Shownotes Transcript
This week on Myths and Legends, it's a story from Ghana about what happens when a ruler flirts with tyranny. They get plagued by a snarky talking baby. The creature this week has a deal with St. Patrick. It's a giant bird with an all-you-can-torment buffet of sinners. And also maybe lost tourists. This is Myths and Legends, episode 407, Wiser.
This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen. Today's story comes to us from West Africa, from the Dagara people in northern Ghana. It's closer to a fairy tale, since there's nothing of religious significance and no historical connection, but it's a story of what happens when a chief takes his power too far.
He goes up against a snarky talking baby. The woman was not yet a mother. All that was going to change momentarily, she realized, unexpectedly, on her walk back home from the field where she was farming. Her water broke. Then the contractions.
I'm honestly amazed by anyone giving birth ever, but she did it alone. No servants, no husband there. She knew the basics and had a knife on hand and she pushed. And soon, but not soon enough, the baby was born. She scooped him up from the floor, severed the umbilical cord, and lay there with the baby in her arms, unable to move. Her husband was off in the trees cutting wood. How would she get to him and tell him that she had given birth alone in their house?
How would she tell them that she needed help? Oh, no worries, Mom. I can go get him, she heard. She looked down to the smiling baby. Oh, okay, talking baby. You go do that, the mom said, and might have worried that she was hallucinating from the shock or that she had lost a lot of blood.
But whatever it was, as she heard the messy, naked baby walking from the room and closing the door behind him, she was happy that help was on the way. So, where are we going? The baby asked a few days later as they walked along the path in the relative cool of the morning. How can he talk? The dad asked. How can you talk? We're going to the chief, dear. The mother held her son close. There was a naming ceremony.
The chief in this region got to choose the names of all the children. Why does he get to do that? Naming is a big deal. The names of all the people shouldn't be in the hands of one man, the baby retorted. He gets to do that because he has the guys with the axes, dad shot back, and then circled back to his original subject. We're not going to address why the baby can talk and walk and find me among the trees when he's just minutes old, the dad said. Nope, nothing? Cool,
The small family traveled the rest of the way in silence until they reached the compound of the chief. "It was a special day," so said the chief. "The people would come together and celebrate a new baby in the village, and the chief would give that baby a name. It was definitely that the chief wanted to get everyone together to celebrate babies,
Not at all that the guys in the front with the spears wanted to assert their power over everyone, down to the very names of their subjects. So the chief told the new parents to bring their baby boy to the front, to be named. Oh, you know, thanks, but no thanks. Who said that? The chief looked around. The guys to either side of him gripped their weapons. Oh, that's the baby. The baby can talk already, the mother said.
The chief was puzzled. How can the baby talk? Right, the dad pointed out. I already have a name, the baby stated. The chief said that that was cute, but the chief named everyone in this village, and he, the chief, didn't name the baby, so vis-a-vis QED, the baby didn't have a name. Sure I do, the baby grinned. I am called Yengena.
Wiser than the chief. It means wiser than the chief. The room burst into laughter. The chief, however, was not laughing. Interesting name the kid had there. And why did he call himself that? The baby laughed for real. It was the chief was asking that. I mean, it's kind of right there in the name. I mean, I guess, though, what could be a better demonstration of the name?
The chief forced a smile. Very funny, very funny. Well, it seemed that this child already had a name, one that he would carry for the rest of his life. Wiser than the chief grinned and nodded, and the mother carried him from the chief's compound. "That went surprisingly well." The dad clapped his hands together on the way home. The chief even let the kid keep his name. That was really unexpected.
He's gonna kill our son. The mother didn't look back at the husband, trailing behind her, celebrating their win that was not a win. What? No, the father said, and then thought about it a little more. Father's right. I disagree, the baby said. The chief wouldn't kill him. He would, however, try to kill him. Okay, we have to kill that kid. No wrong answers. What was everybody got? The chief said, back at the compound.
