African folk story: oil palm trees
once upon a time, there was a couple who had been married for years and had no children.
the husband was very upset about this, and he took another wife.
one year after the marriage, his wife gave him a fat son.
he's happy.
he loves his son.
his love for his wife was much greater than his love for his ex-wife.
the ex-wife was very upset, and she was often in the empty room, crying all by herself.
one day, she went to work in the field and came home and saw a little oily palm tree: a tree which, though not high, was very strong and which had already been fertilized with a large berries.
the ex-wife looked at the oil palm tree and had to say something to herself.
i haven't had a child yet.
how nice it is to be a child." the little oily palms listened, shook the berries softly, and said, "madam, stop talking! i don't want to hear you say that.
if i were your son, i would have done something stupid, because you would think i was ugly and didn't like me." "no! on the contrary, i'd love to love you so much, and for you, i'd suffer so much." the little oil palm tree didn't squeak, but it shook its body and turned it into a strong little boy.
the ex-wife was so happy that she brought the boy home.
as she promised, she treats the little boy like she's born.
but the kid had a weird temper: no rice and flour, no meat and fish.
so what are we eating? only eggs are eaten, and very much, at least a dozen eggs per day.
the ex-wife was very curious, but was never able to solve the mystery.
she always tries to make eggs for her son.
one morning, the oil palm child fell asleep and the ex-wife had to work in the field.
before leaving, she put a few ripe eggs next to her son for food when he woke up.
at that point, the wife quietly slipped into her ex-wife's room.
the wife was a very bad-hearted woman who, in the absence of her ex-wife, stole all the eggs from the children of the oil palm tree and replaced them with a noodle.
later, the oily-treed child woke up and had to eat and his wife told him to eat noodles.
"o auntie, the oil palm boy shakes his head and says, "you know i don't eat flour.
why do you ask me to eat noodles? my mother must have left me eggs.
give me the eggs." "why are you so picky about eating? no! there's nothing but noodles." but the oily palms would rather be hungry than bumping into them.
at that point, the wife ran over and slapped him in the face and shouted, "good for you, you ugly little oil palm!" and it never occurred to me that, with the wife's scolding, the body of the baby oil palm turned back to the way it was: a blistering little oil palm tree with a bunch of fat oil palms.
her wife pulled the oil palms down, put them in the pot and set a fire down there.
the oily palms slowly boil