The Origin of the Rainbow

Gather close, children, for this is the story of how the rainbow first painted its magnificent colors across the sky, and why it appears as a bridge between earth and heaven.

The Time Before Colors

Long, long ago, in the days when the world was young and Nyame the Sky God still walked among his people, the sky held only two colors—the brilliant gold of the sun and the deep indigo of night. Rain fell from clouds as gray as morning mist, and when storms passed, the sky simply returned to its uniform blue expanse.

In those days, all the colors of the world lived separately in the realm of Asase Yaa, the Earth Goddess. Each color dwelt in its own special place: Red glowed in the heart of flames and the centers of flowers, Orange danced in the warmth of clay pots and sunset clouds, Yellow gleamed in the rays of sunlight and fields of grain. Green flourished in leaves and grass, Blue sparkled in rivers and deep pools, Indigo dwelt in the darkness of caves and night shadows, and Violet bloomed in the rarest flowers and precious stones.

But these colors never mixed, never spoke to one another, for each believed itself to be the most important and beautiful of all.

The Great Drought

One terrible year, a drought came to the land that was more severe than any the people had ever known. The sun blazed mercilessly in the sky for month after month, and no rain fell. Rivers dried to cracked mud, crops withered in the fields, and even the mighty baobab trees began to drop their leaves.

The people prayed daily to Nyame for relief, but the Sky God seemed distant and silent. The animals of the forest gathered at the few remaining water holes, their usual rivalries forgotten in their shared desperation. Even proud Elephant and clever Anansi worked together, seeking any source of moisture they could find.

Old Akosua, the wisest woman in the village and keeper of the ancient stories, called all the people together beneath the great talking tree in the center of town.

“My children,” she said, her voice carrying despite her advanced age, “I have consulted the ancestors and the spirits of the land. This drought is not merely a lack of rain—it is a sign that harmony has been broken somewhere in the great web of existence.”

The people murmured anxiously. “But what harmony, grandmother?” asked young Kwame, whose crops had been the first to fail. “We have lived in peace with our neighbors and honored the gods.”

Akosua’s ancient eyes looked up toward the empty blue sky. “The disharmony exists not among us, but among the very forces that govern our world. The colors of creation have forgotten their connection to one another.”

The Colors’ Pride

Meanwhile, in their separate realms, each of the seven colors was indeed convinced of its own supreme importance. Red burned with passionate certainty that it was the most vital color—the color of life itself, flowing through every living being’s veins.

“Without me,” Red declared to anyone who would listen, “there would be no warmth, no passion, no life force flowing through the world!”

Orange, hearing this boast, flared with indignation. “Nonsense! I am the color of energy and creativity! I bring the warmth of fire and the beauty of sunrise. Red may claim to be life, but I am the spark that ignites it!”

Yellow laughed with the brightness of a thousand suns. “How can either of you claim supremacy when I am the color of divine light itself? I am the gold of wisdom, the illumination that drives away darkness!”

Green rustled with quiet authority from every leaf and blade of grass. “You all speak of temporary things—passion, energy, light. But I am the color of enduring life, of growth and renewal. Without me, the world would be barren stone.”

Blue responded with the deep wisdom of ocean depths. “Yet what good is growth without the rain I bring? I am the color of life-giving water, of the vast sky that embraces all things. I am peace and depth and eternal mystery.”

Indigo spoke from the shadows with profound gravity. “You all mistake surface beauty for true importance. I am the color of the depths—of deep thought, of spiritual wisdom, of the mysteries that lie beyond the veil of ordinary sight.”

Finally, Violet, rarest and most precious of all, spoke with royal dignity. “I am the color of transformation, of magic, of the bridge between earth and spirit. I am found in only the most sacred places because I am the most precious of all colors.”

The Challenge from Above

As the drought continued and the colors’ arguments grew more heated, Nyame the Sky God finally grew tired of their discord. Their quarreling was indeed disrupting the harmony of creation, preventing the rains from falling and the natural cycles from continuing.

With a voice like thunder rolling across the heavens, Nyame spoke to all seven colors at once: “Proud children of creation! Your arguments have disturbed the balance of earth and sky. Because you cannot see the beauty and necessity in one another, the rains have stopped falling and my people suffer.”

The colors fell silent, awed by the power in the Sky God’s voice.

“I will give you one chance to prove your worth,” Nyame continued. “Work together to create something beautiful enough to bridge the gap between earth and heaven. If you succeed, the rains will return, and you will all find your rightful place in the sky. If you fail, you will remain forever separated, and the drought will continue.”

The First Attempts

The colors’ first attempts at cooperation were disasters. Each tried to dominate the others, creating muddy browns and ugly grays instead of beauty.

Red tried to absorb all the other colors into itself, creating a harsh, overwhelming crimson that hurt to look at. Orange attempted to brighten everyone until they all became variations of flame that seemed to burn the very air. Yellow tried to illuminate everyone else so intensely that they became washed-out and pale.

