Tipingee — A Haitian Fairy Tale of Cleverness and Friendship Retold

Once upon a time, in a Haitian village not too far removed from the present day, there lived a young girl named Tipingee, whose life was marked by hardship and sorrow. Her father had passed away, leaving her in the cruel hands of her stepmother—a woman who had mastered the art of selfishness and greed.

Each day, Tipingee’s hands grew raw from scrubbing floors, peeling vegetables, chopping wood, and performing every tedious chore that her stepmother refused to do. Every coin earned, every morsel of food, was hoarded by the stepmother. She viewed Tipingee not as family, but as a servant to exploit.

One day, as the stew boiled on the hearth, the flames in the fire pit began to sputter and die. The stepmother screeched through the house, “WOOD! I need wood! Where is that useless girl?”

But Tipingee was at school, learning as much as she could despite her weariness. Enraged, the stepmother stomped out in search of firewood herself. She wandered until she found a seemingly abandoned field stacked high with ready-cut logs. But how could she carry it all home?

As she pondered, a shriveled old man appeared, his back hunched, his face like crumpled parchment.

“You seek help?” he asked.

She sneered, doubtful of his strength. But with a tap of his walking stick, the scattered logs leapt into neat piles, then onto his back. She was impressed—but the old man wanted payment.

A cruel idea slithered into her mind. She would pay him not with money, but with Tipingee.

“Come to my house,” she said, “and tomorrow, at the village well, you will find a girl in a red dress. Her name is Tipingee. She will be your payment.”

Tipingee, returning early from school, overheard everything from her window. She was terrified—but determined. That night, she crept from her house and tapped on the windows of all her friends.

“Tomorrow, wear red,” she whispered. “And when he calls ‘Tipingee,’ say that is your name too.”

The next morning, the old man arrived at the well, calling, “Tipingee!” One by one, dozens of girls in red dresses stepped forward, each claiming, “I’m Tipingee!”

Frustrated, the old man grew red with rage and stomped off, thwarted.

But the stepmother was not done. When the old man returned, she promised him that Tipingee would wear black the next day—a mourning color for the husband she had lost.

Once again, Tipingee gathered her friends, and in the morning, a sea of girls in black stood waiting. Again, the old man was fooled and infuriated.

Determined, he returned to the stepmother, who promised, “Tomorrow she’ll wear her finest dance dress, her hair adorned with bright ribbons.”

That night, Tipingee warned her friends again. The next day, at the well, girls dressed in vibrant dance clothes, with hair braided and tied with colorful ribbons, gathered. Every time the old man cried “Tipingee!” another girl twirled forward with a grin.

They danced and sang:

“I’m Tipingee! You’re Tipingee! We’re Tipingee too!”

Humiliated, the old man stormed back to the stepmother’s house. But this time, he didn’t ask. With a single stomp of his stick, he cast a spell. The ground shook, and in an instant, the stepmother was swept onto his back, screaming in protest.

No one ever saw the old man or the wicked stepmother again.

Tipingee, now free, reclaimed her father’s house, his belongings, and even the stepmother’s secret savings. She continued her studies, grew strong, and was surrounded by friends who had helped her in her hour of need.

She lived a happy life, respected by her community, and her story became a reminder that unity and cleverness can outwit even the darkest plots.

Moral of the Story

When we stand together, even the most cunning villains can be defeated. Cleverness, courage, and the strength of friendship can outsmart cruelty and greed.