NEOMI'S TOWER AND THE DIVISION INTO TRIBES

Neomi's descendants determined to build a tower so as to return to Heaven, whence their ancestor came. They built a wooden tower, and when it was very high a man at the top called down for more wood. Those at the bottom did not hear properly, and one man called out: "Shall I cut?" The one above shouted: "Wood, wood!" and the man below again called: "Shall I cut?" The man at the top lost his temper and shouted: "Yes, cut!" The man below did so and the whole tower fell, killing all those on it. The remains of the structure are still to be seen at the place, they say.

Those who were on the ground and survived decided they would scatter and choose land for themselves. The Nriami chose all the cliffs, but Neomi and Nkuoami chose the good land. After they had settled in their villages Nriami found they had nowhere to cultivate, so they asked Neomi and Nkuoami to have pity on them and help them, and so they divided out the land equally.

When they all went off to found their different villages the Kabui blazed a trail by cutting humuk trees, and all the marks turned black and it looked like an old path, so that few people went that way; but the Zemi cut their marks on kameo trees on which the marks stayed white, so that a great many people went that way, and the Zemi became more numerous than the Kabui.

When the Zemi were on their way from their place of origin in the north-west a spirit saw that they were too many, and so turned Henima and Intuma into Lyengmi. Heningzami village also wanted to become Lyengmi, so gave the Lyengmi a man's dance-cloth as a fee for teaching. The Barak is the boundary between the tribes, the Kabui and Lyeng on the far side and the Zemi on the west, and their village go as far up as the Angami country. In the days of the migration the Angami did not fight the Zemi, though they did so later. The Angami are Tsiuperai's children and live round about his house, and so are cleverer and better fighters than the Zemi.

Zeme folktales by Ursula Graham

THE WILD DOG

Once, they say, there was a man who went hunting with his eight dogs, and they got so much meat that the house was full of it. He put it in a basket to dry, and it became a woman, and the man married her. Every day the man and the dogs went hunting, and every day they caught something and had meat to eat, till one day, after many years, they did not catch anything, and on the way home it came on to rain. The dogs ran off home quickly, and the man followed more slowly, because he was getting old. The dogs all came into the house and sat down round the fire, because they were wet and cold. The woman was sweeping out the house, and when she saw they had brought nothing she abused them for sitting round the fire instead of hunting, and hit them with the broom.

The dogs said: "Our grandmother is angry with us for not bringing anything, and beats us with the broom. Let us run away." Then they ran away from the house.

After a little while the man came in and asked where the dogs were, and the woman said: "They took up all the room round the fire when I was sweeping, and I beat them away with the broom, and now they have all run away."

Then the man was very angry, and said: "I am more fond of the dogs than of you, for you only came out of a lump of meat. I will go and call them back."

He hurried after them, calling to them to wait because he wanted to talk to them. The dogs heard, and some of them were for staying and some were not, but at last they waited and spoke to him. The man begged them to come back, but they refused and said: "No, our grandmother is angry with us and beats us with the broom. The broom is the worst thing of all to beat with, for if we are hit with one, we shall never be able to catch anything, however much we hunt."

"But if you go away, then how can I live?" said the man.

"Listen," said the dogs. "If, down by the nullah, you see our droppings and the places where we have curled up and slept, go and search on the hillside, because we shall have killed there, and you will find the bones we have left. If you see our droppings and the places where we have slept on the hill, then search down by the nullah, and you will find what we have left there."

"But if I take the bones you leave," said the man. "And a bit of bone gets stuck in my throat and blocks it, what shall I do then?"

"Now and then," said the dogs. "You will kill one of us or catch him in a trap. Take a bit of his tongue and stroke your throat with it and say what we are saying now: "Of old the dog gave this order. If it goes down, it goes down, if it comes up, it comes up" and whichever way it is going, it will go."

Then the dogs ran off into the jungle and the old man went home, and never again had such meat as he did before.

THE OTTER

A man used to set basket-traps to catch fish, but every night an otter came and ate the fish in the traps. The man was angry, and said: "Who is eating all my fish? I will set a trap." He set a trap and when the otter went to eat the fish in the basket-trap it could not get out again, and when the man came in the morning he found it.

"Ah!" he said. "So you are the one who has been eating my fish! Now I shall take and eat you."

He went off carrying the otter in the basket, and when they came near the village the otter heard a pig grunting.

"What's that?" he asked.

"When I have killed and eaten you," said the man, "And go to the jungle to ease myself, the pig will come and eat the dung."

The otter was frightened, and when they had gone a little further and heard a cock crowing, he asked what that was.

"When the pig has eaten the dung and got rid of its droppings in turn," said the man. "The cock will come and eat them and so eat you up for the third time."

The otter was frightened still more, and said: "Don't eat me! Let me live, and I will give you a useful piece of advice."

"What is it?" said the man.

"When one of your children gets a fish-bone stuck in its throat," said the otter. "Take a piece of skin from an otter's throat and stroke the child's throat with it eight times, and say: 'This order the otter gave of old. If it goes down, it goes down, if it goes up, it goes up,' and the fish-bone will go one way or the other."

Then the man let the otter go, and to this day, when anyone gets a fish-bone stuck in his throat, men do as the otter told them.

THE RAJA'S DAUGHTER

Once there was a Kachari Raja, and he married, and his wife bore him a daughter. When she grew up she was very beautiful and the Raja her father wished to take her for his wife. He called all his people and his servants together, and said: "Listen! Men sow dhan in their own jhums, and then reap it and eat it themselves. You people sow pumpkins in your own jhums and eat them yourselves." All the people said: "Yes, yes, that is true."

Then the Raja went on: "You sow chillies in your own jhums, and when they are ripe you take and eat them. You sow cotton in your own jhums, and when it is ready you take it and make clothes for yourselves with your own cotton." The people all said: "Yes, we take cotton from our own fields and make clothes for ourselves, and not for anyone else."

And the Raja said: "You plant kachu, and when it is ripe you take it from your own fields and eat it." The people agreed, and he went on: "You sow maize, and when it is ripe you take the maize you have sown and eat it yourselves." The people all said: "Yes, that is quite true, we sow in our own fields and eat it ourselves."

The Raja said: "You plant banana trees in your gardens, and when the fruit is ripe and ready, you eat it yourselves." And the people all agreed, and said: "Yes, that is quite true."

Then the Raja said: "Then if all this is so, and everything that a man sows he may take and enjoy himself, I can marry my daughter." And all the people assembled said: "Yes, you may."

The Raja sent word to his daughter that he would marry her, but she said: "What kind of man is this, to marry his own daughter? I will run away as far as I can, and not stay near him."

Then the girl, whose name was Disarule, ran away, and she travelled far into the hills till she came near Impuiloa, and there she began to feel very thirsty. She stopped at a great rubber-tree which stood there, and she looked up and said: "If the sky be my father, then let water come from this tree." Then she struck the tree with her stick and water gushed out, and she held her cup to it and drank and was refreshed, and went on and on, far, far away.

When he found that she had gone her father called all his servants and sent them all after her to catch her. They went carrying hens as presents to her, but she had gone far ahead and they could not catch her. They went as far as Daoban village, and so it has that name, 'fowl-carrying', to this day.

Beyond Daoban Disarule thrust her bamboo staff into the ground head-down, and the clump which grew from it there to this day, they say. Then she went on and away, far, far away, and she must have married some Raja.

The big rubber-tree is dead now, but my father and Zuhingba's father and all the old men have seen it.

ARKHANGSUONG - Zeme Folktales

Once upon a time there was a rich couple who had only one child, a boy named Akhangsuong. Every time they went to the fields the child ran after them and cried and wanted to be taken too. Every time this happened they called the young men to catch him and take him back and keep him until after they had gone, but one day after the young men had let him go he ran off a second time and met with some strangers who carried him off and sold him as a slave in a distant village. When his parents came home in the evening and asked the young men where the boy was, they answered that they had taken him back and then let him go, as before; but though his parents searched and searched, there was no trace to be found of him, for the strangers had taken him and sold him to a couple who lived twelve villages away.

This couple had a daughter of their own and another slave-boy, younger than Akhangsuong, named Chellet. When Akhangsuong grew up, he and the girl fell in love and slept together, and one morning they rose so late that there was no wood cut or water carried when the old couple appeared. Akhangsuong was ashamed and said so to the girl, but she answered: "We are in love - what is there to be ashamed about?" and when her parents asked why nothing had been done, she answered that she had overslept.

Akhangsuong was now a young man, and no one could surpass him at any sport. One day the dekachang arranged to go on a dancing tour to another village, but the old couple forbade the two young men to eat in strangers' houses when they went on this trip, and killed a pig and gave them plenty of provisions for the journey. The two went off together with it all, and since Chellet was by courtesy Akhangsuong's younger brother, he carried the load.

