The moon was a silver coin tossed into the velvet sky above the village of Kyekyewere. Old Man Mensah sat by the fire, his skin looking like polished mahogany in the dancing flames.
"Grandfather," a young boy asked, "why does the Spider hide in the corners of our ceilings?"
Mensah chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering on stone. "Because, My Son, Kwaku Ananse once tried to own the world's silence. You see, back when the Earth was young, Ananse grew tired of the village gossip. He decided he would collect every secret, every whisper, and every proverb, and keep them in a hollow gourd."
Ananse spent moons crawling into keyholes and hiding under floorboards. He caught the secret of the blacksmith's strength and the hidden location of the Chief's buried gold. He stuffed them all into his gourd, corking it tight with a corn cob. He intended to climb to the very top of the Silk Cotton tree and hide it where no one could reach.
But as he climbed, the gourd swung against his belly. It was heavy-not with weight, but with the burden of knowing too much. Halfway up, he slipped. The gourd shattered against a protruding root.
The secrets didn't fall; they exploded. They turned into the morning mist that clings to the trees and the echoes that bounce off the mountains. Ananse, terrified that the villagers would hear their own secrets returning to them, scurried into the darkest corner of the nearest hut.
"And there he stays," Mensah whispered, "still trying to catch the whispers he let go. That is why we speak the truth in the light, for the Spider is always listening in the shadows."
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WATT GHANA ANTHOLOGIES
General FictionStories Of Ghana, From Ghana, By Ghana A collection of prose and poetry from Ghanaian writers and storytellers; ☆ A Ghanaian Christmas ☆ A Ghanaian Love Story ☆ A Ghanaian Woman's Tale ☆ A Ghanaian Folklore Check out our Substack @WattpadGhana
