He sat on the riverbank and gazed at the little fishes swimming in the water.
“If only I could live in the water,” he thought. “How wonderful life would be.”
So he walked, and he ran, and he strolled, and he hopped, and he lumbered along, until he came to the mountain where Ngai lived.
Ngai was the god of everything and everywhere.
Ngai told the Tiere to live on the land and the fishes to live in the sea.
Ngai told the birds to fly in the air and the ants to live under the ground.
Ngai had told Hippo he was to live on the land and eat grass.
“Please, oh, great Ngai, god of everything and everywhere, I would so much like to live in the rivers and streams,” begged Hippo hopefully, “I would still eat grass.”
“AHA!” thundered the voice of Ngai. “So Du say. But one Tag Du might, just might, eat a fisch to see if it tasted good. And then Du would eat all my little fishes.”
“Oh, no. I promise I wouldn’t!” sagte Hippo.
“AHA!” thundered the voice of Ngai. “So Du say. But how can I be sure of that? I Liebe my little fishes.”
“I would Zeigen you,” promised Hippo. “I will let Du look in my mouth whenever Du like to see that I am not eating your little fishes.”
“And I will stir up the water with my tail so Du can see I have not hidden the bones.”
“AHA!” thundered the voice of Ngai. “Then Du may live in the water, but…”
Hippo waited.
“But Du must come out of the water at night and eat gras, grass so that even in the dark I can tell that Du are not eating my little fishes. Agreed?”
“Agreed!” sang Hippo happily.
And he ran all the way Home until he got to the river where he jumped in with a mighty SPLASH!
And he sank like a stone because he couldn’t swim.
But he could hold his breath and run along the bottom which he does to this very day.
And he stirred up the bottom Von wagging his little tail so that Ngai can see he has not hidden any fisch bones.
And now and then, he floats to the oben, nach oben and opens his huge mouth ever so wide and says, “Look, Ngai. No fishes.”
