A tale as rich as chocolate, as clever as Ananse…
The village woke before the sun fully agreed.
Cocoa beans crackled in iron pans, sharp pops cutting through the morning air as smoke curled upward, bitter and sweet all at once. Beneath a wide neem tree, elders leaned back on low stools, teeth working steadily at kola nut, their laughter slow and red-stained. Somewhere nearby, palm wine breathed gently in a clay pot, its sweetness drifting through the heat.
Ananse arrived smiling.
“Today,” he said, “I will be efficient.”
He slipped between cocoa trees heavy with pods, their skins blushing yellow and orange. One hung especially low, shining as if it had been waiting just for him.
“Ɛsono,” Ananse murmured. Strong.
He tugged.
The pod did not move.
Ananse frowned and circled the tree, tapping the trunk, testing angles.
“You see,” he said to the pod, “others wait. I act.”
Nearby, an old woman sat sorting dried cocoa husks into a woven tray, the papery shells whispering against each other as she worked.
“You’re early,” she said without looking up.
“I’m clever,” Ananse replied, giving the pod a sharper pull. “Fa ma me.” Give it to me.
The stem creaked.
Then snapped.
The pod fell — heavy, final.
Ananse split it open, already grinning.
His smile faded.
The beans inside were pale, soft, unfinished. They smelled faint, like something interrupted mid-sentence.
The woman rose and set the husks aside. She poured cocoa into a small pot, letting it warm slowly over the fire, stirring only when it asked for it.
She glanced once at the open pod.
“Cocoa grows on its own clock,” she said. “Not yours.”
Ananse shrugged, brushing pulp from his hands.
“Next time,” he muttered. “I’ll be quicker.”
The cocoa trees rustled, unimpressed.
Had Ananse mistaken speed for wisdom?
Is cleverness still clever when it ignores time?
And what does cocoa do when you refuse to listen?
Well… that is a story for another time.
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