Welcome to my world!

I wanted to give this site a theme but couldn't find something that quite captures its eclectism. And then it struck me. It's a story-telling site. And what better name to give it than Tales by Moonlight . There's a story behind this. And as you'll soon find out, there's always a story!

I grew up in a small pastoral community in Nigeria. In those days, the coming of the full moon was the event of the month for children and the young at heart. For about three days, kids would gather in a part of the community, usually where the "in-crowd" kids lived, and sing, dance and tell stories, mainly folk tales. The story teller would begin the tales, nké, with Ekong nkéééé! (equivalent to "once upon a time") and everyone would respond Nkè!!!. Then the nké would begin. In places where the people in the story were singing, the storyteller would give the chorus for the audience to sing. Whatever actions the people in the story did, such as dancing and clapping, the audience would simulate. An nké was therefore a total performative package consisting of the various aspects of the performing arts. The interesting thing was that rarely were the nkés new stories. But every teller personalized the stories (either by introducing more songs or adding new strands) in such a way that a tale heard a 100 times before always sounded new. If an older person was the storyteller, he or she would end with a moral lesson from the story, or ask the audience to discuss the moral in the story. Of course, the younger people in the audience were impatient for another story. There would be shouts of Ekong nkéééé! to signal that somebody was ready with another story. There was an intense competition for whose story should be heard first.

I recall many nights hearing the sounds of this joy and celebration of childhood and youth. Only the sounds reached me as I lay in bed pretending to be asleep. You see, I couldn't attend. I doubt that I was in any of the moonlight gatherings for more than twice in my life, including one night when, for whatever reason, the group gathered outside our house. I wanted to belong, to be part of the group of kids whose parents allowed them to do things, to go out at night to play in the glow of the moonlight. I couldn't: my parents wouldn't let me, or any of my siblings. It was not safe, they would say, but that was one logic that I could never understand. If it was that dangerous, how come other parents allowed their kids to go? Mind you, I didn't whine too much about those missed nights. But for years, I would battle with the sense of not belonging, of not being part of the "happening crowd."

That sense of being on the sidelines of life became a career. As a journalist, I was the silent observer, the one who heard, saw and noticed what went on in other people's lives but was never part of the group. I had to be objective, you know, and keep myself out of it all. In my childhood however, my parents, especially my father, made up for whatever sense of completion I needed from belonging to a group. They made us kids the centre of their lives. In my family, we were never in doubt that we belonged, were special and the most important people in the world. Apart from making us the centre of our world, my parents also brought the world to us through the many nights we sat in the living room listening to stories. My father regaled us with tales and tales and tales. I could never tire of hearing his stories about his life, childhood and his experiences during the Civil War in my country. Stories from Shakespeare and the Bible would also enrich the content of his nkés. He has a good singing song, so he would sing, mostly church songs. He and my mom sang in the church choir, and many nights, they would do duets from the hymn book. I never could sing. But I did inherit something from my dad -- his gift for story telling.

As I thought of what this website will do, I realized that whatever it eventually becomes, it will be one certain thing. It will be a place where I tell stories, mostly stories about my life and my experiences as a Christian, wife, journalist, mother, daughter, sister, friend, student, a aspiring political scientist, university instructor, "gipsy scholar" and an undeterred seeker for that for that dream job. I know that I will move from the serious to the unserious, and from the "deep" to the frivolous. Like the nkés of my childhood, this site will be a mix of everything. In my culture, at least when I was growing up, the

... And poems by candlelight! 

Once upon a moonlit night: A Father's Day story

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Writing for healing

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important stories (and gossips) were told in the glow of the moonlight. In this space, I will finally get to play, dance, sing and laugh in the moonlight, and still get to control the rhythm. So join me in these moonlight tales. Of course, it will be a two-way process, won't it? You'll tell me stories, even as I regale you with mine. And together, we will learn from each other.