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A traditional story from Buganda teaches us that powerful rulers should not ask the impossible from their subjects. The story is about a famous blacksmith called Walukaga. |
People from all over Buganda came to Walukaga, the famous Buganda blacksmith, to buy the metalware he made. Hunters brought meat and skins in exchange for his excellent spears and arrowheads. Not only were these as sharp as a razor, but they were perfectly balanced. The hunters knew that when the spears were thrown or the arrows shot from their bows, they would fly straight and true, certain to bring down their prey.
Farmers came to exchange bags of grain for Walukaga's strong hoes and ploughshares. The farmers had great faith in the tools, knowing they had been forged with skill and care and made with the strongest metals, ensuring they would not easily wear out but be good for preparing fields and cultivating crops for many seasons.
Women brought him their best beer, their finest bread and their most carefully made clothes. These they traded for the sharp and long-wearing knives he made, the pots and cauldrons that would never tip over or crack from the heat of the fire. Oh yes, Walukaga was by far the best blacksmith in all the kingdom of Buganda.
This fact, of course, had not escaped the attention of the Kabaka. He called on the talented blacksmith frequently to provide him with the items of metal that were needed for the Royal household. The Kabaka also had at least one hundred wives, and they too had Walukaga provide them with the metal utensils for cooking and general palace housekeeping. The Kabaka gave his favored wives gifts of shiny metal rings and bangles, crafted with intricate patterns by the inventive blacksmith. Walukaga enjoyed working for the Kabaka, for his fine craftsmanship was always rewarded generously. Walukaga grew wealthy and lived well.
Walukaga's troubles really began when he was called one day to see the Kabaka on a very urgent and important matter. The blacksmith hurried to the Royal Courtyard and bowed low when he was brought before the King.
"Blacksmith," the Kabaka boomed in his important, Royal voice, "I have a problem that only you can solve."
Walukaga waited silently. He hoped the problem was not too great and beyond his capabilities. The consequences of failing the Kabaka were too dreadful even to think about. The Kabaka clapped his hands. Into the throne room hobbled a young man with one leg missing just below the knee. He moved along by holding onto a long stick with both hands, but his movements were clumsy and his progress slow.
"This is my eldest son, Jamala," said the Kabaka looking sadly at the crippled young man. "He was trampled by an elephant and the doctors had to remove his leg. You are the best blacksmith in Buganda. You must make him another leg".
Walukaga was stunned. He had never heard of such a thing, never even thought about making a man's leg!
"B-but, great Kabaka ...," he stammered, greatly alarmed at the enormity of the task the King had given him.
"Silence!" roared the Kabaka. "Go now and do as I say."
The Kabaka looked so fierce, the blacksmith knew that any argument could cost him his head. He ran home as fast he could and contemplated the problem the king had bestowed upon him.
For hours, Walukaga stared at his own leg, feeling its shape. Eventually he began to think there just might be something he could do. Calling on the young man, Jamala, the blacksmith made careful measurements of his good leg then hurried home to begin work. After a week of forging and casting and shaping, the leg was ready to be tried on.
Jamala was delighted when the metal leg was fitted onto his stump and tied securely in place with thin strips of antelope hide. Jamala had never been happier as he clumped up and down the room without the aid of his stick.
"Thank you, Walukaga, thank you", he cried. Limping as fast as he could go, he went to show his father, the Kabaka.
A little time later, Walukaga was summoned into the Kabaka's presence. "This is a very good thing you have done, blacksmith," congratulated the King. "To show my gratitude, you shall have twenty of my finest cows which you may choose yourself from the Royal herd.".
That very day, Walukaga proudly drove home twenty fine, fat cows.
It was about two weeks later that the king once again sent for Walukaga. This time, he wanted the blacksmith to make a new arm for one of his wives who had been attacked by a crocodile while washing the Royal clothes down at the riverside. The enormous reptile had grabbed her arm and tried to drag her into the river, but luckily she was saved by some of the other wives who were nearby at the time. Sadly, her arm had been bitten off at the elbow.