The first night in the strange village was spent in singing and feasting, and the next morning the young men went and jumped at the hazoa. Akhangsuong leaped further than any of them, and shouted out his name in triumph. The villagers asked Akhangsuong's companions who he was and who his parents were, but they answered that he was a slave. Chellet overheard this and told Akhangsuong, who was hurt and ashamed and refused to take any more part in the sports, and later on he and Chellet would not go into one of their hosts' houses to eat, but sat down to take their meal at the place in the street where the young men had been putting the stone. Seeing this, one of the village women - who was Akhangsuong's father's sister, although he did not know it - called to them not to eat in the dirt and smells of the street, but to come and have their meal in her house. At first they were unwilling, but after talking it over, they decided that it was not right to eat in public in the street and went into the house. The woman had known Akhangsuong as a child and had heard him shout his name when he jumped, and on looking at him closely she saw a scar on his forehead where he had had a cut from a stone as a boy. She brought out zu and insisted that they must have some as part of her village's hospitality, but Chellet, after drinking a little, hurried away. Akhangsuong would have done the same, but she caught him by the cloth and asked if he were not Akhangsuong. When he said that he was, she took him out and showed him his father's house in the distance and told him that his father was so rich that the house was full of his mithans' dung. "In ten days' time you must come back here," she said. "You must run away from your owner and come here, and I will send you back to your parents."

When Akhangsuong reached his owner's house again he was silent and thoughtful and never said a word when he came to the house for meals, and the old couple asked Chellet what was the matter. He told them that when Akhangsuong had been leaping at the hazoa in the other village and the villagers asked who he was, his companions had said he was a slave, and that he was unhappy about that. The old couple were so angry when they heard this that they went to the dekachang crying: "Who has done this to our son?" and broke up all the sleeping benches and machans with axes.

When a week or so had gone by Akhangsuong began to make ready to go, and taking off all the necklaces and armlets his owners had given him, he slipped out of the house, but did not go far. When the girl saw what had happened she began to weep and lament and ask why he wanted to leave, and hearing this, he came back and told her that he was only joking. She did not believe him, and wherever he went she wanted to go to, whether to fetch wood or to bathe. At last it was time for him to go, and hardening his heart, he ran away to his aunt's house, and she sent him on to his father's village. When he reached it night had fallen and the young men and girls were dancing in the dekachang of which his father was head. He knocked at the back door and his mother called out: "Who's there?" "Your son," he said, and she let him in. Then she went and called his father, who was in the dekachang praising and encouraging the dancers, and told him who had come. Hearing this, he told the dancers: "Don't dance any more - your mother has a stomach-ache." The dancers wondered what had happened to stop the dancing all of a sudden, and were sure that some stranger had come, and the girls went and peeped in through the cracks of the house-wall and they all thought they had never seen anyone so handsome as Akhangsuong.

When the old couple found that Akhangsuong was missing they sent Chellet out to search for him, and off he went with a load of food and went wandering through village after village looking for him. At last he came to where he was, and Akhangsuong saw him and said: "Ah, my younger brother has come!" Chellet said: "Oh, my elder brother, what trouble you've given me! I have searched village after village for you!"

After he had been well entertained in Akhangsuong's house he went back and told the old couple where he had found him, and since Akhangsuong's parents would not let him go back to the old couple's village, and they would not let their daughter go to Akhangsuong's village, the two married and settled in a village midway between the two and there lived happily for many years, and were very rich.

 

HANGNEGUN - Zeme Folktale

There was once a small boy and every day when his parents went to the fields he used to run weeping after them and clamour to be taken too. They took him home, but he ran after them again, and they struck him and scolded him and took him back to the house once more, but still he ran after them. Day after day this happened, till one day he started after them later than usual. His father and mother had gone well ahead and did not hear him, and as he ran along the path calling for them he met a party of strangers from another village, and they seized him and carried him off. When his father and mother came home in the evening they searched for him but could not find him, for the strangers had taken him a long way away.

The strangers sold him to a couple who already had a son of their own, a boy a little younger than Hangnegun, and the two grew up together, Hangnegun believing that his owners were his real parents and their son Hraiteomakpa his brother. The man Bungsing and his wife ill-treated him and gave him only scraps to eat, but Hraiteomakpa was fond of him, and when his parents gave Hangnegun bad and scanty food, Hraiteomakpa protested and shared his own good helpings with him. When the two grew up to manhood, Bungsing bought handsome clothes and necklaces and brass armlets for his own son, but Hraiteomakpa took them and gave them to Hangnegun. When Hangnegun came to the house for the midday meal and the man and his wife saw him wearing their son's fine clothes they were furiously angry and made him take them all off, and they put them aside for Hraiteomakpa. When Hraiteomakpa came in he saw the ornaments lying there and asked what had happened, and when they told him he was so angry that he cried out that if his elder brother could not have them, then he would not, and snatching up all the fine things he dropped them into the pounding-block, and although his parents tried to stop him, he hammered all the ornaments to pieces with the dhan-pounder.

One morning the village bucks were to chase and catch a mithan. Hangnegun was with his sweethearts in the dekachang, and knowing this, Bungsing and his wife armed themselves with a stout stick each and went early in the morning and stood one on either side of the door.

"Hangnegun!" they said. "What are you doing? Are you still asleep? Your brother Hraiteomakpa has already caught hold of the mithan's tail!"

Hangnegun heard this, but he also heard them whispering to each other to hit him hard as he came out, and he dashed out so quickly that they missed him altogether and only hit each other. Hangnegun went to the morung and spoke to the malik's wife, who was his kinswoman although he did not know it, and asked her whether it was true that Hraiteomakpa had caught hold of the mithan's tail many times already.

"How can it be true?" she said. "He is still asleep. Your parents have told you lies."

When the young men went to catch the mithan, Hraiteomakpa was the first to seize the tail, and when his parents heard him shouting his father's and grandfather's name they were delighted, but he lost his hold, and Hangnegun caught the tail. Bungsing and his wife were angry and hurried down with sticks in their hands, intending to hit him and make him let go; but when they hit at him he dodged them so neatly that they never struck him and he never lost his grip on the tail, and he ran off so quickly behind the mithan that they could not catch him.

When Hangnegun caught the mithan he called out the names of Bungsing and Bungsing's father, but afterwards the malik's wife called him and told him that Bungsing had only bought him from his kidnappers, and she taught him the names of his real father and grandfather and told him to shout them if he caught a mithan again.

The next time the bucks went to catch a mithan Hraiteomakpa was again the first to catch the tail, and when Bungsing and his wife heard him shouting they were delighted; but he let go, and Hangnegun caught it. Bungsing and his wife tried to hit him as before, but he dodged them and ran on shouting the names of his real father and grandfather. When Hraiteomakpa heard what Hangnegun was shouting he was disturbed and wondered what had happened that his brother should shout other names.

Another day the villagers agreed to hold a fish-poisoning and they asked who had seen the creeper in the jungle. Hraiteomakpa said he had seen some, and that there would be enough for twenty loads; Hangnegun also said he had seen some, but that there was only enough for ten loads. Twenty men went with Hraiteomakpa and ten with Hangnegun, but when the twenty reached the spot they found none at all and when Hangnegun's ten reached their place they found far more than they could carry. The twenty shouted across to Hangnegun's party to know how much they had got, and Hangnegun called to them to send twenty more men. When they arrived Hangnegun had all the loads cut and ready, and they all came back to the village carrying them.

Next day everybody from the village went to the river to catch fish. The bucks and girls went first, carrying the creeper, and while they were waiting for the others the girls passed the time by looking for lice in the bucks' heads; but while ten girls were hunting in Hraiteomakpa's, no less than twenty chose to look in Hangnegun's. When the rest of the villagers came along and Bungsing and his wife saw how many more girls had chosen Hangnegun, they were very angry.

After the creeper had been beaten and the fish had began to come to the surface, Hangnegun, who was a strong swimmer, dived in to pick up fish from the bottom of the pool, and Bungsing and his wife caught up a big stone and threw it in in the hope of killing him, because he always outshone their son; but he came out on the other side of the pool with a fine catch of fish, and dived in again, and again they missed him, and again he came out with a big catch. When he scrambled out he went to Bungsing's wife and asked her what she had caught, but she only had two or three tiny fish lying in the mouth of the basket. Then he gave her from his own catch of big fish.

They all went back to the village in the evening and the young men arranged to have a feast in the morung the next day, each bringing food from his own house. When the time came everybody had brought rice and fish and zu except Hangnegun, who sat there without eating or drinking anything. The others told him to go and fetch his share from his house, but he refused. The malik's wife knew how he was ill-treated and called him and offered him food and drink from her house, but he would not take it. All his friends went on telling him to fetch some and at last he went to Bungsing's house. Bungsing's wife had left only the stale, hard rice at the bottom of the pot and the bones and scraps of the fish, and he took them. When he got back to the morung he opened the packet and showed his friends what he had brought, and said: "Look. You wanted to see, and I was ashamed to show you." Then he flung himself down on the bench and covered himself with his cloth and lay as if he was asleep, and was too ashamed to get up, although his friends pleaded with him and begged him to eat with them.

Later on, when the feast was over and he was sitting in the morung, the malik's wife called him and said: "Your real father and mother live far away in another village, and they are now very rich and have much dhan and your father is malik of a morung. If you want to go to them, go, for you have nothing but trouble here."

