In a small village nestled in the Atlas mountains in Morocco, there lived an old man named Jack. At ninety years old, he was known for his remarkable strength and endurance. Every morning Jack would venture into the forest to chop wood for the village. He’d swing his ax with precision and power, splitting logs with ease, his muscles rippling beneath his worn, blue flannel shirt. As the seasons passed, Jack’s wood pile grew and so did his reputation. Jack could provide people with raw materials such as firewood, charcoal for cooking and other purposes. People from neighboring villages would marvel at his skills and purchase his neatly stacked cords of wood. Jack took pride in his work, ensuring each log was perfectly split and seasoned to burn warm and long. His dedication and craftsmanship earned him the nickname, “The Wood Chopper Master.” As Jack emerged from the trees after chopping wood, he always felt changed. The act of chopping wood helped him to become a part of something greater than himself. He saw visions of the past and present, and glimpsed the threads of fate that connected all living things. The villagers looked to him with respect, and Jack continued his legacy, chopping wood with a sense of purpose and responsibility to protect the forest and its secrets. Years went by and Jack’s legend grew, people whispered about the giant of a man who could chop wood for hours without rest. Some said that he had a special connection to the forest, that the trees themselves yielded to his ax. Jack just smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mystery, knowing the truth lay in his hard work and love for the simple, satisfying rhythm of chopping wood. This story was peer reviewed by: Stella Charney
refugee
Interview with Rukia
Thank you for sharing this powerful story with us. Could you tell us about what inspired you to write it? I chose the topic of my story because I wanted to highlight the beauty and simplicity of village life through the eyes of a curious and innocent child, who shows courage, determination and creativity. My story about a little girl in the village allowed me to explore themes of resilience, adaptability, culture and community, which are essential for human growth. I drew inspiration for my story from my own experience, upbringing and family. What messages do you hope your readers will take away from your story? I wanted to share a relatable and authentic narrative. I aim to shed light on the challenges and opportunities faced by children in rural areas, sparking empathy and understanding. I hope readers will come away from my story with a deeper appreciation for the joy and struggles of growing up in a rural community and a renewed sense of hope and optimism for a brighter future. What, from your perspective, is the point of storytelling? Why do we tell stories, what do they do for us, and what purpose do they serve? We tell stories because they allow us to share knowledge, tradition and values, fostering understanding and bonds between individuals and communities. Did your story change over the course of your participation in the storytelling workshops? How? In the course of peer review and writing I enjoyed facing challenges and meeting people who were willing to support my writing and believe in my potential. My story evolved through the process of explaining how Amina changed over the course of the narrative and by exploring the complex relationship between Amina and Mr Peter. How does your story offer an alternative path, point of view, or way forward? How does it speak to the possibility of an otherwise? My story challenges traditional notions of success. Amina’s journey focuses on personal growth and centers the narrative on a young girl protagonist. Amina’s experience and perspective fosters empathy and imagines a world where traditional practices, crafts and agricultural methods thrive.
Life with my Best Friend, by Feza Fadhili Carlas
One evening, my family and I were having a family meeting and discussing my studies. We discussed the idea of registering me for a new school and I was happy to hear that. I hated my current school. My best friend Ganitha, a fellow student at my current school, disappointed me very much. I trusted her to the extent of sharing my deepest secrets with her. Then she began giving those secrets away and spreading lies about me. She made the whole class, and even my teachers, take me as a bad girl. Let me tell you what happened. It was a Monday afternoon a few months before our family meeting, when everyone went home from school. I went home to bathe, then I went to bed and slept. That same evening, Ganitha told her mother she wanted to come to my house, and her mother gave her permission. Instead of coming to our place though, she went to her boyfriend’s house. She went back home at 7pm and did the same thing for three more days in a row. On the fourth day, Ganitha’s mum came to our house. She found my father in the saloon and asked him where her daughter was. My daddy responded that his daughter was sleeping, and he hadn’t seen her daughter that evening. My father said that maybe her daughter came here when I was sleeping. They woke me up and called me to ask if I had seen my friend. I told Ganitha’s mother that I had not seen her daughter. And then she left, as that was the only question she wanted to ask me. On her way home, Ganitha’s mum found her daughter and asked her where she had been all of that time? Ganitha lied and responded that she came from our place. Her mother said, let us go and ask together. Moments later, we heard a hard knock on the door. I answered and Ganitha’s mum asked me again if Ganitha had been there. I said no, and her mum thanked me and told me not to be her friend again if I want to be a good girl. Then her mum started beating Ganitha. Then the next day at school, I greeted my friend, but she didn’t respond. I asked Ganitha why she wouldn’t speak to me. She told me, do not speak to me again, I am no longer your friend. I asked her why and she said it was because I had betrayed her yesterday. But how, I asked. Ganitha said, “you should have said that I was there.” I told her I couldn’t lie even though she is my friend. I said that I am not perfect, but I can’t lie to someone older than me like my own mother. Ganitha said, “if you can’t lie, then don’t be my friend again.” I told her okay, no matter . After that, Ganitha started spreading lies about me. She said I’m a bad girl. She said that I became pregnant and had an abortion. I had one friend who was loyal to me and came to tell me all about what Ganitha was saying about me. I thanked her for the information. When I saw Ganitha again at school, I approached her. I said we are all girls, why are you spreading lies about me. She didn’t respond. When I reached home, I told my dad that I wanted to change schools. When he asked me why, I responded by saying because of Ganitha and what she is saying about me. He told me to first finish the year, then he would change me to another school. I said “Thank you Daddy.” And he answered, “You are welcome, my only daughter.” When I started my new school, I tried not to be excited about friends and to focus on my studies instead. I was too worried about what happened before happening to me again. But then I was seated next to a girl who surprised me in a good way. She showed me that she had good behavior and she told me that not all friends are bad. She used to come and sit with me when it was break time and started talking to me, telling me stories and asking me many questions, like what do you like, where do you live, and how old are you. So I told her where our house was located, my age, and that I love dressing hair and singing. I found out her name was, Shalotte, and she liked singing and she enjoyed our conversation. One day, on the weekend when I was home sitting in the saloon watching TV, I heard a hard knock on the door. I went to see what it was and I found it was Shalotte. I welcomed her inside the house and we started watching TV together and discussing our studies. When she said she was going home, I told her I would escort her. As we were leaving, I found her head was too dirty. I asked her, why is your head like that while I’m here? I said, let me first dress your hair before you go and she agreed. After she went home, everyone was asking her, who dressed your hair? She responded by saying my best friend, and she can do yours too! Many people said yes to this so she brought me new customers. One day I asked Shalotte, “Where do you go to pray and worship God?” She said no where, and just like that I invited her to our church. She agreed to come the following Sunday. That Sunday, Shalotte did not come by herself, but with all of her elders and youngs. She said she loved our church and came the next Sunday and the one after that. Then she decided she wanted to start singing with us at church. I took her to practice and she started singing with us. Now
