Reflections on the storytelling evening Crossing Borders hosted in collaboration with the Silvers on 21 November 2024 in Copenhagen. Titled Tell Your Story, You Exist, the evening utilized two universal social spaces—storytelling and food—as a framework. Storytelling is profoundly powerful and ingrained in our identities as individuals, as well as being an essential part of human culture. One could argue: we are our stories. Without stories, we cannot communicate, interact, or participate in conversations meaningfully. The same applies to food, without which we cannot exist. Hence, unlike René Descartes, who declared, I think, therefore I am, I would instead say, I tell my story, therefore I am. In our information-overloaded society, storytelling has become even more vital. Gathering a diverse group of participants from across the globe—including Argentina, Brazil, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, Egypt, Germany, India, Iran, Ireland, Malaysia, Nigeria, Turkey, and more—the event began with participants talking in pairs, then presenting each other as the stars of the night. These presentations focused on the person’s interests, passions, and key moments in their life journeys that shaped who they are. Age, education, occupation, and other technical aspects were omitted. It was challenging to avoid the usual format of, My name is, I am this age, I studied that, and I work as such. Excluding such details prevented those unemployed from feeling worthless or lacking a professional identity. Next, I shared a portion of my own life story. Starting with life in the tiny village where I grew up with my parents, seven siblings, and other extended family members. As Fulani cowboys, our lives revolved around cows. About 99% of the people were illiterate and resisted sending their children to the French colonial school, where children often lost more than they gained. The school was like a torture camp—local languages were banned, children were brainwashed to reject their culture, and worst of all, their stories. The colonists claimed there was no history before their arrival, undermining self-worth and confidence. Many children left school knowing little more than how to say, I don’t know, I don’t dare, and I can’t. In defiance of colonial propaganda, the locals preserved their culture through storytelling and hands-on learning. Many stories were shared at night in open-air circles around a fire. I then narrated one such story from Africa, specifically from Ethiopia. It tells how a woman tamed her husband. A long time ago, there was a young, irresistibly beautiful woman. Many young men competed for her hand in marriage. She declared that she would marry the man who told the most beautiful story. Each suitor was tasked with composing and telling his story at a set time and place. The public would listen and choose the best storyteller. She would marry the winner. The men worked tirelessly to create their stories. When the time came, the woman chose the man with the most exciting story, which happened to be about how a woman tamed her husband. She married him, and they lived happily together for several years. However, as the locals say, love is like a garden—it needs constant care and watering, or it will wither. This is exactly what happened. Over time, her husband became distracted, lost interest in her, and stopped noticing whether she was happy, sad, or unwell. Feeling miserable, the woman sought help from the village medicine man. She explained her troubles, and he listened empathetically. He told her, “I can help you, but you must bring me three hairs from the mane of a living lion.” The woman thought this task sounded simple but soon realized its difficulty. She remembered that a fierce lion roamed near her village every night, snatching small animals like lambs. Using her beautiful singing voice—a talent that had once captivated men—she approached the lion’s path one night, carrying a lamb. She sang softly, leaving the lamb for the lion. This continued for several nights until the lion began to recognize her voice. Over time, the lion became calm and even approached her with its ears lowered and tail wagging. One night, the lion laid its head on her lap, and she gently stroked its mane, plucking three hairs. As soon as the lion fell asleep, she quietly left. Triumphantly, she delivered the hairs to the medicine man, who smiled and said, “Now you have solved the problem.” As is common with African stories, this one ends with a question: What did the medicine man mean when he said, Now you have solved the problem? The participants guessed the answer. The evening then transitioned to dinner and wine, with reflections on the story before playing a card game. Each participant drew a card with prompts such as, Tell a story when you were in danger, received a nice gift, felt embarrassed, broke the law, and so on. Each story sparked another, creating a cascade of narratives. Thank you for the storytelling night, which hopefully reminded us of the necessity for everyone to have the right and space to share their stories—to fully be. -Garba Diallo, Director of Crossing Borders
