33. Ijapa (Tortoise) stole yam from his in-law

Many, many years ago, in the town called Lagoni, in a far, far away land, there lived a tortoise, Ijapa, whose father-in-law was a snail (Igbin). At that time the world was very different from the way it is today. Human beings and animals had a lot in common. They lived side by side, intermingling freely. They spoke the same language and generally behaved the same way, so much so that animals were addressed and referred to as humans. Some animals possessed remarkable physical and mental capabilities, the tortoise (Ijapa), being example of this phenomenon.

Igbin was reputed to be the most successful farmer in town. A farmer to the core, he was very hardworking and good with his hands – always tilling his land.

“No wonder his crops are growing in abundance” others were always saying.

Igbin had a very big farm on the way to the town’s main market where he grew many things. There were layers and layers of corn, yams, coco-yams, sweet potatoes, bananas, for example. He had more than enough to eat; he had done very well for himself, and was happy and contented.

Igbin was happily married, and had lovely sons and daughters. His daughters were the talk of the town – sought after for their beauty. All the males in town found them irresistible, and were competing to be Igbin’s son-in-law. They wanted to marry ‘a rich man’s daughter’ as well. Igbin was very much aware of the motives of these suitors, and was protective towards his daughters.

“Let them compete for the hands of my daughters all they want. If my daughters choose to marry any of them, I won’t stand in their way. I can only advise my daughters, of course, but leave them to make their own choice – as long as I’m convinced that my daughters are not being advantage of for my wealth, and that whoever marries them can provide adequately for them. If whoever it is take advantage of my situation any time thereafter, that individual will find in me a force to reckon with” Igbin was often heard saying. No one was surprised by his attitude.

Igbin was notorious for being ruthless and vindictive when crossed. He did not take kindly to being taken advantage of – would not take any behaviour in that direction lying low. He was strict – a disciplinarian.
Ijapa was among the competitors for the hand of Igbin’s daughters in marriage. It was the last born herself – the favourite of her parents – that he had designs on because of the advantages that he thought were in it for him.

“I’m interested in marrying one of these girls, and what’d be better than choosing the last born – the father’s favourite. If I can marry Mobọlade, the last born, I’ll never be hungry again. Her father dotes on her, and she and her mother are inseparable. There’s no way the love they have for their daughter will not rub off on me…”

Ijapa was no longer with Yannibo, the woman he had married, who had left him twice to go and live with her parents, so the coast was clear as far as he was concerned.

“All I have to do is to convince the father that I’m worthy of his daughter by making him believe that I’m a farmer like him, and doing very well. As for the daughter I must present myself as the most caring creature on earth. I must endear myself to her, shower her with presents and affection, and so on…”

So Ijapa started to woe Igbin’s daughter, Mobọlade, much to the concern of all the other animals who started to gossip about it, especially when it looked as if he was making a headway.

“Ijapa of all creatures! That lazy so-and-so. There’s no way Igbin would allow him to marry his daughter unless he doesn’t know his reputation. Ijapa’s not to be trusted. He’s just after Igbin’s wealth. Igbin would be making a big mistake to let Ijapa marry her” they were all saying.

“Oh no! Igbin won’t give his consent to any being unless he’s convinced that they’re not marrying his daughters for his money.”

“But supposing Ijapa puts on an act now to win father and daughter over, and later comes out in his true colours, what do you think would happen?”

“Surely as his son-in-law Ijapa will not go as far as swindling Igbin – doing him out of his things, or anything like that?!”

“Well, he’d better not, because Igbin is not someone one crosses easily. He can be vindictive, ruthless – son-in-law or not.”

Ijapa was not only very lazy, he was also a cunning creature, full of mischief and pranks, who got into trouble often for his misdeeds, and was injured, punished, sentenced to death or driven away by the Ọba of his town. Sometimes he would leave a town of his own accord, disgraced and embittered, to find somewhere else to live.