About half his guys, mainly the ones with the weapons, agreed. The other half, they weren't so sure. I notice a few of you aren't nodding as vigorously as the others. Explain yourselves, the chief demanded, following a sharp inhale and a sigh. The holdout said, well, okay, look, there were hundreds of people in the villages, right? The chief said that was true. He ruled over a massive domain.
Snapping his finger, the man pointed, yes. And there were, what, 50 guys here? See what he's getting at? The chief didn't rule out of force, but out of control, out of fear, respect. He protected the people and soft implied that if they didn't provide him with some form of tribute, that he would turn the protection force on them. The chief nodded, yes, none of this was news. But if you kill a baby because the baby said he was wiser than you...
I'm gonna be real. It looks like you're afraid of the baby, the advisor said, hyper aware that the guys with the weapons were getting more and more tense. The man sighed. And then the whole thing kind of falls apart. Because if the chief is afraid of a, I mean, frankly, adorable talking baby who punches up in all the right ways and has his cute little chubby finger on the pulse of what the people want to hear, why should they respect the chief?
By not responding, the chief acknowledged that the man had a point. So he continued. He proposed that the chief, yes, absolutely, execute the child, but do it because the child was a liar. The chief nodded. Okay. He was starting to understand. Yeah. All right, call them back, the chief demanded. The friend's eyes widened. What?
Yeah, call them back. I'm going to challenge the baby to a battle of wits, the chief said. As a few guys rushed out to call the family back, his friend closed his eyes and breathed. Did the chief not see the problem with that very sentence? Challenge the baby to a battle of wits. And what? He wins and congrats. He beat a baby in a battle of wits.
But if he lost, the guys with the spears took a step forward. He wouldn't lose, of course, the advisor clarified. But if he did, that was even worse. He would all but prove the baby's name correct and demonstrate an immense amount of weakness. You wanted to see me, Yangana, which translates to wiser than the chief, Yangana said. The chief blinked. Yes, he knew what it translated to. But
He wanted to test Yangana to see if he was really wiser than the chief. He's a baby? Even the boy's father could see that this was not the best in terms of optics. But the baby agreed. Yeah, sure. He would be happy to. The chief whispered to one of his friends who nodded and returned with a palm nut. Let's have a drink, the chief said. He's a baby, the mother said. I want some palm wine.
The chief held out the palm nut to the baby, where it was almost the size of his fist. He wanted it from the tree grown with that nut. The boy nodded, no problem. I want it by tonight. The chief growled with a smile. Unfazed, the baby smiled back. Well, that was the challenge, wasn't it? Yengenah told the chief to wait there. There were preparations that they needed to make before they could have that drink together.
The mother put Yengenod down, and the baby waddled from the room. "'You're not drinking,' the dad said. "'He's not drinking. He's a baby,' he told the chief, who seemed certain that the boy would not be drinking, but for the reason that he couldn't plant a tree, grow it, tap it, and then ferment a palm wine in about twelve hours, and also that he would be dead. He toddled on his little baby legs, climbing up the steps all adorable, until he stood before the chief with something in his tiny baby hand.
The chief held out his own hand, and a calabash seed dropped in it. Grandfather, here's a seed for you to grow a calabash to drink your wine from. The chief's smile faded, as the baby, loud enough for the room, said he would be happy to pour wine for the chief. When the chief grew his calabash gourd in a day,
For the people assembled there, everyone was astonished by how quickly the baby turned the chief's obviously impossible request into something akin to a self-own. This doesn't get rid of the requirement for you to bring me my wine.
The chief glowered. The baby, Yangana, said, absolutely, and he totally could. It was almost ready, but he just needed something to pour it into. And since it was definitely possible for him to grow a tree and tap and ferment wine in a day, it should be no problem for the chief to grow his gourd, which was objectively easier. The chief sighed and took a deep breath. You know what? He wasn't feeling like that drink after all. Never mind.
The baby could go home. Which baby? Yangana looked around. Is he here in the room? What's his name? The chief groaned. The baby? Yangana, wiser than the chief. I told you, a battle of wits with a baby. What were you thinking? The chief's friend said as the family left.
