 When Sacaibou was walking across a plain he noticed something white covering a tree branch and realized it was a cotton tree. He took some of the seeds home and planted them. Much to his delight, they were growing into fine trees when he left to go on a hunting trip. When he returned, to his dismay, he found the trees had been torn up. He planted more, but each time he left, he came back to find they had been destroyed. As there was no one around but his son, Rairou, Sacaibou realized he was the one tearing up the trees and decided to punish him. He found a large armadillo (tatu) and put glue on its tail. He told the armadillo to go into its hole but leave its tail sticking out. Soon Rairou came by, saw the tail and thought the armadillo would make a fine dinner. He tried to pull it out but the armadillo was so strong it dragged Rairou into the hole and took him deep into the earth. When Rairou managed to free himself, he wandered around, meeting many different women and men. Just as he was wondering how to return to earth, some kind and handsome people showed him the way home. While Rairou was underground, Sacaibou’s trees grew and bore fruit. He was able to spin the bolls into thread. When Rairou reappeared, he told his father about his journey, all the while thinking about a way to revenge his father’s punishment. “Why don’t we bring up some of those beautiful people to live on the earth?” suggested Rairou. Sacaibou agreed. Rairou went down into the hole of the tatu while Sacaibou sat at the opening and let down a long strong thread of his cotton. After a while, he felt something light and quickly pulled up a man and a woman. Sacaibou saw kindness and beauty in their faces and smiled as they walked away. He dropped the line again, feeling a new and heavier pull. This time there were four ordinary looking men and women. He shrugged, watching them make their way into the world. Sacaibou dropped the line for a third time. It took him a while to pull the heavy bundle of people to the top, surprised to find six disagreeable people. Before he knew what to think, Rairou climbed up and said to his father, “This is my revenge. You will never be able to cover the earth with only good people. There will always be different sorts.” Sacaibou sat on the ground as the sun set. He thought about what happened.
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 There was once an old woman who lived quietly with her two dogs. One day she decided to visit her only relative, a great-granddaughter. Just before she left, she told her dogs to stay close to home and not wander. She’d been walking for a while when she met a fox. “Hey old woman, I’m going to eat you.” “Wait,” said the woman. “If you eat me now, all you’ll have is a bit of skin and bones. I’m on my way to see my great-granddaughter who will feed me well. Why don’t you wait until I return home? There will be more of me to eat.” The fox agreed. The old woman continued walking. All of a sudden a tiger jumped out, licking his lips. “Hey old woman, I’m going to eat you.” “You don’t want to eat me now, I’m nothing but skin and bones. Wait until I come back from visiting my great-granddaughter. She’ll fatten me up with delicious food.” The tiger agreed. She was close to her granddaughter’s house when a bear spotted her. “Old woman, I’m going to eat you.” The old woman looked at the bear and said, “If you eat me now you’ll feast on skin and bones. Wait until I come back from visiting my great-granddaughter. She’ll feed me well and I’ll be nice and plump.” The bear agreed. The old woman had a wonderful time with her great-granddaughter, who fed her delicious food. When she was preparing to leave, she told her about the fox, tiger, and bear who were waiting to eat her. Her great-granddaughter said, “Don’t worry. I will put you into a hollowed-out gourd with a bit to eat. All they will see is a weather-beaten gourd and you will be safe.” The old woman got into the gourd, settled herself comfortably, and was given a good push that sent it rolling toward her home. Soon the bear, who was waiting for the old woman, saw the gourd but didn’t find the woman inside, nor did it seem good to eat so he gave it a strong push and it rolled away. When the tiger saw the gourd, he sighed. Nothing to eat. He gave it a mighty push and it rolled away. When the fox saw the gourd, he wondered what was inside and gave it a strong kick. The shell broke open and out fell the old woman. “Hey old woman, you can’t trick me again, I’m going to eat you now.” The old woman said, “Of course, but it’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we go sit on top of that hill and I’ll share my rice with you.” When they were on top of the hill, she called to her dogs. “Quickly! Come to me!” Suddenly two enormous dogs rushed to the old woman and snarled at the fox, baring their teeth, barking furiously. Terrified, the fox ran away as fast as he could. The old woman and the dogs walked home in peace.  