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by
Hénock Gugsa
Hénock Gugsa
[Ethiopia is a land of fables. It is even said that the great fabulist, Aesop, was from Ethiopia. His name is presumed to be a derivation of Aethiop. Although the following fable is from Ethiopia, it is however not attributed to Aesop …. I, as the sole author, am here simply transcribing this tale from folklore in my own words. I beg your indulgence and forgiveness for the literary license I have taken in embellishing it.]
Once upon a time, ... long, long ago, there lived in the land of Ethiopia an old woman and her son, Sinzirro. The tree goddess, Adbar, had granted the lonely old woman her wish for a small child that would never grow to normal-size and would never leave his mother’s side ever. The old woman named the child “Sinzirro” because he did not grow any bigger than a thumb in size. In Ethiopia, a sinzir is the length-measure of a thumb … and so you might say that Sinzirro was the Ethiopian equivalent of Tom Thumb!
Now, there was a strong bond between the old woman and Sinzirro, and it was reinforced daily by her feeding him fresh milk from a jar. And Sinzirro loved the milk so much … he just could not get enough of it. He was always following his mother around and begging for milk all the time.
One day, the old woman was feeding Sinzirro his ration of milk from the jar. As usual, he was laid out on his little bed with his mouth wide open and he was gulping down the milk. He kept drinking that milk with the happiest glint in his eyes. His mother was so enchanted by his blissful face that she forgot that maybe he had had enough milk for now. But Sinzirro did not complain and kept on drinking and grinning. He started filling up … his naked belly was beginning to inflate and swell … it grew like a balloon filling with air. Sinzirro was so full he could hardly move. Then, suddenly his mother realized her mistake and stopped feeding the impish child.
As she was taking the milk away, one tiny droplet fell on Sinzirro’s belly button.
Sinzirro was not about to ignore that little bit of milk sitting atop the little hill of a tummy in front of him. He slowly raised himself up, and with tongue stuck-out, he began his lunge for the tempting thing on his belly. He arched forward and stretched … he moaned and groaned from the effort and the extreme discomfort … he still could not reach the object! But he was a persistent (if not too bright) child that had to have milk although it had never done anything for his growth. And now he could almost reach it ... he was close … victory was at hand ... only a little way to go!
In the other room, the old woman put the jar on a shelf … of-course Sinzirro would never be able to reach that droplet on his belly, she thought quizzically! Then before she turned to get back to her son, she heard a small tearing sound followed by a loud pop coming from the boy's room. She rushed over there … but alas! ... she was too late.
There before her lay the remains of Sinzirro … the balloon had finally snapped and popped. And now there was mostly milk all over the tiny bed ... and hardly anything left of Sinzirro!
Moral of the story: Greed is a destructive thing!
