Basically, an acoustic echo chamber is an enclosed empty space where sounds reverberate off the walls over and over, intensifying, and being distorted during the process. More recently, the expression is being used metaphorically, in the media especially, in order to refer to a situation which includes a closed system of people and concepts. In this type of circumstance, communicating entails repeating the same restricted set of ideas all the time, such that it is the beliefs that already exist that are reinforced and strengthened. Here, because of unconscious confirmation bias, that is the human tendency for people to seek evidence that confirms their beliefs and to ignore other evidence, the correspondents will choose only the information which accords with their present viewpoint. In wider society, the echo-chamber effect leads to cultural tribalism, increasing political polarization, and extremism. But nowhere does this effect operate worse than in some broken homes, where the members tell three stories: the one which is proclaimed to the world; the one which is shared between them; and the true tale. In broken families, there is no audience for the real story, since it threatens to shatter the fake family image. And that is a thing to be avoided, whatever the cost. 

 

Hey, you old mongrel, mun! That old eejit, Fred, the caretaker or whatever in the Clinic in Aberdydd, has been, well, ‘communicating’ with me once again. (He always starts off by saying, really theatrically, something like: "Greetings, Master Dá∙hwyth Oh·fé, Daud Pekar, David Baxter, the triply-named Wizard," for some unknown reason.) He says he’s come across some document from Faraqand or somewhere, and he’s trying to translate it, but no success. Why a full-grown man should want to do such a thing, I dunno, he really is a dead odd character. He spends far too much time on looking after his collection of tame beetles in my opinion, the nasty stinky beasts. Anyway, it’s some ancient tale from Sanjibaar about cheeky marsupials and their magic cauldron, as far as I can see. I’ve sat in the lavvy for hours (well, half an hour at least) casting an eye over the piece of paper, or parchment, or papyrus, or whatever, and I can declare definitively that I know it’s not written in el-Rābyah, or K'swākhilí, or Heladic.

 

After all that hard work (the considering, not the other thing!), Fred told me that the language is Asa from North Ganzibia. Well, I’m a bit of an expert in foreign languages, as it happens, and I’m even better at inventing stories. And anything’s better than doing the boring homework for that old stinky devil, back in the school. Oh how much I hate those hellish numerology classes, mun! And I’ll win twenty quid if I can persuade Freddy-boy that everything’s correct. So, read on, friends, to hear the shameful story of the Boisterous Red Monkeys! (By the way, I was wrong about the details, and the title, to start off with) —

 

“Once upon a time, not long ago, not far from here, on the Isle of Sanjibaar, there was a small troupe of red monkeys, Procolobus kirkii to be totally correct. They were in great danger of disappearing off the face of this round Eyrth, although they lived there like one reasonably happy family in a manner of speaking, with a mum and dad, Mag and Jog, a daughter, Eg, two friends, Steg and Dag, and a grand-dad, too, Ig (although they would all say ‘Uncle Ig’ just to confuse things), but they didn’t belong together like in a real family to tell the truth. One of the boys liked the girl, and she fancied the other kid, and the third lad there was crazy about the first boy. They were always up to mischief, because they were boisterous monkeys without a doubt. You know what kind of critters those are, don’t you? 

 

“In the old days, there was an abundant supply of coconuts for the monkeys, which was a good thing, because everyone thought they were exceptionally tasty, and healthy to boot. And on top of that, no-one was very keen on mangroves, and in truth, those fruits made them sick; perhaps they were allergic to them. Who could say, there’s no doctors to look after monkeys, even cute, clever, and interesting ones, don’t you be so stupid! 

 

“But the farmers on the island got so mad to see their arboreal cousins feasting on their crops, that they would take pot-shots at the dear creatures all day long. But lithe and lissom were the bugbears, who easily escaped, and so the farmers needed to put up enormous walls around the palms with razor-wire on them, to keep the cheeky thieves out. 

