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In South Africa we love the outdoors and camping and a very special time is sitting around the campfire in the evenings and telling stories. I recently came upon a book titled Outa Karel's Stories. Over the next few letters I will be featuring tales from this book which was published in 1914 and written by Sannie Metelerkamp. I will start off with the foreword and introduction before getting to the actual stories.

OUTA KAREL'S STORIES
SOUTH AFRICAN FOLK-LORE TALES BY SANNI METELERKAMP
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1914

Here are two more stories, previous stories can be found here.

The Animals’ Dam.

“Ach! it was dry,” said Outa, “as dry as last year’s springbok biltong. For a long time
the Old Man in the sky shot down strong light and sucked all the water out of the
veld. From morning to night he poured down hotness on the world, and when he
rolled round to sleep, a hot wind blew—and blew—and blew—till he woke to shine
again. The karroo bushes dried up, the rivers had no water, and the poor animals
began to die from thirst. It was such a drought, my little masters, as you have never
seen.
“At last Oom Leeuw called the animals together to make a plan.
“The Sun had gone under, and the Lady Moon was sailing in the sky—beautiful, as
she always is, and looking down on the hot world. Oom Leeuw sat under a krantz on
the morning side of a kopje, where it was a little cool, and the others sat round him
like a watermelon slice. Leopard, Hyena, Babiaan, Jakhals, Hare and Tortoise were in
front; they were the chief ones. The smaller ones, like Dassie, Mierkat, and
Hedgehog, were at the sides; and Zebra, Springbok, Ostrich and Giraffe waited in the
veld to hear the news. They pretended to be eating, but all the time their ears went
backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards—so, my baasjes,—to catch every
little sound, and they were ready at the first sign of danger to race away, kicking up
the dust so that Oom Leeuw would not be able to see them.
“But they needn’t have been afraid. Oom Leeuw was too hot and tired and weak to
catch anything. He just sat against the krantz with his dry tongue hanging out, and the

others just lay round about in the watermelon slice with their dry tongues hanging
out, and every time they looked at the sky to see if any clouds were coming up. But
no! The sky was just like a big, hot soap-pot turned over above their heads, with the
Lady Moon making a silver road across it, and the little stars shining like bits broken
off the big, hot Sun. There was nothing that even looked like a cloud.
“At last Oom Leeuw pulled in his tongue and rolled it about in his mouth to get the
dryness off. When it stopped rattling, he began to talk.
“‘Friends and brothers and nephews,’ he said—yes, just like that Oom Leeuw began;
he was so miserable that he felt friendly with them all. ‘Friends and brothers and
nephews, it is time to make a plan. You know how it is with a drought; when it is at
its worst, the bottom of the clouds falls out, and the water runs away fast, fast, to the
sea, where there is too much water already, and the poor karroo is left again without
any. Even if a land-rain comes, it just sinks in, because the ground is too loose and
dry to hold it, so we must make a plan to keep the water, and my plan is to dig a dam.
But it’s no use for one or two to work; everyone must help. What do you say?’
“‘Certainly,’ said Leopard.
“‘Certainly,’ said Hyena.
“‘Certainly,’ said Ant-bear.
“‘Certainly,’ said Jakhals, but he winked his eye at the Lady Moon, and then put his
nose into the warm sand so that no one could see his sly smile.
“All the other animals said ‘Certainly,’ and then they began to talk about the dam.
Dear land! A person would never have said their throats were dry. Each one had a
different plan, and each one talked without listening to the other. It was like a Church
bazaar—yes, baasjes, long ago when Outa was young he was on a bazaar in the
village, but he was glad, my baasjes, when he could creep into the veld again and get
the noise out of his ears.
“At last the Water Tortoise—he with the wise little head under his patchwork shell—
said, ‘Let us go now while it is cool, and look for a place for the dam.’
“So they hunted about and found a nice place, and soon they began to make the dam.
Baasjes, but those animals worked! They scratched, they dug, they poked, they bored,
they pushed and they rolled; and they all did their best, so that the dam could be ready
when the rain came. Only lazy Jakhals did not work. He just roamed round saying to
the others, ‘Why don’t you do this?’ ‘Why don’t you do that?’ till at last they asked,
‘Why don’t you do it yourself?’
“But Jakhals only laughed at them. ‘And why should I be so foolish as to scratch my
nails off for your old dam?’ he said.
“‘But you said “Certainly,” too, when Oom asked us, didn’t you?’ they asked.
“Then Jakhals laughed more than ever. ‘Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! Am I then a slave of my
word? That was last night. Don’t you know yet that a thing is one colour by
moonlight, and quite another colour when the sun shines on it? Ha! ha! ha!’
“So he went about bothering the poor animals that were working so hard, and
laughing at them when they got hot and tired.
“‘What’s the use of working so hard? Those who do not work will also drink.’
“‘How do you know?’ they asked.
“‘Wait a bit, you’ll see,’ said sly Jakhals, winking his eye again.
“At last the dam was finished, and that very night the rain began. It kept on and on,
till the dam was quite full and the water began to run away over the veld, down to the
great big dam called the Sea, that is the Mother of all water, and so broad, my baasjes,
that truly you can’t see the wall at the other side, even when you stand on a high

