A story
The Sleepy Camel and the Busy Ants
On the edge of a great sandy desert, near a caravan town, there lived a young camel named Jamal. Jamal had soft brown fur, long eyelashes, and big padded feet. He was handsome and strong. But Jamal had one habit that worried everyone. He loved to sleep.
He slept in the morning when the other camels were carrying water. He slept at noon when they were carrying dates. And in the evening, when the caravan master called, "Time to load the salt!" Jamal would yawn and say, "Tomorrow. I will work tomorrow."
The other camels sighed. "Jamal," said old Mother Nakha, the wisest camel in the herd, "a camel who does not prepare will one day be sorry."
"Prepare for what?" yawned Jamal. "The sun is warm. The water trough is full. Life is easy." And he folded his long legs under him and went back to sleep.
Not far from where Jamal liked to nap, there was a tiny hill of sand. It did not look like much, but it was the home of a busy family of ants. Every day, all day, the ants marched back and forth in neat lines. They carried seeds. They carried crumbs. They carried tiny bits of leaf many times bigger than themselves.
One afternoon, Jamal opened one sleepy eye and watched them.
"Little ants," he said, "why do you work so hard? The sun is shining. Why not rest, like me?"
The leader of the ants, a small but sturdy ant named Namla, stopped and looked up at him. "Because the dry season is coming," she said. "When it comes, there will be no seeds and no leaves. If we do not gather now, we will have nothing then."
Jamal laughed. "The dry season is a long way off. You worry too much."
Namla did not argue. "Perhaps," she said politely. "But we would rather be ready." And she marched on with her seed.
Weeks passed. The other camels worked. They helped the caravan master fill great clay jars with water and store them in the cool cellar. They carried bales of dry grass into the shade of the stables. The ants worked too, filling their underground rooms with seeds.
And Jamal slept.
Then, one morning, the wind changed. It blew hot and dry from the deep desert. The little stream near the town shrank to a trickle and then disappeared. The grass turned yellow and then brown and then crumbled into dust. The dry season had come early.
The camels went to the stables, where the bales of grass were waiting. They drank from the clay jars in the cellar. They were tired from all their work, but they were not hungry, and they were not thirsty.
Jamal went to the stables too. "May I have some grass?" he asked.
The caravan master scratched his beard. "There is only enough for the camels who carried it, Jamal," he said, not unkindly. "We stored what we gathered. You did not gather."
Jamal's tummy rumbled. He walked out into the hot sun. The trough was empty. The ground was bare. For the first time in his life, Jamal felt truly worried.
He lay down near the ant hill, feeling very sorry for himself. A tear ran down his long eyelashes and fell, plop, into the sand.
"Jamal?" said a tiny voice. It was Namla the ant. "Why are you crying?"
"Because you were right," Jamal sniffed. "And Mother Nakha was right. Everyone was right except me. I slept when I should have worked, and now I have nothing."
Namla was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "We cannot feed a camel. You are much too big for our seeds. But I know something that might help."
"What?" asked Jamal.
"When we were gathering seeds, we found a hidden valley behind the red rocks, a day's walk from here. There is a spring there that never dries, and green bushes all around. We did not tell anyone, because nobody asked us. But it is too far for us to share with the whole herd alone. It needs someone big and strong to carry water back."
Jamal lifted his head. "I am big and strong," he said slowly. "I could carry water. If I worked."
"Yes," said Namla. "You could."
So Jamal got up. He went to Mother Nakha and the caravan master and told them about the hidden valley. Then, for the first time in his life, Jamal asked for work.
The caravan master tied water skins to Jamal's saddle. Namla rode on top of his head to show him the way. They walked all day across the hot sand, past the red rocks, until they found the valley, cool and green with a bubbling spring.
Jamal drank. He ate the green leaves. And then he filled every water skin to the top and carried them all the way back to the town.
He did it again the next day, and the next, and the next. His legs ached. His back was tired. But every evening, when he saw the other camels drinking the fresh water he had brought, Jamal felt proud in a way that sleep had never made him feel.
When the rains finally returned, Jamal was a changed camel. He still liked a good nap, of course. But now he napped after his work was done, not instead of it.
And every year, before the dry season, Jamal was the first camel at the stables, carrying grass and filling jars. As he passed the little ant hill, he would bend his long neck down and say, "Good morning, Namla. Getting ready?"