 

“And that caused a big problem, to say the least, to the heroes of our tale, who began to starve. The men were quarrelling all the time about how to find enough coconuts. One of them would study keenly in the scarce libraries, the plentiful watering-holes, and the welcoming flop-houses on the mainland in Northern Ganzibia whilst the other went off to fight or steal things, or to sell special spices to stupid human beings overseas, who used to put them up their noses, for the most part, as if it were some sort of foreign, exotic, and exorbitantly expensive snuff.

 

“Whilst the fighting and the spice-transport business was fine and most profitable to the grand-dad (called Uncle Ig, of course), they only spoke the old Asa language in the institutions of higher education mentioned before. And that language, containing only a few words that the elders were accustomed to use a long time ago, was on the point of dying. Because of that, the father did not succeed in learning a thing, except, maybe, from the proverb: “Ilat ‘ore’ek buxurita ga, ma’a wataka rakash, wat dah hajat, ‘agim yataa kite” – “When the far eye buns the clouds, so that all the water is dried up, then like dogs we shall claw the Eyrth, to eat and drink before we die.” But then again, he really was not sure at all. 

 

“It is a shame to report that it was not all a bed of roses in the groves of the Eyrthly Paradise, either. Whilst the men of the nest were away from home, the mother would run off with another hairy friend who’d been a mate of one of the blokes – to have a bit of fun and reassurance during the long, lonely nights, should we say? And of course, that was an enormous problem to everyone when all the shenanigans came to light at last. No-one knew whether they were coming or going. Indeed, the whole situation became explosive in the end. 

 

“Now, while the bigger lad carved cartoons on the bark of trees around the place, the daughter was very busy doing who-knows-what. She would stride up and down in the forest, reciting poetry. Of course, mother would seize this opportunity to dawdle up the tree of some other monkey, enjoying lovely chats instead of doing the house-work (that was a job for men, she said). But it was not only Mag who was taking advantage of the freedom, but Eg too, who would often disappear with one of the boys to No-fault-here, apart from the time when she went, once, on her own, for a whole week. 

 

“As happens often in situations like this, it was up to the smallest kid to solve the problem, win the prize, and overcome the difficulties. While the rest were squandering valuable time, he would go out amongst the forest-dwellers seeking answers. The monkey who seeks shall find, was his watch-word. And in No-fault-here, that same clever monkey succeeded in learning from some old native wise-woman named El-en Tw-wr, a secret or two on how to farm the best ever coconuts to be seen this side this side of the Sintu Valley, using technological miracles introduced by a tribe of extra-terrestrial wizards, apparently.

 

“I cannot mention it further here on pain of death, but sufficient to say that he got the world’s simplest recipe explaining how to grow the biggest, tastiest, hardest, sweetest, and hairiest coconuts, totally free, by using only totally natural and sustainable substances, which were available more-or-less on demand to every healthy monkey! (I won’t be letting the snake out of the reptile trap if I reveal that our happy family of primates needed to eat a very great deal of coconuts, and then wait for a while, before the biological magic began to work.) And then the cunning animal had an idea, and fashioned a plan. 

 

“That enlightened monkey chattered eloquently about what he’d discovered, and the small family was allowed by the farmers to come into the stockade legally for the first time to help them to modernize the production process. They would provide services of all kinds about the new works whilst being able to gobble down as much of the produce as they wanted. And the side-effects were easy to foresee, from one point-of-view, and exceptionally worthwhile too, but not in the way that was intended, from another perspective. 

 

“With the enormous success of the new method of fertilisation, the hairy workers had to labour harder and harder, but they weren’t being paid enough of the tasty produce because the sneaky agriculturalists were like shrivelled-up misers. And moreover, they treated the poor slaves as the Ancient Kings had treated their people millennia ago. There wasn’t enough spare time to lie in a hammock either, playing the fool and drinking gin and tonic. So they were getting awfully tired, which caused them to drop half of the coconuts, which would break into smithereens. Of course, as you know, I hope, palm-trees grow to be about 30 metres tall, so when the enormous nuts fell down onto the heads of the lazy human workers below, then there were two kinds of nuts being broken! 

