The Clever Monkey of Zanzibar

On the island of Zanzibar, where the warm blue sea meets the shore, there grew an enormous fig tree.

Its roots dug deep into the sandy earth. Its branches stretched wide — some over the land, and some far out over the sparkling water.

High in the topmost branches lived a little monkey named Keema. Every morning he climbed to the very top of the tree and ate the sweetest, ripest figs he could find.

"What a wonderful life," Keema said to himself, juice dripping down his chin. "Warm sun, cool breeze, and all the figs I can eat."

He tossed a fig pit into the sea below and watched it splash.

He did not notice the dark shadow gliding through the water beneath him.

"Hello up there!" called a deep voice from the water.

Keema looked down and saw a large gray shark swimming in circles beneath the tree. The shark grinned up at him, showing rows and rows of sharp white teeth.

"My name is Papa," said the shark. "Those figs look delicious. I'm so tired of eating only salty sea things. Would you throw one down?"

Keema laughed. "Of course!"

He tossed down a ripe fig, and Papa caught it in his wide mouth.

"Mmmmm!" said Papa, closing his eyes. "That is the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted!"

From that day on, the monkey and the shark met every morning. Keema tossed down figs, and Papa told stories about the wonders under the sea — glowing fish, coral castles, and the kingdom of the great Sea Sultan.

They became the best of friends. Or so Keema thought.

One morning, Papa swam up with an especially big smile.

"Keema, my dear friend," he said. "You have been so generous to me. I want to repay your kindness. Come visit my home beneath the sea! I will show you the coral castles and the palace of the Sea Sultan. You will be treated like a king!"

Keema's eyes went wide. He had always dreamed of seeing the underwater world.

"But I can't swim!" he said. "I'll drown!"

"Nonsense!" said Papa. "Just climb onto my back. I'll carry you across the water. Not a single drop will touch you. I promise."

Keema thought about it. Papa was his friend, wasn't he? Friends could be trusted.

So the little monkey climbed down from his fig tree and hopped onto the shark's broad gray back.

"Hold on tight!" said Papa, and off they went, gliding across the wide blue sea.

They swam far, far from shore. The fig tree became a tiny green dot behind them. The water was deep and dark below.

Then Papa began to sink — just a little.

"What are you doing?" Keema cried, gripping the shark's fin.

Papa sighed. "I have something to tell you, my friend. The Sea Sultan is very, very sick. His doctors say the only cure is... a monkey's heart."

Keema's own heart nearly stopped.

"You're going to — "

"I'm sorry," said Papa, not sounding very sorry at all. "I need to bring you to the Sultan."

Keema looked around. Nothing but water in every direction. He couldn't swim. He couldn't fly. He was sitting on the back of the very creature who had betrayed him.

But Keema was a very clever monkey.

And clever monkeys don't panic. They think.

Keema took a deep breath and put on his most casual voice.

"Oh, is THAT all you need?" he said. "My heart? Well, why didn't you say so before we left?"

Papa blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you know?" said Keema, sounding surprised. "We monkeys don't carry our hearts around with us all the time. That would be silly! We leave them safe in our trees. My heart is hanging on a branch of the fig tree right now."

Papa stared at him. "Really?"

"Of course!" said Keema. "If you had told me earlier, I would have brought it. But you'll have to take me back so I can get it."

Papa thought about this. He was strong and powerful, but he was not very clever. The monkey's explanation made no sense — but Papa didn't know that.

"Fine," growled the shark, turning around. "But hurry!"

Papa swam back toward shore as fast as his fins could carry him. The fig tree grew bigger and bigger until they were right beneath it.

The moment they reached the shallows, Keema leaped off the shark's back.

One jump to a low branch. Another to a higher one. And another and another, until he was sitting safely at the very top of his tree, high above the water.

"Ha!" Keema shouted, his tail curling with delight.

Papa circled below, confused. "Well? Where is your heart? Throw it down!"

Keema burst out laughing.

"Oh, Papa," said Keema, shaking his head. "My heart is right here in my chest, exactly where it has always been. Monkeys don't leave their hearts in trees!"

Papa's eyes went wide. "You — you tricked me!"

"You tricked me first," said Keema. "You pretended to be my friend just so you could hand me over to your Sultan. That's not friendship. That's a trap."

Papa thrashed his tail angrily. "Come down here!"

"Not a chance," said Keema. "Do you know the story of the washerman's donkey? A donkey was tricked into visiting a lion. The lion tried to eat her. She escaped — but then she went BACK because the lion promised to be nice. And the lion ate her."

Keema plucked a fig and bit into it.

"Do you know what they said about that donkey? They said she had no heart and no ears. Because only a fool goes back to someone who tried to hurt them."

He looked down at the shark.

"I am no washerman's donkey, Papa."

Papa the shark sank slowly beneath the waves without another word. He never came back to the fig tree again.

Keema sat in his branches, eating figs in the warm sunshine, listening to the waves and the seabirds.

He was a little sad. He had liked having a friend. But he knew something important now — a true friend would never ask you to give up your heart.

And from that day on, the people of Zanzibar told this story to their children. They gathered around the fire after supper, and an elder would call out: "Hadithi, hadithi!" And the children would answer: "Let the story come!"

And the story always ended the same way:

Be kind to everyone. But be clever, too. Share your figs, but never give away your heart.

Because the cleverest creature is not always the biggest or the strongest — sometimes it's the little monkey at the top of the tree.