Then Hangnegun began to want to go, but in spite of the ill- treatment he had received he was sorry to leave his younger brother and his friends. Hraiteomakpa saw that he was always silent and thinking about something, and wondered still more what had happened, and when he remembered that Hangnegun had shouted other names when he caught the mithan, he was frightened and watched Hangnegun all the time.

For a long time Hangnegun could find no chance to escape because Hraiteomakpa was always with him, but one day he slipped away. Hraiteomakpa missed him and hurried after him and caught him up, and said: "Don't go away! Come back with me. We will go back together." Hangnegun said: "I'm only going for a walk. I shan't go away." Hraiteomakpa would not believe him and worried him to come back to the village. At last Hangnegun said: "I tell you I won't go away. Now go back and fetch me your father's drinking- cup and some thirst-raiser and I'll wait here and drink it when you come back." Hraiteomakpa would not go until Hangnegun promised he would not run away, but the moment the boy had gone Hangnegun slipped into the jungle and hid himself. When Hraiteomakpa came back and found no one he was so consumed with grief and anger that he flung down the cup and broke it in pieces, and threw down the appetizer in the road. Then he wept and wept, and Hangnegun watched him from the jungle, but because of the cruelty of Bungsing and his wife he would not go back, and at last Hraiteomakpa, still weeping, went back to the village. Hangnegun came out of the jungle and went on, but a little further on he met two girls, both of whom loved him; they too had guessed that he was going and were standing with their hands joined across the path.

"If you go beyond this," they said. "You are no true man. You must not go any further."

He begged them not to stop him, but they would not let him go, and at last he caught hold of their wrists and tore their hands apart and ran on. They followed him, calling him and beseeching him to come back, but he ran on till he came to a log bridge across a stream. He ran across it, and before they could come up he seized the log and threw it down into the water. When they saw they could go no further the girls fell into a passion of grief and wept and tore off their cloths and beat the ground with them, but Hangnegun hurried on towards his father's village.

It was dark when he reached it and the bucks and girls were dancing in the morung. He slipped round to the back door of his father's house, and knocked, and his mother opened it and recognised him. She went and called her husband, who was watching the dancing, and he came and saw his son and recognised him. Then he went back to the morung and called out to the dancers: "Your mother has a bad colic. Don't dance any more." Then they all stopped and were quiet, but one of the girls heard voices inside the house and peered in through a crack and saw the most handsome young man she had ever seen in her life, as bright and shining as a lamp; and all the other girls came and looked too and they had never seen anyone so handsome as Hangnegun.

The next day his father made a feast to celebrate, and killed a big boar; and the old man was full of drink and beside himself with joy, and came out of the house and screeched and leapt like a young man, and shouted: "You told me my family was extinct. But although you said so, my race is not extinct, and my family is restored again!"

The Orphans - Zeme Folktale

Once upon a time there was a boy called Amang, and his parents died when he & his sister were very young. Some people gave them a little, most people did not. When all the villagers went with daos to clear the new jhums, Amang went too, but he had no dao and had to pull down the bamboos and jungle with his hands, and in so doing blocked the path. Some of the villagers came along and found it blocked and were angry, and pushed it back again, but a few others were kindly disposes and cut a little here and there till his jhum was cleared. He asked a man for some rice to plant in his field, but the man gave him cooked rice, which was useless. In this way he had much trouble.

One day his sister was preparing thread & the boy sat by. A tamaopui (dove?) came and sat in a tree near the house and sat there cooing. The boy saw it, and said: "I want that. Give me some of your thread."

So she gave him some thread and he made a bow (tabaimpi) and shot the bird. He took it home & cut it up for food and in its crop he found rice/dhan. He plucked out the wing feathers and put them under the bed, and when he got up in the morning and looked, they had all turned into spears and daos and kodalis.

The he told his sister: "Don't tell anybody. Just fetch plenty of water. He sat down inside the house with water & a stone and began sharpening all the tools and weapons. There were so many that his sister was doing nothing but fetch water, & people asked her why.

"My brother has bad diarrhoea, and can't get up from his bed; so I am carrying water to make things clean."

Then people called out that the house smelt, but the girl went on carrying water.

Then Amang took his new tools and went and prepared a jhum and planted the dhan he got from the pigeon's crop; but no dhan came up, only big gourds (nraolu).

"What shall I do?" he said. "I planted dhan and got nothing but gourds. I will clear the weeds and see if the gourds are good for carrying water." So he cleared the plants & leaves with his dao, and accidentally cut open a big gourds, and inside it was dhan.

The he went and built a big granary, and people laughed at him and asked why he built a granary (nsaou) when his crop was only gourds.

"Oh," said Amang. "I shall put the gourds in it."

Then he carried the gourds back to his granary and cut them open, and so much dhan came out that he filled the whole granary.

Now it happened that the villagers' crops were all very bad, so that everyone came to him and asked for help, as they were starving. To those who had given to him he gave freely, but to those who had refused he gave only a very, very little.

One night his father came in his dreams and called him, and said: "Look up in the cane tray over the fire and you will find some of the rope we tied our mithan with; take it up to the pool above the village, cut it into little bits and throw it into the water, and come back after five days."

Next morning Amang looked in the cane tray and found a little of the rope. He went to the pool and chopped it into little bits and threw them into the water and went away. When he came back he found a lot of tiny mithan as big as beetles. Next day they were as big as rats; next day as goats; and then full grown mithan with huge horns, so he built a stone fence to stop them escaping and went back to the village. There he went to the tingkupeo (priest) and said: "To-morrow I shall drive all my mithan into the village, and they are very large and very many, so warn everybody to stay indoors, or somebody may get trampled on."

The tingkupeo went round the village calling out and warning everybody, but one old woman said: "What? What sort of mithan will he bring?" Next day everybody stayed indoors but the old woman and when Amang drove all his mithan in, one of them kicked her hard on the leg.

Amang had now become very rich, so he married and built a big house and made a feast for everybody, all the men and birds and animals. Everybody got themselves up in their best to come, and the Bhim-raj said to the rat: "Friend, arrange my tail, and I'll arrange yours." So the rat chewed and chewed at the feathers till there was nothing left but the rib and a little tuft on the end. Just then the call to go to the feast, and the Bhim-raj flew away without doing the rat's tail. "Oh, my friend has gone away!" said the rat, and cried with disappointment. Then he took some earth and plastered it on his tail himself and went to the feast, and to this day when a rat sees a Bhim-raj he tries to bite its tail.

The sambhar and the langur also agreed to arrange each other's tails; the sambhar prepared the langur's beautifully, but just then the people began calling out: "The feast is ready! Come, come! Is there anyone else to come?" and off ran the langur. The sambhar was left calling out: "Oh, who will do my tail? Who will do my tail?" but nobody came, and he had to do it himself and so it is short and stubby to this day.

The owl said to the hornbill: "My eyes are so big and my face is so ugly I am ashamed to show myself. Let me hide under your wing." So the hornbill hid him. When they got to the feast, Amang said: "Who will be King of the Birds?" and all the birds said: "The hornbill." "Very well," said Amang. "Show us what you can do. Get up and say your say." The hornbill got up and squawked and everyone applauded and said he should be king; and then the hornbill flapped his wings, and out fell the owl. Everyone was so shocked at the ugly thing he kept under his wing that they cried out he should not be king. So they chose the Bhim-raj, and Amang told him to get up and show what he could do. The Bhim-raj flew round and round trailing his long tail and chattering like a Bengali and saying "Coolie! Coolie!" and they all applauded and chose him for King of the Birds.

The civet cat said to the jungle rat: "My smell is very bad, and I'm ashamed to go. Let me hide behind you." So he hid behind his friend. When one of the people who were handing the food and drink came to where they were, he called out: "Oh, what an awful smell!" The jungle rat said nothing, but the second time the man came round he exclaimed again, and the rat was ashamed and said: "It isn't me, it's my friend." Then the civet cat was overcome with shame and said: "I shall go away and hide by the road. You come along later, calling out, with a parcel of food for each of us." And he went away.

In the path leading away from the village was a huge heap of dung and filthy refuse, and all the guests had to jump it as they went away. The Nagas jumped clean over it and never got dirty at all, and if they had not become dirty since through eating dogs and pigs and so on, they would be the cleanest race of all. The Manipuri and the Kachari each touched it with their hands, and so are particular about washing when they eat. As for the Thadou Kuki, he landed right in the middle.

Then Amang disguised himself and went and sat by the road and asked all the guests as they went whether they had had enough to eat. The Kachari said: "Oh, I've had a lot, but I could still eat a little more."

"Very well," said Amang. "Even though you get a lot to eat, your belly will never be quite filled."

Exactly the same thing happened when the Thadou Kuki came along, and Amang said the same as he had to the Kachari. Then the Nagas came along with their spears and daos, ho-hoing and yelling as they went, and Amang asked them if they had had enough to eat.

"Oh, yes," they said. "We've had any amount. You go along too. There's plenty left."

"Very well," said Amang. "In future, even though you only get a little to eat, it will last you for a long while."

