Ananse and the Pot of Wisdom

Long ago, when people and animals understood one another, Kwaku Ananse was known for being clever.

Ananse could escape from almost any difficulty. He could solve riddles, discover secrets and talk his way out of trouble.

But being clever was not enough for him.

Ananse wanted everyone to believe that he was the wisest creature in the world.

One day, he had an idea.

“I shall gather every piece of wisdom I can find,” he said. “Then no one will know more than I do.”

Ananse took a large clay pot and travelled from place to place.

Whenever he heard a useful lesson, he placed it inside the pot.

He collected the farmer’s knowledge of when to plant seeds. He collected the weaver’s knowledge of how to turn thread into cloth. He collected the drummer’s knowledge of rhythms that could send messages from one village to another.

He gathered proverbs from elders, remedies from healers and songs from mothers soothing their babies.

He collected the fisherman’s understanding of the river and the hunter’s knowledge of animal tracks.

Whenever someone solved a difficult problem, Ananse hurried over and added the answer to his pot.

Day after day, the pot became heavier.

At last, Ananse looked inside and smiled.

“Now I have all the wisdom in the world.”

But then he began to worry.

“What if someone steals my wisdom? What if they become as wise as I am?”

Ananse covered the pot and tied it tightly with rope.

“I must hide it where no one will ever find it.”

He thought about burying it beneath the ground, but someone might dig it up.

He considered hiding it in the river, but a fisherman might catch it in a net.

Then Ananse remembered the tallest silk-cotton tree in the forest.

“I shall hide my pot at the very top,” he decided. “No one but Ananse could possibly climb so high.”

He tied the pot in front of his body and set off for the forest.

Ananse did not know that his young son, Ntikuma, had heard everything.

Curious to see what his father would do, Ntikuma followed quietly behind him.

The silk-cotton tree stood deep within the forest.

Its great roots rose from the ground like walls, and its trunk stretched so high that its upper branches seemed to touch the clouds.

Ananse stood at the bottom and looked up.

“This is perfect,” he said. “My wisdom will be safe here.”

He tightened the rope around the pot. It hung directly in front of him.

Then he placed his hands and feet against the tree and began to climb.

Bump!

The pot struck the trunk.

Ananse tried again.

Bump! Scrape! Thump!

Every time he lifted himself, the pot got in his way. It pushed against his body and prevented him from holding the tree properly.

Ananse climbed a little, slipped and landed at the bottom.

He looked around to make sure no one had seen him.

Behind one of the great roots, Ntikuma covered his mouth to hide a laugh.

Ananse tried once more.

He stretched one leg around the trunk. He reached for a handhold and pulled with all his strength.

The pot swung from side to side.

Ananse slipped again.

He tried climbing quickly.

He tried climbing slowly.

He tried pulling the pot to his left and then to his right.

Nothing worked.

Soon, Ananse was hot, dusty and tired.

“What use is possessing all the wisdom in the world,” he grumbled, “if I cannot climb one simple tree?”

Ntikuma stepped out from his hiding place.

“Father,” he called.

Ananse turned around sharply.

“What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Ntikuma admitted. “I wanted to see where you were taking the pot.”

“This is not an ordinary pot,” Ananse said proudly. “It contains all the wisdom in the world. I am carrying it to the top of this tree, where no one else can reach it.”

Ntikuma looked at the pot. He looked at the rope. Then he looked at the scrapes on the tree trunk.

“Why don’t you tie the pot behind you?” he asked. “Then your arms and legs will be free to hold the tree.”

Ananse stared at his son.

He slowly moved the pot from his stomach to his back.

Then he began to climb.

Without the pot in front of him, climbing was easy. Ananse moved past the first branch, then the second. Soon, he was high above the forest floor.

Ntikuma’s idea had worked.

Ananse stopped on a wide branch and looked down at his son.

“How can this be?” he wondered.

He had gathered the wisdom of farmers, healers, hunters, weavers and elders. He had filled his pot until there was hardly room for one more idea.

Yet Ntikuma had discovered something that was not inside it.

“If I truly have all the wisdom in the world,” Ananse said, “how could my young son know something I did not?”

Ananse felt embarrassed.

Then his embarrassment turned into anger.

“What sort of wisdom is this?” he cried. “I carried this heavy pot across the land, but it does not contain everything!”

In his frustration, Ananse lifted the pot from his back.

“I do not want it!”

He pushed it away.

The pot fell from the branch.

It struck another branch, bounced against the trunk and crashed onto a great root below.

Crack!

The clay pot shattered into many pieces.

All the wisdom Ananse had gathered rushed out.

Some of it was carried away by the wind. It flew above the trees and travelled towards distant villages.

Some fell onto the forest floor, where people and animals found it.

Then rain began to fall.

The water carried wisdom into the streams. The streams carried it to the rivers, and the rivers carried it throughout the land.

Wisdom entered homes, farms, markets and workshops.

It reached people who knew how to build and people who knew how to grow food. It reached those who could tell stories, settle disagreements and care for the sick.

Some wisdom went to the old.

Some went to the young.

Some even remained with Ananse.

But no single person received all of it.

Ananse climbed down from the tree and examined the broken pot.

Ntikuma stood beside him.

“Father,” he said softly, “perhaps wisdom was never meant to be kept in one place.”

Ananse looked at his son.

This time, he listened.

From that day onward, wisdom belonged to everyone. Each person carried a small part, and people discovered more whenever they listened to one another.

That is why the wisest person can still learn something from a child.

And that is why no one person can hold all the wisdom in the world.

Ananse — The Akan name for the spider figure found in many traditional stories.

Nyame — The Akan name for God or the Supreme Being.