Showing posts with label books for children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books for children. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Let Us Sing a Story of Abiyoyo

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Once upon a time....How often have we heard these words, how often have we uttered them too. We grew up listening to stories. And when it was our turn to become narrators, these were the words with which we began our tales. Stories have been with us since the time we were born. Stories are fluid definitions of our consciousness. There is a story behind every single thing, living as well as non-living, real as well as imaginary. Stories have been part of different cultures around the world for ages. Be it the oral tradition in the form of folklore or the written word, these yarns have helped shape our minds. Our imagination has been fueled. Our worlds have been transformed. And we have traveled through time and space through the power of these narratives.


To tell a story to a child is perhaps the most fulfilling experience one can have. The wonder in a child's eye, the peaked up curiosity, the million questions that they ask, the titillating display of their giggles - all this adds to the delight of story-telling. Stories are also a medium to generate in the young minds a sense of inquiry. Understanding what constitutes good conduct is something that easily navigates to the child's mind with the help of a simple story. What is the best way out of a seemingly unconquerable hurdle is another thing that they learn through stories.

Stories fall in many genres. Folk-tales is one such genre. Specific to cultures, folk-tales have a characteristic way of putting on a performance of characters, real as well as make-believe. One would often notice a child asking, "Did giants really exist in the olden days, Mom?" Animals, monsters, giants, fairies, inanimate objects - they all have a fair share of role to play in folktales. These tales have no author. They have seeped down from one generation to another, by word of mouth. Often accompanied by peppy music instruments, like the banjo, folk tales have managed to entertain kids and adults alike. They always have a message to give.

The other day, my son told me an interesting tale he heard in his music class. It is the story of Abiyoyo, a South African folktale. After hearing the story from my son, I googled and found out the story. As  I read it myself, I was amazed as I realized that my son had managed to tell me each and every detail of the story. He had not missed anything. Was it just the plot that was catchy? No. It was the magic of music that they had played alongside the story. It was the rain-sticks that they had used to bring in some peppiness to the plot as they imagined the heavy footsteps of the approaching Abiyoyo. I could well imagine a whole bunch of lively kids feeding their imagination as they sang the story and played the musical instruments their teacher had provided them. Let me tell you in brief the story of Abiyoyo.

Once upon a time, there lived a man who used to practice magic tricks on everyone. He had a son who liked to play ukulele. The people in the town did not like the sound of the music instrument he played. They also did not like the little fun the father had at the expense of everyone. His simple magic tricks tricked everyone and one day, they all said that they had had enough of the tomfoolery. So, together, they drove the two out of town. The father and the son lived at the periphery, ostracized, and unloved. One day, there was a loud shaking of the ground. People screamed that Abiyoyo had come. The father told his son that if the monster would lie down on the ground, he would be able to make him disappear. The son asked his father to come along. They headed toward the monster while the people looked in shock at what the pair was up to. The boy started playing his ukulele. He sang: 



♪.... Abiyoyo ♪ Abiyoyo....


♪......Abiyoyo.....♪.....Aboyoyo....




Abiyoyo


The monster having never heard his name like that started dancing. The beat catch up and Abiyoyo tried to match the tempo of the music. In the haste, he fell down. As he stumbled, the father wasted no time to ''''zooop''''... perform his disappearing act. Abiyoyo was gone. And so was gone the indifference of the people around him. 




The story can be read in a variety of ways. It can be read as a celebration of the uniqueness of the father and the son, even though they are not loved and respected by the people at first. It can also be read as a triumph of one's belief in one's talent. It can be read as a tale of facing the fear in order to vanquish it. That is the beauty of a folk-tale. The giant may not exist as a physical being out there waiting to quash us. It is present in the many obstacles the society throws in front of us. It can also be our self-created notions of failure and lack of confidence. Abiyoyo helps us tell that it can all be done away with, only if we try. 

The fact that the story is accompanied with music adds to the over-all effect it has on the listeners. It makes room for engagement and participation. When the listener starts to participate in the process of story-telling, s/he is already living that story. And the way the story ends is bound to leave an indelible imprint on the mind. For a child, whose mind is like a blank slate, these imprints are crucial in that they will have long-lasting impact on his power of critical thinking. They will help him figure out things in his own life for a long time too.

