Wisdom of The Ages

In a quiet village nestled deep within the heart of Africa, there lived a boy named Janini and his younger sister, Mimsy. Their village was a small but vibrant community, surrounded by dense forests that whispered ancient stories through the trees’ rustling branches and in the leaves that swirled when the warm wind blew. The village people lived closely with nature, believing every living thing, from the trees to the smallest insect, was part of a delicate balance nurtured by the gods.

For generations, its people had been sustained by the land and guided by the wisdom of their ancestors. Every sunrise was greeted with amazement, and every rainstorm was celebrated as a gift. This deep respect for nature was passed down through stories, rituals, and the elders' teachings: the young were often gathered by the fireside to be reminded of their connection to the world around them.

One warm afternoon, as Janini and Mimsy wandered through the forest paths used for taking the oxen to drink, they paused by the river to rest. The water looked inviting, so Mimsy slipped her feet into the cold, refreshing stream. She giggled as the small, slippery fish darted by, brushing against her toes. She raised her hands above her head and looked up at the bright sun.

"Thank you for such a lovely day, Sun God!" she exclaimed. "You must be very happy today, to shine so brightly."

Janini, who was older than his sister, frowned as he watched her raise her hands to the sky. "Why are you always talking to the sky, Mimsy? Every time it rains or doesn't rain, you look up and speak to nothing," he said, and with a shake of his head, he kicked over a rock lying at the river’s edge.

Mimsy looked at him, surprised. "Have you forgotten everything the elders have taught us, Janini? We must thank the gods for the things they create, the food they give us, Janini, for the clothes on our backs.” You know these teachings. What has happened to you over these past weeks? Janini rolled his eyes and flung his head in the air in defiance of Mimsy’s scolding. “Everyone notices how impatient you have become and says you do not laugh as much as you used to.”

Janini scowled and looked down at the old, worn goatskin draped over his shoulders. It was tattered, patched from years of use, handed down from his father and his father's father. The pride that came with wearing it had faded. "I'm tired of these old teachings," he muttered. "I'm tired of listening to the same stories from the elders, over and over. What do they know, anyway? They’re just a bunch of old people clinging to the past."

Mimsy, though much smaller than her brother, stood up straight, her voice firmer now. "The elders teach us because they know more than we do, Janini. They've lived through more seasons than you or I. We have to honour their wisdom."

Janini threw the goatskin on the ground in a fit of anger. "Honour their wisdom?" he scoffed. "Why should I? I'm not some child who believes everything I’m told anymore, Mimsy. I'm tired of following rules just because someone else tells me I must." His voice rose as he stomped on the dried earth, sending a few insects scurrying. "Why do I even bother explaining this to you? You're only eight! What do you know about anything?"

Janini watched as a flurry of insects scrambled over the dry surface. His frustration boiled over. He stomped after the tiny creatures, crushing them underfoot without a second thought. As he moved, he began to sing a mocking tune, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Jump, little insects, jump. Run, little insects, run. Hide beneath the rocks and trees before Janini crushes you, one by one!" He snatched a stick from the ground and began thrashing at the earth, sending insects scurrying in all directions.

Nearby, a group of wading birds stood, quietly watching from the river’s edge, their sleek black feathers shimmering in the sunlight. Janini's eyes narrowed. He bent down, picked up a rock, and threw it toward the birds. Startled, they flapped their wings and rose into the air, their cries echoing across the water.

"Fly away!" he shouted after them, his voice filled with reckless glee. "Fly… fly away! Ha, ha, ha!"

Mimsy, who had been watching her brother's actions in growing horror, stepped forward and shouted, "Why did you do that, Janini?"

Janini glanced at her, still grinning. "Why did I do what?" he shrugged.

"Trample the insects…” Mimsy voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of her brother’s cruelty too much to bear. “And chase the black herons away? They weren't doing anything to you."

"They're just insects, Mimsy.” Janini replied, “And as for the birds? They can fly wherever they want.” Janini waved off her concerns with a careless gesture. He turned away, as if the matter were too insignificant to discuss.

