The Legend of the Pineapple Fruit

There was a pretty little girl called Pina who was pampered by her mother as an only child. Everything
that Pina asked for, Pina got. Everything that Pina scoffed at was taken away. No one in her village was
ever so spoiled as Pina. No one was ever such a snobbish child. She was so lazy, and she had never
stirred a finger to work in her life.

Pinas mother was perfectly happy that way, for Pina remained dependent on her as a spoiled child. But
one day, Pinas mother fell ill and there was no one to take care of Pina. She resolved that she would get
well immediately for Pinas sake but she knew she would need help.

"Pina, Pina," she called weakly, from her cot. "Come here a moment. I have something to ask of you."
Pina had never been asked to do anything in her life, and she was quite prepared to refuse, but she said
anyway, "What is it, Mother?"

"Pina," said the doting mother, "I am too sick to make you anything to eat. I am too sick to eat anything
solid. I need you to cook lugaw for me, Pina. It is very easy: just put some rice in a pot, pour some water in
with it, add a pinch of sugar, and leave the mixture to boil for a while."

"Oh, thats too hard! I wont do it," Pina said firmly.

"You have to, Pina!" her mother pleaded. "What will your poor Nanay eat?"

But Pina was immovable. At length her motherRESORTED to shouting if only to catch her attention.
Moping, Pina dragged her heavy feet down the stairs to gather the things she needed to make lugaw. She
managed to find the rice, the water, the bowl, the sugar but she could not find the ladle anywhere. How
was she supposed to cook lugaw without a ladle?

"Nanay, where is the ladle?" Pina shouted.

"It is beside the other kitchen utensils, Pina, you know where I keep them," her mother weakly shouted
back.

But the ladle was not anywhere near the other kitchen utensils, and Pina was too lazy to look for it
elsewhere. "I cant find the ladle, mother," she complained. "I guess I wont be cooking without the ladle."

"Oh, you lazy child," Pinas mother wept. "You wont even look! I hope you grow a thousand eyes so youll
be able to find it!" After saying these words, Pinas mother noticed that the house had fallen silent. Pina
was no longer griping downstairs! That was a marvel. Perhaps she was already cooking. Pinas mother
would be happy if the child would cook her anything, even if it were burnt.

But a long time had passed, and still the house was silent, and still Pinas mother could not smell the
cooking coals burning. She began to get worried. With all her meager strength she called out for Pina. Pina
did not come, but the neighbors heard her pitiful cries, and they decided to drop by to see what was
wrong. They took care of Pinas mother in the childs place.

"Where is Pina?" Pinas mother asked at once. "Where is my child?"

"Oh, you know that girl," they assured her, "she must be in some friends house, having a good time. She
hates responsibility. She may only be a little angry at you because you had asked her to work. It will pass,
and she will come home."

Pinas mother rested easily with that thought, and she recovered quickly. But she was up and about and
asking all around town for her precious little child, and still Pina had not returned.

One sunny day, while Pinas mother was cleaning their back yard, she saw a strange yellow fruit about as
large as the head of a child that had sprung up from the ground. "How curious!" she thought, and bent to
examine it. The strange, spiny yellow fruit, she saw, had a thousand black eyes.

"A thousand eyes...!" she gasped, remembering a mothers curse carelessly let out. "My Pina!"

But there was nothing to be done. Imagine a thousand black eyes and not one of them seeing, and not one
of them being able to shed a tear. Pinas mother, who still loved the child more than anything in the world,
decided to honor her memory by taking the seeds of the strange yellow fruit and planting them. When after
a while there was more of the fruit, Pinas mother gave her harvest away to everyone she knew. Thus Pina,
in another form, became generous to others.

To this day the Filipinos call the yellow fruit pinya, after the pretty spoiled child.

