This is an interesting and unusual story. It starts off as something we feel familiar with, but the ending is a real surprise. we often talk about how our own folk tales have been sweetened for the Nursery since the Brother’s Grimm – but this sort of thing makes me wonder if the Grimm’s didn’t make the steories they heard a little more palatable for 19C tastes as well …

Unlike many of the stories told to me by street children, this one has something at the end that was almost always there with stories told to me by people in families – the lesson at the end. “What can we learn from this?” was a phrase I heard so often, and then the story would be plundered for lessons.  I think people often tried to find as many lessons in the story as they possibly could – I could imagine a competition for who could find the most at storytime. Perhaps that’s why many of them read so much like fables.

Many thanks to Henoch, who passed this story on to me.

A boy and his mother were walking in the woods, collecting food to sell in the market, when they were attacked by a lions. The boy bravely fought the lion and managed to scare it away, but as he did so another lion came from behind and seized his mother in its jaws. He turned and ran at it, and scarred that one away too – but it was too late. His mother was already dead.

Sadly, he took her body away and buried her. Now he had nothing in the world except his own self.

After the funeral, he went to visit her grave.  “Mother,” he said. “Without you I have nothing. I can’t even get any money from working in the woods any more because I don’t have your skills.”

A voice from the grave spoke to him.

“In the desert there is a dead tree. You must find that tree and dig in the sand underneath. You will find buried under the sand some cups, a great many of them, some very fine and grand, some very poor. But one cup and one cup only will have a mosquito flying around it. You must take that cup and bring it home. That will help you on your way in life.”

The boy knew that tree; he and his mother used to pass by it sometimes on their way to the city to sell the berries and grubs they collected in the wood. He went straight there and dug under the tree, deeper and deeper, until at last he began to uncover the cups.  He dusted the sand off them with his hands, and at once, from one of the cups, a tiny little insect flew; the mosquito his mother had told him about. It flew round and round the cup it had been buried with, an old cup, chipped and dirty and made out of cheap pottery.

The boy was disappointed. He wondered why on earth he had to take such a cheap cup when there were so many other better cups about. He would get hardly any money for that one – he wasn’t even sure he wanted to drink out of it himself, with that mosquito buzzing around it all the time. He told himself that surely his mother must have made a mistake – dead people can get it wrong too.  So he took another cup instead, a big, fine, two handled cup that he was sure he could sell for a lot of money.

He picked the cup up – but inside it, something was crawling. With a shout of surprise he dropped it, and as he watched, a small tawny creature crawled out. As it came out of the cup it grew bigger, and bigger and bigger, until before him stood a ferocious lion. The boy jumped away adndclimbed up to the top of the dead tree just in time to save his life.  The lion spent hours prowling around the bottom of the tree before it got tired of waiting for him and left.

The boy climbed down the tree and ran home as fast as he could. That night, his mother’s ghost appeared to him in a dream.

“Stupid boy!  What did I tell you? You never listed while I was alive and now you don’t listen while I am dead; but this time you must listen. Go back and this time take the cup with the mosquito, like I said!”

The ghost disappeared. The next day, very frightened and even more foolish, the boy went back to the dead tree, and this time he did as he was told, and took the cracked dirty cup with the mosquito buzzing around.  That mosquito followed him all the way home, until he was fed up with it buzzing round; but he didn’t dare squash it. Back at home he looked at the cup – and saw that it was full of money. The cup wasn’t very big, but there was enough money in there for the boy to buy himself some pigs. He looked after his pigs carefully, breed them and sold them on and increased his herd until at last, after a number of years, he became rich.

Nw that he had his fortune, the boy began to think about other things in life. He went back to his mother’s grave and told her he wanted to find himself a wife. At once, the ghost of his mother was by his side, looking sadly at him.
“In Kinshasa there is a good wife, and I shall help you find her. Go home; I will come to you in a dream and tell you what to do.”

The boy, a young man now, went home and did as his mother told him. And just as she had said, she came to him in a dream, looking beautiful and young, just as he remembered her in life.

Go to Kinshasa, go to the river and walk upstream. As you leave the city behind you will come to place on the river where there are coffins floating, many coffins, some rich, some poor. If you see a grand coffin, do not take it; but if you see one with a mosquito flying around it, you must take that one. Inside, you will find your wife.”

This was even more scary than the dead tree; and the boy was not so sure about finding a wife inside a coffin. But his mother had looked after him when he was a boy, and when he was a man so perhaps she would look after just as well now that he was ready to marry.  He went to Kinshasa and walked upstream, and soon he came to the place his mother had told him about. There were dozens of coffins floating on the water, jostling about and rattling together. The boy was terrified and wanted to run away, but he heard his mother’s ghost whisper in his ear; “Be strong.” So he tightened up his courage, and went up to the coffins to look among them for the mosque.

