UNDER THE MOONLIGHT OLA TAPPED THE PALMWINE

THE PALMWINE TAPPER

In the village of Agbọnilẹ̀, where tall palm trees touched the sky and red earth warmed bare feet, lived a young man named Ola, the most skillful palmwine tapper the land had ever known. Every dawn, before the rooster finished its second call, Ola tied his rope, lifted his gourd, and greeted the palms as if they were old friends.“Give sweet wine today,” he would whisper, patting the rough trunks.Ola’s palmwine was special—fresh, foamy, and alive with laughter. Elders said it tasted like sunshine, and travelers swore one cup could wash away sorrow. But Ola was not proud. He shared freely, especially with the old, the poor, and strangers passing through the village.One dry season, trouble came. The palms stopped flowing. Gourds hung empty, and the village grew restless. Without palmwine, festivals were dull, marriages delayed, and spirits low. Some villagers accused Ola.“You have offended the spirits of the palms,” they said.
“Or maybe you have grown greedy,” others whispered.Hurt but determined, Ola went deep into the forest where the oldest palm stood—Igi-Ayé, the Tree of Life. There, he met a bent old woman with eyes as bright as stars. She leaned on a staff carved with palm leaves.“Why do you disturb the silence, young tapper?” she asked.Ola bowed. “My village is suffering. If I have done wrong, teach me.”The woman smiled. “The palms are tired. They give, but humans only take. Promise respect, and they will flow again.”She instructed Ola to pour the first gourd of every day back onto the earth, singing a song of gratitude. Ola agreed without hesitation.From the next morning, Ola changed his ways. Before selling or sharing, he poured palmwine at the roots of the trees and sang softly. Slowly, the palms responded. Wine flowed sweeter than before, and the village rejoiced.When Ola returned to thank the old woman, she was gone. In her place stood Igi-Ayé, taller and greener than ever.From that day on, Ola was no longer just a palmwine tapper. He became Ola, Keeper of the Palms, teaching the village that nature listens—and rewards those who give respect before they ask.

And till today, in Agbọnilẹ̀, people say the palmwine