Why the Snail Carries His House

Come close, children, and listen to the whisper of the evening breeze as it moves through the tall grass. Tonight I will tell you the story of Nwa, the snail, and how he came to carry his house upon his back. This is a tale of wisdom learned through hardship, of security found in simplicity, and of how sometimes the greatest treasures are those we carry within ourselves.

The Time When All Creatures Built Grand Houses

In the days when animals could speak as clearly as you and I, and when the forest spirits still walked openly among mortals, there was great competition among all the creatures to build the most magnificent homes. This was during the season of plenty, when fruit hung heavy on every tree and streams ran full and clear.

The animals had grown prosperous and proud, each trying to outdo the others in the grandeur of their dwellings. Ɔsebɔ the leopard built a palace of woven branches high in the mahogany trees, its walls adorned with the most beautiful spotted furs and its floors carpeted with the softest moss. Ɔsonkɔ the elephant constructed a massive compound of mud and stone, with rooms large enough for an entire extended family and decorated with ivory tusks that gleamed like captured moonlight.

Even the smaller creatures joined this competition. Ɔkraman the dog built an elaborate burrow with multiple chambers and tunnels, while Akoko the chicken constructed a magnificent coop with nesting boxes lined with the finest feathers from exotic birds.

But among all these grand builders was one small creature who seemed to care nothing for such display: Nwa the snail. He lived contentedly in a simple depression beneath a large leaf, moving slowly through his daily activities while the other animals rushed about, gathering materials and competing for the most admired home.

The Mockery of the Swift Creatures

The other animals found Nwa’s contentment puzzling and, truth be told, somewhat irritating. How could anyone be satisfied with such humble accommodations when there was clearly a competition to be won?

Adanko the rabbit, whose burrow was lined with silk stolen from spider webs, was the first to voice his disdain. “Look at Nwa,” he said, his nose twitching with superiority as he spoke to a gathering of animals near the watering hole. “While the rest of us are building homes worthy of our status, he sleeps under a leaf like a creature with no pride at all.”

Ntonto the hare, known for his speed and his sharp tongue, laughed mockingly. “Perhaps he is too slow to gather proper building materials,” he suggested. “By the time he reaches the good branches and stones, we swift creatures have already claimed them for our own fine houses.”

Ɔpetee the vulture, perched high in his nest of carefully arranged bones, called down from above. “Maybe he is simply too lazy to build anything worthwhile. After all, what can you expect from a creature who moves as slowly as the seasons themselves?”

Even Anomaa the hummingbird, usually kind-hearted, joined in the general amusement. “I have watched him,” she chirped. “He spends more time admiring a single flower than the rest of us spend building entire rooms. How can such a creature ever hope to create anything impressive?”

Nwa’s Quiet Wisdom

But Nwa, slowly making his way across a broad leaf in search of his simple meal, overheard these comments and was not troubled by them. His grandmother, Nana Nwa, had taught him many things during the long, slow conversations of his childhood, and one lesson echoed in his heart now: “True security, my grandchild, comes not from what we build around ourselves, but from what we carry within ourselves.”

That evening, as the other animals admired each other’s homes and planned even grander additions, Nwa visited his old friend Akyekyedeɛ the tortoise, whose own home was modest but comfortable.

“Grandfather Tortoise,” Nwa said in his soft, unhurried voice, “the others mock my simple ways and my lack of grand building projects. Sometimes I wonder if they are right. Should I be trying to build a palace like the others?”

Akyekyedeɛ, ancient and wise, moved his great head slowly from side to side. “Young friend,” he replied, his voice deep as the roots of old trees, “I have lived through many seasons, and I have seen many grand houses rise and fall. But I have also learned that the most secure dwelling is the one that cannot be taken from you, no matter what storms may come.”

Nwa pondered these words as he made his slow way home that night. What could Akyekyedeɛ mean by a dwelling that could not be taken away? How could any house be truly secure when fire, flood, and storm could destroy even the strongest structures?

The Coming of the Great Drought

As if summoned by Nwa’s contemplation, the season of testing soon arrived. The rains, which should have come with their usual abundance, failed to appear. Day after day, the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky, and the earth began to crack like an old woman’s parched skin.

The streams that had run full and clear began to dwindle to thin trickles, then to mere puddles, then disappeared entirely. The fruit trees that had borne such heavy loads withered, their leaves turning brown and falling like tears to the drought-stricken earth.

As the water sources dried up, the animals were forced to travel farther and farther to find drink. This meant leaving their beautiful homes unguarded for longer and longer periods. It was then that the true nature of their grand dwellings became apparent.