Little Duck lived in a pond with her family and lots of other young ducks. They were constantly warned, “Never, ever leave our pond. Downstream lives a monster just waiting to eat you . . . or worse.” “What does a monster look like?” asked Little Duck. No one knew for certain but they all had ideas. None of their answers satisfied Little Duck. One day, when no one was looking, she swam downstream. All she wanted was to have a bit of a look, but the monster caught her and would not let her go. “You will be my wife,” he told her. Little Duck refused and tried to escape, but the monster watched her closely. She could not find a way to go back to her home. Even though she became pregnant, he continued to keep watch. One night, when the monster could no longer stay awake, Little Duck escaped and swam back to the pond. Everyone was overjoyed to see her, welcoming her home. Once again Little Duck swam and splashed, delighted to be living among friends and family. But when she gave birth, her children did not look like the other duck children. They did not look like their mother. The other ducks were afraid of Little Duck’s children and told her, “Take your children and leave.” Little Duck tried to convince the ducks her babies could do no harm but they would not listen. “Babies grow up. They are children of the monster. They will hurt us when they can.” Little Duck gathered her babies and left the pond, swimming upstream until she came to a big lake. Here her children grew and flourished. In time they mated and had children of their own. Their children looked like their parents. None looked like Little Duck. Her children were ashamed of her. “You must leave our lake. You do not look like us.” Little Duck took one last look at her children and grandchildren. With an aching heart she swam away, into unknown waters, toward a new life. *Also titled: How Platypuses Came to Australia  Ratu needed a tree to make a new canoe so he went to the forest and picked out the tallest and straightest tree he could find. With his sharpened axe, he chopped down the tree and went home to rest before cutting it into smaller pieces. When he returned, the tree was standing as tall and straight as it was before he chopped it down. Astonished, he cut the tree down once more and this time, he chopped off the branches. The next morning when he went to cut the trunk into pieces for his canoe, once again the tree was standing straight and tall. He was so determined to use this tree to make his canoe he cut it down for a third time. This time, he not only chopped off all the branches, he cut the trunk in pieces that were the right size for his canoe. Too tired to continue, he decided to return at sunrise to finish. Just before dawn, as he approached the tree, he heard fluttering and buzzing and chirping and droning. He hid behind thick bushes and watched. All the birds and animals and insects that lived in the tree were putting it back together branch by branch, leaf by leaf, fitting the bark together as if it were a puzzle. Ratu’s anger grew as he watched the spirits of the forest pull the tree upright. He rushed toward them and yelled, “Stop! This is my tree. I need it to make my canoe.” The creatures gathered behind the spirits and with one voice they asked, “ Who gave you permission to kill one of our trees?”  There was once a husband and wife who had everything they could wish for—except children. They were so unhappy the husband decided to consult a magician. After seeing his distress, the magician said, “Go home. Your wish is granted.” Imagine Stan’s surprise when he opened the front door and saw oodles of children of every size, shape, color, and personality. “How will we feed all our children?” he asked his wife. “We’ll make a garden. You go and see what you can find,” she said The next morning he left to find work but no one would hire him. Stopping to rest, he saw a shepherd tending his sheep. All he could think about was the fine dinner even one sheep would make. Suddenly he heard a horrendous noise, so loud the ground shook. A dragon swooped down, scooped up a lamb in each claw and flew away. Stan helped the shepherd gather the frightened sheep and in return, the shepherd gave him half his dinner. He told Stan how worried he was. “If this keeps up, I’ll soon have no more sheep.” “Hmm,” said Stan, “If I rid you of the dragon, how will you reward me?” “It’s not likely you can, but if you do, I’ll give you enough sheep to start your own herd.” For the rest of the day and most of the next, as he herded sheep Stan tried to think of ways to stop the dragon from stealing them but memories of the dreadful noise drowned out his thoughts. After dinner, when the dragon appeared, rushing toward the sheep, the sound was even more horrible than the night before. Terrified, Stan shouted, “Stop your atrocious noise or I will . . .” The dragon was so startled it stopped in mid-flight, landed and asked, “Who are you?” Stan’s fear spoke for him. “I am Stan, the mighty man. I eat dragons for breakfast. These sheep are mine. Leave now or I will eat you.” “Go ahead, eat me.” Stan stepped forward, knife and fork in hand. “Well,” said the dragon, “if these sheep are yours, I better look elsewhere.” He flapped his wings, ready to leave. “Just a moment,” snarled Stan. “You’ve eaten a lot of my sheep. You need to pay me for my losses. That man over there,” he said, pointing to the shepherd, “knows the exact amount due. Pay up or