One day in Yang-Yang, a small village in The Gambia, a mighty lion and a cunning jinn crossed paths on a dusty road. Each was full of pride, unwilling to admit weakness, and eager to claim the title of the bravest of all beings. The lion, towering and powerful, shook his mane and declared, “Jinn, I am afraid of nothing!” The jinn, sly and mysterious, laughed and replied, “I too fear nothing except a waxambaané, a young man in the prime of his strength, a man between thirty and forty years old whose hair has not yet turned grey.” The lion scoffed at the idea, raising his head with confidence. “As for me, I can kill a waxambaané without hesitation,” he said boldly. “Good,” replied the jinn, his eyes glinting. “Tonight, you shall see for yourself. We will put your bravery to the test.”
The jinn proposed they travel toward Thiévaly, a small village just three kilometers from Yang-Yang, where young men often passed in the evenings. The lion, eager to prove his strength, agreed without hesitation. Together they journeyed under the fading light of the evening, the jinn walking lightly and the lion’s heavy paws leaving deep marks in the earth.
When they reached the road between the two villages, the jinn instructed the lion to lie down by the side of the path. “Wait here,” he said. “The waxambaané will soon pass by.”
As night fell, the moon hung low and silver, casting pale shadows across the road. Groups of young men left Yang-Yang after dinner, heading toward Thiévaly to meet the pretty girls for which the village was known. Their laughter and chatter echoed into the night. The lion raised his head and asked, “Jinn, are these the men you fear?” But the jinn shook his head and whispered, “No, these are waxambaanes, true, but not the one I dread. Lie down again.”
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Hours passed, and more groups of youths made their way along the road. Each time, the lion lifted his head, hopeful that the challenge had come, and each time the jinn told him to wait. At last, when midnight drew near and the night air grew still, a lone waxambaané appeared. He was tall and strong, walking with a steady stride. Unlike the others, he carried weapons that glinted in the moonlight. Slung across his body were a muzzle-loading gun, a sharp lance, a gleaming cutlass, a razor, and a heavy saber. In his hands, he carried a massive stick, which he wielded like a hammer.
The jinn’s eyes narrowed. “Lion, wake up,” he said, his voice low but tense. “Here comes the true waxambaané. Listen, hear the clatter of his weapons, the thud of his stick upon the ground. This is the man I fear.”
The lion snorted, but doubt stirred within him. “I am afraid only of his gun,” he confessed.
“Do not be afraid,” the jinn assured him. “If he fires, I will catch the bullets in the air before they can touch you.”
The lion hesitated, then muttered, “I also fear his lance.”
“Fear not,” replied the jinn. “If he thrusts it at you, I will seize the shaft before it strikes.”
The lion shifted uneasily. “And his saber, I fear that blade as well.”
“I will protect you,” the jinn promised. “Each time he swings the saber, I will stop it from cutting you.”
But when the lion mentioned the great stick, the jinn’s face changed. His voice dropped. “That,” he admitted, “I cannot stop. The stick alone is my fear.”
The lion, too proud to retreat, crouched low. When the waxambaané drew near, the lion leapt into the road, roaring three mighty roars that shook the silence of the night. Dust rose around him, and his golden eyes locked on the man.
The waxambaané did not flinch. He raised his gun and fired. Seven bullets flew from the barrel, but the jinn, true to his word, caught each one in mid-air and held them in his hand. The lion charged, but the man stepped back and thrust his lance. The jinn seized the shaft before it struck. Again, the man retreated and swung his saber, but the jinn stopped the blade before it cut.
Then the lion lunged with full force, ready to crush the man beneath his weight. In that moment, the waxambaané lifted his massive stick high and brought it down with all his strength upon the lion’s skull. The blow was so great that the beast’s head split, and its brains spilled from its nose and mouth. The mighty lion collapsed lifeless on the road.
The jinn, seeing this, cried out in terror. “What I foretold has come to pass! Only a waxambaané can strike fear in me. He has done what neither beast nor spirit can withstand.” With that, the jinn fled at top speed into the darkness, vanishing into the unseen world.
Moral Lesson
This tale teaches us that pride often blinds both the strong and the cunning. The lion believed himself invincible, while the jinn trusted too much in his tricks. Yet both were humbled by the courage and determination of a single man. True strength is not found in boasting or supernatural tricks but in steady bravery and the will to face challenges head-on.
Knowledge Check
Q1: Who were the main characters in this Gambian folktale?
The lion, the jinn, and the waxambaané (a strong young man).
Q2: Why did the lion and the jinn argue?
They argued about which of them was the bravest and feared nothing.
Q3: What weapons did the waxambaané carry?
He carried a gun, lance, cutlass, razor, saber, and a heavy stick.
Q4: How did the jinn protect the lion during the fight?
The jinn caught bullets, seized the lance, and stopped the saber from cutting.
Q5: What weapon defeated the lion in the end?
The waxambaané’s great stick, which crushed the lion’s head.
Q6: What is the main lesson of the story?
Pride and arrogance lead to downfall; true strength is in courage and resilience.
Folktale Origin Source: Mandinka folktale, The Gambia (as told by Samba Atta Dabo of Yang-Yang).
