Shumba, Soko, and the Faulty Helicopter

By Baba Jukwa | ZimEye | In an ancient town cradled between mist-covered mountains and dense jungles, the excitement was palpable. The townsfolk were abuzz with anticipation, preparing for a grand party to be held on a Sunday afternoon. The star guest was expected to make a memorable entrance—arriving in a shiny, yet undeniably faulty, helicopter.

The guest in question was Soko, a clever monkey known far and wide for his tricks and wit. Just the day before, Soko had boasted he would make a dramatic appearance at the party aboard the creaky old helicopter. But there was one animal who wasn’t amused: Shumba, the lion.

Shumba, the self-proclaimed king of the jungle, was tired of Soko’s endless antics. Time and again, the little monkey had made him look foolish with his tricks. When he heard of Soko’s plan to arrive in the helicopter, Shumba’s amber eyes narrowed with a devious idea. He knew the helicopter was unreliable; its blades wobbled, its engine sputtered, and its controls were fickle. Deciding to take matters into his own paws, Shumba sneaked out late at night and tampered with the chopper just enough to make it a death trap. “This will be the end of Soko,” he chuckled darkly to himself.

However, Soko was no fool. With his sharp eyes and clever mind, he soon caught wind of Shumba’s wicked plan. Smiling to himself, he decided to turn the situation to his advantage. As the sun climbed high on Sunday afternoon, the helicopter sat at the edge of the ancient town, looking as rickety as ever. Soko arrived early, but instead of heading to the helicopter, he hid in the treetops, watching Shumba from a safe distance.

The lion, puffed up with pride and barely concealing his glee, waited near the helicopter, eager to see his plan unfold. The party bustled with energy, guests murmuring with excitement, all wondering when Soko would arrive. But the minutes ticked by, and still, there was no sign of the monkey. Shumba’s impatience grew; his tail lashed back and forth, his ears twitched, and his brows furrowed.

“Where is that little pest?” Shumba grumbled under his breath. He scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Soko’s telltale tail. But Soko was nowhere to be seen. At last, frustration got the better of him. Deciding he could wait no longer, Shumba muttered, “Maybe the coward ran off after all.”

Just then, a faint giggle echoed from behind a nearby tree. Shumba’s ears perked up, and he caught a glimpse of something furry darting behind a bush. “Aha! That must be him!” Shumba growled. Unable to resist the chance to show up Soko, he jumped into the cockpit of the helicopter.

The lion roared with confidence as he fumbled with the controls. The helicopter’s engine coughed and sputtered, blades creaking as they began to spin. The townsfolk turned their heads, watching in awe and confusion.

Up, up went the helicopter, wobbling dangerously as it lifted off the ground. For a moment, Shumba felt triumphant, imagining Soko quaking in his hiding place. But just as he began to smirk, the helicopter jerked violently to one side, then the other, its blades spinning wildly. Soko, from his treetop vantage point, couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He knew exactly what would happen next.

Shumba’s eyes widened as the helicopter spun out of control, his paws frantically pulling at the levers, but it was too late. The helicopter veered to the left, then pitched forward and came crashing down into a pile of hay with a mighty thud. The crowd gasped, then erupted into laughter as Shumba, flustered and covered in straw, emerged unharmed but thoroughly embarrassed.

With perfect timing, Soko leapt down from his hiding spot and strolled toward the crowd, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, Shumba, my dear friend,” he called out mockingly, “I knew you’d try something like this. That’s why I decided to take the scenic route—on foot!”

The crowd burst into cheers for Soko, applauding his cleverness. Shumba, with his mane full of hay and his dignity in pieces, slunk away, seething with anger and humiliation.

And so, the party continued, with Soko dancing and laughing as the new star of the show, while Shumba, now plotting his next move, realized that once again, he had been thoroughly outsmarted by the quick-witted monkey.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient town, the laughter of the townsfolk echoed through the air—a testament to the fact that brains often triumph over brawn, especially when a faulty helicopter is involved.

The sun had set, leaving a deep indigo sky above the ancient town as Shumba trudged away from the scene of his humiliation. The once-roaring lion, now quiet and somber, climbed into his old, beaten-up jeep, parked just beyond the party grounds. His paws gripped the steering wheel tightly, his usually proud mane now messy with bits of straw still clinging to it. His face was pale, and his mind raced with anger and frustration.

