Long ago, when villages lived closely with the rhythms of nature, there was a young man who had grown into adulthood under the care of his mother. Seeing her son mature, the women of the village urged her to find him a wife. “Your son is a man now,” they reminded her. “Do not delay, seek him a wife to build his household.”
Obedient to their advice, the mother went from village to village in search of a suitable bride. In one settlement, a relative welcomed her and asked why she travelled so far. When she explained her purpose, the relative smiled and said, “Why not try here? Near my home lives a family with a fine young woman. She is ready for marriage.”
The arrangement was quickly made, and the marriage followed without delay. The young bride came to live with her husband, and soon their family grew. She bore a son and later conceived again. The villagers praised her as a fruitful woman, yet at the same time, hardship struck. A severe famine spread across the land.
Food was scarce, and hunger pressed on the family. The husband, concerned for his wife carrying their second child and for their firstborn’s survival, suggested they leave in search of food. The wife agreed but urged him toward her parents’ village. “Let us go to my home,” she pleaded. “They often send for us, and I long to see them.”
The next morning, with hope of relief, they set off. Their journey carried them far until hunger overcame their little son, who began to cry. Spotting a fig tree in the distance, the father encouraged them: “Hold on. Soon I will gather fruit for us.”
The figs were few but ripe. The man climbed the tree and shook down branches while his wife collected the fruit for their son. Having exerted himself, he grew terribly thirsty. From the treetop he had noticed a damp hollow that seemed to promise water. He told his wife not to eat until his return so they could share the food together, and then he set off toward the pool.
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The journey was longer than it had appeared. Reaching the spot, he found only dry ground, but he dug deep with sticks and hands until water seeped up. He quenched his thirst and soaked his cloth to bring back for his family. Yet danger lurked. A leopard prowled nearby, and he had to take refuge in a tree until it passed. Delayed but safe, he hurried back.
Meanwhile, the wife grew weary of waiting. Hunger gnawed at her, and in despair she ate the figs one by one until none remained. When the husband returned to find only scraps, his anger boiled. Weak with hunger and blinded by rage, he seized his assegai and stabbed his pregnant wife. She fell, lifeless to the ground.
Shame and horror gripped him instantly. Unable to bear the sight, he abandoned her body, hoisted his young son onto his back, and fled. But from the womb of the slain mother, the unborn child emerged, clutching its umbilical cord. The infant began to run after him, chanting in a voice that pierced the air:
“Father, you wait!
Were you my father, you wait.
Father, who killed my mother, wait.
Father, you wait, just wait.”
The father froze at the sound. The words pierced his heart like spears. He turned and saw the bloodied infant pursuing him, singing the same refrain. Terrified, he ran faster, but still the song followed him, echoing from every direction, north, south, east, and west.
Desperate, he struck the infant down. Yet the voice rose again. He cut the child into pieces and buried them deep in the earth, thinking at last he was free. But the haunting song would not cease.
When he finally reached his in-laws’ village, he was welcomed warmly. His mother-in-law asked after her daughter, and he lied: “She remains behind, heavy with child. When her time has passed, she will visit.” Food was prepared for him, and as he rested, the chilling song grew near once more.
“Father, you wait!
Were you my father, you wait.
Father, who killed my mother, wait.
Father, you wait, just wait.”
The villagers heard the voice but did not understand. Soon the bloodied infant appeared in their midst, cord still clutched in hand, looking like the daughter who was missing. The grandmother’s heart knew the truth. She accused the son-in-law of murder.
The man’s shame darkened his face. He could not deny it. The villagers surrounded him, and with their assegais, they ended his life. His body was thrown to the vultures in the west, a traitor to family and community. As for the miraculous infant, it vanished from sight, leaving only the echo of its song behind.
Moral Lesson
This folktale carries a heavy warning: anger and hunger cannot justify cruelty. The husband’s lack of self-control destroyed not only his wife but also his entire future. Lies cannot bury the truth, for wrongdoing always comes to light. The haunting voice of the infant symbolizes the inescapable nature of guilt and justice, reminding us that betrayal of family and community leads only to ruin.
Knowledge Check
Q1: What caused the family to leave their home?
A famine forced them to seek food and survival elsewhere.
Q2: Why did the husband kill his wife?
Blinded by hunger and rage after finding the figs gone, he stabbed her.
Q3: What is the significance of the baby’s song?
It symbolizes justice, guilt, and the voice of truth pursuing the guilty father.
Q4: How did the villagers learn the truth?
The miraculous infant appeared, resembling its mother, and exposed the crime.
Q5: What punishment did the husband face?
The villagers killed him with assegais and cast his body to the vultures.
Q6: Which culture does this folktale belong to?
It is a Zambian folktale, most closely associated with the Bemba people.
Folktale Origin
Source: Bemba folktales, Folktales of Zambia by Chiman L. Vyas (1969), Zambia
