Bamba lives in Africa. He has ten brothers and seven sisters. His father is a chief of a big tribe. Their tribe is very peaceful: when they have a war with their neighbours or simply a border conflict they never torture the enemy soldiers. They either turn them into slaves, or if the soldiers look appetizing enough, they cook a wonderful barbecue out of them.
Bamba leads a modest way of life. He is thirteen and he is absolutely free all the time. His father wants him to go to school, but it seems a complete waste of time for a future warrior. Moreover, Bamba can’t stand the mere thought that some miserable man with white teeth and a black suit on to say nothing of an idiotic tie on his neck (it’s not Vorkuta, after all) will teach him how to skin an unexpected guest!
Another thing is that his elder brother Mamba went to Moscow about ten years ago. He just wanted to become a doctor, but all he learned was how to produce moonshine practically out of nothing. Of course, he learned all Russian swear words and could use them brilliantly when his treatment didn’t help the patient. Especially he liked to mention the sick man’s mother, yet nobody could understand what exactly he wanted from her. Perhaps she used to be his patient too.
Once Bamba’s friend Lamba had a running nose and some ‘‘kind’’ people advised him to consult Mamba. ‘‘The greatest healer of all the times’’ said there was nothing wrong with his nose. To his mind, Lamba’s left leg was the only reason for his slight illness and it had to be operated on immediately. Well, to cut a long story short, first he cut off his left leg, then his right leg followed by his arms. At last the patient decided that without his limbs his life had lost its sense and he pleaded to shoot him (the patient, not the doctor). When he was saying it, he was still sneezing. Now Lamba’s skull is on a pole in front of Mamba’s cabin and every patient thinks twice before knocking at his door.
One day a funny thing happened to the Swiss ambassador. He was walking in the jungle and after a while he got lost. Suddenly he saw some men with spears in their hands. As it turned out those were the people from Bamba’s tribe who had been hunting for a couple of days, but all in vain. They gladly agreed to accompany the white man to the nearest village. Von Fritz had no idea why his new friends were so happy to see him. When he did (at last), it was already too late. The Swiss authorities were furious when they found out the truth. But Ramba, Bamba’s father, was an outstanding diplomat and a man of honour. He simply said: ‘We ate your ambassador by mistake. I am sorry. You may eat ours.’ That’s how that international dispute was settled to the mutual content of the both parties.
So if you happen to be in Switzerland don’t say Mamba, Bamba, or Ramba aloud. O.K. I warned you.