A Zulu Tale (that might've been the precursor to Aesop's Tortoise and the Hare).
The Forgotten Creator, Unkulunkulu, whose name is the song of animals and the dance of water over stones, came from the black void beneath the world and was first to touch the roots of the Great Marsh, Uthlanga, from where all things come. The Great Marsh had been sleeping until Unkulunkulu pushed out from beneath, and emerged through the reeds with the sun and moon in each hand, and with the stars beaded from the pores of his forehead.
Having fixed the sky in place, Unkulunkulu turned to the reeds in the Marsh and plucked from them the first man and woman. Delighted with his creation, he returned to the reeds and created the plains for them to wander on and mountains that they might climb and grow strong. Dancing, he fashioned laughter from the wind singing through the reeds and dreams that his people might shake with joy. Then he fashioned the reeds to give the First People the beasts of the sky and land, and filled the marsh with fish that they might fill their bellies and be content.
And when Unkulunkulu created the Chameleon, he gave his newest creation two tails — one always in the past, one always in the future — so that the Chameleon would be Master of Thresholds. Unkulunkulu made the Chameleon his Messenger, for having command over thresholds, no door could be closed to the Chameleon.
When he had given the first people all the animals, crops, rivers, clouds, flowers, medicine and great dances — there was only one gift left: Eternal Life.
So Unkulunkulu called to the Chameleon.
'Bring my people good tidings,' his voice was soft like the purring thunder rolling over the reeds, 'See there above the Moon — waxing and waning — like the moon, you will die, but then like the Moon, you will return and live'.
The Chameleon had great joy in the message and lovingly took the first steps on his journey to the people. The Chameleon was so happy to bring this gift that he took his time, dancing and laughing, delighting in the future of the world.
But Sickness had found its way through the reeds and Unkulunkulu decided the Chameleon was too slow.
'Come to me, fair Hare,' Unkulunkulu called to the grass — and the Hare bounded up to him to receive the Creator's message.
The Hare was swift and determined, and raced against Sickness to the First People.
'Hark,' she cried in the voice of her Creator, 'I bear the final gift of Unkulunkulu. See above the Moon — like it you live and grow fat, but like it you will die and disappear'. In her haste, the Hare had garbled the message, making it up as she went.
The Chameleon knew as soon as the Hare completed her delivery for one of his tails was in the future where Unkulunkulu's final message had settled on the First People. In a great cry of shame, the Chameleon cut off the tail that lay in the future, hoping to bring Unkulunkulu's message a second time and change the course of history. But the Hare had brought the message first, and the future could not be undone.
Death, too, emerged from the reeds.
In his shame, the Chameleon changed the colour of his skin to hide him from Unkulunkulu and the world.
Pained by his garbled final message, Unkulunkulu sought to comfort his messengers, but only the Hare came. 'Fear not, little one, for I will make you many and you and your kin will outpace Death, for you are indeed swift'. And then in great sadness, Unkulunkulu returned to the reeds where he is forgotten by most.
And that, dear Dylan, is why most of the trouble in life comes from misunderstanding.
