“When Koko had managed to reach in the basket unobserved and remove a totem, he felt very clever. Now he had power from the gods! Such mischief he might work against all his enemies who laughed at him! And he stole away chuckling to himself. But the gods soon stopped him and demanded the return of their property. And they condemned him to death, but being fair-minded allowed him to choose the method of his execution. Without hesitation, Koko said, ‘Old age.’
“The answer impressed the gods, and they knew no ordinary ape could have stolen a totem. So they let Koko go on his way and keep the totem, but only to use for good. They warned him that the day he cast a spell of harm he would surely die, and not of old age! For that reason, Koko became a great healer--the first shaman. And though he worked no harm, his enemies ceased to laugh at him, so his days were long and happy in the earth.”
The Council of Elders was upset. The rivalry between Kinara and Maloki who lived just across the creek had always been a source of controversy, but it was usually handled on a personal basis and rarely involved the entire council.
Chango and Bugweto had been to the creek for water. Everyone knew how much Maloki had been charging for water rights, for he had claimed to own the creek right up to the opposite bank. But when some of his people were pulling fruits from the breadfruit tree that hung out over the water, that was too much.
“It is rooted on our bank! It is our tree!” Kinara charged. “This is an outrage!”
Azima, Maloki’s son, was equally adamant. “We only pull fruit that hangs out over the water. There is no way you could pick that fruit without trespassing!”
“We are not trespassing when we pay rent!” Bugweto shouted.
“The rent is for water. For water! You may pick all the fruit that hangs over land. That is legal. That is fair before the gods! Must I remind you that we had an honorable agreement?”
“At your rental fees, there are no honorable agreements,” Kinara said, his arms crossed. “However, we have with us an unimpeachable voice where the law is concerned.” He nodded at Busara. "Everyone knows that his word is impartial and honest. So, what say you, Scribe?"
Busara looked thoughtful. He walked between Kinara and Azima who were standing dangerously close. “Once there were two brothers. They both fought long and hard over a great prize for five days and nights. They did not eat or sleep. Finally on the fifth day, they both collapsed exhausted. And while they were asleep, a stranger came in and stole the prize.”
“What are you saying?” Azima said.
“When the tree is ripe, remove all the fruit into one large pile. Then divide it equally between our villages.”
“Fine and good,” Kinara said. “But I will do it personally. Azima is a cheat like his father.”
“I?? I’M a cheat??”
“Please, distinguished opponents....” Busara put a hand on each of the two mandrills. “I have an answer. One of you will divide the pile into two groups, and the other can take his group first. That way, no one would dare cheat.”
“But why would I give him anything?” Kinara said. The others nodded and murmured. “Why should I even honor his claim?”
Busara took Kinara out of hearing range, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Maloki likes nothing better than to make you angry,” he whispered, glaring at Azima. “If you are generous and give him fully half, you will take away his excuse to curse you behind your back. He will be miserable.”
Kinara thought a moment, stroked his chin whiskers moodily, then smiled. “I like that. And next time he accuses me of being greedy, I shall remind him!”
Kinara came back. With a kindly smile, he patted Azima on the back. “My boy, you are right. We will give you half of the fruit as my friend has suggested. By all means. Maybe even more. Why not take it all? We don’t need the extra fruit.”
Azima began to look uncomfortable. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, not at all! It’s wonderful. I hope you enjoy it. Why not take some home with you?”
Azima began to scratch his head. “Now wait a minute here! What did Busara tell you just now?”
“He told me that it is more blessed to give than to take.”
Azima looked around at the others. He began to tremble as he met each pair of eyes, looking for some hint. “Like hell he did!” he shouted, throwing up his hands. “You’re all a bunch of scheming, lousy good-for-nothings! Do you think I’m stupid?? Keep the fruit! I hope you DO eat it! By the gods, I hope whatever you planned falls back on you threefold!”
Azima stormed out. For several moments, there was not a word, not a sound. Then when he was out of hearing range, Kinara began to chuckle, then he burst out in laughter, putting his arm around Busara’s shoulder. “You no-account scheming little devil you! I didn’t know you had it in you!”
Busara smiled, but his heart was not in it.
After the meeting, Kinara took Busara aside. “I’d like to show my appreciation, old friend. I want you to be my chief advisor. You know that is second in power only to me, and I offer it because you are as shrewd as you are honest.”
Busara looked uncomfortable. “Thank you, my chief, but perhaps I’m not as shrewd as you think--or as much as I should be.”
Kinara smiled, but laid his hand on Busara’s shoulder a bit firmly. “Save your double speaking for them. When I want a good riddle, I’ll ask you as Chief Scribe. Right now I need one word. It sounds exactly like ‘yes’.”
“I’m sorry, my friend. I’m not the type you need.”
“Oh?”
“With all due respect, you want to win at all costs. It has become your fruit and your water. What you desire most becomes your god, but when you die, earthly powers will desert you. Only love can bear your soul to the Blessed Realm.”
“Are you calling me irreligious?”
“No, old friend. I’m calling you precious and one of a kind. A child of the gods. I want something for you greater than this world has to offer. Go home tonight and kiss your wife. Speak to your son Makedde. Make peace with the boy and realize how much he still loves you. These are more important than all the breadfruit in the world.”
Kinara looks at him undecided. But he recognized the kindness in Busara’s voice and patted him on the back. “You’re beginning to sound just like my mother. I’m a big boy now, and I can look out for myself. As for my son Makedde, I pray for him every night.”
When Busara saluted him and went back toward his cave, Kinara leaned over to one of his lackey guards nearby. "Take Uwezo and follow him. See what he’s up to."