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In the small village of Loquin lived a young girl named Sira. She loved talking about other people. Every morning, she would sit under the big mango tree in the center of the village. Her sharp eyes saw everything, and her mouth repeated every rumor she heard.
One day, an old woman passed by her.
“Sira, don’t you ever get tired of talking?”
“Why would I get tired?” she replied with a laugh. “In this village, I have to know everything.”
She talked about everyone—the chief’s wife, the traders, even the young girls looking for husbands. Because of her gossip, she had broken relationships and destroyed homes.
Her father, Papa Sira, a gentle and hardworking man, often warned her.
“Sira, my daughter, words are like seeds. If you plant bad seeds, you will harvest bad fruit.”
But she only laughed and shrugged.
“It’s just words, Papa. Nothing bad will happen.”
Papa Sira would shake his head and not insist.
Baba Jimo, the village herbalist, often watched her in silence from his veranda. He spoke little, but every time she spread a rumor, he would shake his head gravely.
One evening, Sira noticed a little girl named Ami sitting alone near the river, looking sad. She almost asked what was wrong, but then changed her mind.
Another day, at the market, she saw Ami selling little yams.
She leaned toward a woman sitting under the mango tree and whispered, “Did you know Ami’s mother was a thief?”
“A thief?” the woman asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Sira said with a sly smile. “She used to steal from the village shops before she died. That’s why people don’t like Ami.”
People began pointing at Ami and shaking their heads when she passed. Ami heard the murmurs, dropped her yams, and ran crying toward the river. Her sobs echoed all through the village.
Sira heard someone say that Ami had cried all day after hearing what people were saying about her. But Sira only laughed.
“She’s too sensitive.”
Sira did not stop. She felt more and more powerful.
This time, she invented rumors about her stepmother, Mama Lina, and her daughters Lina and Far. She claimed that Mama Lina put spoiled meat into their soup at the market.
The women were shocked and refused to buy from her. The stand remained empty. Everywhere, people whispered behind Mama Lina’s back. With tears in her eyes, Mama Lina saw this and came to Sira.
“Sira, why are you doing this? My daughters and I work hard. Why make up such lies?”
Sira crossed her arms.
“I’m only repeating what I hear.”
Mama Lina looked at her for a long time, her eyes filled with sadness and something even deeper than disappointment. Then she turned and left.
That night, Sira heard whispers under her window. They were faint, but very clear. It was her own words coming back to her.
Ami’s mother was a thief.
The next morning, Sira woke up with a strange feeling. Her lips were slightly swollen. She did not pay attention and went back under the mango tree.
There, she said that Babazik, an elder in the village, was secretly seeing another woman. Then she added that the chief’s ex-wife had stolen gold from the palace before disappearing.
But with every piece of gossip, her lips became heavier. People began to notice.
“Is Sira sick?”