Episode 130 – King of the Ghosts – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 130 Show Notes

Source: Banyarwandan Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re headed to the wilds of Rwanda to follow a wily hunter on the prowl. You’ll discover that you shouldn’t bet on a game unless you’re good at it, that you shouldn’t ignore bad dreams, and that you shouldn’t marry someone unless you’re sure they’re not a shapeshifter. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a young woman is going to wonder if she’s fallen in love with a monster. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 130, “King of the Ghosts”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
I received a brand new collection of mythological tales for the holidays, so of course I have to dip into that novel goodness. This week’s story comes to us from the Banyarwandan people of modern Rwanda and is collected in Epic Tales: Gods & Monsters Myths & Tales.
Ryangombe the god-king was the son of Babinga, who was known as the ruler of the imandwa or the king of the ghosts. Alternatively, it is a band of supernatural ruffians, but hungry ghosts seems an apt image. He is traditionally set up as the opposite and foil to the good creator god Imana. His mother Kalimulore was the kind of intense, bloodthirsty person who made everyone around her nervous and uncomfortable. Her ability to shapeshift into a lioness certainly didn’t help matters, especially since she usually used this skill to stalk and kill her father’s cattle. He tried to let it go at first, hoping she’d get bored and stop, but when it became clear that she would just keep killing until someone stopped her or the cattle were all dead, he stepped in and forebade her to hunt his animals any more. To ensure that she actually stopped, he also had her replaced as the herdswoman (which was a very ‘fox guarding the henhouse’ kind of situation).
That ended her bovine reign of terror, but it didn’t stop her cruelty or desire to cause pain. With no animal targets, she turned her attentions towards her husband. He had always been more than a little frightened of his powerful, deadly bride but these new torments so terrified him that he took her back to her father’s home and refused to have anything else to do with her. He didn’t particularly want to end up a bloody ruin in a lioness’ jaws, so this was probably a wise course for him.
Her father was frustrated, but he soon found another who was in need of a wife – Babinga – and the two were soon wed. The king of the ghosts was every bit a match for his terrifying wife, and so there were no more issues. The two got on like a house on fire (which may not be far from the truth) and soon had Ryangombe. Time passed and the boy grew until, one day, Babinga died. The story doesn’t say how, so pick whatever peaceful or gruesome death you prefer.
Ryangombe was young and untried, but he was also determined to keep his father’s title in the family. Shortly after the king was laid to rest, the young man announced his intention to take his father’s place and claim his crown. One of Babinga’s longtime followers (a man named Mpumutimuchuni) was in no mood to be led by some wet-nosed puppy, so he disputed Ryangombe’s claim. The two agreed to settle the matter in a civilized fashion – a game of kisoro (very similar to the better known mancala). Much to his chagrin, Ryangombe lost the game and the challenge.
The would-be king had his honor and so he left, going into voluntary exile. He passed the time hunting (being very much his mother’s son in his love of the hunt and the spray of hot blood from a mortal wound). He stumbled across some herdsmen (though they were young enough to be more boys than men) who prophesized about his future wife. After some shenanigans that the story doesn’t get into, Ryangombe did indeed marry but soon found that married life ill-suited him. His inlaws were total assholes and staying at home with his wife sucked ass compared to hunting every day. He did his best to settle into his new routine and soon had a son named Binego. The addition of a screaming newborn to the mix was simply too much, and the feckless asshat left his wife to care for their child alone and fucked off back to his own ancestral home. What a deadbeat dad, right?
Ryangombe didn’t bother to return, like ever, so the boy’s uncle stepped up to try and help his sister out with raising this kid. As soon as Binego was old enough, he was sent out to herd his uncle’s cattle. This proved to be a terrible mistake. Even though Ryangombe had done absolutely nothing to rear the boy, he took heavily after his father and, even more so, after his grandmother, the shapeshifting lioness. On his very first day in charge of the cows, Binego drove his spear through the throat of a heifer, relishing in its dying moans. The next day, he slaughtered a cow and her newborn calf. Understandably, the young man’s uncle objected to having his prized animals murdered for no good reason, but Binego was in no mood to be chastised. He had the family bloodlust and so, when his uncle tried to remove him from the cattle, Binego straight up fucking murdered him.
