In the beginning, when the world was newly born and still finding its shape, the people of the lowlands lived in a twilight world of cold and fear. The sun warmed them by day, but when darkness fell, they had nothing to push back the encroaching shadows. They gnawed on raw roots and uncooked meat, their teeth chattering as they pressed close together for warmth. The night belonged to prowling creatures with gleaming eyes, and humans could do nothing but wait for dawn, trembling in the blackness.
Far above, where the mountain peaks pierced the clouds like the broken teeth of ancient giants, lived a different people altogether. The Fire People were beings of light and heat, with skin that glimmered like coals in a dying hearth. When they breathed, wisps of smoke curled from their nostrils and mouths. They moved through their mountain home with grace and arrogance, guarding the most precious thing in all creation: fire itself.
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The Fire People had possessed flame since the world’s first day, and they considered it their birthright alone. They kept it burning in stone hearths, played with its sparks like toys, and never once thought to share it with the cold, struggling people below. To them, fire was sacred not meant for mortal hands.
Among the people who lived without fire was a man named Sia. He was not the strongest hunter or the tallest warrior, but his mind moved like water finding its path through stone always clever, always searching. Sia watched his people suffer through another freezing night, saw mothers unable to soften food for their children, saw elders huddled together against the cold that seeped into their bones. His heart grew heavy with their pain.
“There must be a way,” Sia said to the gathered elders one morning. “The Fire People have more light and warmth than they could ever need. We must have fire too, or we will never truly live only survive.”
The oldest elder shook his head slowly, his weathered face grave. “The Fire People are proud beyond measure and fierce as the storm. They will never willingly share their treasure. Many have tried to approach them, and none have returned.”
But Sia’s eyes held a determined gleam. “Then I will not approach them. I will take what we need.”
For many nights, Sia watched the distant mountains. There, high above the tree line, he saw a faint red glow painting the clouds the light of the Fire People’s eternal hearth. He studied the paths of birds, memorized the shape of the peaks, and prepared himself for the journey ahead.
Before the next dawn broke, Sia set out alone. The journey tested every part of him. Thorny vines grabbed at his ankles like hungry fingers, drawing blood with each step. Mist spirits whispered warnings in voices that sounded almost human, trying to turn him back. Rivers swollen with cold mountain water blocked his path, and steep cliffs forced him to climb until his hands bled. But Sia pushed forward, driven by the memory of his people’s suffering.
After many days, exhausted and scraped raw, Sia finally reached the dwelling place of the Fire People. He crouched behind an enormous boulder, making himself small and still, and watched with wonder and envy.
The Fire People’s children played in ways human children never could. They juggled glowing embers, tossed sparks high into the air and caught them, laughing as the light danced between their hands. Adults carried torches as casually as humans might carry walking sticks. In the center of their village, a great fire roared in a stone hearth, its flames leaping and crackling with endless energy.
Sia waited, patient as stone, until the Fire People’s songs quieted and their laughter faded into sleep. The great fire still burned, but no one watched it. Moving with the silence of shadow, Sia crept toward the hearth. The heat made his skin prickle, and he had to squint against the brightness he had never been so close to flame before.
With trembling hands, he seized a burning branch, wrapping it quickly in layers of dry bark to protect it, then wrapping that in green leaves to hold in the smoke. The bundle grew hot in his arms, but he clutched it tight and ran.
He had barely disappeared into the forest when a terrible roar shook the mountain. The Fire People had awakened and seen the thin trail of smoke winding down the slope. Their fury was like thunder splitting the sky.
“The mortal has stolen our sacred flame!” they cried. “He must not reach the lowlands!”
The Fire People commanded the weather itself. Dark clouds boiled up from nowhere, and rain began to fall first in drops, then in sheets, then in torrents meant to drown the stolen spark forever.
Sia ran desperately, but water soaked through the leaves, and the bark began to steam. The flame was dying. In his panic, he saw a white bird perched in a tree a cockatoo with feathers as pure as fresh snow.
“Brother bird!” Sia gasped. “You can fly faster than I can run. Take this fire to our people, I beg you! They are depending on us!”
The cockatoo saw the desperation in Sia’s eyes and understood. He took the smoldering bundle in his claws and launched himself into the storm. Rain battered his wings, and wind tried to tear him from the sky, but the cockatoo flew on. He tucked the precious fire close beneath his wings, sheltering it with his own body. The heat singed his beautiful white feathers, burning them red and black and yellow at the tips marks he would carry forever.
