In the vast, untamed savannahs of sub-Saharan Africa, there roams a creature both feared and admired: the Hertebeest, “Ọ̀chàchàkolo” (or “Ọ̀chà, for short), as it is known in the Igala language. This majestic African antelope (its other name), with its sleek body and powerful legs, is the epitome of speed, strength, and endurance. Capable of reaching speeds of up to 80 kilometres per hour, the Hertebeest is a symbol of agility in African folklore, a creature that no predator can easily catch, and no rival can easily defeat. But in the quiet corners of Igala mythology, there is a tale that defies the natural order, a story where the mighty Hertebeest meets its match—not in a lion or a leopard, but in a creature far less formidable: the Toad.
The Toad, or “Àkèlé” in Igala, is not a creature one would typically associate with strength or speed. Small, slow, and seemingly insignificant, the Toad is a humble denizen of the underbrush, more often heard croaking in the night than seen in the daylight. Yet, it is this unassuming creature that dared to challenge the Hertebeest – of all fast runners – to a race. The very notion seemed absurd. How could a Toad, with its stubby legs and sluggish movements, hope to compete with the Hertebeest, the king of speed? The Hertebeest itself was incredulous, its pride wounded by the audacity of the challenge. But pride is a dangerous thing; and so the Hertebeest, unable to resist proving its superiority, accepted the race.
On the day of the race, the savannah buzzed with anticipation. The Hertebeest stood tall, confident in its impending victory, while the Toad appeared calm, almost indifferent. As the signal to start was given, the Hertebeest surged forward, its powerful muscles propelling it across the plain with breathtaking speed. Yet, to its surprise, the Toad was not far behind. In fact, every time the Hertebeest glanced over its shoulder, it saw the Toad—sometimes ahead, sometimes beside; but never behind. The Hertebeest pushed itself harder, running faster and faster, its breath coming in sharp gasps as it tried to outpace its tiny competitor. But no matter how hard it ran, the Toad was always there, just out of reach.
What the Hertebeest did not know was that the Toad had employed a cunning strategy. Instead of relying on speed, the Toad had enlisted the help of its kin. A line of toads had been strategically placed along the race-course, each one popping up at just the right moment to give the illusion that the Toad was always ahead. The Hertebeest, too proud to consider the possibility of trickery, fell for the ruse.
As the race wore on, the Hertebeest grew increasingly desperate. How could it, the fastest animal in the land, be bested by a mere toad? The humiliation was too much to bear. In a final act of frustration and shame, the Hertebeest charged headlong into a tree, bashing its head repeatedly until it collapsed, lifeless, at the foot of the trunk.
The Toads, having won their victory through cleverness rather than brute strength, gathered around the fallen Hertebeest. They had outwitted their powerful opponent, but they were faced with a new problem: they were toothless and could not consume the meat of their fallen foe. Instead, they waited patiently, allowing the carcass to decompose. Then, in a grotesque feast, they swarmed over the remains, devouring what they could in a celebration of their hard-won triumph.
From this tale, the Igala people drew a lesson that has been passed down through generations: “Íbe kì défú àkèlé kì kpọ̀chà, Ọ́jọ́ jẹ́ ñwú áfẹla ñwu jẹ.” Translated, it means, “With the ingenious stratagem employed by the Toad to defeat the Hertebeest, may God enable him to enjoy the meal that took so much to plan.” The saying is a reminder that in life, it is not always the strongest who prevail, but those who use their wits and creativity to overcome challenges.
This story of the Toad and the Hertebeest is more than just a fable; it is a testament to the power of strategy, a celebration of the under-dog who, through cunning and collaboration, can triumph over the mightiest of adversaries. It teaches us that success is not solely the domain of the strong or the swift, but also of those who dare to think differently, to approach problems from new angles, and to use their intellect to turn the tables on those who seem invincible. In the end, the Toad’s victory is not just a tale of trickery; it is a story of resilience, resourcefulness, and the enduring belief that, with the right strategy, even the smallest of creatures can achieve greatness.
