The Whispering Palms

In the heart of Anambra, where the River Niger’s waters shimmered under the moon, the village of Umuora thrived amidst lush palm groves. The villagers revered the ancient palm trees, believing they held the spirits of their ancestors. Every night, the palms seemed to whisper, their fronds rustling with secrets only the wind could carry.

Eze, a young yam farmer, was different. He didn’t believe in spirits or whispers. To him, the palms were just trees, and the village’s traditions were old tales spun to keep children in line. But when his crops began to wither despite fertile soil, and his dreams filled with voices calling his name, Eze could no longer ignore the whispers.

One evening, under a sky ablaze with stars, Eze ventured to the oldest palm, said to be the heart of Umuora’s spirit. Its gnarled roots twisted like ancient hands, and its fronds swayed without wind. “Who are you?” Eze demanded, his voice trembling. The tree answered—not in words, but in visions. Eze saw his grandfather, a man he’d never met, hiding a carved wooden box beneath the palm’s roots during a forgotten drought. The box held a charm, a promise to the river goddess for prosperity, but it came with a price: the family’s firstborn must honor her yearly, or the land would curse them.

Eze’s father had abandoned the ritual, dismissing it as superstition. Now, the goddess’s patience had worn thin. Eze, desperate to save his crops, dug beneath the palm and found the box, its carvings worn but pulsing with faint light. Inside was a riverstone, smooth and cool. The whispers grew louder, urging him to the Niger’s edge.

At dawn, Eze waded into the river, the stone heavy in his hand. He offered it back, vowing to honor the goddess as his ancestors had. The water rippled, and a breeze carried the palm’s whispers away. Days later, his yams flourished, greener than ever.

Eze never spoke of that night, but he became the village’s keeper of traditions, teaching his children to listen when the palms whispered. Umuora thrived, its secrets safe in the rustling fronds.

THE END.