The Nunda, Eater of People

THE NUNDA, EATER OF PEOPLE

Once upon a time there lived a sultan who loved his garden dearly,

and planted it with trees and flowers and fruits from all parts of

the world. He went to see them three times every day: first at seven

o’clock, when he got up, then at three, and lastly at half-past five.

There was no plant and no vegetable which escaped his eye, but he

lingered longest of all before his one date tree.

Now the sultan had seven sons. Six of them he was proud of, for they

were strong and manly, but the youngest he disliked, for he spent all

his time among the women of the house. The sultan had talked to him, and

he paid no heed; and he had beaten him, and he paid no heed; and he had

tied him up, and he paid no heed, till at last his father grew tired of

trying to make him change his ways, and let him alone.

Time passed, and one day the sultan, to his great joy, saw signs

of fruit on his date tree. And he told his vizir, ‘My date tree is

bearing;’ and he told the officers, ‘My date tree is bearing;’ and he

told the judges, ‘My date tree is bearing;’ and he told all the rich men

of the town.

He waited patiently for some days till the dates were nearly ripe, and

then he called his six sons, and said: ‘One of you must watch the date

tree till the dates are ripe, for if it is not watched the slaves will

steal them, and I shall not have any for another year.’

And the eldest son answered, ‘I will go, father,’ and he went.

The first thing the youth did was to summon his slaves, and bid them

beat drums all night under the date tree, for he feared to fall asleep.

So the slaves beat the drums, and the young man danced till four

o’clock, and then it grew so cold he could dance no longer, and one

of the slaves said to him: ‘It is getting light; the tree is safe; lie

down, master, and go to sleep.’

So he lay down and slept, and his slaves slept likewise.

A few minutes went by, and a bird flew down from a neighbouring thicket,

and ate all the dates, without leaving a single one. And when the tree

was stripped bare, the bird went as it had come. Soon after, one of the

slaves woke up and looked for the dates, but there were no dates to see.

Then he ran to the young man and shook him, saying:

‘Your father set you to watch the tree, and you have not watched, and

the dates have all been eaten by a bird.’

The lad jumped up and ran to the tree to see for himself, but there was

not a date anywhere. And he cried aloud, ‘What am I to say to my father?

Shall I tell him that the dates have been stolen, or that a great rain

fell and a great storm blew? But he will send me to gather them up and

bring them to him, and there are none to bring! Shall I tell him that

Bedouins drove me away, and when I returned there were no dates? And he

will answer, “You had slaves, did they not fight with the Bedouins?” It

is the truth that will be best, and that will I tell him.’

Then he went straight to his father, and found him sitting in his

verandah with his five sons round him; and the lad bowed his head.

‘Give me the news from the garden,’ said the sultan.

And the youth answered, ‘The dates have all been eaten by some bird:

there is not one left.’

The sultan was silent for a moment: then he asked, ‘Where were you when

the bird came?’

The lad answered: ‘I watched the date tree till the cocks were crowing

and it was getting light; then I lay down for a little, and I slept.

When I woke a slave was standing over me, and he said, “There is not

one date left on the tree!” And I went to the date tree, and saw it was

true; and that is what I have to tell you.’

And the sultan replied, ‘A son like you is only good for eating and

sleeping. I have no use for you. Go your way, and when my date tree

bears again, I will send another son; perhaps he will watch better.’

So he waited many months, till the tree was covered with more dates than

any tree had ever borne before. When they were near ripening he sent one

of his sons to the garden: saying, ‘My son, I am longing to taste those

dates: go and watch over them, for to-day’s sun will bring them to

perfection.’

And the lad answered: ‘My father, I am going now, and to-morrow, when

the sun has passed the hour of seven, bid a slave come and gather the

dates.’

‘Good,’ said the sultan.

The youth went to the tree, and lay down and slept. And about midnight

he arose to look at the tree, and the dates were all there--beautiful

dates, swinging in bunches.

‘Ah, my father will have a feast, indeed,’ thought he. ‘What a fool my

brother was not to take more heed! Now he is in disgrace, and we know

him no more. Well, I will watch till the bird comes. I should like to

see what manner of bird it is.’

And he sat and read till the cocks crew and it grew light, and the dates

were still on the tree.

‘Oh my father will have his dates; they are all safe now,’ he thought

to himself. ‘I will make myself comfortable against this tree,’ and he

leaned against the trunk, and sleep came on him, and the bird flew down

and ate all the dates.

When the sun rose, the head-man came and looked for the dates, and there

were no dates. And he woke the young man, and said to him, ‘Look at the

tree.’