The Princess Mouse

A Tale of Finland
Told by Aaron Shepard

Once there was a farmer with two sons. One morning he said to them, Boys,
youre old enough now to marry. But in our family, we have our own way to
choose a bride.
 The younger son listened respectfully, but the older one said, Youve told
us, Father. We must each cut down a tree and see where it points.
Thats right, said the farmer. Then walk that way till you find a
sweetheart. Thats how weve done it, and thats how we always will.
Now, the older son already knew who he wanted to marry. He also knew
how to cut a tree so it fell how he wanted. So, his tree fell and pointed to the
farm where his sweetheart lived.
The younger son, whose name was Mikko, didnt have a sweetheart, but
he thought hed try his luck in the town. Well, maybe he cut the tree wrong, or
maybe it had thoughts of its own, but it fell pointing to the forest.
Good job, Mikko! his brother mocked. What sweetheart will you find
there? A wolf or a fox?
Never mind, said Mikko. Ill find who I find.
The two young men went their ways. Mikko walked through the forest for
hours without seeing a soul. But at last he came to a cottage deep in the woods.
I knew Id find a sweetheart! said Mikko. But when he went inside, he
saw no one.
All this way for nothing, he said sadly.
Maybe not! came a tiny voice.
Mikko looked around, but the only living thing in sight was a little mouse
on a table. Standing on its hind legs, it gazed at him with large, bright eyes.
Did you say something? he asked it.
Of course I did! Now, why dont you tell me your name and what you
came for?
Mikko had never talked with a mouse, but he felt it only polite to reply.
My name is Mikko, and Ive come looking for a sweetheart.
The mouse squealed in delight. Why, Mikko, Ill gladly be your
sweetheart!
But youre only a mouse, said Mikko.
That may be true, she said, but I can still love you faithfully. Besides,
even a mouse can be special! Come feel my fur.
With one finger, Mikko stroked the mouses back. Why, it feels like
velvet! Just like the gown of a princess!
Thats right, Mikko. And as he petted her, she sang to him prettily.
Mikkos sweetheart will I be.
What a fine young man is he!
Gown of velvet I do wear,
Like a princess fine and rare.
Mikko looked into those large, bright eyes and thought she really was
quite nice, for a mouse. And since hed found no one else anyway, he said, All
right, little mouse, you can be my sweetheart.
 Oh, Mikko! she said happily. I promise you wont be sorry.
Mikko wasnt so sure, but he just stroked her fur and smiled.
When Mikko got home, his brother was already there boasting to their
father. My sweetheart has rosy red cheeks and long golden hair.
Sounds very nice, said the farmer. And what about yours, Mikko?
Yes, Mikko, said his brother, laughing. Did you find a sweetheart with
a nice fur coat?
Now, Mikko didnt want to admit his sweetheart was a mouse. So he said,
Mine wears a velvet gown, like a princess!
His brother stopped laughing.
Well! said the farmer. It sounds like Mikkos tree pointed a good way
too! But now I must test both your sweethearts. Tomorrow youll ask them to
weave you some cloth, then youll bring it home to me. Thats how weve done
it, and thats how we always will.
They started out early next morning. When Mikko reached the cottage in
the woods, there was the little mouse on the table. She jumped up and down
and clapped her tiny paws.
Oh, Mikko, Im so glad youre here! Is this the day of our wedding?
Mikko gently stroked her fur. Not yet, little mouse, he said glumly.
Why, Mikko, you look so sad! Whats wrong?
My father wants you to weave some cloth. But how can you do that?
Youre only a mouse!
That may be true, she said, but Im also your sweetheart, and surely
Mikkos sweetheart can weave! But you must be tired from your walk. Why
dont you rest while I work?
All right, said Mikko, yawning. He lay down on a bed in the corner, and
the little mouse sang him a pretty lullaby.
Mikkos sweetheart will I be.
What a fine young man is he!
Cloth of linen I will weave.
Ill be done when he must leave.
When the little mouse was sure that Mikko was asleep, she picked up a
sleigh bell on a cord and rang it. Out of mouseholes all around theROOM
poured hundreds of mice. They all stood before the table, gazing up at her.
Hurry! she said. Each of you, fetch a strand of the finest flax.
The mice rushed from the cottagethen one, two, three, and back they
were, each with a strand of flax.
First they spun it into yarn on the spinning wheel. Whirr. Whirr.
Whirr. Some worked the pedal, some fed the flax, some rode around with the
wheel.
 Then they strung the yarn on the loom and wove it into cloth. Swish.
Thunk. Swish. Thunk. Swish. Thunk. Some worked the pedals, some rocked