 

“There were other unexpected consequences too. As the monkeys couldn’t eat a lot due to lack of time and appetite, so great was their exhaustion, they weren’t producing enough organic fertilizer and that had a terrible effect on the crops soon enough. Furthermore, tensions between members of the hairy crew were growing, as a result of this collection of troubling circumstances, with the one setting about the others using rude words, and fists, and sharp teeth, and chucked coconuts. Even worse was when everyone realised that mother had been selling stupendous spice on the sly without anyone knowing.

 

“One hot and cruel day when everyone had been at it working non-stop for hours, the youngest monkey paused up in the roof for a minute to have a quick smoke of dried banana-leaf, and a tod of the finest Kimbric whiskey ("Living Nightmare" from the Mute Island) when he let the cigarette fall to the factory floor {Banana Beauty}. Well, the place was stuffed full of monkey fertiliser, and sawdust, and stacked coconuts, and rubbish, and petrol spilled from the ancient generator, and things like that. Needless to say, the building exploded at once and everything in it too, including all the monkeys, probably, in a blinding flash and a shower of shattered coconuts. 

 

“But that’s not the end of our cautionary tale. While the team of slave-labourers ate the organic coconuts, they were creating more space for the other plants that were left behind to grow vigorously in. After the explosion, which scattered manure all over the place, the vegetation went wild for a while but finally the land was overgrown, and that’s what destroyed the crop entirely from then on. Since the Boisterous Red Monkeys were an important tourist attraction, after their demise the sight-seeing industry soon disappeared off the island too. 

 

“And of course, that’s the derivation of the world-famous saying, ‘Unless you pay a monkey his appropriate wage, all you’ll get is cracked nuts.’ Despite the fact that this tale comes to you, wherever you may be, from the Darkest Depths of Faraqand (well, from an island off its eastern coast), it’s very important for all of you always to bear this message in mind, too, isn’t it, dearest folks? And, to finish, don’t you want to ask – what about the little monkey, son to Eg and Dag (perhaps), scion of the Red line, who was being brought up in No-fault-here by El-en? Ah, but you’re too late by now, inquisitive friends. You’ll have to wait to see.”

 

Yn y bôn, mae siambr atsain acwstig yn lle gwag caeedig lle bydd seiniau’n diasbedain oddi ar y waliau drosodd a throsodd, gan ddwysáu a chael eu hystumio yn ystod y broses. Yn fwy diweddar, yr ydys yn defnyddio’r ymadrodd yn drosiadol, yn y cyfryngau’n enwedig, er mwyn cyfeirio at sefyllfa sydd yn cynnwys system gaeedig o bobl a chysyniadau. Yn y fath amgylchedd bydd cyfathrebu’n golygu ailadrodd yr un set gyfyngedig o syniadau bob tro, fel mai’r coelion sydd eisoes yn bod a atgyfnerthir a chryfheir. Yma, oherwydd tuedd cadarnhad anymwybodol, hynny yw, tueddiad dynol i bobl chwilio am dystiolaeth sy’n cadarnhau eu credoau ac anwybyddu tystiolaeth arall, bydd y gohebyddion yn dewis dim ond y wybodaeth sydd yn cyd-fynd â’u safbwynt presennol. Yn y gymdeithas letach mae’r effaith siambr atsain yn arwain at lwytholdeb diwylliannol, polareiddiad gwleidyddol cynyddol, ac eithafiaeth. Ond nid yw’r effaith hon yn gweithredu’n waeth nag mewn rhai teuluoedd toredig, lle mae’r aelodau’n dweud tair stori: yr un a gyhoeddir wrth y byd; yr un a rhennir rhyngddynt; a’r hanes gwir. Mewn teulu toredig, nid oes gynulleidfa o gwbl ar gyfer y stori o iawn, gan ei bod yn bygwth chwalu’r ddelwedd deuluol gau. A dyna beth i’w osgoi, costied a gostio.

