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Stories are a big part of the African culture and growing up in the city of Port-Harcourt, these stories shaped my childhood. Times are different now and these bedtime stories which were passed down through generations are not as popular with children as they once were. This podcast aims to bring these stories to the new generation of African children and introduce everyone else to these wonderful stories from the motherland. The lessons and values learnt from these will never be forgotten. Welcome to Stories Mother Told.
In the heart of Zimbabwe, where stories are shared by warm fires and passed down from grandparents to grandchildren, there’s one tale everyone knows—the story of Hare and Baboon. Baboon thought Hare was his true friend, someone he could trust no matter what. But as this story goes, even the best friendships can sometimes hide tricky surprises..
One bright morning, Hare came to Baboon with a proposal. “My friend,” he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement, “I’m off to visit my future in-laws in a nearby village. They’ll be throwing a feast in my honor, and I’d love you to come along.”
Baboon’s face lit up. He had never been invited to a feast like this, and he could already imagine the delicious food that awaited them. “Of course, I’ll come!” Baboon replied with enthusiasm. “It’ll be an adventure.”
The journey was long and the sun was fierce, but the friends walked side by side, Baboon sharing stories and Hare laughing heartily. Along the way, Hare paused, crouching beside a small herb that grew by the path. He pointed at the plant, his face suddenly serious.
“Baboon,” Hare said, “this herb is a special one. If I get a stomach ache after we eat, I’ll need you to come back here and fetch it for me. It’s the only thing that can cure me.”
Baboon nodded, impressed by Hare’s knowledge. “Don’t worry, my friend. If you need it, I’ll come back right away.”
As they reached the village, the air was filled with the rich smell of roasting meat and the sounds of laughter and music. They were welcomed warmly, and soon enough, platters of food were laid out before them—bowls brimming with roasted yams, spiced meats, and sweet maize. Baboon’s mouth watered, and he could barely wait to begin.
But just as they were about to dig in, Hare clutched his stomach, his face twisting in pain. “Oh! Oh, Baboon,” he groaned, doubling over, “it’s my stomach! I need that herb right away.”
Without a second thought, Baboon sprang up. “I’ll get it!” he promised, rushing out the door. He retraced their steps along the long path, his legs burning as he hurried to find the herb. He wanted to help his friend as quickly as possible, and he plucked the herb just as Hare had shown him, then sprinted all the way back to the village.
By the time Baboon returned, he was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. But when he looked at the table, his heart sank. Every platter was empty. The villagers were wiping their hands, laughing and chatting, while Hare sat back with a satisfied grin on his face.
“Hare,” Baboon panted, “what happened to the food?”
“Oh,” Hare said casually, patting his belly, “I managed to eat without it hurting after all. I suppose the pain just went away. But you took so long, Baboon! The villagers were hungry, so we finished everything.”
Baboon felt a pang of disappointment. His stomach growled, but he forced a smile, not wanting to make a fuss. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said quietly.
Night fell, and the village grew silent. As they lay under the stars, Baboon’s stomach rumbled loudly, a painful reminder of the meal he’d missed. Hearing this, Hare leaned over with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re really hungry,” he whispered, “there’s a goat pen nearby. We could sneak in, take a goat, and cook it ourselves. No one would ever know.”
Baboon hesitated. The idea didn’t sit well with him, but his hunger gnawed at him, clouding his better judgment. “Alright,” he agreed, his voice low. “Just this once.”
The two friends tiptoed through the dark village, moving as quietly as shadows, until they reached the pen. They managed to grab a goat without waking anyone, and together, they cooked and ate it under the cover of night. The food was warm, and for a moment, Baboon felt content, his hunger finally satisfied.
When Baboon fell asleep, Hare’s trickery was far from over. While Baboon slept deeply, Hare dipped his hands in the blood left from their meal and smeared it on Baboon’s fur, covering his hands and mouth in crimson stains. Then, Hare slipped away, leaving Baboon alone.
At dawn, the village awoke to discover a missing goat. The villagers searched the area, looking for any trace of the thief. When they found Baboon, fast asleep and covered in blood, they were furious.
“Thief!” they shouted. “How dare you steal from us after we fed you so well!”
Baboon woke up to angry faces and accusing fingers. He looked down at his stained fur, confused and horrified. “It wasn’t me!” he tried to explain, but his protests were drowned out by the villagers’ shouts.
Meanwhile, Hare watched from a distance, hidden from sight, a smug smile on his face. He slinked away quietly, leaving his friend to face the punishment alone.
The villagers chased Baboon out of the village, their voices filled with rage. Baboon wandered back along the path, heartbroken and betrayed, realizing only then that his friend had played him for a fool. His trust in Hare had cost him dearly.
From that day on, Baboon learned to be cautious of those who seemed too clever for their own good. And Hare? He went on with his life, never once looking back. But tales of his betrayal spread, a warning to others about the dangers of misplaced trust.