African Folk Stories Novels & Stories

' Somto chuckled and picked up the baby, going to seat on a long chair. 'Speaking of stories,' he said. 'Do you guys wanna hear a traditional folklore instead?' 'Yes, please!' said the children, excited to hear an Igbo folklore for the first time. They quickly went to find places to seat. Somto adjusted Baby Kanayo on his laps with a smile and cleared his throat. 'Once upon a time . . .' *(Also 'Oyinbo') A Caucasian; a white person.

of course, there was an aptness for proclivity in judgment, since all those senior members of the palace always got venerated after every brawl. A perfect example was when one of the young princes; prince Ogidigbo. The son of oloi (queen) Esagho had been attacked and almost killed in a forbidden forest. Apparently, some masked unknown lady had promised to gift numerous goodies to the prince. However, he first had to collect some leaves from a common plant from a forbidden forest. Although the plant was common, the lady had instructed the prince in his dreams; that he had to collect only, the leaves of a plant in that forest. Thus, the next day, the prince and a few strongmen, marched into th

“Hearing that explains much more about why he has been on edge recently. Do you really think the stories he was told as a kid will help you?” Lindsay asked Wren. “Maybe. Folklore is commonly based on actual events or creatures that were not easily explained. If you haven’t noticed, we have had quite a few things come up without records. If Viktor can even give us an idea about some of them, then that is more than we have now,” Wren explained.

Jared revealed, Aghogho giggled, he took one step towards Jared, “Are you talking about the history book of the Beast kingdom written by a so called ancient Forest Nymph, where the Beast in the bottomless hole is located? See you. It was all a lie, the stories, Dragons, the Beast in the bottomless hole. They are all fables we say to our cubs at moonlight stories.” “Are we? Are we fables?!” Jared asked. Aghogho groaned suddenly his appearances changed as he grew bigger, wilder and hairier, his nails grew sharper and his canine teeth also as he thudded towards Jared.

Some of them were lies, others had elements of truth in them either way, they were joyous of all the tribes. The Solar tribe would talk about the benefits of Folktales, they would say it played an important role in their clan. Because stories reflect their group's cultural identity, preserving the stories of Werewolves would help preserve an entire culture. Storytelling affirmed pride and identity in a culture. In this amazing town of theirs, stories were created by and for the tribes telling them. Different groups in their town had different rituals or ceremonies for storytelling, which created a sense of belonging to a cultural group. To outsiders hearing a clan stories, it provided an in

Now all eyes were on the African elder. “You can say all you want but I will not reveal what I know, not because it is a dangerous thing, but it is something that will be good for Africa and it will make all of you bow to us for a change.” The elder told them but was not specific as to what it is that will make them bow to Africa. “Did the Africans acquire a medical stone or something? Because I can’t think of anything else that can make African as powerful as you say.” Asked another elder.

"The Yemoja (fish people) has always been a vital part of the Yoruba belief system. The Yoruba's believe that there are worlds within our world and the underwater realm of the Yemoja is just one of them. What you would call myths and superstitions are indeed stories lost in time. Most African languages had no written form, so our ancestors passed down their knowledge, wisdom, and documentation of their experiences through oral tradition. The people of this town have always had contact with the water people and they have always lived among us," Baba Fatomi explained.

“Well Amaka is dead now eh, fairytale did not prepare her for someone like Mugabe or she wouldn’t have worked for him in the first place.’’ Shango snapped finally losing his infinite patience. Babybaby was silent, her lower lip quavers, everybody stiffened in apprehension, waiting for the dam to break. But the thunder god sighed and awkwardly patted her on the head like she was a dangerous beast. “I spoke rashly child, forgive me, fairytale is not silly, neither is folklore for both teaches its own lesson, the hours draw near witching hour, it’s not time for a baby to be up.’’ “I’m not a baby,’’ Babybaby protested between sniffs and yawns. “Tell me another story please a mixture of fairytale

"hyperbolic!" "I swear, African parents don't take shit when it comes to education. By the way, you said your mum's 50 percent Cameroon blood, she ought to have told you this right?" "Ain't got time for all that shit bro. She got my siblings to listen to her preach about her childhood and stuff like that. Not my cup of tea."

Leah also gave a look of disapproval. "Callie, I agree with them. I just wasted my time." I got up when I remembered that I was on my way to the garden. "What? Those stories are pretty lame, to begin with." "Not when nana tells them." The kids retorted. Nana arrived soon to tell a different version of the first werewolf that happened in Egypt where people considered shapeshifting a gift and not a curse. I grew up listening to nana's stories, about demon kings and dragon queens and all things fantasy. My all-time favorite was the story of my mother, except for the part where she dies.