I've heard the tale of Lesane Mourita, a man whose sense of direction was so abysmal, he once got lost in his own house.
One sunny Saturday, Lesane woke up bright and early, ready to tackle his household chores. He decided to start with the upstairs bedrooms. But as he climbed the stairs, his trusty pet parrot, Mango, squawked a cheerful greeting, distracting him momentarily.
With his attention momentarily diverted, Lesane stepped into the hallway and promptly forgot which way led to the bedrooms. Panic surged through him as he realized he was utterly disoriented.
As hours turned into what felt like days, Lesane's resolve dwindled. He had stumbled upon every nook and cranny of his house, but his bedroom remained an elusive mirage.
Just when the hope began to flicker out, he heard a faint scratching sound. He followed the noise to a tiny door tucked away inside a closet. With trembling hands, he pulled the door open and found himself face-to-face with Mango.
"Mango!" Lesane exclaimed, tears of relief streaming down his cheeks. "You found me!"
Mango squawked triumphantly and hopped onto Lesane's shoulder.
As Lesane and Mango made their way back to the bedroom, they couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Lesane Mourita, the man who got lost in his own house.
From that day forward, Lesane never took his sense of direction for granted. And whenever he felt himself getting disoriented, he would simply call out, "Mango, where are we?"
And Mango would always squawk the correct answer.