Green insisted that everyone needed to be more natural and earthy, creating combinations that looked like various shades of moss. Blue tried to cool everyone down, making colors so subdued they barely seemed to exist. Indigo wanted everyone to be more mysterious and deep, resulting in combinations so dark they seemed to swallow light. Violet attempted to make everyone more magical and mystical, but the results were so ethereal they seemed to fade away entirely.

Each attempt ended in failure, and the drought on earth grew worse.

A Child’s Wisdom

As the colors struggled and failed repeatedly, a small voice spoke up from the earth below. It was Ama, a young girl from the drought-stricken village, whose pure heart allowed her to see beyond the physical world into the realm of the spirits.

“Honored colors,” she called out, her voice somehow carrying all the way to their celestial realm, “perhaps the problem is not that you are trying to work together, but that you are trying to become the same thing.”

The colors paused in their latest failed experiment to listen to this small earthly voice.

“Each of you is beautiful exactly as you are,” Ama continued. “Maybe instead of trying to change each other, you could stand side by side as equals, each contributing your own special gift.”

Her words carried the innocent wisdom that sometimes comes from the mouths of children, and for the first time, the colors really looked at each other—not as competitors, but as potential partners.

The Great Joining

Red was the first to humble itself. “Little Ama speaks truth,” Red admitted. “I have been so focused on proving my importance that I forgot to appreciate the beauty in my companions.”

“As have I,” Orange confessed. “Your warmth, Red, makes my energy more gentle and welcoming.”

Yellow added its light to the growing harmony. “And your vibrancy, Orange, gives my illumination purpose and direction.”

One by one, each color began to see and appreciate the unique gifts of the others. Green acknowledged Blue’s life-giving water, Blue praised Indigo’s mysterious depth, Indigo honored Violet’s spiritual transformation, and Violet celebrated Red’s vital life force.

As their appreciation for each other grew, something magical began to happen. Instead of trying to blend into one color or remain completely separate, they discovered they could stand together in a beautiful arc, each maintaining its own identity while contributing to a spectacular whole.

The First Rainbow

When the seven colors finally joined hands—or rather, joined essences—across the sky, their combined beauty was breathtaking. Red flowed into Orange, which danced with Yellow, which sang with Green, which harmonized with Blue, which deepened into Indigo, which transformed into Violet, creating a perfect bridge of color arcing from earth to heaven.

Nyame looked upon their creation and was pleased. “Behold!” his voice boomed across the land. “You have created something more beautiful than any of you could achieve alone. From this day forward, whenever the rain and sunlight meet in the sky, your rainbow shall appear as a reminder that unity does not require uniformity, and that true beauty comes from diversity working in harmony.”

The Return of the Rain

As the first rainbow painted itself across the sky, the clouds that had been absent for so many months began to gather. The sight was so beautiful that even the clouds themselves wept with joy, and their tears fell as the gentle rain the land so desperately needed.

The people of the earth looked up in wonder at this new phenomenon—bands of pure color stretching across the heavens like a bridge between their world and the realm of the gods. Children pointed and laughed with delight, adults wept with relief as the rain soaked into the parched ground, and the elders nodded with understanding.

“See how the colors do not fight for space,” old Akosua observed to the gathered villagers. “Each has its place, and together they create something none could achieve alone.”

Young Ama, whose wise words had helped the colors find their way, smiled up at the rainbow she had helped inspire. “They remembered how to be friends,” she said simply.

The Promise

From that day to this, whenever rain and sunshine meet in the sky, the rainbow appears to remind us of the lesson learned by the seven colors. Each band of color maintains its own identity and beauty while contributing to the magnificent whole.

The rainbow became Nyame’s promise to the earth—a sign that after every storm, beauty and harmony can be restored. It reminds us that diversity is not something to be feared or eliminated, but celebrated and treasured.

The colors learned to love their differences rather than fight over them, and in doing so, they created something eternal and beautiful that continues to inspire wonder in every person who sees it stretching across the sky.

And so, children, when you see a rainbow after the rain, remember the lesson of the seven colors: that we are each beautiful exactly as we are, and when we work together while celebrating our differences, we can create something more magnificent than any of us could achieve alone.

The Living Legacy

Even today, the rainbow serves as a bridge between earth and sky, between the physical and spiritual worlds. The Akan people know that when a rainbow appears, it is a good time for prayers and for making peace with those from whom we have been separated.

Some say that if you look carefully, you can still see the individual personalities of each color in the rainbow—Red’s passion, Orange’s energy, Yellow’s joy, Green’s growth, Blue’s peace, Indigo’s wisdom, and Violet’s magic—all working together in perfect harmony, just as Nyame intended when he gave them their eternal home in the sky.

Remember this story, little ones, whenever you see people of different backgrounds working together, for they are like the colors of the rainbow—each beautiful in their own way, and even more beautiful when joined in common purpose.