The Yorùbá tradition holds no single account of the marks on the tortoise's shell, and this file sets the four sourced narratives side by side to show what varies and what does not.
The tortoise's shell is seamed, plated and marked, and Yorùbá àlọ́ explains this more than once. This file sets out the four narratives documented in this section, plus a fifth attested outside the Yorùbá scholarly record, and compares them. The point of the comparison is that there is no canonical version: a single collector working in one region recorded three different explanations, which is direct evidence that the tradition tolerated competing aetiologies rather than settling on one.
Each tale is told in full in its own file. This file is the comparison and does not repeat the narratives.
1. The rock of yams. During a famine Ìjàpá extracts from a lizard the secret of a rock that opens to a spoken command, loads himself with more yams than he can carry, forgets the words, and is caught and smashed by the farmer. A cockroach and an ant come when he calls and mend him. The mended places are the rough parts. Ellis, 1894 . alo-ijapa-and-the-rock-of-yams
2. The tortoise and Tela. The same magic rock, opened by a song rather than a command, held by a man named Tela rather than a lizard. Ìjàpá brings the whole country to empty the store, is trapped by the rock, and is smashed by the starving Tela. Ants and insects reassemble him imperfectly and the joins show. Parkinson, 1909, from Ọ̀yọ́ . alo-the-tortoise-and-tela
3. The agidi tree. Ìjàpá eats in front of the hungry dog and throws the leaf wrappings in his face. The dog plants them, they bear agidi, and when Ìjàpá later sings at the fruit himself a stone falls and smashes him. Ants and insects mend him and the marks remain. Parkinson, 1909, from Ọ̀yọ́ . alo-the-dog-and-the-tortoise
4. Trampled by the grateful. In a drought the tortoise solves the animals' problem by sending them back to the diviner. They come to thank him, cannot see him because he is small and on the ground, and tread on him. The footmarks are the marks on his back. Parkinson, 1909, from Ọ̀yọ́ . alo-the-tortoise-helps-the-animals
5. The feast in the sky. Ìjàpá makes wings from borrowed feathers, gorges at the birds' festival, is stripped of the feathers as the guests leave, and falls onto stones laid out by an enemy who mimics his wife's voice. The shell cracks. Attested in a 2025 archival performance transcript from a Nigerian informant , and belonging to a tale type also told in Igbo tradition. alo-the-feast-in-the-sky
The agent of destruction. A farmer beats and smashes him (1). A starving friend smashes him (2). A stone falls with no one present (3). Grateful animals tread on him without noticing (4). He falls from a height onto stones laid by an enemy (5). These are five genuinely different theories of what breaks a tortoise: judicial violence, hunger-driven rage, impersonal consequence, careless gratitude, and deliberate malice.
The offence. Theft compounded by greed (1). Betrayal of a friend's trust, at scale (2). Refusal to share, then attempted theft (3). Nothing at all (4). Gluttony and imposture (5). The fourth is the outlier and the most interesting entry in the set, because it explains the same physical fact without any wrongdoing on the tortoise's part. The marks there are the price of being small and helpful among the large and thoughtless.
Whether he is repaired. In (1), (2) and (3) he is destroyed and then reassembled by insects, and the marks are seams of repair. In (4) he is merely trodden on, so the marks are footprints, not scars. In (5) the shell cracks and no repair is mentioned. The distinction matters: a seam and a footprint are different kinds of mark, and the tales are not describing the same visual fact about the animal.
Who does the mending. A cockroach and an ant, summoned by name in a pitiful voice (1). Big ants and all manner of insects, arriving unbidden (2). All the ants and insects (3). The constant is that the smallest creatures repair the smashed one, and in the one case where he asks, they come.
Three things hold across all four Yorùbá-sourced tales.
The mark is permanent and it is evidence. Every version ends by pointing at the living animal: "the places where they mended him are those parts of Tortoise which are rough"; "the joins where they mended him show on the back of the tortoise to this day"; "these marks remain until this day"; "it is their footmarks you see upon his back to this day." The tale is not finished until the audience is directed to check.
The repair is imperfect and the imperfection is the point. Parkinson's versions state it directly: "they all did the best they could, but they could not mend his back properly." The helpers are competent and willing and the result is still visibly wrong. The corpus notes as analysis that this is a more interesting proposition than simple punishment, since it says that a thing broken and restored does not return to its former condition, however good the intentions of those restoring it.
The tortoise survives. He is beaten, smashed to pieces, crushed under rock, hit with a stone, trampled and dropped from a height, and he is in the next tale. owe-tortoise-ijapa-trickster records the proverb Ọ̀ràn kì í yẹ̀ lórí alábaun, trouble never fails to fall on the head of the tortoise, and the aetiological tales are the physical record of that standing condition.
The strongest evidence in this file is Parkinson's own sequencing. He prints a note between his tales stating plainly: "Stories VIII., IX., and X. tell how the tortoise got the marks on his back" . Three consecutive tales, from one collector, in one region, in one publication, offering three incompatible explanations, presented without any attempt to reconcile them or to mark one as correct.
That is not a defect in the record. It is information about how the genre works. An àlọ́ is not a doctrinal statement about the world, and yoruba-alo sets out the frame that makes this explicit: the opening formula marks off the fictional world from waking reality, so what follows is not a claim being asserted. A teller may explain the shell by theft on one night and by gratitude on another, and neither telling is refuted by the other. Compare the same phenomenon in the proverb record, where owe-tortoise-ijapa-trickster shows two proverbs using the identical image of a hungry snake and a strutting tortoise to argue opposite conclusions.
The corpus therefore records these as four tales rather than four versions of one tale, and declines to construct a composite. Where a reader wants "the Yorùbá explanation of the tortoise's shell," the honest answer is that there are at least four, that they disagree about what he did and who broke him, and that a Yorùbá child hearing them across a season of evenings would have heard several without difficulty.
The feast-in-the-sky tale is the version most likely to be encountered by an English-language reader, and it needs handling. It is the same tale type as the well-known Igbo tortoise narrative embedded in Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, chapter 11, and it circulates widely across West Africa. The version treated in alo-the-feast-in-the-sky is a genuine Yorùbá attestation from a Nigerian informant, recorded in a university folklore archive in 2025 , and it is presented as such. But it should not be offered as the Yorùbá explanation of the shell, and this compiler located no nineteenth or early twentieth century Yorùbá collection containing it. It is a shared West African type with a Yorùbá telling, and the four above are the ones with depth in the Yorùbá collection record.
alo-ellis-1894-as-a-source.alo-parkinson-1909-as-a-source.alo-the-feast-in-the-sky.A famine tale in which Ìjàpá wheedles the secret of a magic yam-store out of the lizard, loads himself too heavily to leave, forgets the opening words, and is smashed and mended by insects.
An Ọ̀yọ́ variant of the magic yam-rock tale in which the rock opens to a song rather than a command, and Ìjàpá betrays his friend by bringing the whole country to empty the store.
A tale in which Ajá the dog plants the leaves Ìjàpá threw in his face, grows a tree that bears agidi, and repays the insult exactly, with the tortoise killed by a falling stone when he tries the same song.
A drought tale in which every large animal fails to reach the water and the despised tortoise solves it by asking one question, then is trampled by the animals coming to thank him.
The borrowed-feathers tale in which Ìjàpá flies to the birds' festival disguised as a bird, is stripped of his wings, and falls onto stones laid by an enemy imitating his wife's voice.
Twenty-nine Yorùbá proverbs built around Àjàpá the tortoise, the tradition's central trickster animal, presented with the original, a literal gloss, a named translation, and the situation each is spoken in.