The Cunning Turtle and the King's Forbidden Fruit: An African Folk Tale
A great and wonderful tree, laden with luscious fruit, stood in a clearing in the jungle. In its shadow, all the animals from far and near had assembled. As they beheld the beautiful and tempting fruit, the very sight of it made their mouths water. "To eat of it must be a real treat," they thought.
"Let us send a messenger to the King and ask his permission," said the Giraffe, who had secretly tasted the fruit. The Giraffe's suggestion was received with applause, and after a somewhat lengthy deliberation about who should go, the Rabbit was commissioned to bring their petition before the King.
The Rabbit, upon arriving at the King's court, was most graciously received. The King, after hearing the petition, said to the Rabbit, "Go back and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, but the choicest and sweetest they must not touch, for that belongs to me!"
The Rabbit, after hearing this welcome message, hurried off, all the while repeating to himself the words of the King: "Tell my subjects that they may eat of the fruit, only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!"
As he hurried on, heedless of obstacles in the way, he ran against a stone, turned a somersault in the air, and landed on his back. It all happened so unexpectedly and suddenly that he forgot to repeat the King's message, and when he got on his feet again, it had entirely slipped his mind.
Upon hearing what had happened, the animals immediately dispatched another messenger—this time the Goat. When the Goat arrived at the King's court and delivered his message, he was given the same answer as the Rabbit before him: "Go and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!"
Upon hearing the message, the Goat, fleet-footed as he was, hurried off, all the while repeating to himself the words of the King: "Go and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!"
As he sped along, heedless of obstacles in the way, he suddenly ran with the full weight of his body against a boulder and tumbled head over heels into a ditch. When, after a while, he came to his senses and got on his feet again, the King's message had entirely slipped his mind.
Again the animals sent a messenger to the King—this time the wise and circumspect Turtle. Slow but sure, the Turtle made his way toward the King's court. When at last he stood before the King and made known his request, he too received exactly the same answer as the Goat and the Rabbit before him. Ceremoniously, the Turtle bowed himself out of the King's presence and started for home.
As slowly as he had come, he made his way back, all the while repeating to himself the words of the King: "Go and tell my subjects that they are free to eat of the fruit, only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to me!"
As he went on, he was so wrapped in thought and preoccupied with the King's message that he failed to notice a log in the way. He walked straight into it and, from the force of the shock, fell flat on his back. But he had enough presence of mind to continue repeating the words of the King. After many futile efforts, he also succeeded in righting himself and getting on his feet again. Unable to climb over the log, he walked around it and passed on. In due time, he arrived at the tree, where the animals were impatiently waiting for his return.
When at last they saw the Turtle approaching, they knew at once by the triumphant look on his face that he was the bearer of good news. And so it proved to be: "We may eat of the fruit," cried the Turtle, "only not of the choicest and best, for that belongs to the King."
At these words, a storm of applause filled the air. "Up, and let us climb the tree!" they all cried. "Come on, Turtle! You too climb the tree! You must not fail to get your share after bringing such good news! Tuck yourself up and get busy!"
"How can I climb the tree?" said the Turtle. "I am too small. I can't even think of such an attempt, handicapped as I am." And he sat down and looked on while the others climbed the tree and helped themselves to the fruit. They all had a wonderful time and ate to their hearts' content.
During all this time, the Turtle was sitting in the grass below, harboring all kinds of evil thoughts. He was brooding over plans that would enable him to get some of the King's fruit without being caught.
At sunset, the animals came down. They were all very tired, so they stretched themselves out in the grass and soon were fast asleep. At last, the Turtle's opportunity had come! He was just aching to get some of the King's fruit. Stealthily, he approached the tree, climbed it without any difficulty whatsoever, and helped himself to the King's fruit.
When he was well satisfied, he cautiously slipped to the ground. Some of the fruit which he had taken he placed by the side of the sleeping Elephant. In this way, he hoped to deceive the other animals and cover up his guilt.
Just as the first rays of the morning sun appeared on the horizon, the animals awoke, rubbed their eyes, and stretched their limbs. Then they went to the river to bathe. Upon returning, they happened to look at the tree and noticed, to their horror, that the King's fruit had disappeared during the night.
