Story, story! Let it go, let it come!
Once, in the days of old, there lived a certain old woman who was a witch. She had nine daughters, and she took them far into the deep bush to live apart from men. Now, in a nearby village, there were nine young men who set out on a journey. They came upon the witch's house, and the nine daughters welcomed them. Each girl brought water to a youth, offering him a drink.
But the youngest of the boys, the baby of the family, refused the water from the youngest maid. When night fell, the maidens prepared food for their guests. All the young men ate, save for the baby of the family. When the youngest maid brought him a bowl, he pushed it away.
The others asked, "Why do you refuse? We all eat, yet you alone starve?"
The baby of the family replied, "If young men come to the house of maidens and eat their food, they become worthless. They lose their strength."
The others agreed, saying, "That is the truth."
When sleep took the house, each maiden prepared a couch for her guest. But the baby of the family did not sleep. He waited until the breathing of the house was deep and heavy. Then, he rose silently. He unfastened the waist-cloths of the sleeping boys and tied them upon the maidens. He took the cloaks from the men and draped them over the girls. He swapped the kerchiefs and the dresses, until the boys looked like maidens and the maidens looked like boys. Then he lay down and closed his eyes.
A short time passed before the old witch returned. She crept into the dark room and felt about with her hands. She felt for the waist-cloths of the men, for that was her sign. Finding those who wore them, she cut their throats in the darkness. She killed all nine of her own daughters, believing them to be the young men. Satisfied, she returned to her mat and slept.
But the baby of the family had watched it all. As soon as the witch slept, he rose. He dug a hole from the sleeping quarters leading all the way to his own mother's house. He woke his companions, and they crawled through the earth like snakes, leaving the dead daughters behind.
At dawn, the witch came to claim her meat. She found her own daughters lying with their throats cut. In her vexation, she gnawed upon her own hand until it bled. "I shall be revenged," she swore.
The next day, she traveled to the town of the young men. She transformed herself into a magaria tree, lush and inviting. Fifteen boys, seeing the shade, climbed up to sit in her branches. Suddenly, the tree tore itself from the earth! The witch carried the boys away to her house in the bush. Their parents lamented and wept.
But the baby of the family said, "Dry your tears. I shall bring your children home."
He went into the bush and found the witch's cow. He used his magic to shrink himself and entered the belly of the cow. When the cow returned home, it appeared to be with calf. The witch spoke to the beast, "If you give birth to a son, I shall cut your throat. If you give birth to a daughter, I shall spare you."
In time, the cow gave birth to a daughter. But truly, it was the baby of the family, disguised as a calf.
Days passed. Whenever the witch washed her calabashes and set them in the sun to dry, the calf would jump and smash them to pieces. The witch flew into a rage. She commanded the captive boys, "Catch this beast and cut its throat!"
The boys chased the calf. It ran swiftly, leading them all the way back to their own town. Once inside the safety of the gates, the calf shed its skin and became the baby of the family once more. "Let each father catch his son!" he cried. And so, the families were reunited.
But the witch said, "I will catch him again."
She transformed into a Fulani woman carrying a gourd of milk. She entered the town, crying, "Who will look into my milk?" One of the baby of the family's elder brothers looked into the gourd, and his eyes fell out like ripe fruit. The witch turned into a whirlwind and swept the boy away.
When the baby of the family returned and found his brother missing, he asked, "Where is he?"
They said, "A Fulani woman took his eyes and flew away with him."
"I shall get them back," the baby of the family declared. He donned a girl's dress and a head kerchief, disguising himself as a maiden, and went to the witch's house.
The witch saw him and said, "Welcome, welcome! You are my youngest daughter returned."
The baby of the family began to weep. "Bad boys came and sinned against me. They killed my elder sisters."
The witch comforted him, saying, "Cease crying, my child. We shall be revenged. See, I have brought the eyes of the eldest boy."
"Give them to me, Mother," the baby of the family said. "Let me play with the meat of his eyes."
The witch, fooled by the disguise, handed over the eyes. He played with them until the witch said, "Watch the house while I go to the stream."
As soon as her back was turned, the baby of the family ran. He returned the eyes to his brother and came back to the witch's house. When the witch returned, she asked, "Where is my youngest child?"
She called for the eyes to cook, but the real youngest daughter said, "You gave me no eyes."
Then the witch knew. "La Ila! It was the baby of their family. He deceived me. But I shall catch him."
Another day, while hunting in the bush, the baby of the family met the witch. She captured him and threw him into a deep pit, covering it with branches. She left her own youngest daughter to guard the hole while she went to fetch water.
The witch's daughter peered into the pit. "Oh, baby of the family, what are you eating?"
"Stretch out your hand," he said, "and I will give you some."
She reached down. He seized her hand, pulled her into the pit, and covered her up. He put on her dress and kerchief and waited.
When the witch returned, she called out, "Has the baby of the family run away?"
"No, Mother," he replied in the girl's voice. "He is here."
The witch boiled a pot of water until it roared. "Son of a profligate," she shouted at the pit. "Today you will see!" She poured the scalding water into the hole.
The girl inside screamed, "Mother, it is I! Mother, it is I!"
But the baby of the family called out, "It is a lie! May Allah guard you from giving birth to such a liar!" He spoke until the girl in the pit fell silent.
The witch lifted her out, cut her up, and cooked her in a pot with daudawa spice and salt. She called out, "Youngest daughter, come forward. You alone shall eat the son of the profligate woman."
"No," said the baby of the family. "You eat and be filled."
The witch crunched the meat until she was full, leaving only a small piece. "There is your share," she said.
"Mother," the baby of the family said, "today you have eaten all your daughters. Only you remain." He threw aside the cloak. "Do you see? It is I. You did not eat me."
He ran to his town and cried, "Flee! The witch is coming!" The whole town rose up and fled into the bush.
As they ran, an elder brother said, "I have dropped my slipper. I must go back."
"Do not go," warned the baby of the family. But the brother insisted. So the baby of the family said, "Allow me to return instead."
He went back to the empty town. The witch arrived and closed the door, trapping him inside. He climbed to the roof and caught hold of a beam.
"If you want to eat me," he called down, "open your eyes wide at me. I will be so afraid I will fall into your mouth."
The witch raised her head and opened her eyes as wide as she could. The baby of the family had ground peppers in his pocket. He cast the dust into her eyes. She screamed and closed them, blinded by the spice.
He climbed down. As he rushed for the door, she grabbed his foot.
"Fool!" he cried. "You have caught a stick, not my foot!"
She let go of the stick to grab a post, and he slipped out. He seized the door, shut it tight, and set fire to the house. The old witch burned within.
He returned to the chief and told him what had been done. "Let us return home," the chief said. Drums were beaten in town and village, and everyone assembled.
The chief brought one hundred cloaks, one hundred trousers, one hundred cattle, and one hundred horses. He offered half his town and all these riches to the baby of the family.
But the baby of the family said, "Chief, a town without protection is worthless. Let a wall be built before the people disperse."
The chief said, "There is no one able to build a walled town."
"I shall build it," said the baby of the family. "Give me assistance with the men."
The chief consented. So the baby of the family built a walled town, strong and high. And that was the origin of walled towns, begun by the baby of the family so that all might see and be safe.
Off with the rat's head.