else!” “I don’t have any money, but my mother does. If you come with me and prove you’re stronger than I am, and if she likes you, she’ll give you more gold than you can carry.” Stan’s terror turned to amazement. He felt himself grow strong and bold. “Lead me to her,” he growled as best he could. The dragon’s mother was bigger and more fearsome than her son. Stan was terrified but thinking about his children gave him courage. “I heard you say you’re stronger than my son. Show me!” She gave her son an enormous barrel. “Throw it as far as you can.” It fell so far Stan could hardly see it. “Your turn,” said the dragon. “Oh,” said Stan, thinking quickly. “It’s a pity I might kill you with this barrel.” “What?” yelped the dragon. Stan explained how a magician had given him a gift. Anything he threw would come back and hit the owner. “Well,” said the dragon, not wanting to die, “in that case, my mother will give you another test. Stan agreed, pretending he was annoyed. The dragon told his mother she needed to give them another test. “Very well,” she said. “The one who is stronger will carry the most water.” The dragon lifted the heavy pail, filled it up and was back in an instant. “Your turn,” he said to Stan. Stan bent down. With his pocketknife he began to dig up earth. “No sense carrying a pail when I can dig a new well close by.” “Stop!” yelled the dragon. That well was dug by my great-great-grandfather. It mustn’t be disturbed. “I’ll carry the water for you.” Stan kept digging. “I’ll give you twice the gold I promised if you’ll stop digging. He filled and emptied the pail twice. When the dragon’s mother saw how much water she thought Stan had carried she devised another plan. The next morning the dragon’s mother said, “Let’s see who can collect the most wood in the next hour.” The dragon had no trouble lifting huge oaks out of the ground, but Stan climbed to the top of the highest tree and noticed a vine creeping up toward him. He tied it to a strong branch, then climbed to the top of a second tree. When he noticed the dragon watching him, Stan explained, “It’s too much trouble uprooting one tree at a time. I’ll tie all of the tallest trees with this vine and pull them up all together.” “No!” yelled the dragon. “My great-great grandmother planted this forest you mustn’t ruin it.” “Very well, but this is the last time I’m going to stop. Once I start something I finish it.” The dragon’s mother decided it didn’t matter who was stronger. She wanted him gone. ‘Very well,” said Stan, “but if you want me to leave, your son will have to carry me and the gold back to my home.” Quicker than an eye can blink, the dragon loaded up the gold, put Stan on his back, and flew down to earth. As they approached the house, Stan heard his children laughing. “Maybe you better stop here,” he said to the dragon. “I have lots of children and they’re all stronger . . . Before he could say another word, the dragon dumped him and the gold and flew off. Stan laughed. Hmm, he thought, there’s enough gold here to feed and clothe my children for the rest of their lives. Not bad for three days work.  Father Sparrow was grumpy. “I went to the river to bathe in our favorite place,” he told Mother Sparrow who was sitting in the nest on her eggs, “and there was Crocodile, splashing muddy water everywhere. When I politely asked him to be more careful, he told me to find another place.” As if this wasn’t bad enough, suddenly there was an enormous jolt, nearly toppling the nest. Father Sparrow saw Brother Elephant walking away. He yelled, “Hey Brother, you nearly pushed my wife off the nest. She’s sitting on our eggs you know. She almost fell. The eggs nearly spilled out.” Brother Elephant shrugged and began to walk away, without an apology. Father Sparrow was so mad he warned, “If you do this again I’ll tie you up and you’ll never get out.” Brother Elephant laughed. “Go ahead. Tie me up. There aren’t enough sparrows in the world to keep me from untying myself.” He kept on walking and bumping into trees. When Father Sparrow went to have his afternoon bath, he became even more angry; Crocodile was still splashing, muddying up the water. “If you are in this pool when I come to bathe next time, I will tie you up.” Crocodile grinned, splashing even more ferociously. “Go ahead, Tie me up. With my sharp teeth there isn’t a rope strong enough to keep me from freeing myself.” Father Sparrow flew back to the nest. He and Mother Sparrow made their plan. After singing for help from friends and relatives, hundreds of sparrows appeared, approved the plan, and went to work twisting and plating green creeper vines. Pretty soon Brother Elephant came crashing through the forest, into the tree where Mother Sparrow was nesting. “Ready to tie me up?” sneered Brother Elephant. Father Sparrow and Mother Sparrow looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, we are.” With a nod, all the sparrows holding up the long green rope in their mouths flew up and down, in and out, around Brother Elephant’s body until he was bound as tightly as the sparrows could manage. Brother Elephant laughed, ready to burst out. Mother Sparrow said politely, “We would greatly appreciate it if you would lie here, just for a