The Monkey and the Midnight Fruit

Deep in the heart of the lush Isale jungle, where mist curled between tall trees and the emerald river whispered through the wild, there stood a very unusual tree. This tree, known by the villagers as Igbako – the Tree of Truth, was no ordinary tree.

Its bark shimmered gently under the moonlight, and its leaves rustled softly as if telling secrets to the wind. But what truly made Igbako special was its fruit. The tree only bore fruit at midnight, and only for those who were brave enough to speak the truth in the darkness.

The elders of the nearby village often warned:

“Tell one lie, and the fruit will disappear forever.”

Most villagers avoided the tree altogether. Why? Because truth can hurt. Truth can expose mistakes, shame, and guilt. And in a world where hiding our faults is easier than admitting them, very few dared to face Igbako.

But one night, everything changed.

Enter Tantu – The Clever Monkey

Tantu was no ordinary monkey. He was known throughout the forest as a prankster and a trickster. He could copy bird calls perfectly, confuse crocodiles with his fast talk, and even once convinced a leopard that he was a magical priest. Tantu had never told the truth in his life.

But then came the drought.

Rain stopped falling. Trees stopped blooming. The river slowed to a trickle. Even the tallest giraffe bent low, searching for food. Tantu’s clever tricks could no longer feed him. He grew weak. Hungry. Desperate.

And so, one moonlit night, he crept toward the glowing Igbako Tree.

The Test of Truth

As Tantu stood before the shimmering bark, a deep voice echoed from the branches:

“Speak your truth, Tantu. Only your truth.”

Tantu froze. The forest was silent. No animals moved. Even the wind held its breath.

With trembling hands and a soft voice, he began to speak.

“I have stolen food from friends,” he said.

“I have lied to those who trusted me. I made fun of animals who helped me. Once, I even blamed the wind for the mangoes I stole myself.”

He waited. Nothing happened.

Then—a single golden fruit slowly bloomed on a low branch. It glowed warmly, invitingly.

Tantu stepped forward, eyes wide. But just before picking it, he hesitated.

“I also once pretended to be a dying bird just so others would give me attention,” he added, ashamed.

The fruit glowed even brighter.

This time, he gently picked it. As he took the first bite, sweetness filled his mouth, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It was the taste of honesty, healing, and hope.

A New Beginning

From that night forward, Tantu changed. He no longer played tricks or lied. He became known as the forest’s storyteller—but instead of fooling others, he told stories of truth, kindness, and self-discovery.

Animals gathered under the moon to hear his tales—not to be entertained by jokes, but to learn from his journey.

And every full moon, the Igbako Tree bloomed a new golden fruit for him, rewarding his truth once more.

🌿 Moral of the Story

Even when truth is hard to admit, it brings the sweetest rewards. This story teaches us that being honest, especially when it's difficult, builds character, trust, and self-respect. Lies may give comfort for a moment, but truth creates a lifetime of peace. When we own our mistakes, we not only heal ourselves but also inspire others. Speaking the truth—no matter how small—can light up the darkest paths and turn fear into strength. Truth is a gift, and those who dare to share it are truly wise.

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