How the Mantis Stole the Moonlight

Listen, children of the desert wind, listen well to this tale of long ago, when the world was young and the spirits walked freely between the red earth and the star-scattered sky!

In those ancient days when the baobab trees were saplings and the Namib sands were still learning their endless dance, there was no moonlight to guide night hunters nor comfort sleeping children.

The sun blazed fierce and proud during the day, casting sharp shadows on the red earth, but when evening came, darkness fell over the world like a heavy kaross (sheepskin cloak).

Old Mantis, that cunning one with his swiveling eyes and praying hands, saw how the people stumbled in the darkness.

He saw how the mothers could not gather the sweet tsamma melons by night, how the hunters returning with their catch lost their way, how the children whimpered when the black hours came.

And Old Mantis, that scheming one, he said to himself: "This will not do. This will not do at all."

Now listen carefully, for this is where the magic begins… Far, far above the camelthorn trees, beyond even where the secretary birds build their nests, the Moon Maiden danced in her celestial hut.

She was beautiful, that one, beautiful as the first rain after a long drought, with silver light flowing from her like fresh, cool water from a desert spring.

But selfish! So selfish she was! She kept all her precious moonlight locked away in a great calabash, never sharing it with anyone down below.

The ancestral spirits, those wise ones who walked upon the clouds, had tried many times to convince the Moon Maiden: "Share your light," they whispered on the wind.

"Share it with the earth children below." But the Moon Maiden just danced and laughed and said, "No, no, no! My light is too precious to waste on the lowly earth dwellers."

Old Mantis heard these whispers, for Mantis, that cunning one, knows all the languages of the wind. He tilted his triangular head this way and that way, listening, listening, and conjured up a plan….

Old Mantis called out, "Jackal, my swift-footed brother, I need your dancing eyes, your handsome coat and most of all… your silver tongue."

Jackal came trotting across the red earth, his pointed ears pricked forward. "What mischief are you planning now, Old Mantis? Your schemes always mean trouble for someone."

"No trouble, no trouble at all," said Mantis, though his swiveling eyes gleamed with mischief. "Just a little borrowing, a little sharing of what should belong to all."

Now they conspired, those two tricksters: Jackal would climb the World Tree, that mighty tree whose roots drink from the underground rivers and whose branches touch the sky-country.

He would charm the Moon Maiden with his dancing eyes, handsome coat and silver tongue, while Mantis would hide and wait for just the right moment.

Up, up, up climbed Jackal, above the weaver birds' nests, higher than the tallest giraffe could reach, past even where the clouds gather their rain and craft their lightning.

The Moon Maiden saw him coming, this handsome and fashionable visitor with his bushy tail and knowing eyes. "Beautiful Moon Maiden," called Jackal in his sweetest voice,

"I have come to court you with songs of the earth below. Let me sing you the song of the springbok's joyful pronking; the song of the gemsbok's evening march across the rust-red dunes."

The Moon Maiden, lonely in her high kraal, was charmed by this silver-tongued visitor. She set down her precious calabash and listened to Jackal's earth-songs.

And while she listened... quick as lightning, quiet as shadow, Old Mantis crept forward on his stick-thin legs!

But even the cleverest plans can twist like the desert wind… as Mantis reached for the calabash, big-eyed Ostrich, who sees all but understands little, came running across the sky-plains.

"Thief! Thief!" cried Ostrich in her loud, foolish voice. "The earth-crawler steals the moon-treasure!" The Moon Maiden whirled around, her silver light flashing angry-bright.

She saw Mantis there with his grasping hands near her precious calabash. In her rage, she kicked the calabash high into the sky, and it shattered into a thousand pieces!

The light scattered like silver seeds across the dark sky. Some fell to earth and became the glowing eyes of the night creatures. Other pieces stayed in the sky and became the stars.

The largest piece began to dance across the night sky, waxing fat like a rain-filled waterhole, narrowing like a drought-starved stream, then disappearing altogether before beginning the dance again.

The Moon Maiden wept silver tears. "See what your greed has done," she cried to Old Mantis. "My beautiful light is broken forever!"

But Old Mantis, wise and thoughtful, looked up at the scattered starlight and the dancing moon-piece, and he smiled his knowing smile.

"Not broken, Moon Maiden. Shared. Now the night hunters can find their way home. Now the mothers can gather melons in the gentle light. Now the children need not fear the darkness."

The ancestral spirits, watching from their spirit-places, nodded their ancient heads. This was how it should be: not hoarded by one, but shared among all.

Even the Moon Maiden, after her tears dried, came to see the beauty in the scattered light, the wisdom in sharing.

But... there was a price for this trickery, oh children of the desert! The Moon Maiden, still angry and sorrowful, cursed Old Mantis...

"You who would scheme and steal, shall grow no bigger than a twig, and the wind shall blow you where it will. And when you grow old, you shall shed your skin and begin again, remembering this night."

And so it is, even today. The mantis remains small, blown by the desert winds, shedding his skin to begin anew.

But every night, when we see the moon dancing across the star-scattered sky, we remember his gift to us: the gift of shared light, the gift of gentle nighttime radiance.

Jackal, for his part in the scheme, was given the gift of the silver tongue forever, but along with it came the curse of never being trusted.

And Ostrich? Poor, foolish Ostrich who spoiled Mantis’s plan was condemned to run forever across the earth, too heavy to fly, her big eyes always watching but never knowing the truth of what she sees.

(adapted from the original by Aimiton Precious via Folktales Africa)

(images via Folktales Africa, Dreamstime, and Stockcake)