the beater, some sailed the shuttle back and forth.
At last they cut the cloth from the loom and tucked it in a nutshell.
Now, off with you! said the little mouse, and they all scampered back to
their mouseholes. Then she called, Mikko, wake up! Its time to go home! And
here is something for your father.
Mikko sleepily took the nutshell. He didnt know why his father should
want such a thing, but he said, Thank you, little mouse.
When he got home, his brother was proudly presenting the cloth from his
sweetheart. The farmer looked it over and said, Strong and fairly even. Good
enough for simple folks like us. And where is yours, Mikko?
Mikko blushed and handed him the nutshell.
Look at that! said his brother. Mikko asked for cloth, and his
sweetheart gave him a nut!
But the farmer opened the nutshell and peered inside. Then he pinched
at something and started to pull. Out came linen, fine beyond belief. It kept
coming too, yard after yard after yard.
Mikkos brother gaped with open mouth, and Mikko did too!
There can be no better weaver than Mikkos sweetheart! declared the
farmer. But both your sweethearts will do just fine. Tomorrow youll bring
them home for the wedding. Thats how weve done it, and thats how we
always will.
When Mikko arrived at the cottage next morning, the little mouse again
jumped up and down. Oh, Mikko, is this the day of our wedding?
It is, little mouse. But he sounded more glum than ever.
Why, Mikko, whats wrong?
How can I bring home a mouse to marry? My brother and father and all
our friends and neighbors will laugh and think Im a fool!
They might think so, indeed, she said softly. But, Mikko, what
do you think?
Mikko looked at the little mouse, gazing at him so seriously with her
large, bright eyes. He thought about how she loved him and cared for him.
I think youre as sweet as any sweetheart could be. So let them laugh and
think what they like. Today youll be my bride.
Oh, Mikko, youve made me the happiest mouse in the world!
She rang her sleigh bell, and to Mikkos astonishment, a little carriage
raced into the room. It was made from a nutshell and pulled by four black rats.
A mouse coachman sat in front, and a mouse footman behind.
Mikko, said the little mouse, arent you going to help me down?
 Mikko lifted her from the table and set her in the carriage. The rats took
off and the carriage sped from the cottage, so that Mikko had to rush to catch
up.
While he hurried along behind her, the little mouse sang a pretty song.
Mikkos sweetheart will I be.
What a fine young man is he!
In a carriage I will ride
When I go to be his bride.
At last they reached the farm and then the spot for the wedding, on the
bank of a lovely, swift-flowing stream. The guests were already there enjoying
themselves. But as Mikko came up, they all grew silent and stared at the little
carriage.
Mikkos brother stood with his bride, gaping in disbelief. Mikko and the
little mouse went up to him.
Thats the stupidest thing I ever saw, said his brother, and with one
quick kick, sent the carriage, the rats, and the mice, all into the stream. Before
Mikko could do a thing, the current bore them away.
What have you done! cried Mikko. Youve killed my sweetheart!
Are you crazy? said his brother. That was only a mouse!
She may have been a mouse, said Mikko tearfully, but she was also my
sweetheart, and I really did love her!
He was about to swing at his brother, when his father called, Mikko,
look!
All the guests were staring downstream and pointing and crying out in
wonder. Mikko turned and to his amazement saw four black horses pulling a
carriage out of the stream. A coachman sat in front and a footman behind, and
inside was a soaked but lovely princess in a gown of pearly velvet.
The carriage rode up along the bank and stopped right before him.
Mikko, said the princess, arent you going to help me down?
Mikko stared blankly a moment, and then his eyes flew wide. Are you
the little mouse?
I surely was, said the princess, laughing, but no longer. A witch
enchanted me, and the spell could be broken only by one brother who wanted
to marry me and another who wanted to kill me. But, sweetheart, I need a
change of clothes. I cant be wet at our wedding!
And a grand wedding it was, with Mikkos bride the wonder of all. The
farmer could hardly stop looking at her. Of course, Mikkos brother was a bit
jealous, but his own bride was really quite nice, so he couldnt feel too bad.
The next day, the princess brought Mikko back to her cottagebut it was
a cottage no longer! It was a castle with hundreds of servants, and there they
made their home happily.
 And if Mikko and the princess had any sons, you know just how they
chose their brides.

