CUTIS & Baby Monkey Secretly Harvest Banana Leaves to Do Special Thing

The sun had barely risen over the hills when the air was still cool, and a faint mist clung to the rice paddies. Farmer CUTIS stretched his arms, yawning as he stepped onto the veranda of his small wooden house. His eyes swept over the garden, the fields beyond, and the towering banana trees at the far edge. Somewhere in the branches, he could already hear a faint rustle—the kind of rustle he knew very well.

“Monkey…” he murmured with a smile.

Baby Monkey, as everyone called the little creature, wasn’t just any wild animal. CUTIS had found him months ago, weak and frightened, clinging to a broken bamboo fence after a heavy storm. Since then, the little fellow had become his shadow, following him around the farm, learning everything from watering plants to opening the feed shed door. But what CUTIS never expected was that Baby Monkey would develop a peculiar fascination with banana leaves.

And so began their little secret project.

It started one afternoon when CUTIS had been weaving banana leaves into makeshift plates for a neighbor’s outdoor feast. Baby Monkey had sat beside him, watching intently, his tiny hands feeling the texture of the leaves, his curious eyes darting from CUTIS’s work to the pile of fresh green leaves nearby. The next morning, CUTIS had found a neat stack of leaves by the kitchen door—too neatly arranged to have fallen naturally. That’s when he realized the monkey had picked them himself.

Today was different, though. Today, their banana leaf gathering had a purpose beyond cooking or weaving plates. They were going to make something special—something for the village’s mid-harvest celebration.

By mid-morning, CUTIS was already standing at the edge of the banana grove. Baby Monkey perched on his shoulder, nibbling a bit of sweet potato CUTIS had given him for breakfast.

“You ready, little buddy?” CUTIS asked in a whisper.

The monkey chirped softly in reply.

The harvest had to be done carefully. Banana leaves were delicate; one wrong fold or tear could ruin them for what they had planned. CUTIS reached for the first broad, green leaf, his machete slicing cleanly at the base of the stem. Baby Monkey hopped down, grabbing the leaf tip and dragging it towards the shaded pile they had made.

They worked like that for over an hour. CUTIS would cut, and Baby Monkey would carry—sometimes dragging a leaf twice his size, determined not to let it touch the dirt too much. Occasionally, he would stop and swat away a curious chicken or sniff a dewdrop clinging to the leaf’s edge.

Once they had enough, CUTIS gathered the pile, tied it together with a length of old jute rope, and hoisted it over his shoulder. Baby Monkey clung to the back of his shirt as they made their way home.

On the veranda, CUTIS laid out the leaves on a clean bamboo mat. Baby Monkey sat beside him, watching his every move.

The special thing they were making was a set of giant banana-leaf mats, stitched and pressed together to form decorative covers for the festival tables. The mid-harvest celebration in the village was more than just a party—it was a time when neighbors shared food, sang songs, and gave thanks for the crops. The tables would be loaded with roasted fish, sticky rice, and tropical fruits, and CUTIS wanted to surprise everyone with something beautiful and eco-friendly.

Baby Monkey helped in his own way. Whenever CUTIS needed a fresh leaf, he would scamper over, choose one, and place it in front of CUTIS like an assistant in a craft workshop. Sometimes he tried folding the leaves himself—usually ending in a wrinkled mess that CUTIS would gently set aside with a chuckle.

“Close, but not quite, little one,” he’d say, patting the monkey’s head.

The afternoon wore on, and soon their work began to take shape. Large panels of banana leaves, their shiny green surfaces catching the light, were lined neatly on the veranda floor. CUTIS used thin strips of bamboo to stitch the edges, while Baby Monkey sat on the finished sections, testing their durability by bouncing up and down.

By sunset, they had finished. The veranda was filled with the scent of fresh banana leaves, and the panels looked almost too beautiful to use. CUTIS stacked them carefully and covered them with a clean cloth to keep them from drying out overnight.

Baby Monkey, exhausted from the day’s work, curled up beside the stack, using one folded leaf as a pillow. CUTIS smiled, his heart warm with pride and affection.

The next morning, CUTIS and Baby Monkey loaded the banana-leaf mats onto his cart and headed to the village square. People were already busy setting up stalls and decorating the open space. Children ran around with paper lanterns, and the smell of grilled meat filled the air.

When CUTIS arrived, he quietly began laying out the banana-leaf mats on the long wooden tables. At first, no one noticed—but then one of the women preparing food gasped.

“Oh! Where did these come from? They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, running her hand over the smooth, green surface.

“CUTIS made them,” another man said. “And I bet that monkey helped!”

Baby Monkey puffed out his tiny chest at the attention, clinging to CUTIS’s shoulder like he understood every word. Soon, a small crowd had gathered, admiring the handiwork. Someone suggested they keep the mats for future festivals, and another said they should take a group picture with them.

CUTIS just smiled. He didn’t tell anyone about the secret trips to the banana grove or the careful selection of each leaf. That was something only he and Baby Monkey knew—a quiet bond formed over shared effort and purpose.

When the celebration began, the tables looked stunning under the lantern light. The banana leaves reflected the warm glow, making the food look even more inviting. Guests from nearby villages commented on how unique and festive it all felt.

As people ate, laughed, and sang, Baby Monkey sat on CUTIS’s lap, nibbling on pieces of fruit and occasionally reaching out to touch the leaves as if checking they were still there. Every now and then, CUTIS would lean down and whisper, “We did good, didn’t we?”

And the little monkey would give a contented chirp, his bright eyes glimmering in the firelight.

Later that night, after the festival wound down and the stars stretched across the dark sky, CUTIS carried Baby Monkey home. The cart was lighter now without the leaf mats, but his heart felt heavier—in the best way possible. He knew that what they had done wasn’t just about decoration; it was about adding a little more beauty, a little more care, to something the whole community could enjoy.

As they walked up the path to their home, CUTIS could hear the gentle rustle of banana leaves in the breeze. Somewhere, more leaves were growing, ready for the next secret mission.

Baby Monkey, half-asleep on his shoulder, clung tighter, perhaps dreaming of their next adventure. And CUTIS smiled, knowing that whatever it was, it would be just as special—because they’d be doing it together.