The Chameleon and the Hare

A Zulu Tale (that might've been the precursor to Aesop's Tortoise and the Hare).

The Forgotten Creator, Unkulunkulu, whose name is the song of animals and the dance of water over stones, came from the black void beneath the world and was first to touch the roots of the Great Marsh, Uthlanga, from where all things come. The Great Marsh had been sleeping until Unkulunkulu pushed out from beneath, and emerged through the reeds with the sun and moon in each hand, and with the stars beaded from the pores of his forehead.

Having fixed the sky in place, Unkulunkulu turned to the reeds in the Marsh and plucked from them the first man and woman. Delighted with his creation, he returned to the reeds and created the plains for them to wander on and mountains that they might climb and grow strong. Dancing, he fashioned laughter from the wind singing through the reeds and dreams that his people might shake with joy. Then he fashioned the reeds to give the First People the beasts of the sky and land, and filled the marsh with fish that they might fill their bellies and be content.

And when Unkulunkulu created the Chameleon, he gave his newest creation two tails — one always in the past, one always in the future — so that the Chameleon would be Master of Thresholds. Unkulunkulu made the Chameleon his Messenger, for having command over thresholds, no door could be closed to the Chameleon.

When he had given the first people all the animals, crops, rivers, clouds, flowers, medicine and great dances — there was only one gift left: Eternal Life.

So Unkulunkulu called to the Chameleon.

'Bring my people good tidings,' his voice was soft like the purring thunder rolling over the reeds, 'See there above the Moon — waxing and waning — like the moon, you will die, but then like the Moon, you will return and live'.

The Chameleon had great joy in the message and lovingly took the first steps on his journey to the people. The Chameleon was so happy to bring this gift that he took his time, dancing and laughing, delighting in the future of the world.

But Sickness had found its way through the reeds and Unkulunkulu decided the Chameleon was too slow.

Bellerophon and the Sphinx

A Made-Up Greek Tale (that isn't another tragedy).

When the Colossus of Rhodes was a mere glimmer in the eye of Charos of Lindos, there was an exiled Prince of the House of Sisyphus who was given the impossible task of killing the Chimera.

The Prince wept as he knew this would mean his death for the Chimera was a lion, a goat, an eagle and a snake — a creature that had many backs, even more teeth, and whose breath ignited cities.

But Athena, who was Wisdom and Craftiness, had a soft spot for the Prince for his grandfather, Sisyphus, had been the craftiest man to ever live. So Wisdom whispered in the ear of the Sea and in reply, Poseidon brought forth Pegasus — a winged horse who sprung from a spray of sea foam that had touched the blood of Medusa (who had accidentally lost her head).

Wisdom came to the Prince.

'Bellerophon,' she said, 'I give you these three: Pegasus, whose feet are sure and wings are swift; the Shield of Perseus, whose face will protect you from fire; and the Net of Nemesis. This last item is the key to your victory and you must follow this or your death is certain: Tomorrow, you must meet the Chimera in the air and drag her into water, for the Chimera is of fire and will thus be extinguished. There is no other way.'

Bellerophon was relieved and slept soundly. But that night as he lay in bed, the Sphinx came to him.

'My Prince,' the Sphinx cried in a soft voice, 'You ride tomorrow to kill my mother. Is there no room for mercy, my Prince?'

Bellerophon heard the Sphinx in his sleep and his heart sighed. 'I would spare your mother if I could,' he said gently, 'but Wisdom dictates that I cast my net and drag your mother to her drowning — for you see, she cannot live in water, and I cannot live unless I follow these instructions.'

'Ah, a riddle then,' said the Sphinx, who was craftier than even Sisyphus. Bellerophon opened his mind to the Sphinx and she sat in silence till dawn whispered at the edge of the dark.

Finally, the Sphinx solved the riddle.

Sang Nila Utama

A Legend from Singapore.
Twice-discovered Singapore, the Lion City, came quite close to getting its first lion in the second last year of the 13th Century.

Like so many others who cross the face of the Sea in search of home, Sang Nila Utama, a Prince from the Victorious Buddhist Kingdom of Fortuna in old Sumatra (Sri Vijaya), knew with certainty that he had to pay tribute for the journey to come. When it came time to set off, the Prince was meticulous in checking that he had the right gifts in his gold-leaf banana stem vessel.

Three days into his journey, the Sea came to collect her due. The Prince offered her jewelry and song; silk from the Middle Kingdom; spices from Riau; and the sweetest mangosteens from Kadaram*. But the Sea was thirsty for none of his gifts and grew tempestuous. Reluctantly, the Prince threw his crown into the Sea, hoping that this would pacify her.

"No more of your trinkets," the waves swashed menacingly against the sides of his vessel.

"I have nothing more to give," the Prince cried. But in his heart the Prince finally knew the Sea's desire. The only other thing on board was his Lion — red of body and gold of mane — his companion from childhood.

The First Kangaroo

Indigenous Australian Dreamtime Legend.

When the world was young and the hills shook in their sleep, the Sky was still mourning for her lover. Days would turn dark as she screamed, searching for him — her hair a shrieking wind that trailed after her as she ran and kicked up red dust.

In this land, a party of hunters had stopped to find a new trail when the Sky wailed past them. Caught in the storm of her wake, they cowered as the wind tore up the earth; the grass roaring as it scarred the bruised clouds above. In her agitation, the Sky tore at her hair and clumps of it mixed with the red dust and grass to form curious animals that swirled in the storm above. Never had the hunters seen such animals — their small heads and tiny arms, large bodies and tails flailing in the wind.

The animals tried to reach the ground but they were constantly swept away by the force of the storm and the fury of the Sky. The animals, weeping, tucked their children in the seams of their bellies as they sought a way down to the Red Dirt. Their tails grew large to stabilise them; their legs grew long and massive as they stretched to reach the ground — but still, the wind took them.

Pan-Gu (盘古)

Chinese Creation Myth.

At the start of time, Atrophy and the Universe found themselves in a black egg. Within this egg was a slumbering giant who awoke and cracked the egg.

The Universe was first to escape the egg, and in her joy, she gave birth to the Tortoise - who knew the secret to immortality; the Qilin* - who was curious and just; and the Dragon - who was a shaking infant with the strength of thunder.

But then Atrophy emerged from the egg and he chased after the Universe, desiring her. He picked off pieces from her dress - pieces that withered and knew death. The giant, Pan-Gu, saw this from his cracked egg and pushed down on his feet, creating land from the shell of his egg so that the Universe could find her footing. But Atrophy was persistent and he caught the Universe, consuming worlds and bringing death.

In her agony, the Universe gave birth to the Phoenix, who saw the Afterlife and returned for her mother. The Universe leapt on the back of her daughter and they flew away. Pan-Gu saw all this and pushed up with his hands, and the upper half of his shell became the sky, allowing the Universe and her daughter Phoenix to out-fly Atrophy. And as Pan-Gu pushed the sky from the land, he grew and grew and they swung themselves further into the beyond.