THE BUSHBABY WHO GUARDED THE NIGHT

The Bushbaby Who Guarded the Night
Long before the moon learned how to shine softly, before the owls mastered their songs, the forest belonged to silence. In those days, the night was dangerous—not because of beasts, but because darkness had no guardian.
In a small village at the edge of the forest lived a tiny creature the people hardly noticed: the bushbaby, called Aganjú. With eyes like glowing embers and ears that caught whispers from the roots of trees, Aganjú spent his days sleeping inside hollow trunks and his nights leaping from branch to branch. Though small, his heart was brave, and his spirit was older than the forest itself.
One night, the darkness grew heavier than usual. The wind refused to move, and the crickets fell silent. From the deepest part of the bush came Okúrun, a shadow spirit that fed on fear. Wherever Okúrun passed, children woke crying, hunters lost their way, and fires went out on their own.
The village elders beat the talking drum, calling for help, but no spirit answered. The leopard hid. The python coiled in fear. Even the moon dimmed its face.Only Aganjú heard the crying of the night.
He followed the sound into the forbidden grove, where roots twisted like snakes and the air smelled of old secrets. Okúrun rose before him—tall, formless, and cold as death.
“Go back, small thing,” the spirit hissed. “You are too little to matter.”
But Aganjú did not run.
Instead, he leaped.
He jumped higher than he ever had, clapping his hands in rapid rhythm—kpá! kpá! kpá!—a sound so sharp it pierced the darkness. His glowing eyes reflected the moonlight, multiplying until it seemed a thousand bushbabies surrounded the spirit. Confused, Okúrun stumbled, shrinking with every echo of sound.
Aganjú leaped again and again, faster, louder, until the forest itself woke up. The trees shook, the owls cried out, and the moon returned in full silver strength. Overwhelmed by noise and light, Okúrun dissolved into mist, banished back into the deep earth.By morning, the village was safe.
The elders found tiny footprints around the grove and knew what had happened. From that day on, they said:
“When you hear a bushbaby cry at night, do not fear.
It is not a warning—it is a guard at work.”And so, the bushbaby became the keeper of the night, small in body but mighty in spirit, watching over the forest while the world sleeps.
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