Here's a story I wrote for another, uh, story. It was written as a bedtime story a father told his daughter. It didn't quite fit in the story. At all, really. I'm not sure how successful a story it is on its own, either. Of course all the stuff about Mali and the Sahara are actually from the father's POV, not mine. So, please, don't take this as my personal feelings on Mali and its people.

I was going to rewrite it a bit, clean it up a bit, but then I thought screw it. I did cut a few references to the daughter and made it a little less dad-telling-his-daughter-a-story-ish. No one is going to read it anyway. So here it is. For no one.

Good evening. You look all snug and comfy in your bed. Bet you feel nice and warm under the covers, don’t you? Well, tonight’s story doesn’t come from a book, so there are no pictures for me to show you, you’re going to have to see the words, see the pictures, on your own. Close your eyes. Just try to see the what I am saying. It’s not hard. Ready?

What I see is sand. Hills and valleys full of sand. And a deep blue sky. Can you see that? Now open your ears and listen to the history of a certain man and what he did to help others.

In the deserts of Mali, there is no water to drink.

Mali is a part of the Sahara, one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. It is so dry nothing grows there. For miles and miles all anyone can see is sand. And for miles and miles there is not a drop of water to drink. Water, as I’m sure you know, is why we are all here on this planet. We are all water people. It’s good for everything. We can drink it. We can cook with it. We can swim in it. It keeps us alive. Well, unfortunately, not everyone has enough to drink. That’s a bad thing.

A long time ago a man set out from Mali to look for water for his people. When he left, his name was Nabo the Foolhardy. No one believed in him. They all thought they had seen the last of Nabo. He wandered the desert for a long time, finding nothing, nothing at all. 

Until one day he found a frog. 

Frogs, you see, are full of good things, even though people may tell you different. You can’t get warts and they can’t get stuck in your throat. They're harmless and they’re special. He watched this frog for hours, until, as the sun began to sleep, the little frog hopped away. But the frog had left something behind. No, no, it’s not what you think. You know what that frog left behind? 

Water. 

Water in the sand that had seeped from its skin. So, Nabo the Foolhardy grabbed all the frogs he could find. Now, this wasn’t easy mind you. There just are not that many frogs in the desert. In fact, it was a task that took him several years, but he managed to collect enough frogs for a little experiment. And you know what he did with all those frogs? 

He took them for a walk. 

He walked long and far, through sand and dry river beds where the mud was too thick to drink for humans but the frogs soaked up all the moisture,all the water that was still in the mud and then when he saw that the dry river bed was even dryer than when he started he picked up one frog, brought it to his lips, and squeezed. Not too hard, though, he didn’t want to kill the kind frog, but he squeezed just hard enough that water came spilling through the frog’s skin. And Nabo drank and drank until his thirst was quenched. 

Then, he smiled. 

He gathered up all his frogs and went back home. When the villagers saw him coming over a hill, they rejoiced and then they laughed. They rejoiced that he was alive but they laughed, for they saw what was following him. As Nabo came down the hill, he was followed by hundreds and hundreds of frogs. A few of the people didn’t laugh. A few screamed “It’s the plague, the plague” and ran away forever. But Nabo calmed the rest and answered all their questions and showed them the miracle of the frogs. 

No longer was Nabo known as the Foolhardy. He was Nabo the Great and he lived a long, happy life as a hero to his people. 

Today, if you go to the center of Mali, you’ll find Nabo’s Frog Farm, a fenced-in, tarp-covered pen holding thousands of hopping frogs, one for each member of the village. One frog supplies enough water for one person for an entire year! That’s how the people of Mali have survived for a thousand years.