The secret of secrets

Once there lived a king who had the ears of a donkey. They were long and furry and stood up straight from the side of his head. No one except the royal barber knew about it. The king deftly hid it under a turban that was never removed. Even the queen wasn’t aware of his secret (he kept his turban on at ALL times). The barber was warned that he would pay with his head if he so much as breathed the secret to anyone.

The knowledge of the king’s donkey ears weighed the barber down like an anchor. He had to tell someone but knew the consequences would be dire if he did. What to do! He was on the verge of losing his mind. One day he had a bright idea. He planted the sapling of a mahogany tree in a remote corner of his compound, watered it and screamed to his heart’s content.

“Hear this! Hear this! The king has donkey ears, the king has donkey ears .. hahaha .. hohoho.”

He experienced immense relief after this. He breathed easy once again. The king’s secret no longer bothered him and he lived happily for many years. One day, the wedding of the princess was announced. The entire country celebrated the build-up to it and there was much feasting and rejoicing. Soldiers came around once looking for suitable wood to make drums. They spotted the fully grown mahogany tree in the barber’s compound, chopped it down and delivered it to the royal drum makers.

As the wedding garlands were being exchanged, and the drum beats reached a crescendo, the voice of the barber rang out loud and clear,

“Hear this! Hear this! The king has donkey ears, the king has donkey ears .. hahaha .. hohoho.”

The king was a man of his word. Hence, this story sadly ends with a headless barber.

I’m in a similar situation as the barber. My head is about to burst with secrets. I have been told far too many in the last two weeks. They’re weighing me down, the knowledge of terrible insinuations being made about some people, the diseases that some are battling with, impending divorces, extra-marital and pre-marital affairs … However, I’m not allowed to tell anyone. I’ve been sworn to secrecy, my honour is at stake. And the more honourable I am, more sordid the secrets I receive.

Please don’t tell me anything more. I am full up. And if you find it hard to keep them, go plant a tree and confide in it. Kings are not allowed to behead you these days.