Royal Servant
The king of kamera in Africa was a
proud and stern man, feared by all his subjects. One day while sitting in his
mud palace, surrounded by fawning courtiers and watched by a multitude of
people who had come to see him, he was suddenly overcome by a sense of grandeur
and loudly declared that he was master of the world and that all men were his
servants.
You are mistaken, said a frail voice.
‘All men are servants of one another.
A deathly silence followed the
remark. The blood froze in the veins of the people assembled there. Then the
king exploded in anger.
‘Who said that!’ he demanded, rising
from the royal stool. ‘who dares suggest that I am a servant!’
‘I do’ said a voice in the crowd, and
the people parted to reveal a white-haired old man, leaning heavily on a stout
stick.
‘who are you?’ asked the king.
‘I am Boubakar, ’ said the man. ‘We
have no water in our village. I have come to ask for a well to be dug there.’
‘So you are a beggar!’ roared the
king. Striding down to where the man stood. ‘Yet you have the temerity to call
me a servant!’
‘We all serve to one another.’ Said
Boubakar, showing no fear, ‘and I will prove it to you before nightfall.’
‘Do that,’ said the monarch. ‘Force
me to wait on you. If you can do that I will have not one but three wells dug
in your village. But if you fail, you’ll lose your head!’
‘In our village,’ said the old man,
‘when we accept a challenge, we touch the person’s feet. Let me touch your
feet. Hold my stick.’
The king took the stick and the old
man bent down and touched the monarch’s feet.
‘Now you may give it back to me,’ he
said straightening up. The king gave him back his stick.
‘Do you want any more proof?’ asked
Boubakar.
‘Proof?’ asked the king, bewildered.
‘You held my stick when I asked you
to and gave it back to me when I asked you for it,’ said the old man. ‘As I
said, all good men are servants of one another.’
The king was so pleased with
Boubakar’s wit and daring that he not only had wells dug in his village but
also retained him as his adviser.