kopje. Yes, so Outa has heard from truth-telling people. The milk-bushes and karroobushes
grew green again, and the little veld flowers burst out of the hard ground, and
opened their white, and blue, and pink, and purple eyes to look at the Sun. They were
like variegated karosses spread out on the veld, and the Old Man in the sky was not
so fierce any more; he did not burn them with his hotness, but looked at them kindly.
“And the animals were toch so glad for the water! From far and near they came to the
dam to drink.
“But Jakhals was before them all. Soon after the Sun went down—baasjes know, the
wild animals sleep in the daytime and hunt in the night—he went to the dam and
drank as much water as he wanted, and filled his clay pot with some to take home.
Then he swam round and round to get cool, making the water muddy and dirty, and
when the other animals came to drink, he slipped over the dam wall and was lost in
the veld as if he had been a large pin.
“My! but Oom Leeuw was very angry!
“‘Hoorr-rr-rr,’ he roared, ‘hoorr-rr-rr! What is this for a thing? Does the lazy one
think he can share with the workers? Who ever heard of such a thing? Hoorr-rr-rr!
Here, Broer Babiaan, take this big kierie and hide yourself by the dam to-night, so
that you can catch this Vagabond, this Water-stealer.’
“Early that night, there was Jakhals again. He peeped this way and that way—so, my
baasjes,—and, yes truly, there was old Broer Babiaan lying amongst the bushes. But
Jakhals was too schelm for him. He made as if he didn’t see him. He danced along on
his hind legs, all in the round, all in the round, at the edge of the dam, singing:—
‘Hing-ting-ting! Honna-mak-a-ding!
My sweet, sweet water!’
“He sang this over and over, and every time he came to the end of a line, he dipped
his fingers into his clay pot and sucked them.
“‘Aha! but my honey is nice,’ he said, licking his lips. ‘What do I want with their old
dirty water, when I have a whole potful of nice sweet water!’
“Baasjes know, baboons will do anything for honey, and when old Broer Babiaan
heard Jakhals he forgot he was there to guard the dam. He crept out from his hidingplace,
a little nearer, and a little nearer, and at last he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
When Jakhals came dancing along again, he called out in a great hurry, ‘Good
evening, Jakhals! Please give me a little of your sweet water, too!’
“‘Arré!’ said Jakhals, jumping to one side and pretending to be startled. ‘What a
schrik you gave me! What are you doing here, Broer Babiaan?’
“‘Ach no! Jakhals, I’m just taking a little walk. It’s such a fine night.’
“‘But why have you got that big kierie?’
“‘Only to dig out eintjes.’
“‘Do you really want some of my sweet water?’
“‘Yes, please, Jakhals,’ said Broer Babiaan, licking his lips.
“‘And what will you give me for it?’
“‘I’ll let you fill your pot with water from the dam.’
“‘Ach! I don’t want any of that dirty old dam water, but I know how fond you are of
this sweet water, Broer, so I’ll let you drink some. Here, I’ll hold your kierie while
you drink.’
“Boer Babiaan was in such a hurry to get to the honey that he just threw the kierie to
Jakhals, but just as he was going to put his fingers into the pot, Jakhals pulled it away.

