Why the Sun and the Moon Live in the Sky

Why the sun and the moon live in the sky? Before the sky was an empty blue dome waiting for the night, the earth was a crowded, bustling neighborhood where everyone lived on the very same dusty ground. In those ancient days, if you wanted to speak to the sun, you did not have to look up until your neck ached. You simply walked down the red dirt road, turned at the tall baobab tree, and knocked on his heavy wooden gate. He lived right there among the people, a bright and fiery gentleman with a golden face, sharing the world with his quiet, silvery wife, the moon. And of all the people, animals, and spirits who walked the earth in those early times, the sun's very best friend was the water. This is a story that has been told for hundreds of years by the Ifik and Ibibio peoples, who live in the lush, river-threaded lands of Southern Nigeria. In their country, where the great cross river winds its way like a giant green snake down to the wide Atlantic Ocean, people know just how powerful, beautiful, and unstoppable water can be. They tell this story in many different ways around evening fires, when the air is cool and the stars begin to blink open. They tell it to remind themselves of the ancient days, and to answer a question that children have asked since the world was young. Why did the sun and the moon leave their cozy home on the ground and climb so very high into the sky? In the beginning, the friendship between the sun and the water was the talk of the whole earth. They were as different as two friends could be, yet they were inseparable. The sun was hot, dry, and always in a hurry, shining with a brilliant, crackling energy that made the clay roads bake and the green leaves curl. The water, on the other hand, was cool, slow, and endlessly patient, flowing over rocks with a soft whispering sound, and filling the deep hollows of the earth with his dark, mysterious pools. Every single afternoon, as the heat of the day began to soften into twilight, the sun would leave his mud brick compound and walk down to the shores of the great river where the water lived. He would sit on a smooth gray stone, his golden robes tucked around his knees, and cast his brilliant light deep into the cool dark currents. "Good evening, my friend," the sun would call out, his voice crackling like dry grass in a summer wind. And from the depths of the river, the water would rise to meet him, a shimmering figure of blue and green, crowned with white foam. "Good evening, sun," the water would rumble, his voice sounding like smooth pebbles rolling in the surf. "You are looking particularly bright today." "Ah, it was a busy afternoon," the sun would say, beaming with pride. "I dried three fields of yams, helped the corn grow two inches, and baked a dozen new clay pots for the villagers. But tell me, what did you do today?" Then, the water would tell him stories of the deep, dark places where the light could not reach. He would speak of the silent currents that traveled beneath the earth, of the ancient rocks that had been carved into beautiful shapes by his gentle touch, and of the secret paths he took through the roots of the giant mahogany trees. The sun would listen, utterly fascinated, his golden face glowing with wonder. They would talk for hours, laughing and sharing stories, until the moon, the sun's quiet and beautiful wife, came down to join them. She would sit beside her husband, her silver light mingling with his gold, casting a beautiful shimmering pattern across the water's surface. It was a perfect arrangement, and for a long time, everyone was content. But as the years went by, a small shadow began to grow in the sun's warm heart. He realized that while he had visited the water's home thousands of times, the water had never once come to visit him. Every evening, the sun walked to…

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