PHANTOM TALES FROM BUSULU FOREST – Part Two

By Baba Galleh Jallow

 

 

Wula the fox was a refugee in Busulu forest. He and his family having suffered some strange misfortune in their forest of origin, Wula the fox had abandoned his dying parents and crept stealthily into Busulu forest in search of greener pastures, as the fabled cliche man would say.  So that when he managed to slip into the borders of the bountiful Busulu forest, he almost had to stay in total hiding. To avoid detection by the ever vigilant INS of Busulu forest, Wula sometimes dressed himself in green leafs and posed like a bush when any animal passed him by. Sometimes he stood erect on his hind legs and froze, posing as a rock to avoid detection. When he felt in real danger of being detected, Wula the fox smeared his entire body with red mud and suddenly froze at the slightest movement, pretending to be an anthill.

Ever the shady figure, Wula the fox spent most of his early days slinking on the dark fringes of Busulu forest. As much as possible, he avoided detection and only went hunting during the nights. During the day, he crept stealthily around looking for what prey to hunt when the night comes or slept the day away under the protective cover of some thick bush.

Elsewhere in Busulu forest, life went on as usual. Cheku the parrot told his endless tales. Buki the hyena stole other people’s food. Ngor Nopa endlessly played his unpleasant tricks on innocent folks and sometimes pretended to be Mansa Kumajang Gaindeharr. Nice Boy the monkey was always on the look-out for some mischief to make. Saa the snake, ever the celebrated liar, wove fantastic tales of pulp fiction around people’s lives and continued to wreck havoc on the stable relationships of unwary folks. Mbonat the tortoise, famous for his lackadaisical attitude, was mainly concerned with filling his shell and sleeping under the cool shades of big trees. Nyai the elephant, who was so dull of wit that he often forgot his name, wandered aimlessly around, going to great pains not to crush tiny animals under his massive feet. For stupid though he was, Nyai had a big, kind heart. Mbam the boar, hardly cleverer than Nyai, continued to be a co-victim of the vicious Ngor Nopa’s ugly tricks. Njoll the giraffe, ever-proud of his great height and his magical ability to eat from tree tops, gamboled gaily around, boasting of his height. The banished animals, poor old Spotty the tiger and Nyuleh the panther, quietly nursed their wounded egos in the remote corners of Busulu forest. There they laid their plans and bid their time when they would suddenly pounce on the pompous Mansa Kumajang Gaindeharr, tear him to pieces and assume leadership of the fabled Busulu forest. Every dog has its day, they often consoled each other.

At the onset of every cold season, when the rains had lessened or completely stopped, Mansa Kumajang Gaindeharr called a general council of all the animals on Busulu forest. At such a conference, under the wise guidance of Chokerr the bushfowl, Kumajang Gaindeharr gave a state of the forest address, reviewing developments, highlighting achievements and pointing out failures. It was here too that the animals expressed their opinions and views on developments in Busulu forest. It was here too, that new arrivals who wanted to be accepted into the Busulu forest community publicly stated their cases.  This was a rather risky business because if Mansa Kumajang Gaindeharr was not satisfied with an animal’s explanation, the said animal was immediately pounced upon and forcefully thrown out of Busulu forest. It was to this annual conference that the crafty Wula the fox came weeping and wailing, limping in all four legs, his long tail sadly drooping, wearing a haggard and mournful look on his gaunt face, which was totally awash with baleful tears of extreme remorse.

A few meters away from the large gathering of animals, Wula the fox had suddenly started weeping and wailing and turning all eyes towards his direction. All the animals were mighty amazed when they saw the poor stranger almost dragging himself from behind some bushes and painfully staggering towards them. ‘Help him, help him!’ Cheku the parrot shrieked, not able to hold his tongue at the sorry sight of the staggering stranger. ‘Give him a hand! Give him a hand! Cheku kindly shrieked, frantically flapping his wings, swaying this way and that, prompting a few strong animals to run to Wula’s aid and carry him moaning, groaning and wailing into the ring of animals. They gently placed him before the incredulous Mansa Kumajang Gaindeharr, who repeatedly asked, ‘Who are you? What’s wrong with you? Bending over, Chokerr the bushfowl whispered something into Kumajang Gaindeharr’s ear, while casting a suspicious glance in the direction of the moaning and groaning Wula, who looked as if he was going to die any moment.