Alkebu’s Journey
A wide-mouth frog's story
The waters stood silent from horizon to horizon. The rains came early, fell often, and stayed late—a hardship for some but a blessing to many more. The Mara’s waters were barely discernible from the flood around it, but the rainy season was most definitely over.
The sun’s scorching gaze, the Jua Kali that rules over all, suspended in its cloudless, amaranthine azure sky, was intensifying. The Majini’s twisted shadows, their desiccated dance preying on the waters, rising steadily upwards, could be seen across the plains. Upepo’s dry, hot, and forceful breath was still months away. All but one knew how rich and plentiful the plains were this season.
Alkebu’s mother had perished in the previous dry season. With all her will and strength, Mother had laid her eggs in the only saturated patch of earth she could reach—no more than a small, shallow plashet of thick mud and debris. Mother was not aware of her clutch’s number. With her last breath, she blessed them, praying they would survive and thrive. Praying that at least one of her brood would rise up and protect them all.
Mother knew many of her kind had perished, caught unprepared in one of the worst dry seasons in memory. Mother knew that for her life to mean something, she would have to sacrifice her dreams and hopes, and her life, for her children. Not an act of desperation but an act of love. With her clutch now in the safety of the mud, Mother closed her eyes for the last time and lay still in the dust.
That was two years ago.
Relentless, Jua Kali went about the work of exsiccating the plains. Slowly, the waters receded until only small puddles dotted the landscape. The rushing, muddy waters of the Mara were now clearly visible. Rich with topsoil, the broad browns of the Mara flowed swiftly, awakening all that slumbered along its banks with its nurturing, nourishing touch.
Just before the last waters vanished, the plains came alive! Grass shoots of every description began to show their bladed tips like fingers reaching for the heavens. Wildflowers and orchids arose like a blanket of reds, yellows, golds, pinks, purples, and blues. The denizens of this paradise frolicked with elation and without a care. Still, they all knew, like life itself, this was transitory.
Out of the seemingly primordial ooze of the puddle she now found herself in stood a gasping and blinded Alkebu — a Wide-Mouth frog. Her skin was still slick from the silt of the mire, with a remnant of slime from her egg sac; Alkebu glistened under Jua Kali’s watchful eye. Slowly, she opened her eyes. As the fog from her long slumber cleared, she saw a vast ocean of grass and flowers around her. Colours so vibrant, fragrances so sweet and divine, she felt the richness of life but was unaware of her good fortune.
The magic of the plains that produced such vibrant vistas now took hold of Alkebu. She felt her legs and body growing steadily but slowly. Her eyes could not believe what she was seeing, so she closed them. There was no pain associated with this growth, just a kind of tingling like grass rubbing against her moist skin.
When the tingling stopped, she opened her eyes. To her surprise, the world around her had gotten smaller!
Alkebu was about to stretch her legs and explore her world when she realised a rumbling and grumbling was coming from inside her body. And there was movement in the puddle around her, tiny ripples emanating from what seemed like small droplets from the sky. But it was not raining. One by one, her brothers and sisters were emerging from the puddle. Small and fragile, they crowded around her, believing Alkebu to be their mother. It took but a moment for Alkebu to come to that realisation. Something deep within her told her she was their mother, that they had to be cared for.
Out of all the clutch of eggs, only Alkebu matured into a young adult. One of the countless mysteries of life on the plains. Her babies, so small and fragile, were carrying on, voices crackling and clamouring in the hot, humid air. She counted them: 11. So many! And they were all hungry. She was hungry, too.
Alkebu was not fully grown, which would take some years, but she was large, about .4kg and nearly 12cm long. She called out to her babies in her loudest, heaviest voice, telling them to hop on her back. She had no idea what to feed her babies. In fact, she did not even know what she liked to eat. With her babies riding on her back, she set off on a journey to discover what to feed them.
Alkebu was only a few hops from the puddle when she came across Mrs Rhinoceros. She was huge! Every step she took shook the ground. She was glorious from the tip of her massive horn to the end of her tail. Near her were her two children. About one-third her size, but ponderous and healthy. They were running circles around their mother when they stopped and looked at Alkebu.
“Hello, Ms Rhinoceros, can I trouble you?” called out Alkebu in her loudest voice and widest mouth while enunciating each word and syllable clearly and deliberately. “Of course, my dear. How can I help you?” answered Ms Rhinoceros in a calm and amazingly soft voice. “I am all alone with my babies. I have just awoken. I am greatly perplexed …” responded Alkebu once again in her loudest voice and widest mouth, carrying on and on, describing in great detail all she had seen and all her thoughts after she awoke.