After the Nagas the mithan came along, and Amang asked the same question. The mithan said: "I've had as much as I can eat, and I'm quite full". So Amang said: "All right, you go into the jungle. Half the day you can eat, and the rest of the time you can lie down in a shady spot and chew the cud."

So Amang's mithan all went into the jungle, and all the wild mithan are descended from them.

After the mithan came the buffalo, and when Amang asked him, he said: "Oh, there wasn't too much, and there wasn't too little." "Very well," said Amang. "Even though you eat for days, you shall still be the same - neither too much nor too little."

After a while the jungle rat came along with two parcels of food, and kept calling out as his friend the civet cat told him to. The civet cat heard him, and leaping out of the jungle, he bit off the rat's head in revenge for what had happened at the feast, and ran off with it into the jungle. Then all the birds came along, and found the rat's headless body in the road.

"Oh, oh!" they cried. "Here's someone been killed! Let us pick up the body and carry it." Then they all picked up the body and carried it, but the little hekupui was so short he had to balance his share on his head, which was stained by the blood. The bul-bul thought this so handsome he rubbed himself with it too, but he put it on the other end of him. The ngerui-na dabbled his wings and tail in it and made them red, and the crow rolled himself in the dark blood and mess in the road, and in doing so burst the jungle-rat's gall-bladder and so is black to this day.

'Note to Amang'

When all the animals were assembled at the feast, the tiger was not afraid of any of them, but when the men came along, shouting and hallooing, with their daos and spears all polished and flashing in the sunlight, the tiger blinked and shrank back a little, and so the men took the place of honour above the tiger, and so to this day the tiger is afraid of nobody but man

`Folktale collected by Ursula Graham

THE BOY WHO BECAME A HORNBILL- Zeme Folktale

Once there was a boy whose parents had died, and he lived in the house of some relatives, but the man and his wife constantly ill-treated him. When he went with the other young people to work in the fields the woman used to give him food to take with him; but she mixed rats' dung with the rice and gave him a porcupine's quill to take so that he could pick out what grains he could from the mess.

Every day the young men and girls used to gather in the field- house and eat together, but the boy was ashamed to let them see what his food was like, and always ate by himself, at a distance. One day he went to wash his hands and mouth before eating, and two of the girls, both of whom were fond of him, said to each other; "Why does he never eat with us? Let us go and look and see what food he has." They went very quietly and unpacked his parcel of food, and found the rice all filthy and mixed with rats' dung.

"Oh!" they said. "So that is why he would not eat with us! Let us throw it away." They threw it away, and each contributed a little from her own food and made it up into a parcel as before. They looked in his zu-gourd, but there was only water, so they threw that away, and each contributed zao kasang from her own gourd.

When the boy came back and opened his food he found good rice instead of what had been there before, and he said to the others: "Who does this belong to? It isn't mine. Mine is not like this." They all said: "It must be yours. Look, every one of us has his own." Still he insisted that it was not his, and they that it must be, but he refused to eat or drink any of it.

For several days this happened, the girls waiting till he had gone to wash and then supplying good rice and zu from their own store, but every time he declared it was not his and would not touch it, for he guessed what had happened and was ashamed.

One day he said to the girl he liked the best: "Which do you love most, me or your clothes?" She answered: "I love you the best."

"Then will you give me your skirt?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, and gave it him. "And will you give me your breast-cloth?" "Yes," said the girl, and she took off her black breast-cloth and gave it him, and he put the two cloths on.

"How do I look?" he said.

"Oh, very fine," said the girl.

"Will you give me the neck of your zu-gourd?" he said.

"Yes," she said, and broke it off and gave it to him. He put it to his mouth like a beak, and said: "Now I'll get up on the field house and see how I look from there." When he had scrambled up on the roof he called to her: "How do I look now?"

"Oh, very fine indeed," she said.

"Very well," said the boy. "If it looks all right from here, then I'll go up higher into a tree." He climbed up into a tree and sat there and became a hornbill, and cried out harshly, as hornbills do. When the girl saw what had happened she began to weep and cried out: "You look very handsome, but come down and let us go to the village. Come down, and let us go!" But he was a hornbill, and was ready to fly away.

"After a long while I will return," he said to her. "When you hear the sound of hornbills' wings overhead, come out of your house and sit outside; I shall be the last bird in the flight, and I will let fall the very best of my tail-feathers for you."

So he flew away, and the girl went weeping back to the village.

A long time later, after the girl had married, she heard the sound of hornbills' wings overhead, and she left the house and sat outside. As she looked up at the last hornbill in the flight, the bird let fall the finest of its tail-feathers, and it floated down and landed between the girl's breasts.

The boy's adoptive mother was also watching, and when she saw this she called out: "Oh, give me something too!" but all that came down were the bird's droppings, and they landed right in her eyes and blinded her. The girl kept the feather and treasured it, and she and her husband had great good fortune and had splendid crops and became rich.

 

~Ursula Graham's Collection

KATSINGPEO'S WIFE - Zeme Folktale

There was once a slave-girl named Reile in Hangrum, and one feast-day one of the dekachangs made a song on her name, as if she were a mithan for sacrifice. Having made the song, they killed her or she died, I do not know which, and they buried her.

In the morning the earth over the grave was all burst open, because Katsingpeo had come and taken her away, but Hangrum did not know that. Her great friend went with a party to the bazaar by the old road going over Mahadeo hill. When she came near the hill she suddenly had a very bad colic, and said to the others that she could not go on, she must lie down and rest. When she was asleep Reile appeared and talked with her. Reile was wearing a necklace of serow horns. When she had talked with her friend she went away, and it is so long ago nobody knows what they said. By this it was known that Katsingpeo had taken her for his wife. After that anyone from Hangrum who went near the hill was taken ill and died, and so they were afraid and pretended they came from other villages when they went that way. There is a pool near the hill, and formerly those who were unfortunate saw Reile there, bathing and washing clothes soiled by menstruation, so that the water was all red. Her hair was very long, they say, and tied on her neck like a Naga woman's, and anyone unlucky enough to see her was sure to be taken ill before he got home. Those who were lucky did not see her.

~Ursula Graham's Collection

THE HORNBILL'S FEATHER.

A Zemi Folktale collected by Ursula Graham

A number of women once went down to the river to fish, and one of them who was a little ahead of the others found a spot where a hornbill had been killed by some bird of prey, and its feathers were scattered all over the ground. There was one very fine tail- feather, and she quickly damped it and made it dirty so that it looked the shabbiest of the lot. When the others came up she cried to them: "Come, all of you, and take the feathers home for your children. When you have had your pick I will take what is left over."

The others all chose the feathers they wanted, but the tail- feather looked so dirty that nobody took it and the woman carried it home carefully and gave it to her brother's son, whose name was Ngoi, and he cleaned and smoothed it and made it as good as new. It was a magnificent feather, and as wide as the length of two fingers. When he had cleaned the feather he put it on, and all the girls thought they had never seen anything more handsome.

Now there was a young wife in another village; she and Ngoi had been lovers when she lived with her parents in his village, but she had married someone else. Just at this time her parents performed the feast of merit called Hekwi-ki, and they sent to call her and her husband to the celebrations.

When the day came the girl's husband said to her: "Get out new clothes from the jappa. Everybody else is putting on their best clothes, and we shall feel ashamed if we look shabby."

"Why should we put on new clothes?" said the girl. "When I lived there, there was not a single boy I liked: who then should I please by putting on new clothes?" Her husband said nothing more, and they went in their old clothes.

On the way she said: "Don't accept zu from anyone else; it is my father's house, and I will bring you everything you want," and her husband agreed.

When they reached the house Ngoi was standing by the door, splendidly dressed and wearing his hornbill's feather, and as soon as she saw him the girl went straight in to her parents, put down the zu she had brought to help them out with the feast, and asked them for new clothes. They took out good new clothes and gave them to her, and she put them on and went out to serve zu to the guests. Both her husband and Ngoi were sitting there, but she was always pouring zu for Ngoi and never gave any to her husband at all. The husband sat and watched this for some time, and he began to be sore at heart. He whispered to a friend from the same village who was sitting next to him: "I have dropped my tobacco. Take a bamboo torch and creep about looking for it, and when you come near Ngoi, set fire to the feather in his hair."

The friend did as he asked, and when he passed behind Ngoi he brushed the father with the torch and set light to it.

"Oh!" cried Ngoi, in rage and distress. "I loved that more than any other thing!" So saying, he took the ruined feather and stripped off the ash and swallowed it.

While his friend was searching for the tobacco the girl's husband had sat still, but when the feather was burnt he flung down his cup of zu and hurried away, singing as he went: "I shall not drag my wife away, I shall not fight because of her; let her do as she pleases, and be the wife of whichever one of us she likes. I am going to my own village."

His brother-in-law came out of the village after him, and sang in reply: "Be not angry, be not displeased, speak not angry words; all the necklaces, all the mithan you gave, you will have again."

NOTE.

The song from this story must be sung (and then only) at the building of a big house for the feasts of merit called Hekwi-ki and Krreo-dung. It may not be sung at other times.