The lad went and spoke with his mother, who was either terrified of him or totally cool with her helpful brother being killed in cold fucking blood and I don’t know which is worse. Together, they left his corpse to rot and headed for Ryangombe’s home (although he had made it pretty damned clear that he wanted nothing to do with either of them). They got lost along the way (neither of them ever having been back to the place that Babinga had once ruled) and stopped to ask two men for help. The men were busy with their unspecified labors and told the pair that they were simply too busy to drop everything and guide them. They could point the way to Ryangombe’s house, but that was the best they could do. Binego nodded, considered for a moment, and then murdered both of them. They headed off in the direction the now-dead men had indicated, which happened to pass through a village. As they walked through, Binego stabbed a baby napping in a cradle for no particular reason (the story is very clear that he has no motive except for love of the murder itself).
In due time, Binego and his mother finally came to Ryangombe’s home. They arrived to find the exiled prince once more challenging Mpumutimuchuni for leadership of the imandwa. They again agreed to settle the matter with a game of kisoro, but for new stakes. Since Binego had already lost fair and square, he had to wager something extremely valuable to entice the new king to risk his crown. If the younger man lost, Mpumutimuchuni would win the right to shave the failed usurper’s head of the magnificent crest of hair that marked him as being of royal rank. This would be a deep shame but it would also mean the end of any future attempts to challenge for the right to rule. This game would be for all the marbles.
Intrigued, Binego wandered up behind his father and watched each player’s moves closely. As the game neared its conclusion, the results balanced on a knife’s edge. Both men were playing extremely well, and either could win with the right move but it soon became clear that Mpumutimuchuni had laid a clever trap. Ryangombe was on the ropes with no clear path to victory. The clever Binego saw something no one else did, and offered a move suggestion to his father. Smiling, Ryangombe followed the boy’s advice (no word on whether he realized yet that his benefactor was his abandoned son) and snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.
Quite justifiably, Mpumutimuchuni protested that this challenge had not been fairly won – Ryangombe had only prevailed because this little asshole cheated. Binego nodded in acknowledgement of the man’s complaint and then stabbed him in the throat. The short-lived king bled out in the mud, and no one else dared object to the results. Thus did Ryangombe secure his undisputed leadership of the imandwa. Apparently, murdering the person standing between the man and his throne was enough to justify a whole assload of murders, and Binego was never held accountable for any of his vicious, vile deeds. Instead, he was named as Ryangombe’s second-in-command and later, after his true identity was discovered, as the heir apparent. Like all of the imandwa, Binego was clever, bloodthirsty, and cruel. Ryangombe is said to be the exception to this, being kind and benevolent (though abandoning your family just because is neither kind nor benevolent, so maybe he’s more of a true member of the imandwa than the story wants to admit).
The king and his successor ruled over their lands for many years in what I assume was relative peace. The story provides no real information about this time, but if he ruled with any kind of moderation or wisdom, this might be where the idea that he was a benevolent spirit arose from. One day, Ryangombe decided to go out hunting (as he so often did), but not alone this time. In the intervening years, he’d had more children, including two sons named Kagoro and Ruhanga. Unlike last time, the king stuck around to at least pretend to raise his kids, so they were invited to come along with him on this expedition, as were some of Ryangombe’s sisters and several close friends in the imandwa.
As they were gathering weapons and supplies, the king’s mother Nyiraryangombe rushed up to her son, disheveled and distraught. She begged him to call off this trip, saying that she’d had not one but four strange dreams the night before. She didn’t fully understand them, but she had felt the sense of ill omen and impending doom clearly enough. These dreams were undeniably a dark prophecy of disaster to come. Ryangombe laughed. “You are being ridiculous, mother. Dreams are just dreams. Maybe you had some food that didn’t agree with you. Maybe you’re just stressed out. Either way, I’m not calling off a trip I’ve been looking forward to because you had a nightmare.” This reaction was very unusual for the time since, according to the story, most of his contemporaries placed a great deal of stock in signs and omens, and especially in prophetic dreams.