 

Hei, yr hen frithgi di, w! Mae’r hen dwpsyn na, Ffred, y gofalwr neu beth bynnag yn y Clinig yn Aberdydd, wedi bod yn, wel, ‘cyfathrebu’ da fi unwaith to. (Mae e bob adeg yn dechrau wrth ddweud yn ddramatig iawn, rywbeth fel, "Cyfarchion, y Meistr Dá∙hwyth Oh·fé, Daud Pekar, David Baxter, y Dewin wedi'i enwi deirgwaith," am ryw reswm anhysbys.) Mae’n dweud fod e wedi dod o hyd i ryw ddogfen o Faraqand neu rywle, a’i fod e’n drio’i chyfieithu hi, ond heb lwyddo. Pam ddylai dyn mewn oed eisiau neud y fath beth, dwn i’m, ond dyna ti, creadur od iawn yw e’n wir. Mae’n hala gormod o lawer o amser ar ofalu am ei gasgliad o chwilod llywaeth yn ‘y nhyb i, y bwystfilod drewllyd, atgas. Ta be, rhyw chwedl hynafol o Sanjibaar am folgodogion ewn a’u crochan hudol yw hi, hyd y gwela i. Wi di eistedd yn y tŷ bach am oriau (wel, hanner awr o leia) gan fwrw golwg dros y darn o bapur, neu femrwn, neu bapyrws, neu beth bynnag, a dw i’n gallu datgan yn bendant mod i’n gw’bod dyw hi ddim wedi’i sgrifennu yn el-Rābyah, na K'swākhilí, na Heladeg.

 

Ar ôl yr holl waith caled na (yr ystyried, nage’r peth arall!), fe weddodd Ffred wrtha i taw Asa o ogledd Ganzibia yw’r iaith. Wel tipyn o arbenigwr mewn ieithoedd estron dw i, fel mae’n digwydd, a dw i hyd yn oed yn well gyda dyfeisio straeon. Ac fe fydd unrhyw beth yn well na neud y gwaith cartre diflas i’r hen gythraul drewllyd na yn ôl yn yr ysgol. O, cymaint dw i’n casáu’r dosbarthiadau rhofoleg uffernol na, w! Ac fe fydda i’n ennill ugain punt os galla i berswadio Ffredi-boi bod popeth yn gywir. Felly, darllenwch ymlaen, ffrindiau, i glywed hanes gwarthus y Mwncïod Cochion Hwyliog! (Gyda llaw, ro’n i’n anghywir am y manylion, a’r teitl, i ddechrau) —

 

"Unwaith, ddim yn hir yn ôl, ddim yn bell oddi yma, ar Ynys Sanjibaar, roedd grŵp bach bach o fwncïod cochion, Procolobus kirkii a bod yn fanwl gywir. Ro’n nhw mewn perygl mawr o ddiflannu oddi ar wyneb y Ddaear gron hon, er eu bod yn byw yno fel un teulu gweddol hapus mewn ffordd o siarad, gyda mam a thad, Mag a Jog, merch, Eg, dau ffrind, Steg a Dag, a thad-cu hefyd, Ig (ond fe fydden nhw i gyd yn dweud ‘Wncwl Ig’ jyst i ddrysu pethau), ond do’n nhw ddim yn perthyn at ei gilydd fel mewn teulu go iawn a dweud y gwir. Un o’r bechgyn oedd yn lico’r merch, a hi oedd yn ffansïo’r crwt arall, a’r trydydd llanc ‘ma oedd yn dwlu ar y bachgen cynta’. Ro’n nhw i gyd wastad yn chwarae castiau, achos taw mwncïod hwyliog o’n nhw heb os. Chi’n gwybod sut greaduriaid yw’r rhain, on’d dych chi?