“‘No, wait a bit, Broer,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you a better way. It will taste much nicer
if you lie down.’
“‘Ach no! really, Jakhals?’
“‘Yes, really,’ said Jakhals. ‘And if you don’t lie down at once, you won’t get a drop
of my sweet water.’
“He spoke quite crossly, and Babiaan was so tame by this time that he was ready to
believe anything, so he lay down, and Jakhals stood over him with his knapsack riem.
“‘Now, Brother, first I’ll tie you with my riem, and then I’ll feed you with the honey.’
“‘Yes, yes,’ said Broer Babiaan quickly.
“His mouth was watering for the honey; he couldn’t think of anything else, and he
had long ago forgotten all about looking after the dam. It goes so, my baasjes, when a
person thinks only of what he wants and not of what he must. So he let Jakhals tie his
hands and feet, and even his tail, and then he opened his mouth wide.
“But Jakhals only danced round and round, sticking his fingers into the pot and
licking them, and singing:
‘Hing-ting-ting! Honna-mak-a-ding!
My sweet, sweet water!’
“‘Where’s mine?’ called Broer Babiaan. ‘You said you would feed me. Where’s my
sweet water?’
“‘Here’s all the sweet water you’ll get from me,’ said Jakhals, and—kraaks—he gave
poor Broer Babiaan a hard hit with the kierie.
“‘Borgom! Borgom! Help!’ screamed Broer Babiaan, and tried to roll away. But there
was no one to help him, so he could only scream and roll over, and each time he
rolled over, Jakhals hit him again—kraaks!
“At last he squeezed the clay pot—and baasjes can believe me it had never had any
honey in it at all—over Broer Babiaan’s head, while he ran off and drank as much
water as he wanted, and swam, and stirred up the mud. Then he took the clay pot off
Broer Babiaan’s head, filled it with water, and danced off, singing:
‘Hing-ting-ting! Honna-mak-a-ding!
My sweet, sweet water!’
“‘Good-bye, Brother,’ he called out. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy the sweet water you’ll get
from Oom Leeuw when he sees how well you have looked after the dam.’

“Poor Old Broer Babiaan was, ach! so miserable, but he was even more unhappy after
Oom Leeuw had punished him and set him on a large stone for the other animals to
mock at. Baasjes, it was sad! They came in a long string, big ones and little ones, and
each one stopped in front of the big stone and stuck out his tongue, then turned round
and stuck out his tail—yes, so rude they were to Broer Babiaan, till the poor old
animal got ashameder and ashameder, and sat all in a heap, hanging down his head
and trying not to see how they were mocking at him.
“When all the animals had passed on and drunk water, Oom Leeuw untied Broer
Babiaan and let him go, and off he went to the krantzes as fast as he could, with his
tail between his legs.
“And that is all for to-night, my baasjes. It is too long to finish now. See, here comes
Lys with the baasjes’ supper, and Outa can smell that his askoekies are burning by the
hut.”
Evading the children’s detaining hands, Outa sidled away, turning in the passage
doorway to paw the air with his crooked fingers in token of a final farewell.

Saved by his Tail.

“The end, Outa, please,” said little Jan, “the end of The Animals’ Dam. You said it
was too long to finish last night.”
“Aja, my baasje, it’s full of jakhals draaie, and that’s why it is so long, but it’s near
the end now.

