This Goan folk tale is fictional and meant to be humorous. Any resemblance to real people and real events is purely coincidental and unintentional. Although the story was inspired from events in the Goan Canadian milieu, parallels should not be construed. Reader discretion is advised.
There was once a meeting of wise and hardworking tribal men where it was realized that the traditions of the tribe were in grave and imminent danger. So they talked about having a tribal fest where the magical egg of their culture and identity was going to be unveiled. This egg would then be replicated over all over the world where the tribe dwelt. Since time was of the essence, weighty matters had to be disposed off rather unseemingly before the fest could begin. The following questions came up before the wise men. Could the whole tribe participate in the fest? No, was the answer. Only a few serious braves could. Then how to make sure the whole tribe would not join in? Much gold was to be given before they could enter the fest, it was suggested. Shall we encourage wise men from the tribe who were scattered in other lands to come? Only those who might attest to the golden egg, it was agreed. Shall we send out big smoke signals? One of them asked. You buy the wood and the matches, you stoke the fire and we will wield the blanket he was told. Now among these wise men were two of the brassiest mould. Actually one of them was a squaw who would have liked to be chief. She wrote a letter to the tribe in her sister's name about their vision and creativity and many more talents. The tribe was told that that such people appeared only once in 20 years. Since strictly males were made chiefs, the best she could try to be was chief-maker. They saw a chance in this tribal fest to displace the established chief who was the head of the whole tribe and not just of the wise men. This chief was the strongest and the wisest of them all but it was time for him to pass on the feathered head-dress. Although there were many brave men in line to wear it, none had a squaw like our wise man. So the fest was held amidst much fanfare. The chieftain came but when he stood up to speak, the man and his squaw left the tent. The chief was insulted, but it didn't matter to the wise men, who explained that the tent needed to be folded and somebody had to do it. Then the wise men introduced those who came from afar. They were given the choicest bison and the headiest wine so that they could sing the praises of the top two hosts. In return they brought many gifts. Some of them were collected and meant for those braves who were injured and sick in the old country but the donors thought "we can always ask the tribe for more". So they talked about the golden egg. The few who came asked many questions of those who said there was such an egg. What is this egg made of? Is it not like any other egg? Can the egg multiply in other lands? How do we stop it from breaking? But those who were supposed to give the answers flipped back the questions to those who asked them. Since there were none who could answer the questions, the fest moved to other things. But not before a huddle to promise that news of the golden egg should be spread. So everyone went off to the hear the tribal choir, join in the peace dance, visit the trading posts, drink the white man's whisky and they finally dispersed. Now one wise man who always told the truth, was unhappy about the fest. He had traveled through the mountains, ridden through the valleys but felt he had tired himself for nothing. There were also some thoughtful braves who were wondering about the golden egg that was promised but not received. They decided to keep their tongues tied. They wanted the wise men to talk about the egg and the fest first. Since there was a dead silence from the wise men, one brave who usually kept the tribal records gave an account of the proceedings. Immediately some wise men from afar sent strong opposing smoke signals about the golden egg. How big it was, how fine it was, how their hosts were ever-smiling and how the new chief-to-be would always find a welcome mat in their tepees. They shouted down the truthful man from afar and too the scribe and the brave who had joined in. They accused them of many things like not paying the required gold and of drinking all the tribe's moonshine. So finally an impartial brave who wanted peace said "never mind who talks bad things about the fest, let us talk about the golden egg so that we can multiply it for the good of the tribe. That is the most important thing". A brave on one side echoed the call. After all it was the egg and not the fest that was important. The wise men gathered and in unison, attacked the messengers whom they called the nay sayers. Shut up for the good of the tribe, screamed one. Have your own fest and find your own egg said the second, showing his little finger. This is pythonesque murmured another. Didn't you read the smoke signals? Idiotically asked a fourth. You didn't come for the fest so you shouldn't ask about the egg, shouted yet another. Give us more gold and we shall sell you the facts about the egg yelled the main man. The fest is long over but the tribe still awaits the golden egg. -- Roland Francis Toronto +1 (416) 453.3371
