Please note that this is a traditional story of Akan people of West Africa, and is retold here with the utmost respect simply in the hope that more people will be able to experience this wonderful story.

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So this is the story of Anansi (sometimes known as Anansi the Spider, because he turns into a spider, but in this he is not a spider) went bald. 

 

A messenger came to Anansi and his wife Aso’s house bearing bad news. Aso’s mother, and Anansi’s mother in law, had sadly passed away. They resolved to go to her home village tomorrow, as they funeral would take place in the next couple of days. 

 

It should be noted that, from the outset, Anansi took rather the wrong attitude towards the funeral. Instead of cultivating an air of respectful sorrow, he decided he was going to go all out. He was going to impress. This was going to be the event of the year, and he was going to be the man of the event, and by extension, also the year. This attitude was probably the first step in the demise of his hairline. He probably should have just, you know, gone with the typical ‘I’m sorry for this loss, I’ve bought a ham’ approach to the funeral. But as the parable goes, you can’t argue with a spider, and moreover, you certainly cannot argue with a man who sometimes turns into a spider.

 

So, he spared no time in going into the village and finding his friends, Odwan the Sheep, Okra the Cat, Okraman the Dog, Akoko the Fowl, and Aberekyie the Goat and asking them to accompany him. 

 

‘Of course,’ they all said. ‘It must be such a difficult time for you and your wife. I totally understand. Of course we’ll come with you. We have your back, buddy.’

 

‘Thank you so much,’ Anansi said, with a theatrical little snivel. And then he went home and started work on his outfit. You gotta give it to him, he was going to look incredible. He sewed himself a hat out of leopard skin, and dyed his cloth russet. It was an outfit that perhaps would not look out of place on Fran Drescher in The Nanny, but she is a recognised style icon, which just re-affirms our earlier statement that he was going to look fucking sick.

 

And then they next morning, they set off. Not only did he bring all of his mates, he also brought lots of food, wine, and gifts to help accommodate the costs of the funeral. And when they all arrived at Aso’s home village, they fired their guns into the air, to announce their arrival and the start of the festivities. Yes, thought Anansi, good. They’d already begun to make an impression. 

 

On the next day, they all sat down to eat a meal. Apart from Anansi, who for some reason, was refusing to eat until the 8th day. 

 

‘You sure you don’t want to eat anything?’ asked Aso. 

 

‘No, I’m waiting till the 8th day on principle. This is what you do when your mother in law has died.’ He said. And then he added, for good measure, ‘I’m too sad to eat.’

 

‘Okay,’ said Aso, with not a small amount of suspicion.

 

Day One without food went pretty okay, as did day two, and three. However, on day four, it became agony. How he appeared throughout the festivities was paramount; therefore he must not be seen to be eating. He was, after all, incredibly sad and not eating on principle. So fine, he just would not be seen eating. 

 

So, he hatched a plan. First of all, he would cook some beans. This was because he wanted beans. Second of all, he would place them in his hat. Third of all, he would put the hat on his head. Fourthly, he would then tell Aso that there was a hat shaking festival at his father’s village and that his presence (and his hat’s presence) was required immediately. 

 

‘Aso,’ he said, going up to his wife. ‘I’ve got some bad news. There’s a hat shaking festival in my father’s village, and my presence is required immediately.’ sStep one achieved. 

 

‘Mmm,’ said Aso. ‘Okay. Is it super urgent? Can you not go tomorrow? And also, do you want to eat anything?’ She had never heard of a hat shaking festival. This was because, she suspected, they did not exist.

 

‘No, no, I’m very sad,’ said Anansi, before slouching off.

 

Step 2: make some beans. This is a simple step, really. Go to outhouse. Find beans. Put beans on stove. Season. Wait. 

 

Step 3: put beans in hat. Ooh, bit of a problem, beans are a bit hot. Maybe wait for them to cool down a bit. Hang on, can’t do that, Aso’s coming over here, probably enticed by the delicious smell of beans. She does love beans, to be fair. 

 

Panicked, Anansi picked up the beans hat, and put it on his head. Fucking fuck fuck, he thought, it was very hot.

 

Meanwhile, Aso had indeed smelt beans. But more than that, she had smelt shit. The first thing that she did was to check out her husband’s alibi; she asked around and no one had ever heard of a hat shaking festival. ‘I have no idea what that is,’ her sister had said. ‘But what a sight to behold would be.’ Right. So the hat shaking festival was nothing more than a brilliant concept.

 

Smelling the beans, Aso put two and two together. But she did not enter the outhouse. Instead, she went on a smear campaign. And what a smear campaign, as she managed to gather the whole village, debrief them on what had occurred and teach them a mocking song about Anansi in an incredibly short space of time.

 

Anansi himself was about to go on his way. The beans were burning his head. As he could feel his scalp getting hotter and hotter he wondered how far he would have to go before he could chow down on his delicious head beans. He was so hungry that he welcomed the idea of having to pluck the odd hair out of it; it would be any easy challenge for a mastermind such as himself. 

 

However, this was not to be, as when he stepped out onto the road he was confronted with the crowd that Aso had mustered. 

 

‘Hat shaking festival, eh?’ she said.

 

‘Yes, a hat shaking festival.’ he said, although he had gone very red in the face. Primarily from beans, but he was also feeling a little bit stressed out about this situation.

 

Aso responded by shaking hat. this was a terrible idea. all of the beans fell out, and revealed Anansi’s now bald, and also rather blistered scalp.

 

And that is how he lost his hair. For being an ass at his mother in law’s funeral. The moral? Don’t be an ass at your mother in law’s funeral. The end.