On these occasions two men who know the song will come from a distance towards the house, singing as they come, until they reach the porch. They must sing the first two or three words alone and then the others, who may be forty or fifty strong, may join in. With the next line the two soloists must lead again, and so on. When the song is finished they go off again and return singing something else, and they go on doing this as long as they like.

Before this particular song can be sung two others must be sung, and unless there is someone who knows how to sing them the ceremony cannot be performed. If there is no one suitable in the village, someone must be fetched from another village.

THE BIRTH OF THE SPIRITS - Zemi folktale

First of all Bangklawong fell from heaven. There was no earth, only water, and on top of it was a wild taro leaf, onto which he fell. He said to himself: "If I am to be king, then my feet will not touch the water," but as he came down one foot touched the leaf and the other the water and he knew he would not be king for long.

He asked everything and everybody whether they could make land, but none of them could. At last he asked the King Worm, and the King Worm said he could.

"If I do, will you give me what I ask?" he said.

"What do you want?" asked Bangklawong.

"Every day a thousand shall die, and I shall eat their bodies," said the King Worm.

"If that happens, there will be no one left," said Bangklawong.

"Every day a thousand more will be born to take their places," answered the King Worm.

"Very well," said Bangklawong. "Then I will give you what you ask."

The King Worm went down to the bottom of the water and made worm casts until he had made all the earth, and the crow patted it flat and smooth, but by the time he came to do the hills he was too tired to flatten them properly, and that is why the plains are smooth and the hills are steep and full of cliffs. Then Tingwong told Bangklawong in a dream:

"If you do not want to live alone, then cut off two of your fingers, and one will become your wife and the other your sister."

So Bangklawong cut two of his fingers, and one became his wife and the other his sister. The sister was a very hard worker, and so quick and skilled that when she went to fetch wood or water she was back so soon that Bangklawong never had any privacy in which to enjoy his wife. At last he took a basketful of katsing seeds and spilled them in the grass, and told his sister that if she did not pick them all up even to the last one, he would take his dao and kill her, and he stuck his dao in the ground beside her and went back to his house.

The sister picked up the seeds so quickly that she returned, saying: "I have brought them all," when Bangklawong was having connection with his wife, and the sight so affected her that she cried out that she was going to lay an egg. Bangklawong told her to go to Tallaurok, at the source of the Barak, taking with her a dao, a plantain-tree and a huluk [a gibbon], and lay her eggs there. She went to Tallaurok, and there, by a cliff where there was a waterfall, she laid eight eggs, and then planted the plantain- trees, put the dao by it, and went away, leaving the huluk in the tree to keep watch.

Out of the first egg to hatch came Katsingpeo, and although his eyes were not yet open it seemed so bright outside that he was frightened and ducked down again inside his shell. The next to hatch was Tsiuperai, and he was not frightened, but stood up straight up and cried: "I am the first and the greatest!"

Hearing this, Katsingpeo came out again and said: "No, I hatched first, but I was frightened and hid again. I am the first and the greatest."

"No!" said Tsiuperai. "You were frightened and hid, whereas I stood straight up. I am the greatest."

Presently the other eggs hatched out, all except one. Tsiuperai said: "Our mother must have left us something." He felt about until he found the plantain-tree and its fruit. "Then there must be something else," he said, and felt about until he found the dao, and with that he cut down the tree and took the fruit. He gave the plantains out, one to each, but the huluk (gibbon) put its hand out each time and took the fruit.

"Now have you each had one?" he asked, but they one and all said they had not.

"I gave one to each," said Tsiuperai. "I will give them out again, and I will catch hold of each hand as I find it, and whoever it belongs to must say who he is." He began to give out the fruit again, and the first hand he found he caught and held, and called out: "Whose is this?" It was the huluk's hand, and all the spirits answered: "Not mine."

"Very well," said Tsiuperai. "Since it is none of ours, I'll cut it." He slashed at it with the dao, and the blood spurted up into his face and all at once his eyes opened and he could see. Then he took the blood and smeared it on the eyes of Katsingpeo and of all the others, and their eyes too opened.

They waited there a long time for the last egg to hatch, but it did not. "It must be addled," they said. "If it were good it would have hatched out long ago," and they rolled it down the bank into the river and went away to find their mother.

As they went along Tsiuperai and Katsingpeo did nothing but argue and quarrel as to which of them was the greater, and at last they agreed to throw pebbles across the Barak, and he whose stone reached the other side would be the greatest. Katsingpeo and all the others threw their stones, and they fell into the water before reaching the far side, but Tsiuperai picked up a beetle by mistake and threw that, and it zoomed off right across the river.

"There!" he said. "My stone has reached the far side, and I am the first and the greatest."

They went on their way, but Katsingpeo continued to argue, and presently, when they reached a smooth, grassy place, they agreed to throw stems of 'hpi' grass along the ground, and he whose shot went farthest should be the greatest. All the others threw without their stems going very far, but Tsiuperai, in hunting about for one to throw, took hold of a snake and threw that, and it shot off away beyond the others.

"There!" said Tsiuperai. "My stick has gone the farthest, and I am the first and the greatest."

Next they came to their mother's house, and changing themselves into crows, they perched in a nearby tree. Their mother came out and saw them, but when she counted them there were only seven.

"These cannot be my children," she thought. "For I laid eight eggs." And she went in again.

The seven spirits looked at her, and Tsiuperai said: "That must be our mother. Let us call out 'Mother' to her and see what happens."

"No, no!" cried all the others. "If we call out 'Mother' to her and she is not our mother, we shall feel ashamed."

While they perched there arguing about this, their mother came out several times and looked at them, and at last Tsiuperai said:

"Whatever you others do or don't do, I am going to call out 'Mother'." Then he called out to her: "Mother, we are your children."

"You cannot be my children," she answered. "For there are only seven of you, and I laid eight eggs."

"There were eight eggs," they said. "But the last one never hatched, so we thought it must be addled and pushed it down the bank into the river."

"Alas, my youngest child!" she cried. "Fools that you are, he would have been wiser and stronger and greater than any of you."

Then she asked them which was the eldest.

"I am," said Katsingpeo. "I hatched the first, and I am the foremost and the greatest."

"No, I am!" said Tsiuperai, and the two of them began quarrelling.

"I will show you which is the first and greatest," said their mother. "All of you stand here, and I will press out the milk from my breasts, and he to whom it goes first is the first and foremost."

They did as she told them, and she pressed out the milk from her breasts. First it went towards Katsingpeo, but turning from him, went straight to Tsiuperai's mouth, and after him back to Katsingpeo, and after him to all the others in order.

As for the egg which went into the Barak, it hatched, and out of it came the python.

The origin of Tiger, Spirit and Humankind: A Mao Naga Myth

According to this Mao-Naga myth, Tiger, Spirit and Humankind(man) were three brothers who came into existence through the miraculous union between the already existing first woman and the clouds of the sky. How the first human being, that is, the woman came into existence is not explained but her existence is taken for granted. This is perhaps because the earth is already there and its origin cannot be fully explained. The woman represents the reproductive power of nature. The first woman’s name was called Dziiliimosiiro which approximately means the ‘purest water’ or ‘crystal clear water’. One day, she was resting under a tree with her legs wide apart, at a place called Makhriifii or Makhel which is supposed to the last halting place on the migration route of the Tengimie (Angami, Chakhesung, Mao and Poumei) and their closely allied Naga tribes.

This place is in the present Mao Naga country. Suddenly a cluster of clouds came over her and some drops of liquid came down over her private part and she became pregnant. Subsequently she gave birth to a Tiger, Spirit and Man or human being.

By the time the three children became adults, their mother was quite old and sick. So the three brothers took turns to look after their ailing mother. When the Tiger looked after her, the mother used to become sicker with anxiety and her worry seemed to be intensified. The reason for this was that the Tiger used to touch the mother’s body to identify the fleshy, good muscles which he could eat after her death.

During the turn of the Spirit, the mother used to become more feverish and develop acute headaches. The mother felt at ease and relaxed only when the Man looked after her because he tended his mother with great care and concern. Before their mother’s death, there was a dispute among the three brothers as to who should inherit her land. When the quarrels became more frequent and threatened to result in

violence, the mother decided that something had to be done in order to settle the dispute. So she devised a contest among them. For this purpose, she created a ball-like grass at a distance and said that the three brothers were to race for it. And the one who touched the ball-like grass first would inherit the mothers’ land. The Man being the youngest and a good fellow, his mother instructed him to make a bow and arrow to shoot at the grass target as she knew that he could not compete with the powers of the Tiger and Spirit in such a race. The Man following his mother’s instruction succeeded in touching the grass target first by firing the arrow and finally inherited his mother’s land. The Tiger in disgust went to the

thick jungles and the Spirit disappeared in the far south (Kashiipii). Thus the three brothers parted ways forever. Incidentally, this myth is also prevalent among the neighbouring Angami and Chakesang Nagas.