“The night was old by the time the animals had finished with old Broer Babiaan, and
the stars were going out. Only the Big Star, that lasts the longest, was travelling
quickly by the Stars’ Road to call the Dawn. It began to get light already at the place
where the shining Old Man gets up every day, and that meant it was time for the
animals to fade away to their sleeping-places.
“Oom Leeuw looked round on them. ’Who will look after the dam to-night?’ he
asked.
“‘I will,’ said a little voice, quickly. ‘Peep! peep!’
“‘And who is this that speaks from the ground?’ asked Oom. ‘Let us find this brave
one.’
“They looked about in the sand, and there, under a milk-bush near the dam, sat the
Water Tortoise. He was nice and big, baasjes, as big as the lid of the soap-pot, and his
skinny legs were very strong. He stretched out his skinny neck and twinkled his little
black eyes.
“‘I’ll look after the dam, Oom, and I’ll catch the Water-Spoiler for you.’
“‘Ha! ha! ha! How will you do that?’ asked Oom Leeuw.
“‘If Oom will just let someone rub my back with the sticky black stuff from the floor
of the hives, then Oom will see what will happen.’
“‘This is a wise little man,’ said Oom Leeuw, and he ordered Old Brown Sister
Hyena—she with the limp in the left hind leg—to rub the Water Tortoise with the
sticky stuff.
“That night, my baasjes, when Jakhals went to the dam to drink, he peeped about, but
no! there was no one to guard the dam; only a large black stone lay near the edge of
the water.
“‘Arré! this is lucky,’ said Jakhals. ‘Such a nice large stone! I’ll stand on it while I
drink.’
“He didn’t know that the stone had a strong skinny neck, and, on the end of the neck,
a head with little bright eyes that could see everything that was going on. So he gave
a jump, and—woops!—down he came on to the stone with his two front feet, and
there they stuck fast to the sticky black stuff, and he could not move them. He tried,
and he tried, but it was no use.
“‘Toever!’ he screamed, ‘toever! Let me go!’
“‘Peep! peep!’ said a little voice, ‘don’t be frightened.’
“‘Who says I’m frightened, you old toever stone?’ asked Jakhals. ‘Though my front
feet are fast, I can still kick with my hind feet.’
“‘Kick, kick, kick, and stick fast,’ said the little voice.
“So Jakhals kicked and kicked, and his hind feet stuck fast.
“There was a funny sound under the water, like water bubbling through a reed. It was
the Water Tortoise laughing.
“‘Nier-r-r! nier-r-r!’ said Jakhals, getting very cross; ‘I’ve still got a tail, and I’ll beat
you with it.’
“‘Beat, beat, beat, and stick fast,’ said the little voice.
“So Jakhals beat and beat, and his tail stuck fast.
“‘Nier-r-r!’ he said again, very angry; ‘I’ve still got a mouth, and I’ll bite you with it.’
“‘Bite, bite, bite, and stick fast,’ said the little voice.

