09/08/2025
The Man Who Planted Bridges
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(A folktale on Fatheotold in the firelight by the Griot of Ancient Seas.)
by
Linda Somiari - Stewart
Long ago, in the land where rivers, lakes, seas and even oceans spoke and trees kept deep secrets, there lived a man named Tebarima. He was not a king, nor was he born with gold in his hands. But the people called him Father of the Village, for his strength was in what he gave, not what he owned.
Tebarima had no sons of his own flesh, but every child who scraped their knees on the village stones or wept when the rain fell too hard found shelter in his shadow.
He taught boys how to fish, not just to eat, but to be patient with the river’s silence. He taught girls to climb trees and reminded them that courage has no gender. And when the moon rose and the world was quiet, he told them stories of their ancestors, of the stars, of how to walk without stepping on another’s dream.
One day, a great flood came swallowing paths, tearing down huts, drowning laughter. The river, swollen with sorrow, separated families and friends.
While others panicked, Tebarima moved through the water like a whisper. He did not cry for help. He built bridges - one wooden plank at a time. With rope from his roof, and wood from his walking sticks and firewood he built bridges across the waters so others could find their way home.
When the flood receded, the people gathered. They found their homes battered, but their hearts unbroken. And at the center stood Tebarima, soaked, tired, but smiling.
They crowned him with woven leaves, not as a king, but as something rarer: a Father by Choice.
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Moral:
Not all fathers are born. Some are carved by time, sacrifice, and quiet love. True fathers do raise their voices when situations demand but more importantly,they raise bridges wherever they find themselves .
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Reflection for Today:
Who built bridges for you when your world was flooded?
And whose bridge are you building now?