Despite his faults Ijapa was very popular in some quarters – among humans and animals alike. He was witty, and entertaining, especially when he fell flat on his face. He was resourceful and resilient which others found admirable. Ijapa was always boasting that he could find solutions to any problems, and had been known to come up with answers to problems that defied many others, mainly through ruse.

Ijapa knew that the other animals were gossiping about him, so he put on his best behaviour as he wooed Mobọlade, Igbin’s daughter. He was very caring and considerate. He gave her presents, made himself dependable by offering to do things for her, and seeing them through. The help, advice and all the attention he gave her whenever he came to their house made him indispensable in her eyes.

Ijapa pretended that he had a small farm and that he worked hard at it. He took Mobọlade to a farm just outside the town which he pretended was his. Mobọlade, unsuspecting, did not ask any questions when Ijapa merely pointed at the farm, saying: “You see, we won’t be needing anything from your father’s farm, if you marry me.”

Igbin was well aware of Ijapa’s reputation. He was extremely cautious about his daughter marrying him, and warned her, despite Ijapa’s efforts to make himself worthy of both father and daughter.

“How would he provide for you for a start? It’s prỌbably my wealth that interests him!” Igbin pointed out to her.

“Father, Ijapa has a farm outside the town, and has taken me there. He’s hardworking. He’s told me how hard he works at the farm, and I can see it by looking at all that is grown there. Father, whatever is said about Ijapa, he must be a changed being now”.

Believing that Ijapa did take Mobọlade to his farm and shown her around, Igbin was somewhat placated.

“Well, it won’t be a bad thing after all, marrying you off to a farmer like myself” he answered, relaxing a little. What his daughter was saying about Ijapa was gradually winning Igbin over. He was happy that Ijapa was a farmer like himself, or so he thought.

“Perhaps it’ll be a good thing to have Ijapa around – show him around our farm, you know…Hum!”

“Yes. Ijapa has been so attentive, so caring, and kind to me.”

“So, I’ve noticed!”

“Father, I prefer him to the others. We really get on well together. We love each other.”

“All right, my dear. Perhaps the others are jealous of Ijapa because you’re everyone’s darling, and have chosen him” Igbin relented, winking at his daughter. I’ll speak to him, ask him questions, as a farmer to another farmer, about what he’s doing, to ascertain that he can indeed provide adequately for you, and if I’m satisfied about the whole thing, then wedding bells for you!”

Igbin questioned Ijapa about his circumstances, about his farm – farmer to farmer – and Ijapa, who had once owned and run a farm successfully, was able to meet up to Igbin’s expectations from the questions put to him. Indeed, Igbin was so highly impressed by Ijapa’s show of knowledge about the ins and outs of a farm that he made a mental note that Ijapa would be an asset to him as a son-in-law in this area. He did not verify Ijapa’s claim to a farm – an unfortunate mistake.

This was how Ijapa fooled Igbin and his daughter into thinking that he owned a farm and was doing very well whereas in reality he was lazy and did nothing. It was someone else’s farm that he claimed as his own.

Igbin consented to his daughter marrying Ijapa, and gave her a big and lavish wedding that was to be the talk of the town.

“I hope Igbin won’t regret letting his daughter marry Ijapa” some people were saying.

When Mobọlade started living with Ijapa as his wife, in his house, Ijapa, the husband experienced a lot of difficulties in putting food on the table. He had told a lie about being a farmer – about having his own farm and doing well, and he had no choice but to perpetuate the lie. He started to steal from the same farm that he had passed off as his own. He would leave home every day, very early in the morning, and come back late in the night bringing along yams, corn, vegetables, cassava – everything they needed to eat, and they would eat and drink to their hearts’ content. Mobọlade was in raptures believing that her husband had a livelihood – not knowing that Ijapa was stealing all these crops, pretending to be harvesting them from his own farm. She even offered to help him out at the farm.

“Don’t forget that I’m a farmer’s daughter, and I used to love going to the farm with my father. I know how to till the ground, and pluck crops.”

