In the ancient days when the Cross River flowed with stories and the winds carried whispers of old magic through the mangrove forests, there ruled a great king among the Efik people of Calabar. His palace stood majestically on the riverbank, its walls adorned with intricate carvings that told the histories of his ancestors, and its courtyards echoed with the sounds of traditional music and the gentle laughter of his household.
This king, wise in judgment and generous in spirit, had taken two wives according to the customs of his people. His first wife was a woman of gentle disposition whose beauty was both striking and serene. When she bore him a daughter, the entire kingdom marveled at the child’s extraordinary loveliness. Her skin seemed to glow with an inner light, and her features held such perfect harmony that the court poet declared she must be named Moonlight, for her face shone with the same soft, enchanting radiance as the moon that blessed their African nights.
Years later, the king chose a second wife, a woman whose presence commanded attention wherever she went. She moved with the confidence of one born to greatness, her head held high like a queen surveying her domain. Her beauty was fierce and dramatic, blazing with an intensity that could illuminate the darkest corners of any room. When she entered the palace as the king’s second wife, the people naturally called her Sunlight, for she carried herself with all the brilliant power and commanding presence of the sun itself.
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At first, the royal household thrived in harmonious splendor. The two wives seemed to complement each other beautifully, Moonlight with her gentle wisdom and nurturing spirit, Sunlight with her fierce intelligence and protective strength. The king delighted in the different qualities each brought to his life, and young Moonlight grew into a maiden whose kindness matched her extraordinary beauty.
But as the seasons turned and Moonlight blossomed into womanhood, darker currents began to flow beneath the surface of palace life. Sunlight, observing her stepdaughter’s increasing beauty and the way people’s eyes lit up when Moonlight entered a room, felt the first stings of an emotion she had never experienced before jealousy, sharp and poisonous as a snake’s bite.
Night after night, Sunlight would lie awake in her silk-draped chambers, tormented by fears that whispered like demons in her ears. What if the king began to love Moonlight more than he loved her? What if the people began to prefer the gentle girl’s quiet wisdom to her own fierce leadership? What if her own place in the palace, fought for and won through her own strength, might somehow be diminished by this beautiful young woman who seemed to win hearts simply by existing?
Driven by these consuming fears, Sunlight began to seek solutions in the shadowy corners of the spirit world. She visited wise women who dealt in charms and potions, medicine men who understood the darker arts, and ancient practitioners who could bend the natural world to their will. Finally, she obtained what she sought, a potion so subtly crafted that it would appear to be nothing more than refreshing palm wine.
One sweltering afternoon, when the sun blazed mercilessly overhead and the entire palace sought relief in cool drinks and shaded verandas, Sunlight approached her stepdaughter with a calabash of what appeared to be perfectly ordinary palm wine. “My dear Moonlight,” she said, her voice honey-sweet despite the bitterness in her heart, “you look so weary from the heat. Please, refresh yourself with this cooling drink.”
Moonlight, trusting and grateful for her stepmother’s apparent kindness, accepted the calabash and drank deeply. Within moments, her eyes grew heavy, her limbs became leaden, and she sank into a sleep so profound it resembled death itself. Her breathing became so shallow it was barely detectable, her heartbeat so faint it seemed to have stopped entirely.
The palace erupted in grief and confusion. The king wept bitter tears as he cradled his daughter’s still form, and the entire kingdom mourned for the beautiful maiden who had been struck down in the prime of her youth. Following ancient customs, they placed Moonlight’s body in a carved wooden chest made from the finest iroko wood, expecting it to decay as all mortal flesh must.
But something miraculous occurred, Moonlight’s body remained perfectly preserved, as beautiful and serene as if she were merely sleeping peacefully. Months turned to years, and still she lay unchanged in her wooden resting place, neither alive nor truly dead, suspended in a realm between worlds.
As time passed, Sunlight’s victory began to taste like ashes in her mouth. Instead of feeling triumphant, she found herself haunted by guilt and an unexpected tenderness toward the girl she had wronged. The palace, once filled with Moonlight’s gentle laughter, felt hollow and joyless. Even the king’s love for Sunlight seemed dimmed by his grief for his lost daughter.