We'll see the chief that decided to challenge a baby to a battle of wits continue to make poor decisions. But that will be right after this. So because he changed schools, our son actually missed like a year of writing. The school worked on it the previous year, so he came in behind. And so we were like, yeah, he's the child of two writers. He should know how to write an essay. Well, he's currently in an out-school writing class, and they've been meeting over the past several weeks, and...
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Your well-being is worth it. Visit betterhelp.com slash myths to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp, H-E-L-P, dot com slash myths. Yingena had been allowed to live past infancy. And while both his name and existence were a problem for the chief, he didn't cause much trouble beyond that. So while he grew, he kept a relatively low profile, but he always remained a point of shame for the chief, a weak spot.
This kid had to fight him in front of everybody and lived. And now he was old enough to face the consequences of his actions, mainly because beating a teenager in a battle of wits was way more impressive than beating a baby. So riding in his litter to Yunganah's father's farm, the chief found the young man working with the cattle. The chief greeted the boy and said that he had something of a present for the young man. Here. The boy shrugged. Okay. A bull. Thanks.
So, accepting a gift from a man you've publicly shamed, and who visibly loathes you, not a great idea. Yangana learned this roughly 16 months later, when the chief returned and, surveying the field of cattle, nodded. Alright, round them up, boys.
Angadna called his family, and the young man demanded to know. What was the chief doing? The chief laughed. Well, all these cattle were his. His bull gave birth to them. Duh.
Okay, so there's power and then there's power. The ability to not just make people do something, but to say or do something absolutely absurd and then have the people agree with it and give you everything. That's an all-encompassing, dangerous power. And that was what the chief did. The parents agreed that his young male bull gave birth to their entire herd, their entire life savings, essentially.
and let the chief and his men take them. The boy stood there, watching his parents weeping, and the chief sneering, as all their cattle were led away. I'm sorry, what is that? The chief pointed over his shoulder. Uh, wood chopping, I guess. His advisor looked to the others. Someone was chopping wood from the chief's land? The chief arched his eyebrows, and... and...
And we're not supposed to do that. No one is supposed to do that, the advisor shot up. Outside, dozens of supplicants who were waiting on the chief watched him fly from the compound. And trailing the dust that trailed the chief and his friends, the supplicants saw Yangana. Yangana, the boy with the audacious name, was chopping trees on the chief's land.
They all liked the kid. Snarky talking babies are a genre unto themselves, and everyone low-key resented being squeezed by the chief. No one wanted Yangana to die, but that kid was gonna die. "'What do you think you're doing?' the chief asked. "'Oh, hi, chief,' Yangana said. "'It's me. Wiser than the chief. "'Yes, I know,' the chief blurted out. Now the young man was gonna answer his questions. "'Why was he here cutting the chief's wood?'
"'Oh, turns out I'm a big brother. My dad just gave birth.' Yangana resumed chopping at the tree. The crowd chuckled. The chief fumed. "'Am I a joke to you? Your dad giving birth? Your dad can't give birth. He's a man. Shoot!' The chief winced. Yangana smiled. "'So a male can't give birth?'
"'So, if we're backing up a little bit,' Yangana stood and started pacing, "'what you're saying is that you were incorrect when you said that your male bull—' "'And I realize that's redundant. I'm doing it for effect. "'Your male bull gave birth to my parents' entire herd.' The chief nodded. "'And you'll give them all back?' Yangana wasn't looking at the chief, but at the crowd.'
The crowd who was only now hearing the chief's paper-thin justification for taking a family's wealth. The chief followed his gaze and saw that there were way, way more people here than he had guards. He clasped his hands and smiled. Of course, he was sorry for the mistake, he said through a clenched jaw. Hey, wiser than the chief, Yenkin not heard a few months later.
It was one of the chief's goons, a big guy, leading a baby cow. Yengena greeted the man, but his smile was not reciprocated. Chief has a job for you, big honor. Rear this butter cow. The man shoved the lead into Yengena's hand and turned. Um, kay. Yengena felt the cow was smeared in shea nut butter. And why was the cow covered in butter?
