THE TAPESTRY OF FABLES

A GRASS THAT ROSE TO GRACE

He was called Weed. Nobody knew what else to call him. Most of the plants in the forest got their names by the  fruits they bore: the orange tree, mango tree, guava tree and paw paw tree. The tall heavy trees were named so for their heights: the Iroko and the Obeche.

This was a time when the forests were numerous on the earth and men few.

All the plants in the forest had their names by their uses, but nobody knew what to call this plant. He wasn't as tall as the Iroko, he bore no fruits like the mango trees and he was no flower either. He was just a big bushy and clumpy mass of leaves. He looked like a grass, but not one anyone knew of.

All grasses had names and uses —this one didn't!  So everyone called him Weed.  Men say weed when they mean unwanted or a nuisance, but when a plant is called weed by its own kind; it takes a deeper and more painful meaning.

So the name stuck,  for even the plant himself didn't know his name,  as there were no plants like him in the forest.

As Weed grew in the forest amongst other plants, he wondered who and what he was.

He wished he was as beautiful and colorful as the flowers, so he asked them, "Why do you have lovely leaves and smell so nice?  How can I be like you?"

The flowers scoffed at him, " Your leaves are like blades, your looks are plain, you lack the grace of we flowers. You can never be like us."

Saddened by this, he asked the fruit trees,  "Oh fruitful trees,  how lovely are your fruits that delight men and animals, how can I be like you?"

The trees laughed at him, "Where are the branches you have to bear such fruits? You cannot be like us."

Disappointed he turned to the tall Irokos, "Oh! Mighty trees, with heights that reach the sky, how can I be like you?"

The Iroko trees roared in laughter, "Where is your mighty and tall stem that you may reach the skies? Go away you cannot be like us."

Weed was sad for he couldn't be like any of the other plants.

And so season after season, while the flowers blossomed and the trees bore fruits, Weed was sad and remained ever lonely, seeking his purpose and place.

Like many things, his time finally came.  Sicknesses fell upon the children of the nearby village.  A  fever caused by the deadly mosquitoes.
So the men sort far and near, for herbs to cure them.

The wood of the Iroko could not cure the children, the sweet juice of the fruit trees was no use, no fragrance of flowers could work.

The medicine men searched and tried the various plants of the forest and yet the children worsened and their mothers wailed, while their fathers grew heavy at heart.

One day, a group of men stumbled upon Weed. They, like the plants of the forest had never seen any like him before. They said amongst themselves,  "He smells like a lemon, yet as bushy as the grass."

The men took the leaves from Weed and made an elixir. They gave it to the sick children.

Needless to say,  the children were cured and joy returned to the village.

The men took Weed and planted him in their farms, around their homes to serve as a herb.

No more was he called Weed but Lemon grass: the potent herb that defeats malaria.
He became an ingredient in many elixirs. Brews from his leaves healed the sick, revived strength and became the tools of medicine makers.

Now, Lemon grass, no more called Weed had found his purpose. By comparing himself with others, he neglected his worth and saddened himself, but by finding his purpose, he realized that although he wasn't as beautiful as the flowers or as sweet as the fruits;  he was special and important too.
Just like you, dear reader.

Today, if you are walking around  you might find Lemon grass swaying his leaves in the wind happily, content to be himself.

A lesson we should learn, for we men are like the plants of the forest, different from each other, but each beautiful, useful and wonderful in its time, place and of course purpose.

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