Walukaga knew this was a far greater task than the leg, but knowing better than to argue he went home to study the problem. A week or so later he was back to strap a metal arm onto what was left of the old one. Although it was nowhere as good as her real arm, the woman wept with happiness and gratitude for the help it gave her. The king, of course, was very pleased. Again he rewarded the clever blacksmith with a further twenty cows.
Not long after this episode, Walukaga was again brought before the Kabaka. Also present in the great throne room were the members of the Council, the Lukiko. The Kabaka sat on his elaborate throne and smiled down at the blacksmith. "I have another job for you, blacksmith," he said, pointing to a great heap of metal stacked against the wall. "Over there!"
A heap of old spears and arrowheads, pots, hoes, trinkets, worn down ploughshares, and all manner of things were piled high. Mightily puzzled, the blacksmith said nothing, knowing the Kabaka would get to the point in his own time.
"You have done well, making arms and legs out of metal," said the Kabaka, "and we are very impressed with your skills." He regarded Walukaga for a long moment and then continued. "We have come to the conclusion that if it is possible for you to make parts of a body, there should be no reason why you should not be able to make a whole person."
Walukaga gasped. He stared at the king, scarcely able to believe the words he was hearing. The King went on:" I am not talking about a statue. I want you to make a living man. One who breathes and talks and eats and fights. One who has blood running in his veins." He pointed to the pile of scrap metal. "There is all the material you will need."
The poor blacksmith stared at the Kabaka in disbelief. "Go now," the King commanded. "Have my metal man ready for me in no less than twenty sunrises from today."
The blacksmith hurried home from the Royal house, a train of the King's servants behind him carrying the metal. Walukaga knew the mission the Kabaka had given him was impossible. Making an artificial leg or arm was one thing, but making an entire human being was something else entirely. He stared at the pile of metal objects for hour after hour.
Now, Walukaga was not only good with his hands, he was also a very deep thinker. Even though the task the king had given him seemed hopeless, he knew there must be a way for him to satisfy the king and save his reputation ... not to mention his neck! All through the night, the blacksmith wrestled with his problem. It was early in the morning, before the village rooster had announced the arrival of a new day, that Walukaga found the solution to his dilemma. Going once more to the Royal house, he begged for a meeting with the Kabaka. He was not kept waiting long, for the king was anxious to have news of the blacksmith's progress.
"Well, blacksmith, demanded Kabaka from his throne. "What news do you have for me?"
"Mighty Kabaka," replied Walukaga humbly. "I have come to ask you for just a few more things I need to complete your metal man."
"Tell me what they are, and you shall have them," said the Kabaka confidently. In his opinion, nothing was beyond his great power.
"I need one hundred loads of the ash of human hair and one hundred calabashes of human tears. Once I have these, your majesty, I will be ready to do all you command."
The Kabaka called out to the councilors of the Lukiko: "Tell all the people in the kingdom to shave off their hair, burn it and bring the ash to me. Also command them to weep as much as they can and bring their tears to me in a calabash."
The councillors ran off in all directions to spread the word of the Kabaka. Throughout the great kingdom of Buganda, the people dutifully shaved their heads, burnt the hair and collected the ash. They did their best to weep and cry, many even holding their faces over the smoke of the cooking fires to make the tears flow. Even though they collected a great many, there was not even enough to fill one calabash, let alone a hundred. And even though every man, woman and child shaved their heads completely bald, there was not enough ash to make up one load.
A week later the councillors reported that the mission the Kabaka had given them could not be accomplished. The King was greatly saddened by the news and sent for the blacksmith. With terror in his heart and shaking legs, Walukaga reported to the Royal house and stood before the King. But the Kabaka now understood what Walukaga had been trying to tell him, and he said with a smile:
"Blacksmith, you have asked something impossible of me, just as I demanded something impossible of you. You are a wise and brave man. I have decided that you are fit to marry my most beautiful daughter and join the Lukiko as a councillor."
Walukaga was overjoyed. The very next week he married into the Royal family and was appointed to the Lukiko where he served with wisdom and great diligence for the rest of his years.
The moral of the story: Do not ask too much from others, lest they ask too much of you.
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