The Story of Little Buttercup &The

The Story Of Little ButterCup &The Majic Cane---First Story!!!

By Dr. François S. Clemmons

August 14, 2005

The Story Of The Magic Cane!

Once Upon a time there was a little boy named ButterCup. ButterCup lived in a little town in Alabama called Redville with his Mother, his Father, his Brother, his two twin sisters, his grand father and grand mother, and his GreatGrandDaddySaul. They all lived in a big house in a meadow on a farm by Crab Creek.

There were animals on the farm too: chickens, ducks, geese, cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, and mules. They all lived in the big red barn together and they all had to be taken care of by the grown-ups.

When ButterCup awoke in the morning he would wash himself and brush his teeth. Then he would have breakfast with the whole family. When breakfast was over, his mother would let him go out to play. His favorite games were leap frog, hop scotch, and he was good at climbing trees.

He would play all morning like that with his brother and sisters until his mother called him for lunch. He would have to wash his face and hands before eating lunch. When lunch was over he went back to the yard to play some more. Then he would run about until his mother or grandmother called him to come in to wash and clean himself for dinner.

After dinner, depending on whether it was still light or dark, he could play until it was time to come in and change his clothes and prepare for bed. Sometimes his mother or father or grand mother or grand father would tell him and his brother and sisters stories about what it was like before they were born. He loved to hear the stories and always asked for more.

Sometimes when ButterCup was lying in bed at night he would hear the older folks talking. They were concerned about GreatGrandDaddySaul because he was getting up in years---as many as 80 or maybe 90 years they were saying, and now he walked everyday with a cane. They said he was getting old and forgetful and needed someone to care for him more and more. ButterCup did not understand this because he loved his GreatGrandDaddy Saul. Saul did not seem old to him. Some days he would go fishing or hunting in the woods with his GreatGrandDaddy. Those were his happiest memories.

Sometimes after lunch GreatGrandDaddySaul and ButterCup would sit under the big old willow tree in the yard and watch the squirrels and butterflies flit about until no one was paying them any attention. Then he and his great GreatGrandDaddy would take his cane and walk hand in hand, slowly across the meadow and into the woods. When they got into the woods they would head straight for their favorite shady nook on the bank of Crab Creek. They would clean off some branches that GreatGrandDaddySaul would cut and tie string to it and make a fishing rod out of it. GreatGrandDaddy always seemed to have a knife, some string and hooks in his pocket. Then he would look under some dark wet rocks and pull out 5 or six juicy worms for bait.

‘The best ones are always wet and sticky,’ GreatGrandDaddy would say. When they had the worms on the hooks, they would put their fishing poles in the water and sit back and wait quietly for the fish to start biting the wiggling worms. It usually didn’t take long. But some days Little ButterCup would fall asleep before they got their first bite.

Then he would awaken to his GreatGrandDaddy calling his name,

‘ButterCup! ButterCup! Wake up! The fish are biting.’ When he looked to where his GreatGrandDaddySaul was pointing, his line was moving. Indeed it looked like a fish was nibbling at the line. If he was careful and his GreatGrandDaddy helped, he was sometimes able to pull in the line with a fish on it. He didn’t really care whether he caught a fish or not. He enjoyed his time with his GreatGrandDaddy and couldn’t wait to share their special secret.

Their special secret was that on some occasions the majic cane that GreatGrandDaddySaul used for walking, would talk. The cane had told ButterCup many wonderful stories of life in Africa and about a great warrior named Adeyemi Sofola.

Today after they got settled, he asked his GreatGrandDaddy if the cane would tell him a story about Adeyemi. His GreatGrandDaddy said he didn’t know, but he could ask. When he asked the cane, there was only silence. So they sat and waited.

As Little ButterCup settled on his GreatGrandDaddy’s lap, the cane began to tell the story:

‘Once upon a time on a far away continent called Africa lived a young man named Adeyemi Sofola. Adeyemi lived in a village called HoneyGrove in Benin near the Gold Coast with his father, his mother, his sisters, and brothers, and lots and lots of extended relatives and friends. He had relatives up the street, down the street, and across the street. Next door to his house lived his Uncle and his wife and their family; and on the other side of his house lived his uncle with his wife, and their family. All of the relatives and friends who lived in the village lived in peace and worked very hard to have a good life.

There was only one problem in this peaceful village. They lived very near the jungle but no one could go into the jungle because of the fear of the great new king lion that reined there. In fact no one had been in the jungle for over 10 years. This was very difficult for the people because their ancestors before them and their families before that and for many centuries before the time of knowing, their families had gone into the jungle for herbs, and nuts and plants, and for special mushrooms for cooking and healing and especially for the treasured honey of the bees. It had been a long, long time since they had had any honey for their cooking and for making ceremonial deserts and breads. What were they going to do without their golden honey that tasted so delicious and represented their link to their ancestors who descended from the sun? Obviously they could not perform their sacred ceremonies without the nectar of the honeybee. Their sacred ceremonies told them who they were as a people.

One day, one of the young warriors of the village, named Kamala stepped forward and announced to the Elders that he would go into the jungle to do battle with the lion king and to gather some honey for the making of the special bread. Everyone was afraid and told him he could not go. They explained to him that people who went into the jungle never came out again because of the lion. When the elders saw that they could not stop Kamala from going into the jungle, they decided to have a feast to bid farewell to him.

