I often think about the spaces in stories where silence lingers, much like the groove that runs through the center of a cowrie shell. This groove, subtle yet distinct, made me consider how certain unspoken elements in a tale—especially the perspectives of silent characters—hold deeper meaning. It’s not just a marking nor a currency as was used in time past; it’s a space that, when examined, invites deeper thought. To read between the lines of a story is much like imagining what lies within the grooves of a cowrie shell. Both hold spaces for meaning, waiting for someone to interpret them.

African folklore is a mix of wisdom, humour, and survival, stitched together by oral tradition and passed down through generations. These stories, frequently spoken over a fire or during long evenings in village squares, are more than just entertainment. They are lessons, warnings, and reflections on a community's ideals. They have a collective memory that is shaped by their cultural identity, societal standards, and historical events. However, for all their depth and richness, these stories, as traditionally narrated, sometimes leave certain characters and topics in the shadows. There are silences in the stories—spaces where voices are muted and perspectives are neglected.

The brevity of these classic stories contributes significantly to this. Oral storytelling is, by nature, designed to be concise. The storyteller's purpose is to convey a clear message or moral in a short period of time, keeping listeners engaged and the lesson easily recalled. As a result, the narrative tends to centre on the major characters—heroes, tricksters, or victims—while other characters are pushed to the background. Silent characters in folklore are not a mistake; they are a realistic necessity for maintaining the story's focus and flow. However, their silence does not detract from their significance. Instead, it challenges us to speculate what stories they might tell if we paid a little more attention.

In every story about the cunning tortoise, the brave hunter, or the sly trickster, there are those who remain on the outskirts—silent witnesses to the actions of the protagonist, generally dismissed as irrelevant or unworthy of a narrative spotlight. These character’s stories remain unspoken, yet they linger in the spaces between words, the pauses between deeds, and the unexplored corners of our minds. What would the tortoise's wife have to say about her husband's never-ending schemes? Would she describe him as a brilliant strategist or an unrepentant rogue whose actions burdened their family? And what about the bird who refused to sing in creation stories? Was it quiet due to fear, defiance, or wisdom that the other creatures failed to grasp?

Take, for instance, the popular story of the tortoise and the birds, one that has been told and retold across generations. In this tale, the tortoise, eager to feast with the birds in the sky, borrows feathers from various birds to craft makeshift wings. His charm and cunning win him their trust, and they all ascend to the heavens together. But true to his nature, the tortoise devises a plan to eat all the food at the feast, claiming it as his right. When the birds discover his treachery, they strip him of his borrowed feathers in unison, leaving him to plummet to the earth. The tale ends with the moral of greed’s consequences, immortalized by the cracks on the tortoise’s shell.

However, the story raises more questions than answers. What about the birds, who trusted the tortoise enough to share their feathers, only to be betrayed? How did their relationship evolve after such a tragedy? What emotions did they experience as they watched him fall from the sky—satisfaction at his punishment or lingering sadness for the loss of harmony that could never be restored? These intricacies are left unexamined, not because they are unimportant, but because the storyteller’s goal was to keep the tale concise and compelling. While practical, this brevity allows us to imagine the perspectives of the silent characters.

This dynamic extends beyond animal characters to humans, particularly women, who are often marginalized in African folklore. Consider the tale of Moremi Ajasoro, the queen who sacrificed her son to save her people. While Moremi's bravery is celebrated, what about Oluorogbo, her son? He is offered up as a sacrifice after his mother returns from captivity, having deceived and seduced the enemy. His feelings, however, go unspoken. Was he willing to die for his people, or did he feel betrayed by the woman who had given him life? The story does not explore his inner struggle, leaving us to ponder about the emotional cost of such a sacrifice and the complex relationship between a mother and her son in a moment of extreme duty.

Modern African writers are increasingly shedding light on traditionally neglected characters, bringing them to life. Consider Nnedi Okorafor's Akata Witch series, as an instance. In African folklore, marginalized or silent characters, such as the children of powerful sorcerers or outcasts, are rarely given the opportunity to speak up. Okorafor, on the other hand, gives them a voice and centres her story on them. Sunny, the protagonist who is of Nigerian descent but grew up in America, is sometimes ridiculed by people because of her heritage and physical appearance. Throughout her journey, Okorafor explores her struggles and accomplishments, allowing us to understand her as a fully realized character with relatable hopes, fears, and wants. Okorafor does not simply repeat old myths; She reimagines them, giving the characters who were previously silenced, dimension and agency that traditional folklore denied them.

Similarly, Chigozie Obioma's The Fishermen is inspired by the rich history of African folklore, weaving a strong story around themes of prophecy, fate, and family. The novel narrates the story of four brothers whose lives are altered by a prophecy provided by a madman, sending them down a path defined by belief and the question of destiny. While the ancient concept of fate is essential to African folklore, Obioma explores how it affects real, modern lives. The story pushes us to consider if fate is absolutely unavoidable, or whether belief has the ability to influence our reality. By combining folklore with current issues, Obioma demonstrates that these ancient tales are not relics of the past, but are living, evolving stories that Continue to reflect the difficulties of today's world, particularly family struggles and the search for identity.

Reimagining folklore is not a rejection of tradition, but rather an embrace of its richness and usefulness. Contemporary storytellers honour the richness of African tradition while stretching its bounds by bringing silent characters to life and exploring unspoken themes. They ask us to consider Moremi's son's emotions, not as a passive observer, but as a complex individual grappling with the sacrifice his mother made upon her return from captivity. They encourage us to see the birds in the tortoise story as more than just victims, but as a collective force with agency and feelings.

Ultimately, these explorations matter because storytelling is more than a cultural pastime—it is a way of shaping identity, preserving history, and imagining the future. The unspoken stories in African folklore resonate deeply with contemporary issues, reminding us of the importance of listening to marginalized voices and questioning dominant narratives. They teach us that every story has multiple sides, and that the truth often lies in the spaces between.

To read between the lines of the cowrie shell is to embrace the fullness of our heritage, to honor the voices of the past, and to reimagine the future with the wisdom of the stories that have shaped us. African folklore, in all its depth and complexity, reminds us that the greatest stories are the ones that leave room for imagination, reflection, and discovery.