Oh, well, the chief said, quote, if you're so much wiser, you should be able to raise that cow without melting the butter. Ha ha ha. And if he doesn't, he's a liar and we can kill him. OK, go go take the cow. What are we doing for lunch today? We've been doing a lot of takeout and I'm really feeling you're still here. Why are you still here? Take him the cow. End quote. The goon said ominously.
All right, tell him I'll be back in a few months with the grown cow covered in unmelted shea butter. End quote, please. You can go back to the chief now. Only tell him the relevant stuff I said, though, please. You can go back to the chief now. Only tell him the relevant stuff I said, please. The goon said to the chief, who thought he should really consider another message guy because this one was like always having a hot mic on. Still, it would be good to finally have this kid out of the way and wait,
Where did the sun go? You see, Yengenah had rushed straight home to get this calf out of the sun and immediately led the calf into the house. Inside, with his mother frying something over the stove, he swore, no, it was still too hot in here. He explained what the chief was up to, and his mother listened while she cooked the neary seeds, which were small white seeds. Okay,
Well, the best she could think of was the Valley of Shade. But this was Ghana in the summer, with daytime temps in the high 80s, low 90s Fahrenheit, and nighttime temperatures in the high 70s. And the Valley of Shade didn't have anything for the calf to graze on. That sun, that was a problem. Ngengana nodded and pointed, yes, the sun was the problem. He smelled the frying seeds. Could he have some of those?
The calf was at home while the father fanned it to keep it as cool as possible. But soon, that wouldn't be a problem. He took some of the neri seeds out and crunched them. They tasted as good as they smelled. They were the perfect bait for... You got neri seeds, Yengena heard behind him. You know it. He turned to face father's son. The actual S-U-N son who greeted Yengena. The son smiled.
"'How's he doing?' All the while, the son reaching out his hand. Yangana laughed awkwardly. "'Give me that.' Father-son reached toward the bag, joking but not joking. Yangana asked if father-son wanted some of his fried neary seeds. Father-son half thought about it. "'You know what? He would.' "'All right. Sure.' Yangana opened the bag, and the son's face lit up, which was impressive because it's the son.'
and he said he was just gonna have a little bite. "'I'm gonna eat the rest of this bag,' Father Sun said, a few moments later, climbing into the bag of fried seeds so he could get at the ones in the bottom. "'You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?' Father Sun asked. "'Tell them that I housed an entire bag of fried seeds down at the Valley of Shade?' "'No, no, I'm not gonna tell anyone,' Yangana said. But he did think that people were gonna find out.'
"'How?' father-son asked, but quickly realized when the bag cinched shut. In about another ten minutes, when he was out of seeds, he was really mad. And he wasn't the only one. "'It was just the middle of the day, right?' the chief asked the guy who returned from giving Yengena his calf. Waving more people in, the chief said it was just day, right?'
What's going on? One guy shrugged. Eclipse? Though it's been like 20 minutes and it's still dark. That's probably not an eclipse. As the day, if it could still be called that, wore on and the people began to shiver, the chief knew. He knew that Yengena had something to do with this. And he wasn't wrong, of course. He found Yengena letting his calf graze in the fields.
Yangana and his family shivering despite being piled with blankets. Yangana waved, "'Hey, chief, it's me!' The chief shook his head, "'Don't you say it!' He knew who the kid was. "'Wiser than the chief,' Yangana, a.k.a. Wiser than the chief, waved. He thanked the chief for the calf. He was getting some good grazing in while he could. Don't know how frost-tolerant the plants and crops in Ghana were, but the answer was probably not very. "'What did you do?' the chief demanded."
Yangana gestured to the sack, the human-sized sack sitting by the edge of their house. It was glowing and putting out some serious warmth. "'I didn't house an entire bag of fried seeds,' the sack said. "'Tell him, Yangana, he didn't house an entire bag of fried seeds.' Yangana shook his head. "'He walked into a bag and got trapped all on his own.'
