The tale of the boy who tricked a tyrant - Paschal Kyiiripuo Kyoore

Shock seized the West African Dagara village as word traveled of a new decree. Completely disregarding time-honored naming rituals, the tyrannical chief declared that, going forward, he alone would name the village’s children. But an unlikely challenger eventually appeared...

One day, a mother was taking her newborn to the chief’s house to be named when her baby asked where they were going from his crib. She told him, and he responded that they could return home because he already had a name and it was Yagangnaa, meaning “wiser than the chief.” So, they did just that.

Years later, while hunting lizards near the chief's house, a friend called Yagangnaa’s name, which caught the chief’s attention. He knew he hadn't given any child a name that insulted his own authority. When he asked Yagangnaa who named him, and the boy replied that he named himself the chief grew furious. He committed himself to proving his superiority— and punishing Yagangnaa’s family.

First, he called on Yagangnaa and gave him a huge basket full of millet and pebbles. He told Yagangnaa to have his mother brew “pito,” or millet beer, by the end of the day, so the chief could entertain his farm workers. Upon hearing the chief’s orders, Yagangnaa’s mother wept. It was impossible to separate the millet from the pebbles. And everyone knew it took weeks to make pito: the millet had to be soaked, dried, ground, boiled, then fermented in days-long stages.

So, Yagangnaa decided to retaliate with another insurmountable task. He sent the chief gourd seeds and asked him to prepare calabash cups that same day to hold the pito his mother was making. The chief would have to wait for the seeds to germinate and the plants to bear fruit, then harvest, carve, and dry them— the work of an entire farming season all in one day.

Realizing Yagangnaa was onto him— and one step ahead— the chief ordered him to return the millet. Next, he instructed Yagangnaa to look after his bull until it produced enough cattle to fill his kraal and pay his sons’ bridewealths. Without protesting that he’d need a cow, not a bull, to do this, Yagangnaa agreed.

The next day, he began cutting dry wood near the chief's house. When the chief asked what he was doing, Yagangnaa said he needed wood to cook and warm his house because his father had just delivered a baby. The chief laughed and said that was impossible, to which Yagangnaa asked why it should be impossible for his father to deliver a child if the chief thought his bull was going to produce cattle.

One-upped once again, the chief ordered Yagangnaa to return the bull— and decided to take extreme measures. He told Yagangnaa to accompany his son on an errand and provided him a beautiful horse and expensive clothes. Meanwhile, the chief's own son wore tattered clothing and rode a weak horse.

Sensing the chief's new trick brewing, Yagangnaa offered to trade with the chief’s son, who agreed. But the chief had given his men grisly orders. And moments later, a poisoned arrow flew towards the well-dressed boy on the beautiful white horse, striking and killing the chief’s son while Yagangnaa escaped.

Ever fixated on eliminating Yagangnaa, the defiant boy who named himself, the chief invited him over for a pito drinking spree. He dug a well and covered it with a cowskin to create a deceitfully decorative seat. But, by now, Yagangnaa knew the chief’s plans, and dug a tunnel connecting his house with the chief’s well.

Later, when Yagangnaa arrived and graciously took his seat, he fell into the pit. The chief ordered his wives to pour hot pito into the hole. But Yagangnaa swiftly escaped through the tunnel and asked his mother to collect the pito that soon followed.

The chief thought he’d finally succeeded— until receiving a message from Yagangnaa the next day asking to reciprocate the chief’s generosity, inviting him for pito. Realizing that Yagangnaa had outwitted him again, the chief conceded. And finally he abolished his decree and returned the power of naming back to his people, where it belonged.