Ɔsebɔ the leopard, forced to travel to distant streams, returned to find his tree palace stripped of its beautiful furnishings by desperate animals seeking anything they could trade for water. Ɔsonkɔ the elephant came home from a water-seeking journey to discover that his massive compound had been invaded by families of smaller animals who had nowhere else to go as their own homes became uninhabitable.

The elaborate burrows and nests, so carefully constructed during the time of plenty, became traps when their owners had to choose between staying to guard them and leaving to find the water necessary for survival.

The Migration Begins

As the drought intensified, wise old Ɔkofo the hornbill called a meeting of all the forest creatures. “My friends,” he announced, his voice carrying the authority of age and experience, “the drought shows no sign of ending. We must migrate to the distant mountains where the springs still flow. It will be a long and difficult journey, but it is our only hope for survival.”

The animals looked at each other with growing panic. How could they carry their beautiful homes with them on such a journey? How could they protect all the treasures they had accumulated during the prosperous times?

Ɔsebɔ the leopard tried to dismantle his tree palace and carry the pieces, but quickly discovered that the beautiful furnishings that had seemed so light when arranged in his dwelling became an impossible burden when he tried to carry them while traveling.

Ɔsonkɔ the elephant attempted to load the most precious items from his compound onto his back, but found that even his great strength was insufficient to carry more than a fraction of his accumulated possessions.

Adanko the rabbit ran back and forth between his silk-lined burrow and the gathering point, trying to decide which of his treasures were essential and which could be left behind. Each time he thought he had made his final selection, he would remember some other precious item and return for it, until he was exhausted and still had far too much to carry.

The Wisdom of Traveling Light

As the great migration began, it quickly became clear which animals would survive the journey and which would not. Those who had built the most elaborate homes and accumulated the most possessions struggled under burdens too heavy for traveling. Many were forced to abandon their treasures along the path, leaving beautiful objects scattered in the dust as silent testimony to the vanity of excessive accumulation.

But Nwa, carrying nothing but himself, moved steadily forward at his own measured pace. When others rushed ahead only to collapse from exhaustion, he continued moving. When others became frantic searching for lost possessions, he remained calm and focused on the journey itself.

As the days passed and the journey grew more difficult, the other animals began to notice Nwa’s steady progress. Adanko the rabbit, struggling under a pack of silk furnishings that grew heavier with each step, called out to him.

“Nwa,” he gasped, sweat dripping from his whiskers, “how do you manage to keep going when the rest of us are collapsing? What is your secret?”

Nwa paused in his steady progress and turned his gentle eyes toward the exhausted rabbit. “I carry only what I need,” he replied simply. “Everything I require for shelter, security, and comfort travels with me always.”

Ntonto the hare, whose speed was useless when he was weighed down with the carved decorations from his burrow, overheard this conversation. “But you have no possessions at all,” he protested. “How can you speak of shelter and security when you own nothing?”

The Divine Revelation

That night, as the weary animals made camp in a rocky valley, Nyame the Sky God appeared to them in their dreams. His presence filled their sleeping minds like warm light, and his voice spoke to each according to their understanding.

To the animals burdened with possessions, he spoke of the folly of trying to find security in things that could be lost, stolen, or destroyed. To those who had mocked others for their simplicity, he spoke of the wisdom hidden in humility.

But to Nwa, Nyame spoke with special warmth and approval. “Little snail,” the Sky God said, “you alone among all the animals have understood the true nature of security. You have learned that the only possessions that truly matter are those you can carry always, that can never be lost or stolen or destroyed.”

“Because you have shown this wisdom,” Nyame continued, “I will give you a gift that will make your understanding visible to all creation. From this day forward, you will carry with you always the perfect home, one that will shelter you from sun and rain, protect you from enemies, and provide comfort wherever you may travel.”

As Nyame spoke these words, Nwa felt a strange warmth spreading across his back. In his dream, he could see a beautiful spiral shell forming there, cream-colored and brown, strong yet light, perfectly shaped to fit his body and provide complete protection.

The Morning of Transformation

When Nwa awakened, he discovered that the dream had been reality. Upon his back rested the most perfectly designed home any creature had ever possessed—a spiral shell that was both fortress and shelter, beautiful and practical, protective yet not burdensome.

The shell was perfectly balanced, its weight distributed so that it actually helped Nwa maintain his stability as he moved. Its spiral chambers provided not only space for his body but also storage for water and food during difficult times. Its polished surface was naturally waterproof and could seal completely when protection was needed.

Most wonderfully of all, the shell grew with him and could be repaired by his own body if damaged. It was truly the perfect home—one that could never be lost, stolen, or destroyed as long as its owner lived.