Some of them were very grand; but this time the boy had learn his lesson, and he searched carefully until he had found the one with a mosquito bussing around it. He dragged that coffin, a very poor one, out of the water.  On the shore, he broke the coffin open – and out stepped a beautiful young woman, who at once threw her arms around him and vowed to be his forever, because he had rescued her

Well, the young man was pretty worried about all this. She was beautiful all right, but she came out of a coffin. He asked her how she got there, but she shook her head and wouldn’t say. But his mother had looked after him all his life, even from beyond the grave, so he took her home and looked after her.  He soon found out that the beautiful lady knew everything about him – what he liked and what he didn’t like, what sort of food he enjoyed, what made him laugh, what made him happy. He couldn’t imagine getting anyone better for himself. Soon, her thanking his mother everyday for finding such a wife for him, and soon enough he asked her to marry him.

The time for the ceremony came. Dressed so fine, the beautiful girl and he went to the church; but when they arrive there, she would not go inside.

“I want to be married outside,” she said. “What is wrong with that?”

The priest was not happy about it, but he agreed and went ahead with the ceremony; but something dreadful happened when he began to pray. The bride began to writhe and moan. The more he prayed, the louder her cries became. The young man begged the priest to stop, but the priest did not stop. If she couldn’t bear to hear a prayer, what did that mean? On he went, and by the time he arched the Amen, the beautiful girl drooped to the floor – stone dead. Now that she was dead she began to change back to her own shape. Her beautiful face grew old and then decayed, her body withered and her flesh shrank away from her bones, until all that was left was just bones and clothes.  But the boy knew those clothes – they were the clothes his mother had been buried in.

His mother had loved him dearly, and helped him in his life after her death; but she could not face him marrying, because she thought that another woman would mistreat her son.

What can we learn from this story?  Many things. That a mother’s love is good for some things but not others;  that a mother can love her son but still be bad for him; that she can overstep her place in her children’s lives.  We learn that the dead are not always as sensible as the living; and of course, that a mother will love her children even beyond the grave.

This is a very short story about a boy called Wind. It’s a joke – the kids laughed like drains when Aron told me this one. Anyone who’s had to steal, lie or cheat to get the often very basic things they things they need in life will appreciate Wind’s mother and her sense of humour.

Wind

Once there was boy called Wind. At school one day, they asked for money to pay the fees.

Wind went home and told his mother. She said, “No problem. This is what we’ll do.  You have to run as fast as you can to the money exchange. Since you’re Wind it’ll be easy for you to steal some money and then run quickly away.  As you go, shout; ‘Everyone should protect children!” at the top of your voice.

So he did it. And it worked!

Well done, Wind. It’s a pity someone doesn’t find a way of getting money off the people who deal in currency in this country to pay a few school fees. I’d laugh as well. Of course, the people who deal in money in Wind’s world are only tiny weenie little piggies compared to the monster porkers who stuff their faces daily on the homes, schools, libraries, hospitals etc in our own neck of the woods.

Thanks for the story, Aron – I hope someone pays for your school fees without you having to steal them. Hey – maybe who ever is reading this can help. So come on, readers – Aron gave us something from his country; maybe you can help him out with something from yours. A little money towards the school fees of Aron and other kids like him would be a nice start …

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This is the second story told to me by the children of the  Santa Famillie open center in Kinshasa. We have Honore to thank for this one – so thank you, Honore. I hope you’ve had a chance to get back with your family now and that your life on the streets is at an end.

The Bag of Mosquitoes

One Sunday mooring, a mother went to work in the fields. She did this despite the fact that Sunday is a day of rest, because she was so poor, and had a large family, and because her hungry children were more important to her than God. She had six children to bring up all on her own, as her husband had died a few months before. The five eldest stayed behind at home – the older ones could look after the younger ones perfectly well – but she took the new baby with her, because she felt that he still needed a mother’s love and attention

She worked all day with the baby tied to her back until it was time to eat. She went to get some shelter under the trees and bushes that grew all around, but as she ducked under some low branches, one of them caught the baby and knocked it off her back. By the time she picked it up, it was already too late. The baby was dead.

The Mother was heartbroken. For a while, all she could do was weep. When she had recovered a little, she picked up the still little body and carried it back to the village, to tell everyone what had happened and to prepare for the funeral.

Now, it so happened that the headman of her village was known for his special powers. In fact, he was a fetish man, who knew all about the spirits of the forest. She decided to go to him and ask for help. She took the body of her dead son along to him, told him what had happened.