Myth-making is one of the primary and basic functions of human beings. Mythology reflects the socio-economic, cultural and historical conditions of the community or society. Creation of myth is creation of meaning, and there can be many levels of meanings. Obviously there cannot be any competition between science and mythology. James Frazer argues that human beings think alike. Analysis of myths, folklores,

folktales etc. reveals the universal structure of human being. Even I. Kant argues that basic forms of human thought are similar. The above myth represents evolution rather than the creation of Adam & Eve of Judao-Christian- Islamic world- view.

Tiger and Man representing the animal kingdom and Spirit representing the supernatural realm

are shown as all related, since they are born of a common mother. Participating in the competition is quite natural as they are brothers. In attempting to decipher the meaning of the myth, the question of truth and falsity does not arise. The tiger wanting to eat the mother after her death is perhaps the reflection of the poverty-ridden society at that time. The woman represents reproductive energy. Her name signifying pure

water, being fertilized by a cluster of clouds is perhaps a metaphor of the union between the sky God father and the receptive earth mother from which all things have originated. This is perhaps like the Chinese Yin & Yan principles of female and male or like the Indian principles of Purusha and Prakriti.

A variant of this myth is also prevalent in Ao-Naga folklore. ?

 

 

by:

DR. X.P. MAO

Department of Philosophy,

NEHU, Shillong-22

Extracted from Indian Folklife: From Antiquity to Modern Naga Folklore

A Quarterly Newsletter from National Folklore Support Centre

Serial No.33 July 2009

Kongliang Otsü: An Ao Naga Folk Tale

 A long time ago, in the age of dreams and magical times, when the gods and humans resided side by side, there lived a family with two daughters. One day, the parents went to their jhum field, leaving the two girls at home. The time of year is understood to be around end July to early August. "Tenü (younger sister), today mother and father have gone to the fields, so today I will clean the rice and prepare the pigs’ feed. You go to fetch the water and firewood,” the older sister told her younger sister.

The younger sister readily agreed and went to collect firewood. She came laden with the wood and dumping the load on the ground said to her sister, "Oya (elder sister), I am hungry, give me something to eat!” But the older sister, ignoring her plea, sent her to fetch water three more times. When the younger sister filled all the pots and containers with water, it was time to cook food for the evening meal and the older sister set the pot of rice on the fire. By now, the younger sister was famished and cried out to her elder sister, "Oya! I am so hungry, please give me some food!”

The older sister, instead of feeding her starving sibling, told her to open her palm and proceeded to hit her palm with the hot rice ladle. This was too much for the younger sister who was hungry and tired after so much hard work. Crying loudly, she ran out and huddled in a corner of the ‘sünglang’ (bamboo balcony) at the back of the house. Meanwhile, her parents were on their way home, laden with fresh produce from their field. Their jhum field had yielded a bumper crop and the parents were overjoyed that their hard work had been blessed with such abundance. They were eager to meet their daughters and to see their surprise and joy at the food stuff they had brought for them. However, when they reached home, they found only the older daughter.

"Where is your younger sister?” the mother asked.

"Oh, she is too much; I had to do all the hard work while she has been just loitering around all

day. She must be somewhere sitting outside!” the older daughter replied, pretending to be very busy.

The parents rushed out to look for the younger daughter. They knew very well the characters of both their daughters and concluded that the older sister must have done something bad to hurt the younger sister.

They called out to their younger daughter, telling her that they had brought fresh cucumbers, maize and other foodstuff and that she would be given the first choice to eat whatever she wanted. But the younger sister had heard the blatant lies her older sister had told about her and could not bear the injustice of it all. So she climbed the nearest tree and transformed herself into a small bird ("kongliang”). The parents looked for her everywhere but she was nowhere to be seen. Finally, when they came near the tall tree, they saw a small bird perched there. It was singing the following song mournfully.

"Oyalai süngpeni oang ta

Oyalai tzütai oang ta

Aja-asa meki la

Süngko lidi

Kongliang ta

Kongliang ta”

 

(Older sister sent me to fetch firewood

Older sister sent me to fetch water

Not once was I giving rice and meat

Better to live in the trees

Where am I supposed to stay

Where am I supposed to stay)

Repeating this song, the small bird darted from tree to tree and eventually flew off into the thick forests, leaving the parents heartbroken.

 

Epilogue:

Today, when people hear this small bird darting from tree to tree singing the song "Kongliang, kongliang, kongliang”, they know that it is time to harvest their jhum fields. The harvesting of new rice, cucumbers, chilli, maize, gourds, brinjal and various other vegetables are preceded by this song. This story has been handed down from generation to generation with the idea that the song is a reminder for the parents to teach their children to love one another. The song "kongliang” (literally: where am I supposed to live?) is a constant lesson for older sisters and brothers to love, care, provide and sacrifice for their younger siblings, so that the younger ones will emulate them and, in turn, treat those younger to them in the same manner. The Aos believe that younger ones must be cherished, protected and taken care of and that the younger ones must be obedient and respectful of those older to them. The older children take on the responsibility of taking care of the younger ones and thus play an important supporting role when the parents are out in the fields the whole day. If there is no love between siblings, the home cannot be a place of harmony and contentment and, in such cases, we all become homeless. Material wealth (in this case bumper crops) become meaningless when there is no support, sharing, protection and affection among family members, resulting in disintegration of the most important unit in society In an oral society, such stories were told to children in order to instill in their minds the importance of filial loyalty and love as a strategy for harmonious survival. This and other similar stories can therefore be considered as examples of folklore performing a significant social function.

 

Source:

As told by Mr. T. Molungnenba Ao (86 years old) of Molung village.

Place: Tuli, Mokokchung district, Nagaland

Date: 19.4.2007 ?

 Extracted from Indian Folklife: From Antiquity to Modern Naga Folklore

A Quarterly Newsletter from National Folklore Support Centre

Serial No.33 July 2009

The Story How Tattooing Came About (Ao Folktales)

 In ancient times in the Ao villages, unmarried girls would sleep in the spinster’s house at night.  Girls from both rich and poor families would meet each other and mix there and they would tell stories and laugh together and spend the night there with the old lady.  Amongst the group there was this rich girl and there was also a girl from a poor family who was intelligent, beautiful and popular with many of the other girls.  The rich girl grew quite envious of the poor girl and she disliked her.  During the evenings the rich girl would make fun of the poor girl saying things like, "You cannot even laugh loudly, you are so weak.  You from a poor family, what do you get to eat?  Even when you speak, it sounds as if you haven’t had enough to eat”.  She made fun of her because she was beautiful and popular.

The poor girl happened to be the child of a single parent and as her father was dead, she lived alone with her mother.  In the morning when the daughter returned home from the spinster’s house "dzüki” we call it, she would complain to her mother about the rich girl’s cruel taunts.  "Just wait! Relax! Mum is going to make sure you are not insulted like that again.  Mother is going to fix you up!” Her mother promised.

This went on for sometime until one day when the girl returned in the morning as usual her mother said to her, "For the next week you are not to go out”.  "Why? What is your plan? Asked the daughter.   "I have thought of something” replied her mother.  She then went and brought something to her bedside, calling her daughter to come over and sit on the bed with her.  The mother made her daughter stretch her legs out on the bed and then she took some black stuff from a can and started applying it to her daughter’s legs.  "The daughter cried out, "Ma!  Its painful!” and she tried to get away, but the mother said, "Wait, wait, wait, you wont regret it!  You must bear this pain for a little while but then people are going to admire you and you won’t feel insulted anymore.” "Alright mum, I know you are not going to do me any harm, I know you are going to do the best for me because  you have always loved me”, and replied the girl, remaining calm while her mother finished the work on her legs.  It was rather like hammering.  We are not quite sure what she did but it was quite painful.  Finally mother said, "Look, now it is done.  Look at your legs, look how nice it looks. It is sure to be a success so you must not go out until it is healed  You will feel pain for a while and I will only allow you to go out in about a week’s time.  The girl looked at her feet and she saw black spots and that her legs had also gone red because of the painful thing her mother had done with something that may have been a needle – she had used a sharp, sharp thing to make those black marks. "Its painful and it is red, but as you said it will be healed soon, I am happy”, said the girl.  The mother bandaged up the girl’s legs with cloth and helped her to climb into the loft where things are usually stored in a traditional Naga house, telling her not to come down until she was instructed to do so.  After a couple of days the girls friends came to the house to enquire about her because they were missing her jovial company and they wanted to know how she was.  "She has gone out for a short trip but she will be back soon”, the girl’s mother told them.  "We really miss her”, repeated the girls.  Even the daughter from the rich family showed concern, and the mother said to herself, "you are really going to like her when she comes back”.  The mother was eager to keep it a secret.  She fed her daughter every day and imagined the envy that she would get from the other girls.  After a week she told her daughter to remove the bandages from her legs and have a look at them.  The girl looked at her legs and exclaimed, "Mum, they are looking beautiful!”.  "I feel certain it was a success!” Exclaimed the mother and she helped her daughter down from the loft.  She saw that the girl’s legs were healed and the marks had set and the legs were looking beautiful – black, black, black marks.  After that it was time for the girl to visit the "dzüki” in the evening.  Mother gave her a new shawl and the girl set out to meet her friends at the spinster’s house were the Ao girls slept in those days.  There was no electricity then, only the light from the fire, so her companions did not see her legs at first.  They were so happy and they exclaimed, "Our friend has come back at last!”, they were all very excited to see her.  They gathered around the fire and started to discuss things and tell stories in the firelight. The poor girl wanted to show off her tattoos, so she took up a position close to the fire and sat with her legs forward.  Everyone suddenly saw the marks and exclaimed, "Why, what is this?  It is looking beautiful!  What did you do?  That is why you went away, how did you get it.?”  "I don’t know”, said the poor girl as she wanted to keep it a secret.  The rich girl especially wanted to know where she had got it from and the tattoos were all they could talk about that evening.

