It happened long ago when the earth was fresh and new. It happened in a place between the sea and the mountains. And this is how it happened.

Big sister Manzandaba put her brothers and sisters to bed around the night-fire.

“Go to sleep, little ones,” she said.

But they weren’t sleepy yet. “A story first, Manzandaba! Tell us a story first!” they begged.

A story? Manzandaba didn’t know any stories. She asked her father, Zenzele. He had come to sit beside the fire too.

But Zenzele shook his head. “We have no stories, my daughter,” he said. “In all my years on earth, I have never heard a single story.”

Where would she find a story for her brothers and sisters, Manzandaba wondered. Whom could she ask? The Wind, perhaps? He might help.

For in those early days, humans were able to speak with others: with the Wind and the Sea and the River, with the many animals that roamed the grasslands and forests.

Yes, thought Manzandaba. The Wind always whispered high in the treetops. Perhaps it was stories that he whispered?

“Little ones,” said Manzandaba, “Tomorrow I will find a story for you. Tomorrow night, around the fire, I will tell you a story. This I promise.”

Her brothers and sisters nodded in the firelight. One by one, they fell asleep.

As the sun rose, Manzandaba set out to find the Wind.

But the day was calm. There was no rustling through the river reeds. No grains of sand stirred on the seashore. So Manzandaba climbed into the mountains, up to the cave where the Wind lived.

“Oh Great Moya,” she said into the darkness of the cave, for ‘moya’ was the Zulu name for the wind. “Do you have a story that I can tell my brothers and sisters?”

“Hawu!” said the Wind. “Why do you bother me when I am resting? A story? What do I know of stories? I am too busy blowing, too busy moving from place to place. When do I have time to listen to stories?”

But Manzandaba did not give up. She had promised her brothers and sisters. She would keep her promise.

“Oh Great Moya, advise me then. Whom can I ask?”

There was silence in the dark cave, a long silence.

Then the Wind spoke at last. “Perhaps Mother Elephant will have a story. Yes, she has a good memory and she has many children and grandchildren. You will find her deep in the Ravine Forest. That is where I last saw her.”

The Ravine Forest was a frightening place, filled with strange noises. Its trees stood taller than six grown men and shut out the sunlight.

Manzandaba struggled forward between rough branches, fighting her way through the creepers. How would she find Mother Elephant?

But instead, it was Mother Elephant who found her.

“Hawu!” exclaimed Mother Elephant. “Almost I stepped on you! What are you doing here, little human? This forest is no place for a girl-child!”

Manzandaba had to look up so high that her neck hurt.

Tell us: Would you do anything you could for your brothers and sisters?