An Igbo elder once said; Onye na-eleda ihe nke ya anya nwere ike iji ndụ ya niile na-eyi onyinye ndị ọzọ – a person who despises what is theirs may spend a lifetime wearing the gifts of others. The last time I visited my grandmother before her demise, she grounded this expression with what she called a cautionary tale about Ogwurugwu, the Chameleon. I noticed the way she tightened her wrapper before she spoke. I had seen that gesture many times before. I knew I was about to hear a tale.
There are those who are given bronze and spend their whole lives still chasing gold. Ogwurugwu was not always the swaying, uncertain creature you see today tilting left and right like. There was a time when Ogwurugwu stood differently. Before the first man pressed his foot upon the earth, before the forests learned the names of birds and before the rivers settled into their courses, Ogwurugwu was one of Chukwu's chosen. Of all the creatures He had made, Chukwu found him wise and trustworthy. When a message had to travel from heaven to earth, it was Ogwurugwu who carried it. When he was sent, he returned. When he was questioned, he spoke the truth. And because of this, Chukwu loved him dearly.
And before sending him away, Chukwu gave Ogwurugwu something by which all creatures would know him: a colour of his own. A rich bronze, glowing like metal fresh from the blacksmith's fire. At sunrise, it shone warmly, and at dusk it carried the colour of embers resting beneath ash.
On earth, beauty was a serious matter, and every creature wore its given-ness like a title. Before Ogwurugwu would engage in any formal communication, his beauty already announced him. Whenever animals of the earth gathered in the village square beneath the moon, they admired him.
"Look at him, he must be so lucky,” they would say. Even the setting sun admired its reflection on his skin.
And whenever Ogwurugwu hears this, he looks up to the sky and says, “It is my Creator who has given me such beauty. He is the one who should be praised."
But praise is like palm wine left too long in the sun. What begins sweet in the morning can turn sour in the evening. It wasn't long before Ogwurugwu began to wonder why he remained only Chukwu's messenger while others sat upon thrones on earth.
Little by little, pride crawled into the heart of the chameleon. All the respect and praises now made him curious. So, one day, Ogwurugwu thought to himself, I have everything at my beck and call, everyone smiles at me,” he thought, “then why do I remain only a messenger? The next day, the thought grew too large to ignore. So, he climbed a tree high enough he could almost see the sky in its detail and called out to Chukwu.
“You have given me beauty that turns heads,” Ogwurugwu said, "and in return I have served you faithfully. I have carried your messages. I have done all you asked of me. But today I come to you asking only one favour.”
He went ahead and to tell Chukwu of his desire to rule over the other animals as their King. Chukwu was surprised. Not because never was it heard that a Chameleon rules amidst other bigger animals, but because never before had a messenger asked for a throne.
“A crown is heavier than it appears," Chukwu replied, "for the one who rules must think first of others before himself.”
But Ogwurugwu insisted, and because Ogwurugwu had a soft spot in Chukwu's heart, Chukwu decided to grant his request with a condition.
"The day you begin to love the crown more than the subjects beneath it, everything I have given you shall return to me,” Chukwu said.
Ogwurugwu agreed.
He was made king the next day. The love the animals had for him did not stop whispers from spreading. While others spoke behind closed mouths, the parrot spoke openly. So Ogwurugwu went to the parrot and told him of Chukwu's approval. And because the animals held Chukwu in reverence, they accepted him as their king. Ogwurugwu then promised them a plentiful table for as long as he wore the crown.
But seasons passed, and Ogwurugwu did not keep his word. He became a selfish king. When the harvest was plentiful, he filled his own barns while leaving little for others. When disputes arose among the animals, he showed partiality. The strong sat at his table, while the weak were left unattended to.
After seasons had passed, Chukwu came in fury and he took back all he gave the Chameleon. Not only did Chukwu take back the bronze colour He had once given him, He cursed Ogwurugwu also. A curse that followed his kind through the seasons, through the years, and through every generation that came after. When the Chameleon retreated to the branches of high trees where he could not be seen easily by the earth animals, little did he know that Chukwu's curse had already taken effect for he became wherever surrounding he found himself in.
My grandmother did not narrate this tale to us, so that we would thereafter resent Ogwurugwu, the Chameleon. She told this tale so we might recognise ourselves in it. For what is Ogwurugwu if not a mirror held up to the human heart? The tale goes beyond colours, crowns, and curses. It reveals the danger of neglecting the value of what has already been placed in our hands. It cautions against selfishness, discontentment, and the habit of looking so long at what belongs to others that we become blind to what already belongs to us.
For there are people who are given bronze and spend their whole lives chasing gold. And by the time they realize the worth of what they once had, it is already gone. In Igbo this is Aru in its deepest sense. Not merely shame, but the consequence that arrives when a person desecrates what is sacred.
