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ISSN: 2397-9607 Issue 276In this 276th issue of the Baba Indaba’s Children's Stories series, Baba Indaba narrates the Romanian legend of “VIRFUL CU DOR.”A great hora, that is a great festival and dance, was held in Sinaia, Romania the like of which had never been seen before with people from all around the Bucegi region came to the hora.What a stamping and shouting there were amid the merry dancers! The maidens seemed to hover in the air, as though their dainty feet, peeping out from the narrow petticoat, never touched the ground. Their shifts were gaily and richly embroidered, and glittered with gold, like the coins that hung on their necklets.A little to one side, a handsome shepherd, Jonel, stood leaning upon his staff and watched the hora with his dark eyes. Soon they discovered what they sought, and their sparkling gaze was fixed upon a maiden, Irina, who did not seem to notice him at all. The maiden was fair—fair as the most beautiful flower; nay, lovelier far than the gentian or the Alpine rose, more delicate than the edelweiss. Irina was fair, very fair, and Jonel, the young shepherd, gazed upon her ceaselessly. At last he too drew near the circle and grasped her hand.Towards the end of the dance he tells her he has to take his herds down into the valley for winter and asks her to wait for him. She mocks him and tells him she will only wait if he does what is impossible to do.So, in order to win the love of his life, Jonel takes up the challenge, but will the challenge be too much for Jonel or will he succeed? Will Jonel’s win the hand of Irina forever more or will disaster strike leaving Irina berefit and ashamed of her last words to Jonel? To find out, you are invited to download and read the story for yourself.Baba Indaba is a fictitious Zulu storyteller who narrates children's stories from around the world. Baba Indaba translates as "Father of Stories".Each issue also has a "WHERE IN THE WORLD - LOOK IT UP" section, where young readers are challenged to look up a place on a map somewhere in the world. The place, town or city is relevant to the story. HINT - use Google maps.33% of the profit from the sale of this book will be donated to charities.INCLUDES LINKS TO DOWNLOAD 8 FREE STORIES
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
A Legend of Romania
Baba Indaba Children’s Stories
Published By
Abela Publishing, London
2017
VIRFUL CU DOR
Typographical arrangement of this edition
©Abela Publishing 2017
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Abela Publishing,
London, United Kingdom
2017
Baba Indaba Children’s Stories
ISSN 2397-9607
Issue 276
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Website:
www.AbelaPublishing.com
Baba Indaba, pronounced Baaba Indaaba, lived in Africa a long-long time ago. Indeed, this story was first told by Baba Indaba to the British settlers over 250 years ago in a place on the South East Coast of Africa called Zululand, which is now in a country now called South Africa.
In turn the British settlers wrote these stories down and they were brought back to England on sailing ships. From England they were in turn spread to all corners of the old British Empire, and then to the world.
In olden times the Zulu’s did not have computers, or iPhones, or paper, or even pens and pencils. So, someone was assigned to be the Wenxoxi Indaba (Wensosi Indaaba) – the Storyteller. It was his, or her, job to memorise all the tribe’s history, stories and folklore, which had been passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years. So, from the time he was a young boy, Baba Indaba had been apprenticed to the tribe’s Wenxoxi Indaba to learn the stories. Every day the Wenxoxi Indaba would narrate the stories and Baba Indaba would have to recite the story back to the Wenxoxi Indaba, word for word. In this manner he learned the stories of the Zulu nation.
In time the Wenxoxi Indaba grew old and when he could no longer see or hear, Baba Indaba became the next in a long line of Wenxoxi Indabas. So fond were the children of him that they continued to call him Baba Indaba – the Father of Stories.
When the British arrived in South Africa, he made it his job to also learn their stories. He did this by going to work at the docks at the Point in Port Natal at a place the Zulu people call Ethekwene (Eh-tek-weh-nee). Here he spoke to many sailors and ships captains. Captains of ships that sailed to the far reaches of the British Empire – Canada, Australia, India, Mauritius, the Caribbean and beyond.
He became so well known that ship’s crew would bring him a story every time they visited Port Natal. If they couldn’t, they would arrange to have someone bring it to him. This way his library of stories grew and grew until he was known far and wide as the keeper of stories – a true Wenxoxi Indaba of the world.
Baba Indaba believes the tale he is about to tell in this little book, and all the others he has learned, are the common property of Umntwana (Children) of every nation in the world - and so they are and have been ever since men and women began telling stories, thousands and thousands of years ago.
Location of KwaZulu-Natal (shaded in red)
This next story was told to him by a traveller who had heard this story in the town of Predeal. Can you find Predeal on a map? What country is it in?
A story, a story
Let it come, let it go
A story, a story
From long, long ago!
Umntwana Izwa! Children Listen!
ONCE upon a time, long, long ago and in far, far away Romania, there was once on a time a hora1 at Sinaia, the like of which had never been seen before; for it was upon a great holiday, and the monks in the neighbouring cloister had distributed food to everyone, heaping bowls of it, so that all the villagers had eaten their fill. The folk had gathered from far and near, from Isvor and Poeana Zapului, from Comarnic and Predeal, and from the other side of the mountains. The sun shone down so warm into the valley that the maidens took the kerchiefs from their heads, and the lads pushed their flower-bedecked hats from their brows, so hot had the dancing made them. The mothers stood round about upon the green, suckling their children; their shimmering veils showed afar off, as white and soft as spring blossoms.
What a stamping and shouting there were amid the merry dancers! The maidens seemed to hover in the air, as though their dainty feet, peeping out from the narrow petticoat, never touched the ground. Their shifts were gaily and richly embroidered, and glittered with gold, like the coins that hung on their necklets. The dance moved on, in circles both great and small; ceaselessly it moved, to the ceaseless music of the lute-players, like the pulsation of a vein, or an undulating wave. A little to one side, a handsome shepherd stood leaning upon his staff and watched the hora with his dark eyes, dark as blackberries. His form was slender, like a young pine-tree; his hair fell in black locks upon his shoulders from under his cap of white lambskin. His shirt was grey, fastened about the hips with a broad leather girdle, and he wore sandals upon his feet. Only for a moment had his eyes glanced uncertainly around; now they had discovered what they sought, and their sparkling gaze was fixed upon a maiden, who did not seem to notice him at all. The maiden was fair—fair as the most beautiful flower; nay, lovelier far than the gentian or the Alpine rose, more delicate than the edelweiss. In each of her eyes shone two points of light, one in the black pupil and the other in the brown circle surrounding it. Her teeth flashed white every time the coral lips parted; her hair was as black as the abyss from whose depths a gleam of water shoots up, and the wreath of flowers upon her head did not fade; it was as though she gave it freshness and life. Such a slender body she had, one might have thought a man could break it with a turn of his hand; and yet the people told tales of her wondrous strength. Yes, Irina was fair, very fair, and Jonel, the young shepherd, gazed upon her ceaselessly. At last he too drew near the circle and grasped her hand.