have sacred power and they share some of this with all the people, but they do it through funny actions. When a vision comes from the thunder beings of the west, it comes with terror like a thunder storm; but when the storm of vision has passed, the world is greener and happier; for wherever the truth of vision comes upon the world, it is like a rain. The world, you see, is happier after the terror of the storm.

But in the heyoka ceremony, everything is backwards, and it is planned that the people shall be made to feel jolly and happy first, so that it may be easier for the power to come to them. You have noticed that the truth comes into this world with two faces. One is sad with suffering, and the other laughs; but it is the same face, laughing or weeping. When people are already in despair, maybe the laughing face is better for them; and when they feel too good and are too sure of being safe, maybe the weeping face is better for them to see. And so I think that is what the heyoka ceremony is for.

There was a man by the name of Wachpanne (Poor) who took charge of this ceremony for me, because he had acted as a heyoka many times and knew all about it. First he told all the people to gather in a circle on the flat near Pine Ridge, and in the center, near a sacred tepee that was set there, he placed a pot of water which was made to boil by dropping hot stones from a fire into it. First, he had to make an offering of sweet grass to the west. He sat beside the fire with some sweet grass in his hand, and said: “To the Great Spirit’s day, to that day grown old and wise, I will make an offering.” Then, as he sprinkled the grass upon the fire and the sweet smoke arose, he sang:

This I burn as an offering.
Behold it!
A sacred praise I am making.
A sacred praise I am making.
My nation, behold it in kindness!
The day of the sun has been my strength.
The path of the moon shall be my robe.
A sacred praise I am making.
A sacred praise I am making.”

Then the dog had to be killed quickly and without making any scar, as lightning kills, for it is the power of the lightning that heyokas have.

Over the smoke of the sweet grass a rawhide rope was held to make it sacred. Then two heyokas tied a slip noose in the rope and put this over the neck of the dog. Three times they pulled the rope gently, one at each end of the rope, and the fourth time they jerked it hard, breaking the neck. Then Wachpanne singed the dog and washed it well, and after that he cut away everything but the head, the spine and the tail. Now walking six steps away from the pot, one for each of the Powers, he turned to the west, offering the head and spine to the thunder beings, then to the north, the east and the south, then to the Spirit above and to Mother Earth.

After this, standing where he was, six steps away, he faced the pot and said: “In a sacred manner I thus boil this dog.” Three times he swung it, and the fourth time he threw it so that it fell head first into the boiling water. Then he took the heart of the dog and did with it just what he had done with the head and spine.

During all this time, thirty heyokas, one for each day of a moon, were doing foolish tricks among the people to make them feel jolly. They were all dressed and painted in such funny ways that everybody who saw them had to laugh. One Side and I were fellow clowns. We had our bodies painted red all over and streaked with black lightning. The right sides of our heads were shaved, and the hair on the left side was left hanging long. This looked very funny, but it had a meaning; for when we looked toward where you are always facing (the south) the bare sides of our heads were toward the west, which showed that we were humble before the thunder beings who had given us power. Each of us carried a very long bow, so long that nobody could use it, and it was very crooked too. The arrows that we carried were very long and very crooked, so that it looked crazy to have them. We were riding sorrels with streaks of black lightning all over them, for we were to represent the two men of my dog vision.

Wachpanne now went into the sacred tepee, where he sang about the heyokas:

“These are sacred,
These are sacred,
They have said,
They have said.
These are sacred,
They have said.”

Twelve times he sang this, once for each of the moons.

Afterward, while the pot was boiling, One Side and I, sitting on our painted sorrels, faced the west and sang:

“In a sacred manner they have sent voices.
Half the universe has sent voices.
In a sacred manner they have sent voices to you.”