That's not a better look, you know. Yanganao called back to father-son. Let the son go, the chief demanded. Well, I have to raise this calf and not let the shea nut butter melt, so... The chief groaned. Whatever. He saw an adult cow. Great job. Mission accomplished. Yanganao walked over, undid the sack, and let father-son out. He emerged with a face and hands smeared with fried seeds...
and he pointed at the sky as the men watched awkwardly. He should get back to it. All right, bye. We'll see the gloves finally come off, but that will, once again, be right after this. Hey,
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The chief paced. This was it. He had to kill this kid. The others told him to just let it go. But yeah, I mean, now they could probably, he's barely a kid anymore. They could probably just do it. And the chief said, okay, uh, straight up execution. But the advisor said he might need a little more tact. You see, among the normal people, Yanganao was still something of a hero. So they couldn't quite straight up murder him.
they would have a group of hired goons straight up murder him. Hi, the chief. Yangana's father said when the chief arrived at their house, I'll go get Yangana. I'm assuming you're here to try to trick him into failing as a pretense to justify his summary execution. The chief said no. He realized the error of his ways. He was hiring the young man as a bodyguard for his son.
"'Mm-hmm,' the dad said. "'Yeah, one minute. He go get Yangana.' "'This is a high honor!' the chief shouted. "'And Yangana agreed. Oh, definitely. You're joining my royal guard. I'm trusting you with my life, my son's life. Big deal, this!' The chief nodded and bit his lip. "'Yep. Oh, so big!' Yangana agreed.'
"'Uh, when did he start?' "'Oh, tomorrow. My son needs to be escorted to a nearby village, and you're just the man to do it,' the chief pointed. "'See you tomorrow morning at sunrise.' Bright and early, Ying and Na walked up to the beautiful, tall, majestic horse and the donkey.
I am such a massive fan, the prince said to Yangana, grinning. His dad was the worst. And he was a toddler when Yangana was a baby, so he wasn't around for the sassy talking baby bit, but it was legendary. He hoped that, when his father, you know, was gone, they could be friends. Yangana said he hoped that too. Hey, um...
He was a little worried. He thought that the prince's dad, the chief, is trying to murder you? Absolutely, yes. It is all he talks about lately. He has all these ominous late-night meetings with what can only accurately be described as his henchmen. You're really living rent-free in his head, the prince replied. Just once again, like, you're amazing. One day, he dreamed of getting under his father's skin the way Yangana did.
Yangana said he guessed he was born to oppose despotic goons. If the chief hadn't tried to assert his authority over Yangana's name, then he wouldn't have been a problem. I know, right? Like, I'm so annoyed that he named me. The prince snorted. Well, I mean, you're his kid, so that kind of makes sense. Yangana pointed to the horse and donkey, so they were going to the next village?
It was supposed to be like a bodyguard or something? Oh, that's a trap. The prince laughed. Yangana nodded. Yeah, that felt obvious. He made his move for the donkey when the prince said, um, he was actually supposed to ride the donkey. And Yangana was supposed to have the horse? Why? Yangana asked. The prince was the son of the chief. Shouldn't he have this like beautiful, majestic horse?
"Is that the thing? Is the horse the trap?" The prince looked at it. "Not that he knew. It was his horse." "Maybe it's like a way to turn public opinion away from me?" "Whatever it is, I'm not riding that horse." Ying'enau pointed. The prince laughed. It was all good. He would ride his own horse. It was a cool morning as the pair rode.
They had led different lives, but found in the other an understanding friend. Despite being a few years older than Yangana and physically higher, the prince looked up to Yangana. Yangana was someone who had lived his whole life working not just against the same forces that every other farmer in the area faced, poverty, weather, thieves, but the chief himself, trying to outwit Yangana and the kid winning every single time.
Gingena was always happy to meet a fan, but the whole ride, he kept his mind working on just what the trick could be this time. And when the men emerged from the trees with axes and clubs, he knew. So did the prince, who laughed. There it was. That was it, the attempt. Gentlemen, I'm the son of the chief. Stand down, the prince said to the advancing men, but they kept coming.
A chill crept up Yangana's spine because, though the prince laughed, the men surrounded his horse. Yangana realized it the moment they grabbed him by his robes. These were hired killers from another village. They had no idea who the prince was. They thought that he was Yangana. The prince only feared for a moment.
