By Josh Wilson
One day Kocau-Asu-Asu was working in his field. And as he dug and ploughed and displaced soil, he woke up a shriveled imp sleeping under a stone.
Now the imp was an ancient, sour spirit, and was soon to come back as a lemon tree. But Kocau-Asu-Asu was clearing his fields, and knew naught of such matters. And so he shattered the stone under which the imp made its home, and then cast the shards into the river.
This made the imp very angry, for how could it grow into a lemon tree with no stone to sleep under? Nevertheless, it rooted around in the earth and soon found another rock with a hollow beneath, where it curled up to sleep.
So the day ended, and the sun slipped quietly below the horizon. The moon was reborn, fat and healthy, and slowly climbed up into the sky. Kocau-Asu-Asu left his plough by the great Dau-tree, and returned to his hut and his wife. There, they ate roasted plantains and drank cows-blood with milk.
After the meal his wife said,
“Kocau-Asu-Asu, where is your plough? Was it taken from you by our lazy neighbors?”
(For indeed, their neighbors were a sluggish people who would sooner go through the trouble of stealing a plough than building one. But this was not the case that day, and he told her so.)
“No, wife,” said he. “Our lazy neighbors have moved to the far side of the river, where they believe the plantains to be fatter and riper than here. They did not take the plough.”
“Where is the plough then, husband?”
To which he replied,
“I have left it by the great Dau-Tree by the far side of the field, for I was weary from breaking stones and did not have the strength to carry it back.”
She was deeply disturbed, and told him thus:
“Oh, Kocau-Asu-Asu, this is a foolish thing! Did you ask the tree’s permission?”
And he had not. So his wife prepared a mash made from yam and milk and said, “Take this to the tree, oh husband, and leave it by the plough. That way the tree will see our good intentions and not break the plough out of spite.”
Kocau-Asu-Asu saw this was wise, and readily agreed to do it. And so he did! When he returned his wife said, “Is it done, husband?”
And he said, “It is, my wife.”
So they slept in peace.
But the imp was awakened by Kocau-Asu-Asu when he left the mash, and when he returned to his hut and his wife, it crept out from beneath the stone and ate the mash, crumbs and all.
So, when the tree noticed that someone had left a plough leaning against its trunk, along with an empty plate, it grew angry and smashed them both.
The next morning, Kocau-Asu-Asu woke and bade his wife good morning, and went to fetch his plough. But when he got to his field, all he found were some scattered bits of wood.
What could have done this? he thought, for he saw the empty plate upon which he had left the mash.
Well, you and I know the truth, but Kocau-Asu-Asu did not, and grew very angry.
“Oh tree!” he cried. “You have been very unkind, because you smashed my plough and ate the mash I left to show my good intentions. This is very poor behavior from a tree, and now I shall cut myself a new plough from your own wood. What do you say to that, tree?”
But of course, the tree said nothing, for trees can neither speak nor understand human-talk. All it saw was a little thing waving its arms like this, and shouting nonsense syllables, “Yabba yabba yabba!”
The tree found this very funny, and began to laugh, “Hoh hoh hoh!”
Well, you can imagine it stopped laughing when the little man leapt up and, quick as that, lopped off two fine limbs. And because trees move so slowly, except under the enchantment of night, the great Dau-Tree could do naught to stop him.
And so Kocau-Asu-Asu built himself a sturdy new plough, and set about sowing and clearing his field of stones.
Well, he wasn’t at it too long, and what do you think? He came across the stone under which the imp slept, in order to grow into a lemon tree.
He was no time in breaking up the rock and casting the pieces in the river. The imp was very annoyed by this, but it just sat back on its wrinkled bottom and dug around till it found a new rock.
When dusk came along and made the world dark, Kocau-Asu-Asu stopped working and returned to his woman and their hut, taking the plough with him.
The next day, Kocau-Asu-Asu was back ploughing and, can you guess? He found the rock the imp was lying under so as to grow into a lemon tree, and he broke it up and cast it in the river.
Well, this was really going too far. The imp was coming closer and closer to growing into a lemon tree. So it was getting very bitter. Even its mouth was all puckered up, like this!
When Kocau-Asu-Asu went home for dinner, the imp went to the granary and crept into a seed. The next day, Kocau-Asu-Asu set about planting, and scattered the seeds all about the rich dark soil of his newly-ploughed field.
