TORTOISE, THE DOG, AND THE TOWER | AN AFRICAN FOLKLORE II

Hey guys, this is the second and concluding part of the series, for the first installment check link below:

TORTOISE, THE DOG, AND THE TOWER | AN AFRICAN FOLKLORE I

SOURCE

---

TORTOISE, THE DOG, AND THE TOWER | AN AFRICAN FOLKLORE II

---

“ALAS, my Dawg,” said tortoise to the dog—whose name was Dawg—“how do you do it, Dawg? How do you get fresher while we all look more like a rotten tomato every day?”

Now the dog was prepared to keep his secret, but tortoise was persistent, and with his persistence, he managed to convince Dawg to reveal his secret.

“Meet me by the spot below heaven at eight ‘o’ Clock.”

A full hour before eight ‘o’ clock, tortoise had arrived at the spot below heaven. Dog arrived about ten minutes after eight, walking suavely to meet his companion.

“Sorry I’m late.”
He said.

“Oh it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I would have waited for you till the end of time.”

The dog laughed, and after he was done, he ordered tortoise to shift a few paces backwards. Tortoise acquiesced, and immediately he was done, dog began to perform a rather weird dance ritual, flinging his arms wildly and flailing his legs. Then he began to sing, with the most beautiful voice tortoise had heard.

Then not long after dog began to sing—after about three iterations—tortoise found his mouth opened in disbelief, as he watched as a shiny rope appear from heaven.

“Well, climb on then,”
Said Dawg, hopping on the rope.

Tortoise climbed too, and when they arrived at heaven, he walked so hurriedly he arrived at Mrs. Dawg’s apartment faster than even dog himself.

Mrs. Dawg was expecting her son, however, and when she saw tortoise poke his head into the door, she welcomed him with a stick to his bald head, also knocking out some of his teeth in the process.

Dawg enjoyed the scene for a while, before intervening, explaining to Mrs. Dawg that he had brought tortoise because he was so miserable.

“I mean look at his neck,” said Dawg facetiously, “he looks like something off a horror movie.”

Then he added frankly that tortoise could indeed be trusted. Yet despite her son’s numerous exhortations, Mrs. Dawg would not be swayed.

Well, finally, she relaxed her stance a bit, and, just as tortoise had been expecting all day, they ate. And of course it was tortoise who did most of the eating. And even after he was done, he did not want to leave, but he knew, looking at Mrs. Dawg’s eye, that he had overstayed his welcome.

But he had devised a plan, you see.

After two more visits with Dawg, tortoise had finally committed the ritual and the lyrics to memory. So one night he called on all the nobles in the kingdom. “I know a place,” he said, “where all our problems would be solved; all our stomachs filled a million times over.”

“With food?”
Asked parrot.

“Yes, of course, with food.”
Answered Tortoise.

“Where is this place,”
The lion asked impatiently.

“Heaven,”
Tortoise answered.“Heaven.”

The animals were, of course, incredulous. The few who were compelled by hunger to believe, still ordered him to show them this heaven. And so when it was very dark, he took them to the dog’s spot under heaven, where Tortoise not only did the dance ritual but sang, too.

There was one slight problem, however. Tortoise’s voice was worse than a dying whale. And it was this unpleasantness that woke Mrs. Dawg from her sleep.

Mrs. Dawg was skeptical at first, of course. She remained pensive for a few minutes, allowing the iteration to go on longer than usual, but finally, having confirmed that the lyrics was perfect, she let down the rope.

If it were Mr. C-- telling this story himself, he would say, surely, that tortoise should not be blamed, for how on earth—and in heaven—was he to know that Mrs. Dawg had a looking-glass? And that with this looking-glass she would see him climbing up with the other animals?

So furiously Mrs. Dawg cut the shiny rope, knowing full well that by so doing she was not only breaking all contact with the animal kingdom forever, but with her own beloved son—who had saved her life—as well.

So tortoise fell and broke his shell, and has been trying to fit it together ever since.

Mr. C-- always finishes this story with a smile; and relates it to his second favorite—the biblical Tower of Babel.
Mr. C-- would say, that when humans or animals try to get to heaven, for whatever reason, just or unjust, something must always be broken. In the case of tortoise it was his shell, in the case of the tower it was Humanity’s voice.

And as for the matter of the morality in seeking to ascend heaven without a gateway—be it Dog or Death—even if for a greater purpose, only the storytellers could judge. And as for Mr. C--, well, he just sighs.

THE END.