The Lion’s Dilemma.

The drive back to the capital city was a long one, winding through thick jungle paths and across narrow bridges that creaked under the weight of his vehicle. As he drove, the events of the day replayed over and over in his mind like a bad dream. Soko’s mocking grin, the townsfolk’s laughter, the helicopter spiraling out of control—all of it gnawed at him.

“That insolent monkey!” Shumba muttered to himself, his claws tapping impatiently against the steering wheel. “How could I let him make a fool of me again?”

Shumba’s pride had been bruised before, but never like this. It wasn’t just a matter of embarrassment; it was a matter of power. He had ruled the jungle with an iron paw for years, and everyone respected—or feared—him. But Soko, with his quick wits and playful spirit, had always been a thorn in his side. Worse still, he had made a promise to the entire jungle just days before, that Soko would need to “drink poison” before he, Shumba, would ever run the jungle like a true lion again. Now, he felt like a fool for making such a bold claim.

The jeep rattled along the rugged path, and Shumba’s mind churned with regret. How had he let it come to this? How had a mere monkey managed to outwit him at every turn? As the headlights pierced through the darkened jungle, the lion’s thoughts turned inward, and his regret deepened.

“I should have known better than to trust that rusty old helicopter,” he grumbled. “And that promise… why did I say such a thing? Now everyone knows I can’t keep my word.”

Shumba gritted his teeth, anger boiling in his chest. He needed a new plan, a perfect plan, to rid himself of Soko once and for all. Something more cunning, more foolproof than a faulty helicopter. But what? Every idea that flitted through his mind seemed to crumble like dry leaves. He had tried traps before; he had tried force; he had even tried deception. None of it had worked.

He glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. His own eyes stared back at him, hollow and tired. “I can’t let him win,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the growl of the engine. “I can’t let that monkey make a mockery of me.”

As he drove deeper into the jungle, the trees closed in around him, their branches casting long, eerie shadows across the path. His headlights illuminated the occasional startled bird or deer, but otherwise, the road was deserted, and the air was thick with the sounds of the night.

Shumba’s mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. He had always prided himself on being the strongest, the most fearsome creature in the jungle. But Soko had shown that strength wasn’t always enough. If he was going to win this battle, he would have to be smarter than ever before. He needed to get inside Soko’s head, understand how he thought, and find a way to outsmart him once and for all.

“But how?” he muttered to himself. “How do you trap a monkey who seems to know every move you’re going to make before you make it?”

For a moment, a spark of an idea flickered in his mind, but it faded as quickly as it came. Shumba growled in frustration, slamming his paw against the dashboard. “Think, Shumba, think! There must be a way…”

He knew he couldn’t rush this. The next plan had to be flawless. No more half-baked schemes. No more taking Soko lightly. This time, he would prepare, he would strategize, he would make sure there were no loose ends.

He considered his options. Maybe he could lure Soko with a promise of a treasure or some grand adventure. Soko loved shiny things and new experiences. Or perhaps he could play on Soko’s curiosity, set a trap that seemed harmless, even fun, until it was too late. Yes, that had potential. But he needed more details, more precision.

As the jeep bumped over a small hill, the lights of the capital city appeared in the distance, twinkling like stars against the dark horizon. Shumba felt a cold determination settle over him. He knew he couldn’t afford to fail again. The jungle was watching, waiting for his next move. If he didn’t act soon, his reputation would be in ruins.

When he finally arrived at his lair, a grand cave just outside the capital, he parked the jeep and sat there for a moment in silence. The wind howled softly outside, and the stars above seemed to mock him with their distant, cold light. But he didn’t care. He was done feeling humiliated. Done feeling outsmarted.

Shumba stepped out of the jeep, his face set in a grim expression. He knew what he needed to do. He would consult with the old, wise owl who lived deep in the darkest part of the jungle, the one who knew the secrets of every creature and the weaknesses of every heart. If anyone could help him devise a plan to rid himself of Soko, it would be the owl.

With a determined growl, Shumba walked into his cave, plotting his next move. Soko might have won this round, but Shumba was ready for the next—and this time, he vowed, there would be no mistakes. The jungle would soon see who the true king was, even if it meant making Soko drink poison, one way or another.- ZimEye