Long ago in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho, a special friendship developed between Hawk, a bird of the air, and Hen, a bird of the earth. Hawk loved to visit Hen. Whenever he came down to earth to talk to Hen, she would stop whatever she was doing, flap her little rust-red wings and cackle and cackle as she listened to Hawk. They were very good friends.
Now, Hawk had a treasured possession that no other bird in the kingdom owned. It was a shiny, silver needle and he kept it carefully hidden in his home high up on the mountain ridge. Hen knew about this needle and one day when Hawk was visiting her, she asked:
‘Dear Hawk, please may I borrow your needle?’
‘Whatever do you want to do with my needle?’ asked Hawk in astonishment.
‘I’d like to sew a new blanket for myself. The summer is nearly over and it gets so cold when the snow covers the mountains.’
‘Dear Hen,’ said Hawk. ‘You know it is the only needle amongst all the birds, what will happen if you lose it?’
‘I promise I won’t, Hawk,’ pleaded Hen. ‘I’ll only use it myself and take very special care of it. If I lose your precious needle, you can have something precious of mine.’
‘And what is that?’ Hawk asked.
Hen paused for a moment and thought about what was dearest to her in all the kingdom. And, knowing that she would certainly guard Hawk’s needle with her life, offered him one of her most treasured possessions.
‘A chick,’ Hen answered confidently. ‘One of my precious, little children.’
‘Fine,’ agreed Hawk. ‘That is a fair exchange. Your young chicks must surely be as special to you as my needle is to me, so I know you will look after it well.’
Hawk took off into the clear blue sky with his strong wings and Hen watched until he was but a little black dot in the distance. Then she gathered together her little skins and laid them out – ready to start patching them together to make her blanket. She was so happy to think that she would soon have a Hlosi, a magnificent skin blanket fit for a chief or one of his wives.
When she looked up into the sky again, Hen saw Hawk already making his way back to her from his mountain-top home. In his strong, hooked beak he carried his gleaming needle. With a promise to take good care of it, Hen took the needle and Hawk flew off in search of breakfast. Hen threaded the needle with a long thread and using fine stitches, she carefully sewed her skin blanket. When it was finally finished, she wrapped it around her and showed it to her family.
‘You look more beautiful than any other hen on earth,’ said her family. This pleased Hen and made her feel very proud. She walked up and down, showing off her new blanket. She felt like a very special person, as grand as the wife of a chief in her new Hlosi, and was so flattered when fowls that she didn’t even know came up to her and said: ‘Hen, you look very beautiful. Just like the chief’s wife.’
When all the hens in the village had seen her blanket, Hen quickly called together all her chicks and said:
‘I do not want my new blanket to get dirty. Please clean the house for me. Gather the dirt together and put it all on the fire heap so that it is ready to be burnt.’
Then Hen went strutting off to show her new blanket to the hens who were working in the fields. So proud was she. She even forgot all about Hawk’s needle.
Hen’s little chickens cleaned her straw house from top to bottom, swept the floor and threw all the dust onto the fire heap as they had been told to do. ‘Mother will be pleased with us,’ they chirped. ‘There is not a speck of dust anywhere.’
But Hawk’s precious needle was hidden amongst the dirt …
The hens weeding the fields admired Hen in her new blanket. ‘You look so radiant, Hen; as beautiful as one of the chief’s wives’ they remarked.
All the compliments had gone to Hen’s head and she strutted home proudly, forgetting the words of her forefathers who said: Pride comes before a fall.
Suddenly, as Hen was following the little path through the grass that led to her home, she saw a large dark shadow on the ground in front of her. She recognised her dear friend, Hawk, but she had forgotten all about his needle and the promise she had made to him.
Swooping down to the ground, Hawk said: ‘Hen, do you realize how proud you have become in that smart blanket of yours?’
She giggled and, taking no notice of him, kept on walking along the path. Then Hawk said to his friend: ‘I have come for my needle, so I can put it back in its very special place.’
Hen jumped. She got such a fright. She suddenly remembered the promise she had made to Hawk and the price she would have to pay if she lost his precious needle. She didn’t say a word but hurried back to her little house.
When she arrived home, she saw that the floor was spotlessly clean. There was not even a speck of dirt on the floor. There was no needle either. She looked everywhere for it.
‘It must be on the fire heap,’ she said, running outside. She ran as fast as she could to the edge of the village, where the fire heap was still smouldering. Hawk hovered above Hen, watching her as she searched through the fire heap, desperate to find the missing needle.
Hen could see the worry in Hawk’s penetrating eyes and she scratched and scratched, frantically looking for the lost treasure. She didn’t even notice that her blanket had fallen off her back and it lay in the ashes on the fire heap.
Hawk flew off to give her a little time, but when he swooped down again from the sky, Hen knew he had come to take her chick. She moaned and groaned in anguish. She ran to protect her children, rucking them safely under her wing. But Hawk was not an unreasonable friend, and he flew off again so that Hen could scratch around in the dirt a little longer. When he had disappeared the chicks went back to scratching for food.
Hen clucked and cackled and was a little relieved, but she was still worried. Not long ago she had felt like the wife of a chief, but now she was nothing. She didn’t even know where her new Hlosi was, and she felt like a mother who could not even protect her own young.
‘I have to find Hawk’s needle, I must find it.’ she cried out aloud.
The hens in the village were worried about her. She looked so distressed. Hen told them what had happened and they felt very, very sorry for her. They were mothers too, and understood how she felt. So they helped her look for Hawk’s needle. They looked in the long grass, they looked along the dirt paths. They even looked through the fire heap again. No-one could find the needle.
Then, as Hawk flew over them, he cast his sprawling dark shadow across the paths of the hens and they shrieked in terror. They were very frightened. There was no guarantee that Hawk would not take one of their children.
‘Chicks, come quickly and hide under our wings,’ they cried to their children.
They never found the needle. No, never. It was lost forever. Hawk was so disappointed and angry that he never again visited Hen. Their friendship had been lost and was replaced by fear and distrust. Fear and distrust.
The Sotho Blanket
Because winters in Lesotho, the traditional home of the Sotho people, is so cold and snow covers the mountains, the Sotho blanket has become the national costume of its people and is still worn by many Sotho today, particularly those living in rural communities in and around Lesotho. The colours and designs of these blankets change with fashion, and may even vary between different age groups. A Sotho man traditionally wears his blanket pinned across his right shoulder, while a Sotho woman wears her’s pinned across her breast. These brilliantly coloured and beautifully patterned blankets may be decorated with a wide variety of different symbols and designs.