And Namla would wave a tiny leg and say, "Always, my friend. Always."
The lesson: Work hard while there is time, and prepare today for what tomorrow may bring.
He slept in the morning when the other camels were carrying water. He slept at noon when they were carrying dates. And in the evening, when the caravan master called, "Time to load the salt!" Jamal would yawn and say, "Tomorrow. I will work tomorrow."
The other camels sighed. "Jamal," said old Mother Nakha, the wisest camel in the herd, "a camel who does not prepare will one day be sorry."
"Prepare for what?" yawned Jamal. "The sun is warm. The water trough is full. Life is easy." And he folded his long legs under him and went back to sleep.
Not far from where Jamal liked to nap, there was a tiny hill of sand. It did not look like much, but it was the home of a busy family of ants. Every day, all day, the ants marched back and forth in neat lines. They carried seeds. They carried crumbs. They carried tiny bits of leaf many times bigger than themselves.
One afternoon, Jamal opened one sleepy eye and watched them.
"Little ants," he said, "why do you work so hard? The sun is shining. Why not rest, like me?"
The leader of the ants, a small but sturdy ant named Namla, stopped and looked up at him. "Because the dry season is coming," she said. "When it comes, there will be no seeds and no leaves. If we do not gather now, we will have nothing then."
Jamal laughed. "The dry season is a long way off. You worry too much."
Namla did not argue. "Perhaps," she said politely. "But we would rather be ready." And she marched on with her seed.
Weeks passed. The other camels worked. They helped the caravan master fill great clay jars with water and store them in the cool cellar. They carried bales of dry grass into the shade of the stables. The ants worked too, filling their underground rooms with seeds.
And Jamal slept.
Then, one morning, the wind changed. It blew hot and dry from the deep desert. The little stream near the town shrank to a trickle and then disappeared. The grass turned yellow and then brown and then crumbled into dust. The dry season had come early.
The camels went to the stables, where the bales of grass were waiting. They drank from the clay jars in the cellar. They were tired from all their work, but they were not hungry, and they were not thirsty.
Jamal went to the stables too. "May I have some grass?" he asked.
The caravan master scratched his beard. "There is only enough for the camels who carried it, Jamal," he said, not unkindly. "We stored what we gathered. You did not gather."
Jamal's tummy rumbled. He walked out into the hot sun. The trough was empty. The ground was bare. For the first time in his life, Jamal felt truly worried.
He lay down near the ant hill, feeling very sorry for himself. A tear ran down his long eyelashes and fell, plop, into the sand.
"Jamal?" said a tiny voice. It was Namla the ant. "Why are you crying?"
"Because you were right," Jamal sniffed. "And Mother Nakha was right. Everyone was right except me. I slept when I should have worked, and now I have nothing."
Namla was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "We cannot feed a camel. You are much too big for our seeds. But I know something that might help."
"What?" asked Jamal.
"When we were gathering seeds, we found a hidden valley behind the red rocks, a day's walk from here. There is a spring there that never dries, and green bushes all around. We did not tell anyone, because nobody asked us. But it is too far for us to share with the whole herd alone. It needs someone big and strong to carry water back."
Jamal lifted his head. "I am big and strong," he said slowly. "I could carry water. If I worked."
"Yes," said Namla. "You could."
So Jamal got up. He went to Mother Nakha and the caravan master and told them about the hidden valley. Then, for the first time in his life, Jamal asked for work.
The caravan master tied water skins to Jamal's saddle. Namla rode on top of his head to show him the way. They walked all day across the hot sand, past the red rocks, until they found the valley, cool and green with a bubbling spring.
Jamal drank. He ate the green leaves. And then he filled every water skin to the top and carried them all the way back to the town.
He did it again the next day, and the next, and the next. His legs ached. His back was tired. But every evening, when he saw the other camels drinking the fresh water he had brought, Jamal felt proud in a way that sleep had never made him feel.
When the rains finally returned, Jamal was a changed camel. He still liked a good nap, of course. But now he napped after his work was done, not instead of it.
And every year, before the dry season, Jamal was the first camel at the stables, carrying grass and filling jars. As he passed the little ant hill, he would bend his long neck down and say, "Good morning, Namla. Getting ready?"
And Namla would wave a tiny leg and say, "Always, my friend. Always."
The lesson: Work hard while there is time, and prepare today for what tomorrow may bring.
