There are very few stories I remember from my childhood. I wasn’t told so much stories, considering the fact that my visit to my grandparents, happened once in a blue moon, and my parents? They told I and my brother the little they knew, on the days we weren’t so busy.
Anyways, among the very few stories told to I and my brother, let’s just say I have a bad memory where these are concerned. It’s only one I can still tell completely at this age and time. This story, was told in the form of a song, sung in my dialect but I’m going to translate it so you understand better.
Once upon a time, there was a poor orphan boy, who lived in a village. He had no one to care for him, tend to him, or even fight for him. The only thing he had was himself, his parents house, and whatever he could farm out of his parent’s garden. One fateful day, he found the king’s soldiers at his house, holding a plate of food in their hands. They offered it to him, telling him it was sent to him from the king. Happily, this boy collected the food and was about to start eating.
He hadn’t even scooped a spoonful into his mouth, before a bird began singing from above. It told him to not eat the food, that it was poisoned. According to him, the king didn’t want him in the town anymore so he sent his soldiers to poison him using food. After hearing this, the poor boy trashed the food, and relocated to another town, away from the wicked villagers.
Source I heard this story and although I felt pity for the poor boy. I couldn’t help fearing for my own life. Everytime I went to someone’s house, or was offered food from someone else, I was skeptical about eating. After hearing that story, no one needed to remind me to be contended with what I had at home. It’s hilarious, thinking about it now because my mom didn’t even need to give me the African side-eye before I refused food from outsiders. This story did that job in its place.
This story isn’t so popular but it had a strong impact on me while I was younger. You know that era as a child, where no matter how full you are, it’s still hard to resist food, I was at that stage when I was told the story. And this? This was the perfect story to curb it.
I’ve forgotten many of my childhood stories, but this is one that lives rent free in my head till this day. I don’t know if it’s because it was told in a danceable way or just because I was scared of being poisoned. Either way, it’s my favourite folklore from childhood. Have you heard this story before? Or is there a folklore that lives rent free in your head from childhood? Share it with us here in the #hive-Ghana community.
Thanks for reading.