The Recognition of True Wisdom

When the other animals saw Nwa’s magnificent new home, their attitudes changed completely. No longer did they mock his lack of grand constructions or accumulated possessions. Instead, they gathered around him in wonder and respect.

“Nwa,” said Ɔsebɔ the leopard, his voice filled with new humility, “I see now what you understood all along. The most beautiful home is not the one that impresses others, but the one that truly serves its owner’s needs.”

Ɔsonkɔ the elephant nodded his great head in agreement. “And the most secure dwelling is not the largest or most heavily fortified, but the one that can never be separated from its owner.”

Adanko the rabbit, who had finally abandoned his burden of silk furnishings by the roadside, approached Nwa with tears in his eyes. “I understand now why you were never troubled by our mockery,” he said. “You possessed something far more valuable than any of our grand houses—the wisdom to distinguish between what is truly necessary and what is merely impressive.”

The Continuation of the Journey

With his perfect shell home, Nwa completed the migration easily. When they reached the mountain springs and the time of drought finally ended, the other animals began rebuilding their homes. But this time, their approach was different.

They remembered the lesson of the great migration and the wisdom they had seen in Nwa’s way of living. Their new homes were simpler, more practical, built with an understanding that true security comes not from accumulating possessions but from developing the wisdom to distinguish between needs and desires.

Many animals asked Nyame to grant them shells like Nwa’s, but the Sky God explained that each creature must find their own path to security and wisdom. The shell was Nwa’s gift because it perfectly matched his nature and his understanding. Other creatures would receive different gifts appropriate to their own lessons and their own spiritual development.

The Teaching That Endures

And so it is, my children, that to this day, when we see the snail carrying his beautiful spiral home upon his back, we remember the wisdom he teaches us. His shell reminds us that true security comes not from what we can build around ourselves, but from what we can develop within ourselves.

The snail teaches us that the most valuable possessions are not those that impress others, but those that truly serve our deepest needs. His home cannot be stolen by thieves, destroyed by storms, or taken away by those more powerful than himself. It is always with him, always exactly the right size, always perfectly suited to his requirements.

In our human lives, we can learn from Nwa’s example. The “shell” we need to develop is made not of calcium and protein, but of wisdom, resilience, adaptability, and inner peace. These are possessions that travel with us always, that grow stronger with use rather than weaker, that cannot be lost or stolen or destroyed by any external force.

The Modern Application

When we face our own times of drought and difficulty, when we must make our own journeys through challenging circumstances, we can ask ourselves: What are we trying to carry that merely weighs us down? What possessions do we cling to that prevent us from moving forward? What would we lose if we were forced to travel with only what we truly need?

The snail reminds us that a simple life is not a poor life if it is rich in wisdom, peace, and the ability to adapt to changing circumstances. Better to have few possessions that truly serve us than many possessions that we must constantly work to protect and maintain.

Moreover, Nwa teaches us about the danger of mocking others whose ways we do not understand. The other animals looked only at the surface of his life and saw poverty where there was actually profound wisdom. How often do we make the same mistake, judging others by external appearances rather than recognizing the deeper understanding they may possess?

The Blessing of the Shell

This is why, when we encounter snails in our gardens and paths, we treat them with respect and gratitude for the lesson they carry. Their slow, steady progress reminds us that speed is not always a virtue, that sometimes the most reliable way forward is the careful, measured pace that allows us to remain aware of our surroundings and make wise decisions.

Their willingness to retreat into their shells when danger threatens teaches us the value of knowing when to engage with the world and when to withdraw for reflection and protection. There is no shame in seeking shelter when we need it, no weakness in taking time to restore ourselves before facing new challenges.

And their ability to emerge from their shells refreshed and ready to continue their journey reminds us that periods of withdrawal and reflection should prepare us for renewed engagement with life, not become permanent escape from its challenges.

So when you see a snail tomorrow, my children, remember the story of Nwa and his journey to wisdom. Remember that true wealth lies not in what we own, but in what we understand. Remember that true security comes not from building walls around ourselves, but from developing the inner resources that allow us to thrive in any circumstance.

And remember that sometimes the greatest treasures are those that others cannot see—the wisdom carried in the heart, the peace cultivated in the soul, the understanding that comes from learning to distinguish between what we want and what we truly need.

Nwa kra ne fie - The snail carries his home.

This ancient saying reminds us that our true home is not a place but a state of being, not a building but a way of understanding our place in the world. Like Nwa, we can learn to carry with us always everything we need for a rich and meaningful life.