The little star turtle

« The little star turtle »

The Little Star Turtle is a bilingual tale inspired by the strange stories, at the very heart of Nature's mystery, that I heard as a little girl. Almost daily during family gatherings, in a suspended moment, an aunt, an uncle, a cousin, a brother, a neighbor, whispering or panting, lucid or even eccentric, would whisk us away into stories that gave us the keys to another part of the world. Visible or invisible, perhaps more secret and more essential. In their imaginary worlds where seconds had substance, minutes were heavier, and intense magic bestowed upon our childhood lives fantasy, depth, and mystery. It was another time!

The Little Star Turtle is a book I wish I'd had when I arrived in France 30 years ago. Having emerged from the flames of Rwanda in 1994 with my young child, still reeling, our only belongings our once-great homes reduced to ashes, we searched for any source of comfort. Perhaps it would have consoled us, perhaps it would have enveloped us. We would have eagerly sought refuge in it, like a hiker lost and without provisions on a winter's night, camping by a mountain cove, finding it warm and cozy, almost tender, awaiting a new day that would surely dawn where it least expected.

Months and years have passed. They have given way to the passage of time, to new beginnings, to rebuilding, to new lives, and to new paths. Rediscovered memories, recollections carried by life, now flooding into the present, yearn to reach out to a wider audience.

The Little Star Turtle is a tale about resilience, but also about lineage, transmission, and the passing of the torch from one generation to the next, from one land to another. A tale that speaks to both children and adults. To the child within us, to the adult we will be tomorrow, or the adult we have already become.

It is a tale about hope, the ability to believe in one's dreams, a tale whose central theme is the Earth and its tumultuous relationship with the Elements. These elements are carried along the narrative as a metaphor for our human existence. It's also a tale about Here and Elsewhere, of here and elsewhere? Each reader can decide for themselves.

Moreover, at what point does one become from here? At what point does one cease to be from there? At what point does your land cease to be yours? This tale subtly addresses the question of exile and uprooting. Of inner exile? That too.

Béatrice Uwambaje