The Chain of Blame: Finding Justice for Teacher Goso

Have you ever wondered how far a chain of cause and effect might stretch? How one seemingly small action might connect to another, and another, creating an intricate web of consequences that lead to an unexpected outcome? Today's story explores this fascinating chain of relationships – and what happens when determined students seek justice.

Long ago, in a village where knowledge was treasured above all else, there lived a teacher named Goso. Unlike teachers today, Goso didn't teach in a schoolhouse with desks and chalkboards. Instead, he gathered his students beneath the shade of a magnificent calabash tree, where they learned to read surrounded by nature's classroom.

One peaceful evening, as the sun painted the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Goso sat beneath his calabash tree. Deep in thought, he studied the next day's lessons, unaware that this ordinary moment would be his last.

Up in the branches above, silent and stealthy, crept Paa the gazelle. The nimble creature had climbed the tree with one purpose – to steal some of the sweet calabash fruit. As Paa stretched toward a particularly tempting fruit, he accidentally knocked loose a heavy calabash. Down it tumbled through the leaves, striking poor Teacher Goso directly on the head.

The blow was fatal. By morning, when his devoted students arrived for their lessons, they found their beloved teacher lying motionless beneath the tree.

Grief washed over the students like a sudden storm. After carefully laying their teacher to rest with a proper burial, they gathered in a solemn circle. These weren't ordinary students – they were scholars who valued justice as much as knowledge. Together, they made a pact: they would find whoever was responsible for Goso's death and ensure justice was served.

After much discussion, the students concluded that the south wind must have been responsible, shaking the tree and causing the calabash to fall. So they captured the south wind and began to punish it.

But the south wind protested: "Wait! I am Koosee, the south wind. Why are you beating me? What have I done?"

"You know what you did," replied the students. "You threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You shouldn't have done it."

The south wind had a clever response: "If I were truly so powerful, would I be stopped by a simple mud wall?"

This made perfect sense to the students. They immediately went to find the mud wall and began to punish it instead.

But the mud wall cried out: "Hold on! I am Keeyambaaza, the mud wall. Why are you beating me? What have I done?"

"You know what you did," they answered. "You stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You shouldn't have done it."

The mud wall defended itself: "If I were truly so powerful, would I be bored through by a mere rat?"

So the determined students found the rat and began to punish it.

But the rat squeaked in protest: "Wait! I am Paanya, the rat. Why are you beating me? What have I done?"

"You know what you did," they explained with growing patience. "You bored through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You shouldn't have done it."

The rat had its own defense: "If I were truly so powerful, would I be eaten by a cat?"

And so the pattern continued. The students hunted down the cat and began to punish it.

But the cat meowed in protest: "Listen! I am Paaka, the cat. Why are you beating me? What have I done?"

"You know what you did," they recited, their explanation growing longer. "You eat Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You shouldn't have done it."

The cat purred its defense: "If I were truly so powerful, would I be tied by a rope?"

Next came the rope, which claimed it couldn't be so powerful if it could be cut by a knife.

The knife argued it couldn't be so powerful if it could be burned by fire.

The fire insisted it couldn't be so powerful if it could be extinguished by water.

The water maintained it couldn't be so powerful if it could be drunk by an ox.

The ox bellowed that it couldn't be so powerful if it could be tormented by a tiny fly.

And the fly – that small, buzzing creature – buzzed that it couldn't be so powerful if it could be eaten by a gazelle.

At last, the students' search led them to Paa, the gazelle. When they found him, they began to punish him too.

The gazelle protested: "Stop! I am Paa, the gazelle. Why are you beating me? What have I done?"

Now their explanation had grown into a magnificent chain of connections: "Yes, we know you are Paa; you eat Eenzee, the fly; that torments Ng'ombay, the ox; who drinks Maajee, the water; that puts out Moto, the fire; that burns Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You shouldn't have done it."

Unlike all the others, the gazelle had no clever defense to offer. Surprised at being discovered and afraid of the consequences of his actions – actions taken while stealing fruit – Paa the gazelle stood speechless.

The students nodded to one another. "Ah! He has no words to defend himself. This is the one who threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. We will have justice."

And so they punished Paa the gazelle, avenging the death of their beloved teacher.

The chain of blame had led them in a perfect circle, back to the true cause of their teacher's death. But was it the gazelle alone who was responsible? Or was it every link in this intricate chain that connected the smallest fly to the mightiest wind? Perhaps in seeking justice, we must consider not just the final action, but the complex web of connections that make our world function as it does.

What do you think? In your own life, how often do you consider the chain of events that leads to outcomes, both good and bad? And when something goes wrong, do you look only at the final action, or do you trace back the connections that might have contributed to that moment?

Maybe, like Goso's students, we all have something to learn about how everything in our world is connected – for better or for worse.