With her children restless and Ms Rhinoceros losing interest, she finally stopped Alkebu, saying, “Yes, my dear, that is a pleasant story, but what is it that you want?” “Oh, yes. What do you feed your babies?” Alkebu said in her loudest voice and widest mouth. “I see. Well, I feed my babies my milk and tender grass shoots.” Alkebu knew she produced no milk but took a bite of grass shoots. Bleecch! Spitting them out in disgust, she said in her loudest voice and widest mouth, “Thank you, Mrs Rhinoceros.”
Continuing to hop across the plains with her babies still crying and clamouring on her back, she thought surely someone had to know what to feed her babies.
Seeing some large trees ahead and Ms Giraffe, she hopped up to Ms Giraffe. She towered above the plains, her head in the branches and leaves of the tree. Her child was quiet and still as she stood beside their mother. She was about half her mother’s height but thin and willowy. They looked amused as they saw Alkebu hop out of the grass into view.
Once again, Alkebu asked in her loudest voice and widest mouth, enunciating each word and syllable clearly and deliberately, “Hello, Ms Giraffe, can I trouble you?” “Why, of course, dear,” said Ms Giraffe in a barely audible long, slow exhale. Alkebu once more responded with her long story. Enunciating each word and syllable clearly.
Finally, tiring of Alkebu’s lengthy story, Ms Giraffe said, “All well and good, my dear, but what do you want?” “Oh, yes. What do you feed your babies?” Alkebu said in her loudest voice and widest mouth. “I feed my children soft, fresh leaves from the tallest trees.” Alkebu looked at the trees and knew she could not reach those leaves. But there were a few on the ground. She hopped over to a small mound of leaves and took a big bite. Bleecch! Spitting them out in disgust, she said in her loudest voice and widest mouth, “Thank you, Mrs Giraffe.”
Alkebu was determined to find an answer. She saw a short distance off a line of shrubs and trees on the banks of the Mara River. She decided to go there and ask whoever she met first. She was tired, hungry and frustrated. Her babies’ cries were getting louder and louder. She was starting to fear for them and for herself.
Hopping close to the river, she saw Ms Crocodile. She was a sight to see. Long and low to the ground with massive jaws and teeth, she was beautiful with her knobby, tan and green skin. Her tail swished back and forth slowly in the muddy water. She was half buried in the mud of the river’s embankment.
Her large brood of children scurried around her on land and in the water. They were taking turns spinning in the shallows. She dwarfed her children in size and weight. Her children all froze, mouths open, each staring at Alkebu as she hopped close to their mother.
Once again, Alkebu asked in her loudest voice and widest mouth, enunciating each word and syllable clearly and deliberately, “Hello, Ms Crocodile, can I trouble you?” Ms Crocodile turned slowly to meet Alkebu’s gaze. “Not at all, Ms Wide-Mouth Frog,” said Ms Crocodile in a low, guttural voice. Alkebu once more responded with her lengthy story. Enunciating each word and syllable clearly.
Ms Crocodile’s children were all inching closer to Alkebu. Each one with their mouth open. Ms Crocodile let out a short, brisk bellow, and all her children stopped quite still in their tracks and closed their mouths. Ms Crocodile’s sudden outburst startled Alkebu, and she stopped her story. “Get on with it, child; what can I do for you?” Ms Crocodile said impatiently, in her usual slow and deliberate low guttural growl. Alkebu, still shaking a bit, asked, “Oh yes, well ... what do you feed your babies?”
Now, Ms Crocodile heard the cries of Ms Wide-Mouth frog’s babies and heard the desperation in her voice. Realising what she was really asking, Ms Crocodile thought to herself, “What do Wide-mouth frogs eat?”. Looking around her, having seen many a wide-mouth frog in her day, responded, “I should think your babies eat bugs and insects: the creepy, crawly things on the ground and the little, nasty things that buzz about.”
Alkebu thought about this answer. Seeing a fly above her head, she snatched it in mid-air with her long tongue and swallowed it whole. Yummy! “My babies will love these!” she murmured to herself.
But still curious and happy to finally have an answer, she asked in her loudest voice and widest mouth possible, enunciating each word and syllable clearly and deliberately, “But what do you feed your babies?”
Ms Crocodile’s children inched forward as she responded, “Why, I feed my babies Wide-Mouth frogs.” Alkebu’s babies grew silent. Nervously, with her softest voice and barely opening her mouth, Alkebu answered quickly and quietly,
“Oh.”
Alkebu, with her now quiet babies still on her back, hurriedly hopped off and disappeared into the grasses and flowers of the plains, a little more cautious, smarter and wiser.
©Story by Thomas Crandall, originally written in September 2001, revised May 2026
This story is based on a joke I used to tell many, many years ago. I am not sure where I heard the joke or if I made it up. I created a story from the joke the tell to my 7 year old’s grade school class. I know there is a children’s book about wide-mouth frogs, but nothing like this joke or my story. I love storytelling. More to come. Thank you for reading.
“A soft, gentle word gathers a wide following.”- An old proverb.