A Tale of Triumph and Redemption

Banta was renowned as the savanna's most fearsome hunter. Any animal within range of his spear was as good as dead, destined to be stripped, roasted, and devoured. Banta adhered to the ancient belief that anyone who killed a pregnant female or one accompanied by her young would be cursed to have no descendants. Nevertheless, Banta was the proud father of three beautiful children.

Every evening, he returned home with a bounty of game, adorning himself with foxes and squirrels around his neck, pouches full of hares and pigeons at his waist, and dragging zebras and antelopes by their feet. Yet he killed more than he and his family could consume, driven by a dark fascination with the bloodshed and the thrill of the hunt. Banta had another fondness—he loved to boast, and once he launched into a recount of his kills, no one could silence him.

Today, the creatures of the wild gathered beneath a grand mango tree to hold a council. It was time to take action and neutralize this relentless exterminator before they all fell victim to his spear or his snares. But who would dare to confront Banta the hunter? The lion lowered its head, suddenly engrossed by a passing ant. The rhinoceros had urgent appointments elsewhere, vital for its rhinoceros career. The elephant, too, felt unwell. He wasn't the only one.

"I think I've caught a cold too," the snake hissed.

As for the scavenger, perhaps he had consumed meat that was too fresh.

In the end, no one was daring enough to challenge Banta the hunter. The carnage would continue, and the savanna's animals' blood would flow until the very last drop.

That's when a tiny turtle stepped forward, volunteering to take action. She asked the other animals only one thing: to stay hidden the next day, to not leave their dens, burrows, or lairs under any circumstance.

Banta marched into the bushes, poking the underbrush with a stick, flipping stones, and then gazing helplessly at the empty sky. The savanna had never been so quiet. In vain, he searched for tracks in the sand or dust. Not a breath of life, not a flutter of wings, no crocodiles in the marshes. As night fell, empty-handed for the first time, Banta reluctantly set out on the journey back, his heart filled with anger and bitterness.

He hadn't imagined it. He had indeed heard the clear notes of a kora. First, it was the sound of the musical instrument, then a melodious song seemed to emanate from a cluster of tall grass. Intrigued, Banta approached cautiously. It was a very small turtle, merrily plucking the strings of her instrument while singing. "This will amuse my children," thought Banta, "and perhaps make them forget the failure of my hunt." He scooped up the singing turtle and placed her in a bag.

"Did you return without any game?" exclaimed his son upon seeing him enter the courtyard.

"I have something better," replied Banta. "Thanks to my cunning and skill, I have captured a singing turtle. Listen to her."

And in front of his family and the assembled neighbors, the docile turtle began to play her instrument and sing. Banta received their applause as though it were meant for him.

"I have a great opportunity to shine in front of the king with this turtle," he thought.

The next day, he presented himself at the palace and requested an audience.

"I have trained this little turtle to sing for you, noble king."

"Come back tonight. She will sing for the court."

And so the court gathered. Banta held the remarkable turtle in his hands. With a triumphant smile, he placed her on a stool and positioned her kora in front of her.

"Go on, sing."

But the turtle remained silent.

"Sing, come on!"

But the turtle remained silent.

"Sing, come on!"

Slowly, the turtle retracted her head and limbs into her shell. "Shame on Banta!" the king spat, for he did not appreciate being mocked. He ordered the braggart's execution, and a gallows was swiftly erected.

Now, it was Banta who was caught in a snare. He struggled and gasped but inexorably met his demise. In his final, convulsive throes, as he contorted in agony, a kora suddenly produced a few crystalline notes. Then, a small voice began to sing a strange and cheerful song, while a grimacing Banta breathed his last.