How Storytelling Saves Lives

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Photo by Alexey Demidov on Unsplash

How every good Bahamian story begins:

“Once upon a time and a good old time
Monkey chewed tobacco and spit white lime”.

"Have ya’ heard of B’rabbi and Br’fox? ‘Vell, B’rabbi is a rascal and his biggest nemesis is Br’fox. No two characters ever did hate each other like those two. 

I blame B’rabbi the most though—now hear me out. A fox is doing just what foxes do; why now B’rabbi think he can just harass Br’fox all day every day and not think a fox will come for him? What kinda thinking is that? 

That rascal was just bored, I think. Bored and maybe a bit jealous? ‘Cause Br’fox came up with some real clever tricks to trap him. Who can forget the ‘Ta’ Baby’ incident of ‘31? Ya never heard of the ‘Ta’ Baby’ incident? ‘Vell chile! Br’fox made a tar baby to catch and vex B’rabbi. And it almost work too...but unfortunately B’Boukee has a weakness too; he too greedy!

You want me to tell you about the ‘Ta’ Baby’ incident, ya say? I ‘ain gat time today but it’s very famous ‘round here. Ol’ Mrs. Pratt down the road, she gat time, ask her, but make sure ya gat time because the Lawd is my witness, that woman can run on!"

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Storytelling saves lives.

If you ever sat at your grandmother’s knee or when the best ghost storyteller in the world was braiding your hair, you would agree. I never drank whiskey and walked by a graveyard, and I was ever suspicious of strange looking foods given to me by former enemies. It was the stories that saved me and will save you too. This was how it is in the Caribbean; moral lessons, sighting dangers, knowing your enemies and protecting yourself—all cemented by the stories that were told by grandparents, neighbours, strangers and the like.

Tales are told before we even enter the school systems, and their lessons and warnings become part and parcel of the soul. Algebra may be forgotten but not Anansi’s tricks. Not the fear of the spirit world when you are doing wrong. A suspicious decor hanging in a mango tree triggers a warning in the brain: ‘Obeah? Voodoo? A subtle warning—do not touch! Why? Because of the story of the obeah man who hung spells in his mango tree. All sworn to have really happened, backed up by your own run in with a possible ghost, evil spirit or a shudder from a place you have never been before. See, my neighbour Nova told no lie when she told of the spirit that followed a drunk and disrespectful man from the graveyard! 

Still not convinced on the life saving power of storytelling? How many disobedient children ended up in peril? How many people fell for their enemies’ tricks? How many men underestimated the vengeance of a hurt, scorned and broken woman? None of them heeded the warnings of Aesop, Anansi, and countless folk tales of men and women surviving against all odds.

Storytelling creates or cements a people’s ethos and worldviews, it shapes nations and tells them and others who they are, what they value, and how they choose to live. It is a weapon of hope, direction, and the collective healing practice of individuals or communities who cannot wield brute force. Good storytellers are the soldiers of the voiceless and they, unlike kings, are the true masters of the people. They can capture hearts and minds and create the narrative that guides.

I grew up in a home of storytelling, Bahamian folk tales, bible stories, songs, and poems. It is said that the Bahamas has the largest collection of folk tales in the western hemisphere! When the power went  out, it was story time. When my grandmother wanted to teach us a lesson, it was always a story; there was always an uncle who did such and such a thing and that’s why he only has one arm. Television was forgotten—how could Tom and Jerry  compare to B’Rabbi and B’Bouki, his frenemy?

But the best storyteller, in my mind, was not a relative but our neighbour, Nova. Her name alone made her fascinating. Her specialty was the supernatural: spirits, good and evil, ghosts, and the devil. These stories created in me a, needless to say, healthy respect of the ‘otherworld’ and a deep fear of ghosts. She was not the only one to do so; every elder, trying to bring us children up right, used the fear of the spirits to get us to listen. It is only now that I am able to let my feet hang over the bed (because you know, if you don’t cut your toenails, some long dead relative will appear at the end of your bed in the dark of night and pull your big toe!) Needless to say, these tales were more effective than spanking or nagging. 

Storytelling is a power that can be wielded for good or for evil and some tales should not last through time. Each era needs fresh stories, creating new ethos; what served in the past may not always serve today, it may, in fact, create villains instead of heroes.

We praise the trickster character, told by a people suffering from the indignities of slavery. For them, he offered hope and the ability to overcome any adversity. The enslaved and marginalized believed they could undermine their oppressor, just like Br’rabbi or Anansi. Over time, that can become an ethos, but when circumstances change, these same strengths and values can turn these same people into tricksters towards each other—tricking their customers, their spouses or their entire nation and feeling it is a value rather than a vice.

Let us new storytellers create new folk tales to create a society that is reflective of our times. Let us build on the old, which has always been the nature of storytellers, and move them into this ‘new’ world. This keeps the past alive but shapes a new ethos that serves the people of today—because storytelling saves lives.

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THE SPIRIT HOUSE

(A Bahmian Folk Tale)

Once upon a time was a good old time. Monkey chew tobacco and spit white lime.

Now it was Brer Bookie and Brer Rabbit used to go out stealing. Go to the spirit house and this night Brer Bookie see Brer Rabbit coming down wid a dray load of things. Brer Bookie say “Brer Rabbit, where you get all these good things from?” He scratch he head.

Brer Rabbit tell him, “From de sperrit house and tomorrow morning at six o’clock I will take you to get something too.”

Bookie wake up at five o’clock and say to Brer Rabbit “Six o’clock now time to go. Six o’clock now time to go.”

Rabbit say “Naw, ’tain’t six o’clock yet.”

So Bookie ketch a big fire in de yard to say daylight come.

Rabbit say “No, mon, daylight ain’t come yet.”

So when six o’clock come, Brer Rabbit put on his clothes and both of them went till they come to the sperrit house. When they come there Rabbit say, “My house come down so low.” And the house come down and they went in and Brer Bookie say, “Mon, good food in here, good food in here. I will cook a pot of peas and rice.”

And he did and both of them sit down and eat. And when it was time for them to go, Brer Bookie didn’t went. He say, “Mon, I got to stay and eat.”

And Brer Rabbit went out and said, “My house, my house, go up so high.” And he went up.

And when it was time for the sperrits to come, they said, “My house, my house, come down so low. And they went in and said, “Someone has been in here.”

They begin to cook peas and rice and salt, but when it was finish the sperrit give his little girl a pan full and she went by de bed to sit down and eat. Bookie had done hid under the bed from the spirits.

Bookie said to her, “Gimme some, gimme some.” And he beg and beg.

And she went and ax her father for more and the father give it to her, and he eat all that from the little girl. And she went and ax for more and her father say, “Your gut must be big as a barrel eh?”

After Bookie done eat all dat from her, she say, “I got two papa. One of top de bed and one underneath de bed.”

The de sperrit get a sea rod and beat him—Bookie—wid it. All de time the house going up, and he t’row him out and broke Bookie neck.

Biddy, biddy bend,
My story is end.
Turn loose the rooster,
And hold the hen.