Mimsy watched in horror as her brother continued to thrash at the insects, his stick slicing through the air. The bugs scattered, some crushed underfoot, others scrambling to escape. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stepped forward, hands clenched.

"Stop, Janini!" she shouted, her voice shaking with anger and sadness. "They have a purpose, just like everything else in the world. The elders taught us that every creature is part of the balance, and the gods will be angry."

Janini, without looking up, bent down and plucked a large spider from the ground by one of its legs. He held it out before her, letting it dangle above the water. "What kind of purpose does this creature serve? Look at it, Mimsy. It’s ugly! See how it curls itself up into a ball?"

Mimsy took a step closer, her face filled with a mixture of frustration and determination. "Yes, it's afraid, Janini! Just like I would be if you were hurting me. It might be small, but the gods made it for a reason, just like they made the sun, moon, and you and me. You can’t just decide what matters and what doesn’t."

For a moment, Janini hesitated. He looked at the spider dangling in his hand, then back at his sister. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly shook it off. "You're too young to understand, Mimsy," he muttered. "The gods don’t care about a few insects. There are so many of them, what difference does it make? Anyway, I don’t like them. They’re ugly and useless."

With that, he dropped the spider into the river. It splashed weakly as the current carried it away. Janini turned and sprinted toward the village, laughing, but his laughter was hollow, as if he were trying to convince himself that none of it mattered.

Apart from the rustling of the bushes in the slight breeze and the distant sound of a woodpecker tapping against a tree, the walk back to the village was quiet. The setting sun painted the sky in deep hues of orange and purple. The roars of a distant pride of lions echoed through the forest. Mimsy walked in silence, her heart heavy. She couldn’t understand why Janini had become so distant from the teachings of their people.

Once they reached the edge of the village, Janini ran off to join the older boys; he’d had enough of his sister. Mimsy went to look for the wisest woman she knew.

She found her grandmother sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, watching the last of the daylight fade from the sky.

"Have you greeted the rising moon, little Mimsy?" her grandmother asked, her voice as gentle as the evening breeze.

Mimsy looked up, noticing the pale glow of the moon peeking through the trees. "Good evening, moon," she whispered, before turning her gaze back to her grandmother.

"Come here, my child," the old woman said, opening her arms wide. Mimsy nestled into her embrace, feeling the warmth of her grandmother’s presence wrap around her like a soft blanket.

"What troubles you, Mimsy?" Grandmother asked, stroking the girl's long braids.

Mimsy hesitated, her mind racing with the day’s events. "It’s Janini," she finally said. "He… he trampled the insects and threw rocks at the birds. He says they don’t matter; there are too many for the gods to care about."

Grandmother’s eyes softened, but she said nothing at first, simply nodding as Mimsy continued. "I told him that every living thing has a purpose, that the gods watch over all creatures, big and small. But he wouldn’t listen. Why doesn’t he care anymore, Grandmother? Why does he disrespect everything we’ve been taught?"

The old woman sighed, her gaze drifting toward the sky. "The gods watch over everything, yes. But they also gave each of us the gift of choice. Some choose to honour the balance of life, while others turn away from it, blinded by their own desires."

Mimsy furrowed her brow, confused. "But why would someone choose to turn away? Don’t they see the harm they cause?"

Grandmother smiled faintly and shook her head. "Sometimes, my dear, it’s easier to close our eyes to the things we don’t want to see. Your brother is struggling because he is at an age where he feels he must prove himself, but he doesn’t yet understand the true meaning of strength. He thinks it’s about power over others, about rejecting the old ways to find his path. Like so many of our young, you may go through it too. I know I did."

Mimsy was shocked by her grandmother’s answer, she looked down, her hands twisting together. "But the old ways are important. They keep us connected to the gods and each other."

"Yes," Grandmother agreed. "But we all must learn this for ourselves. We can only guide those who are willing to see. Understanding often requires looking at things from many angles."

