Once upon a time, there was a wicked witch. She killed animals in the jungle, and used their fat to make potions that she sold in the village. The poor unsuspecting women didn’t know what went into these wonderful potions that the witch made, all they knew was that these potions worked like magic, so they bought them in droves and encouraged their friends to buy them too.
The witch became rich because of these potions. She moved into the main village and used her money to bribe the village elders, so that they would turn a blind eye to the ruckus she was causing in the jungle.
The village got their water from the jungle river, but the river was starting to get filled up with the dead bodies of the animals. They complained to the village elders, but since they had joined the witch they simply advised the villagers to boil the water before drinking, and chided them for letting their kids play near the river, saying it was the children throwing rocks in the river that was the problem.
When the children complained about the dead animals, they were told not to play there, that the animals were killing each other, that the animals were the problem.
Still nobody knew that it was the wicked witch, who pretended to be a good, wise person, helping people out. She even went so far as to bring water in from another village, and sell it in bottles to the people who could afford it.
When the poor asked “What about us?” They were told to continue to use the boiled water from the polluted river, and how that would be useful in improving their immunity, and not be lazy and ask for handouts.
The houses in the village were starting to smell, because of the water they were using. Diseases were spreading, because even the jungle had started to stink.
Still the potions sold, still the witch made money. She now could get fancy materials from far away lands to stitch her clothes out of, she bought gemstones to adorn her clothes, and many ornaments. She grew fat on good food. Everybody wanted to work in the witch’s house because she gave free water to the people who worked for her.
Everyone spoke about how wonderful she was because she opened a school for the village kids, where they were taught how to work in her factory. Other factories were opened to manufacture benches and chairs out of wood from the jungle, and coats made of animal fur, although everybody was assured that the fur was taken from animals that were already dead.
Friends of the witch were well–favored and taken care of. The noble classes of people fought with each other to garner favour from her, and vilified the people who complained. Anybody who spoke against the witch would be hung from a tree in the very jungle that people now tried to avoid going into, that now nobody talked about.
The real problem was forgotten. The witch became an important part of the economy of the village. The real problem became the sick people, because they were pulling the village down. The real problem became the old people who couldn’t work anymore. The real problem became that people weren’t productive enough, that they didn’t want to work, that they didn’t care enough about the growth of the village and only thought about themselves.
One day, a stranger from a far away village came to visit. He commented on the smell. People said, “What smell?”
He wondered why the kids looked so small and weak, people said, “What are you talking about? These are the healthiest kids in the world.”
He wondered why there were so many people who didn’t have houses, people said, “They’re too lazy or sick or old to work, that’s just natural selection.”
He wondered why nobody cared anymore. They got angry. They said, “Of course we care. We care for our village. We care for our Witch who takes care of us, we haven’t lost our empathy, but now it’s only reserved for the ones who earn it.”
He said, “But that’s not how it is in the village I come from. They’re happy there, the children play freely, the men and the women work for the village, and the village provides for them. They have enough food, and their water doesn’t stink. And they all work for themselves, can’t you see that this entire village is serving just one woman? Can’t you see how she’s worked her insidious magic on all of you? She’s got you all hating each other while she grows fat on your money. Can’t you see?”
He was asked to leave the village, and not poison the minds of the good people here. He was reminded that their Witch was the richest Witch in all the known lands, that they served a good cause and that the other villages were jealous of them and their Witch.
Some people listened, though. They went with him to his village, and were shocked at how differently the people there lived.
Unfortunately, the Witch’s village had gone too far to be saved. Where nobody could see the problem, and those who saw it and spoke about it were put in the Witch’s special jail.
Some people left, though, to live better lives in other villages, and though they mourned the loss of their own village, they never went back.
I tried hard to think of a way to end this story well, but unfortunately the ending of this story hasn’t been written yet.
The secret, of course, is love. These villagers will have to fall back in love with their old, with their sick, with their kids. The villagers will have to rediscover their love for their forest. Through love, the deception will become clear, through love they will fight the Witch and her minions, because only through love will they find the strength and the self-sacrifice required to defeat the greed that has led to the downfall of the village.