 

"Yn yr hen ddyddiau, roedd ‘na gyflenwad toreithiog o gnau coco ar gyfer y mwncïod, oedd yn beth da, achos bod pawb yn meddwl eu bod nhw’n eithriadol o flasus, ac iachus hefyd. Ac ar ben hynny, doedd neb yn hoff iawn o fangrofau, ac mewn gwirionedd, roedd y ffrwythau ‘ma’n codi pwys arnyn nhw; falle bod nhw’n alergaidd iddyn nhw. Pwy allai ddweud, ‘sdim meddygon i ofalu am fwncïod, hyd yn oed rhai ciwt, clyfar, a diddorol, peidiwch chi â bod mor dwp!

 

"Ond aeth y ffermwyr ar yr ynys mor grac o weld eu cefndyr coedwigol yn gwledda ar eu cnydau, fe fydden nhw’n saethu ar antur ar y creaduriaid annwyl drwy gydol y dydd. Ond heini ac ystwyth oedd y bwbachod, a ddihangai’n rhwydd, ac felly roedd ar y ffermwyr angen codi muriau enfawr o gwmpas y palmwydd ac arnyn nhw weiren rasel, i gadw’r lladron ewn mas.

 

"A dyna oedd yn peri penbleth mawr, a dweud y lleia’, i arwyr ein hanes ni, oedd yn dechrau newynu. Dyna oedd y dynion yn cweryla drwy’r amser ynghylch sut i ddod o hyd i ddigon o gnau coco. Fe fyddai un ohonyn nhw’n astudio’n astud yn y llyfrgelloedd prin, y tafarnau dibrin, a’r tai ciando croesawgar ar y tir mawr yng ngogledd Ganzibia wrth i’r llall fynd bant i frwydro neu ddwyn pethau, neu i werthu sbeisys sbesial i fodau dynol gwirion dros y môr, a arferai eu rhoi nhw lan eu trwynau gan amlaf, fel petai’n rhyw fath o snisin dieithr, egsotig, ac afresymol o ddrud.

 

"Tra oedd y brwydro a’r fusnes cludo sbeis yn braf a phroffidiol iawn i dad-cu (o’r enw Wncwl Ig, wrth gwrs), dim ond yr hen iaith Asa ro’n nhw’n siarad yn y sefydliadau addysg uwch wedi’u crybwyll o’r blaen. Ac roedd yr iaith honno, gan gynnwys ond ychydig eiriau roedd yr henuriaid yn arfer eu defnyddio amser maith yn ôl, ar farw. Oherwydd hynny, lwyddodd y tad ddim i ddysgu dim byd, ac eithrio, efallai, y ddihareb: “Ilat ‘ore’ek buxurita ga, ma’a wataka rakash, wat dah hajat, ‘agim yataa kite” – “Pan fydd y llygad pell wedi llosgi’r cymylau, nes y sychir y dŵr oll, wedyn crafu’r Ddaear fel cŵn a wnawn ni, i fwyta ac yfed cyn marw.” Ond eto i gyd, doedd e ddim yn sicr o gwbl.

 

"Pechod adrodd nad oedd popeth yn fêl ac yn fefus yn llwyni’r Baradwys Ddaearol, chwaith. Tra oedd dynion y nyth oddi cartre’, fe fyddai’r fam yn rhedeg bant gyda ffrind blewog arall oedd wedi bod yn gyfaill i un o’r gwŷr – i gael tipyn o hwyl a chysur yn ystod y nosweithiau hir, unig, ddylem ni ddweud? Ac wrth gwrs dyna oedd yn broblem enfawr i bawb pan ddaeth y misdimanars i gyd i’r fei o’r diwedd. Ni wyddai neb a fydden nhw’n mynd ai’n dod. Yn wir, aeth yr holl sefyllfa’n ffrwydrol yn y pen draw.

