There was once a time when famine swept across the land. The rains had failed, leaving the soil cracked and dry, and soon after, clouds of locusts descended, devouring every leaf and stem until even the thick forests looked bare and lifeless. Rivers shrank and trickled weakly, and hunger gnawed at every household.
On his farm, Kwaku Ananse and his wife Aso walked in circles, searching for something, anything to eat. By the stream, where once the water had nourished green plants, nothing but brittle stalks remained.
Determined to provide, Ananse traveled far and wide each day. He searched valleys, riverbanks, and empty fields for yams, plantains, or roots. At night he would return with nothing, his body weary and his heart heavier than before. His family, thin and restless, would complain, and his son Ntikuma, boldest of all, would ask, “Father, where is your wisdom? You, who are praised for cleverness, cannot even bring us food?”
These words pierced Ananse deeply, for pride and hunger both pressed against him.
At last, weary of endless wandering, Ananse turned to prayer and magic. He entered the forest and walked to the sacred grove, where silence hung heavy among the tall trees. There, he poured a libation and lifted his voice.
“O worthy ancestors, great in wisdom and understanding, see how your son Ananse suffers. See how my family grows thin. Help me, I beg you, to find food. I have honored you always, so grant me your aid in this time of need.”
His prayer finished, Ananse wandered onward. The forest was hushed, animals gone in search of greener lands. Then suddenly, he stumbled into a small clearing. At its center rested a pot so clean and polished it gleamed like sunlight.
Cautiously, Ananse approached. He circled the pot, peering around the silent grove. The pot was empty, but its beauty suggested purpose. He whispered, “Who could have left such a pot here? Does it have a name?”
Gently, he touched it and asked, “Pot, what is your name?”
To his astonishment, the pot replied, “Yebiribi mamenhwe — Do What You Can.”
Startled yet thrilled, Ananse exclaimed, “A pot that speaks! Are you magic? What can you do?”
The pot answered simply, “Try me and see.”
“Then do what you are able, Do What You Can,” Ananse commanded.
In an instant, the pot began to fill. Out flowed steaming soups rich with spice, roasted chicken and meat, bowls of yam and cassava fufu, plantains fried and roasted, piles of oranges, pineapples, pears, and pawpaws. The air was filled with sweet and savory aromas. Ananse’s eyes widened, his mouth watering. Never before had he seen such a feast.
Overcome with joy, he carried the pot away and quickly built a small hut hidden in the thicket by the stream. There he placed the magical pot, securing it like a treasure. He gave no thanks, for his thoughts were only of keeping it secret.
Each night, after his family had gone to sleep, Ananse crept out silently, climbed onto the roof of his house, and hid the pot beneath the thatch. From there, he secretly enjoyed the best of the meals before his family returned from praying at the sacred grove. When they arrived, he would offer them food, pretending to have gone without. In truth, he grew plump while his family only ate what remained.
Ntikuma, sharp-eyed and suspicious, noticed. “Mother,” he whispered to Aso, “do you not think it strange that Father refuses to eat with us? Look how round he has grown. He has always been greedy. Could he be hiding something?”
Aso only smiled sadly. “Your father loves secrets. But as long as we eat, let us not ask too much. To question him may invite trouble.”
But Ntikuma continued to watch his father. One evening, as Ananse tried to hide the pot in the thatch of the roof, he slipped. With a great crash he tumbled to the ground, the pot falling hard beside him. The magical vessel shattered, and Ananse cried out in pain. His family rushed to his side.
Aso washed his cuts and bound his wounds as he groaned in shame. “Forgive me, my wife, my children,” Ananse sobbed. “I have been too greedy. Each day I took the best food for myself before you returned. And now, through my selfishness, the pot that saved us is destroyed. Learn from me, my children. Greed brings only ruin. Take what you need, and always share with others.”
Thus Kwaku Ananse was punished for his greed.
Moral Lesson
The story of Kwaku Ananse and the Pot of Wisdom teaches us that greed and selfishness destroy blessings. True wisdom lies in sharing what we have, for those who hoard will eventually lose even the little they try to keep.
Knowledge Check
Q1: Who is Kwaku Ananse in Ashanti folklore?
A1: Kwaku Ananse is a clever but often greedy trickster figure in Ashanti folktales from Ghana.
Q2: What disaster strikes the land at the beginning of the story?
A2: A terrible famine caused by drought and locusts leaves the land barren and families starving.
Q3: What is the magical pot’s name and meaning?
A3: The pot is called “Yebiribi mamenhwe,” which means “Do What You Can.”
Q4: How did Ananse misuse the pot’s power?
A4: He secretly ate the best meals alone, refusing to share fully with his family.
Q5: What happens to the pot in the end?
A5: The pot breaks when Ananse falls from the roof while trying to hide it.
Q6: What is the main moral lesson of the story?
A6: Greed and selfishness lead to downfall, while sharing ensures blessings last.
Source: Ashanti folktale, Ghana
