Adapted from an Ancient Bantu fable

Once upon a time and long
ago, there was a great famine across the valley. All the plant life withered
and died, and the creatures of the valley had no more food to eat. They
searched long and hard for even the tiniest scrap of food, but to no avail. It
looked as though starvation would soon come to the valley.
The various creatures who
lived in the valley (and they were numerous and varied—big lions and bears,
little mice and lizards and everything in between, every animal you could think
of) began to get worried. Some just panicked and assumed the worst would
happen. Some of the bigger animals began eyeing the littler animals greedily. Dana the Hippo went mad immediately and began
trying to chew rocks until several others restrained her.
President Roosevelt
(that’s Roosevelt Parrot, a big green bird who beat Lanford the Lion in the
recent election; the name is a meaningless coincidence) saw that there was
trouble and called an emergency town meeting so that a solution could be met.
All the animals gathered at Town Hall and waited as President Roosevelt flapped
over to the podium.
“My fellow citizens,”
began the President, “I do not need to tell you the severity of this situation.
Without fruit, vegetables, roots and herbs, we might have to go back to the old
ways of Survival of the Fittest.” This comment sparked a wave of murmurs to
spread through the crowd. Mostly of the “oh no, anything but that” variety, but
then again there were the occasional “sounds fine to me!” followed by sideways
glances at some of the smaller and more delicious animals. “Rest assured,” the
President continued, “we are looking for solutions. I have several teams throughout
the town searching for anything we can plant and collecting the last of the
food, which we shall ration. In the meantime…well, we’re open to ideas.”
“I SAY WE PANIC!!!” shouted
a chimpanzee in the back row. Without waiting for a response, he began jumping
up and down, hanging from the ceiling and was chattering nonsensically under
his breath when a couple of rhinos grabbed him and took him out back.
The other suggestions were
not much better. Some said that research could be done with any existing fruit
to genetically engineer some more. Most of the others thought that this made no
sense and it was quickly discovered that the one who said it was in the wrong
story, and was silenced.
“What about…the Magic
Tree?”
Everyone was silent. All
eyes turned to Oldare, the old hare who had made this wild suggestion. Nobody
had even mentioned the Magic Tree for ages. It was considered a lost cause.
A legend of the valley
told that, centuries ago, the Tree bore beautiful and delicious fruit which
provided all the health and nutrition each animal needed, while automatically
tasting like that creature’s favorite food. It would never run out of fruit for
ten thousand years, and if you plucked a piece of fruit from the branch,
another would instantly grow to fill its place. But the tree had been barren
for some time now and the only way you could get it to bloom again…was to say
its name. And nobody alive remembered the name of the Tree. This problem was
addressed at the town meeting, but no practical solutions were offered with the
exception of several cries from Batrick the Badger to the effect that the
Tree’s name was probably “Jeff.”
“I say we chop the darn
thing down and dig out the fruit ourselves,” said the beavers.
“I say we burn it. Maybe
the fire will bring help,” said the rhinos.
“I say we—” began the mongooses…mongeese? Mon—never
mind. Before whoever they were could finish, Oldare the Old Hare began banging
his walking stick on the ground as hard as he could. Once he was sure he had
their attention he spoke to the people of the town…well, I say “people”
obviously they weren’t really…sorry.
Oldare said, “I say…we go
to the Cave of Knowledge .”
Again, this was a pretty
radical suggestion. Those who weren’t already convinced of it were now certain
that the hare was mad as a March…well, a hare. A March hare. Everyone again
began whispering and talking at once.
“He’s mad!”
“It’ll never work!”
“Who even knows the way?”
“I still say it’s ‘Jeff.’”
“I don’t understand,” said
Ribbit the Frog, who was young and knew little of such things. “What is the Cave of Knowledge ?”
“Many leagues
from this place,” began Oldare, “is Mount
Wokkawokkadoodoo .” Here
he paused until the younger animals had finished giggling. They had no way of
knowing that in the ancient language of the animals “Wokkawokkadoodoo”
translated as “a solemn and dignified place which is to be taken very seriously
and not laughed at under any circumstances.” Once the kids (and some of the
more childlike adults) had quieted down, Oldare went on: “At the summit of the
mountain is the Cave
of All Knowledge . Inside
the Cave lives the Spirit of All Wisdom, who speaks in the Voice of All
Cleverness…or something like that. Anyway, the spirit knows everything, so if
you go in, stand on the platform and say, ‘O, Great Spirit, answer my
question!’ You can find out anything you want!”
“Ridiculous!”
said Eliza the Surprisingly Small Elephant (who, though fully grown, stood at
the Surprisingly Small height of one and a half feet, a fact which, though
interesting, has nothing whatsoever to do with the story). “No one can do it!”
“I can!” cried
Fernando. Fernando was a handsome young stag who was envied and admired by the
other animals of the town. In particular, he was favored among the other stags
for his large and beautiful antlers, which were the envy of his
kinsmen…kinsdeer…whatever. Once he had volunteered for the mission, everyone
began to get on board, knowing that Fernando was loyal and true and never let
anyone down. So, to tumultuous applause, Fernando ran to the Cave of Knowledge .
When he arrived
he did as the Old Hare said. He went inside, stood on the platform and said,
“O, Great Spirit, answer my question!”
