Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears

Long ago, when animals could speak freely with humans and all creatures lived in harmony, there was a mosquito named Ntonto who was known throughout the forest for two things: her tiny size and her enormous appetite for gossip.

Ntonto was not content to simply live her life quietly like other insects. She buzzed from animal to animal, from tree to tree, collecting every whisper, every secret, every private conversation she could find. Then she would fly to others and share what she had heard, usually adding her own embellishments to make the stories more exciting.

“Did you know,” she would buzz to the rabbit, “that the elephant said you have the biggest ears in the forest? He also mentioned that you’re probably too scared to race anyone!”

“Oh really?” the rabbit would reply, his ears twitching with annoyance.

Then Ntonto would fly to the elephant and say, “The rabbit is telling everyone that you’re too slow and clumsy to catch anything, even a leaf falling from a tree!”

The elephant would trumpet indignantly, “Is that what he said?”

In this way, Ntonto stirred up trouble between friends, caused arguments between neighbors, and generally made life in the forest much less peaceful than it had been before.

Most of the animals learned to ignore Ntonto’s gossip, but there was one conversation she overheard that was too important and too dangerous to spread carelessly.

It happened on a day when Ntonto was hiding in the leaves of a great mahogany tree, listening to a conversation between the Sky God Nyame (who was visiting the earth in disguise) and the Guardian Spirit of the forest.

“The balance of nature is becoming disturbed,” Nyame was saying in a voice like distant thunder. “Too many animals are fighting with each other instead of living in harmony. If this continues, I may have to take drastic action to restore peace.”

“What kind of action?” asked the Guardian Spirit.

“I am considering calling upon the great flood spirits,” Nyame replied gravely. “If the animals cannot learn to live together peacefully, perhaps the earth needs to be washed clean and started fresh.”

This was serious news indeed—the kind of information that could either help the forest animals change their ways or cause widespread panic if shared incorrectly.

Ntonto knew she should be careful with such important information. She should perhaps tell the wisest animals first—the elephant, the tortoise, the owl—and let them decide how to share the news with others.

But Ntonto was so excited to be the first to know such dramatic news that she couldn’t wait. She flew immediately to the first animal she saw, which happened to be a young, excitable monkey.

“You’ll never believe what I just heard!” she buzzed in the monkey’s ear. “Nyame is planning to flood the entire world because the animals are fighting too much!”

The monkey’s eyes went wide with terror. “A flood? When? How much time do we have?”

“Oh, very soon, I think,” Ntonto said, enjoying the drama of the moment. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe even tonight! You’d better warn everyone immediately!”

The panic-stricken monkey swung through the trees, screaming to every animal he encountered, “Flood coming! Nyame is sending a flood! Everyone run to high ground!”

The news spread like wildfire through the forest. Animals abandoned their homes, parents frantically gathered their children, and everyone began rushing toward the hills in complete chaos.

The wise old tortoise tried to calm everyone down. “Wait,” he called out. “Let’s think about this rationally. Where did this information come from?”

“From the monkey!” shouted several animals.

“And where did the monkey hear it?” the tortoise asked.

“From Ntonto the mosquito!” the monkey replied.

The tortoise’s ancient eyes grew stern. “And has anyone actually confirmed this with Nyame himself? Or with any of the spirits?”

In all the panic, no one had thought to verify the information. The tortoise sent the wise owl to seek out Nyame and ask about the supposed flood.

When the owl found the Sky God and respectfully inquired about the flood, Nyame’s expression grew dark with anger.

“I spoke of the possibility of a flood as a last resort if the animals could not learn to live in peace,” Nyame said. “But I never said it would happen soon, and I certainly never made any final decision. Who has been spreading these rumors?”

When Nyame learned that Ntonto had eavesdropped on his private conversation and then spread distorted versions of what she had heard, causing unnecessary panic throughout the forest, his anger was terrible to behold.

He summoned Ntonto before him, and the tiny mosquito found herself facing the full majesty and wrath of the Sky God.

“Little insect,” Nyame said in a voice that made the trees tremble, “your love of gossip and your carelessness with important information has caused great harm today. Families have been separated, homes have been abandoned, and fear has replaced peace in my forest.”

Ntonto tried to defend herself. “But Great Nyame, I was only trying to help by warning everyone—”

“You were trying to make yourself important by being the first to share dramatic news,” Nyame interrupted. “You took a serious conversation and turned it into panic-inducing gossip. You violated the privacy of a sacred discussion, and you added your own interpretations to what you heard.”

Ntonto realized the gravity of her mistake and began to tremble with fear.

“Because you have shown that you cannot be trusted with the power of speech,” Nyame continued, “I am taking away your ability to communicate clearly with other creatures. From this day forward, the only sound you will be able to make is a tiny, annoying buzz.”

“But how will I talk to others?” Ntonto asked in horror.

“That is exactly the point,” Nyame replied. “You have proven that when you talk to others, you cause harm. So you will no longer have that ability.”

“And furthermore,” the Sky God continued, “because you seem to enjoy getting close to others to hear their private conversations, you will be compelled to fly near people’s ears, where you will buzz annoyingly but where they will be able to swat you away if they choose.”

“For how long?” Ntonto whispered.

“Forever,” Nyame said firmly. “And every mosquito that comes after you will carry the same punishment, so that all creatures will remember the danger of careless gossip and the importance of respecting others’ privacy.”

From that day forward, Ntonto could only buzz—a tiny, irritating sound that made people want to swat her away rather than listen to what she had to say. She was drawn irresistibly to people’s ears, where she would hover and buzz, trying desperately to communicate but only managing to annoy.

All mosquitoes since then have inherited this same punishment. They buzz around people’s ears, trying to tell them things but only creating irritation. Some say that if you listen very carefully to a mosquito’s buzz, you can sometimes hear the echo of Ntonto’s regret for the day her gossip caused so much trouble.

The other animals learned an important lesson from Ntonto’s fate. They became much more careful about sharing information, always checking sources and considering consequences before passing along news. They learned to respect each other’s privacy and to think before speaking.

And whenever young animals are tempted to spread gossip or share information they shouldn’t, the elders remind them of Ntonto’s story—how a tiny insect’s big mouth led to a lifetime of being unable to say anything meaningful at all.

The buzz of the mosquito serves as an eternal reminder that words have power, that privacy should be respected, and that the urge to be first with news should never override the responsibility to be accurate and thoughtful in how we share information with others.