Short Story - Fumungo!

at at one time upon a time in the deserts North Africa, there was a drouth that caused solely communitys to struggle, but one kinsperson had more hardships than any other. This family line, physical bodyd the Yao called a meeting to discuss the drought and possible solutions for survival. For many weeks the tribe had little luck with decision water and food, causing goal to the weakest among them. The ancient stories spoke of a magical tree that ever produces thousands of sand pears. But no one in the tribe knew if the stories were true. The story said that at the net of the mountain to the east, lies a drift that knows the conjure of this fabled tree. When the trees name is spoken aloud at its base, abundant growth rains down. The elders, being very expansive for food, go underd to send their finest runner, Boboa, to scram the spirit and return with the name of the tree. The next day, Boboa ran as close as his muscled legs could take him. He sprinted up the mounta in view of what a hero he would be when he returned. When he reached the top of the mountain he spoke out yelling, What is the name of the magic tree, o in good order spirit?\nThe spirit responded in a booming contribution, Fumungo! \n give thanks you spirit, said Boboa.\nWith the name tuck firmly in his mind, he ran back down the mountain. As he returned home, he tripped and ludicrous his head on a rock. The elders ran for him and asked him the name of the tree. Dizzy, he replied, Fum. Fum. Fum. Boboa had bury the name!\nThe elders met again to decide who would make the second move to the mountaintop. The chief of the tribe, Zimbo, who was wise, but anile and frail offered to go, but the others mulish to send the strongest among them to the great spirit. Odo, who was a huge man, do it to the top of the mountain with ease. He asked the spirit for the name of the tree once again the spirit voice boomed, Fumungo!  With that, the bulky native made it back down the mou ntain. He thought, No one is as strong...