In which we celebrate love and memories with a Liberian story

The Cow-Tail Switch (Liberia)

Near the edge of the Liberian rain forest, on a hill overlooking a great river, there was a prosperous village. 

There were many cattle in the fields, and many fish in the river, and the gardens grew all the good vegetables that people wanted to eat. 

In this village, with his wife and many children, lived a hunter.

One morning, this hunter took his weapons and went into the forest to hunt.  His family tended the fields and cared for the cattle.  They fished in the river, and they waited, but the hunter didn’t return. 

Days went by, and then weeks, and then a month and still the hunter didn’t come back. The family wondered what could have detained the hunter, but they were very busy with other things.  After a while, they no longer talked about him.

Then one day, the hunter’s last child was born.  This child grew older, and finally he began to talk.  The first thing he said was, “Where is my father?”

The other family members looked at one another.  “Yes,” they said.  “He should have returned by now.  He should have returned long ago.  We should go look for him.”

So they set out to search.  When they were deep among the great trees of the forest, they lost the trail, but then one child or another found it again. 

They continued looking for many days. 

At last, they found a clearing in the forest, and in the clearing were the hunter’s bones.  They knew then that the hunter had died.

One of them stepped forward and said, “I know how we can put a dead person’s bones back together.”  And they all did that.

Another one said, “I have knowledge too. I know how we can cover the skeleton with sinews and flesh.” And they did that.

Another one said, “I have the power to put blood into a body.” And they did that.  And so also did they put breath into the body, and give movement to the body, and give speech back to the body.

The hunter stood up.  “Let us go home,” he said to his family.

They all returned to the village, and the hunter bathed and ate. 

Four days he remained in the house, and on the fifth day he came out and shaved his head, because that is what people did when they returned from the land of the dead.

After that, they killed a cow for a great feast.  The hunter took the cow’s tail and braided it.  He decorated it with beads and cowry shells.  It was a beautiful thing.

Soon, there was a celebration because the hunter had returned from the dead. 

There was a great feast.

The hunter carried his cow-tail switch, and everyone admired it.  Some people grew bold and asked for it, but the hunter refused them all. 

Finally, he stood up to talk.  Everyone came close to listen.

“A long time ago, I went into the forest,” the hunter said.  “While I was hunting, I was killed by a leopard.  My family came for me, and they brought me back from the dead. 

“I shall give this cow-tail switch to the one who did the most to bring me home.”

An argument started.  “He will give it to me,” said one.  “I found the trail in the forest when we were lost!” 

“No, it was I who put the bones together.  I deserve the cow-tail switch.”

“I gave him movement!”  “I gave him speech!”   Everyone wanted that cow-tail switch.

Finally, the hunter stepped forward.  “To this child I will give the cow-tail switch, for I owe most to him,” he said. 

He bent down low, and gave the switch to the smallest child, the one who had been born while his father was gone in the forest.

The people remembered that the child’s first words had been, “Where is my father?”  They knew the hunter was right. 

It is still a saying among them that no person is dead while they are remembered.

Readers are welcome to forward the link to this page, copy/paste the text, re-tell this story over the campfire or the watercooler, and otherwise help it move out into the world.  Please remember that it came to you from Haiku Farm, with love.