“Jakhals opened his mouth, and bit and bit, and his mouth stuck fast. There he was,
all in a bundle, sticking altogether fast to the black stone, and the more he tried to get
free, the more he stuck fast.
“‘Peep, peep!’ said the Water Tortoise, poking up his head and laughing. Then he
marched to the top of the dam-wall where everyone could see the strange sight, and
there he sat, all quiet and good, till the other animals came.
“‘Arré! they were glad when they saw Jakhals sticking to the Water Tortoise. They
held a Council and ordered him to be killed, and Broer Hyena—old Brown Sister’s
husband—was to be the killer.
“They loosened Jakhal’s mouth from the sticky stuff, so that he could talk for the last
time. He was very sorry for himself. His voice was thick with sorriness, and he could
hardly get the words out.
“‘Thank you, Oom,’ he said. ‘I know I’m a wicked creature. It’s better for me to die
than to live and trouble everyone so much.’
“Oom Leeuw and the other animals were wondering what kind of death the Waterstealer
should die.
“‘Chop my head off,’ said Jakhals; ‘throw me in the fountain, but please, ach! please
don’t shave my tail and hit me on the big stone.’
“Oom Leeuw and the others were still putting their heads together.
“‘Beat me with kieries, drown me in the dam,’ said Jakhals, ‘but don’t, ach! please
don’t smear my tail with fat and hit me on the big stone.’
“Oom Leeuw and the others made as if they were taking no notice of him.
“‘Chop me in little pieces, beat me with thorn branches,’ said Jakhals, ‘but please,
ach! please don’t take me by the tail and hit me on the big stone.’
“At last Oom Leeuw turned round.
“‘Just as you say, it shall be done. Shave his tail,’ he said to the others, ‘smear it with
fat, and hit his head on the big stone. Let it be done.’
“So it was done, and Jakhals stood very still and sad while his tail was being shaved
and smeared. But when Hyena swung him round—one, two, three, pht!—away he
slipped and ran over the veld as fast as he could. All the others ran after him, but they
were only running to catch and he was running to live, so he went like the wind, and
soon they were left far behind.
“He never stopped till he came to a mountain where a krantz hung over and made a
kind of cave, and in he crept. The first to come after him was Oom Leeuw, who had
run faster than the others. Jakhals watched Oom crawling in, and when Oom’s head
touched the top of the cave, he ran out, calling:
“‘Oom, Oom, the krantz is falling. If you don’t hold it up, you’ll be crushed to death.
I’ll run and get a pole to prop it up, but Oom must please wait till I come back.’
“He left Oom plastering his head against the krantz to hold it up, while—pht!—he
shot away, and never stopped till he got safe home, where he rolled bolmakissie over
and over, laughing to think how he had cheated all the animals again.”

If someone was assaulting you and you defended yourself causing the death of the person assaulting you, chances are you'd rightly use the defense of 'self defense'. However, if you went home and returned to the scene with a weapon and killed the person who assaulted
you......It's almost a foregone conclusion, you'd probably be charged with murder.

Now let’s take the case of the so called 'poor refugees'.

According to my 'Oxford Dictionary' a refugee is someone who'Escaped to a foreign country from religious or political persecution'.

Let’s take the case of a Muslim escaping from 'where-ever'. They enter Indonesia legally (they are now in a country where their religion is widely practiced). They have escaped from their own country and are now in a country where they are not being hounded for their political or religious beliefs............They're home, they are refugees living in Indonesia.

They decide to leave the sanctuary of Indonesia (remember they are refugees and they entered Indonesia legally). They destroy all their papers, pay big money to jump on a boat and come to the 'lucky country AUSTRALIA' without any papers; upon arrival in Australia they receive all sorts of handouts from the government and if the paint in the refugee camps not the right colour, they can get some smart lawyer (on legal aid) to sue the government on their behalf because the colour is effecting their eyesight.

But hang on a minute, what are they escaping from, they are in Indonesia. No one is persecuting them for their religion, no one is
persecuting them for their political beliefs; they are safe; why would they want to run away from a country that practices their beliefs? Why would they want to go to a country that practices Christian beliefs when they don't want to have anything to do with it?

My gut feeling is: The moment those people step on the boats in Indonesia, they have chosen to 'throw their refugee status away'(they
were/are safe in that country). They also chose to break Indonesia's immigration laws by not filling departure forms in (you and I have
to). I'd like to know why, upon arrival in Australia, are those 'so-called-refugees' not charged with being 'ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS' and thrown on the first available flight out of the country. Remember they 'were' refugees whilst they were in Indonesia, they then chose to get rid of their papers; they chose to leave the country that had given them shelter; they chose to pay someone to transport them to Australia; they chose to get on a boat.

But above all they chose to leave the country that gave them sanctuary 'INDONESIA'.

Why is it, honest hard working Australians have to pay taxes to keep those illegal immigrants (not refugees) in comfort while some
do-gooder lawyer makes money out of the situation by trying to sue the government, to get more money for those ‘illegals’ who shouldn't be in this country in the first place.

This article was written from an Australian point of view, but then I ask the questions, is the situation in South Africa so much different?

