Confessions of a Mad Librarian

Questions began to be raised about Sambo as early as 1932, when Langston Hughes denominated it a �pickaninny variety� of picture book and pointed out its ambivalence: �amusing undoubtedly to the white child, but like an unkind word to one who has known too many hurts to enjoy the additional pain of being laughed at� (Children�s Library Yearbook). Nonetheless, although it began to be challenged in the late 1940s, it remained in the majority of libraries, and large numbers of children, black and white, became acquainted with it as a matter of course in school, at home and at library story time well into the 1970s. The authorized version has never gone out of print and it is available today not only as a book, but on various websites .

Sambo is often described as a �trickster� tale in which the smaller and weaker saves himself by outwitting the bigger and stronger. This figure appears in folktales around the world both in animal guise (Anansi, Iktomi, Coyote, Reynard, Brer Rabbit, etc.) and as a human (Hershele Ostropolyer among Yiddish-speaking Jews, �Francisco de Quevedo� in Mexico, etc.). But this is not an accurate description; Sambo is not really a trickster. He has only one strategy for dealing with the tigers who want to eat him. He bribes each one by offering it an article of his clothing or a belonging until he has nothing left but his underwear (luckily for him, at that point no more tigers appear). He does suggest novel uses for the slippers (ear-slippers) and the umbrella (hold it with the tail) when the two of the tigers are ready to reject the utility of his belongings and eat him. But once the clothing is gone, Sambo starts crying and walking home in his underwear; he no longer affects the action of the story.

The tigers, ignoring Sambo, begin to quarrel about which of them is the grandest and to chase one another around a tree. As they run faster and faster, they miraculously melt into butter which is found at the foot of the tree by Sambo�s father Black Jumbo. He puts it all in a brass pot and takes it home for Sambo�s mother, Black Mumbo, to cook with. She uses it to fry exactly 251 pancakes (27 for Black Mumbo, 55 for Black Jumbo, and 169 for Little Black Sambo). Sambo does get his belongings back, but only because the tigers are too busy chasing one another to pay attention to him when he asks them if they still want his clothing.

Sambo is saved by Bannerman�s deus ex machina turning the tigers into butter, not by his own cleverness. The innocent child protagonist saved magically is typical of nineteenth-century �fairy� (not traditional folk) tales written by middle-class writers for middle-class European and American children; this is the genre to which Sambo truly belongs.

Many middle-aged (white) people wax nostalgic about Sambo�s charm, recalling the ear slippers, tiger butter and pancakes affectionately. Fortunately for them, two reworkings of the story have appeared recently (Marcellino�s Story of Little Babaji and Lester's Sam and the Tigers). In both books the same episodes appear as in the original, and the pictures are more attractive than Bannerman�s, in which the tigers may be charming but the people are not.

I believe the affection Little Black Sambo inspires has more to do with nostalgia for the reader�s childhood than any intrinsic merit of the tale (since I never read it as a child, I am not nostalgic about it). "Sambo" is a name too corrupted by historical misuse to be attempted as a clean slate, even with new illustrations (Marcellino and Lester obviously recognized this, as Bing did not). And linguistically the names Black Mumbo and Black Jumbo mean nothing individually; their sense comes when they are joined (mumbo-jumbo) to mean "obscure or meaningless talk or writing, nonsense, meaningless or ignorant ritual" (New Shorter OED). To my mind this cannot be construed as anything but demeaning and discomfort-provoking, regardless of Bannerman's conscious intention. It certainly provokes discomfort in me, annulling any possible charm the story might be supposed to have (I find little charm in it, and I am white).

There is an appropriate Spanish saying that it would behoove people desirous of re-presenting Little Black Sambo to attend to: "No mientas la soga en casa del ahorcado" - "Don't mention the rope in the hanged man's house." Even if you think it's all perfectly innocent or even wonderful, be aware that there are people for whom it's painful and offensive - and think again.