“Whenever I ask him to let me go with him and help him at the farm he won’t hear of it, father. ‘You’re my wife. “’Don’t worry your pretty head. My wife is not made to do any dirty work like hoeing. A woman’s place is in the home. Your place is here at home’ he says.” Mobọlade complained later to her father.

Igbin chuckled. “Good for him!”

As time went by Igbin became more and more reassured that Ijapa as doing well for himself, and drew him closer thinking he could trust him.

They were in and out of each other’s home. He had taken Ijapa to his farm and showed him around.

“Help yourself” he had said to him, to Ijapa’s delight.

Any time Ijapa wanted to pay Igbin a visit he would make sure that Igbin was at the farmland. Igbin started discussing his farm with him, telling him everything that was going on there, consulting him on issues relating to the farm. Ijapa soon knew the ins-and-outs of all the crops and other things. He would engage Igbin in conversation about the farm, trying to show a lot of knowledge about crops, etc, always trying to help.

“We’re in the same field after all. I may not be as successful as you, but I can work hard, and learn!”

“I’m happy you’re a farmer like me, and hardworking” Igbin replied.

Igbin’s confidence and trust in Ijapa grew. Igbin started to depend on him more and more, to talk to him freely about his farm. Ijapa would go around the whole farm – where everything was sowed. He knew when and where corn and cassava were planted, and when they were harvested, how the leafy vegetables came to be where they were, when they, too, were planted, and when they would be ripe. He knew where to turn to get to the rows and rows of bananas and cassava, coco-yam, and pepper.

Every time Ijapa visited his father-in-law, he would make sure that he went right inside the farm, and would feast his eyes on everything around. He would take stock, awaiting harvest time, before going back home. Igbin would give Ijapa food to eat and to take home to make his visit worth his while.

Ijapa thanked his lucky stars about these developments – about this closeness that he had with his father-in-law because it was now helping him out of a very tight corner. He had had to stop going to the farm he was stealing from to put food on the table, when he had been almost caught. There had been traps set, and one day he nearly fell into one of them. He had hidden the truth from Mobọlade.

“There’s a temporary set-back at the farm – bad harvesting, you know.”

Mobọlade was not unduly worried, because the food that Ijapa had been bringing back every time that he visited her father at the farm helped them along. However, Ijapa knew that he could not carry on his pretence for long – that he would have to find a solution for the situation he was in.

“Granted Igbin asks me to help myself to whatever I want, but there’s a limit to how much I can take at a time. It’s not as if I can pay him a visit every day either! After all, am I not supposed to be eating from my own farm? We need food on a regular basis, and I can’t go to that other farm to steal anymore…”

Ijapa weighed up the matter in his mind, and decided that there was only one situation.

“It’s true that Igbin holds me in high esteem, and is kind to me, giving me food each time I visit him, but this is not enough. I need more from him – I need to lay my hands on whatever I want from his farm on a regular basis…” he convinced himself, and started to look for ways of doing so, without getting caught.

“I can’t very well go to Igbin and confess that from the beginning I’ve been lying to him and Mobọlade about being a farmer, and what’s more, been stealing from someone else’s farm. Yet we have to eat!” was his justification for his action from then on.
That was how Ijapa started to steal from his father-in-law, taking advantage of their closeness. Soon Igbin started to notice that things were missing from his farm. One day he would find his yams, cassava, coco-yam dug, another day his corn plucked, his crops picked, his pepper and his vegetables picked, his banana trees cut down. There was no doubt about it; someone was definitely stealing from the farm.

“I’ve noticed that things are missing from the farm – you know, crops, vegetables, and so on” Igbin confided in Ijapa.

“Missing?” Ijapa exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes, missing, and I don’t know what to do about it. I wonder who could be stealing all these crops, vegetables, etc.

Ijapa showed a lot of concern. He was very sympathetic.

“Who’s this thief who comes to steal from you at this farm? After all the energy you’ve put into your work, it’s only right that you should reap what you sow fully. It’s very bad. How could anyone do this to you?”

