African Folk Tales Read online

  Now at last she had come to the town, and sat on the edge of the bush and looked at the lights, wondering how she would manage to make herself known to her sister.

  Now although Zara was unaware of the fact, Mizpah had made such efforts to find her that the story of the lost sister was generally known, and a dishonest tailor and his brother who was a merchant, and who lived some distance from the town, had decided to put a very wicked plan into action. The merchant had a young daughter of Zara’s age, who seemed to tally with the description Mizpah had given of her sister. “She is small and thin with big eyes, and she wears a charm in the form of a tortoise which I gave her.” Now the merchant’s daughter was small and thin with big eyes, and she was also clever and cunning. Her father and uncle had no doubt that with their help she could pretend to be Zara, and reap all the benefits to be gained from being sister of Mizpah. The only thing lacking was the charm. It had to be identical with the one Mizpah had given Zara, and so far they had not managed to find a suitable one.

  On the evening when Zara reached the outskirts of the town, the tailor was returning from a visit to his brother. He was an inquisitive fellow, and seeing a stranger sitting by the roadside he paused and asked if he could help her. He seemed so kind and friendly that Zara poured out her story, and the tailor almost beside himself because of the chance Fate had thrown in his way, did his best to conceal his elation.

  “This is an extraordinary story,” he told Zara. “I am willing to help you, but you can’t blame me for wanting more information.” Then he proceeded to ply her with questions until he had all sorts of details about the girl’s home life, their relatives, in fact everything he needed to enable his niece to make good her claim that she was really the lost sister.

  At length he had sufficient, and he pretended to pause and consider. “I am convinced you are telling me the truth,” he said at last. “But there are great difficulties ahead of you. It is very difficult to see your sister. You must remember she is a very important person. Also there are dangers. If your story were known evil people might try to steal the charm and put you out of the way. Now here is what I suggest. Down the road there lives a blacksmith and his wife. They are kind people, and if you go along and ask for food and shelter they will give it to you. But don’t give them your real name, or tell them your story. In the meanwhile I’ll take the charm to your sister. I have influence, and I shall be able to gain admission to her, and tomorrow evening I shall come and fetch you.”

  Poor Zara was torn by indecision. She hated parting with the charm, but she knew she would have great difficulty in obtaining an interview with Mizpah. At length, persuaded by the cunning arguments of the tailor, she agreed to his scheme, handed over the charm and set off down the road to the house of the blacksmith.

  As soon as the tailor had the charm he ran off as fast as he could back to the house of his brother. There he told the great news to the merchant and his daughter, and coached the girl in the story of Zara’s life until she knew it as well as a clever actress knows her part in a play.

  Then he travelled back through the night with the merchant and the girl, and as they travelled they concocted a story to explain how “Zara” had arrived in the town.

  Next morning, by dint of bribery, the merchant secured an interview with Mizpah on pretence of showing her some very beautiful materials.

  As soon as he was in her presence he spread a piece of cloth, and palming the charm, saw to it that her eyes fell on it, at the same time motioning her to secrecy.

  For a moment Mizpah turned deadly pale, and then commanded her maids to leave her.

  “Where did you get that?” she gasped as soon as she was alone with the merchant.

  “From your sister. On my way home two days ago I found a young girl who had fallen exhausted by the wayside. I took her to my home, and when she recovered she told me who she was, and that she wanted to see you.”

  “Where is she?” asked Mizpah eagerly.

  “Waiting outside,” said the merchant.

  “Bring her in quickly. Oh my sister, my dear little sister, is found. My prayers have been answered,” Mizpah sobbed, overcome with emotion.

  Within a few minutes the false Zara was ushered in. Well coached, she ran to her sister, and threw herself at her feet. Weeping, Mizpah raised the girl in her arms, and poured out questions, all of which “Zara” was able to answer. The merchant was delighted at the good performance his daughter was putting on. No one could have done better.

  Then Mizpah sent for her husband, and told him her lost sister was found. The young man was almost as overjoyed as his wife, and they did everything in their power to make the girl happy, and comfortable, so that she would forget past unhappiness.

  She was fed on delicious food, bathed in perfumed water, and dressed in beautiful garments. A great feast was prepared to celebrate the reunion of the sisters.

  Meanwhile the real Zara waited in the home of the blacksmith, and became more and more anxious. Her hosts were at a loss to comfort her because they did not know her story, and while they were wondering about her trouble, a neighbour arrived with the amazing news of the recovering of Mizpah’s lost sister. They were completely bewildered when their mysterious guest, who was also listening, suddenly gave a great cry, and fell to the ground unconscious. She was ill for many days afterwards, and as she began to recover Zara tried to make plans. She realised the dishonest tailor had tricked her, and that without the charm she was helpless. But she was a clever girl, and brave, and as she got better she made plans. She told the kind blacksmith that she wanted above all things to work in the palace. So when she was quite well the blacksmith approached a cousin who was a kitchen hand, and obtained work for Zara at the same humble tasks.