Irene posted this piece on the Home Sick South Africans Yahoo Group on 10 September 2003. She had written the article for the South African Club in Perth, Western Australia. We sought her permission to publish it here....thank you Irene for your contribution!

Although I am now living in Australia, where English is the prevalent language, I still find myself using Afrikaans words and expressions, either because there are just no equivalents in English, or the Afrikaans version is so much more pithy.

Often the Australians I speak to are intrigued by the words and find them expressive, even when I give them a censored translation of their meaning. (It depends on the company).

One of these delicious words is "gril". It almost makes you shiver to say it. There's no concise English equivalent - "puts my teeth on edge" is about the nearest, and how cumbersome it is. And "gril" is usually used with rolling of the eyes and expressions of disgust, which just aren't conveyed by the English phrase.

How do you explain the word "sommer" to an Australian? (Or to anyone else, for that matter). It's not only a foreign word, it's a foreign concept. Perhaps the English never do anything "just sommer". But when I've explained it, it's been adopted enthusiastically here. Although there's no Australian equivalent either, they take to the idea of it."Why are you laughing? Just sommer."

"Bakkie" is another one of those useful "portmanteau" words (see - English doesn't have a word for that, either), very useful around the house, for all sizes and shapes of containers and dishes. Also used for what they call "utes" here. I find it an indispensable word.

We all know "voetstoots" of course. It's been officially adopted into South African English. There's no concise, one-word equivalent in English. "As is" just doesn't hack it. And it's such a humorous word, conjuring up images of pushing that brand new car home...

There's no good English word for "dwaal". It doesn't mean dream, or daze. It's close to absent-mindedness, but that's not quite it. Being in one so often myself, I'm not likely to stop using it.

I think "gogga" is the most delightful word for insect I've ever heard.
Children all over the world should use it. "Insect" just doesn't stand a chance.

And I think "moffie" is a far better word than all those embarrassed English attempts at defining a homosexual: gay, queer, poofter, etc. aren't half as expressive. Somehow "moffie" doesn't sound as derogatory either.

And then there's "gatvol". OK, I know it's very rude. But it's so expressive, ne? "Fed up" doesn't have half the impact. It's like blancmange in comparison. "Gatvol" is a word used more frequently than ever in the workplace these days, with increasing intensity.

While we're on the subject, another phrase which outstrips any English attempt is "Hy sal sy gat sien". (Also rude). "He'll get his come-uppance" is like milque toast in comparison. It definitely lacks the relish. (My Billiekie sê sy Pa het altyd gesê: "He does'nt know his ass from a hole in the ground." *S*)

"Donder" is another very useful word, used as an all-purpose swearword, which again has no good English translation. Used as a verb, it can express any degree of roughing up. As a noun, it is a pejorative, as they politely say in dictionaries, to mean whatever you want it to mean.
And there's no good translation for "skiet-en-donder".

It says something about the English that they have no word for "jol". Probably the dictionary compilers regard it as slang, but it's widely used for "Going out on the town, kicking up your heels, enjoying yourself..." (See, there's no English translation) Although curiously, the word "Yule" in Yuletide is related to "jol" and derived from Old English. So somewhere along the line, the English forgot how to "jol".

I've yet to meet a South African over the age of two who doesn't use the word "muti". Translation is impossible - "witches potion" is about the nearest I can get. It needs a long cultural historical explanation .., Between "muti" and the pedantic "medication", there's simply no contest.

And of course, my personal favourite "Kak en betaal", which just says it all, doesn't it? A bland and effete English translation would be "Cough and pay", or "Breathe and pay". But it just doesn't cut it, does it? Not by a long drop.

POST SCRIPT

These are wonderful. Other words that come to mind: jou bliksem, wag 'n bietjie, nie so haastig nie, just now, sakie-sakie music ou swaer, Ya, nee How are you? No, I'm fine thanks?

How do you explain the passion of "LEKKER!"? Wow last night was a "lekker jol"

Dudu or doeks. Telling your infant to go to bed is just not the same as:"Go dudu now my baby!"
 

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