Trying to convince her son to abandon his foolhardy trip, she told him about her four dreams. First, she had seen a small, strange creature without any tail. Next, she had seen a beast that was all solid black without any variation at all, like a living shadow. Third had been an impossible stream running two different directions at the same time. Last, a young girl had approached with a baby in her arms instead of in an ngobe (the traditional baby bjorn that women used to carry young children on their backs, also known as an imbeleko among the Zulus). Each of these things taken alone were strange and unnatural. Altogether, it was a clear omen of some dark but unspecified tidings. This hunting trip was cursed, but all Ryangombe had to do to stay safe was stay home. He laughed again and refused.
The group set out not long after sunrise with Ryangombe leading the way. They hadn’t gone far when the party’s walking flushed a hare out of hiding. The terrified bunny tried to flee, but the skilled hunter hurled his spear with pinpoint accuracy and dropped it twitching to the bloody earth. Only, when one of the king’s personal attendants retrieved the corpse, he was shocked to discover that it had no tail. “Sire, you have slain a small creature with no tail, just as in your mother’s dream! Maybe we should listen to Nyiraryangombe and head back.” Ryangombe rolled his eyes. “Not you too! We’re men and we’re hunting. Don’t waste time repeating women’s words while we’re stalking game.” The attendant had no real choice but to fall back and keep silent, but the king’s words did nothing to quiet the unease in his breast.
They traveled throughout the morning and soon enough they came across a hyena that was not brindled as other hyenas are; instead, it was solid black from snout to tail without so much as a speck of brown. Not long after they passed this uneasy sight, they were forced to cross a stream where erosion and rolling rocks had choked off part of the stream creating a strange oxbow. It looped back on itself so closely that it ran in two different directions on either side of the small natural dam. Everyone except the king was by now walking on eggshells. Three of Nyiraryangombe’s portents had come to pass, which could be no coincidence. Something bad was clearly on the horizon, but no one was willing to bring it up to Ryangombe again. He’d made his opinion on the matter clear and it was never wise to cross the king.
No one was surprised when, not far beyond the stream, they spied a young girl of maybe ten or twelve who was carrying a squirming infant in her arms. She approached the hunters to ask if they happened to have an ngobe she could have. No one had brought any children on this hunting trip, so no one had a baby harness. Generous and determined to ignore the dark warnings of his mother swirling around this fourth and final portent, he offered her one of the hides he had with him (I’m assuming these are animals they’ve killed on this trip, but the story doesn’t specify). One by one, she refused them all as impractical or unacceptable until he pulled out a buffalo hide.
She pronounced this skin to be perfect for making an ngobe, though it needed to be properly dressed and cleaned. Ryangombe did so himself with good grace and also provided her with the hide thongs she would need to tie it all together. “Excellent. Now take the child.” She thrust the baby into the king’s arms despite his loud and exasperated protests. She repeated her demand and he relented, though this whole thing was starting to get on his nerves. Even the patience of a benevolent king had limits. She tested those limits when she asked the king to name this baby (though the story does not say what name he chose).
She opened her mouth, clearly intending to demand something else from the frustrated king, but he cut her off. “No, fuck you. I’ve done enough so stop asking for more. Go the fuck away! Leave me alone!” Startled at the king’s anger and aggression, she turned and fled (leaving the child squirming in the king’s arms). As she reached the brush line and began to vanish into the heavy cover, her form shimmered and shifted. Gone was the young girl, replaced by a young but enormous buffalo though she was far enough away and deep enough into the greenery that no one saw the change. Well, no humans, anyway. Scenting a prey animal in their midst, Ryangombe’s dogs howled and gave chase. The hunt was on!
One by one, the snarling, deadly dogs vanished into the brush after the buffalo. One by one, their barking stopped suddenly. None of them returned. Anxious to know what had happened to his prized hunting dogs, Ryangombe sent his trusted aide Nyarwambali to see what had become of them and to try and bring them back. More cautiously than the beasts, he crept after them and soon returned. “My lord, the dogs are dead. All of them. There is some beast there which has killed them all.” Furious, the king forced Nyarwambali to lead the way to the dead dogs, where Ryangmobe picked up the buffalo’s trail, tracked it down, and speared it. The beast dropped to the dust.
