The Land of Ginger lay in the shadow of The Great Molasses Volcano on the island of New Guinea. It was a farming community, run completely by little ginger beings.
Not for a whole century, had any being with a heart-beat, successfully crossed what had been dubbed, “The Molasses Annihilation Zone”…or for short, The MAZ. The zone had a heavy melancholic vibration pulsing through it like a cursed heartbeat. Stories of endeavours to cross The MAZ were well spread. Apparently anyone who’d stepped foot in the area had been engulfed by a despondency so ferocious, that they’d gone mad on the spot. Some even died instantly from a ravenous misery that instantly diseased their mind and bodies.
One day, a wandering nomad paced the edges of The MAZ. He’d been collecting spices in the Maluku Islands, an archipelago within Indonesia, and had made his way to New Guinea to trade his spices for some coffee beans. The MAZ however, produced a hurdle for him. You see he was heading towards a coffee farm in the Highland Province of Chimbu, and it would be much faster to reach his destination by straight-lining it through the centre of The MAZ. If he sidled the edges of The MAZ, it would add an extra day to his travels, such was the enormity of The MAZ area.
- The nomad entered The MAZ.
- The nomad took 5 steps forward.
- The Nomad fell to the ground.
Madness and misery consumed every atom, every DNA strand, every molecule within his body. There he collapsed. There he died.
However, from this forlorn story, a sunbeam of blessedness gleams through.
The nomad’s spices were blown across The MAZ and they embedded themselves into the ground. Up from the rubble, a forest of spice trees began to bloom. The nomad must have been carrying cinnamon, cloves and cocoa beans, for it is these trees that stretched their tendrils skyward until they stiffened into long branches of trees four metres tall. And as the trees grew, a magical thing occurred. The aromatic spices warmed the air and soil of The MAZ, cleansing the area of its melancholy with a wild, unexplainable alchemy. The curse of the forlorn MAZ area was lifted.
The Ginger-Men built their homes amidst the Cinnamon, Clove and Cocoa trees. They farmed the spices that the trees so generously produced, and made a profitable living selling them to the New Guinean people.
Another century passed.
Stories of the The Molasses Annihilation Zone were forgotten. The Molasses Volcano, became nothing but a shady summit, where frolicking Ginger-Men went for recreational activities: hiking, abseiling and base-jumping being some of the favourites.
It was a century of fruition and prosperity for both the Ginger-People and the cinnamon/clove/cocoa loving New Guineans.
The tremor escalated into a ground splitting shake and scolding hot molasses spewed forth. Sadly the festival came to an end, it could not survive hotter then hot molasses.
In fact, every Teen-Ginger at the festival, did not survive.
Dead as a doorknob they were…sorry to be blunt, but it’s the reality of the situation.
The molasses careened down the volcano’s slopes taking out every Ginger-Being in it’s path. Pretty soon, the whole community and it’s aromatic forest, was drowning in a boiling hot bath of molasses.
The Ginger-men and Ginger-Families were wiped out once again.
There is however, a happier…and might I add tastier…ending to this tale.
When the blistering heat of the ginger-spiked molasses belted into the spice trees, a magical transformation took place. The trees exploded into cookies…honest to God!
At the time of the last eruption, no cinnamon, clove or cocoa trees grew from the land. The aromas and powers of these herbs enabled this spicy but sweet metamorphis to take place. And instead of turning the grounds into another Molasses Anihilation Zone, it turned them into a sweet field of Chocolate, Ginger, Clove and Molasses Cookies.