Special Guest Blogger: African God Dubiaku

Burdened with eleven sons, my overworked mother couldn’t cope and asked the Gods for assistance. To solve the problem they helpfully sent Death.
When my mother said: “Dearest son, I’m going out tonight, but nice Mrs Death is coming to babysit”, no-one could blame him for being slightly suspicious. That evening, Mrs Death turned up with eleven of her own children, making it a kind of double babysit.
I was on my worst behavior. staying up way past bedtime, chewing tobacco, taking snuff and demanding snacks until Mrs Death didn’t know if she was coming or going. She decided to go outside and bang her head against a tree. Meanwhile I got busy...
Ten minutes later Mrs Death returned to the nursery with a sore head and a renewed sense of purpose. She ate the eleven children as she had been asked, and went to kiss her own children goodnight.
Too late she discovered that I had tinkered with the sleeping arrangements and sneaked his brothers out the back where they were hiding in a tree. Mrs Death had just eaten her own children. Cue bad attack of indigestion.
Screeching with rage, she dashed outside to find the missing kiddies. As she stood under a tree scratching her head, I peed on her head which she didn't take very well, and how did i know she knew a Falling Down Dead Spell.
All the boys fell out of the tree, except for me who had already jumped to escape the spell. Mrs Death climbed the tree to make sure she hadn’t missed anyone, and I turned the tables by repeating the Falling Down Dead Spell and Mrs Death fell dead.
By one of those quirks of fate with which mythology abounds, the tree happened to be on the banks of the Water-of-Life river. So I splashed my siblings with handfuls of water to restore them to life but accidentally allowed a drop or two to splash onto Mrs Death, who sprang up and chased us all. But the boys leapt into the river and swam to safety, all except little old me who couldn’t swim.
In a terrible rage, Mrs Death began throwing stones at the escapees. She picked up a particularly large one and hurled it towards the opposite bank. But it wasn’t really a stone, it was a cunningly disguised me so we all escaped and Mrs Death trudged home in a foul mood.