Tales by Touchlight

A young boy expressing his anguish about how western civilizationhas so much destroyed the African culture

Tales By touch light

It was a night like no other; the moon was as bright as a halogen lamp placed right above my head.  I found it difficult to tear myself from this rare setting.

Junior, you know you are going to school tomorrow. You had better go to bed now before i get a hold of you. My mother was saying for the third time or so.

But Dapo and Ameen are outside too; please mum let me play for some minutes more. I pleaded

The usual power outage had forced mum and dad as well as most of our neighbors in our face me, I face you resident as it was popular called here in Lagos to sit outside and enjoy the cool night breeze, under the moonlit streets. It felt much better than watching sponge bob and even Tom and Jerry under the fluorescent in the parlour of our two room apartment.

I remember stories my mum had told me about children listening to tales under the moonlight, stories of ijapa and yanibo,ige Adubi and tales of Efunsetan Aniwuara, I wish i could be a part of that world seated among ill-dressed children with unkempt hair, without any worries like having to go to school the next day or whether the dirt ground would soil their cloths or not. We are the unlucky generation, we have Television sets and travel in cars but have no culture, when the white man say same sex marriage is good, we say it is good, men now plait their hair and women now put on trousers, is this our culture or the thrash imported from overseas and at great prices too. We have no defined way of life, we just follow everything the white man does or says like a zombie on a blood trail. I blame the white men for bringing education and western civilization to ruin our already cultured civilization replacing our tales by moonlight with tales by touch light told by a four by four box without a brain, rather than the elderly sage that had passed down history as myth so it would not be easily forgotten; how orunmila had come down from heaven in chain, the story of Sango, Oya and the Oya river, the akuko and erupe that had stemmed the evolution of the world. They had planted seeds of courage in the heart of young men with tales of escapades by our fathers and forefathers, how they had conquered villages, and defeated enemies, battled demons and wrestled the devil himself. Morality was instilled and ethics were upheld listening to account of how good always begets good and no bad ever goes unpunished. Boys were made into men under the supervision of the moonlight. Unlike now where all we’re exposed to is how jerry stole tom’s cheese and they had to chase themselves all through the day. No wonder children of nowadays are so dumb, but I am different, I never watch tom and jerry like my mates do, I don’t even watch nickelodeon or kidsco at all, I prefer watching the BBC world news and the discovery channel. They all say I’m weird, but I know they are the weird ones because their mom scolds them all the time and tells them “can’t you be like junior for once and read your books”. I would also amuse myself in the writings of D. O. Fagunwa, and Chinua Achebe, I’ve tried so many times too to read the works of professor Wole Soyinka but I usually find them too difficult to comprehend, but Ola Rotimi’s the God’s are not to be blamed is still my favourite. I hope I would be given a role to play, when we perform the movie at the end of the year party at school.

Up Nepa!!! The screams accompanied by a light tapping behind my head brought me back to reality.

Let’s go in boy, commanded my dad in his usual authoritative tone. I complied immediately, I dare not delay or try to be smart, I knew better than that, I could get away with such with my mum but never with my dad, has he never hesitated to pick up the cane.

I trudge behind him into the bright darkness of out room, brightness of fluorescent bulbs that has bring about the darkness of the moonlight.

My brother had already switched on the TV when we got inside, and was watching nickelodeon as you would expect. Even though he was three years and two classes ahead of me, I know I am smarter than him because I could solve his assignments and he couldn’t solve mine.  

Switch off that TV right at this instant, my mom said furious.

I saved him the trouble and switched the TV off since I was closer to it.

My mom and dad went into the room to sleep; I and my brother were to sleep on the couches in the parlour. I long to catch a glimpse of the moonlight from where I lay but the fluorescent light was too bright, it had chased away the moon light just as western civilization had chased away our culture, and my brother wouldn’t allow me switch off the light so the moonlight could peek in through the window blinds. I blame the white men, I blame them for everything, they corrupted our culture and stole our oil all under the pretense of making our society better, thanks to the like of Awo and Zik and other great men I do not know their name that had rescued us before they could suck us totally dry, even though they had been able to rescue us only partially. They invented guns and explosives and placed them in our hands so we can destroy each other with it, and without thinking turn ourselves in Toms chasing around Jerrys over a piece of cheese that would have effectively fed us all.

They are to blame for everything, they are as guilty as the one who had pulled the trigger and detonated the explosive, they are to be blamed for everything.

The whites I will never forgive them, even if I would forgive them for everything, I would never forgive them for taking away our tales by moonlight replacing it with their tales by touch light.

When I grow up to become a writer, I would bring back our moonlight with my books, “just wait till am older, I would make everything right again” I would tell my mum.