Orisha

Once upon a time, there was a very sneaky monkey who desperately needed food. He decided to go try and trick his neighbor, Rabbit, into giving him a bite to eat. He arrived at her house with the most panicked look on his face.


"Rabbit!" he yelped, "a hundred purple groundhogs just came into my house and stole all of my food! My greens, my honey--everything!" 

But before he could finish, Rabbit slammed the door.


"I know you!" she screamed from the other side, "you're the one who asked for my carrots just a few days ago!"


So the monkey moved on to the spider's house. 


"Spider, Spider!" he called, "my wife just gave birth--to quadruplets! They're all so small and smiling. But they're hungry. Could you spare just a little bit--"


And then, Spider slammed the door.


"I gave you my lentils when your wife had quintuplets last week!" Spider yelled.


So the monkey went to visit Elephant. Elephant, who was at least one hundred years old, remembered every story in the history of the village. That must be why she's so big, Monkey thought, because she has to fit all those stories inside. In fact, in days that were especially hot, all the youngest animals would sit under the shade of her body, and listen to stories of how the world got to be the way it is. He arrived to find Elephant sleeping underneath an akee tree. He approached her slowly so as not to startle her.


"Elephant, Elephant," he whispered into her giant ear, "something has happened."
           "Did your food get stolen by purple groundhogs again?" she asked, not even bothering to open an eye.
"Well, no," Monkey said, a bit embarrassed, "my wife--"
           "Had sextuplets again this month?" she asked, again remaining almost completely motionless, save her enormous mouth.


Monkey was so filled with shame that he decided he might as well go home hungry. But just then, Elephant rolled over, stretched a little, and rose to her feet.


         "You're a creative storyteller, you know," she announced.


Monkey stopped muttering dirty words under his breath and turned around.


       "It's true!" she said. "But before you can be a truly great storyteller, you have to understand what stories mean. 
       "If you are the storyteller, you no longer just speak for yourself--you speak for the whole village. You don't tell stories just for you, or twist the stories to make them say only what you want. You must simply tell the story with no intentions, no need to take something in return for giving a great story. Tell the story as it is--no need for purple groundhogs or quintuplets. Just trust the people to see the real meaning, to see the consequences of the story. Trust them to make their own conclusions, and find their own truths." 


And with that, Elephant reached her trunk to the top of the tree, and plucked off a ripe akee just for Monkey.