Mijin Maza - The Giants and the Cause of Thunder

Whenever thunder rolls across the Hausa plains, the old people say it is not the sky breaking.

It is the sound of two giants still wrestling above us.

But before the heavens became their wrestling ground, there was a man who believed there was no man greater than himself.

His name was Gado, but the villagers came to call him Mijin Maza-a name he had given himself because he believed he was the greatest man in all the land.

Gado was truly strong. He could carry what two men struggled to lift, split firewood before the sun climbed high, and return from the forest carrying a bundle of branches as though it weighed nothing. His strength was the subject of many conversations, and even men who disliked his boasting could not deny that he was powerful.

But his greatest strength was also his greatest weakness: he could not stop talking about it.

“I am the greatest man in all the land, Mijin Maza-a man among men,” he would boast.

If a man struggled to lift a sack, Gado would step forward.

“Allow me.”

He would lift it easily, while people praised and applauded him. Gado would straighten his tunic, smooth his clothes and look around to make sure everyone had seen.

If he split a heavy log, he would glance at the men watching him.

“You see? No man here can do what I do.”

The more people admired him, the more convinced he became that there was no one beneath the sky who could match his strength.

His wife, Asabe, was different. She was beautiful, calm and down to earth. She loved her husband but never encouraged his pride.

“One day, you will meet your match, and he will put you to shame,” she often warned.

Gado only laughed.

One afternoon, Asabe travelled to a neighbouring village for a wedding. She stayed longer than she had planned, and by the time she began her journey home, the sun was high and the heat had settled heavily over the dusty road. Her throat became dry with thirst.

She stopped some children playing by the road and asked where she could find water.

They pointed her to a nearby well.

At the well, Asabe lowered a bucket into the deep water and tried to pull it up. It would not move. She planted both feet firmly and pulled again, but the bucket remained below.

“Strange,” she muttered.

Then a woman appeared, carrying a small boy on her back.

“Leave it,” the woman said. “My son will help you.”

Asabe looked at the child in surprise.

“That child?”

The woman unstrapped him. The boy walked to the well, took hold of the rope and pulled the heavy bucket out effortlessly.

Asabe stared.

“How is he so strong when he is still so little?”

“He got his extraordinary strength from his father,” the woman replied.

“His father must be a very strong man.”

“Indeed. He is the strongest man in all the land.”

Asabe paused.

For a moment, she imagined Gado standing proudly before the woman, declaring himself the greatest man alive.

“My husband would say the same thing about himself,” she said with a faint smile.

The woman laughed.

“Then perhaps your husband should meet mine.”

Asabe thanked her and continued home, but she carried those words with her. She knew Gado well enough to understand that he would not simply forget them.

When she told Gado what had happened, he became restless.

A child had lifted a bucket that defeated his wife. And the child’s father was said to be the strongest man in all the land.

At first, Gado laughed.

Then he stopped laughing.

The thought began to trouble him. What kind of man could father a child with such strength? And if the child was already that powerful, what must the father be like?

That night, Gado could hardly sleep.

Before sunrise, he woke Asabe.

“Get ready. You are taking me to that village.”

“To the well?”

“Yes. I want to see the child. Then I want to meet his father.”

Asabe sighed.

“I never said the man called himself stronger than you.”

“It makes no difference,” Gado replied. “If he is truly the strongest, I must see him.”

They returned to the village and found the woman and her child at the well. The boy was drawing water again.

Gado stepped forward.

“Give me the rope.”

He pulled.

Nothing.

He pulled again, harder.

His muscles tightened and his feet dug into the ground. At last, the bucket came up, but only after a struggle.

Gado stared at the boy.

The child had lifted the same bucket as though it were an empty calabash.

“How did your child become so strong?” Gado asked.

“He got his strength from his father.”

“Who is he?”

“The strongest man in all the land.”

Gado’s pride stirred.

“Take me to him.”

The woman agreed. Their home, she said, was not far away.

As they walked, she told Gado that her husband was no ordinary man. He hunted enormous animals in the forest and could kill creatures that ordinary men would fear to approach.

“He does not hunt like ordinary hunters,” she said. “When other men see an elephant, they look for a place to hide. My husband looks for where to strike.”

Gado listened without answering. He wanted to laugh at the woman's words, but something inside him told him not to.

Soon they reached a clearing.

There stood a house with a doorway so high that a tall man could enter without bending. Around it lay the enormous white bones of animals.

“Whose house is this?” Gado asked.

“My husband’s.”

“Where is he?”

“He has gone hunting.”

“For what?”

“Elephants.”

Before Gado could respond, the ground trembled.

From deep within the forest came the sound of approaching footsteps.

THUD.

THUD.

The trees shook.

Then Gado saw him.

The man was enormous. Branches brushed his shoulders as he walked, and across one shoulder he carried an elephant as casually as another man might carry firewood.