In panicked indignation, when one of the men dared to wrench him from his horse, he barked out for them to stop right before they threw him on the ground and started him with the axes and clubs. Accompanied by wet thuds, the men turned to Yingena and bowed. They would escort him back to his father. Because I'm the prince, that's who I am. It's me. Yingena didn't dare look at what remained of the chief's son. He said he would...
He'd go on his own. He galloped all the way back home. We should move, right? The dad said to the small family. He honestly didn't know why they stayed this long. We'll be fine, Yangana said. The chief seemed okay. The father replied that no, he wasn't okay. You're not okay after that. The chief was plotting something and a young man was killed right in front of Yangana's eyes. None of this was okay.
"'Oh, he's plotting something, right, Mom?' Yangana said, and his mother nodded. "'He's plotting a very lovely dinner.' Yangana looked outside and squinted. "'Okay, he's on his way. Are we ready?' His mother nodded again. "'Ready for what? What are you two plotting? Why is everyone always plotting around here but me?' The dad whined. Outside, a messenger from the chief said that the chief wanted to have Yangana over for a feast."
Yang and I waited for the rest of the man's statement. Oh, wait, that was a different guy. Yeah, the guy who never knew when to stop reporting what people said. He was fired, or rather, set on fire.
I think the chief is going through some stuff. Anyway, dinner tonight, the man smiled and left. At the chief's compound, his closest friends and advisors were circled around cushions and a seat of honor on the floor at the middle of the dwelling. The chief walked up to Yengena as he arrived and yeah, the chief was not doing well. His eyes were bloodshot and bagged, his hand trembling and his smile strained.
He said he was so happy to see the young man, Yangana, wiser than the chief. Did I, are we good? Yangana asked. The chief smiled. He realized their little feud had cost him everything. It was time that he accepted that Yangana truly was wiser than him. Yangana sighed. He was glad the chief could finally admit it.
He embraced the man and, after that, the chief directed him to the cushions at the center. This banquet, with rice and boiling soup and boiling wine, it was for the chief to say that he had learned and he was sorry. Yangana said he couldn't possibly sit in the seat of honor, but the chief insisted. Please, this seat.
Right here. These cushions and furs piled in the middle of the room where no one has ever sat before on the floor. Yangana walked over. The chief had that still strained smile. Yep, that's the one. All right, so I just, I sit down here right on this chair that you prepared for me. Yangana pointed. Yep, that's generally what you do with seats. The chief watched him eagerly. All right, sitting down.
Niengana straight up dropped back onto the cushions and dropped down into the hole. Ha ha ha! I'm not sorry, and I haven't grown, and I haven't learned anything. The chief laughed. For the past week, the people closest to the chief, so his inner circle, have been digging. No one outside his circle could be trusted because of how much the village lost.
loved young enough. So, for days, men who hadn't done manual labor in years had to dig a hole. And if you haven't done that in a while or ever, digging a hole is actually very hard. Digging one deep enough to kill a snarky former baby is very impressive. The chief, though, wasn't going to risk it all on a fall.
All that boiling soup and wine? Well, the chief motioned for some of his warriors, who wheeled the cauldron in and dumped it. Yengen-Na didn't even have time to scream before he was drowned in boiling soup. Send for the boy's parents. My retribution will be swift, the chief said. A messenger nodded and took off in a run. And he returned, breathless. But not because he had jogged a few hundred meters to the boy's house, but
but for what he had seen there. He said it was impossible. Hey, chief, Yangana waved. When the chief arrived at Yangana's house to see what his messenger was talking about, he took another bite of his beans. He hoped the chief wasn't mad about him eating. The soup at the bottom of the hole was a bit too hot for him. The chief shook, and after a few brief moments of panic, he bowed. He bowed to Yangana.
He didn't know how the man did it, how Yangana not only bested him at every turn, but came back from the dead. Yangana could keep his name because he truly was wiser than the chief. Mm-mm, Yangana shook his head. The chief sighed. You know what? No, you're right. He was right. He, the chief, didn't have the right to name the children. The people could choose their own names for their kids.