Even while we were singing thus, the heyokas were doing foolish things and making laughter. For instance, two heyokas with long crooked bows and arrows painted in a funny way, would come to a little shallow puddle of water. They would act as though they thought it was a wide, deep river that they had to cross; so, making motions, but saying nothing, they would decide to see how deep the river was. Taking their long crooked arrows, they would thrust these into the water, not downwards, but flat-wise just under the surface. This would make the whole arrow wet. Standing the arrows up beside them, they would show that the water was far over their heads in depth, so they would get ready to swim. One would then plunge into the shallow puddle head first, getting his face in the mud and fighting the water wildly as though he were drowning. Then the other one would plunge in to save his comrade, and there would be more funny antics in the water to make the people laugh.

After One Side and I had sung to the west, we faced the pot, where the heart and the head of the dog had been boiling. With sharp pointed arrows, we charged on horseback upon the pot and past it. I had to catch the head upon my arrow and One Side had to catch the heart, for we were representing the two men I had seen in the vision. After we had done this, the heyokas all chased us, trying to get a piece of the meat, and the people rushed to the pot, trying to get a piece of the sacred flesh. Ever so little of it would be good for them, for the power of the west was in it now. It was like giving them medicine to make them happier and stronger.

When the ceremony was over, everybody felt a great deal better, for it had been a day of fun. They were better able now to see the greenness of the world, the wideness of the sacred day, the colors of the earth, and to set these in their minds.

The Six Grandfathers have placed in this world many things, all of which should be happy. Every little thing is sent for something, and in that thing there should be happiness and the power to make happy. Like the grasses showing tender faces to each other, thus we should do, for this was the wish of the Grandfathers of the World.

One day Heron and Hummingbird decided to race each other. Indeed, all of the animals and birds loved nothing better than daring each other to a race (unless it was playing in a ball game). “Let us race from here to the big dead tree that stands on the bank of the wide river four days toward the sunset,” Heron said to Hummingbird.

“Agreed!” answered Hummingbird. “And who-ever lights on the tree first will own the right to the water and all the fish in it!”

“Agreed!” Heron squawked happily. “I shall win easily,” he bragged. “My wings are as much wider than yours as the deer’s legs are longer than the mouse’s.”

“Hah!” scoffed Hummingbird. “For every flap of your wings, mine beat many, many times. I can fly too fast for you to see.”

“We will see about that! Shall we set off at dawn tomorrow?” Hummingbird hesitated. “Dawn comes very early. Let us start at midday instead.”

So they did. When the sun was at its highest the next day, the two birds met. Long-legged Heron drew a line in the earth and stood behind it. Humming-bird hovered beside him, and together they cried, “Go!” Heron gave a great beat of his wings and rose into the air, then napped away west toward the far-off river. Hummingbird zipped along until he was far ahead, then stopped to sip from the blossoms of a flowering honeysuckle bush. While he was tasting their nectar. Heron flew past high overhead, flap-flap-flap. When Hummingbird was finished sipping from the flowers, he whizzed on and soon passed Heron. When he was miles ahead, he stopped in a meadow fringed with milkweed to taste a dozen or two. While he flitted from one flower head to the next. Heron passed overhead and flew steadily on – but it was not long before Hummingbird zipped ahead once again.

All day it went like this, but at night Humming-bird stopped to perch for the night, and sleep. Heron flew on. By dawn he was far ahead, but then Hummingbird awoke and whizzed along so fast that he passed Heron once again. The rest of the day went just as the day before had gone. At night-fall Hummingbird stopped again and slept until dawn while Heron traveled all night. When morning came, Hummingbird chased after him again and passed him. The third night and the fourth were the same.

On the fourth morning Hummingbird rose with the sun and zipped along happily, but when he came to the place where the dead tree stood on the bank of the great river. Heron was already there, sit-ting on its one dead branch.

“I see you, friend Hummingbird,” Heron called happily. “Don’t forget what we agreed. We said that whichever of us perched here first would win the right to all the water and the fish who live in it. The water is all mine, now! No drinking allowed.”

At first Hummingbird was too angry and surprised at losing to answer.

Then, “Poh!” he said haughtily. “Who needs water?”

And ever since that day he has drunk only the sweet nectar of flowers.

Taken from the book The Wonderful Sky Boat and Other Native American Tales of the Southeast retold by Jane Louise Curry