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Troubador Publishing Ltd - Freddy Fynn

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55 pages

English

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Of Life and Love: Eight Moral Tales is a collection of short stories written within the African tradition of storytelling. As the subtitle suggests, all eight tales have a strong moralistic twist, and a range of settings. Written to offer insight into how life's choices are influenced by life experience, and to show a range of different perspectives on moral issues, this collection is also a refreshing take on the short story genre. Author Freddy Fynn was born in Ghana, West Africa. Growing up in a community of storytellers had a big impact upon him and has helped him to create his unique writing voice. The eight tales contained within this collection are all influenced by African themes and a touch of Christian ideology. The collection includes tales such as: A King's Lullaby - in a small African village, a wise King's sayings are chronicled. In the Tenderness of Love a housewife must choose forgiveness or divorce after discovering her husband's infidelity.

Sujets

Love

Love (disambiguation)

Short story

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	01 janvier 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781848769175
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

OF LIFE AND LOVE
Eight Moral Tales
Freddy Fynn
Copyright 2010 Freddy Fynn
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador 5 Weir Road Kibworth Beauchamp Leicester LE8 0LQ, UK Tel: ( 44) 116 279 2299 Fax: ( 44) 116 279 2277 Email: books@troubador.co.uk Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
ISBN 978 1848765 238
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Typeset in 11pt Aldine BT Roman 401 by Troubador Publishing Ltd, Leicester, UK