"Oh, what shall we do?!" they exclaimed. "This will surely bring the wrath of the King and well-deserved punishment upon us! Who in all the world could have done this?"
When they saw the Turtle sitting nearby, they cried with one accord, "Turtle, you are the sinner!"
"I?" said the Turtle. "What an insinuation! I can't even climb a tree, and you all know it! If you have eyes to see, then just have a look at the Elephant and the fruit by his side! It also explains why he preferred to stay here when the rest of you went to the river!" Thus the Turtle lied.
Not taking time to consider and believing the Elephant guilty, the animals became so enraged that, without further thought, they rushed upon the Elephant and killed him. In this way, the innocent and good-natured fellow paid with his life for the guilt of the Turtle. His body they cut up, and they divided the meat among themselves. The Turtle, in recognition of his services, was given one of the haunches. Then they formed a procession and started for home.
On the way, the Turtle, puffed up with pride and in a mocking way, began to sing:
Meat have I, more than I can eat! By cunning I have beaten all; The giant I have caused to fall And brought the monster to defeat.
"Say, Turtle, what kind of song is this you are singing?" the animals asked.
"I am only singing about myself," answered the Turtle, and he began to sing again:
Woe is me, my back is bent, Because my burden is too great; The haunch which you upon me laid Will surely hasten my end Unless you quickly lend me aid.
"Poor Turtle!" the animals exclaimed. "You will surely break down under your load. We will relieve you of your burden. Come, let us take off the haunch and give you a shoulder instead!" So they took the haunch from his back, gave him one of the shoulders, and continued on again.
They had not gone very far when the Turtle sang again:
Meat have I, more than I can eat! By cunning I have beaten all; The giant I have caused to fall And brought the monster to defeat.
"Listen, the Turtle is singing again!" said the Leopard.
"Say, Turtle, what are you singing this time?" the animals asked.
"What am I singing? I have but one song to sing, as you all know. It is this," and the Turtle sang:
Woe is me, my back is bent, Because my burden is too great; The shoulder you upon me laid Will surely hasten my end Unless you quickly lend me aid.
"Let him carry the liver!" one of the animals cried. So they took the shoulder off his back and gave him the liver.
They had hardly started again when, for the third time, they heard the song of the Turtle. This time they understood. "Stop!" they all cried. "This time we have you! You are the culprit, and not the Elephant, whom you have killed by your cunning and deceit. Poor Elephant! What a pity that the good and honest fellow became the victim of the crafty Turtle! But do not deceive yourself, Turtle! Just and well-deserved punishment will be dealt to you in due time!"
Not long after this had happened, a big feast was proclaimed which was to take place at a certain time and location, and they started to go there together. They had almost reached their destination when they came to a high bridge a giant cotton tree which lay across the stream. On the other side of the stream was a big hill, on top of which they were to offer sacrifices and have their feast.
The long and tedious journey through the jungle had wearied them, and so they decided to rest a bit before crossing. When at last they had reached the top of the hill, a fattened bullock was killed and preparations were made for the feast.
A chilly breeze swept over the hilltop. This was very annoying to some of the animals, and so it was decided by a majority vote to have the feast in the valley below. The meat of the bullock they divided into portions and carried down on their heads and shoulders. The intestines which, together with the stomach, were considered delicacies they carefully wrapped up by themselves in the hide of the bullock. The Turtle was to remain at the top of the hill where he would be subjected to torture by evil spirits and demons. This was to be the punishment for all his wickedness and deceit.
But once more the Turtle outwitted them all! Being fully aware of their plans, he managed, unnoticed by anyone, to crawl into the empty stomach of the bullock before the bundle was tied and carried down the hill.
After the animals had reached the valley below, they laid down their loads and prepared for the feast. A great surprise awaited them for when they opened the load that contained the stomach of the bullock, the Turtle crawled out.
Thereupon, the animals expelled the Turtle from their society and made him live in a desert place all by himself. Barren rocks and sandy wastes became his home, and he remained in constant danger of being trampled upon or crushed under the hooves of the buffaloes.