“There’s nothing I can do for you or your baby, unless you do exactly as I say,” he told her. “Now listen. You must go about your life in the ordinary way – but keep your eyes out and your ears sharp for the things I tell you about.
“If you see some clothes standing in front of you, just like a man but with nothing inside them, don’t touch them, don’t talk to them. Don’t take any notice of them at all.
“It you see a bag full of diamonds coming towards you, don’t take any notice of that either. Just leave it. Pretend it doesn’t even exist.
“But if you see a bag of mosquitoes, you must pick up that bag and take it home here in the village with you and open it up. Only if you do this, is there any chance that you will get back your lost baby.”

The woman was scared when she hear this kind of talk. Whoever heard of clothes standing up on their own? Or bags of diamonds that wandered about?  But she loved her little baby boy and wanted him back desperately, so she resolved to do exactly as the head of the village had told her.

Over the next few days she kept her eyes and ears open, hoping that a miracle would happen. But nothing did. The funeral took place as usual, the Mother sadly buried her baby and tried to get on with her life.

A few days later, as she was working in the gardens, she heard someone coming through the forest towards her. She looked up and saw a shape standing in the shadows, watching her.
“Who’s there?” she called, but there was no answer. She went closer and saw to her horror that it was just as the headman said – a set of clothes stood there in the shadows, watching her work. It looked exactly as if there was a man inside them – but they were empty of any living thing. What was inside those clothes, she could only guess. Some sort of spirit, perhaps – but what sort of spirit, good or bad, she had no idea. All she wanted to do was run for her life – but she remembered what the headman had told her, to pretend it didn’t exist if she wanted to get her baby back.  So, with a shudder, she turned round and walked back to the patch she was working on, and got on with her weeding. Behind her, she could hear the clothes following behind her. It made her hair stand on end!

As she worked, the clothes just stood there, always facing towards her, just as if someone was watching her. Sometimes they stepped out of the shadows as if to get a better look at her, sometimes they hid deeper among the trees. When she moved from one patch to another the clothes followed her, and resumed their post – always watching, watching, watching.

Soon some other women came to join her at work. The Mother, who was watching the clothes out of the corner of her eye the whole time, didn’t dare ask them if they could see them too.  But no one said anything, so she knew that they were only there for her.

The empty clothes stood there all day watching her. When she left, the clothes followed her back home, sometimes walking by her side, sometimes a little in front. Again, no one else seemed to be able to see them, but she didn’t dare say anything about it, in case she made them angry or lost her chance to get her baby back. When she ate her evening meal, the clothes sat on the floor next to her. She thought about offering them some food, but she remembered the headman’s words and didn’t even flinch when they shuffled up closer to her. When she lay down to sleep, the clothes sat up, cross-legged on the floor, facing right towards her; and when she woke up in the mooring, there they still were, leaning against a wall, watching her as if she as the most fascinating thing in the world.

She prepared breakfast for herself and her children, who all wanted to know why she was so quiet and scared looking. Then she went to work in the fields as usual. The clothes walked behind her, but by she time she arrived, they had gone. She looked all around her and in among the bushes, but there was no sign of them.

The Mother was so relived – despite her calm face she had been in terror at the whole time. She left at once and went straight to the river to wash herself and to try to get that terrible clammy, dirty feeling of fear off her skin.

On the way back, she kept her ears and her eyes sharp, and sure enough, as she got close to the river she saw a glint in the weeds at the side of the path. Her heart beat fast, because she already knew what it was. She took no notice, though and walked on. As she got closer there was a rattle, and the bag of diamonds rolled out of the bushes and stood there in the path in front of her.  The top of the bag was slightly open and she could se the sunlight shining on the diamonds inside it – huge, fat diamonds, as big as your thumb, sparking and glinting in the sunshine. That Mother couldn’t help thinking how much better life  would be for her and her children if she only had those diamonds. She had the five children at home, all of them hungry, all of them with no decent clothes or shoes. But she took no notice and just walked past. even when the bag of diamonds started to roll towards, rattling and clinking temptingly, she took no notice – she just stepped over it, as if it was clod of earth in the road.  Behind her called out to her ..
“Woman! I am yours. Pick me up, sell me, spend me.”  It made her skin crawl, but she didn’t reply. She just carried on her way

By the time she got to the river, the bag of diamonds had gone. She washed herself, and let herself have a little cry, because what she was doing was scary and very hard. Then she got out of the water to dry herself, and as she stood there, wringing out her hair and shaking her arms to get he water off, she heard a great, loud whining buzzing noise.

There it was! – on the bank next to her clothes. A bag of mosquitos.

