By: Chioma Madonna Ndukwu
Africa’s Talking Drum: Parrot Remembered Every Lie
Long before hunters gave names to the footpaths of the great forest, the animals of Nkalagu gathered beneath an ancient iroko tree every Nkwo market day.
It was there they settled quarrels, welcomed newborns, shared news from distant streams and warned one another whenever danger drew near.
No animal loved those gatherings more than Parrot. He knew every path in the forest, every family that had welcomed new offspring and every quarrel that had begun before sunrise.
If two animals whispered beneath a palm tree, Parrot somehow knew what they had said before the day was over.
“A forest without news is a lonely forest,” he would often say, fluttering proudly from one branch to another.
One morning, Old Tortoise looked up at him and smiled.
“My friend,” he said, “ears were given to us to hear. Wisdom was given to us to know what should remain there.”
Parrot laughed.
“What harm can words do? They have no teeth.”
The old tortoise picked up a dry leaf and let the wind carry it away.
“Neither does the wind,” he replied, “yet look how many roofs it has removed.”
Parrot only laughed harder. As the weeks passed, he continued carrying stories from one end of the forest to the other.
One afternoon, Antelope sighed after losing a race to Gazelle.
“If Gazelle spent less time admiring himself,” he joked, “perhaps he would learn humility before old age finds him.”
It was nothing more than a passing remark between friends.
Before sunset, Parrot had repeated it to Gazelle.
“I thought you should know,” he said. “Antelope says your pride is growing faster than your legs.”
Gazelle’s smile disappeared.
“So that is what he thinks of me.”
The following market day, the two friends refused to greet each other.
Parrot watched them with surprise.
“I only repeated what was said,” he murmured.
A few days later, Monkey complained to Squirrel after dropping a basket of wild pears.
“If Elephant keeps blocking the narrow path with his enormous body,” Monkey grumbled, “one day the whole forest will need permission just to walk home.”
Squirrel laughed. It was forgotten almost immediately, but Parrot remembered.
Before evening, Elephant had heard every word. The great animal walked away without speaking, but from that day onward he no longer stopped beneath Monkey’s favourite fig tree to share fruit.
The forest grew quieter, as animals who once laughed together began choosing different paths.
Conversations became shorter, even as friendships became thinner. Still, Parrot could not understand why.
One evening, Lion called a meeting beneath the iroko tree.
“I have ruled this forest for many seasons,” he said, “but I have never seen trust disappear as quickly as it has these past months. Somebody is carrying words farther than they were meant to travel.”
Nobody spoke. Only Old Tortoise looked towards the branch where Parrot sat unusually still.
After the meeting ended, Tortoise walked beneath the tree.
“My friend,” he called gently, “come down.”
Parrot obeyed.
“Tell me,” Tortoise asked, “when Antelope joked with Gazelle, whose words were they?”
“Antelope’s.”
“And when Monkey complained after dropping his basket?”
“Monkey’s.”
“And after they trusted those words to another ear, whose responsibility did they become?”
Parrot hesitated.
“I… do not know.”
“They became yours.”
Parrot lowered his head.
“I never changed their words.”
“No,” Tortoise replied softly. “You changed where they belonged.”
Parrot flew away without another word. For the first time in many seasons, he spent the night alone.
A few days later, he perched quietly beside the river while speaking with Weaver Bird.
“I sometimes wonder whether Lion is becoming too old to rule,” Parrot whispered. “Perhaps he should rest before the younger animals lose confidence in him.”
Weaver Bird nodded thoughtfully. The conversation ended there. Or so Parrot believed.
The following morning, every animal in the forest was whispering.
“Lion heard what Parrot said.”
“They say Parrot wants another king.”
“I heard he called Lion weak.”
Parrot’s heart pounded.
“That is not what I said!” he protested.
“But that is what we heard,” Hyena replied.
Parrot rushed to Old Tortoise.
“My friend,” he cried, “someone has twisted my words.”
The old tortoise looked at him with gentle eyes.
“Does it hurt?”
Parrot nodded.
“It feels as though my own voice has turned against me.”
Tortoise sighed.
“Now you understand what others have carried in their hearts.”
Parrot remained silent for a long time.
When the next Nkwo gathering arrived, every animal expected another quarrel.
Instead, Parrot flew down from the highest branch and stood before the assembly.
“I have something to confess,” he began.
The forest became still.
“I believed every story deserved another listener. I thought repeating words made me important. I have now learned that words entrusted to us are like eggs placed in our hands. Once we drop them, no amount of regret can gather them whole again.”
No one interrupted him.
Parrot turned towards Antelope, Gazelle, Monkey and Elephant.
“I cannot collect every word I scattered, but I can stop scattering new ones. If forgiveness still lives in this forest, I ask for my share.”
For several moments, nobody moved. Then Old Tortoise slowly walked forward.
“My friends,” he said, “a tongue may wound many hearts, but a humble heart can begin to heal what a careless tongue has broken.”
Elephant stepped forward first, then Gazelle, then Monkey. One after another, the animals gathered around Parrot, not because they had forgotten what had happened, but because every forest grows stronger when truth is followed by repentance.
From that day onward, Parrot still listened more than most animals. The difference was that he no longer believed every secret needed wings.
Whenever young birds asked why he sometimes smiled without repeating the latest rumour, he would simply look towards the old iroko tree and say, “Some stories become wiser the day they find no second tongue.”
Moral: A secret trusted to your ears is not an invitation to your mouth. Words can travel farther than feet, and once released, even the fastest bird cannot bring them back.
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