WANDONG AND THE LEOPARDESS
By Wade Fang Fu-uh Mac-Edwin
Once upon a time, there lived a very intelligent being named Wandong. Intelligence he had in abundance, but the strength—or perhaps the willingness—to work was something he lacked. Among the people, his laziness was not tolerated. Wherever he went, he was driven away, for he seemed to know only one thing well: eating.
After being turned away from one relative’s home after another, Wandong lamented his useless and purposeless existence on earth. At last, he decided to leave the village and live in the bush.
Deep in the bush, Wandong met a Leopardess who had recently given birth to ten cubs. She had been searching for a babysitter for a long time. Because she had no one to care for her young ones, she could not go to the farm.
When Wandong saw her, he exclaimed, “Aha! My sister, so you have been living here?”
The Leopardess replied, “Yes, my brother, I live here. But I have no babysitter. Everyone else goes to the farm, while I must remain here with my children.”
Wandong answered warmly, “My own sister, my dear sister—Kebeghatsughunsen! I am Wandonghotsughunsen, and you are Kebeghatsughunsen. How can you lack a babysitter when I am here? Your worries are over. From now on, you may go to the farm.”
The Leopardess was delighted. She believed that her brother had come to relieve her by caring for her children. The next morning, she returned to farming, and Wandong began his work as a babysitter.
But Wandong had one great weakness: the smell and taste of meat were almost impossible for him to resist.
The trusting Leopardess kept all ten cubs in a raised barn. Whenever she returned from the farm, Wandong brought them down one after another so that she could nurse them. She never climbed into the barn to count them herself.
On that first fateful day, Wandong brought down one cub and ate it. He spent the rest of the day pretending that nothing had happened.
When the Leopardess returned from the farm, she felt the heat inside the house and exclaimed, “Ho! Why is the house so hot today? What have you been cooking?”
“Nothing at all,” Wandong replied. “I have been starving since morning. I am terribly hungry. I have had nothing to eat.”
“Then bring down my children so that I may nurse them,” said the Leopardess.
Wandong climbed into the barn and brought down the cubs one after another. The mother nursed them until she reached the ninth. Then Wandong secretly brought down the first cub again, making it appear that all ten were present. Satisfied that her children were safe, the Leopardess suspected nothing.
The following day, after the Leopardess had gone to the farm, Wandong ate another cub. He repeated the same trick when she returned. Day after day, he continued in this way until he had eaten five of the ten cubs. Because the Leopardess never climbed into the barn to count them, Wandong simply brought each remaining cub down twice, making five cubs appear to be ten.
Eventually, only one cub remained. That evening, Wandong climbed into the barn ten times and brought down the same cub each time.
The cub’s strange behaviour surprised its mother.
“Ho! Why are my children not nursing properly today? They are hardly taking any milk.”
Wandong replied, “Do not mind that little one. He ate throughout the day while his brothers refused to eat. That is why he is not hungry now.”
Once again, the Leopardess believed him. She went to sleep, convinced that all her children were still safe.
The next day, after she had gone to the farm, Wandong’s mouth began to water. Unable to control himself, he brought down the last cub and ate it without pity.
When he had finished, his senses returned. He suddenly realised that the Leopardess would devour him when she came home and discovered that all her cubs were gone. Wandong quickly devised a plan.
He found a razor blade and made several cuts on his body. Then he ground some charcoal and rubbed it over the wounds. Afterward, he lay on the ground and began to shiver as though he had been badly beaten.
Later, two of the Leopardess’s older children returned and found him in that condition.
“Hey! Hey! Wandong, what is troubling you?” they cried.
Wandong groaned and answered, “My sister’s children, some men came here. They climbed into the barn, brought down all the little ones and ate them. Then they beat me and left me with these wounds. I am burning with pain.”
He paused, pretending to struggle for breath, and continued, “Your mother returned earlier and saw me like this. She said that when you came home, you should carry me far away and leave me across the river, so that the rain will not meet me here.”
The two children were innocent and unsuspecting. Believing that they were obeying their mother’s instruction, they lifted Wandong and began to carry him away.
They ran and ran. At that same moment, their mother was returning from the farm. From a distance, the Leopardess saw her older children hurrying away with Wandong. Alarmed, she rushed to the barn to check on her cubs.
To her greatest horror, the barn was empty.
She sprang down and raced after them, shouting, “Throw down that wicked creature! He has eaten all my children! Throw him down!”
But the two children could not hear her clearly. Wandong, however, heard every word.
“Aha!” he told them. “Listen! Your mother is saying that you should run faster and cross the bridge before the rain begins.”
Dark rain clouds were already gathering, so the children increased their speed. The Leopardess ran after them with all her strength, but by the time she caught up, they had already crossed the river and placed Wandong safely on the opposite bank.
The two children then returned across the bridge to meet their mother. As soon as they had crossed, Wandong destroyed the bridge behind them.
When the Leopardess reached the river and saw Wandong standing safely on the other side, she was overcome with rage and grief. She beat her two older children for allowing themselves to be deceived. Then she searched desperately for a way to cross the river and seize Wandong, but there was none. The bridge was gone, and the river stood between them.
Realising that the Leopardess could no longer reach him, Wandong regained his courage. He began to dance and taunt her, chanting:
“I have eaten all the Leopardess’s children, oh!
I have eaten all the Leopardess’s children, oh!”
The Leopardess struggled in anger and frustration, but she could not cross the river. Wandong escaped, leaving her grieving on the opposite bank.
From that day onward, Wandong and the Leopardess became bitter enemies.
THE END