One day, unable to bear the weight of her actions any longer, Sunlight found herself drawn to the room where Moonlight’s chest rested. With trembling hands, she opened the carved lid and looked upon the face that had remained unchanged by time. Overwhelmed by remorse and a love she had tried to deny, Sunlight lifted the girl into her arms.
At the moment their hearts touched, something magical occurred. The poison that had held Moonlight in its grip for so long was suddenly dislodged by the power of genuine affection. Moonlight’s eyes fluttered open like butterflies awakening, and life returned to her body in a rush of warmth and awareness.
The palace celebration that followed shook the very foundations of Calabar. The king wept with joy, the people danced in the streets, and Sunlight herself felt a happiness she had never known possible, the deep satisfaction that comes from choosing love over fear.
But jealousy, like a persistent weed, is not easily uprooted from the human heart. Several moons later, as Sunlight watched the kingdom’s renewed adoration of Moonlight, the old bitterness began to creep back into her thoughts. This time, her method was even more subtle, a tiny needle, barely visible, coated with a different poison and hidden in Moonlight’s sewing basket.
When Moonlight pricked her finger on the hidden needle, she once again fell into the deep, death-like sleep. But this time, Sunlight’s guilt was immediate and overwhelming. She had learned to love this gentle girl, and the sight of Moonlight lying still filled her with a anguish far greater than her jealousy.
Rushing to Moonlight’s side, Sunlight took the girl’s hand and kissed it tenderly, her tears falling like cleansing rain upon the poisoned finger. The salt of her genuine sorrow and the warmth of her love proved more powerful than any poison, washing away the dark magic and calling Moonlight back to the world of the living.
When the king witnessed this second miracle, he understood that something profound had changed in his household. Standing before both his wives, he spoke with the wisdom that had made him a beloved ruler:
“From this day forward, there will be no rivalry between you. Just as the sun and the moon share the sky without diminishing each other’s light, so shall you both share my heart and this household. Each of you brings your own gifts, your own beauty, your own strength. Together, you make our kingdom complete.”
Moral Lesson
Jealousy and envy can poison the heart and lead to actions we later regret, but love has the power to transform even the deepest bitterness into compassion. When we choose love over fear, redemption becomes possible, and what once seemed like competition can become the foundation for harmony and mutual support.
Knowledge Check
Q1: Who are Moonlight and Sunlight in this Efik folktale from Calabar? A1: Moonlight is the daughter of the king’s first wife, known for her gentle beauty and serene nature. Sunlight is the king’s second wife, characterized by her fierce beauty and commanding presence. Their names reflect their contrasting personalities, gentle like moonlight versus brilliant like sunlight.
Q2: What motivated Sunlight to poison Moonlight the first time? A2: Sunlight was driven by jealousy and fear that Moonlight’s extraordinary beauty and gentle nature would eventually overshadow her own position in the palace. She worried that the king and the people would prefer Moonlight over her.
Q3: What happened to Moonlight’s body after she was poisoned? A3: Instead of decaying normally, Moonlight’s body was miraculously preserved in a carved wooden chest. She remained unchanged for years, neither alive nor truly dead, suspended in a death-like sleep that resembled a magical enchantment.
Q4: How was Moonlight awakened the first time, and what does this symbolize? A4: Sunlight awakened Moonlight by lifting her into her arms with genuine love and remorse. This symbolizes how authentic affection and compassion can overcome poison and hatred, showing that love is more powerful than destructive emotions.
Q5: What was different about the second poisoning incident? A5: The second time, Sunlight used a poisoned needle hidden in Moonlight’s sewing basket. However, this time Sunlight’s guilt was immediate, and she awakened Moonlight by kissing her hand and shedding tears of genuine sorrow, showing her transformation from jealousy to love.
Q6: What wisdom did the Efik king share at the end of the story? A6: The king declared that just as the sun and moon share the sky without diminishing each other, both women could share his heart and household. This teaches that different people can coexist harmoniously by recognizing that each brings unique gifts and strengths rather than competing with each other.
Source: Efik folktale, Calabar, Nigeria