Ryangombe threw his hands into the air to celebrate, turning to Nyarwambali to bask in his triumph. Which is why he didn’t see the buffalo get back to its feet and charge. One of its enormous horns gored the surprised king through the back, emerging from his chest in a gout of hot blood. The mortally wounded man stumbled away from the beast that had killed him and leaned heavily against a tree. He turned in time to see the buffalo turn back into the girl, pick up the child, and flee.
At the very instant when Ryangombe fell against the tree, a bloodstained leaf dropped out of the clear blue sky and landed on his mother’s chest beside her heart. She knew with certainty that this omen could only mean that her dream’s dire prediction had come to pass but it was another night and day before she finally received news about what had actually happened. Ryangombe had known his wound was mortal and so had called one of his imandwa to him, asking the man to go and call Nyiraryangombe and Binego. The man refused to leave his king however, so Ryangombe called a second man from the imandwa over, but he also refused. One by one, each and every man from the imandwa there refused the king’s request.
It was the king’s maidservant Nkonzo who stepped up and promised to fulfill the king’s wish. She hurried as fast as she could for a full night and day until she at last came to Nyiraryangombe’s house and delivered her terrible message. The older woman left at once with her grandson Binego to follow Nkonzo’s directions to where her son lay dying but not yet dead. The fallen king told the two of them the story, and Binego demanded to know which way that buffalo bitch had gone. He raced in the direction Ryangombe indicated, overtook the buffalo woman (despite her huge head start), and cut her and the innocent child to bloody pieces as revenge for his father’s death. None of that seems justified to me. The buffalo woman had been a little entitled with her demands of the king, sure, but attacking the dogs and then the king had both been desperate acts of self-defense. The child had literally done nothing but exist, but no one said Binego was a good person.
The dying Ryangombe gave orders to his imandwa for the honors to be paid to his corpse after his death. These are the rites still followed by the Kubandwa society, which participates in and venerates the cult of the imandwa. He insisted that Nkonzo, who had done him such good service when all others failed him, be given a special place in these rites. He reiterated that Binego was to be his successor and then Ryangombe finally died of the awful, gaping wound in his chest. And that was the end of Ryangombe the god king. There is some historical evidence to suggest that the leader of the imandwa might once have been a real person whose deeds grew into those of a folk hero, immortalizing him in story. And so with the king dead, long live the king, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monster is the rimu.
Heading from Rwanda into neighboring Tanzania, we find the monstrous rimu lurking. I could find literally zero information about this creature aside from the single story contained in Gods & Monsters Myths & Tales, so I’ll just have to let it stand on its own. I had wondered if it might have some relation to the creature now called a werehyena, more correctly referred to as boudas in Ethiopia, Sudan, Tanzania, and Morocco. In traditional lore, every blacksmith (a trade passed down by lineage) is also a bouda, a witch with the power to transform themselves into a hyena to rob graves at midnight. Among the Berbers, it is believed that they are forced to change shape each night and turn back each morning. Hyenas are well known scavengers, so they have no qualms about digging up and devouring human corpses. The version in Sudan is a hybrid creature who transforms each night into a cannibalistic monster a la American Werewolf in London, but even in its human form it has telltale features such as an unusually hairy body, red gleaming eyes, or an inhumanly nasal voice. You’ll see for yourself why I wonder if the rimu might be related to the bouda.
Once, long ago, there was a young woman who was of a marrying age. She looked around at all the eligible men in the area and refused to marry any of them. None was handsome enough or rich enough or clever enough to draw her interest. Her parents supported this marriage embargo as they were determined not to give their daughter to any common man. She was an exceptional beauty and she deserved an exceptional husband.
