THE MASTER WEAVER

THE MASTER

  WEAVER

  tetteh j. zutah

  The animal kingdom needs to outdoor its princess; she must wear a new smock, but they need Ananse—the banished weaver....

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or other means now known or hereafter invented, without the prior written permission of the Author.

 

  © Copyright 2014, Tetteh J. Zutah

  tjzpojoba@gmail.com

  +233 (0)263 933 920

  A BrainzUnlimited® creation

  NB: BrainzUnlimited and the Brains shield are trademarks of Tetteh J. Zutah.

  The following characters and settings are fictitious. Semblance to anyone or place bearing the same name or names is sincerely regretted. All incidents are absolute inventions.

  To my critics...

 

  The jungle was never quiet until now. Something indeed was missing. The frog had lost her croak, and the cawing birds seemed to have migrated. In the still of the night, the troubled animals were very much awake, each of them, yet none would come out to dance to the melodious tunes of the skilful snake. There was certainly no need for merrymaking. Before full moon, the princess of the animal kingdom had to be decorated. Nobody had thought that the cub would become a lioness so soon. The lion king feared for his kingdom, yet the wise old monkey could only pray that Odomankoma, the supreme god, would grant them rain in the forthcoming days. There was no grain of joy anywhere; the jungle was drying up and the water creatures were near petrified.

  Bored and wondering what may have happened, the young snake glided to his father: “I have noticed that nobody comes around these days when you play. Is there a problem?”

  Onini looked at his son, in that same worried countenance; “A smock is needed to drape the young lioness on the occasion of her initiation into adulthood. But there is a problem. Each time, when one from the mighty family has to be initiated, the weaver of the initiation smock must be a master weaver,” he woefully hissed.

  “But why, father? Doesn’t the weaverbird make all the initiation smocks?” the young reptile hissed.

  “Yes, she does, but not for the king’s family,” Onini hissed back. “We cannot defy tradition. The spider must make the initiation smock for the mighty family.”

  Immediately, the young snake knew what the problem was. Although he didn’t know the full story, he knew that Ananse was nowhere near the kingdom. There were many rumours of his disappearance, but he wasn’t sure whether or not they were true. He thought to ask his father, but then he paused and wriggled back to rest; the old serpent was in a sour mood and he didn’t want to be a bother to his father.

  “Gong! Gong! Gong!” the gong chimed incessantly so early in the morn, triggering hums from every distance. Everyone knew it was Ako, the parrot. He carried a message from the king. It was obvious to everyone what the subject matter was, yet they needed to hear from his own mouth.

  Ako was the linguist, but all the animals preferred to call him the Chatterer. Yet he cared less about that, for it was in his nature to talk. He would quickly report anything anyone said. He had the gift of memory. But right beside this precious gift was the impulsive instinct of openness—it was also in his nature to tell. He never kept quiet, and so he never kept secrets. Many a time the animals would try to buy his silence with fresh wild grain. But this would only keep his beak shut for a few days, for it wasn’t long before something pricked him to cough out the secret behind those grains. In spite of his much-hated sense of disclosure, he was adored for one thing—his dazzling, colourful feathers—he was gorgeous.

  “Let the jungle hear this!” Ako began. “I bring you greetings from the mighty lion. The king sends for all his subjects. All must assemble under the great sapele tree at sunset. Absentees will be fined! Thank you,” the parrot rested.

  Silence still held the jungle. The meeting was very much anticipated. At last, they would be able to discuss openly the one issue that had stolen the joy in the jungle. As the voice of the Chatterer faded away, the jungle returned to stillness.

  The gentle sun smiled on as the great sapele tree gradually massed up with every animal in the jungle. The mighty lion stood at the foot of the great tree. Nyansani, the wise old monkey stood on his right side. On his other side stood the young lioness. One after the other, the animals bowed before Osebo. With his brown fur, shaggy mane, prominent jaws, and overly sharp claws, he appeared to be in the perfect form to rule the animal kingdom. But lost in his demeanour was the gentle smile he wore anytime he summoned the jungle. He was affable, and the entire kingdom looked to him; but there was a problem this time and the animals couldn’t wait to share their woes.

  “Agooo!” the linguist chanted.

  “Ameee!” chorused everyone, in response.

  Osebo, the Mighty Lion greets you, Ako said.

  “We greet him, too,” a joey cried from his mother’s pouch.

  “Thank you, young skipper,” said Ako. “It is not I, but Osebo, who has called you. He seeks to discuss a very important issue with you. Please, welcome the king!”

  “Long live the Mighty King!” all the animals chorused.

  “Thank you,” Osebo finally spoke. “As you all know, the cub is now a lioness and must be initiated. I summoned you all because you may have heard what happened between my father and the spider.”

  “No, we haven’t!” the joey cried again.

  “Put your baby to order! Ako retorted.

  “Now for those who did not know the story, let me inform you. Ananse was spinning yarn one evening when my wandering elder brother appeared from nowhere. Enticed by the artistry, he headed closer to have a look. I cannot tell how it happened but we later found my brother strangled to death by a long strand of yarn. I’m sure you all know what happened afterward. I don’t have to remind you that the spider was banished from the jungle.”

  The forest was getting darker. For some time none said a word. They waited for the king to rest his speech.

  “Nyansani, the wise monkey, has suggested that I make peace with the spider. I have called all of you to discuss the merits of this issue,” Osebo rested.

  “You heard the king,” said the parrot. “What have you to say?”

  “I beg to ask,” said the owl, “why is the king asking us now? Should we wait for problems to grow before we find solutions!”

  “Easy!” said the tortoise, “this is not the time to throw tantrums. We have a problem to solve.”

  “Thank you,” the fox said. “And what do you think, Akyekyedie?”

  “If I recall very well, the king just said that he cannot tell what actually caused the strangling of his brother. If this is true, then the spider may have been banished without proper cause. I think I support peace with Ananse,” the tortoise said.

  “Who else?” said the parrot.

  “We want peace! We want peace!” all the animals chorused.

  “But who will go and make that peace? The spider travelled very far away,” said the fox.

  “Let’s send Nyansani and Akyekyedie. I’m sure Ananse will consider their wisdom and listen to them,” the snake hissed.

  “But the wise monkey and the tortoise are not endowed with speed; we need the hare to carry them,” the frog croaked. “And most importantly, we need to know where to start looking; I’m sure this is the eagles job,” she added.

  “I thank you all for your contributions,” roared the lion king. “This tells me that with unity there is nothing we cannot achieve. I loved by brother dearly, and I respect the memory of my late father, but I grieve that out of anger he could not forgive and let things go. Ev
en so, I grieve more because I didn’t see the need for peace with the weaver until now.”

  “It is true, my king,” said the monkey. “You have achieved order in this jungle in your days so far, as king, but certainly this will be counted against you.”

  “I think I know which direction he went,” said the eagle. “I saw him leave when I was learning to fly.”

  “Where!” everyone chorused.

  “To the desert,” said the eagle.

  “To the desert we go then!” the hare said.

  The rising sun shone on Nyansani and Akyekyedie, riding rigorously on the back of the hare. They carried the king’s wooden standard and a box full of ornaments. Hours passed, and night was near come, but there was no sign of the desert.

  “How do we find the weaver?” said the tortoise. “We seem to get nowhere!”

  Just when the hare stopped to speak, the eagle appeared from above them.

  “Come on, friends! We’re just a few years away!”

  “What!” the hare retorted.

  “Just kidding! Come on, we’re almost there!”

  The old monkey sighed.

  “Hurry! Follow my lead! We have apologies to make!”