One Roti, Two Friends

Bunty the monkey had one roti.

One warm, round roti, soft as a cloud and big as his two hands together.

“Mmmm,” said Bunty’s tummy. “All mine.”

But just as Bunty opened his mouth — swish! — along the branch came Gilli the squirrel.

Gilli looked at the roti. Gilli’s tummy rumbled. Grrrl.

“Half for you,” said Bunty, “and half for me.”

Tear! went the roti. Now there were two pieces.

And do you know? The roti tasted sweeter than before.

But just as they opened their mouths — flap! — down to the branch came a crow, black and glossy.

The crow looked at the roti. The crow’s tummy rumbled. Grrrl.

“Some for you,” said Bunty, “and some for you, and some for me.”

Tear! went the roti. Now there were three pieces.

Smaller and smaller. Sweeter and sweeter.

The monkey munched. The squirrel nibbled. The crow pecked, peck peck peck.

Three tummies, all full of the same warm roti. Three friends, all sitting on the same wide branch, swinging their feet in the afternoon sun.

“Mmmm,” said Bunty’s tummy.

And it did not say all mine.

It said all of us.