In a quiet village nestled at the base of a great mountain lived two men who could not have been more different.
One was Anansi, the clever and crafty spider known across the land for his endless tricks and schemes. He lived modestly, his small hut leaned sideways from years of neglect, his clothes were torn and faded, and he never lifted a finger unless it benefited him. He believed wit should take the place of work.
The other man was called Nothing, a strange name, to be sure, but it did not reflect his true worth. Nothing was tall, soft-spoken, and humble. Though his name was empty, his life was full. He owned great lands, elegant garments of velvet and silk, and a magnificent palace filled with beauty and wealth. Most importantly, he had a kind and generous heart.
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One day, news spread through the land: the king of a neighbouring village had announced that his daughters would marry men who could prove themselves worthy. The challenge was open to anyone, regardless of rank or wealth. Suitors were to arrive in person and demonstrate their character.
Hearing this, Anansi licked his lips at the thought of marrying into royalty. He saw the king’s daughters as his ticket to luxury and power. Meanwhile, Nothing, who had no need for more riches, chose to go simply out of curiosity, and perhaps, quietly, for love.
Before their journey began, Anansi spotted Nothing in a rich velvet robe, stitched with golden thread. Jealousy twisted in his gut. His own clothes were rough and dusty.
“Friend,” said Anansi slyly, “surely that robe must be stifling in this heat. Why don’t we switch clothes for the journey? Just until we arrive.”
Nothing, ever generous, agreed without question. He handed over his regal attire and slipped into Anansi’s worn cotton tunic. Anansi promised to return the robe at their destination.
But once on the road, Anansi delayed. “It’s too dusty here,” he said one day. “Let me wear it a little longer.” Then, “It might rain.” And finally, “We’re almost there—what’s the point now?”
By the time they reached the king’s village, Anansi shone like royalty in velvet, while Nothing looked like a beggar. The villagers were quick to judge. They swarmed Anansi, assuming he was a nobleman. The king’s daughters and their attendants admired his appearance and flattered him.
But when Nothing entered the courtyard, the people laughed. “What beggar dares to marry a princess?” they sneered. No one gave him a second glance—except the youngest daughter. She saw not his clothes, but his eyes. She noticed the dignity in his quiet voice and the gentleness in his hands. Against all expectations, she chose him.
Anansi, meanwhile, was chosen by two of the king’s daughters, seduced by his outer glamour. He returned to his broken hut with them and filled their ears with lies about his “grand estate” that was somehow being “renovated.”
Months later, the king decided to visit each daughter to see how they lived. He began with the youngest.
To his shock, he found her residing in a glorious palace surrounded by gardens, music, and joy. She and her husband, Nothing, welcomed him with grace and gratitude. The king was pleased.
But when he visited the other daughters, he found them crammed into a crumbling hut with leaking roofs and crooked doors. Anansi scrambled to explain. “There was a fire! Thieves! Construction delays!” But the king saw through it all.
Humiliated and angry, Anansi burned with envy. He could not accept that the man he had mocked and deceived, Nothing, was now living the life he desired.
Driven by jealousy, Anansi devised a plan. He dug a deep pit along the road that led from his hut to the palace. He sharpened wooden stakes and placed them inside. He covered the trap with branches and leaves, hiding the danger beneath.
Then he sent a messenger to Nothing, inviting him for a visit.
Nothing, trusting as ever, came without suspicion. As he walked down the path, he stepped onto the branches, fell into the pit, and was fatally wounded.
When word of his death reached the palace, the youngest daughter wept bitterly. She prepared mashed yam, her husband’s favourite dish, and gave it freely to children in the village. As she sat mourning, tears streaming down her face, the children asked, “Why do you cry?”
“I cry for Nothing,” she replied softly.
And so, from that day forward, whenever someone—especially a child—cries without reason, people say:
“They are crying for nothing.”
Story Source:
This story comes from the Ashanti people of Ghana, whose folktales about Anansi the spider are known across West Africa and the Caribbean. These stories have long been used to teach moral lessons through wit, irony, and symbolism.
Moral Lesson:
True wealth is measured by character, not appearance. Envy leads only to destruction.
The tale reveals the dangers of judging people by their clothing or title. Though Nothing appeared poor, he was rich in integrity and kindness. Anansi’s desire to appear important without earning it caused him to betray a good man and ultimately live in shame. It teaches that jealousy corrupts the heart and that appearances are often deceiving.
The story also honours humility, illustrating that quiet goodness can win true love and lasting respect—while deceit only builds illusions that eventually collapse.
Knowledge Check
- Who had more wealth at the beginning of the story, Anansi or Nothing?
Nothing was much richer, with lands, fine clothes, and a palace. - How did Anansi deceive Nothing?
He borrowed his fine robe under false pretenses and never returned it. - Why did the king’s youngest daughter choose Nothing as her husband?
She saw his inner goodness and kindness, not his ragged clothing. - How did Anansi cause Nothing’s death?
He dug a pit filled with sharp stakes and tricked Nothing into falling in. - What is the meaning of “crying for nothing”?
It comes from the wife mourning Nothing’s death while feeding children, and her reply when asked why she cried. - What is the central moral of the story?
That envy can destroy what kindness builds, and real worth lies in character, not appearances.