Little did Igbin know that the culprit was Ijapa himself. Igbin would not have believed that Ijapa, his son-in-law, could do such a thing – he who thought that his daughter was even lucky to have married Ijapa. If anyone had suggested it Igbin would have answered:

“He’s my son-in-law, for goodness sake. All he needs to do is to ask me for whatever he wants. It can’t be Ijapa. No way!”

Igbin loved Ijapa as if he were his own child, and had revealed a lot to him about his business. When the former continued to talk about the theft – about looking for a way of capturing the thief, Ijapa knew that his days were numbered as far as stealing at Igbin’s farm was concerned.

Igbin did not usually go to his farm early in the morning, and so Ijapa decided to go there at that time to steal, pretending to go out of the town.

“I’ll just have to move on to another farm. I can’t back down now…I can’t confess… I’d better go to the farm one more time. I’ll leave the house earlier than usual tomorrow morning, and take a lot more than usual, to last us for some time – at least for a few days. I’d be out of there well before morning.”

Suddenly Ijapa remembered how he had gone to another farm in a neighbouring town, when he was living at Teregun, with a dog, Aja, to steal yam, and how he had been caught because he had taken far more yams than he could carry.

“I mustn’t let the same thing happen this time” he promised himself, remembering the terrible ordeal he had gone through. “I’ll carry only what I can carry and leave the rest in that disuse barn at the rear of the farm, and then make two more trips…There’ll be time before people start moving about.”

The following day Ijapa left the house well before dawn and made for his father-in-law’s farm. He got hold of a cutlass and a big basket which he put on his head. He was obviously not going for a visit! There he took corn, vegetables, and other things. He dug yams and coco-yams, he cut down bananas and plantains, and plucked peppers. In his haste, because he wanted to steal as much as he could for the last time – he was reckless and careless, digging out unripe corn, yams that were not ready for plucking. He packed as many of the produce in the big basket, aiming to drop them at the disuse barn, before finally carrying the rest home in the same basket. He tried to lift the load on to his head, but could not because it was too heavy. He reduced the load, and tried again, moving towards the barn.

In the meantime, whilst Ijapa was struggling with the stolen goods, unknown to him, Igbin had taken some hunters to his farm the day before, and asked them to set traps at all the roads to the farm, the kind of traps that, if any animals fell into, would gradually lead to their death. One of the traps was very close to the disuse barn. Ijapa fell head-long into the trap, and the cord wound round his feet, and he was caught; he started to struggle to free himself using his head to remove the cord from his feet, to no avail. After struggling and struggling to free his feet from the cord, the cord wound firmly round him. He was tired, and he gave himself up for dead. But he did not die; he was just blinking incessantly where he was, doubled over.

That was how Ijapa was caught by Igbin. That same morning Igbin came to the farm to look at the traps that had been set, and see if the thief had been caught by chance. He was shocked to find his son-in-law, the husband of his favourite – the apple of his eye – caught in one of the traps, the cord wound firmly round his feet, struggling to lift this huge basket full of things from his own farm. Igbin was very angry by Ijapa’s deception, and thought that he had taken him for a fool.

“Here we go again!” Ijapa was thinking. This was exactly what he had experienced when he was caught at the farm where he had gone to steal with Aja. “I hope I’d be less severely dealt with this time. Igbin’s my father-in-law after all.”
Ijapa remembered how he had been dealt some blows and humiliated by the farm-owner (in the neighbouring town when he was living at Teregun), on the way to the Ọba’s palace. Children were throwing stones at him and calling him ‘Ole!’ (Thief!). Little did he know that the treatment he was going to receive now from his father-in-love would be much worse than at that time. In fact, his humiliation was going to be extreme.

“Is it Ijapa or isn’t it?” It was as if Ijapa’s father-in-law was dreaming right in the middle of his farm. “Ha-a! It’s you! You’re the thief who’s been stealing from my farm’s rewards! You who I so love – whom I’ve given my daughter to as wife – my favourite daughter. How could you behave in this way to me? All the days you’ve been visiting me l have showered you with everything.

