A number of young girls agreed together to go and have their teeth made. One of their companions, however, could not join them. Her mother was dead, and her stepmother kept her hard at work; she was a poor, stunted drudge—ill-clothed and usually dirty—so the trip was impossible for her.
When the other girls returned showing their beautiful new teeth, the girl said nothing but felt deeply saddened and continued her tasks. In the evening, when the cows came home, she lit the fire in the kraal to drive away the mosquitoes, helped milk the cows, served the evening meal, then slipped away unseen. Before she had gone far in the darkness she met a hyena, who asked, “Child, where are you going?” She answered, “I’m going where the other girls went. My father’s wife would not let me go, so I go alone.” The hyena said, “Go on, child of Imana,” and let her pass.
She walked on and met a lion, who asked the same question and answered similarly; the lion also bade her go in peace. As dawn broke she met Imana himself, who looked like a grand old chief with a kind face. He asked, “Little maid, where are you going?” She told him how her stepmother had kept her back and how she had come alone to seek the teeth. Imana said, “You shall have them.” He gave her new teeth, a new skin, and made her beautiful all over. He clothed her in fine cloth, put brass armlets and anklets and beads on her, and then, like a father, walked with her until she could point out her village.
“Remember,” Imana warned as he left her, “when you get home do not laugh or smile at anyone—neither at your father nor at your stepmother.” She agreed and returned.
At first her stepmother did not recognize her; when she did she cried out that the girl had stolen the beads and bangles at the chief’s place or driven off her father’s cows. The girl said nothing. Neighbors soon learned of her good fortune and, within three days, a respectable man asked for her hand. She married and went to her husband’s home, where she was kind and dutiful—but she never laughed, and everyone noticed it.
After some time a son was born. When he was old enough to herd calves, his grandmother—curious and jealous—told him to demand a smile from his mother, saying, “If she does not smile you will cry, and if she does not do so you will die!” He followed her instructions; the mother refused to smile, the child cried and then died. The family wrapped his body and left it in the bush, as was their custom. Heartbroken, the mother could not disobey Imana’s command.
Later a second son was born and the same cruel test was set by the grandmother. The mother again refused to smile; the child cried and died like his brother. The little bodies lay in the bush.
A daughter was born next. One evening the mother took the child to the place where the boys had been left and cried to Imana in great sorrow: “Imana, lord of Ruanda, I have never disobeyed you; will you not save this little one?” Imana appeared as kindly as before and said, “Come and see your children.” To her wonder, he had brought them back to life. “You may smile at them now,” he told her.
She smiled, and the children ran to her, crying, “Mother!” Imana touched her weary face and made her young again—tall, straight, and more beautiful than ever. He clothed her in fine cloth and beads, and sent servants with many cows for the boys. When they arrived home, the husband could scarcely believe his eyes; Imana asked for extra stools for guests and took his place of honor among them.
Then Imana spoke: “Now make your wife and children happy and live well together. You will soon see her smiling at you and them. It was I who forbade her to laugh. Some wicked people tried to make her laugh, and the children died. I have brought them back. As for your mother, she has done a wicked thing—I will burn her in her house. I leave you her belongings because you are innocent.” A great black cloud gathered over the grandmother’s hut; a blinding flash and a thunderous clap followed, and the hut was consumed. Imana appeared briefly again in blazing light and said, “Remember my words, and all shall be well with you,” then vanished.