Long ago, in a highland village beneath the snowy crown of Ausangate, there lived a young woman named Yura who was known for her weaving. Her blankets shimmered like sunrise; her shawls told stories of rain and maize. The elders said her hands were blessed by Pachamama, Mother Earth herself.
But one season, the rains failed. The llamas wandered far for grass, and the villagers whispered, “The mountain spirits have turned away.”
The priest of the temple called for offerings of silver and song, but Yura said, “Perhaps they no longer hear us because we’ve forgotten to speak in their language.”
“What language is that?” mocked the priest.
“The language of patience,” Yura answered. “The language of making something beautiful when all you have is hardship.”
She went to her hut and began a new tapestry — one thread at a time. It was to be her greatest work, showing the whole valley, from the dark mines below to the snow fields above.
Each morning, she climbed to a ridge and whispered to the mountain, “Show me your colors.” The wind answered with flurries of gold dust, and she spun them into her thread.
Days turned to weeks. Her fingers bled, her back bent, but she worked without complaint. The villagers mocked her. “A weaving won’t bring rain!”
Still she wove.
Then one night, as she fell asleep beside her loom, she dreamed of a tall figure cloaked in snow — Apu Ausangate, the mountain spirit himself.
“You have woven my skin,” he said, touching the fabric. “Each thread sings my name. What do you wish in return?”
“Rain,” she whispered, “for the people. And faith, for their hearts.”
The spirit smiled. “Faith comes from work, not wishes. But rain—rain I can give.”
He reached into his cloak and shook the stars from his sleeves. They fell as silver rain upon the tapestry, soaking it. When Yura woke, the valley roared with thunder.
The rains had returned.
When the villagers came running, they found her tapestry hanging from her hut — alive with light. The mountains glowed upon it, and from its edges dripped tiny beads of water that never dried.
They begged her to sell it to the temple, but Yura refused. “Beauty is not for sale,” she said. “It’s for remembrance.”
The tapestry still hangs in the village today. When mist rises, it’s said the pattern changes — showing the faces of those who still work with quiet faith.
Moral of the Story
Patience and creation are prayers that never fade. Work done with heart becomes its own offering.
Knowledge Check
- Who was Yura?
A Quechua weaver who wove beauty during drought. - What problem faced the village?
The rains stopped, causing famine and fear. - Who appeared to Yura in her dream?
Apu Ausangate, the mountain spirit. - What gift did he give her?
Rain for the valley and blessing for her tapestry. - What was special about the tapestry?
It shimmered with light and dripped eternal water. - What message did Yura teach her people?
That faith and beauty can restore hope better than silver or songs.
Origin: Quechua Folklore (Peru)