“Speak and I shall answer,” responded a
beautiful voice so strong and impressive it could only be written in boldface.
“What is the
name of the Magic Tree that grows in the Valley?”
“The name of the tree is…Oowungalaymah!”
There was a
curious sort of silence. “What was that?” said Fernando.
“The name of the tree is…Oowungalaymah!”
“Oowungalaymah?
That’s its name?”
“Yes.”
“But that’s a
really stupid name.”
“Hey, I just give the information, okay? Now go back to your valley and don’t forget the name!”
Without stopping
to thank the Spirit, Fernando ran as fast as he could back to the village. He
knew he had to go fast or else he’d never remember the name. But as he was
running, he forgot to look where he was going and he came upon some low-hanging
vines and his beautiful antlers got caught. He struggled hard to get free and
finally did. But the struggle had so preoccupied him that he had forgotten the name
of the Tree! He returned to the valley in shame.
And a new
volunteer had to be selected. (“Jeff?”)
The Cheetah,
Lotus Flower, knew that she could run faster than the stag and remember the name.
She was the fastest cheetah in the valley, and would usually arrive somewhere
well ahead of her friends just so that she could go “What took you so long?”
when they caught up to her. She too ran to the Cave of Knowledge ,
went inside, stood on the platform and said, “O, Great Spirit of Knowledge,
answer my question!”
“Speak,” said the Spirit, “and I shall answer.”
“What is the
name of the Magic Tree that grows in the Valley?”
“The name of the tree is…Oowungalaymah!”
“Oowungalaymah?
Seriously”
“Yes.”
“But that’s—”
“Yeah, I know. Can you just go?”
So, without a
word of thanks to the Spirit, Lotus Flower ran and ran as fast as she could.
She saw by the position of the sun in the sky that she was making very good
time. Perhaps I can afford a little break, she thought. And she curled up under
an invitingly shady tree to “rest her eyes.” Resting her eyes soon became
sleeping and when she awoke, she found she had completely forgotten the name.
She too returned to the village a failure.
“I told you no
one could do it!” said Eliza. “There’s not one animal here who can get the Name
back without—”
“I know one who
can,” said Oldare the Old Hare. “Someone who will save us all!”
“You can’t go!”
said an old mallard. “You are too old!”
“Not me, Tom…Him!”
And Oldare, in his infinite wisdom, pointed to a turtle. This was a very small
turtle with very few friends and large, horn-rimmed glasses. He was something
of an outcast among his kind because he moved slowly even for a turtle. His
name was Greg and he looked up when he was identified and said, simply, “Okay.”
The townsfolk protested, but seeing no other alternative, allowed him to go.
Before he went,
Greg went and spoke to his mother, which is usually a good idea when you’re
about to embark on some manner of adventure. “How do you remember something
that’s easy to forget?” asked Greg.
“Say it over and
over again,” said his mother. “And don’t stop for any reason.”
So Greg set off
for the Cave of All Something at the top of Mount
What-the-heck. He moved very slowly, but he knew the way. Finally after much,
much walking he arrived at the Cave, went inside and (with some difficulty)
climbed up onto the platform. Then he said, “O, Great Spirit, answer my
question.”
“Speak and I shall answer,” said the
Spirit who had not worked this much in a long time.
“What is the
Name of the Tree that grows in the Valley?”
(Sigh) “The Name of the Tree
is…Oowungalaymah!”
“Will you say it
once more, please?”
“Oowungalaymah?”
“One more time,
if you would be so kind.”
“Oowungalaymah!”
“Thank you,”
said the Turtle, and he started to go.
“Wait,” said the Spirit. “Aren’t you going to say that it’s a
stupid name for a tree?”
“Stupid name for
anything, really,” replied Greg and off he went. He walked the whole way home,
all the while muttering the name of the tree (“Oowungalaymah, Oowungalaymah…”)
under his breath. He passed under the vines that Fernando the Stag got caught
in, and he said “Oowungalaymah, Oowungalaymah…” He passed the tree where Lotus
Flower the Cheetah took her cat nap, and he said “Oowungalaymah,
Oowungalaymah…” He arrived at the gates of his town and his mother was waiting
for him.
“You have
traveled a long way,” she said. “Don’t you want to take a rest?”
But her son just
said “Oowungalaymah, Oowungalaymah…” and marched straight to the Magical Tree.
When they saw him coming, all the animals of the valley began to gather under
the barren branches of the wondrous tree. Finally, at long last, Greg was
standing before the Tree, and he took a deep breath and said, “Your name
is…Ongo-lay-wah-moo!” But he knew that was wrong so he shut his eyes tight and
concentrated as hard as he could and said “Oowungalaymah!” And no sooner had he
said it than the branches of the Magical Tree began to bear fruit. Bottleneck
the Giraffe took the first bite.
“It’s the most
delicious fruit I ever ate! Way to go, Greg!”
And so it was
that for the rest of their lives, the animals of the Valley ate the
Oowungalaymah Fruit from the Oowungalaymah Tree and, despite the fact that they
now had a big, long, hard-to-say word in their day-to-day vocabulary, lived
quite happily ever after.
…And now, my friend…can YOU remember what was the name of that tree?
This is just one of the many enchanting fairy tales to be found in my book Once Upon a Time and Long Ago, available HERE for your Kindle or other portable device.
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