The next day the whole village saw the new tattoos and they all admired them and talked about the girl’s beauty.  Everyone went crazy over her, the boys too.  The rich girl was furious and envious and she was determined to know the secret.  By now all the villagers were offering all kinds of things to have their daughters tattooed too and the mother could not say no, so  she started tattooing their legs and this is how it started.  It began with legs but the tattoos spread to the chin and cheeks.  You know we have Monsen and Chungli in the Ao community.  This story I am telling you is in Monsen language.  Anyway, from that day on the villages started tattooing different patterns of tattoos for the different clans.  It would be easy to see a Monsen girl from a Chungli girl by the patterns of their tattoos.  The boys found it helpful too, in distinguishing the girls they admired and tattooing became very popular.  It all began from that time when the mother of the poor girl used her creativity to bring admiration for her daughter which goes to show that you can be creative even if you are not rich.

extracted from talleststory.com

The copyright and the way the story is narrated is totally the authors view. NagaJournal is not responsible for anything.

The Story of Clan Marriage (Ao Stories)

I was told this story by my father and it contains a good moral.    It is a tragic love story.  There was a handsome young man once in Chunglimti,  where we Aos originated.  He was very talented and he could sing and dance very well and he was so handsome that all the women of the village fell in love with him.  One of his admirers was a rich lady who had seen him and fallen in love with him once at  a festival when he had been dancing in his traditional warrior costume.  She approached him, and at that very moment he also fell in love with her at first sight, and their relationship began to grow.

The couple were so much in love that they never stopped to think of their family backgrounds. They didn’t even wonder about such things, they were only thinking of each other and how to keep the relationship going.  One day however they were strolling together and talking of their families when he enquired of her clan name:  We Aos have several clans, such as Jamir, Lamtor and so on.  She told him that she was a  Lamtor, and it turns out that he was from the same Lamtor clan.  From our forefather’s day we have had a law which forbids any two people from the same clan from marriage.  It was very unfortunate, as they were already deeply in love when they came to discover that they were from the same clan.  There is a saying that when a boy and a girl from the same clan fall in love, it will be very hard for them to separate.  These days we are often faced with people from the same clan falling in love and living together as a family, but in the village this has always been unacceptable and those that do it are rejected by their families.  This story tells of the origin of this rule.

The lovers could not end their relationship, it was too late for that.  Soon everyone came to know of their love and the fact that they were from the same clan. The village council discussed it and decided that something had to be done, the situation could not continue.  The lovers realized what was going on and they had to meet in secret.  The villagers gave them an ultimatum to break the relationship or to face capital punishment.  A few days later and they observed that that the lovers were still together so they decided to inflict capital punishment on the offenders.  They decided that death would be the only thing that would deter others from following their example in the future.

The villagers stoned the couple to death and buried them together in a single grave.  From that very place a plant grew from the ground.  It was a vine of the type that climbs up from the right to the left  when it grows, but this particular one grew in the opposite way, climbing up from the left side.  It is considered an ill omen by us, indicating that something is wrong.  We call that plant "machizü” and it still exists.  That plant is a reminder to us not to fall in love with someone from the same clan.  The plant shows us that it is a wrong thing to do.  This is what our forefathers have taught us, that before you fall in love, you must find out which clan the girl  is from.

As narrated and translated by :  Mr. Temjen Lemtur

Tso-o and Terhuopudü (Angami Folktales)

Tso-o was a very handsome and smart man from Secuma and he was admired by all.
Terhuopudü was a very beautiful woman from Meriema, and both were the pride of their respective villages.Tso-o and Terhuopudü met one day while they were out grazing with their cattle, and on their first meeting they fell deeply in love and promised to marry.

Later in the day the two returned to their villages to  ask their parents for their permission, but they were refused and forbidden from ever meeting again, as the two villages were sworn enemies.But Tso-o and Terhuopudü could not help meeting each other under the big rock where they had met first.  Their love for each other was so great that they could not stay apart.  They continued to meet and share their food, resting under the rock while their cattle grazed despite all the warnings.  One day they decided to meet under the rock at a particular time.  Terhuopudü waited and waited but Tso-o was detained by his parents and admirers and he did not turn up. Terhuopudü felt so betrayed that she started crying and as she cried, her tears dropped onto a large leaf.  When evening came, she returned to her village.  Just then Tso-o came to look for her and seeing her tears on the leaf, he followed her.He ran to her village as fast as he could and he called out to her, but Terhuopudü did not respond.  He called repeatedly and finally she turned up in anger.  As she did, she happened to see Tso-o  drinking her tears that had collected on the leaf, but she still felt betrayed.One of Tso-o’s cows had followed her back to her village and Tso-o came looking for her the next morning.

Terhuopudü was grinding rice with her mother, and she refused to talk with him, though she directed him to the shed where she had locked his cow the previous night.  Tso-o jumped into the shed and retrieved his prized bull.On seeing his agility and good looks, Terhuopudü’s mother was impressed, and she enquired as to his identity and that was when Terhuopudü told her that it was Tso-o, the man she had loved.Tso-o and Terhuopudü never met again after that incident.   They both got married and had children. But as fate would have it, their fields were near each other, and one day Tso-o’s son came to Terhuopudü’s hut asking for hot coals to start a fire.  On seeing the boy, she enquired as to whose son he was and the boy replied that his father was Tso-o.  Terhuopudü then gave him her necklace and said "You are as handsome as your father but unlike him, never break your word!”

When Tso-o heard of this from his son, he was saddened and he regretted that he had not kept his word that fateful day.

extracted from talleststory.com

The copyright and the way the story is narrated is totally the authors view. NagaJournal is not responsible for anything

Dunai and Siinai (A poumai Folktale)

by wungnaongam

Long ago, there lived a family. The family had two daughters. The elder daughter was named Dunai and the younger one as Siinai. Dunai with her mother no more, she grew up as step daughter in the family. Her step-mother treated her very cruelly, forcing her to do all the household chores and kept scolding her in every possible way. She had no leisure time to be with her friends or to socialize with others. Thus, she lived a very miserable life. On the other hand, Siinai the younger daughter of the family, was well looked after receiving all the affection. She lived a very comfortable life doing whatever she pleased to do.

                  One fine day, some friends of Dunai asked her, if she would like to join them for collecting fire wood from the forest. She agreed and said to her friends, "Please wait for me, let me first complete my household chores”. But her work was too much to be finished on time. Thus, by the time she finished her work, her friends had already left as they could not wait any longer. In the hope of catching them up, she kept ambling her way into the forest, and as she continued to walk, suddenly she saw a very handsome young man wearing ensemble Teisa[1], Rusa[2] and Tousiirou[3] sarong. Dunai reluctantly asked the young man with a blush on her face and a tremble in her heart, "Hey, young man, would you tell me if you saw my friends passed this way?” The young man gently replied, "Yes, but it has been long that your friends have passed this way, you won’t be able to catch up with them anymore.” But he willingly added, "Don’t worry I would collect the fire woods for you.” Dunai mulled over and said to herself, "Since, I would not be able to catch up with my friends, moreover it is getting so late, I think it would be better for me to accept what this man offers”. So, she consented to what the man offered and allowed him to fill her load. When she decided to move out, the young man said, "Hey! I would visit your place tonight.” Shocked at the bold statement, Dunai retorted and said, "If you say so, I would drop the load and return home empty handed”. But the young man assuaged her fear by saying, "Hey that was only a joke”. Dunai lifted her load and tried to set out. Again the young man said, "Hey, I would visit your place tonight”. To this Dunai said, "If you say so I would drop my load and return home empty handed”. The young man said, "Hey that was only a joke”. Finally he allowed her to go without interrupting her.

Dunai managed to reach home safely but she was deeply troubled by the encounter with a stranger and the thought of his visitation. That night, as she retired to the girls Morung[4] to be with her friends she was deeply troubled thinking if that man would really visit her. She narrated the whole incident of her encounter with a stranger to her friends. She added that, "He even told me that, he would visit me tonight”. So, she requested her friends to allow her sleep in the middle, so that the man won’t be able trace her. Her friends said to her, "Dunai don’t worry it would be alright, we are here with you, we would let you sleep in the middle.” Her friends allowed her to sleep in the middle. Soon, all her friends and the guardian[5] of the Morung slept away. But Dunai was wide awake; her mind refused to sleep though her body needed rest. Then, as fate would have it, the man arrived shortly after everyone had slept. They had been cast upon by the spell of the strange man.  He entered calling, "Dunai, where are you, I have come to take you, let us go now”. But there was no response. He started searching by pulling them out one after another saying, "This is not my Dunai”, "This is also not my Dunai” he went on searching for Dunai, finally his hand reached her and pulled her out saying, "this is my Dunai, come let’s go”. But Dunai pleaded with him and said, "Wait, let me talk to my friends and the guardian of our Morung. She tried to wake her friends and the guardian of the Morung with every possible way. She tussled them, pinched them, she even put burning ember into their palm but it was all in vain, as they were under the spell of that man. Thus, Dunai was taken away by the strange young man.

