A Tale for Children
Under the shade of an orange tree, Àmọ̀pẹ́ played gleefully that morning. It was around ten o’clock. The sun had risen but had yet to blaze fiercely, and the wind whispered softly through the trees. The men had set off for their farms, the fishermen had paddled to the river, and the market women had journeyed to their stalls, seeking their daily bread. Only the children, Àmọ̀pẹ́ among them, remained behind, lost in the world of their innocent games.
Their little hands busied themselves with a playful feast, a clay pot of kúláàtàn soup before them. Black sand became their yam flour; red sand, the spicy stew. Smooth pebbles played the part of meat, carved twigs stood as fish, and darting grasshoppers were captured as crabs. They stirred the imaginary meal over a fireless stove, laughing as they took turns serving one another. Before long, their appetites for this pretend meal faded, and they set out to make another.
It was then that Àmọ̀pẹ́ was chosen to catch grasshoppers for the next feast. She ventured toward the grassy field where the insects flitted about in droves. But how could she pick just one? They danced in the air, shimmering like jewels. Her gaze settled on a particularly beautiful one, and though she hesitated to harm it, she longed to keep it, just as her grandfather kept his sacred dove. Yet, the moment she reached out, the grasshopper took flight, darting toward the bush.
Determined, Àmọ̀pẹ́ pursued it, weaving through the trees, her heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. The insect flitted deeper into the forest, and she followed, neither willing to surrender. At last, with a sudden, triumphant grasp, her fingers closed around the delicate wings. She had caught it! Her joy was sweet as honey. But before she could revel in her victory, her eyes caught sight of something even more dazzling, a butterfly, painted in the deepest reds and the softest golds, unlike any she had seen before.
Fascinated, Àmọ̀pẹ́ hunt and turned her attention to this new prize. She chased the butterfly as it danced through the trees, her feet flying over roots and fallen leaves. Deeper and deeper, she went, the butterfly leading her into the heart of the forest. Then, without warning, the creature fluttered into the silken web of a waiting spider. Àmọ̀pẹ́ seized her chance she reached out and captured not only the butterfly but also the grasshopper she still held.
Triumphant, she lifted her gaze and there, just beyond her reach, perched a white dove, the very likeness of her grandfather’s cherished bird. Surely, she must have it! Driven by this new longing, she pursued the dove, her feet swift as the wind. The bird, sensing her approach, took flight, leading her farther still, past the familiar trees, beyond the whispering streams, into a deeper, wilder part of the woods.
Back in the village, dusk had begun to settle. The farmers returned from their fields, the fishermen from the rivers, and the market women from their stalls. But where was Àmọ̀pẹ́? Her friends wept as they called her name, searching every corner of the village. Her mother, who should have taken her to the market that morning, now sat in sorrow, her heart gripped with fear.
Unaware of the growing alarm, Àmọ̀pẹ́ pressed on. The dove swooped low, then soared high, luring her through the dense forest. She did not realize how far she had wandered, how deep she had gone. Then, suddenly, the bird flew across a deep forest. Without thinking, Àmọ̀pẹ́ leaped forward, clutching at the empty air. She had no time to catch herself she was falling.
Àmọ̀pẹ́ kept chasing after the white dove without looking back. She had no idea how far she had wandered into the deep forest. Suddenly, the dove soared across a large cobweb, and as Àmọ̀pẹ́ lunged forward to grab it, she got caught in the web. She now held the grasshopper, the butterfly, and the dove in her hands. Just as she looked down, she spotted a baby hare dashing across her path. Excitedly, Àmọ̀pẹ́ declared that she would catch it too. She took off after the hare, chasing it beyond the great forest into a dense thicket. Then, all of a sudden, the baby hare darted straight into the hollow of a tree.
Fear gripped Àmọ̀pẹ́, and she wanted to turn back. But as she glanced behind her to retrace her steps, a menacing root sprang up, blocking her path. She turned forward, only to find another one in her way. She looked to her right and left and realized she was surrounded by these eerie roots. At that moment, Àmọ̀pẹ́ knew she was trapped. She understood she had fallen into great danger. Before she could think of an escape, the terrifying roots pulled her into the hollow tree and made her their captive.