ABSTRACT
When I look back over the years of my childhood, memories of storytelling evenings in my household always bring the flicker of a smile to my face, and my heart sings with bittersweet joy. There was no television in those days, nor had the poison of the colonial educational system started to seep into our minds, and storytelling commanded the love and allegiance of my generation. I remember sitting with my brothers, my sisters, and other relatives in the living room or in our yard after the evening meal and listening while my mother, my stepmother, a relative, or a friend of the family led us, with splendid eloquence, through the wonderworld of stories of long ago.