“There’s nothing I’ve not given you from the farm – packed for you to take home. I let you into all my secrets – you who should come to my rescue if you see anything going wrong for me – you whom I thought I could trust with my things, digging out unripe corn, yams not ready for plucking, picking vegetables…So, you haven’t been satisfied until now that you’ve overdone things?

“Just you wait and see. I’ll show you that you’re not as clever as you think you’re. I’m going to punish you in a way that a thief deserves. I’m not going to kill you because of my daughter. I won’t throw you in jail either, but I’ll disgrace you publicly, confounded master thief.
Igbin grabbed Ijapa roughly by the hand; Ijapa screamed, and pleaded for mercy.

“Don’t punish me. Please I beg you…”

“There’re not two ways about it. I have to teach you a lesson. I’ll tie you down near this same farm where you’ve tried to steal from – by the roadside where every being on earth who passes by will see you. That’s where I’ll put you. You think you can make a fool of me, laugh behind my back. Wait until you’re laughed at publicly, and you’ll see!”

Then Igbin uprooted a tree, and dragged Ijapa to a crossroad on the way to the market where he knew that all the market people would be passing by every day, so that passers-by would laugh at him when they heard what he had done. Igbin planted the tree there. It was a market day on that day – the day when the market would be in full swing with all the stalls open. All the people living around the area were bound to go to the market on that day.

News had already spread about the theft by the time the market people passed by in the morning, but the passers-by did not know the penalty until they passed by. They found Ijapa tied to the tree, with ropes wound tightly round his feet at this crossroad, and all the things he had stolen from the farm at his feet. He was blinking incessantly, in pain from the ropes which prevented blood from flowing from the top of his body to his feet. In fact, his feet had already started to swell.

“What’s going on here with Ijapa?” some passers-by were asking.

Igbin who was standing next to Ijapa, started telling the passers-by how Ijapa happened to be in the trouble in which he was in.

“You see this confounded thief! I’ve been wondering for some time who could be stealing from my farm, and who did I catch this morning…?

He’s stolen my crops, my vegetables… look at all these things” Igbin broke off pointing to the produce at Ijapa’s feet.

“Imagine that!”

All the people reacted in different ways; they were shocked, and irate; they had nothing good to say to or about Ijapa. They made insulting remarks about him, said all kinds of nasty things to him, called him names, all the time praising Igbin for catching him and tying him to a tree – for a job well done.

“You’ve done well to have caught a sly thief like that!” they started to say.

“Good gracious, Ijapa! You’re a shameless creature!”

“Serves you right!”

“Fancy stealing from someone who’s given you his child”

“How disgraceful!”

Some of them used their index finger to touch his nose (a way of showing one’s disdain for another), pushing him slightly and almost hitting him. Some people put their hands together to boo him, and spat at him. Children formed a circle around him, shooing him with their hands, singing about him as follows:

Ijapa ole, Ijapa is a thief,
Ole. A thief.
Awa-‘ṣu-oniṣu, Who dug somebody else’s yams
Ole. A thief.
O ka’la ana rẹ He plucked his in-law’s okra
Ole. A thief.
Ijapa ole, Ijapa is a thief,
Ole. A thief.
O ka’la onila, He plucked someone else’s okra,
Ole. A thief.
O fẹ’fo ana rẹ He picked his in-law’s ẹfo
Ole. A thief.
O y’agbado Igbin, He plucked Igbin’s corn/maize,
Ole. A thief
Ijapa ole o Ijapa is a real thief
Ole A thief

This was how it came to pass that all the market people ridiculed Ijapa. Ijapa kept silent as they did so. He was deeply ashamed.

“This is much worse than what those children did to me the other time” he was thinking, although they had called him ‘Ole’ (Thief) and thrown stones at him. Then he started to beg Igbin to release him, afraid of further disgrace. But Igbin refused to be placated even though he had achieved what he had hoped for. Ijapa’s disgrace was excessive.