  Zara was clever and willing, and resolved to work her way up so that eventually she would come in contact with her sister, and the mysterious girl who was impersonating herself. As the weeks passed, tales began to circulate about the impostor. It was said that she was taking advantage of her position, was bad tempered, arrogant and greedy. That she had wheedled large sums of money out of Mizpah and her husband, and also jewellery, and that people were beginning to dislike her.

  Months passed. Still the impostor held her place, although she became more and more unpopular, and Mizpah more and more troubled at the character of her sister. In the meanwhile Zara made steady progress, and was now a sewing woman, and frequently saw Mizpah, and had spoken to her.

  “You are very pretty you know,” Mizpah said to her one day.

  Zara jumped.

  “Pretty? I’ve never been pretty,” she exclaimed.

  “But you are. Don’t you ever look in a mirror?” Mizpah asked.

  “No, I never bother. I was always very plain as a child, and I can’t believe I’ll ever be pretty now.”

  “What age are you?” Mizpah asked.

  “Fifteen!”

  “Just the same age as my sister,” Mizpah said softly, and with a sigh, turned and went away.

  About that time there came exciting developments for the impostor. An important man from further north was extremely desirous of making a wealthy and influential marriage for his son. He accordingly approached Mizpah’s husband to sound him out on the prospects of a marriage with Zara. Now if Zara had been the sweet and charming person Mizpah had described in the past, this idea would have borne no fruit, but as it was the husband saw it as a possible solution to a very painful situation. By this time Zara’s bad temper, arrogance and selfishness were notorious. Also her demands for clothes, money and jewellery seemed endless. The truth was, of course, that the impostor’s father and uncle were constantly urging her to make these demands, which she was compelled to do. Mizpah was dreadfully unhappy, even though she did not know half the painful truths about Zara’s rapacity, and all she could say in her sister’s defence was that the years of cruel slavery had affected her character, and that she would improve in time. But neither Mizpah nor anyone else could detect the slighte
st sign of improvement.

  So Mizpah’s husband went to his wife with every determination to be firm. He told her of the marriage offer, and said he must demand that it be acceded to, as he was not prepared to keep Zara in his home much longer. At first Mizpah wept because her lost sister was to be taken from her so soon, but in the end she had to admit that the marriage seemed the best way out for everyone.

  “But what of the young man?” she asked. “It seems unfair that he should have this burden thrust upon him.”

  “I shall give a good marriage portion,” said the husband. “I shall be glad to do so, and rid myself of further extortions.”

  So he returned to the father, sealed the marriage bargain, and the old man went back to his son. At first the son was angry. “I am quite well aware that you desire me to marry, but I object to all these arrangements being made behind my back. We are not poor, and I have no reason to marry for money. How do you know I shall like this girl?”

  “Is she not the sister of Mizpah who is famed for her great beauty, and sweetness of disposition? Why you might search the world and not find such a bride. You should be grateful to me for my wisdom and good luck in securing the girl for you.”

  Nevertheless it took some time to convince the young man, but in the end the father succeeded, and plans went ahead.

  Zara was busy sewing from morning until night, and she was nearly ill with worry over what had happened. She knew that a large marriage settlement would be made on the impostor, and once the marriage took place it would matter little what happened. She would be no longer in daily contact with Mizpah and would never be exposed, and the real Zara would have even less hope than before of unmasking the culprits.

  So matters continued until the eve of the wedding, which was to be a great event. That evening Zara went to visit her old friend the blacksmith, and was amazed when she walked into their house to find the fisherman who had taken her across the lake a year ago.

  They gazed at each other in astonishment.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded the fisherman.

  “This is a very great friend of ours,” explained the wife of the blacksmith.

  “But she’s the person I’ve come to seek—the lost sister—the one who broke her word, and never paid me for helping her,” shouted the fisherman.

  At that everyone started to talk at once, and it was some minutes before Zara, who realised that the whole truth must now be told, could make herself heard. It was a long story, and when she had finished they gaped at her in amazement.

  “You do recognise me, don’t you?” she asked the fisherman. “And you do remember the charm I wore round my neck?”

  “Of course I remember it,” replied the fisherman. “When I heard the story later, that was how I knew who you were. I trusted you, and I was sure you would not forget me. Then I began to hear how you—I mean the other one—were greedy and selfish, and I then resolved that I was going to get my rights because but for me helping you, you—I mean the other one—but of course it was really you.” The fisherman paused, completely muddled in his attempts to explain.

  “I understand,” Zara told him. “It is wonderful that you came because now at last the truth can be made known.”

  “I wonder who the false Zara can be?” exclaimed the fisherman.

  “I think I can guess,” said the wife of the blacksmith. “I know who that tailor must be. I’ve seen him pass here many times, also his brother the merchant. Now I know they are an unscrupulous family, and I know the brother had a daughter about the same age as Zara. I believe she is the impostor!”

  “The important thing is to expose her as quickly as possible,” said the blacksmith. He turned to Zara. “You must see the husband of your sister. We will come with you and support what you say. Let us go at once!”