 

"Nawr, wrth i’r llanc mwya’ dorri cartŵns ar risgl y coed o gwmpas y lle, roedd y ferch yn brysur brysur yn neud pwy a ŵyr beth. Fe fyddai hi’n brasgamu ar hyd ac ar led yn y fforest gan adrodd barddoniaeth. Wrth gwrs fe fyddai mam yn achub y cyfle ‘ma i din-droi lan coed rhyw fwnci arall, gan fwynhau sgyrsiau hyfryd yn lle neud y gwaith tŷ (dyna oedd swydd i’r dynion, meddai hi). Ond nage Mag yn unig oedd yn manteisio ar y rhyddid, ond Eg hefyd, a fyddai’n diflannu’n aml gydag un o’r bois i Fan-di-nam, ar wahân i’r amser pan aeth hi unwaith ar ei phen ei hunan am wythnos gron.

 

"Fel mae'n digwydd yn aml mewn sefyllfaoedd fel hyn, roedd rhaid i’r crwt lleia’ ddatrys y broblem, ennill y wobr, a goresgyn yr anawsterau. Tra byddai’r gweddill yn gwastraffu amser drudfawr, fe âi fe mas ymhlith trigolion y goedwig gan chwilio am atebion. Y mwnci a gerddo a gaiff, oedd ei arwyddair. Ac ym Man-di-nam, fe lwyddodd yr un mwnci clyfar ‘na i ddysgu gan ryw hen wraig hysbys frodorol o’r enw El-en Tw-wr, gyfrinach neu ddwy ar sut i ffermio’r cnau coco gorau erioed i’w gweld yr ochr ‘ma i Ddyffryn Sintu, gan ddefnyddio gwyrthiau technolegol wedi’u cyflwyno gan lwyth o swynwyr arallfydol yn ôl pob sôn.

 

"Sa i’n gallu sôn amdani yma mwyach ar boen ‘y mywyd, ond digon dweud fe gaeth e rysáit symla’r byd yn esbonio sut i dyfu’r cnau coco mwya’, blasua’, caleta’, melysa’, a mwya’ blewog, yn rhad ac am ddim, drwy ddefnyddio dim ond sylweddau hollol naturiol ac adnewyddadwy, oedd ar gael i bob mwnci iach ar alwad, mwy neu lai! (Fydda i ddim yn gollwng y sarff o’r fagl ymlusgiad os datgela i fod angen i’n teulu hapus o brimatiaid ni fwyta llawer iawn o gnau coco, ac wedyn aros am sbel, cyn i’r hud biolegol ddechrau gweithio.) Ac wedyn fe gaeth yr anifail cyfrwys syniad, a llunio cynllun.

 

"Fe barablai’r mwnci goleuedig ‘na’n huawdl am beth oedd e wedi’i ddarganfod, a gadawyd gan y ffermwyr i’r teulu bach ddod i mewn i’r lle caeedig yn gyfreithlon am y tro cynta’ i’w helpu nhw i foderneiddio’r proses cynhyrchu. Fe fydden nhw’n darparu gwasanaethau o bob math o amgylch y gweithfeydd newydd wrth allu llowcio cymaint o’r cynnyrch ag a fynnen nhw. Ac yr oedd y sgîl-effeithiau’n hawdd eu rhagweld, o un safbwynt, ac eithriadol o werthfawr hefyd, ond nage yn y ffordd a fwriadwyd o bersbectif arall.

 

"Gyda llwyddiant enfawr y dull newydd o ffrwythloni, roedd rhaid i’r gweithwyr blewog lafurio’n galetach galetach, ond do’n nhw ddim yn cael eu talu digon o’r cynnyrch blasus achos bod yr amaethwyr llechwraidd yn debyg i gribinwyr crebachlyd. Ac ymhellach ‘naethon nhw drin y gweision druan fel y naethai’r Hen Frenhinoedd drin ei bobl filenia yn ôl. Doedd ‘na ddim digon o amser sbâr i orwedd mewn hamog ‘chwaith gan chwarae bili-ffŵl ac yfed jin a thonic. Felly ro’n nhw’n mynd yn flinedig ofnadw’ a achosai iddyn nhw ollwng hanner y cnau coco, fyddai’n torri’n yfflon. Wrth gwrs, fel y gwyddoch chi, gobeithio, fe fydd y palmwydd yn tyfu i fod tua 30 medr o daldra, felly pan gwympai’r cnau enfawr i lawr ar bennau’r gweithwyr dynol diog isod, dyna oedd dwy siort o gnau’n cael eu torri!

