A TALE OF WITS AND WOUNDS
The elders say that before the sky shifted and before the rivers cut their paths, the animals still lived in one great valley where the sun warmed every back equally. In those days, Tortoise had not yet gained the hard reputation he now carries. He was not yet known as the “one-who-thinks-too-much.” He was simply Mbe, the slow creature who spent more time admiring flowers than worrying about the troubles of the world.
Elephant, on the other hand, was already Oke-Osisi, the great one who shook the ground when he walked. His steps were so heavy that the lizards hiding under stones would scramble for safety, worried the earth itself might crack.
Though the animals shared the same valley, their hearts were not equally matched. Elephant was strong—so strong that even his mistakes were forgiven simply because no creature wanted to anger him. Tortoise was weak—so weak that even his intelligence was dismissed as foolishness because he lacked the bigness others respected.
But life, as the elders say, is a pot of soup stirred by both strength and cunning.
And this is how the story begins.
**CHAPTER ONE
THE GREAT DROUGHT**
One season, without warning, the rains simply stopped.
The sky remained blue and empty. The clouds went away to sleep in distant lands. The wind lost its coolness. Day after day, the sun blazed mercilessly upon the valley. The rivers shrank, the grass yellowed, and the once-lively valley became a place where the sound of thirst replaced the sound of singing birds.
At first, the animals comforted themselves, saying, “Rain is only playing hide-and-seek. It will return.”
But weeks passed. Then months.
The small stream at the foot of the hill became a narrow ribbon of mud. The mighty river became a shallow trench where even frogs refused to sit.
Panic settled in.
The animals gathered at the meeting rock to speak about their survival. The elders among them—Leopard with his spotted wisdom, Buffalo with his deep voice, and Sparrow with her sharp tongue—took turns addressing the crowd.
“Something must be done,” Leopard said. “If we do nothing, we will shrivel like fallen leaves.”
But no one knew what that “something” should be.
That was when Elephant, swinging his massive trunk, trumpeted loudly, “I know what we should do! We must dig a great well. A well so deep it will reach where the hidden waters sleep.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
Elephant’s strength was unquestioned. If anyone could strike the earth and demand water, it was him.
And so the digging began.
**CHAPTER TWO
THE WELL OF HOPE**
At first, every animal offered help.
Even Tortoise, though he could barely lift sand with his tiny claws, came to push pebbles out of the way. Day after day, they dug—Elephant pulling out great heaps of soil, Buffalo stamping the ground to break it, and the smaller animals carrying the lighter dirt away.
But the sun showed no mercy.
After two weeks, the animals grew too exhausted to continue. One by one, larger animals began to withdraw from the task. Buffalo complained of aching hooves. Zebra claimed the dust irritated his stripes. Even Hyena, who boasted of his endurance, slunk away with excuses.
Only Elephant remained faithful.
Every morning, before the sun rose, Elephant returned to the digging site and continued the work. He dug until his massive body glistened with sweat. He dug until his trunk trembled. But still, no water.
And as Elephant tired, frustration turned to bitterness.
He would glare at passing animals, muttering, “They drink the water when it comes, but they do not work for it. I am the fool they are using.”
Word of his complaints spread.
The animals avoided him.
Only Tortoise continued visiting the well every few days, watching quietly as Elephant dug.
One afternoon, Elephant snapped at him.
“You small-shell creature,” Elephant snarled, slamming his foot against the dry soil. “Why do you come here? You cannot help me. You cannot dig. You cannot even fetch air properly.”
Tortoise swallowed his pride.
“I come because no one should labour alone,” he said softly.
Elephant laughed—a deep, booming laugh that rattled the branches overhead.
“You? Comfort me? Your voice is nothing. Your presence is nothing.”
Tortoise said nothing more. He simply turned and left slowly.
But he carried those words with him.
And they sat like stones inside his chest.
**CHAPTER THREE
THE DISCOVERY**
One night, long after the moon had risen, Elephant struck the ground with such force that the earth cracked—and from that crack emerged a cool, bubbling spring.
Water!
The well filled quickly. The animals, hearing the rumour, ran from all corners of the valley. They flocked like ants to spilled honey.
Elephant felt triumphant.
“They will now respect me,” he whispered to himself.
But as he looked at the crowd gathering around the well he had dug, something twisted inside him—a dark seed. He remembered how they left him to toil alone. How they only returned when water appeared.
As the first animal—Antelope—leaned forward to drink, Elephant slammed his trunk in front of him.
“No one drinks from this well unless I permit it!” Elephant declared. His voice thundered louder than a drum.
The animals froze.
“But Elephant,” Sparrow chirped nervously, “the water is for all of us. All of us will die without it.”
Elephant snorted.
“And when I needed help digging, where were you? When my muscles burned, who stayed with me? You all left me to struggle alone. Now you want to enjoy the fruit of my labour?”
Buffalo stepped forward. “Elephant, you are strong. Only you could have dug this far. We are grateful.”
“Your gratitude is nothing,” Elephant barked. “Pay tribute before you drink.”
The animals gasped.
“Tribute?” Leopard repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Since when did water become your private property?”
“Since my sweat filled this well,” Elephant replied. “Bring me food. Bring me fruits. Bring me whatever you have. Only then will you drink.”
Fear forced the animals to obey.
Every morning, they brought offerings. Elephant grew proud—and greedy. Soon, he demanded not only food but also praises spoken loudly before he allowed anyone to drink.
The valley became a place of thirst and humiliation.
Only Tortoise refused to approach the well.
**CHAPTER FOUR
THE INSULT THAT SPARKED A FIRE**
One evening, as Elephant stood beside the well enjoying a pile of ripe plantains offered by Monkey, Tortoise approached slowly.
Elephant squinted at him. “What do you want here? I thought you were too proud to bow before me like the others.”
