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Elliot Ziwira @ The Book Store
My late grandmother Violet, popularly known by her legion of admirers as VaVhariyeta, was a storyteller par excellence. She could tell us old and new tales with the same finesse of detail accompanied by hilarious songs, and we could never tire of listening. She could delve into folkloric drama with its journey motifs and songs to highlight the nature of man and his ways.

Though she could exploit human characters with the same ease and with the same effect, it was her use of animal characters that appealed to us more; my brother Shepherd, cousins Pascoe, Kenny, Darlington, Wonder, and I, as we snuggled closer to the greatest storyteller of our world.

Hare was prominent in her stories and it never ceased to amaze us how the animal kingdom could be so easily hoodwinked and outwitted by the little rabble-rouser, got wiser at some point, but still remained at his mercy.

All the animals, Lion, the king of the jungle, included, could not untangle themselves from their naughty nephew’s snare. We wondered how an entire kingdom could be that gullible to be played tomfoolery once too often by such a sickling like Hare.

They could do much better without him, yet they felt poorer without him. Our young minds could just not decipher it, even after granny’s exposition of the moral lessons in the stories. I for one remained as befuddled as I was sizzled, and as inquisitive as I was captivated, until the world of politics illuminated itself on the horizon of my innocence.

Politics has a way of creating gullibility out of a whole citizenry, as “master thinkers” who believe that they can outwit everyone at the drop of a hat take advantage of them. Politics is a strange phenomenon indeed, which makes my grandmother’s folktales even apt.

There is one story that I especially enjoyed, not so much for its content but for its didactic appeal. Gentle citizen, friend and countryman, allow me to take you a bit to the nostalgic past, as we have travelled the same path when our grandmothers told us stories which we thought could not possibly have any bearing on our lives. I will relate the story as my grandmother told it, not as you may know it from school textbooks.

A great famine hit the land and threatened to decimate all life – human and animal. Seeing their ranks dwindling, the animals realised that they needed to bring heads together. Lion, the revered king of the jungle, called for a meeting with the Council of Elders, which he chaired so that a solution could be found.

Before taking the issue to a conference with the other animals, it was resolved that a well be dug on the banks of the mighty Nyakambiri River. Deliberations at the conference established that all the animals should take turns in digging the well, and that whoever decided to put spanners in the project, either by design or default, should not be allowed to draw water from the pond. Thus, in good faith all the animals agreed to partake in the task as there were no dissentients.

However, Hare, who was full of excuses, decided not to be part of the laborious task of digging the well of life; but with or without him, the animals were determined to bring their project to fruition. Indeed the animals succeeded in their quest, and another conference was called for, wherein it was agreed that the animals should compile a roster to guard the resource against one of their own, Hare.

Hare wanted water for himself and his family, yet he refused to participate; and he, cunning Magen’a, knew he could still get it. After weighing his options, he came up with a super plan. He was aware that no one in the animal kingdom could say no to honey, and he knew where to find it and how. With his two gourds, an empty one for the water that he knew he would definitely get, and another one full of honey, Hare went to the guarded well.

The first on duty was Jackal, so he became the cunning little rascal’s unfortunate barometer. Hare did not have to take ages to convince Jackal to listen to him that he had to be manacled if he wanted to have the gourd of honey to himself, after treating him to a lick of his fingers.

Using this trick, Hare managed to manacle Jackal, fill his gourd with water, take a bath in the well and casually walk away, leaving his first victim to face the wrath of the other animals. Although all the other animals were mad with fury, they knew that Hare could outsmart them one way or the other.

And mind gentle citizen, Jackal did not disclose how he was tricked; no one opens up to corrupt tendencies. Even though the animals, including some in the Council of Elders, continued to take turns to guard the well, they succumbed to the same modus operandi; and still the issue of honey was not mentioned.

Honey for all, manacles for all, and Hare continued to draw water from the well; until, much to the surprise of all and sundry, Tortoise volunteered to try his luck on the little master schemer.

Tortoise’s plan was simple; never give an ear to a trickster. He knew that Hare had the gift of the gab, so the best bet was to avoid listening to him. Unlike the other animals, Tortoise hid in the well, so when Hare called out he did not respond. When he was satisfied that there was no one around, the schemer laughed out loud, before filling his gourd and jumping into the well for a swim. Unfortunately, Hare found himself in the slow one’s grip until all the other animals came.

The Council of Elders convened a meeting to decide Hare’s fate, and Tortoise, the hero, was not part of it. It was resolved that the cunning culprit be reduced to prey that will be shared by all the animals.

At the conference that followed the elders’ decision, the animals were divided into two camps, as Hare came up with something else, which Tortoise could see through but had no power to have a majority rally behind him. Hare had a proposition. He was too small, he reasoned, for all of them to share him, and since they all wanted to have a piece of him, the solution was to follow a weakness known only to those close to the secrets of hares.

“It’s very simple,” Hare started. “We hares have a phobia which can be traced back to our ancestors. The sight of so much meat over a long period of time worries us; that is why we do not eat meat. We are vegetarians as you are all aware. If you lock me up in that hut which you use to store your meat, just for a night I will be transformed to the size of an adult hyena. It’s that simple. Then you will have your feast.”

There were shouts, threats, swearing and name calling, before the Council of Elders decided to follow Hare’s idea. Hare’s gamble was on Hyena. He knew that his uncle had a weakness for easy meat and was also not gifted with the sense of discernment. Since there would be no one to guard the hut because Hare would be inside, Hyena might be tempted to come for the spoils; as his nephew winked at him at the conference.

It so happened then that Hare was bundled into the storeroom and the door bolted from the outside. True to Magen’a’s foresight, Hyena came in the middle of the night to coax his wise nephew to open the door for him, which he “begrudgingly” did. When the gluttonous uncle was enjoying his feast, Hare asked to be excused since he wanted to relieve himself. Once outside, he bolted the door and disappeared into the serene night.

Came the morrow, the animals converged at the hut, and true to his word, Hare had transformed into a fully grown hyena. Inasmuch as Hyena tried to reason with them, “It’s me Mtisi, Hare locked me here and disappeared,” his fellow comrades could not take heed; after all what had brought him there? All their bottled ire was spewed out onto Hyena’s lap; and they tore him into pieces. To them Hare had for once kept his word.

Gentle citizen, friend, countryman, Hare has been metamorphosed in our midst, and is still the same one that pervaded my grandmother’s tales; smooth talking, persuasive, conceited, cunning, corrupt, opportunistic, individualistic, divisive and lazy.

Unlike the Hare of my granny’s stories who responded to only one moniker; Magen’a, today’s Hare, wears many faces and responds to many monikers which makes him fool everybody, even those closest to him. He appears to be supporting all our ideals or even safeguarding them, but indeed he remains as selfish as ever in his quest for self-aggrandisement. His strength, mind you, lies in the modern honey, which he commands – money. With it he buys silence and immunity.

Beware the cunning Hare who wants to put spanners in our project.