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
For late Elizabeth and late Kofi Snr.
Contents
A King s Lullaby
A Deeper Love
Tears of Hope
The Tenderness of Love
The Chasing Self
Anything or Nothing
You Never Know
A Mother s Love
To find the meaning of life is to have a reason to live.
A KING S LULLABY
The quiet night exposed the chirping of the crickets. For large toads, it was a time for celebration. It had rained in the afternoon and at the side of the road, little ponds had formed in the potholes. All the people in the village had retired to bed early that night, as the park in front of the palace had been soaked. Every window was open to allow the cool, fresh breeze from the tropical rain forest to lift the hot air released by the muddy walls.
He always came out in the night when it rained. Even though his kingdom was shrouded in darkness, his mental picture of the territory of Obraland (literally life land ), was so vivid that he could still see the small African village before him. His humble countenance belied his strength, but he could not resist a smile of pride. Each time he walked on his balcony, he would hear the village women as they talked about his wisdom and prowess. The women would shout their praise aloud, knowing full well that he could hear them.
His bravery in the fight for Obraland against the people of Mempe Ade Pa (literally dislike for good things ) resonated as folklore at village gatherings. For the men, his identity was the king of justice and impartiality . In times of disagreement, they sought his fair judgement for a perfect resolution.
King Solos (the nickname given to him by the people as they always compared him to King Solomon), the wise king of Obraland, breathed deeply and pushed down his custom-made Adinkra shirt, allowing the air to circulate around his hairy chest. He yawned, stretched and tapped lightly on the wall. Enough air, my lungs are full and besides I am already tired. I need to get some rest, he said.
He opened his door and went to his stool room. He sat on the lowest chair to feel how his subjects felt when they came before him. As he sat there, he felt the intensity his presence commanded in the people. Is it enough? What legacy will I leave for my people? he asked himself. He needed to deliver a message that would change the community throughout every generation. He smiled as his wise heart whispered to him. Wonderful, wonderful, he said. Presently he rose and went to sleep.
During his reign, he had defied the old tradition and married only one wife. He had filled the palace with maidservants who attended him. Almost all the maids were children of the underprivileged; his way of ensuring that every one of his subjects was supported.
In the village, there lived three sisters named Abortre (Patience), Botaye (Purpose) and Shebre (Destiny). To carry out what his heart had whispered to him the other night, he called for Patience to come and stay with him. He insisted that she be the only maid who could get close to him personally. When the king was asked to resolve conflicts, he would have Patience sit by his right-hand side.
One day, Atta and Attong engaged in a serious fight over the division of their late father s properties. The whole town had gathered in their house, in order to seize the knife and sticks they held to each other s throats, ready to end their respective lives. The village folk immediately marched them to King Solos palace and placed the two men before him. He sat there for almost ten minutes. Bring me two bowls of sand, he ordered. All the people gazed in surprise, wondering what sand had to do with inheritance. He turned to his left and right, and demanded, and bring me two boxes of needles. He emptied each box of needles into the two separate bowls of sand. Pick them all out, one by one, he asked the brothers.
They began as the people watched. The first one rose up after just five minutes when he realised he could not pick them so easily. I can t, I will not. What is this? he shouted at the king. The chief executioner drew his sword at him for shouting at the king but the king motioned to him to put the sword down. The second brother painstakingly picked up all the needles in his bowl and raised it to the king, saying, Long live my king, I am done.
The king smiled and stood up. Gentleman, he told the first man, I have every right to give all the properties to your brother. He deserves it. However, you managed to pick some, so I will give you part of the inheritance based on the amount of needles you have. The people began clapping in awe as they left the palace.
One fateful day, the king had a terrible illness. He called for Patience and told her, Go to your parents and the community now, but call your sister Purpose for me. She will come and stay with me from now on.
Purpose stayed with the king throughout his illness and oh, what a happy man he was. Since Purpose came to the palace, the king would arranged for the whole community to gather every Wednesday night so he could tell them stories of life. Each time he told a story, he would leave them with questions and implore them to find the answers.
On the first night, with Purpose by his side, he addressed them. There was a successful woman who supplied her entire town with most of their market s produce. She had a reputation in her business and realised that many of the town s men admired her beauty and fantasised about her.
One day she stopped selling and began entertaining these men. She would go to their local beer parlour where they habitually gathered and entertain them. It did not matter to her what kind of man enjoyed her company, only that he had money. She gained notoriety in this area and soon was the talk of the town.
The men loved her services and she loved the attention. That is until one evening, when the men had gathered as usual, she had walked proudly into their centre and began dancing and suddenly the thrills and claps abruptly stopped. The men all started hiding their faces as they left the bar. What had they realised? What did she realise? I leave that to your conscience.
On another night, the whole village gathered once again. This time they all had mixed feelings and curious faces. They all wondered what was going to come next. The king emerged from his room with Purpose at his right-hand side.
He sat down and began. A man walked into a bar to find the people within crying. He was curious to find out why, so he enquired and they told him the sad event that had happened. The man stood there for some time and then headed towards the owner. Give me as many local beers as possible, he asked.
The owner was stunned, but had to oblige. The man went to the centre of the crowd and started drinking the beer. Initially, the people were confused and did not understand. He kept on drinking. Then suddenly, the crowd became impressed because none of them had seen a man who could drink so much of the local beer and still sit there fit and conscious. For each glass, he would raise it towards the crowd as they cheered him on. Soon the crying bar had turned into a cheering bar. Everyone was happy, clapping and cheering as he kept on drinking. He left in a stupor, waving to them as he did so.
Why did he do that? What did they get from it? Once again, I will leave that to your conscience. The villagers left more puzzled than the previous time.
Then came another Wednesday. This time, everyone in the village, even the old men who could not walk and were carried, came to the palace. The king came out from his room with Purpose.
He sat down and began his riddle. A priest stood behind a pulpit. He glanced at the people and saw that they all had a dull expression on their faces. They seemed distracted in life. He started preaching on his favourite theme of hope and endurance. He spoke with such flair and convincing spirit. Then, he realised that the people sitting on the pews were now nodding and raising their hands in the air, absorbing the powerful message of hope. He could see he was changing lives and they could sense their lives being changed. He finished, waved at them and left.
How did he feel? What did they feel? Once again, I leave that to your conscience but this time, I bid you all farewell.
That night, the king s sickness worsened: he was about to die. He called Purpose and said to her, Go back to your family and the community. Ask Destiny to come to the palace and stay with me.
At the time of death, all his noblemen gathered around him as they had done to his predecessors. The first king, King Akate, confessed just before he died that he had misappropriated the royal funds, namely gold, for his personal gain.
The next king, King Abumba, confessed to killing a poor farmer so he could marry his faithful and devoted wife.
The penultimate king, King Kinpo II, confessed to using brutality on his