“That is my husband,” the woman whispered.

For the first time, Gado was speechless.

“Hide,” she said. “Or you will become his dinner.”

She hurried him behind the house and opened an enormous clay drum.

“Get inside.”

Gado climbed in.

Through a small crack, he watched the giant enter the compound and drop his load.

Not one elephant.

Five.

The giant’s wife came to greet him, but he suddenly stopped.

“I smell a man.”

“There is no man here,” she replied.

“I can smell him.”

“One passed by earlier,” she said calmly. “He left in a hurry.”

The giant searched with his eyes but eventually turned away.

He prepared his meal and ate all five elephants.

Gado watched in disbelief. He had seen strong men struggle to carry one elephant's tusk, yet this creature had eaten five elephants as though they were ordinary food.

His fear grew heavier with every passing moment.

When the giant finally fell asleep, the woman opened the drum.

“Come out. Run as fast as you can. Do not look back.”

Gado ran.

He ran without looking back, his heart pounding against his chest. But in his panic, his foot struck a stone.

The noise woke the giant.

The giant sat up, saw Gado disappearing into the distance and let out a roar that seemed to shake the trees.

Gado ran faster.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The earth shook behind him.

For the first time, Mijin Maza was running from another man.

He tore through the forest until he reached open grassland, where some farmers were working.

“Help me!” he cried.

“What is chasing you?”

“A giant!”

Before they could laugh, the ground shook.

The giant emerged from the forest.

The farmers scattered, and Gado kept running.

His legs burned. His lungs felt ready to burst. His clothes were torn, his feet were bleeding, and the pride that had carried him through countless boasts had disappeared completely.

Then he saw an enormous man sitting beneath a great tree.

“Why are you running?” the stranger asked.

“A giant is chasing me.”

The man smiled.

“Then let him come.”

“He is not an ordinary man!”

“Neither am I.”

The giant soon reached the clearing.

He stopped when he saw the stranger.

“Who are you to stand in my way?”

The enormous man rose.

“I am Mijin Maza,” he said. “The strongest man beneath the sky.”

The giant roared.

“You dare call yourself Mijin Maza? I am Mijin Maza! I am the strongest man in all the land.”

The stranger smiled.

“And who told you that name belonged to you?”

Gado stared at them.

All his life, he had believed Mijin Maza was a title that belonged to him. Now two men stood before him, each claiming to be the strongest.

“Prove it,” said the first.

“With pleasure,” replied the second.

They charged.

BOOM!

Their arms locked, and the earth cracked beneath their feet.

They pushed, threw and wrestled with such force that dust rose around them. One lifted the other and slammed him to the ground.

BOOM!

The earth trembled.

But the fallen giant rose again.

They fought harder, each determined not to yield. Their feet tore up the earth, and the great tree beneath which they fought shook with every blow.

Gado watched in disbelief. They were not fighting over land, cattle or food.

They were fighting for the name.

Mijin Maza.

The man among men.

The strongest of them all.

The wind began to howl.

Clouds gathered.

The sky darkened.

Gado backed away.

Then, with one enormous heave, the two giants rose from the earth.

Higher.

Higher.

Until they disappeared into the clouds.

A flash of light tore across the heavens.

Then came a thunderous roar.

BOOOOOOM!

Gado fell to his knees.

Another flash.

Another roar.

BOOM!

The two giants were still wrestling among the clouds.

And that was when Gado understood.

The sky itself had become their wrestling ground.

Their struggle had become thunder.

From that day forward, whenever the clouds gathered and the heavens roared, the elders would say:

“They are wrestling again.”

Gado returned home quietly.

The journey that had begun with pride had ended with him barely able to stand.

Asabe was waiting.

She looked at his torn clothes, scratched arms and dust-covered body.

“Did you finally meet your match?” she asked.

Gado gave a tired laugh.

“I found two.”

“And did you prove that you were the greatest?”

He shook his head.

“No. I was no match for them.”

For once, there was no boast in his voice.

“I thought I was the greatest man beneath the sky,” he said.

“And now?” Asabe asked.

Gado looked towards the darkening sky.

“Now I know better.”

A rumble of thunder rolled across the distance.

Gado looked up.

“Those two still haven’t decided who is greater.”

Asabe laughed.

“Perhaps they never will.”

From that day on, Gado remained a strong man, but he no longer needed everyone to know it.

He had learned that strength did not need an audience, and that no man should be too certain of his own greatness.

And so the story of Mijin Maza passed from one generation to another, from mothers to children and from elders to grandchildren.

Even today, when thunder rolls across the Hausa plains, the elders say:

“Listen carefully.

The giants are wrestling again.”

And perhaps, somewhere above the clouds, two mighty men are still fighting over who truly deserves to be called Mijin Maza-the man among men.