Anansi and the Sky God

Part One · The Golden Box

Long ago, in the villages of West Africa, there were no stories at all. Nobody told tales by the fire at night, and the evenings were so quiet that you could hear a yawn from three houses away. Every story in the world belonged to Nyame, the Sky God, who kept them locked inside a golden box beside his throne. He guarded that box like a dragon guards its gold, because he believed a story was far too precious to be shared around like bread.

Anansi the spider lived in a small house at the edge of the forest. He was tiny and not especially strong, but he was extraordinarily clever, and he was also extraordinarily nosy, which is a dangerous combination. One evening he sat on his web, looking out at the silent, empty darkness, and he said to himself, "The people are bored to pieces. I will climb up to the sky and buy those stories for them." Then he added, because he was Anansi, "And I will get all the credit."

So Anansi spun a long silver thread and climbed it into the clouds, higher and higher, all day and into the night. His legs ached, all eight of them. At last he reached the enormous house of Nyame, which glowed like a sunrise, and he bowed so politely that his nose touched the doormat. "Great Sky God," he said, "I have come to buy your stories. Name your price, and I promise to pay it."

Nyame laughed so loudly that the clouds shook and a few small birds fell off them. "Little spider, hundreds have asked, and nobody has ever paid. My price is far too high for you. Bring me Onini the python, Osebo the leopard, and the Mmoboro hornets. Bring me all three, and the stories are yours." The Sky God felt certain that this would end the matter, because what kind of spider could possibly catch three such terrible creatures?

Part Two · Three Impossible Things

Anansi only bowed again. "It will be done," he said, and he slid down his thread whistling a cheerful tune. Inside, his knees were knocking together like two little drums, because he was terrified. But he was also thinking hard, and a thinking spider is a busy spider. By the time his feet touched the forest floor, he had a plan for the first creature. It involved one long palm branch, one very proud snake, and a great deal of silly arguing.

Onini the python lay stretched out beside the river, as thick as a tree trunk and half asleep. Anansi crept up behind a rock and began to quarrel with himself, in a voice loud enough to wake a mountain. "He is longer!" cried Anansi. "No, he is shorter!" he answered, in a different voice. "He is longer!" "Shorter!" The python lifted his great head and hissed, and the whole riverbank went silent, except for one spider who was pretending to be two spiders.

"Oh, it is nothing," said Anansi, stepping out and wiping his forehead. "My wife says you are shorter than this palm branch. I told her she was being ridiculous, but perhaps she knows best." Onini was deeply insulted. "Shorter?" he hissed. "Fetch that branch, little fool, and I will lie beside it so that you can see." Anansi laid the branch on the ground, and the python stretched out along it, quivering with pride, while the spider kept a perfectly straight face.

"Hmm," said Anansi, shaking his head. "Your head is on the mark, but your tail keeps curling. It is hard to measure a snake who will not hold still. Let me tie you straight, so the measuring is fair." Proud Onini agreed, because a proud snake will agree to nearly anything that makes him look long. Anansi wound his silk around the python and the branch, round and round and tighter and tighter. By the time Onini understood, he was wrapped up like a very long birthday present.

Anansi dragged the grumbling python up the silver thread and delivered him to Nyame, who was eating a late breakfast. The Sky God choked on a banana. "That is one," he said, in a small voice. "Now bring me Osebo the leopard, whose teeth are as sharp as thorns." Anansi bowed, and he slid back down, and this time he did not feel so cheerful, because leopards do not care how clever you are. They only care how fast you are.

Part Three · The Price Is Paid

He dug a deep hole in the middle of the leopard's favorite path and covered it with leaves and sticks. Then he hid behind a bush and waited, with his legs crossed in six places. He did not have to wait long. Osebo came padding down the path, huge and golden and silent, and Anansi held his breath so hard that his eyes bulged. The leopard took one step, then another, and the ground simply vanished beneath his paws.

With a crash and a startled roar, Osebo tumbled into the pit. "Help!" he growled. "Whoever dug this hole, I will eat you!" Anansi peeked over the edge, looking terribly worried, and his voice shook, which was not an act. "Dear Osebo, how awful! Hold still, and I will bend down a tall young tree for you. Grab on, and when I let it go, it will spring you right out." The leopard was too angry and too embarrassed to ask any sensible questions.

Anansi bent the sapling over the pit, and while Osebo was busy grumbling his thanks, the spider tied the leopard's paws to it with a long silk rope. Then he cut the rope. The sapling sprang upward with a WHOOP, and up went Osebo, higher than the treetops and higher than the birds. He ended up dangling in front of Nyame's window, tied up like a parcel and completely unable to bite anybody. "Good morning," said Osebo, very quietly.

"Two," said Nyame, and his voice was not so loud this time. "Now the Mmoboro hornets. They sting like fire, little spider, and there are thousands of them." Anansi found their nest hanging in a tall tree, humming like a kettle about to boil. His legs wobbled. One hornet buzzed out to look at him, as big as his head, and then came a whole angry cloud. Anansi gulped. He had run out of cleverness.

Then he had an idea. He grabbed an empty gourd, which is a hard-shelled fruit like a bottle, and held it up. He poured a little water over his own head so he looked as soaked as possible. "Friends!" he shouted. "A terrible storm is coming! Quick, before you are all drowned! Hide in my gourd, where it is dry!" He splashed more water on the nest, and it dripped like a storm. The hornets were so frightened of the rain that they poured into the gourd like a buzzing waterfall, and Anansi slammed the lid on tight.

Back up the silver thread he went, carrying a gourd that hummed and shook in his arms. He set it down before the Sky God, right beside the python and the leopard, who were tied up and glaring at each other. Nyame stared at the three of them for a very long time. Then he began to smile, and then he began to laugh. "Anansi, you are the smallest creature who has ever stood in my house, and also the cleverest. Take the stories. I will never ask for them back."

Anansi carried the golden box down to the world and opened it in the village. The stories flew out like birds and landed in every house. The very first one fluttered onto Anansi's shoulder and began to whisper in his ear. It was the story of a tiny spider who tricked a snake, a leopard, and a swarm of hornets, and Anansi blushed from his eight feet to his eight eyes. He had never been so proud. That is why, to this day, we call them spider stories.