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Long ago, in a faraway village, perhaps in Northern Nigeria (though who can say for sure) a farmer was walking home after a long day of tending to his fields. As he walked along the dusty path, he came across a snake freezing to death in the cold evening air.
The piteous snake pleaded with the farmer, begging to be let into his warm stomach, where it could curl up cozily and rest until it had regained its strength. The farmer thought himself a kind man, so he let the snake slide into his mouth and down into his stomach.
Once inside, the snake quickly regained its strength. But when the farmer asked the snake to leave, it refused. Terrified, the farmer sought the counsel of a wise heron.
The heron listened quietly. It, too, fashioned itself a kind creature. It agreed to help him. It slid its long, slender beak down the farmer’s throat and deftly pulled the snake out, dashing it against the ground before it could strike.
The farmer was grateful for the heron’s help, but he couldn’t shake the fear. Something still felt off. Perhaps the treacherous snake had left venom in his stomach.
The heron knew much of poisons. It advised the farmer to consume white meat, which would strengthen his constitution and cure him of any foulness that yet lingered in his stomach.
As the farmer considered the heron’s advice, he realized the heron itself was made of white meat. He seized the heron, stuffed it into a yuca sack, and headed home.
When the farmer arrived home, he recounted the day’s events to his wife. His wife was a kind woman, and she was disheartened that her husband had betrayed the heron. She decided she would set the heron free.
But as she opened the bag to release the frantic bird, it gouged out her eyes with its talons before flying away into the night.
The piteous snake pleaded with the farmer, begging to be let into his warm stomach, where it could curl up cozily and rest until it had regained its strength. The farmer thought himself a kind man, so he let the snake slide into his mouth and down into his stomach.
Once inside, the snake quickly regained its strength. But when the farmer asked the snake to leave, it refused. Terrified, the farmer sought the counsel of a wise heron.
The heron listened quietly. It, too, fashioned itself a kind creature. It agreed to help him. It slid its long, slender beak down the farmer’s throat and deftly pulled the snake out, dashing it against the ground before it could strike.
The farmer was grateful for the heron’s help, but he couldn’t shake the fear. Something still felt off. Perhaps the treacherous snake had left venom in his stomach.
The heron knew much of poisons. It advised the farmer to consume white meat, which would strengthen his constitution and cure him of any foulness that yet lingered in his stomach.
As the farmer considered the heron’s advice, he realized the heron itself was made of white meat. He seized the heron, stuffed it into a yuca sack, and headed home.
When the farmer arrived home, he recounted the day’s events to his wife. His wife was a kind woman, and she was disheartened that her husband had betrayed the heron. She decided she would set the heron free.
But as she opened the bag to release the frantic bird, it gouged out her eyes with its talons before flying away into the night.
