Once upon a time there was a village.
It had a lot of green fields and many, many children in a pretty school house.
The rains came each year, pouring water down from the beautiful blue-grey clouds, between the silver strand of lightening. From the water grew the green plants and flowers and fruits.
And the honey bees buzzed happily in the warm air.
Every Saturday the village had a market, where the potato farmer sold potatoes
and the green bean farmer sold fresh green beans
and the onion farmer sold round red onions
and the black eye pea farmer sold delicious dried peas.
And the children ran around all day, looking at beautiful flowers and smelling the fresh bread, listening to the moms and dads talking and the tea cups clinking.
One year, the moms and dads watched the blue sky – but the rain never came. "Perhaps it is a little late," said Dad. But the rain never came. A small white cloud passed by one day. But the rain never came.
"Oh my," said the potato farmer. "How can I feed my daughter all year?" So he did not take his vegetables to the market.
The bean farmer said, "I don't have enough beans to sell." So he did not take the beans to the market.
The peanut farmer said, "I need all the peanuts just for my family." So he did not take the peanuts to the market.
The market was all empty. And the children were sad.
"Why are you sad, Mom?" asked the little boy. Mom said, "We will be all right son." "The rain will come next year and the fields will be green again." But Mom and Dad were sad.
The storyteller came walking into the village as he did each year.
But nobody came to welcome him.
Mom and Dad pulled the children into the house and closed the door because they did not want to share their food with him.
"Why Mommy?" asked the girl. "Hush Child," said Mom. "We don't have enough to share." But Mom was sad.
The girl went skipping to the well with Mom. She was happy because her water pot was shiny and bright.
"Can you give me some water, little girl?" asked the story teller. "Yes," she said. "See I am so strong — I can draw the water all by myself!" She poured the water into the Story teller's big black pot.
The boy head the story teller's flute and peeped out of his door. It was dark and cold outside. The bon fire was blazing bright and the story teller's hat was tall and pointed.
The wood smoke smelled nice and the flute had a happy tune.
The boy and his sister crept out. "What are you doing?" they asked. "I am making soup," he said. "Hmmm, the water is boiling. All it needs is my magic stone." 'Splash' went the stone into the soup pot.
The children sat down to listen to the flute.
The man dipped a big ladle into the pot and tasted the soup. "Mmmm ... Slurp, Slurp ... Delicious! he said. "Just needs a few beans to thicken it. It is so good!"
"Can we have some soup?" asked the girl. "Why, of course!" said the man. "As soon as it is done." "Maybe my Dad will give us some beans," said the boy. And he ran home to ask.
"OK," said Dad. "Just this once." "I cannot give you more." And the beans went 'plunk' into the water.
The big ladle again went into the water. "Mmmm ... Slurp, Slurp ... Delicious! he said. "But I wish I had some salt to make it taste good for you."
"Can your Dad give some salt?" asked the boy to his friend. "Sand some carrots, as well!" said the stranger. "I will ask," said the friend. And he ran away.
"You be careful now," said Dad. "We will not have food this winter if you give away what we have." 'Swish' went the salt into the soup. And the carrots followed the salt.
"What are you all doing here?" asked Grandpa. "Waiting to eat the soup!" cried the children. "It smells sooo good!"
"Ah! But it will smell even better with some onions and pepper," said Grandpa. "Son, run and get some from Grandma."
"But ... Dad!" said the man. He then went to get some anyway.
So the onions and the pepper, the beans and squash, and the pumpkin and the raidsh, all went into the soup pot.
The sky was dark. The bonfire spluttered bright and the flute had a happy tune.
"Aha," said the stranger, finally. "Do you all have your soup bowls ready?" "Call your neighbros. We have plenty for all to share!"
"The magic stone makes a lot of good soup," said the girl.
"Yes, and it makes a lot of friends," said the man.
And they all had soup. "Mmmm ..."
"But there are no magic stones." "Stones can't make anything," said the boy.
"Hmmm," said the storyteller. "Perhaps you are right." "But friends who share can make everything."
"Ahhhh," said the girl. "There is nothing as good as a bowl of hot soup!"
The End
