It is not uncommon for me to find a story from Europe that is almost identical to one from Asia.
It is not often that saying something is boring is a compliment but when I tell you that my upbringing was boring – I mean it in the best possible way. My parents stayed married, we lived in a home they owned and I had food on my plate (even though I was notorious for not eating it). Of course there were ups and downs – I hit adolescence as my Mom hit perimenopause, I had to wear ugly glasses until I was old enough to buy my own contacts and I have three older brothers (enough said there, right?).
But all in all they are not going to make a film or mini-series about the life and trials of Julie Pasqual, and I am certainly not going to stand up on a stage, or a classroom as a professional storyteller, and tell an epic tale about how I always wanted a canopy over my bed and didn’t get one (hence why I was so excited about mosquito netting over my cot while in Haiti – it was the closest I had come).
Luckily for me – and the audiences I unleash my tales on – I have folktales to share and all of them are A LOT more interesting than my own life (and again, I mean that in a really good way, all those people in the movies tend to do a lot of crying).
In a folktale animals talk, people find magical objects and mysteries are not solvable in one hour with commercials like a detective show on television.