Igbin went back home, leaving Ijapa tied to the tree at the crossroad till evening.

“Please untie me! You’ve made people laugh at me enough. Why don’t you kill me? That’d be better than the public disgrace I’ve experienced today.”

It was indeed true. The public disgrace Ijapa had experienced before was nothing compared with this. But Igbin refused bluntly.

“Igbin, listen to me; this is getting too much.” Ijapa tried to appeal to Igbin yet again. “Please untie me. It’s true that I’ve done wrong, and I deserve all the abusive words thrown at me, and other treatments metered out to me by the market people – not to talk of those children! But won’t it look bad if these same people find me like this on their way back from the market? So, please untie me, for God’s sake.”

But Igbin refused to untie Ijapa; he wanted the market people to treat Ijapa the same way that they did on their way to the market. Ijapa was left there, and it was getting dark. All the people who went to the market were leaving for home – sellers, as well as buyers, and those who were just walking around. They were all coming back. Igbin too had come back to see how Ijapa would be publicly humiliated further. After that he would untie him. Also, those who did not see him on their way to the market would now have the opportunity of seeing him on their way back. Then Ijapa’s disgrace and humiliation would be extreme!

That was how it happened that when the people were coming back from the market in the evening that day, they found Ijapa still tied down to the tree on their way. They saw him blinking incessantly as before, and he seemed to have hardly any life left in him. His feet were excessively swollen from being tightly bound with ropes. The people were deeply shocked by this turn of event. They felt really sorry for Ijapa. Instead of saying nasty things to him, calling him names, cursing him as they did in the morning, they were deeply concerned for him. They changed their tune; they started to address Igbin instead, using abusive language, almost condoling Ijapa’s behaviour.

“What has he actually done? So, he’s stolen some yams and so on, from this father-in-law. Big deal! Hasn’t one heard of anything like that before? It can’t be more than what anyone else has stolen before.”

“Isn’t it some peppers, yams, cassava, coco-yam, bananas and plantains that Ijapa has stolen from the farm, or has he done anything more serious than stealing?”

“What exactly does Igbin have in mind leaving Ijapa tied with ropes to this tree up till now – all day long in the hot sun? Does he want to kill him?”

“It’s only someone without mercy who can behave like this.”

“What would Igbin have done if it wasn’t Ijapa he found at his farm.”

“Just as well he’s your son-in-law. What would happen if he wasn’t your son-in-law? Do you want to kill him? This is serious. You’re too harsh.”

“You’re wicked. You’re evil – more evil than Ijapa who has stolen from you! You’ve gone too far. For goodness sake, is your daughter not going to eat out of what he’s stolen? Couldn’t you have let it go since morning? In spite of how blazingly hot it’s been today you’ve tied down a being – a full-blooded one like yourself under it. You’ve carried things to extreme, and you’ve lost face. No one has any regard for you anymore. You’re a disgrace! You have no pity, no forgiving spirit. You’re a murderer!”

This was how all the market people who had been nasty to Ijapa, using harsh, cruel words, on their way to the market ended up directing their verbal abusive words at Igbin on their way back.

Igbin was deeply embarrassed and ashamed when all of them lashed at him. He untied Ijapa. He knew that he had lost face – that people were likely to remember and talk about what he had done to Ijapa much more than what Ijapa had done in the first place. If only he had not got excessively angry with Ijapa, and the punishment he gave him had been in moderation, the world would not have condemned him.

As Igbin was thinking this, he heard Ijapa laughing at him.

“See what’s happened to you now? Serves you right Igbin. If you’d untied me since I’ve been begging you, you’d have maintained your dignity. Now you’ve lost face because of your carrying things too far!”

Igbin ignored Ijapa. He just left the scene quietly, and went inside the house. He had certainly learnt a lesson. One should do things in moderation. No matter how badly someone has wronged us, if the person apologizes or if we punish the person a little, we should have a forgiving spirit, and not allow our being in the right to override our human feelings.