“Read it again Daddy! Read it again!”
My task was to tuck them in, but I was the one falling sleep. “Come on guys. How many times you want to hear that same old story?” I grumbled – to myself, that is. But they would have none of it and tried to pry my drooping eyelids open.
I had no idea at the time I was engaging in the kind of priceless nurturing that makes lifelong impressions on loved ones. There could be a no better time than now to recall your own experiences listening to or telling bedtime stories.
After re-re-reading their favourite story books, I just started making up stuff. I would mix in dribbles of daily dramas, bringing it home with fragments of favourite family travels. Even after I thought I’d wrapped up the happily-ever-after anecdotes, their inquisitive minds zeroed in on loose ends to the narrative. They still wanted to know just how she pulled that off, did he survive, and what happened after that. They just wouldn’t quit! So I’d segway into some old folktales grandma told us growing up. They revelled in those even more.
It would all start after dinner. If Mom was well-deservedly chillin’ with her recorded soap operas, this became my contribution to the household chores. Needless to say, it was an adventure each time. I would carry them upstairs, double-piggyback style. But a strange thing happens when working hard to keep children fed – Oh, how fast they grow! One evening, halfway up, my knees creaked and wobbled dangerously. “Okay, okay, fellahs! Come down! Come down! Nice and easy…Yeah, just like that. Nice and easy…”
Disaster was averted. However, like the horse and buggy, such mode of transportation had to be consigned to the pages of history. But then came the tough part – getting them out of the bath!
“Let me see your fingers.” I demanded. They knew the drill. When their fingertips began to look like little prunes, bath-time was over. So the clever little rascals would try to hide their hands behind their backs – and underwater! Next, I had to enforce house rules that they brush their teeth ‘as long as a song.’ Then I powdered them and snuggled on their PJ’s. From there, it was a piece of cake: story time! They literally scampered off to bed. Oftentimes, Mom had to come rescue me if it went well past her time to chofay. At long last, the mission was accomplished. We would then carry whichever sleeping innocent to his bed and kiss his forehead goodnight.
Far out party
Famed West Indian story-tellers Louise Bennett and Paul Keynes Douglas (Tanti Merle) gloried in the vivid imagination of children. Walt Disney found their laughter timeless. “Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever.” In casual conversation with my African medical students, I was amazed to find how the stories from their heritage sounded so familiar:
Once upon a time, all the animals were invited for a party in a faraway country over the mountains. Those with no wings asked assistance from the birds to carry them there. However, before they embarked on that journey Tortoise called a meeting with all the animals. “Since this is a special party,” he said, “I’m changing my name to ‘You All’ for the occasion. If you want, you can choose a special name too.” The animals were all excited and chose different names as well.
The big day arrived and all the animals gathered for the journey. The birds carried all the big animals like Elephant, Lion, Antelope, Rhino, Tortoise and so on. They all enjoyed the long flight over the mountains, taking in wonderful new sights from on high.
Celebrations got on the way with the host presenting them with different delicious dishes. “This is for you all,” he said. “That’s me!” Tortoise jumped up gleefully, and devoured all the food and drink. The other animals were lucky if they got a few scraps that fell off the table. The hungrier they got, the angrier they became with Tortoise. The birds were barely able to fly everyone back home.
Big-belly Tortoise had to beg and beg for a ride home. As they flew over the mountains, the bird felt weak and tired. For a moment it could no longer flap. Its wing drooped and Tortoise slid off. He fell all the way down to the rocks below. His back broke into a hundred pieces and had to be glued back together at Princess Margaret Hospital. That is why Tortoise has a cracked shell. And notice, he is still moving kind of slowly when you see him at Rosalie Beach.
The morale of the story
Kids get it. From stories like that, they begin to grasp whatsoever things are of virtue, and shun the vices that so often beset us. It is a fun way to instil that universal human language of wisdom as we unconsciously weave together the fabric of our lives.
Video games keep getting incredibly better and better – nothing like the Space Invaders, Tetris and Pac man some of us cut our teeth on. They make great electronic baby-sitters, but can never replace the warmth of family bonding so essential for emotional health and creativity.
Indeed, those who missed out as children can still share the joy of tucking in others, in person or even over the phone. ‘Bedtime stories’ stimulate curiosity and somehow induce sweet sedation at the same time. They morph into different forms: from BFF’s in the throes of life’s discoveries, to young lovers and old spouses, to trusted friends that stick closer than siblings.
Maybe one day we may be graced with long life, not able to do as much as before. Our good will come back to us. Neighbour, brethren, or some dear acquaintance will visit; children, grandchildren, grand-nieces and grand-nephews too. They will regale us with stories of their exciting lives in that brave new world to come…until we drift off – and feel that warm, gentle goodnight kiss on our foreheads.
For more information on Dr. Christian, go to: http://urgentcareda.weebly.com/what-we-do.html
Terrific post buut I waas wondering if you could write a liyte
more on this topic? I’d be very grateful if you could elaborate a little bit further.
Bledss you!
Our kids grow so fast sometimes we miss the joy.
We should all make time to keep the tradition because time is to short. Dr well done.
A good reminder of what life was before hmmm,welldone! Doc.
Some never had their parents to do what you mentioned and don’t know any bedtime stories as their moms were in faraway lands where as dad was absent. As that leader has never mention his dad.
It appears the morales of these stories never got to some of our leaders or may have never been kissed on the forehead let alone tucked into bed by a caring adult that’s why they turn out to be materialist and egoistic.
Does any leader come to mind?
Since when fathers putting children to bed?!
Things hard enough for us already. Doh make it harder.
A story our mother used to tell was about Cacarat, a poor step-child. They didn’t like her. They made her do all the work, and if they sharing anything, she was last, got leftovers or none at all.
It was the Ugly Duckling, Snow White and Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer all wrapped in one. But Doc, Cacarat not one of your top stories in your speeches?
Bedtime Stories. Nice twist there doc…memories!
There’s one story our mother told us that to this day I cannot get out of my mind.
It’s a story about a lady who flounced into the middle of mass in Senjo. She was wearing a dress that more sparkling than anything people had seen before. It was a Dominican who had returned home before the days when travel was so common. They accused her of being witch. They said she took out her skin, flew to England on a broomstick and stole the queen’s dress.
Maybe I’m mixing things up, but I don’t remember if they found her beaten up and pepper rubbed all over her body (to prevent her from putting back on her skin). I never got to know if this was a true incident or something Mama made up. Anyway, whenever I put on an outfit that gets me compliments, that story always comes back to mind.
I just don’t know why!
Is something wrong with me?