While the Lalaikan people of ancient Micronesia knew nothing of Linnaeus or the microscope, they knew where the caterpillar went and where the butterfly came from. It was a story whispered to newborns as they nursed and to the old before they lay their heads down for a final rest.
It was Nayeli’s favorite story, and she made her mother tell it to her every night before she went to sleep. Every night, her mother would tease her, saying, “Ai, Nayeli, that is a story for babes and you are a big girl now, getting bigger every day. Almost too big to hold even. Don’t you want to hear another story?” And Nayeli would crawl into her mother’s lap and say, “I may be getting big, but I will always be your little girl and will always want to hear the butterfly story.”
One day, Nayeli followed her older brother and his friends across the island to their secret grove. Kaiyel, her brother, did not really want her tagging along, but his mother had insisted, and so he blindfolded his little sister and made her promise three times to not reveal the location of their secret grove, and the little bunch made their way across the island.
Nayeli thought they must have walked round the island three times over, and Kaiyel was none too gentle in leading her through the jungle underbrush, but finally they arrived. When the blindfold was taken off, Nayeli opened her eyes to the most amazing sight—the little grove was filled with the most vibrant colors that would shift and move and flutter every few seconds. She soon realized that the dancing colors were butterflies, hundreds of butterflies, and clapped her hands and laughed in delight.
“Dammit!” The other boys joined Kaiyel in cursing, taking obvious pleasure in the ugly verbal explosions. Nayeli covered her eyes and shut her eyes.
When she looked up, she saw the boys taking giant whacking swings at the butterflies with branches they had cut from the trees. Kaiyel had caught a handful and was delighting in pulling the wings off each one before stamping the remaining bit underneath his sandals. Nayeli shrieked and tried to stop them, but they were bigger and stronger and pushed her away.
Nayeli watched the boys’ cruelty turn into a contest from where she had fallen. Kaiyel boasted that he had already killed three hundred and the other boys hurried to match his malice. Soon the ground was littered with crushed bodies and tattered wings, the colors that had danced in the air only moments before were now muddied and bruised. Kaiyel and his friends were wearied from their brutal spree and left to begin the long walk home. As Nayeli started to follow them, she noticed one lone survivor tangled up in the remains of its fallen brothers. It was smaller than its brothers and struggled to free itself, trying to beat a wing that was bent. She picked it up as gently as she could and unbent its wing. She whispered to it and then placed it on a flower, as carefully as she could, and hurried off to catch up with her brother.
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