The bag was totally surrounded by mosquitos. There must have been thousands – no, millions – of hungry, buzzing mosquitos. She’d never seen so many. You could have grabbed them by the handful and baked them in a pie, there were that many.

The woman got close and tried to pick the bag up, and as soon as she got near, the mosquitos  flew at her and started sucking up her blood as fast as they could. She tried to take no notice, and pushed her way through the storm of insects.   When she did finally manage to pick it up, the bag was plump and heavy with a billion mosquitos, and of course she disturbed them more than ever by carrying them. Out they flew, more and more and more of them,  and pretty soon she was covered from head to foot, over her clothes and under her clothes and even through her clothes, with greedy, whining, bloodsucking mosquitos, sucking and sucking at her blood, until she was certain she had barely a drop left.

But she held tight to the bag and hurried back homes. What a sight she made! There were so many on her and buzzing around she could hardly see where she was going, and all anyone could see of her was a cloud of mosquitos, whinging and buzzing away as loud as an engine, staggering along the street, banging into thing and stumbling and falling over. People screamed and yelled at her to go away. She kept calling out her name, but none of them believed it was really her. They thought she it some kind of mosquito spirit, and to make things even worse, started to throw sticks and stones at her to try and chase her away.

Despite all this the woman forced her way back to her house and staggered inside. When her five children saw that gigantic hoard of mosquitos coming in the door, they all jumped up and ran out, but she took no notice.  She sat down with the bag between her feet, opened it up – and at once all the mosquitos vanished. Instead, lying there in the bag, was her own baby, fat and smiling, with his arms held out to her, and a smile on his face, gurgling with happiness at being back in the world – as full of life as he had ever been before.

With a cry of joy she ran out into the village holding the baby high in the air.
“Look everyone! I ignored the clothes and I left the diamonds, and I suffered the mosquitos – and now I have my own pride and joy back in my arms!”

There was a great deal of celebrating in that house, and in the whole village – although it did take that mother a long time to recover from all those mosquito bites. Of course, the story went right around the village and far beyond, and it wasn’t long before a neighbour of hers heard all about what had had happened. This Mother too had a little baby son, about as old as the first Mother’s, and she decided that there was a chance here for her to help herself and her family.

What she did was this; she went into the fields to work with her baby tied to her back, and while no one was looking, she lifted the baby up held it high up over her head …
“Now, baby, this won’t be very nice, but it’ll all over quickly. You’ll be back with us very soon, and when you do, we’ll all be rich” she said.

Then she dropped her baby down to the groud . When she bet down to pick it up, the baby was already dead.

Just like the first woman, she went to headman and told him that her baby had fallen off her back and died. The headman looked at her sadly, and sighed; then he told her exactly the same thing he had said to the first woman – that she must ignore  the standing clothes if she saw them; she must ignore the bag of diamonds; and she must only pick up the bag of mosquitos.

“Soon I shall be rich, and me and family will never want again,” the woman thought.

Only a few days after the baby’s funeral, she was working in the fields, and she heard a noise in the buses. She looked up and there, sure enough was a set of clothes standing upright with no one in them. It just stood here as if it was looking at her. It made her hair stand on end to see it, but she remembered what the headman had said, and what her neighbour had done. She didn’t flinch or run away, she just carried on on calmly working as if nothing had happened. Just as before, the clothes stood by her all day, followed her home, sat by her as she ate, watched her as she slept. And the following morning, when she got to the fields, it was gone.

“Great,” she thought. “Now for the diamonds!”

She went straight off to the river to bathe – and sure enough, as she walked along, there was a glint in the path ahead, and she got close a huge bag of enormous diamonds rolled out into the road.

Well, this Mother didn’t need anyone to tell her to take those diamonds – she was on them like a cat on a mouse. She grabbed the bag and ran off into the bushes to open it up and stuff those diamonds into her headscarf. But when she unwrapped the bag, there were no diamonds inside – there was only her baby, still and cold and stiff and dead, with the earth of the grave still on him.

With a wail the woman ran out of the bushes, cradling the baby in her arms, all the way back to the village where she begged the headman to help her.

“There is only one chance for this kind of magic,” the headman said. “You should have left the bag of diamonds alone, as I told her. Now you baby is gone for ever.”

The woman crept home, heartbroken. And that was not the end of her troubles. She had clearly offended someone – or something – because from that day on, her  family fell ill and died, one after the other, until last she was left alone, an unhappy old woman, with no one to call her own.

Many thanks to Honore for this great tale – homage to a mother’s love from a child of the streets.

Honore has done her part, now perhaps you’d be willingto help save the Children help girls like her. Paying her a few pounds for her story can helps change lives. Donate now at Save the Children