By: Chioma Madonna Ndukwu
Africa’s Talking Drum: The Village That Banished Laughter
In the quiet highlands of Bemora, laughter was once everywhere. Children laughed while chasing goats through narrow paths. Women laughed at the riverbanks while washing clothes. Even old men playing bao beneath the iroko tree filled the evenings with cheerful noise.
The people believed laughter kept the village alive. Then Chief Hornbill rose to power. Hornbill was respected for his discipline and sharp mind, but he disliked disorder of any kind.
“Too much laughter breeds carelessness,” he often said. “A serious village becomes a powerful village.”At first, his words sounded wise. Soon, new rules appeared across Bemora.
Drumming after sunset was forbidden. Street performers disappeared from the markets. Festivals were shortened “to improve productivity.” Even children were warned not to make noise near government compounds.
Gradually, the village became quieter. Very quiet. At first, outsiders admired Bemora’s orderliness. “Look how disciplined these people are,” travelers whispered.
But beneath the silence, something strange was happening. Neighbors stopped visiting one another. Young people became withdrawn. The markets lost their warmth. Without realizing it, the village had become heavy with fear.
One dry evening, a little girl slipped near the village square and fell into a basket of cassava. The sight was so unexpected that an old woman nearby burst into laughter before quickly covering her mouth in terror.
But something surprising followed. Another person laughed. Then another. Soon, laughter spread across the square like wildfire after months of silence.
For the first time in years, Bemora sounded alive again. Chief Hornbill emerged angrily from his compound demanding silence.
But as he stared at the villagers laughing together beneath the setting sun, even he noticed something he had ignored for too long:
The people looked happier, more human. An old drummer stepped forward gently. “A village without joy,” he said, “may survive… but it will slowly forget how to live.”
The words settled deeply over Bemora. From that day onward, the village changed. Discipline remained.
Work continued. But music, storytelling, festivals, and laughter returned to the people once more. And the kingdom discovered that strength without joy eventually becomes emptiness.
Moral: A society that suppresses joy in the name of control may slowly lose its humanity.
Do you think fear and excessive control can make societies emotionally disconnected over time?
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