Our bodies are made to react. Our minds are attuned to respond. We are responsive-reactive beings. Things and people around influence us. The way the influence works on us impacts our very being. The way we think, the way we feel, the way we act. This is all the more effective when it comes to young minds. So let us start the music. Let us sing a story today. Let us tell them of times gone by, and of times to come. Let us sing them songs of valor and victory, defeat and resilience, obstacles and persistence, fairies and demons, reality and imagination. Let them dance and sway. Let them enjoy as they learn to live well and live wisely.

I recently also read these folktales to my son. Do check these out. I am sure your kids and the child inside you, are all going to find amusement and delight in these narrative folk gems.


Mabela the Clever




Zomo the Rabbit




Tunjur, Tunjur, Tunjur



Indian Tales - A Barefoot Collection





This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

For My Friend Fly

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My son these days has been reading level 1 books and one of his favorites is the Fly Guy series. The first time he brought one of the Fly guy book, I wasn't amused. It just didn't hit the right chord in me. A few days later, another Fly Guy....this time Fly Guy vs. The Fly swatter. I felt an impulse to pick it up and read it. And how I thank my stars that I did that! While reading the book, I started enjoying and I suddenly remembered our India trip when my son was about three years of age. Having been born and brought up in India, things that were there were just there for me....normal, everyday, routine things. But for my son, it was the first time when he was discovering his surroundings. So, picture this....My son is sitting in his room and a fly comes in. Imagine the terrified look such a common and puny creature brought on his face. Yes, yes, I am talking about the makhkhi....the everyday visitor in almost all the houses in India. Visualize my son screaming at the highest pitch possible.....a scream that made me jump wherever I was and as I came rushing to him, terrified that he might have spotted a lizard ...(yikes! I am soooo..... scared of them...), my son said, "Mama...there is a bug in the room and it will bite me..." I looked up and I looked low. I picked up the pillows. I dusted my bed.....But there was no bug. Then again....the scream....."Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......It's there...". There it sure was....right on the bed's edge, cozy, lazy housefly. I have to admit that I couldn't help and I started laughing. All this while my son stood petrified, hugging me tightly and really really infuriated at my laugh. My mom-in-law rushed from the other room and when I told her what had happened, she started laughing too....but very mindful laughing it was, mind you. She had seen her troubled grandson and she took him in her embrace and said, "yeh to makhkhi hai....ek makhkhi se darta hai beta.....kaise rahega yahan...."(This is just a fly.....you are scared of a fly.....how are you going to live here... ). 

The little fly had disappeared in the meantime and my son started playing again. I explained to him that flies come and go. 'They will not bite you.....but make sure they don't touch what you eat as then your food will get dirty.' He understood and went on with the day. The next day was fly day again....actually from that day, all days became fly days. When he saw the fly next time, my son exclaimed, " Look mama, my friend makhkhi!". This time I was amused more than I had been when he had screamed. The regular visitor was never seen as one having the potential to be a friend. It never entered the house that way but it came to stay there as a friend. My son would quietly observe the fly from a distance. He would sometimes shoo it away and sometimes keep some pretend food for it to eat. And nobody dared mess with his little friend. I am glad that it is difficult to distinguish one fly from the other as my son always thought that the fly that was there in his house was also travelling with him...actually following his friend wherever he went. I did my part be cleaning the corners of the windows and every other possible place where my son could have spotted a dead fly. It may sound hilarious but for a little heart, death in this tiny stature would have assumed a state of enormity. I smile today as I write this.

My son has read The Fly guy vs. The Fly Swatter at least ten times in these two days. When I ask him to do his homework, he first picks up the book and reads it and then he does his homework. I browsed amazon to find more books in this series and came across a harsh review that just couldn't digest the fly....oops....I mean that just couldn't digest the fact that fly can be a pet too. I myself had been biased initially but after reading the book (and having had a similar experience in life), I felt how mighty is the human brain that can conjure up things inconceivable and unacceptable to a common mind. And how open a child's mind is. I also googled up to find some literary stuff on a fly, and SURPRISE!!!!!.....WILLIAM BLAKE.....THE FLY......!!!

Little Fly/ Thy summer's play,
My thoughtless hand/ Has brush'd away.
Am not I/ A fly like thee?
Or art not thou/ A man like me?

What better way could a fragile fly be immortalized than this.....
Needless to say, our friend fly has gone places. From noses and soups to garbage bins and Fly Guy's pocket and from the corner of the windowsill to the literary gaze of a great poet, the fly flies and amuses.



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