Diary of a Village Boy: The Leopard Spirit 11 (Tales By Moonlight 1)

When the moonlight came, the villagers would gather at the Square near Eze’s palace to share stories and tales. Children and even some adults eagerly looked forward to this time. It was a joyful period for the village, as everyone could come together to have fun—playing games, solving riddles, and telling folktales. The first storyteller was an old grandma who told a familiar tale. Typically, questions would follow the applauses, but Mazi Api interrupted.

“You know I have a story too,” Mazi Api began. Everyone turned to look at him, and I wondered what story he wanted to share. “A long, long time ago, when the land was blind, and things were not as they seemed today, when the buffalo could speak, and the crocodile could sing…” Mazi Api, a teacher at the newly established school, seemed to be enjoying himself as he closed his eyes in reflection, lost in the moment. The moonlight illuminated his face, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was a handsome man. I had heard rumors that many of his primary school students had crushes on him, but I was at the Village Square to listen to the night tales—not to indulge in another man’s fantasies. I heard murmuring in the crowd and suspected some people were not entertained by his antics this time. Perhaps they were engaged in breakaway discussions or were among Mazi Api’s admirers.

“I said a long, long time ago…” He began again, looking around with eyes like that of a cat searching for mice. “The moon married the giraffe, and they couldn’t agree on anything. One day, they had a quarrel in front of their guests, and the moon afterward presented himself dressed in bright light, but the furious giraffe ate a chunk of him, leaving him half. Their guests, out of horror, dispersed. That’s why there are half-moonlights some nights.” Mazi Api looked around triumphantly, pleased with his tale. There was a round of applause.

The firewood crackled as the flames gently licked the wood, creating a comforting warmth. The youngest children sat closest to the fire, followed by the next oldest, and so on, until the eldest gathered at the back. I was somewhere in the middle, and having the fire and human warmth all around was fun. Well, isn’t that what community was all about? I saw some friends in the crowd; everyone, especially the teenage lovers, seemed to be having fun. Of course, the moonlight tales provided an easy meeting place for lovers.

I kept thinking about Mazi Api’s tale. Sometimes, how the story’s characters assumed their roles made little sense. For instance, how could the moon possibly be married to a giraffe? It seemed so ridiculous! Mama had told stories, and so had Dada, but there seemed to be more lessons in tales told at home than in those told at the Square. Perhaps it was because anyone could say they have a story and be allowed to share it, even if it made sense or not. The evening fun won’t be spoiled by anybody’s bad tales.

I was deep in thought when I saw someone walk by. It was a familiar shape and figure, one that made my heart beat faster…

To be continued…