On this particular day, a festival was going on in the village. During the celebration, the traditional sword dance was performed, a spectacular feat of dancing skill and martial prowess. Men came from across the land to participate in this dance and show off their strength and dexterity, so it was a perfect time for couples to meet and fall in love. Indeed, amongst the dancers was a young man who was the handsomest, most perfect creature the young woman had ever seen in her life. He was tall and graceful, and the gold ring worn about his forehead glittered in the sun like a halo, drawing all eyes to his poise, beauty, and noble bearing. The maiden fell in love with him at first sight and her parents immediately approved of him as well. Who wouldn’t? Everyone there agreed that he was by far the most eligible bachelor amongst the dancers.
The match was arranged and, as the dancing continued over the next few days, the young woman could scarcely keep her eyes off the incredible young man who was to be her husband at the end of the festival. She watched him so intently, in fact, that she was the only one to notice as he turned his back for a particularly difficult maneuver and a second small mouth opened in the back of his neck right at the base of his skull. It was there for just an instant and then gone like it had never been, but the young woman was certain of what she had seen. Well shit.
She went to her parents in a terrified panic. “Mom! Dad! That man you betrothed me to is no man at all! He’s a rimu! I saw a second mouth where no man should have one! He’s a monster and he’s only marrying me so he can murder and devour me!” Her parents refused to hear such nonsense. There was just no way that a man as handsome and charismatic as he could be a man eating monster! She was just having a bad case of pre wedding nerves. “Settle down, girl. Pull yourself together! That man is no rimu. You’re going to marry him, you’re going to go off to live with him, and you’re going to let him devour you, if you know what I mean.” The young maiden was in no mood for awkward sex jokes from her parents, but they wouldn’t listen to her so she was stuck with the marriage. What could she do?
The festival ended and the young man presented himself to the bride’s parents for the wedding ceremony. The couple was wed and they spent the first few days living with the young woman’s parents, as was tradition. Soon though, it was time for the newlywed couple to set out into the world for the young man’s village and start their life together. Looking over her shoulder nervously, she walked with her husband away from the village and into the wilds along a little-used path. The tall grasses and thick brush pressed close on either side of the path, making the girl feel even more trapped than ever.
After they had traveled some time, the young man turned to his bride. “Look back and tell me if you can still see the smoke of your father’s hut.” She did as he asked and confirmed that yes, she could still see the smoke. They walked on for another hour or two. “Look back and tell me if you can still see the hills that rise up behind your father’s hut.” She did as he asked and confirmed that yes, she could still see the hills. Another few hours passed and he asked her again to look back and check if she could still see the hills she had grown up in. Swallowing heavily, the girl admitted that no, she could no longer see the hills. She had never been this far from home before.
The young man laughed and the sound was ugly, cruel, and hungry. “Perfect. What will you do now, little morsel? I am a rimu and I am going to tear your tender flesh apart with my teeth. You are my wife however, so I will let you climb that tree over there and weep your last tears. Consider it my bridal gift to you. Your death will be your gift to me!” He laughed again, the sound more guttural and inhuman than before. The laughter suddenly died in his throat as an arrow streaked out of the brush and exploded through his ribs. Another followed, thunking wetly into his flesh. A third.
See, the young woman had been powerless to convince her parents about the evil nature of her murderous husband, but the girl’s brothers had been more willing to listen. They had followed along behind the couple the whole time, hiding in the heavy brush along the path as they watched to make sure their sister was safe. As soon as he admitted his vile plans, they had struck. Taking no chances with such a dangerous beast, all of the brothers had used poison arrows to ensure the rimu went down hard and died painfully. When he finally stopped twitching, the young woman climbed down from the tree and hugged her brothers tearfully. Together, they went back home. It’s anybody’s guess if this experience made her more willing to consider marriage to a good but common man or if she decided to swear off men altogether from then on. Either would be a totally fair reaction.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re traveling back to ancient Greece for one of the most famous heroes and all around assholes of Greek mythology – Theseus. You’ll learn why you should be more careful about interpreting prophecies, why you should keep your wits about you while traveling to Athens, and why you should always check under strange boulders for upgraded gear. Then, in Gods and Monsters, a king will be cursed to cum snakes and scorpions and a queen will fall in love with a bull. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.