About the Story

My retelling is based mostly on The Forest Bride, in Mighty Mikko: A Book
of Finnish Fairy Tales and Folk Tales, by Parker Fillmore, Harcourt Brace,
New York, 1922. Fillmores own retellings were based on folklore collections of
Finnish scholar Eero Salmelainen, unfortunately still not available in English.
I also consulted The Mouse Bride, in Tales from a Finnish Tupa, by James
Cloyd Bowman and Margery Bianco, Albert Whitman, Chicago, 1940.

Master Man
A Tall Tale of Nigeria
Told by Aaron Shepard

Once there was a man who was strong.

When he gathered firewood, he hauled twice as much as anyone else in
the village. When he hunted, he carried home two antelopes at once.
This mans name was Shadusa, and his wife was named Shettu. One day
he said to her, Just look at these muscles. I must be the strongest man in the
world. From now on, just call me Master Man.
But Shettu said, Quit your foolish boasting. No matter how strong you
are, there will always be someone stronger. And watch out, or someday you
may meet him.
The next day, Shettu paid a visit to a neighboring village. On the walk
home she grew thirsty, so she stopped by a well. She threw in the bucket
splashthen she pulled on the rope. But though she tugged and she heaved,
she could not lift the bucket.
Just then a woman walked up with a baby strapped to her back. Balanced
on her head was a calabash, a hollow gourd for carrying water.
Youll get no water here today, said Shettu. The bucket wont come
up.
The two women pulled together, but still the bucket would not budge.
Wait a moment, said the woman. She untied her baby and set him on
the ground. Pull up the bucket for Mama.
 The baby quickly pulled up the bucket and filled his mothers calabash.
Then he threw in the bucket and pulled it up once more for Shettu.
Shettu gasped. I dont believe it!
Oh, its not so strange, said the woman. After all, my husband is
Master Man.
When Shettu got home, she told Shadusa what had happened.
Master Man? yelled Shadusa. He cant call himself that! Im Master
Man. Ill have to teach that fellow a lesson.
Oh, husband, dont! pleaded Shettu. If the baby is so strong, think
what the father must be like. Youll get yourself killed.
But Shadusa said, Well see about that!
The next morning, Shadusa set out early and walked till he came to the
well. He threw in the bucketsplashthen he pulled on the rope. But though
he tugged and he heaved, he could not lift the bucket.
Just then the woman with the baby walked up.
Wait a minute, said Shadusa. What do you think youre doing?
Im getting water, of course, answered the woman.
Well, you cant, said Shadusa. The bucket wont come up.
The woman set down the baby, who quickly pulled up the bucket and
filled his mothers calabash.
Wah! yelled Shadusa. How did he do that?
Its easy, said the woman, when your father is Master Man.
Shadusa gulped and thought about going home. But instead he thrust out
his chest and said, I want to meet this fellow, so I can show him whos
the real Master Man.
Oh, I wouldnt do that, said the woman. He devours men like you! But
suit yourself.
So Shadusa followed the woman back to her compound. Inside the fenced
yard was a gigantic fireplace, and beside it was a pile of huge bones.
Whats all this? asked Shadusa.
Well, you see, said the woman, our hut is so small that my husband
must come out here to eat his elephants.
Just then they heard a great ROAR, so loud that Shadusa had to cover his
ears. Then the ground began to shake, until Shadusa could hardly stand.
Whats that? he shouted.
Thats Master Man.
Oh, no! wailed Shadusa. You werent fooling. Ive got to get out of
here!
Its too late now, said the woman. But let me hide you.
By the fence were some large clay pots, each as tall as a man, for storing
grain. She helped him climb into one, then set the lid in place.
 Shadusa raised the lid a crack to peek out. And there he was, coming into
the compound with a dead elephant across his shoulders. It was Master Man!
Did you have a good day, dear? asked the woman.
Yes! bellowed Master Man. But I forgot my bow and arrows. I had to
kill this elephant with my bare hands.
As Shadusa watched in terror, Master Man built a huge fire in the
fireplace, roasted the elephant, and devoured every bit of it but the bones.
Suddenly he stopped and sniffed. Wife! I smell a man!
Oh, theres no man here now, said the woman. One passed by while
you were gone. That must be what you smell.
Too bad, thundered Master Man. He would have been tasty. Then he
rolled over on the ground, and before long the leaves were trembling from his
snores.
The woman hurried over to the pot and slid off the lid. Quick! she
whispered. Get away while you can.
Shadusa leaped out and bolted down the path. But he hadnt gone too far
when he heard a distant ROAR and felt the ground tremble beneath him.
Master Man was coming!
Shadusa ran till he came upon five farmers hoeing a field.
Whats your hurry? called one.
Master Man is after me!
Take it easy, said the farmer. We wont let anyone hurt you.
Just then they heard a terrible ROAR. The farmers all dropped their hoes
and covered their ears.
What was that? asked the farmer.
That was Master Man!
Well, then, said the farmer, youd better keep running! And the five
farmers fled across the field.
Shadusa ran on till he met ten porters carrying bundles.
Whats your hurry? called one.
Master Man is after me!
Relax, said the porter. No one can fight us all.
Just then the ground quaked, and they all bounced into the air. The
porters fell in a heap, all mixed up with their bundles.
What was that? asked the porter.
That was Master Man!
Then run for your life! And the ten porters bolted from the path.
Shadusa ran on till he rounded a bendthen he stopped short. There
beside the path sat a stranger, and there beside the stranger lay a huge pile of
elephant bones.
Whats your hurry? growled the stranger.
Master Man is after me, moaned Shadusa.
 You better not say socause Im Master Man!
From behind Shadusa came another ROAR, and once again he bounced
into the air. The stranger caught him in one hand as Master Man ran up.
Let me have him! bellowed Master Man.
Come and get him! growled the stranger.
Master Man lunged, but the stranger tossed Shadusa into a tree. Then the
two strong men wrapped themselves around each other and wrestled across
the ground.
The noise of the battle nearly deafened Shadusa. The dust choked him.
The trembling of the tree nearly shook him down.
As Shadusa watched, the two men struggled to their feet, still clutching
each another. Then each gave a mighty leap, and together they rose into the
air. Higher and higher they went, till they passed through a cloud and out of
sight.
Shadusa waited and waited, but the men never came back down. At last
he climbed carefully from the tree, then ran and ran and never stopped till he
got home safe and sound. And he never called himself Master Man again.
As for those other two, theyre still in the clouds, where they battle on to
this day. Of course, they rest whenever theyre both worn out. But sooner or
later they start up again, and what a noise they make!
Some people call that noise thunder. But now you know what
it really istwo fools fighting forever to see which one is Master Man.

