The Woman Who Longed for Fish

The Woman Who Longed for Fish

Long ago, near a river in Angola, there lived a man named Kimalausu Kia Tumb’a Ndala with his wife. They were expecting a child, and one day his wife said, “I do not know what has come over me. I do not want meat or ordinary soup. All I can think about is fish—fresh fish, just caught from the river.” Her husband smiled. “If you want fish, I will catch fish.” He took his nets and went to the river. He returned with a catch. The next day he went again, and then again, and again. But after a while, hardly any fish could be seen near their village. It was as though they had all gone farther away, where the water was deeper and quieter. Kimalausu sat beside the house and thought. “I shall have to go to another river,” he said. “Perhaps I will have better luck there.” His wife prepared food for his journey, filled a vessel with water, and wished him a safe road. He reached the new place at dusk. He made a small fire, rested beneath a tree, and in the morning took up his nets and walked down to the water. The first time he cast them, they came up empty. The second time, there was nothing again. “Come now, river,” Kimalausu said softly. “Is there not a single fish here for us?” He cast the nets a third time. This time they became so heavy that he had to grip the rope with both hands. He was about to pull when a voice rose from beneath the water. “Do not hurry. Wait a little.” Kimalausu stood still. He looked to the right. No one was there. He looked to the left. Only the reeds were whispering. “Who said that?” The water lapped quietly at the shore. A moment later, the voice spoke again. “Now pull.” Kimalausu drew in the nets and found a single fish. But what a fish it was! It was large and silver, and its scales shone as though each held a drop of morning sunlight. “What a catch,” he said in wonder. He placed the fish in his basket and set off for home. On the way, he several times thought he heard someone rustling behind him through the wet grass. Whenever he turned, he saw only the distant glimmer of water and blades of grass moving in the wind. When Kimalausu came near the village, the children spotted him. They ran to meet him, followed by the neighbours, and last of all his wife hurried from the house. “Did you catch one?” she called happily. “I did,” said the man, though he looked warily at the fish. “But it is a strange fish, and I caught it in a strange way.” His wife laughed. “A fish is a fish. The important thing is that it is fresh.” She began to prepare it for supper. But as soon as she touched the scales, a soft, singing voice came from the fish. “If you are going to handle me, do everything carefully.” The woman drew back her hand. The neighbours heard the voice too and looked at one another. “Perhaps we should not cook it,” said Kimalausu. “Let us take it back to the river.” “I have waited so many days for fish,” his wife said. “No. I have made up my mind.” She began again. Once more the voice spoke. “Be careful.” Even the bravest neighbours stepped back this time. When the meal was ready, the woman invited everyone to eat. “Eat with me.” Kimalausu shook his head. “I will not. I do not like that the fish spoke to us.” The neighbours refused as well. “Then I shall eat it myself,” said the woman. She ate and, at first, felt quite well. After a while, evening began to fall. The children went home, and the neighbours said goodnight. The woman sat by the door with her hands on her stomach, when suddenly she heard the familiar voice from inside her. “Now tell me: which way shall I go back to the river?” Her eyes widened. “Kimalausu… did you hear that?” “I heard it,” he said quietly. The voice asked again, “Which way shall I go out?” The woman was frightened and confused. “I do not know. Choose for yourself.” At once the house grew cool, as though a river wind had blown through an open window. Dishes on the shelf gave a faint chime. Somewhere close by came the sound of splashing water, though the river was far away. The woman cried out and bent over, for inside her everything seemed to spin like a little whirlpool. “Hold on to me,” said Kimalausu. He helped her onto a mat and called the neighbours. Suddenly a silver light flashed above a bowl of water. From it leapt a small shining fish, no larger than a hand. It hovered in the air for one moment and said, “When the river gives a warning, it is wise to listen.” Then the little fish flicked its tail against the rim of the bowl, turned into a silver drop, and vanished. The house fell quiet. The woman took a deep breath. The pain passed as suddenly as it had begun. Kimalausu brought her water. “Well?” he asked gently. “Next time a fish speaks, shall we take it back?” His wife gave a tired smile. “Next time, I will listen after the very first word.” For several days she rested, ate simple food, and no longer asked her husband to catch fish every day. Kimalausu understood something important too: even when we dearly want to please someone we love, we must not take more from the river than it can give. In time, fish returned to the water near the village. But now people caught only what they needed for one day, and no more. And when the river splashed strangely in the reeds at evening, the elders smiled and told the children, “Do you hear it? The water is reminding us that a wish can be very strong, but wisdom begins when we know how to stop in time and listen.”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