MAMA KOKO AND THE WORLD WITHOUT SHADOWS
A tale from the journeys of Mama Koko, the wandering grandmother of wisdom.
Long ago, when stories still walked beside humans like old friends, there lived a legendary woman known simply as Mama Koko. Her back
Mama Koko traveled from village to village, gathering tales and leaving wisdom behind like seeds. But her most mysterious journey began one harmattan morning when she felt the wind calling her name.
“Kooo—koooo—KOKO!”
She tightened her headscarf, packed three roasted plantains, and followed the whispering wind until she reached a strange land she had never visited before—
a land where the sun shone bright…
…but nobody had a shadow.
Children played in the dust, but the ground beneath them stayed empty. Hunters walked to the forest, but no dark shapes followed their feet. Even the tall palm trees stood alone, unaccompanied by their silhouettes.
Mama Koko frowned.
“Ah! This world has no balance. Where a person walks without a shadow, trouble is near.”
She soon discovered that an old spirit, Ndege the Light Eater, had swallowed all the shadows so people would forget who they truly were. Without shadows, they forgot their fears, their mistakes, their dreams—everything that made them whole.
The people of that land laughed too loudly, worked too little, and argued over foolish things. Without shadows to ground them, they behaved like leaves tossed by the wind.
Mama Koko raised her walking stick.
“Enough! Even a lion cannot walk without its shadow.”
She traveled to the Spirit Mountain, where Ndege lived—half bird, half fire, with wings that glowed like the sun. The creature screeched, its voice sizzling in the air.
“Old woman, why have you come?”
Mama Koko struck the ground with her stick.
“Return the shadows, Ndege. Light without shadow is blindness.”
Ndege laughed.
“If I return them, what do I gain?”
“A story,” Mama Koko said simply.
Now, spirits—no matter how powerful—cannot resist a good story.
So she told Ndege a tale so enchanting that even the wind held its breath. It was the story of Night’s first dance with Day, of how stars learned to twinkle, of how humans gained their voices after trading silence with the moon.
By the time Mama Koko finished, Ndege blinked slowly.
“That was… beautiful.”
“Then release what isn’t yours,” Mama Koko said.
With a great cry, Ndege opened its burning beak—and shadows poured out like dark river water, rushing back to their owners.
People gasped as their shadows returned, stretching, yawning, and settling behind them.
Balance was restored.
The villagers celebrated Mama Koko, offering her kola nuts, palm wine, and a cloth woven with sun and moon patterns.
But before they could thank her properly, she had already started walking away, humming her old traveling song.
For Mama Koko never stayed where she was praised.
She walked where stories needed mending.
And if you ever find your shadow acting strangely—stretching too long or dancing before you move—know that somewhere, Mama Koko is nearby, reminding the world to stay balanced.