Tortoise remained calm.
“I only came to offer congratulations. The valley would have perished without your strength.”
Elephant puffed up. “So you finally admit it. At last, you understand your smallness.”
Tortoise bowed slightly. “Strength has its place. And so does wisdom.”
Elephant’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you calling yourself wise, Tortoise?”
“I am calling myself nothing,” Tortoise replied. “But I know that even wells dug by strength can collapse without caution.”
The comment ignited Elephant’s anger.
He stomped forward, trunk raised.
“You dare speak of wells to me? You, who ran away when work was hard? You, who have done nothing but hide in your shell like a coward?”
Tortoise’s heart pounded, but he held his composure.
“I hide because my body is fragile,” he said. “But even fragile creatures survive when they use their head.”
Elephant burst into cruel laughter.
“Your head? Your head is only good for balancing that foolish shell.”
The animals nearby giggled.
Humiliation tightened Tortoise’s throat.
“But since you love your shell so much,” Elephant continued, “let me teach you a lesson. From today, you are forbidden to drink from this well. In fact, you must not come near it again.”
Tortoise stiffened.
“Elephant, even the smallest creature needs water.”
“Then go and find your own!” Elephant boomed. “Since you think you are so wise.”
Tortoise turned slowly and walked away.
He did not look back.
But that night, he lay awake, his mind spinning like a pot stirred too quickly.
Elephant thought strength ruled the world.
Tortoise decided it was time to prove him wrong.
**CHAPTER FIVE
THE PLAN OF SMALL BEGINNINGS**
For three days, Tortoise disappeared from the valley.
Some animals whispered that he had accepted his fate. Others believed he would soon die of thirst.
But on the fourth day, Tortoise reappeared—not in the valley but near Elephant’s favourite resting tree.
He watched silently as Elephant drank deeply from the well, splashing water around in unnecessary luxury.
Then Tortoise walked into the bushes and returned with a strange bundle of sticks, leaves, and Musa plant fibers woven into a small basket-like contraption.
He placed it near Elephant’s path.
Elephant noticed it and snorted.
“What foolish thing is this? Another one of your pointless inventions?”
Tortoise smiled faintly.
“Pointless? Perhaps. But one never knows until one tries.”
Elephant shook his head. “Whatever game you are playing, it will fail. You cannot challenge me.”
Tortoise bowed slightly. “We shall see.”
Elephant’s anger simmered.
**CHAPTER SIX
THE TRAP OF THE THIRSTY GIANT**
That night, under the cover of darkness, Tortoise carried out his plan.
He went to the far side of the well and used his strong, sharp beak to loosen the soil Elephant had left unreinforced. He dug slowly, shaping a narrow tunnel underneath the well’s rim.
Then he wove branches together, creating a fragile but deceptive support that looked solid from above.
It took all night.
By dawn, the trap was ready.
When the sun rose, Tortoise positioned himself near the well, pretending to admire the morning light.
Soon, Elephant arrived, yawning loudly, his heavy steps shaking the loose soil around the well.
“What are you doing here again?” Elephant asked suspiciously.
“I have only come to watch greatness,” Tortoise replied.
Satisfied with the flattery, Elephant approached the well’s edge—the exact spot Tortoise had weakened.
He lifted his trunk proudly, preparing to drink—when the earth beneath him crumbled.
With a thunderous crash, Elephant fell halfway into the well, his hind legs dangling helplessly above ground.
The animals nearby gasped and came running.
Elephant trumpeted in panic.
“Tortoise! Help me! Someone help!”
Tortoise approached slowly.
“Ah, but Elephant,” he said softly, “you alone dug this well. You alone claimed it. You alone made the rules. Surely you do not need help from those too small or too foolish to matter.”
Elephant’s eyes widened.
His pride cracked under the weight of desperation.
“Please… help me,” he begged.
Tortoise did not smile. His voice remained calm but firm.
“If I help you, the well becomes the valley’s well again. No more tributes. No more bullying. No more humiliation.”
Elephant hesitated—but the mud was creeping up his sides.
“Agreed!” Elephant shouted.
Tortoise nodded.
“Good.”
Then he instructed the other animals to bring strong ropes made from palm fibers. Working together, they tied the ropes around Elephant’s massive body.
Even the smallest animals—Squirrel, Rabbit, and Weaverbird—pulled with all their might.
After hours of effort, Elephant was freed and lay panting on the ground.
Humility replaced pride.
He looked at Tortoise with new eyes.
“You saved my life.”
Tortoise bowed slightly. “One must save even those who insult us. That is what wisdom teaches.”
Elephant swallowed hard.
“I was wrong,” he admitted. “The well belongs to all.”
And with that, he announced to every creature present that the valley’s water was now free for everyone.
**CHAPTER SEVEN
THE VALLEY OF BALANCE**
The drought eventually ended.
The rains returned, blessing the valley with fresh life.
Grass grew tall again. Rivers regained their strength. Trees blossomed with new leaves. The valley took a deep breath after surviving a season of thirst and conflict.
Elephant changed after the incident.
He no longer demanded tributes or praises. He learned that power without compassion becomes tyranny, and strength without humility leads to downfall.
Tortoise, too, gained a new reputation.
The animals no longer mocked his slow movements. They respected his mind. They sought his counsel in difficult times. And when a problem arose in the valley, the elders would ask:
“What does Tortoise think?”
Because wisdom, once underestimated, had proven itself stronger than muscle.
MORAL OF THE STORY
Strength can dig a well,
but only wisdom can keep it standing.
Pride may build a throne,
but humility keeps it from collapsing.
And so the tale of Tortoise and Elephant continues to be told across generations—
a reminder that the smallest creature can humble the greatest,
and the greatest can learn from the least.