He had stretched his power too far, and Yengena was some force from heaven sent to punish him for his hubris. Of course, Yengena wasn't, probably. We still don't know why he could talk as a baby. But when it comes to the chief and coming back from the dead, Yengena had a man on the inside, or a men on the inside.
Over half of the chief's friends and advisors were tired that they had spent over half their life trying to kill a snarky baby. Their plan was to use the chief's plan to kill Yangana to kill the chief. Yangana was to push him into that hole. Right until Yangana volunteered and sat down himself, even though they told him it was coming and that everyone would support his bid for chief. They had no idea that Yangana and his mother had been in the same boat for so long.
had used the old mines to connect the bottom of the hole to an outlet, a half mile away. Yingana, though, makes his own choices, and rather than perpetuate the violence that led to the chief's control over the villages, he was going to break the cycle. He wanted the chief to learn and change, and the chief did. From then on, he worked with the people of the village, instead of violently controlling them.
And everyone flourished. All because a baby had been born that was wiser than the chief. TED-Ed did a really good take on the story. It's animated and I posted it in the show notes and on the site. The whole check on tyranny is really just a cultural value of the Dagara, reasserting itself.
Because the people believe that authority is derived from community consensus rather than raw power, and leaders are expected to act in the community's well-being, not only their own. Naming, too, is super important because names have symbolic meaning and convey identity and have spiritual significance. So a leader taking control of your name would be essentially taking control of what you are and what you're going to be.
And the whole thing is about how wisdom and kindness are above strength and power. Next week, we're back in Arthurian legend. And I guess we're keeping up with the West African theme for next week with a story of a Knight of the Round Table from Africa. That will be two weeks from now on Myths and Legends. If you'd like to support the show, there's still a membership thing on the site.
For less than the price of a Grim Steeper, a little Grim Reaper that sits in your teacup as a steeper, you can get extra episodes and ad-free versions of the show that might remind you of your own mortality, but don't stare at you with little creepy empty eye sockets. Check out mythpodcast.com slash membership or find the show on Apple Podcasts for more info on the membership. The creature this time is the Cornu from Irish Legend.
So you might not know it, but St. Patrick, yes, that St. Patrick, was plagued by demons. Well, demon. There was probably more than one, but this one is the most famous. Because he was pretty solidly owned by St. Patrick. Yeah, I mean, I'm not telling him how to do his job or anything, but he apparently wasn't punching his weight by messing with a man who's kind of a major country's most famous saint.
So that's how the cornu was turned into a giant black bird, which is not unprecedented in the Christian faith. Jesus sent demons into a herd of pigs. They then drowned themselves. But unlike those demons, the cornu, he was down with it. You see, he and St. Patrick had a bit of an understanding. St. Patrick didn't want him hassling the faithful, which absolutely included him, St. Patrick, but Jesus.
tormentors are going to torment. And it didn't hurt to have someone who was willing to get their hands and, I guess, wings and claws a little dirty to redirect people back to that narrow path with torment. Enter St. Patrick's Purgatory. It's in Loch Dern, Ireland, and apparently Christ showed St. Patrick that it was the entrance to purgatory.
I've never been, but a priest from the 12th century, Gerald of Wales, gave us a little description. There seem to be two parts of the island. One where the church is built and where people do pilgrimages even to this day is quite pleasant. The other half is full of rugged crags and is home to devils only.
Or so says Gerald. So if you happen to wander over there, you'll see devils doing devil stuff. Like, quote, tormenting people all night long with unutterable sufferings, with water and fire, and leaving them a husk of themselves with only the scantest spark of life left in their wretched body. It's something of a cosmic scared straight program. And that's where the Kornu now lives, in the form of a giant black bird.
he gets to torment anyone unfortunate enough to have i guess a life of sin that leads him to that half of the island or hopefully not a lost tourist there is an upside though after experiencing all that and learning that hell is in fact worse people decide to leave their life of sin behind to avoid such a terrible fate except for according to gerald
the ones that don't. That's almost a direct quote. Really casting a wide net there, Gerald. Making sure all your bases are covered. That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.
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