Raven Steals the Sun

In the beginning there was no light. The world was in darkness. The people lived in the dark and bumped into things and never saw each other's faces.

In one house far up the river, an old chief kept three boxes. The first held the stars. The second held the moon. The third held the sun. He did not share them. He kept them for himself, hidden in his house, and the world stayed dark.

Raven flew everywhere. He saw what was happening. He decided he would steal the light.

He flew up the river to the chief's house. The chief had a daughter. She was beautiful and never went outside. She came down to the river every morning to drink water from the spring near the house.

Raven turned himself into a small needle of cedar and dropped into the spring. The girl bent down to drink. She did not see the needle. She swallowed it with the water. She went back to the house.

Months later, she gave birth to a boy.

The chief was confused. The girl had not been with anyone. But he loved his daughter, and he loved the boy. He could not explain him, but he kept him. The grandfather and the grandson became inseparable. The grandfather could deny him nothing.

The boy grew quickly, the way Raven's boys grow. One day he stood by the wall of the house, looking at the boxes, and he began to cry. He cried louder. He cried until the rafters shook.

"What does the boy want?" the chief asked. He was upset.

"He wants to play with the box of stars," said the daughter.

"He cannot," said the chief. "But take it down. Just for a minute. Hold it for him."

She took down the box of stars and gave it to the boy. He held it in his small arms and was happy. He played with it on the floor for a while. Then, looking like a small boy with a happy idea, he carried it out the smoke hole of the house and threw it up into the sky. The lid came off as it flew. The stars scattered out and stuck to the dark sky. They are still there.

The grandfather screamed. The boy came back in. He cried.

"Now what does he want?"

"He wants the box of the moon," said the daughter. The grandfather was angry. He shouted. He threw things. Then he calmed down. The boy cried louder. The grandfather said: "Take it down. Once. Only once. Just so he stops crying."

The daughter took the moon out of its box. She put the moon in the boy's arms. The boy played with it for a while. Then he carried it out the smoke hole and threw it up into the sky. The moon stuck there. It is still there.

The grandfather understood now what was happening. But he had one box left, the box of the sun, and he could not bring himself to give it up. The boy began to cry, terribly, ceaselessly. He cried for days. The grandfather grew sick from the noise. At last, against his will, he said: "Take down the sun. Let him touch it. He must give it back."

The daughter took down the box of the sun. She handed it to the boy. The boy hugged it. He looked at his grandfather and at his mother, and there was something almost old in his eyes for a moment. Then he changed shape. He was Raven again, big, black, with one bright black eye, holding the box of the sun in his beak.

He flew up the smoke hole and out into the dark sky. He had the sun.

He flew across the world, holding the sun. He was tired. The box was heavy. He came at last to a wide bay where there were people fishing in canoes in the dark. He cawed: "Give me a fish. I am tired."

The people did not recognize him as Raven. They said: "Who are you to ask us for a fish?"

Raven said: "I have the sun. If you do not give me a fish, I will keep the sun for myself, and you will live in the dark. If you give me a fish, I will let it out."

The people laughed at him. They said: "Show us." They did not believe him.

Raven was angry. He was hungry. He was angry. He cracked the lid of the box. The light came pouring out. It blinded the people in their canoes. It rose up and fixed itself in the sky.

This was the first day. The world had stars at night, the moon at night, and the sun by day. The people of the bay had laughed and lost their chance to barter, but the world had light.

That is how Raven brought the sun to us. He did it because he wanted to do it, and he is not all good and not all bad. He stole the light, and he kept the light for the world. The Tlingit say that, and the Haida, and the Tsimshian, in different versions of the same story. We have been able to see each other's faces ever since.