few minutes, if you wouldn’t mind.” “As you like,” snickered Brother Elephant. The sparrows flew away, holding the rope, twisting and turning it among and around bushes and trees, choosing the strongest plants with the deepest roots. When they came to the river Crocodile saw the rope and giggled. “Go ahead, tie me up. Have fun.” The sparrows began twisting and pushing and pulling, in and out, up and down, around and around until the green rope was tight against Crocodile’s body. “Now, when I say pull, pull as hard as you can and don’t stop until you’re free,” yelled Father Sparrow to Brother Elephant and then to Crocodile. When all the sparrows had flown to the tops of trees to watch, Father Sparrow shouted, “Pull!” All of a sudden Crocodile’s body was jerked out of the water, up on to the riverbank, slithering against nettles and thorns. When he tried to gnaw the rope, it tightened. At the same time, Brother Elephant found himself dragged toward the river, crashing into sharp-edged bushes and sturdy trees. The harder they pulled, the more tangled they became. As sunset approached, neither animal was any closer to freeing himself. Pride kept them silent. When Crocodile saw other animals approach the river to drink and bathe. he finally spoke to Father Sparrow. “You are stronger than I thought. If you untie me, I promise never to use your bathing place again.” When Brother Elephant saw animals laughing at his condition, he whispered to Father Sparrow, “If you untie me, I promise never to bump into trees ever again.” Father and Mother Sparrow talked it over. Soon, all the sparrow hopped and pulled and pushed and pecked until Crocodile was free. Mortified, he murmured a weak thank you and slithered away. The sparrows then freed Elephant, who couldn’t believe a tiny bird could be so strong. From that day on, Father Sparrow enjoyed his daily bath and Mother Sparrow sat on her eggs with no fear of falling out of the tree  Once upon a time there lived a shoemaker and his wife who worked hard yet had barely enough money to live on. One day, the shoemaker looked around his shop and found only one small piece of leather. He began making a pair of shoes but it grew late and he stopped before the shoes were finished. The next morning, when the shoemaker entered his shop, he discovered someone had finished the shoes. He sold the shoes and used the money to buy more leather. He worked all day cutting and shaping the new leather but left before he could make the shoes. The next morning, much to his astonishment, once again someone had finished the shoes. He sold them for enough money to buy more leather and spent the day cutting and shaping pieces ready to be made into boots, sandals, and shoes. Grateful for the help, the shoemaker continued to leave pieces of leather cut and shaped, returning in the morning to find the footwear ready to sell. He soon developed a reputation for fine work, with customers lining up to be measured. Eventually the shoemaker and his wife no longer had to worry about money. One day, his wife said to her husband, “I think we should find out who is helping us. Perhaps we can do something to help in return. The shoemaker agreed. That night, they hid in the workshop, waiting anxiously. They did not have long to wait. Two elves dressed in torn and threadbare clothing sang as they worked, quickly finishing all that had been cut. When the elves left, the wife said to her husband, “They have done so much for us. It is cold. Their clothes are too ragged to keep them warm. I will make them winter clothing. While she sewed, her husband made two pairs of tiny boots for their feet. The next morning, the clothes and boots had disappeared. The elves never returned, but the shoemaker had enough leather to make all the footwear his customers requested. He and his wife continued to prosper.  When the creator Baiame no longer walked the earth, the flowers and trees all died except for three trees that he marked as his own. Only here could bees make honey. Only here could parents show their children how the earth used to look when flowers and trees graced the earth. They longed to taste the honey yet dared not. After seeing their longing, the All-seeing spirit told Baiame how people appreciated his trees, yearning to taste the honey. As a reward for their respect, Baiame sent them goonbeams and manna though the drought continued. The earth remained bare. The children were delighted with the new found food but the older people mourned the absence of life as it had been. One day, a group of elders decided to journey to Baiame to plead with him to restore the earth, to return the flowers and trees. Just before dawn, they traveled to the foot of the great mountain, searching for the path of stone steps, cut by the spirit of Baiame. They climbed for four days and four nights, unwilling to rest before reaching the summit. At the top, too exhausted to go any further, they drank from a spring of fresh water that quenched their thirst and revived their spirits. In the distance, they saw stones piled in the shape of a circle. No longer tired, they made their way to the center of the circle. Here they heard the voice of Baiame’s spirit messenger who asked why they