And the young man looked, and there were no dates. And his ears were

stopped, and his legs trembled, and his tongue grew heavy at the thought

of the sultan. His slave became frightened as he looked at him, and

asked, ‘My master, what is it?’

He answered, ‘I have no pain anywhere, but I am ill everywhere. My whole

body is well, and my whole body is sick I fear my father, for did I not

say to him, “To-morrow at seven you shall taste the dates”? And he

will drive me away, as he drove away my brother! I will go away myself,

before he sends me.’

Then he got up and took a road that led straight past the palace, but

he had not walked many steps before he met a man carrying a large silver

dish, covered with a white cloth to cover the dates.

And the young man said, ‘The dates are not ripe yet; you must return

to-morrow.’

And the slave went with him to the palace, where the sultan was sitting

with his four sons.

‘Good greeting, master!’ said the youth.

And the sultan answered, ‘Have you seen the man I sent?’

‘I have, master; but the dates are not yet ripe.’

But the sultan did not believe his words, and said; ‘This second year I

have eaten no dates, because of my sons. Go your ways, you are my son no

longer!’

And the sultan looked at the four sons that were left him, and promised

rich gifts to whichever of them would bring him the dates from the tree.

But year by year passed, and he never got them. One son tried to keep

himself awake with playing cards; another mounted a horse and rode round

and round the tree, while the two others, whom their father as a last

hope sent together, lit bonfires. But whatever they did, the result was

always the same. Towards dawn they fell asleep, and the bird ate the

dates on the tree.

The sixth year had come, and the dates on the tree were thicker than

ever. And the head-man went to the palace and told the sultan what he

had seen. But the sultan only shook his head, and said sadly, ‘What

is that to me? I have had seven sons, yet for five years a bird has

devoured my dates; and this year it will be the same as ever.’

Now the youngest son was sitting in the kitchen, as was his custom, when

he heard his father say those words. And he rose up, and went to his

father, and knelt before him. ‘Father, this year you shall eat dates,’

cried he. ‘And on the tree are five great bunches, and each bunch I will

give to a separate nation, for the nations in the town are five. This

time, I will watch the date tree myself.’ But his father and his mother

laughed heartily, and thought his words idle talk.

One day, news was brought to the sultan that the dates were ripe, and he

ordered one of his men to go and watch the tree. His son, who happened

to be standing by, heard the order, and he said:

‘How is it that you have bidden a man to watch the tree, when I, your

son, am left?’

And his father answered, ‘Ah, six were of no use, and where they failed,

will you succeed?’

But the boy replied: ‘Have patience to-day, and let me go, and to-morrow

you shall see whether I bring you dates or not.’

‘Let the child go, Master,’ said his wife; ‘perhaps we shall eat the

dates--or perhaps we shall not--but let him go.’

And the sultan answered: ‘I do not refuse to let him go, but my heart

distrusts him. His brothers all promised fair, and what did they do?’

But the boy entreated, saying, ‘Father, if you and I and mother be alive

to-morrow, you shall eat the dates.’

‘Go then,’ said his father.

When the boy reached the garden, he told the slaves to leave him, and

to return home themselves and sleep. When he was alone, he laid himself

down and slept fast till one o’clock, when he arose, and sat opposite

the date tree. Then he took some Indian corn out of one fold of his

dress, and some sandy grit out of another.

And he chewed the corn till he felt he was growing sleepy, and then

he put some grit into his mouth, and that kept him awake till the bird

came.

It looked about at first without seeing him, and whispering to itself,

‘There is no one here,’ fluttered lightly on to the tree and stretched

out his beak for the dates. Then the boy stole softly up, and caught it

by the wing.

The bird turned and flew quickly away, but the boy never let go, not

even when they soared high into the air.

‘Son of Adam,’ the bird said when the tops of the mountains looked small

below them, ‘if you fall, you will be dead long before you reach the

ground, so go your way, and let me go mine.’

But the boy answered, ‘Wherever you go, I will go with you. You cannot

get rid of me.’

‘I did not eat your dates,’ persisted the bird, ‘and the day is dawning.

Leave me to go my way.’

But again the boy answered him: ‘My six brothers are hateful to my

father because you came and stole the dates, and to-day my father shall

see you, and my brothers shall see you, and all the people of the town,

great and small, shall see you. And my father’s heart will rejoice.’

‘Well, if you will not leave me, I will throw you off,’ said the bird.

So it flew up higher still--so high that the earth shone like one of the

other stars.

