African Storytelling: Lessons and Entertainment

In the old days in Africa, we taught ourselves values ​​through stories. We had many stories. So we used all the methods we could. Some stories were songs that told of the heroic battles of our heroes. We had heroes that everyone in the community could relate to. We had animal stories through which we told our children about the virtues of life such as honesty, honor, loyalty, and courage. The animals represented different things and concepts. For example, from my part of the world, we had turtle stories that were portrayed as cunning, cunning, sometimes funny, but always with an underlying lesson for us. It was normal that every afternoon, after the day’s work, they would sit by the fireplace or under a big tree and listen to the escapades of the tortoise. Yet in all these turtle stories, a thread of a code of ethics was woven for us. It was customary at the end of each story for the narrator to ask the children who were listening what the lesson of the story was.

In the broadest sense at the government level, we had festivals that were used to teach leaders the essence of honor and integrity. Such festivals used to be a kind of masquerade where wayward leaders were lampooned with songs, dramas, and the like that sent the message home. It was understood that actors wearing any mask could not be punished. The victim who felt awful about being lampooned would naturally stay on her farm for a few days or weeks, depending on the severity of the lampooning. She returned to the larger community after a while hoping that everyone would have forgiven or forgotten that misdemeanor. However, she notes that in her anxiety about not having the same experience the following year, she would mend her ways.

The society was friendly, it knew its place, and the government was in most cases benevolent and inclusive. Storytelling had its uses and was a simple form of entertainment as well as an instructional tool. Sadly though, the story is radically different today in my part of the world. The only viable stories we can tell each other these days are poverty, disease (some really weird ones our ancestors never heard of), and our insensitivity to each other. In those golden days, a thief could find no relief anywhere unless he changed his ways. His family disowned him. His community would reject him and no matter how wealthy he became, he was never granted a cacique title. The community will look down on him if he even tries to contribute to the common wealth of the people.

Today, there are no more stories to tell. You no longer have to sit next to the big tree to look at the moon, sing to the moon or tell stories of the escapes of the turtle. There are no more moonlight games, no wrestling, no popular songs, no beauty contests in which we show off our African hairstyles. What we have now is the television that has made dignified Africans dignified, the fashion that has undressed us and left us naked. Thieves now hold chieftaincy titles and sometimes decide the course of a once proud and self-sufficient people.

We can still go back to the days of storytelling. We can still use stories to change our concepts to something noble and uplifting. We may not be able to physically sit by the big tree, but we can still tell stories about honor and integrity, as these stories are as timeless as the virtues they preach. It is the essence of true civilization. Do we still have good storytellers?