Through the storm the cockatoo flew, through wind that screamed and rain that blinded, until at last he saw the village below. With his last strength, he dove down and dropped the burning brand into a pile of dry tinder that the people had prepared.
Flame exploded into life.
The people had never seen anything so beautiful. They gathered around the fire, feeling warmth spread through their bodies for the first time. Children laughed with delight. Elders wept with relief. They cooked food until it was tender and flavorful, and they danced around the flames as darkness fell, no longer afraid of the night.
The Fire People, watching from their mountain, saw the joy fire brought to the people below. Perhaps their hearts softened, or perhaps they simply knew they could not take back what had been given. They never sent another storm, never tried to steal back the flame.
From that day forward, humans kept fire burning in their hearths, learned to cook their food and warm their homes, and pushed back the fearful darkness. And the cockatoo, whose sacrifice had saved the flame, still wears the colors of fire in his feathers red and black and yellow mixed with white a living reminder of the night he carried hope through the storm.
In the highlands and islands of Papua New Guinea, when people light their cooking fires at dusk, the elders still tell this story. They teach their children to honor both Sia the clever one, who dared to dream of a better life, and the brave cockatoo who gave himself to make that dream real.
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The Moral Lesson
This ancient tale teaches us that transformative progress often requires both courage and sacrifice. Sia’s cleverness and determination, combined with the cockatoo’s selfless courage, brought light to all humanity. The story reminds us that the greatest gifts are worth striving for, that change demands bravery, and that when we work together even across the boundaries between species we can overcome any obstacle and improve life for everyone.
Knowledge Check
Q1: Who was Sia and what made him different from other people in his village?
A: Sia was a clever man who lived among the people without fire. Unlike others who accepted their cold, dark existence, Sia refused to let his people continue suffering. He was distinguished by his sharp mind and determination to find a solution, rather than simply accepting the status quo imposed by the Fire People.
Q2: What were the Fire People and why did they keep fire to themselves?
A: The Fire People were semi-divine beings who lived in the mountains, with skin that glowed like embers and smoke curling from their mouths. They guarded fire as a sacred treasure and their exclusive birthright, believing it was meant only for them and not for ordinary mortals below. Their pride and sense of superiority prevented them from sharing this life-changing gift.
Q3: Why does the cockatoo have colored feathers in its crest according to this legend?
A: According to the story, the cockatoo’s feathers were originally pure white. When he carried the stolen fire through the storm sent by the Fire People, the flames and heat singed his feathers, burning them red, black, and yellow. These colored markings became permanent, serving as a lasting reminder of his brave sacrifice in bringing fire to humanity.
Q4: What obstacles did Sia face on his journey to steal fire?
A: Sia faced numerous dangerous obstacles including thorny vines that tore his feet, mist spirits that whispered warnings trying to turn him back, swollen rivers blocking his path, and steep cliffs he had to climb until his hands bled. The greatest challenge came during his escape when the Fire People sent a torrential rainstorm to extinguish the stolen flame.
Q5: What is the cultural significance of fire in Papua New Guinea traditions based on this story?
A: In Papua New Guinea culture, fire represents not just physical warmth and the ability to cook food, but symbolizes human progress, courage, and the willingness to challenge unjust limitations. The story honors fire as a sacred gift obtained through cleverness and sacrifice, teaching that transformative change requires both intelligence and bravery. It’s a foundational myth explaining how humans gained a fundamental tool of civilization.
Q6: What does the cooperation between Sia and the cockatoo teach us?
A: The partnership between Sia and the cockatoo demonstrates that the greatest achievements often require cooperation across boundaries and the combining of different strengths. Sia provided the cleverness and daring to steal the fire, while the cockatoo provided the speed and ability to complete the mission. Together, they achieved what neither could have accomplished alone, teaching the value of mutual aid and sacrifice for the common good.
Source: Adapted from oral traditions recorded in “Myths and Legends from Papua New Guinea” (Riesenfeld, A., 1950s collections; and Papua New Guinea Legends, retold by M. Ulli Beier, 1973).
Cultural Origin: Melanesian oral tradition, Papua New Guinea