Mimsy was quiet for a moment, absorbing her grandmother’s words. "What should I do?"

"You’ve done all you can, Mimsy," Grandmother said, placing a hand on her granddaughter's cheek. "You’ve reminded your brother of our traditions; now the rest is up to him."

Night time began to fall, and so too came the sounds of the dark. The big old owl stepped from side to side on her throne, high up in the papaya tree. Finally picking her spot, she looked down on her subjects. A family of warthogs trod carefully around the clay huts, searching for offerings left from an evening supper of groundnut stew.

In one of the huts, Janini was fast asleep. Mimsy, on the other hand, was still awake, thinking of grandmother’s words and her brother’s goatskin, the legacy of their father and his father before him, left discarded and vacant where he dropped it. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Her brother was wayward and excitable; the entire village knew that. Why did she leave the goatskin when she knew it was the wrong thing to do?

As the sun began to rise, Mimsy was woken by the sounds of drumming. She peered outside and was greeted with the sight of the whole village in frenzied excitement. The boats had come in laden with shoals of silver fish from the river. The women sang and danced, gyrating their bodies with so much energy that sweat poured. Some young men laid down whole honeycomb hives while dancing their warrior dance, enacting stories of great wars won by their ancestors. Mimsy could not believe her eyes, for in the middle of it all stood Janini, adorned in his goat’s skin. No longer was it old and dusty; it was as if the history of their people, the wisdom of the ages, had woven itself back into the tunic’s fabric. It was bright and new as the day!

The elders huddled together, smoking pipes, playing ancient games, and sharing stories with the children. They spoke of a goatskin tunic, crafted centuries ago as a symbol of ancestral wisdom to protect the forest. Those who respected it thrived, while those who didn’t became lost.  It was said that the tunic would return to its former glory one day, and when that time came, the community would prosper. Its wearer, now enlightened, would be known as the forest’s guardian and protector of all it sustains.

Janini jumped and danced in all his splendour. The villagers slapped him on the back and rode him high on their shoulders. Even grandmother was clapping and dancing. It seemed everyone had forgotten about his cruel acts the day before.

Janini looked over at his sister and raised his hands to the sky. "Thank you for such a beautiful day, Sun God," he called out. "And for shining so brightly on this day of abundance. Thank you for the harvest, fish, honey, and our people’s smiles. But most of all, thank you for my sister, Mimsy, for if not for her, we’d have no reason to rejoice today. She opened my eyes to the wisdom I had forgotten."

Mimsy felt  embarrassed as the women of the village gathered around her, smiling and congratulating her as Janini continued.

"As I slept last night, I was awoken by a terrible dream. I dreamt that the goat skin I had abandoned so easily was washed away and taken to a strange place. A place where people valued only possessions and forgot the land, the sky, the creatures. It was worn and tattered, and those who saw it mocked it, though they knew nothing of its true meaning."

The villagers listened intently, hanging on his every word.

“I went to look for the skin as the village slept, and when I arrived, all was in darkness. The tide had come in and was trying to drag my tunic out to sea. But something was stopping it, something was saving me from my dream. I sat and watched, entranced, as the tide flowed back and forth. I remembered the elders’ teachings and the simple truth of their guiding ideas, that there is a purpose for everything, and everything has its purpose. When I finally understood that, the tide stopped, and the skin was restored. Mimsy, you tried so hard yesterday to make me see what was in front of my very eyes! You made me realise that we can encourage change in others, but ultimately, true change comes from within. "

The villagers erupted in cheers, and Mimsy, though embarrassed by the attention, couldn’t help but smile. Janini had found his way back to the wisdom of their ancestors, and the village had been restored to its harmony.

So, in understanding the past, we are tasked with honouring it. The goat’s skin, the heron's flight, and the insect’s dance are all part of the greater harmony. The wisdom of the ages lies not in domination but in the balance of all things.  

This is and will always be, the wisdom of the ages.