 

"Roedd ‘na ganlyniadau annisgwyl eraill hefyd. Gan na allai’r mwncïod fwyta llawer o achos diffyg amser ac awydd, cymaint oedd eu blinder, do’n nhw ddim yn cynhyrchu digon o wrtaith organig a dyna gâi effaith wael ar y cnydau’n ddigon buan. Ymhellach, roedd tensiynau rhwng aelodau’r criw blewog yn cynyddu, o ganlyniad i’r casgliad hwn o amgylchiadau gofidus, gyda’r un yn ymosod ar y lleill gan ddefnyddio geiriau anfoesgar, a dyrnau, a dannedd miniog, a chnau coco wedi’u taflu. Hyd yn oed yn waeth oedd pan sylweddolodd pawb fod mam wedi bod yn gwerthu sbeis syfrdanol ar y slei heb yn wybod i neb.

 

"Un dydd poeth a chreulon pan oedd pawb wedi bod wrthi’n gweithio heb stop ers oriau, roedd y mwnci ieuenga’n seibio lan yn y to am funud i gael mwgyn bach o ddail banana sych, a joch o’r wisgi Kimbrig gorau ("Hunllef Fyw" o'r Ynys Fud) pan adawodd i’r sigarét syrthio i lawr y ffatri. Wel, roedd y lle’n llawn dop o wrtaith mwnci, a blawd llif, a chnau coco wedi’u stacio, a sbwriel, a phetrol wedi’i ollwng o’r generadur hynafol, a phethau fel ‘na. 'Does dim rhaid dweud, ffrwydrodd yr adeilad ar unwaith a phopeth ynddo hefyd, yn cynnwys y mwncïod i gyd, siŵr o fod, mewn fflach lachar a chawod o gnau coco drylliedig.

 

"Ond nid dyna ben ar ein stori rybuddiol ni. Wrth i’r tîm o lafurwyr gorfodol fwyta’r coconyts anaeddfed, ro’n nhw’n creu mwy o le i’r planhigion eraill a adawyd ar ôl dyfu’n gryf ynddo. Ar ôl y ffrwydrad a wasgarodd dom ar hyd y lle, aeth y tyfiant yn wyllt am sbel ond o’r diwedd roedd y tir yn orchuddiedig, a dyna a ddifethai’r cnwd yn llwyr o hynny ymlaen. Achos taw atyniad twristiaid pwysig oedd y Mwncïod Cochion Hwyliog, ar ôl eu tranc, yn fuan y diflannodd y fasnach ymweld oddi ar yr ynys hefyd.

 

"Ac wrth gwrs, dyma darddiad y dywediad byd-enwog, ‘Oni thelwch i fwnci ei gyflog cymwys, dim ond cnau wedi’u torri a gewch.’ Er gwaetha’r ffaith bod y chwedl hon yn dod atoch chi, ble bynnag y boch, o Berfeddion Faraqand Dywyll (wel, o ynys oddi ar ei harfordir dwyreiniol), pwysig iawn i chi i gyd ddwyn y neges ‘ma mewn cof bob amser, hefyd, on’d ife, bobol annwyl? Ac, i orffen, on’d dych chi eisiau gofyn – beth am y mwnci bach, mab i Eg a Dag (falle), impyn llinell y Cochion, oedd yn cael ei fagu ym Man-di-nam gan El-en? A, ond rhy hwyr ydych chi erbyn hyn, ffrindiau chwilfrydig. Rhaid i chi aros i weld.”