had come. They told the spirit how all but the three trees of Baiame died when he no longer walked the earth, how the bees disappeared. They asked how the flowers and trees and bees could be restored, the earth fragrant and fertile. The spirit messenger told the attendant spirits to lift the elders to the place of Baiame, where flowers and trees bloomed eternally. Through their tears, the elders gasped with awe at the sight of so much beauty. They listened carefully as Baiame told them how to return fertility to the earth. Following his teachings, the elders gathered as many different trees and flowers as they could hold. The spirits then carried the elders down into the stone circle where they learned how to cradle the tiny plants and carry them to safety. The people of the earth welcomed the elders, looking with awe and astonishment at the brilliant colors, smelling the sweet fragrances, welcoming the bees gathering nectar. Once more trees and flowers graced the earth filling the hearts of the people with hope and joy. As the spirits foretold, there are still times of drought, when the goonbeams and manna take the place of honey, but the trees and flowers thrive, sheltering the bees who return with the new rains.  The people were bumping around in the dark and the cold. Someone asked, “Is this all there is? Will there never be anything more?” No one could answer for it was the only world they knew. They continued to live in their cold dark world until one day, a strange animal appeared. They asked it, “Is this the only world there is?” The strange creature answered, “I do not know, but sometimes, I go to a place that feels different.” “How is it different?” “I cannot tell you for I am blind. All I can say is that it feels different.” One brave person asked, “Will you take us to the place that feels different?” “Yes,” answered the creature whose name was Mole. “I can take you to that place, but you must know that when I travel, I dig out the earth in front of me and then put it behind me. If you come with me you will never be able to return to where you came from.” The people talked among themselves. Some were frightened to leave the only place they had ever known. Others were willing to try anything to live a better life. And so it was that Mole burrowed his way to the place that felt different, digging out the earth in front of him, passing the earth back to the people who put it behind them. It was a long difficult journey. People complained. They were tired and cold. It was still dark. Some longed to be where they had been. At least there they could stand up. Then, without warning, Mole said, “This is the place that feels different. This is where I must leave you.” No one knew what to do. Although it was dark, it did feel different; it was not as cold. People began to walk around and a few ventured out into a place that hurt their eyes so badly they retreated into the dark, crying and moaning in pain. Now there were many who wished they had never left the place where they had lived for so long. In the dark, nursing their eyes, they heard a small kind voice. “Hush my children, do not cry. Listen to me.” “Who are you?” they asked. “I am your Grandmother Spider. I am here to help you. If you do as I tell you, all will be well. Your eyes hurt because they are not used to light. The sun is very bright. You must give your eyes time to learn to see light. When you walk outside, keep your fingers closed in front of your closed eyes. Slowly, open your fingers. Take a few breaths, then open your eyes. Never look at the sun for it will hurt your eyes. Do as I say. Your eyes will thank you.” People followed Grandmother Spider’s advice and it was as she promised. Their eyes learned to see. But all too soon the light began to disappear. Not knowing what else to do, the people huddled together in the dark, wondering and waiting, too frightened to leave. Once again Grandmother Spider spoke to them. “Hush my children, do not despair. All shall be well if you listen to me. The light will return. When it does, you will see four mountains. To the north is White Mountain. Do not go there for you will find only ice and snow and you will freeze to death. To the east is Red Mountain. Do not go there for you will encounter fierce creatures and you will bleed to death. To the west is Black Mountain. Do not go there for your crops will not grow and you will starve to death. To the south is Green Mountain. It is the furthest and the path is uncertain, but if you keep your eyes on Green Mountain you will find your way. And, when you see a creature that reminds you of Grandmother Spider, but is not Grandmother Spider, and a creature that reminds you of Mole, but is not Mole, you will know you have arrived.” And so, just as Grandmother foretold, the light returned. Some people looked at White Mountain and said, “White Mountain is not far and we are not afraid of cold. We will tell you what we find when we return. They never came back. Soon, a few people became restless and said, “Black Mountain is quite close. We know how to manage darkness. We will tell you what we find when we come back. But they too did not return. “We are not afraid of fierce creatures,” said all but