‘How much of you will be left if you fall from here?’ asked the bird.

‘If I die, I die,’ said the boy, ‘but I will not leave you.’

And the bird saw it was no use talking, and went down to the earth

again.

‘Here you are at home, so let me go my way,’ it begged once more; ‘or at

least make a covenant with me.’

‘What covenant?’ said the boy.

‘Save me from the sun,’ replied the bird, ‘and I will save you from

rain.’

‘How can you do that, and how can I tell if I can trust you?’

‘Pull a feather from my tail, and put it in the fire, and if you want me

I will come to you, wherever I am.’

And the boy answered, ‘Well, I agree; go your way.’

‘Farewell, my friend. When you call me, if it is from the depths of the

sea, I will come.’

The lad watched the bird out of sight; then he went straight to the date

tree. And when he saw the dates his heart was glad, and his body felt

stronger and his eyes brighter than before. And he laughed out loud with

joy, and said to himself, ‘This is MY luck, mine, Sit-in-the-kitchen!

Farewell, date tree, I am going to lie down. What ate you will eat you

no more.’

The sun was high in the sky before the head-man, whose business it was,

came to look at the date tree, expecting to find it stripped of all

its fruit, but when he saw the dates so thick that they almost hid the

leaves he ran back to his house, and beat a big drum till everybody came

running, and even the little children wanted to know what had happened.

‘What is it? What is it, head-man?’ cried they.

‘Ah, it is not a son that the master has, but a lion! This day

Sit-in-the-kitchen has uncovered his face before his father!’

‘But how, head-man?’

‘To day the people may eat the dates.’

‘Is it true, head-man?’

‘Oh yes, it is true, but let him sleep till each man has brought forth

a present. He who has fowls, let him take fowls; he who has a goat, let

him take a goat; he who has rice, let him take rice.’ And the people did

as he had said.

Then they took the drum, and went to the tree where the boy lay

sleeping.

And they picked him up, and carried him away, with horns and clarionets

and drums, with clappings of hands and shrieks of joy, straight to his

father’s house.

When his father heard the noise and saw the baskets made of green

leaves, brimming over with dates, and his son borne high on the necks of

slaves, his heart leaped, and he said to himself ‘To-day at last I shall

eat dates.’ And he called his wife to see what her son had done, and

ordered his soldiers to take the boy and bring him to his father.

‘What news, my son?’ said he.

‘News? I have no news, except that if you will open your mouth you shall

see what dates taste like.’ And he plucked a date, and put it into his

father’s mouth.

‘Ah! You are indeed my son,’ cried the sultan. ‘You do not take after

those fools, those good-for-nothings. But, tell me, what did you do with

the bird, for it was you, and you only who watched for it?’

‘Yes, it was I who watched for it and who saw it. And it will not come

again, neither for its life, nor for your life, nor for the lives of

your children.’

‘Oh, once I had six sons, and now I have only one. It is you, whom I

called a fool, who have given me the dates: as for the others, I want

none of them.’

But his wife rose up and went to him, and said, ‘Master, do not, I pray

you, reject them,’ and she entreated long, till the sultan granted her

prayer, for she loved the six elder ones more than her last one.

So they all lived quietly at home, till the sultan’s cat went and caught

a calf. And the owner of the calf went and told the sultan, but he

answered, ‘The cat is mine, and the calf mine,’ and the man dared not

complain further.

Two days after, the cat caught a cow, and the sultan was told, ‘Master,

the cat has caught a cow,’ but he only said, ‘It was my cow and my cat.’

And the cat waited a few days, and then it caught a donkey, and they

told the sultan, ‘Master, the cat has caught a donkey,’ and he said,

‘My cat and my donkey.’ Next it was a horse, and after that a camel, and

when the sultan was told he said, ‘You don’t like this cat, and want me

to kill it. And I shall not kill it. Let it eat the camel: let it even

eat a man.’

And it waited till the next day, and caught some one’s child. And the

sultan was told, ‘The cat has caught a child.’ And he said, ‘The cat is

mine and the child mine.’ Then it caught a grown-up man.

After that the cat left the town and took up its abode in a thicket near

the road. So if any one passed, going for water, it devoured him. If it

saw a cow going to feed, it devoured him. If it saw a goat, it devoured

him. Whatever went along that road the cat caught and ate.

Then the people went to the sultan in a body, and told him of all the

misdeeds of that cat. But he answered as before, ‘The cat is mine and

the people are mine.’ And no man dared kill the cat, which grew bolder

and bolder, and at last came into the town to look for its prey.

