Whenever I was sad as a child, my mother would tell me this story. It would inspire me because it would remind me to always be truthful and to see the funny side of life. Even though the story has a rather just ending, I would always feel sorry for the poor tortoise and would laugh at his foolishness. But on a deeper level, this story connected me to my culture in Nigeria and the mystic factionalism of my mothers child hood.
I think this story can inspire, and it has inspired me in particular. It has remained one of my all time pick me up stories, especially the way my mother told it. It reminded me of my culture and the history of story telling in Africa, something that growing up as a kid in a predominantly white primary school, i didn't really get.