Soon enough the imp grew into a tall bean plant. Kocau’s wife took the beans and cooked them up and ate them, and soon she became pregnant.
Well! Kocau-Asu-Asu was very happy, and soon his wife’s belly was out to here, and one day she had a baby!
Kocau-Asu-Asu was again very happy, but he took a careful look at the baby, and then he wasn’t as happy, and he took a long whiff with his long nose, and then he wasn’t happy at all.
“Pah!” he cried, and squinched up his face. “Wife, what is this shriveled, bitter thing?”
And his wife said, “It is wrinkly and smells like all new babies. I shall bathe it and dry it, and it will grow more pleasant.”
So she did this, but the child remained shriveled and sour.
“Pah!” Kocau held his nose and said, “It smells like a lemon tree! I will fetch the medicine chief, and he shall make our baby smell like a person.”
And off he went.
Then the wife looked at the baby, and the baby looked at the wife. And the baby said,
“Mother, you must give me your breast so I can drink your milk and grow strong like father, and help him work in the field.”
And so Kocau-Asu-Asu’s wife let the child suck, and in an instant the baby grew twice its height and drank his mother’s breast dry, so that it was an empty sack, like an old woman’s dug.
And the baby said, “Mother, you must give me your other breast so I can drink your milk and grow strong like father, and help him work in the field.”
And, because a mother is often blind to her child’s foul turnings, Kocau-Asu-Asu’s wife gave the child suck, and in an instant the child grew again twice its height, and drained her other breast dry.
Then the mother saw her child for what it was, and the imp leered at her with a mouth full of ivory bones for teeth and said, “Now, Mother, I will kiss you on the cheek and wait for Father to return!”
With that, the imp seized Kocau-Asu-Asu’s wife and gobbled her up, buttons and all. Then it settled down to wait for the unsuspecting husband’s return.
Now, Kocau-Asu-Asu had searched all afternoon, from the river to the edge of the forest, but could not find the medicine chief.
(For indeed, the medicine-chief was far to the South, fighting the great fire-spirits that threatened to swallow the whole country. But that is another story, child, for another day.)
So, despairing, he returned to the hut, and instead of finding a wife, a child, and a meal, he found a huge imp leering at him from the ceiling.
It hung from the rafters on its two backwards legs, and leered with two eyes like moons. Its mouth was full of horrible tusks, its breath blew trees and frightened animals, and in a voice like twenty tigers roaring it said,
“I HAVE EATEN YOUR WIFE, AND NOW I WILL EAT YOU AND THEN REST UNDER THE STONES IN YOUR FIELD!”
And with that it leapt upon Kocau-Asu-Asu, and fastened on to him with its reversed legs, and sought to swallow him in one gulp!
But Kocau-Asu-Asu was a resourceful man, and battered the imp with his sturdy plough.
So they fought for a day and a night, till the stars themselves looked down to see what all the fuss was about.
Finally, the imp was pinned, and when the dust cleared, Kocau-Asu-Asu throttled it till its eyes fell out, and slit it belly to brow.
Out sprang his wife — fresh and whole — and together they tied the imp with hemp and fed it to the crocodiles in the river.
His wife, who was very wise, and who survived the imp’s acid interior through powerful arts learned from her grandmother, then spoke to her husband:
“Kocau-Asu-Asu, you have been very foolish. Listen to my words, small man, and we shall evade such troubles for all tomorrows.”
On her advising, they put up tall poles on which to hang the imp’s two huge eyes, like moons. So fearful were those terrible dead eyes, the scavenger-birds never came to raid their fields, and their lazy neighbors were too frightened cross the river.
Then she put her ear against the trunk of the great Dau-Tree, and learned of its woe. So she made Kocau-Asu-Asu give the tree its limbs back, and it was so grateful it gave him newly-fallen branches with which to build an even better plough!
Then she put her ear to the ground, and listened for the stirrings of dark imps and sprites who work mischief in the world of humans. But she heard none. And so she rose and said,
“My husband, let this teach you to think carefully about what stones you turn, and shatter, and to always remember how your plans may disturb the great, calm clockwork of our world.”
And to this day Kocau-Asu-Asu hearkens to her words. Even to the glistening dewdrops he offers his deference and praise, and asks their forgiveness when his passage shakes them from the morning’s fresh green leaves.