Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears - West African

My name is Mother Owl, and from my perch high in the grand baobab tree, I have watched the world for more seasons than there are leaves on its branches. The air in my jungle home is usually a vibrant symphony of sounds, a living music woven from the chattering of monkeys, the deep croak of frogs, and the constant, gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. But tonight, an unsettling quiet has descended, a silence so profound it feels like a heavy blanket smothering the very pulse of the forest. This unnatural stillness is a sign of a great wrong, a deep disturbance in the rhythm of life. It all began with a creature no bigger than my eye and a piece of foolish nonsense, a story that has been passed down through generations to caution the young and remind the old. This is the tale of Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears.

I will tell you how it all unraveled, this unfortunate tapestry woven from a single, thoughtless thread. It started with a mosquito who, seeking to feel important, flew to an iguana resting on a branch. "I saw a farmer digging yams today," she buzzed, her voice a tiny whine. "They were almost as big as I am!" The iguana, who was known for his grumpy disposition, found this boast so preposterous that he refused to listen to another word. He grumbled, found two small sticks, and plugged his ears with them. He stomped away, head held high, and in his self-imposed silence, he didn't hear the friendly greeting from a great python who happened to be slithering by. The python, a creature of habit and pride, was deeply offended by this perceived slight. "What has happened?" he hissed to himself. "The iguana is angry with me. He must be plotting some mischief! I must hide!" Filled with suspicion, he slithered quickly to the nearest refuge, which happened to be a rabbit's burrow. The rabbit, peacefully napping inside, awoke to find the long, scaled body of the python invading her home. Screaming in terror, she bolted from her burrow and fled across an open clearing. Her frantic dash startled a crow, who exploded into the sky, cawing a piercing alarm that echoed through the trees. The sharp cries of the crow reached a monkey swinging high above. Believing a great danger was upon them, the monkey began to leap wildly from branch to branch, trying to escape a threat he could not see. In his panic, he landed on a dead limb. With a loud crack, it snapped and tumbled down, down, down through the canopy, striking one of my precious owlets, who fell silently from our nest.

My heart shattered. The forest, once my sanctuary, now held only my profound grief. In my sorrow, I could not bring myself to perform my most sacred duty. I would not hoot. And so, the sun, which awaits my call each morning, did not rise. The day did not come, and the jungle was plunged into an endless, suffocating night. The darkness stretched on, and the other animals grew frightened and confused. They stumbled in the gloom, their routines disrupted, their world turned upside down. Finally, they went to the wisest and strongest among them, King Lion, and begged for his help. He listened gravely, his magnificent mane framing a concerned face. "Something is very wrong," he rumbled, his voice echoing through the silent forest. "I will call a great council. We will not rest until we uncover the reason for Mother Owl's sadness and bring back the sun." He summoned every creature, and one by one, he called them forward to unravel the mystery. The monkey confessed he had leaped in fright because of the crow's alarm. The crow explained he had cawed because the rabbit had startled him. The rabbit, trembling, told of the python appearing in her burrow. The python defended himself, explaining he was hiding because the iguana had disrespected him. All eyes turned to the iguana, who finally removed the sticks from his ears and irritably explained the whole affair started because of a mosquito's ridiculous lie about a giant yam. And there it was. The truth, finally untangled, was laid bare for all to see. A mosquito's tiny lie had caused the great darkness.

With the truth revealed, a small measure of peace settled in my grieving heart. I understood now that it was a terrible accident, a chain of fear and misunderstanding. I took a deep breath, gathered my strength, and let out a long, clear hoot that pierced the darkness. Far away, the sun heard my call and began its slow, majestic ascent, bathing the forest in the warm, golden light of dawn. The animals cheered, but their joy quickly turned to anger as they looked for the mosquito to deliver justice. But the mosquito, having overheard the entire council from her hiding place, was consumed by guilt and terror. She had vanished. King Lion declared her punishment: should she ever be found, she would be crushed on the spot. And so it remains to this day. The mosquito is an outcast, forever darting about, too afraid to show herself for long. She flits near our ears, buzzing her constant, whining question, hoping to learn if the anger has passed: "Zeeee! Is everyone still angry with me?" And the response is always the same—a swift, decisive slap. This story is more than just an explanation; it’s a powerful reminder that our words and actions, no matter how small, can create ripples that affect our entire community. It is an ancient truth that continues to teach us to live better together, even today.