Kamala was the eldest son of the Umbala family and very much loved and cherished. The thought of his not coming back sent his mother Trishana into uncontrollable tears. They all tried to keep a happy face and not show how painful it was to see their favored son go off to the jungle. They feared that they would never see him again.

So his family and all the other Elders of the village gathered on that fateful day and sat with him and ate with him and grieved his going off. When it was time to see Kamala off, they walked him to the edge of the jungle and bid him a sad farewell. He took his spear and shield and with his head held high, walked boldly into the darkness of the jungle.

He was never seen again.

It was a long time before anyone dared go into the jungle again. But one day a dashing young warrior of the village named, Sumoso, stepped forward and informed his father, the honorable Solpito, and his mother, Tilafa, that he was going into the jungle to gather some honey for the making of sweet bread. It had been a long time since he and any of his family or friends had had some special sweet bread and they longed for its taste.

His mother began to cry. What was she to do? She remembered what had happened to the handsome, Kamala and did not want to lose her oldest, most handsome, and bravest son to some fierce jungle beast. His father, Solpito and other elders tried to talk to him, but his mind was made up. As they had done for the handsome Kamala, they prepared a great feast for Sumoso, and the entire village attended. Everyone was crying because they knew that they would never see him again. When the time came, as in times past, the elders embraced him and bid him farewell. He took his hatchet and shield and headed for the jungle.

That was the last time they ever saw him.

It took some time, but eventually life in the little village returned to normal. Everyone continued to work hard and tried to forget about the handsome Kamala, and courageous Sumoso. They began to forget the taste of wild honey, the sacred ceremony and who they were. It was also feared that the women were forgetting how to make the special bread. It was not a happy time.

Then one day when the sun was shining bright and everyone had learned to be happy again, yet another young man in the village named Banguro stepped forward and announced to the elders that he desired to go into the jungle and gather honey for the women so that they could have the traditional sweet breads that they had forsaken for so long. Everyone cried out aloud for him not to go. The jungle was too dangerous. But it was to no avail that his father, the honorable, Ikintro, and his mother NGafatiti cried out to the heavens and anyone else in the village who would listen that they did not want their eldest, smartest, and swiftest son to go off to fight the monster in the jungle. They knew that they would never see him again as with the handsome, Kamala, and courageous, Sumoso. Nevertheless he swore allegiance to the Gods of their ancestors that he would restore their traditional practice and gather the honey for the special ceremonial sweet breads that they had neglected for over 10 years. He had heard of the legend of the sweet breads among his people, but did not know how it tasted or even smelled. He wished to restore the practice of the old ways for the sake of the younger generation.

The Elders and all the villagers agreed that it would be good to honor the old ways again, but not at the expense of his precious life. In the end he could not be dissuaded and they reluctantly prepared the dreaded farewell banquet. The banquet was strangely quiet even though the whole village was present. Throughout the sad occasion one heard only the mournful sound of his dear mother, NGafatiti, who cried bitter tears the entire time. When the feast was over, the Elders gathered together and spoke very solemnly to him. While they were yet speaking and trying to reason with him one last time, he firmly strapped on his battle armor with bow and arrow and stepped determinedly into the jungle….not looking back.

After several days, the elders and everyone else in the village knew they would never see him again.

The time passed and after a while, life returned in the village to an acceptable grey that made survival possible. No one was happy and smiles were rare. After 5 years there was still much grief and sorrow over the loss of their sons. No one spoke of the old ways and the honeyed sweet breads because they did not want anyone to go into the jungle again on the hopeless mission of subduing the king lion and gathering honey. The women baked bread without the traditional honey and no one complained.

Then one day a voice was heard in the village center that everyone knew and loved. When they knew what the song was saying, they tried to ignore it. It was the beautiful singing voice of Adeyemi Sofola. He also played the stringed instrument, the Karo as he sang. He was announcing to the village Elders that he wished to go into the jungle as in the former days, and bring back the fabled wild honey so that the women of the village could bake the traditional ceremonial bread once again. It was a very sad thing to him that they could no longer practice their old ways because they did not have the special honey that comes from the bees that live in the jungle. He was sure that the bees were still there and would be very glad to share some of their rare honey if we would only come and gather it.

All of the Elders and his mother and father and brothers and sisters agreed that it was just too sad to try to throw another farewell party. They feared that their little village would not survive so much grief and sorrow. So they agreed just to ignore Adeyemi and not talk to him about going into the jungle and maybe he would change his mind. But soon the day of his departure arrived and he was still firm about his decision. Now, in one last desperate attempt, everyone including his mother, and father, his sisters, and brothers, tried to change his mind.

When the time came for him to leave they watched and waited for him to strap on his armor and pick up his weapon. When they asked him, ‘Where is your weapon?’ he answered that he had no weapon. His voice would be his only protection. He would take his Kora and sing from his heart to the legendary beast of the jungle. They were all silent. Never had they heard of any such thing.

‘Never,’ say all the Elders, ‘can you defeat the strength of a wild beast with only your voice and your stringed Karo. Adeyemi, what are you thinking about? You are not behaving wisely. You will surely be killed and we will be left to mourn. Have you no respect for your mother and father? We will not be able to comfort them for the loss of their dear son with the beautiful voice.’

He listened very patiently and thanked them all and turned and headed for the jungle. When he got there he noticed that it was dark and he couldn’t see very much. But little by little it began to feel warm and inviting. He took a few steps and tried to look around.