In a quiet stretch of wilderness, an ox had died, and its carcass had begun to rot under the heat of the sun. The smell of decay drifted across the land, carried by the wind until it reached the nose of a starving wolf. His ribs showed through his thin fur, and his eyes burned with hunger. Desperation guided his steps as he followed the scent, hoping the carcass would provide the nourishment he so desperately needed.
Just as he bent down to tear into the rotting flesh, a shadow fell over him. The Spirit of Death, Abdou Dhiabare, appeared without warning, tall and fearsome, his presence chilling the air. His voice, sharp as the crack of thunder, rang out: “By what right do you steal from me? This carcass belongs to me.”
The wolf froze where he stood. His body shook violently, his legs almost giving way beneath him. His hunger was instantly forgotten, replaced by sheer terror. Tears welled in his eyes as he grovelled at the feet of the Spirit. “Forgive me, Abdou Dhiabare,” he begged. “I meant no harm. I was only driven by hunger. I swear, I will never steal from you again. Spare my life, I beg you.”
The Spirit watched him grovel, unmoved by his sobbing pleas. At length, Abdou Dhiabare spoke with measured severity: “Very well. I shall forgive you, but only on one condition. For the next two years, you may feed on carrion as you please. At the end of that time, however, you must come to my kingdom willingly.”
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The wolf’s heart raced, but relief mixed with his fear. Two years seemed long, and in his mind, eternity away. Bowing low, he agreed eagerly: “Yes, Spirit of Death, I promise. I will do as you command.” But in his heart, the wolf clung to a hope, that either two years would never end, or that he could escape far away into lands so distant that Abdou Dhiabare could never find him.
With that, the Spirit vanished, leaving the wolf trembling but alive. For months, the wolf feasted on every carcass he found. Whenever he remembered the agreement, he consoled himself with the thought that perhaps the Spirit had forgotten him, or that he could outrun his fate. Yet time moved steadily forward, indifferent to the wolf’s hopes and fears.
As the second year came to a close, the wolf grew restless. He rarely slept peacefully, for every rustle of leaves made him wonder if Death was near. Still, exhaustion eventually overtook him. One night, as the moon bathed the land in silver light, the wolf slept soundly in his den. Suddenly, a terrible presence entered, heavy and suffocating. Abdou Dhiabare stood before him once more.
“Wake up, wretch!” the Spirit thundered. “The time has come. Gather your things and follow me without delay. Beware, for if you make me wait, you shall suffer even more.”
The wolf leapt to his feet, heart pounding. Fear coursed through every part of him. “Please,” he stammered, “at least let me bid farewell to my wife and children. I wish only to embrace them once more before I leave.”
The Spirit narrowed his eyes, but gave no reply as the wolf turned back into his den. Yet instead of going inside, the wolf bolted, fleeing into the darkness with all the strength left in his body. His paws pounded the earth, his breath came in ragged gasps, but his mind cried out only one thing: escape.
But Abdou Dhiabare was not to be deceived. With a cruel smile, he transformed himself into a fly and gave chase. Buzzing relentlessly, he followed the wolf through thickets, across fields, and over hills. Whenever the wolf thought he had lost him, the sting of the Spirit’s tiny body pressed against his flesh, reminding him of the fate he could not outrun.
The chase stretched on until the wolf’s legs weakened and his lungs burned. Every muscle screamed in agony, but still he ran, desperate to escape the inevitable. Yet the Spirit of Death does not tire. He is patient, eternal, and ever watchful. At last, the wolf’s body gave out. He collapsed in exhaustion, his chest heaving, unable to move another step.
With no strength left to resist, the wolf met his end. Abdou Dhiabare had claimed him, as he had promised two years before. The wolf’s desperate attempt to outwit death had only delayed the inevitable. His career ended not in triumph but in sudden, final silence.
Moral Lesson
This folktale serves as a powerful reminder of the certainty of death. No matter how clever or determined one may be, death cannot be tricked or outrun. The wolf’s bargain with Abdou Dhiabare reveals the folly of thinking one can escape the inevitable. Fear, denial, or flight cannot protect against destiny. True wisdom lies in accepting life’s limits and living with integrity while time is still granted.
Knowledge Check
Q1: What was the wolf doing when Abdou Dhiabare appeared?
A1: He was about to eat the carcass of a dead ox.
Q2: What condition did the Spirit of Death give the wolf?
A2: The wolf could eat carrion for two years but must then come to Death’s kingdom.
Q3: How did the wolf hope to escape his fate?
A3: By fleeing far away, thinking the Spirit would not find him.
Q4: In what form did Abdou Dhiabare pursue the wolf?
A4: He transformed into a fly and chased him relentlessly.
Q5: Why did the wolf ultimately fail?
A5: He became exhausted from fleeing and collapsed, allowing death to claim him.
Q6: What is the central lesson of this folktale?
A6: That death is inevitable and cannot be avoided, no matter how one tries.
Folktale Origin
Source: Wolof folktale, The Gambia.