As they journeyed towards what this stranger called ‘home’, she was shocked by the strange turn of events and the roughness of the path, where no humans were accustomed to walk, until she found that his house was situated between the rocks in the cliff. She had no choice but to accept the young man as her husband. And as they lived together she discovered that her husband would turn into a man during the day but at night he would transformed himself into a huge snake.  One day, she confided her fears to her parents and said to them, "Mom and Dad, I am so shattered by this, my husband turns himself to a man during the day and at night he would transformed himself into a huge snake”. On hearing this, her parents came up with an idea to tackle the situation. Her father said, "Dunai bring your husband to my house one of this days, I would arrange good food and drinks and let’s celebrate and feast together”. Dunai’s parents soon began with the preparation for the visit.  They tried to brew the best rice beer by adding Kaleithou[6]. On the appointed day Dunai brought her husband to the house of her parents. Dunai’s husband wore Teisa, Rusa and Tousiiru sarong. Now, as they arrived, Dunai’s parent’s slaughtered cock and piglets and served Dunai’s husband, letting him eat and drink to his fullest. Soon the effects of drinks slowly acted on her husband. Dunai’s husband said, "Now let me sleep, please spread Zha[7] on the porch so that I could rest for the night there alone.” Every thing was arranged as requested, soon he wallowed himself unmindful of his surrounding and turned himself into a huge snake and occupied the whole Zha. Dunai’s father said, "This is the time I have been waiting”. He grabbed his sword and honed it until it got very sharp. When it got very sharp, he cut the snake into seven log-sized pieces. Thus, his son-in-law, the snake, was killed.

Since her husband was killed, Dunai stayed with her parents. But though her husband was no more, Dunai still carried in her womb, the offspring of her deceased husband. Dunai and her mother always used to go together for any kind of work. But even though they always go to the paddy field together, Dunai always returned home early. She refused even when her mother asked her to come late on certain days. She always used to return home earlier than her mother. Her mother began to wonder why her daughter always wanted to go home early. Finally she revealed the truth that she is already pregnant and on the verge to give birth. So her mother boiled water in the cauldron wherein her daughter would deliver the young snake(s), perhaps, knowing fully that she would deliver them. The plan was well executed but to their surprised the last one slipped out of the cauldron badly burned from the boiling water on its head, and made its way to the NgariRiver[8]. Therefore, it is believed till today, that whenever the flood is accompanied by this scar-headed snake - it certainly claims a victim[9] as it returns.

[1]   A shawl with green and red stripes on each horizontal sides and decoratively printed on each ends.

"Teisa” literally means "black shawl”, because it is mostly black.

 

[2]   Another type of shawl, white in color, with big stitches in the middle, this particular shawl is worn

by only those who have hosted a Feast of Merit.

 

[3]   A wrap-around of skirt length worn by men. It is black in colour with white stripes horizontally

woven over it in two or three lines.

[4]   Morung is a socially established house for young people of different age groups to be trained of the

social and cultural etiquettes. It is the traditional house of education. Men and women have different

dormitory as also seen witnessed in story.

 

[5]   This particular tradition is carried out normally in any of the group member’s house. The parents of

that particular boy or girl parents are called the guardian of the Morung.

[6]   A nut of a creeping plant found in the deep forest, the purpose of adding this to the rice beer is to let

the level of intoxication increase.

 

[7]   A mat-like spread, usually of 5 feet wide and 10 feet long, normally used to dry paddy before

pounding.

[8]   This river is situated in Ngari village of Poumai area, Senapati District, Manipur.

 

[9]   Whenever a person died in the flood, people normally believed that this particular scar-headed snake

might have accompanied the flood and thus, claims a victim

The Story of Raünthüvüpa and Lürathiüvüpa (Pochury Folktale)

The Story of Raünthüvüpa and Lürathiüvüpa

Laruri Village
Storyteller: L. Jimpong Thüvüri
Translated by Mr. Mr. Lalhmangaiha, Head Teacher, Sütsü

This is the story of the village chief of Leruri and his relationship with the tiger, who is the king of the forest.  It also tells of the origin of Leruri village.

In olden days man killed tigers and tigers killed men.  There was hero once called Ralimpong, and his father was called Dvüdey, and he was the king of the village.  One day, when Ralimpong was just a baby,  his parents went to field to work, leaving their small child alone in the field hut.  When they returned, they saw a tiger coming out of the hut, and the tiger was licking his lips.  Both of them cried out, "Our child is no more!  Our darling has been eaten by the tiger!”  But when they entered the hut, to their astonishment they found that their son had been licked clean by the tiger and was sleeping soundly.

They could not believe it and when they returned to the village for the night and were sleeping soundly, the tiger appeared in their dreams and conveyed a message to them.  The message was this:  I want you to be my relatives, and I want the child to be named Ralimpong.  From that day onwards, the chief’s clan (known as Thüvüri) and tigers do not hunt one another, and whenever a person dies from the chief’s clan, tigers can be heard some where nearby moaning.

The Story of the Shapi (Hollocks Gibbon) : Pochury Folktale

The Story of the Shapi (Hollocks Gibbon)

Laruri Village
Storyteller: Tampingtsü Thüvüri
Mr. Tampingtsü
Translated by Mr. Mr. Lalhmangaiha, Head Teacher, Sütsü

In our forefathers’ time, people would go to the field together in groups, and these groups would take turns tilling the fields.  This is a story of a group of females from our village who went to work in the field.   Amongst this group some of them were orphans and  one day, on the way back home, the group stopped and started talking about mothers.  They asked each other, "Does your mother love you? Does she care for you? "  One woman replied, " Yes my mother loves and cares for me”.  The others told her to carry the bamboo basket used to hold the tools and the midday meal to the village and to give it to her family.  Those that were not loved and care for by their parents, or didn’t have parents at all, took off their leggings (used to protect them from mosquitoes while working in the field) and tied them around their heads as headbands and then  they climbed up into a tree and together they began to sing, and their song goes like this:

"Tsaso king matri nvüso king matri, kang kang lopepe he tra tra”, ending the song with "trülak trülak”.  This translates as "I have no fear of the spear, I have no fear of the dao, I only have fear of the sound of the cross bow”.  (At the end of the song they call the shapi or hollocks gibbon which makes the sound "trülak trülak” when they jump from tree to tree).

We believe that the shapi monkey, the hillocks gibbon, is related to this group of girls who had no parents.  This type of monkey does not destroy our crops.

The Story of Ayowsü (Pochury Folktale)

The Story of Ayowsü (Pochury)

Laruri Village                                                                                         

Storyteller: Pangretsü Jingtshiri
Translated by Mr. Mr. Lalhmangaiha, Head Teacher, Sütsü

In this area people are mostly farmers.  Once upon a time, a man from Leruri caught a wolf cub while he was working in the field.  He brought the cub home and he reared it and called it Ayowsü.  Now this cub grew up to become a very intelligent, well behaved, civilized animal and he lived as part of the family.  The young wolf would often go out hunting and whenever she killed an animal she would call her master to carry it home, and in this way she became valuable to the family and they all lived together happily.

On one particular day, Ayowsü went hunting and she killed a deer.  She went home happily but found that her master was not there, so she called her mistress to come and carry back the deer.  But her mistress was pregnant, and she was busy cooking and furthermore she did not understand what the wolf wanted.    In a bad temper, she hit the wolf with her wooden cooking spoon, driving the wolf out and into the jungle.  The mistress then realized her folly and started chasing the wolf, calling out her name, "Ayowsü! Ayowsü!” -but the wolf would only respond with a "Woo”.  The woman went onto the next mountain and called again "Ayowsü! Ayowsü!” and again the wolf responded with a  "Woo”, but would not return home.  In this way the wolf went further and further away, crossing several ridges of hills until the woman could not chase her pet anymore and could only call Ayowsü! Ayowsü!”- and sing this sing:

"O Ayowsey, O Ayowsey
O Ayowsü nü mokithow
O Ayowsü nü ali petho
Lüsey nong mokithow
O dramongthe? O dramongthe?

Which translates as:
O Ayowshey, O Ayowshey
O Ayowsü how sad it is
O Ayowsü has gone feeling sadO where are you crying now?
To the other side,
O where are you crying now?

After singing this song she said, "O Ayowshey, if you are not coming back, please, whenever you kill an animal, do not just throw it into the river, but leave it on the ground so that we can come and take it.  Oh how we long for  you!

And this was how the mistress of the house lost her beautiful, obedient pet because she could not control her temper.  The lesson is that an uncontrolled temper can cause irreparable damage.