One day, the sultan said to his six sons, ‘I am going into the country,

to see how the wheat is growing, and you shall come with me.’ They went

on merrily along the road, till they came to a thicket, when out sprang

the cat, and killed three of the sons.

‘The cat! The cat!’ shrieked the soldiers who were with him. And this

time the sultan said:

‘Seek for it and kill it. It is no longer a cat, but a demon!’

And the soldiers answered him, ‘Did we not tell you, master, what the

cat was doing, and did you not say, “My cat and my people”?’

And he answered: ‘True, I said it.’

Now the youngest son had not gone with the rest, but had stayed at home

with his mother; and when he heard that his brothers had been killed

by the cat he said, ‘Let me go, that it may slay me also.’ His mother

entreated him not to leave her, but he would not listen, and he took his

sword and a spear and some rice cakes, and went after the cat, which by

this time had run of to a great distance.

The lad spent many days hunting the cat, which now bore the name of ‘The

Nunda, eater of people,’ but though he killed many wild animals he saw

no trace of the enemy he was hunting for. There was no beast, however

fierce, that he was afraid of, till at last his father and mother begged

him to give up the chase after the Nunda.

But he answered: ‘What I have said, I cannot take back. If I am to die,

then I die, but every day I must go and seek for the Nunda.’

And again his father offered him what he would, even the crown itself,

but the boy would hear nothing, and went on his way.

Many times his slaves came and told him, ‘We have seen footprints, and

to-day we shall behold the Nunda.’ But the footprints never turned out

to be those of the Nunda. They wandered far through deserts and through

forests, and at length came to the foot of a great hill. And something

in the boy’s soul whispered that here was the end of all their seeking,

and to-day they would find the Nunda.

But before they began to climb the mountain the boy ordered his slaves

to cook some rice, and they rubbed the stick to make a fire, and when

the fire was kindled they cooked the rice and ate it. Then they began

their climb.

Suddenly, when they had almost reached the top, a slave who was on in

front cried:

‘Master! Master!’ And the boy pushed on to where the slave stood, and

the slave said:

‘Cast your eyes down to the foot of the mountain.’ And the boy looked,

and his soul told him it was the Nunda.

And he crept down with his spear in his hand, and then he stopped and

gazed below him.

‘This MUST be the real Nunda,’ thought he. ‘My mother told me its ears

were small, and this one’s are small. She told me it was broad and not

long, and this is broad and not long. She told me it had spots like a

civet-cat, and this has spots like a civet-cat.’

Then he left the Nunda lying asleep at the foot of the mountain, and

went back to his slaves.

‘We will feast to-day,’ he said; ‘make cakes of batter, and bring

water,’ and they ate and drank. And when they had finished he bade them

hide the rest of the food in the thicket, that if they slew the Nunda

they might return and eat and sleep before going back to the town. And

the slaves did as he bade them.

It was now afternoon, and the lad said: ‘It is time we went after the

Nunda.’ And they went till they reached the bottom and came to a great

forest which lay between them and the Nunda.

Here the lad stopped, and ordered every slave that wore two cloths to

cast one away and tuck up the other between his legs. ‘For,’ said he,

‘the wood is not a little one. Perhaps we may be caught by the thorns,

or perhaps we may have to run before the Nunda, and the cloth might bind

our legs, and cause us to fall before it.’

And they answered, ‘Good, master,’ and did as he bade them. Then they

crawled on their hands and knees to where the Nunda lay asleep.

Noiselessly they crept along till they were quite close to it; then, at

a sign from the boy, they threw their spears. The Nunda did not stir:

the spears had done their work, but a great fear seized them all, and

they ran away and climbed the mountain.

The sun was setting when they reached the top, and glad they were to

take out the fruit and the cakes and the water which they had hidden

away, and sit down and rest themselves. And after they had eaten and

were filled, they lay down and slept till morning.

When the dawn broke they rose up and cooked more rice, and drank more

water. After that they walked all round the back of the mountain to the

place where they had left the Nunda, and they saw it stretched out where

they had found it, stiff and dead. And they took it up and carried it

back to the town, singing as they went, ‘He has killed the Nunda, the

eater of people.’

And when his father heard the news, and that his son was come, and was

bringing the Nunda with him, he felt that the man did not dwell on the

earth whose joy was greater than his. And the people bowed down to the

boy and gave him presents, and loved him, because he had delivered them

from the bondage of fear, and had slain the Nunda.

(Adapted from Swahili Tales.)