two of the people who remained. “Why walk a long distance when there is Red Mountain, a place we can see. We will fight whoever attacks us and win. We will tell you what we find when we return.” None of them were seen again. Now only one man and one woman were left. Even in the bright sun, they could barely see Green Mountain. The woman said, “I think Grandmother Spider spoke truth. We must walk to Green Mountain if we wish to survive.” The man agreed and they began walking toward the south. It was a long journey. Walking in the hot sun was exhausting. The memory of those who had not returned kept them from giving up. They walked and walked and walked toward the mountain that seemed to keep its distance; it was all they knew to do. One morning, as they stopped to rest, the woman saw a strange creature passing by her. Cautiously, she moved closer to it. The man said, “Be careful, it might be dangerous.” The woman kept looking. The man joined her and they crept close enough to see the markings on the creature’s back. “Look, said the woman,” it reminds me of Grandmother Spider.” When the creature heard the woman’s words, it pulled in its head. “Oh,” said the man. “It cannot see where it is going. It reminds me of Mole.” The man and the woman remembered the words of Grandmother Spider. They had arrived at Green Mountain. They had come to the place that was home.  There was once a woman who kept all her songs and stories to herself because no was willing to listen to them. All of her memories and longings remained buried deep within. After a time, her stories and songs grew restless—they wanted to be heard. They struggled to come out, but the woman could not share them. Finally, they made their way into her dreams. While she slept, she tossed and turned as the dreams roiled around inside her. She woke up, confused. “What’s the matter?” asked her husband? “I don’t know,” she replied. One morning she was so tired that after her husband left for work she lay down on the kitchen floor and fell sound asleep. Her mouth opened and she began to snore. The stories and songs escaped into the air, hovered above her, watching her sleep. “We cannot leave her like this,” they said. “What will she do without us?” The stories turned themselves into a robe and hung on a peg by the bedroom door. The songs became slippers and rested underneath. That night when her husband returned from work, he got suspicious. “Who was here while I was gone?” “No one.” “Who do those slippers and robe belong to?” “I don’t know,” she said. They argued. When night fell they were still arguing. Now in that village it is a custom that when a couple disagrees and can’t settle their disputes by the end of the day, the husband spends the night in the Temple of the Monkey King. The husband stormed out of the house and went to the temple. He lay down to sleep in one of its darkened rooms. The wife sat at the kitchen table trying to make sense of what had happened. Finally, she blew out the candle, put her head down on the table, and fell asleep. Each night, in that village, when people put out the candles, the flames go to the Temple of the Monkey King to chatter and discuss the day’s events. As the husband lay on the floor, one by one, the candle flames danced into the darkened room where he slept. They chatted, waiting for all the tongues of flames to arrive. After a while it was clear that one flame was late. “Where is it?” a flame sputtered. Finally, the last flame showed up. “Where have you been?” they wanted to know. “My couple had an argument. The husband came home and found a strange robe and slippers by the bedroom door. “Oh, he must have been angry!” the others exclaimed. “Yes,” he was, “but it isn’t what he thinks. The woman has stories to tell and songs to sing but no one ever listens. All her life she has kept them locked up inside her. This morning while she slept, they found a way to turn the stories into a robe and the songs into slippers.” The husband, wakened by the flames, heard what had happened. He immediately left the Temple of the Monkey King and ran back home. In the moonlight, he could see his wife slumped over the kitchen table. He awakened her gently, putting the robe around her shoulders and the slippers on her feet. Then, he sat down beside her, and said, “Tell me your stories. Sing me your songs. I am here. I will listen.” |
World TalesAge old stories of wit and wisdom from around the world. Tales retold by Nancy King. Archives
April 2025
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Nancy King is a widely published author and a professor emerita at the University of Delaware, where she has taught theater, drama, playwriting, creative writing, and multidisciplinary studies with an emphasis on world literature. She has published seven previous works of nonfiction and five novels. Her new memoir, Breaking the Silence, explores the power of stories in healing from trauma and abuse. Her career has emphasized the use of her own experience in being silenced to encourage students to find their voices and to express their thoughts, feelings, and experiences with authenticity, as a way to add meaning to their lives.
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