  So off they went, and Zara hid her three friends in a small room that was seldom used, and slipped off to try and waylay the Prince. As an excuse she carried a cloak she had recently mended. Fortunately there was such fuss and excitement that no one paid much attention to the humble little sewing girl, and she was able to creep into the Prince’s room and throw herself at his feet.

  “Who are you, what do you want?” he exclaimed.

  Zara took her courage in her hands.

  “I have evidence to prove that your sister-in-law is an impostor!” she said calmly.

  The Prince rose to his feet in astonishment.

  “Please hear me,” Zara implored him. “Bar the door that we may not be interrupted, because I have a long story to tell.”

  Curious, the Prince did so, and commanded her to speak.

  When she had finished he looked at her searchingly.

  “This fisherman, where is he?” he enquired.

  “Waiting to speak with you, so are the blacksmith and his wife.” “I’ll send a guard for them at once!”

  When the trio came in they told everything they knew about Zara, and the Prince felt that there was every possibility that the story was true. It also helped to explain something that had puzzled him so much, the complete difference in disposition between the girl Mizpah had talked of, and the character of the girl who had claimed to be the lost sister.

  “I shall have to try and make her admit the fraud. I have an idea. Wait here!”

  He hurried in search of his wife.

  “I want you to do something and ask no questions,” he told her. “I want you to go in search of your sister, and when you find her, talk about old times. Ask her if she remembers how your uncle had a splendid marriage feast. How you had a wonderful red robe, and she had a beautiful blue one!”

  Mizpah looked bewildered.

  “But such a thing never happened. All our uncles were married before we were born.”

  “All the better, but do as I say. I’ll come with you,” her husband replied.

  Apparently strolling casually they went in search of Zara, and when they found her, Mizpah started to talk about their childhood.

  “Forgive me, sister,” Zara said, a trifle impatiently, “but I have much to do.”

  “Let me help you,” Mizpah offered. “All this reminds me of when our uncle married. Don’t you remember the fuss and excitement then. I was thinking of it this morning, and of the new robes we had. Mine was red, and yours was blue.”

  “Yes, of course,” the false Zara replied quickly.

  “You remember?” Mizpah asked.

  “Why? Of course I do,” was the reply.

  Mizpah swayed and looked at her husband out of terrified eyes.

  “That is very surprising,” the husband said. “For you see no such thing ever happened. I set a trap for you, and you have fallen into it. You are not my wife’s sister. Who are you?”

  At this the impostor protested violently, but it was evident that she was very frightened. The Prince became more and more angry, and in the end the wretched girl threw herself on the ground and admitted the truth. When the Prince heard who her accomplices were he ordered their arrest at once, and by evening the tailor, his brother, and the girl, were locked up.

  The real Zara and her friends waited in great anxiety until Mizpah sent a messenger for them, and then the sisters threw themselves into each other’s arms.

  When the bridegroom arrived next day there was no wedding but instead there was a feast, and the young man was most favourably impressed with the real Zara as she was with him.

  Zara was amazed to find that she too, was now beautiful, in fact she was strikingly like Mizpah.

  “Oh, how was it possible that I was so blind?” Mizpah exclaimed. “My own sister practically under my nose and I didn’t recognise her, while that lying impostor managed to convince me.”

  All of which proves how little people sometimes see of what really goes on around them, and how easy it is to be deceived.

  THE PIPING BIRD

  SMALL BIRDS, LIKE small people, are often very ambitious. Sometimes they get ahead through merit, sometimes through cunning. Once there was
a small bird who was determined that he was going to make an impression by fair means or foul. He had a thin, piping voice, and he desired above all things to be able to pipe up loudly, but no matter how hard he practised he was unable to make his little voice any bigger.

  “If only I could get hold of a pipe of some kind, I could play,” he told himself, and proceeded to hunt all through the forest to find something to make himself a pipe. But he found nothing. Then he worked out a very cunning scheme. Next door to him lived a fine large bird, who was inclined to treat the little bird with a good deal of contempt.

  One day the little bird called on the large bird, and started what appeared to be a casual discussion.

  “I hear that worms are likely to be short this season,” he reported.

  “Indeed,” replied the large bird. “Well I don’t worry, I can fly for miles if necessary, I expect I’ll find enough!”

  “I doubt it,” the small bird replied. “I’m not worrying, of course, because I can go without food.”

  “How do you mean you can go without food?” the large bird asked.

  “I’ve been training myself. Sometimes I don’t eat for days and days on end. I believe I could fast for a week without minding very much.”

  “Ho,” scoffed the large bird. “Well, if you could fast for a week I’m sure I could fast for two weeks.”

  “I don’t believe anyone could do that!” exclaimed the small bird.

  “If you could fast for one week, I could fast for two,” asserted the large bird.

  “Are you willing to bet on that?” the small bird asked.

  “Of course I am. You’ll have to supply me with two dozen large worms when I’ve won,” chortled the large bird.

  “I’ll take you on. I’m quite sure you’ll never last for two weeks without food.”