Why the Moon and Stars Shine with the Sun’s Light

Why the Moon and Stars Shine with the Sun’s Light

Long ago, when the world was still young and the sky, people say, stood a little closer to the earth, Anansi lived with his son, Kweku Tsin.

One year, food became scarce. The fields were resting after the heat, fruit was hard to find in the forest, and people saved every little grain.

One morning Anansi said, “Let’s go into the forest. Perhaps we’ll be lucky and bring home something for supper.”

Kweku Tsin agreed. They walked along the paths for a long time, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. At last, they found enough food to last for several days.

“Wait here,” Anansi told his son. “I’ll go home for a big basket and be right back.”

Kweku Tsin sat beneath a tree and waited.

Some time passed.

“Father!” he called, thinking Anansi must be on his way back.

But a very different voice answered from the thicket:

“Who is calling me?”

Kweku Tsin froze.

Something rustled among the trees. A great fire-breathing monster appeared from behind the trunks. Its eyes glowed like two hot coals, and its heavy steps made the ground rumble.

Kweku Tsin ran to a little cave and hid inside. But the monster had extraordinarily sharp eyes. It spotted the trail, found the boy, and took him to its stone house.

Soon Anansi returned with a basket.

“Son! Kweku Tsin! Where are you?”

Again, the same deep voice called from the forest:

“Who is calling?”

And so the monster captured Anansi, too.

Inside the stone house, they saw many other captives. The people were frightened, but Kweku Tsin immediately began looking around.

“If there’s an entrance, there must be an exit,” he whispered to his father.

But escaping would not be easy.

A white rooster sat beside the gate. Whenever anyone came near the door, he made such a fuss that the monster came running at once.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

“He takes his guard duty seriously,” Anansi sighed.

For several days, Kweku Tsin watched the rooster carefully. He noticed that the rooster loved grain more than anything.

Then the boy turned to the other captives.

“How many sacks of millet and grain does the monster keep here?”

“A lot,” they replied. “The monster has huge stores.”

“Good. Some of it will help us.”

At night, when the monster was asleep, everyone got to work. Some secretly pulled out strong fibers. Others twisted them into strands. A third group braided the strands into a thick rope.

Kweku Tsin showed them what to do.

“Not just a rope. We need a long rope ladder.”

“How long?” Anansi asked.

Kweku Tsin looked up at the sky.

“All the way up there.”

Everyone was surprised, but no one argued.

They worked quietly and patiently. Day by day, the ladder grew longer. When it was finally finished, Kweku Tsin waited until night, went to the gate, and poured a long trail of grain in front of the white rooster.

The rooster woke, spotted the feast, and forgot everything else.

Peck-peck-peck.

Peck-peck-peck.

He did not even notice the gate opening quietly.

The captives carried the ladder outside. According to the old tale, a sky wind caught one end and lifted it so high that it reached all the way to the heavens.

“Hurry, but don’t panic,” Kweku Tsin said. “We’ll help one another.”

Those who needed the most help climbed first. The others followed.

Anansi had just put his foot on the lowest rung when his son suddenly turned around.

“I forgot something.”

“Just don’t tell me you’re going back!” Anansi whispered.

But Kweku Tsin was already running to the stone house.

A little magic fiddle belonging to the monster hung on the wall. Kweku Tsin had seen the monster sometimes touch its strings, and then even the wind seemed to move in time with the music.

The boy grabbed the fiddle and returned to the ladder.

“Now we can go.”

But just then the white rooster pecked up the last grain.

He raised his head.

He saw the open gate.

He saw the ladder.

And he crowed so loudly that the whole forest heard him:

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOO!”

The monster woke.

“Who dares to escape?!”

It rushed outside and saw the people climbing higher and higher.

“Come back!” it roared.

But no one stopped.

The monster grabbed the bottom of the ladder and climbed after them.

Kweku Tsin looked down.

“It’s very fast,” said Anansi. “What shall we do?”

The boy took out a small bundle of food they had brought for the journey and tossed a few pieces down.

The monster was greedy. It stopped.

“What’s that?”

It climbed down a few rungs, gathered the food, ate it, and started climbing again.

Kweku Tsin threw down a little more.

And then a little more.

They bought some time, but their supplies were running out.

“Now for the fiddle,” the boy said.

He tucked it beneath his chin and drew the bow across the strings.

Ding-a-ling…

Ding-a-ling…

As soon as the music drifted down, the monster stopped. Its right foot stepped sideways all by itself. Then its left. The monster stared at its own feet in surprise.

“What’s happening?”

The fiddle played faster.

Tirili, tirili, tirili!

The monster began to tap its feet, spin around, and dance awkwardly on the lower rungs.

“I don’t want to dance!” it grumbled.

But its feet kept dancing.

Meanwhile, the last captive reached the top of the ladder. Anansi stepped onto the heavenly ground, too.

“Kweku Tsin, it’s time!”

The boy played one last cheerful note and quickly pulled up the ladder’s top loop. The bottom end began to descend and coil up.

The monster, now not far above the ground, jumped onto the soft grass.

“Come back!” it shouted from below.

But the ladder rose into the sky, and the way back closed.

The escapees found themselves among the heavenly spaces. It was quiet and bright there, and the air was wonderfully easy to breathe.

The elders of the heavens listened to their story.

“Who planned the escape?” they asked.

Everyone pointed to Kweku Tsin.

“He noticed the rooster’s weakness.”

“He thought of the ladder.”

“He left no one behind.”

“And his music saved us from the chase.”

Then the heavenly elders said:

“You brought others a path to freedom and did not leave your friends in the dark. From now on, you shall carry the light yourself.”

And Kweku Tsin became the Sun.

His father, Anansi, became the Moon, to keep company with the night and remember the path they had climbed together.

Their friends became the stars and scattered across the sky like countless little lights.

But the stars and the Moon did not shine as brightly as Kweku Tsin. So the Sun shared its light with them.

When the Sun went to rest beyond the edge of the world, the Moon kept a little of its glow. The stars caught tiny rays and held on to them until morning.

And so, says an old West African tale, the Moon and the stars do not shine all by themselves. They shine because the Sun generously shares its light with them.

And if you gaze at the sky on a very clear night, you might imagine that an invisible little ladder still hangs among the stars—the ladder Kweku Tsin once used to lead his friends from darkness into the light.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