Abunuwasi and the Cooking Pots

          Over the year's I've been told many, many, many African stories by my baba. Some of them are fairy tails, while others happened to him (or so he claims). I've decided to post these stories here for you enjoyment during those times when I don't have much interesting to report of my travels.
          This is the story of Abunuwasi* an the Cooking Pots...
          Abunuwasi lived in a small village a long time ago in Tanzania. He was a very smart, and very lazy. A dangerous combination, as any of the villagers could warn you. I don't mean to say that Abunuwasi was a mean person. Far from it, Abunuwasi was always very kind and polite. He was just very good at getting what he wanted without working for it. Indeed, sometimes Abunuwasi could be most helpful. Usually this was when he was the most dangerous.
          Now Abunuwasi had three old small cooking pots. They weren't very big, and they weren't very good for cooking in. Abunuwasi needed new cooking pots. But Abunuwasi didn't want to go and buy them. So he thought, and thought, and thought of how he might turn his three old little pots into thee new big cooking pots. Finally he figured out a way.
          First, Abunuwasi went and asked one of his neighbors if he could borrow a cooking pot. At first the villager was suspicious.
          "How do I know that you will bring it back?" he asked.
          "I only need it for a few days," reassured Abunuwasi, "If I don't bring it back by the end of two weeks, I'll pay you for the pot."
          So Abunuwasi swore, and eventually the neighbor allowed him to borrow one old, chipped, pot. A few days later, Abunuwasi brought the pot back to his neighbor.
          “Here is your pot, just as I promised.”
          The villager was amazed, having not expected to see the pot again. He was even more amazed, when, on going inside, he discovered another little pot inside the larger one.
          "Abunuwasi!" the neighbor called, "Come back, come back! You have given me your little cooking pot!"
          Abunuwasi came back and looked inside the pot. Just as the villager said, a little cooking pot lay inside.
          Abunuwasi clapped his forehead "Oh yes, I forgot to tell you! While I had the pot I noticed that it started to look a little fat."
          "A little fat? How?"
          "Oh, you know, it grew thick in one side. That was when I began to suspect."
          "Suspect what?"
          "That the pot which you had given me was pregnant, of course."
          "Pregnant?!"
          "Yes, exactly. Sure enough, a few days before I brought it back to you, your big pot gave birth to this little pot," Abunuwasi held up the pot, "See, it has a little chip, just like its mother. Since the mother pot belonged to you, I didn't feel right keeping the child, so I gave the little pot back with the big one."
          The neighbor shook his head. He'd never heard of a pot giving birth before. But if Abunuwasi wants to give me a pot, let him give me a pot. It's certainly better than keeping mine, as I had expected, the villager thought to himself. A few days later Abunuwasi came back again and asked to borrow two cooking pots for just a month. The villager agreed, and gave Abunuwasi two pots of medium quality, wondering if any of them might be "pregnant". Sure enough, when Abunuwasi brought the pots back there was a little pot inside of each of them. Both just like their mothers.
          Again Abunuwasi returned after a few days. This time he asked if he might possibly borrow three pots for a month or two. Happily, the neighbor gave Abunuwasi his three best pots, knowing he'd find three little pots inside when Abunuwasi returned. A month passed, and then another, and then another, and still Abunuwasi didn't return with the three pots and their babies. Finally, after the third month, the neighbor went to Abunuwasi's to ask about the pots.
          "Abunuwasi, you asked to borrow three pots for two months.  It has now been nearly four months , where are they?"
          At this Abunuwasi got very sad, "Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. I don't know how to say this... I'm so sorry..."
          "Sorry for what? What did you do with my pots?"
          "I buried them, of course."
          "You what?!"
          "I buried them."
          "Abunuwasi, why did you bury my three best pots?"
          "Because the died, obviously."
          "How can a pot die?
          Abunuwasi looked in amazement at the villager, "Surely you know that anything that gives birth one day must die!"


E’ya! - Tate