About the Story

Master Man is a tale of the Hausa, the largest ethnic group of northern
Nigeria. The Hausa live mainly on the savannah (grassland with scattered
trees) of Nigerias northwest quarter.
Though most Hausa live in rural villagesas portrayed in this storythe
larger Hausa towns have possessed a sophisticated urban culture since long
before European colonization. As traders, the Hausa have for centuries
maintained economic and cultural contacts throughout West Africa. Their
adoption of Islam led to early development of literacy and written literature.
Tall tales like this about fighting he-men are popular among the Hausa.
Many such stories feature the stock character Mijin-Maza, or Namiji-Mijin-
Maza. Master Man is my own rendering of this name, which has been
translated variously as A-Man-Among-Men, Manly-Man, and Superman.
The main source for my retelling is No. 12, A story about a giant, and the
cause of thunder, inHausa Folk-Lore, Customs, Proverbs, Etc., by R.
Sutherland Rattray, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1913, Volume 1. I drew also on
several other Hausa variants of the tale, collectively titled The Story of Manly-
Man and found in Volume 2 of Hausa Tales and Traditions, by Frank Edgar,
edited and translated by Neil Skinner, University of Wisconsin Press,
Madison, 1977 (a translation of EdgarsLitafi Na Tatsuniyoyi Na Hausa, W.
Erskine Mayne, Belfast, 19111913). And I received my first taste of the tale
from the delightful Superman, told by Laura Simms, on her tape Stories:
Old as the World, Fresh as the Rain, Weston Woods, 1981.

How the Zebra got its Stripes

by Ginny - aged 12
Forest City - U.S.A.

Tweet91

Zebras, many years ago were not black and white. They were
white.

Some would say that they were a mixture between a white horse,
and a donkey or mule.

People at this time were still trying to domesticate (or train) wild
horses so they could show them off, and prance around on them
since they were so beautiful.

Now zebras were called zebras since they were a bit different from horses, and mules. But it was
very difficult to catch, and train a zebra. One day a zebra which was still very young, wondered
off into the village. Many people started to stare and whisper about how they would catch it.

The zebra became alarmed, and realized what they would try to do. So he frantically began to
run. People started to run inside to get a net to catch the zebra with. He ran and ran. Finally he
had an idea.

He found some black paint, and tipped it out of the pot that it was in. It
splattered out into little wavy lines.

So he rolled in it until his body was covered with black stripes. He did
this thinking that it would make him ugly.

The people of the village finally found him, and realized what he had
done to himself. They didn't think that he was pretty any more since he
had black blurry stripes all over him. So they let him go.
 Soon all zebras did that so that people would leave them alone.

Then gradually they didn't need too. Zebras started to be born like
that except they were beautiful.

The Legend of Makahiya

A myth submitted to the site by Zinnia Marniel Bendayon

Philippines

Long time ago, there was a couple in Barangay Masagana (Pampanga today) who
wanted a daughter. Their wish was granted and the wife gave birth to a baby girl.
They called her Maria. Maria was very beautiful but very shy that she wouldn't go out
from their house.

Weeks later, Spaniards came to their town. The Spaniards were very cruel that they
get everything they wanted. They rob houses and kill everyone who gets in their way
and who refuses to give what they wanted.

The couple was very frightened to lose their daughter so, they hid Maria in the bushes
so the Spaniards couldn't find her.

After the Spaniards left their town, the couple tried to look for Maria but they
couldn't find her even in the bushes where they hid her, instead they found a little
plant that is very sensitive that when you touch it, it would immediately close.

So they thought it was their daughter, Maria. They called the plant "Makahiya" that
means "touch me not," like their daughter who was very shy.