LIFT UP YOUR HEAD AND SING

a story from Ghana

This version of an East African story about rain was originally intended to be a picture book.  The publishers couldn't find the right illustrator for it and it eventually got shelved in favour of another project.

A couple of years ago I wrote a much shorter version which was included in AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 TALES. 

Drip, drip.
Dribble, dribble.
It hadn’t rained for so long, the river in the jungle had shrunk to a sad little trickle.
‘Whatever shall we do?’ wondered the animals, ‘we’re all going to die of thirst if we don’t get some water soon.’
‘Perhaps we should move to another jungle,’ said the zebra.
‘Or we could dig a well,’ suggested the hippo, who just hated being out of the mud.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said the snake.  ‘All we have to do is sing to Nyame, the sky-god.  He must be asleep in the sky beyond the great mountain.  If we sing loud enough, he might wake up and send us some rain.’


    ‘I’ll sing, then,’ said the lion.  ‘I have the loudest voice in the jungle.  It’s bound to wake up the sky-god.’
    And he tossed back his mane and started roaring:

        ‘Raah! Raah! Raah!
        Raaha-Rah-Rah!
        Rah! Rah! Rah Rah-aaaaah!

    But nothing happened. The blue sky remained blue.
    The summer breeze rustled the dry grass.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on.


‘Let me have a go,’ said the elephant.  ‘I can reach very high with my trunk.  The sky-god will definitely hear me.’
    And she lifted her trunk and trumpeted with all her strength:

    ‘Her-eeh!  Her-eeh! Her-eeh!
    Her-eeh!  Her-eeh! Her-eeh!
    Her-eeeh!’

    Still nothing happened.  The sun remained as fierce as ever.
    The leaves hung limp on the trees.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on and on.


‘I’ll sing next,’ said the giraffe.  ‘I am taller than anyone here.  The sky god is sure to hear me.’

    And she lifted her long neck and bellowed:

    ‘Harumph! Harumph! Haumph!
    Harumph-ah! Harumph!’

    But still nothing happened.
    The breeze swirled dust around the valley.
    The midges droned lazily in the air.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on and on and on.

‘Perhaps I should try next,’ said the monkey.  ‘I can climb to the top of the tallest tree.  Surely the sky-god will hear me from such a height?’

    The monkey swung up a tree, shook his paws at the sky and chattered:

    ‘Hee-hee!  Hee-hee!  Hee-hee!
    Hee-hee. Hey-heee!  Heh-heh!

    Once more nothing happened.
    The branches of the trees creaked in the heat.
    The tree frog sighed with parched throats.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on and on and on and on.

‘Why don’t you let me sing?’ said the deer.  ‘I can climb to the top of the great mountain.  That’s very close to the sky.  The rain-god will certainly hear me from up there.’

    The deer bounded up the mountain,  climbing higher and higher until he was just a speck on the summit.  There he lifted his antlers and bleated:

    ‘Eh-he, Eh-he, Eh-he!
    Eh-hey-ye-heye-eh!

    But, again, nothing happened.
    The mountain top glinted in the sun.
    A mountain eagle continued to flap its weary wings.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on and on and on and on and on.

‘That’s it,’ said the flamingo.  ‘I’m going to fly straight up into the sky and wake up the sky-god.’

    He lifted his wings, soared up into the heavens and cawed:
    ‘Ha-wooo! Ha-wooo! Haw-woo!
    Hawa-wawwa. Ha-wooo!’
    Nothing happened.
    The last drop of water dried up in the river-bed.
    Somewhere in the jungle, another tree toppled over.
    In the sky beyond the great mountain, the sky-god snored on and on and on and on and on and on.

‘Why don’t I sing to the sky-god?’ called out a soft voice from the dried mud of the river-bed.
    The animals looked down to see a tiny fresh-water mussel, her shell almost shut against the fierce sun.
    ‘You?’ they all laughed.
    ‘I know how to sing,’ said the fresh-water mussel.
    ‘But you are so small,’ sneered the lion, ‘and you live so deep in the mud. How can the sky-god hear you down there?’
    ‘We have nothing to lose,’ said the fresh-water mussel.  ‘My children are dying of thirst.’
    And she opened her shell a little wider and started to sing.

The other animals could hardly hear her but her soft voice carried on the summer breeze, high up into the sky.  It wormed its way into the sky-god’s dream and he stirred in his sleep.
    What was that beautiful song he could hear?
    Was it real, or was he dreaming?
    The sky-god opened his eyes.
    Yes, he really could hear a faint singing, rising from the jungle below.

The sky-god strained to hear the song better. As he leaned forward, his hair billowed across the sky, blocking out the sun.
    Down in the jungle the air got suddenly cooler.
    A cold breeze blew around the trees.

The fresh-water mussel kept on singing.  She sang to the sky-god about her children dying of thirst, she begged for rain.    
Her song was so moving, and yet so full of hope, the sky-god could not help himself.
    He started to cry.
    All at once, it started to rain. Water poured out of the grey sky,  falling in torrents on the jungle below.
    The river started to fill up.  Pools of rain water formed on the ground.

    The animals cheered.  They drank till they nearly burst, then they danced in the rain to celebrate.
All around them, the trees lifted their heads again and the flowers opened.
    No one remembered to thank the fresh-water mussel for her song,  but she didn’t mind.  At last she could drink again. Her children were safe.
    ‘I shall never be scared again,’ the fresh-water mussel said to herself.  ‘Now I know the sky-god will always be there for me.  All I have to do is ask for his help.’

    And that is why, to this very day, when anyone needs help from God, they just lift up their head and sing.