When the moon is full, elders gather,
And the stories walk on two legs.
Osuofia, laughter in his bones,
Stood like an iroko that has seen many seasons.
Chimamanda, voice like morning dew,
Carried the word as one who drinks deeply from the pot of proverbs.
The tortoise said, “If you travel with words, travel with wisdom.” And there they stood – wit and wisdom, side by side, hand in hand,
A palm wine tapper and the keeper of scrolls.
One tells the tale with twinkle and jest,
The other with ink that stirs the soul.
Both remind us that “a people who do not know where the rain began to beat them
will not know where to dry their bodies.”
At the Things Fall Apart Festival, the kola was broken again. And those who had ears, heard;
Those who had hearts remembered.
Because when the storytellers smile,
The ancestors dance.
From Tony Onyima’s wall
