Welcome, friend! Today I bring you a collaborative post with screenwriter, director and author Kobyna T. We are chatting about his Historical fantasy/Folklore novel, The Tricksters.

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Get to know the author: Kobyna T

Welcome Kobyna! Tell me and my readers a bit about yourself!

I go by the name Kobyna, a typical Akan name for a male born on a Tuesday. From the tongue of the ancestors, those born on Tuesdays are professional liars…

Well, while I don’t necessarily recognize myself in this tall tale, I made it my life mission to get better at it, lying that is. I mean, isn’t that what storytellers basically do? 

Okay, maybe we aren’t liars by definition, but we do love to mix up realities, don’t we? All for the sake of telling a good story, and most of the time, it is totally worth it to risk heaven-points for a good story—Oops, forgive me, I tend to get off-topic when I start telling about myself, it’s not like I love myself that much… 

No, I am more interested to hear other stories. Stories that haven’t been told before, or that have not been told enough. That’s why I started writing three years ago. I went on a journey of self-knowledge, and I found myself in Ghana, my homeland. I was in Cape Coast at the Cape Coast Castle, listening to the stories the guide was telling a small group of tourists. These were stories I felt guilty about not knowing, especially for someone having roots in Ghana. 

So I went into nerd-mode and did my research. And on top of that, more research. The picture was getting more clearly. A cinematic universe formed in my mind. I signed with Marvel Studios(—I wished, HA!) 

Anyways, all that plotting and daydreaming led to a concept, and before I could travel around and spread my ideas, a certain flu decided to spread itself all over the world…

I retreated into my room and started writing really bad drafts. Really bad drafts turned into lesser bad drafts, and eventually, it all led up to this moment, where I’m sitting somewhere on a bench in the park of a pandemic-free world (I’m in Amsterdam right now, beautiful city by the way).

I go by the name Kobyna, and I hope that whoever picks up my first book of lies, enjoys reading it! 

What inspired you to write this book?

Two things: The Cape Coast Castle, a former slave dungeon and trade post in Cape Coast (Ghana), built by the Portuguese in 1555 and last owned by the Britons. The walls were talking to me, whispering all the stories of the past to me. So, my people’s history is one of the inspirations.

Another inspiration is a book. Children of Blood and Bone, written by Tomi Adeyemi. A crazy thing to say as a writer, but I am a really lazy reader. But this book is the first one I ever read as if I was binge-watching it on Netflix. The book is about to be adapted to cinema and I’m probably going to see it at least five times in the theaters. It’s a fantasy set in a place called Orïsha (based on Nigeria), where the protagonist has to find a way to bring magic back to defeat an oppressive government. I really like stories about rebellious people, I don’t know why…  

How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?

It took me roughly three years. I deliberately took my time on this one. It’s the first book I have ever written. I have never written anything past 5000 words before I started on the book. It started as a short story and before I knew it, it became a whole book. 

Yeah, I took my time on this one, because I used it as my therapy (finding a good therapist can be expensive and exhausting!). I had to dig deep at times. Certain memories I buried as a kid, resurfaced. These writing sessions were hazardous, to be honest. Demons I thought I had conquered came back for a rematch. I boxed my way through dark moments, writing blocks, and laziness. 

But I won! I found the gold within the jungle.  

What makes your story unique?

I think by adding references to actual historical events, you have a good balance of education and entertainment. Edutainment?

What’s more important to me, is that I had the chance to mix Ghanaian folklore with history. By adding a pinch of fantasy, I think a story, that never has been told, was crafted in the process. Or at least, a story that has not reached the mainstream in this format, yet…

What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?

I always leave my stories open for different interpretations. Every set of eyes and ears sees and hears differently. Every brain processes in its own way. The takeaway message is a combination of all interpretations by all the readers. 

But if I, in another universe where I’m a popular actor reading the script of the movie adaptation of this book, had to give my opinion about it, I would say something corny like this: „though there is a lot of conflict between people, there are certain things that we all nod our heads to. Good music, good food, and a well-told story.“  

Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?

Oh yes, indeed! Chapter Fifty: Interlude – the Donkey and the Whale. 

Though this book highlights pretty dark topics like slavery, tribal conflict, genocide, etc., there is also gold in the jungle. There are scenes and interludes interwoven through the story flow, to lighten things up. This chapter is one of ‘em!  

What is something you have learned on your debut author journey so far?

Writing is actually editing. Allow yourself to write garbage. Write the ugliest sentences and awkward wordings. Tell and don’t show (I call that snitching). Cringe until your toes curl up from reading your first drafts. Hate yourself a little for trying to become a writer. It’s okay to do that, as long as you come back to your story to rewrite and clean things up. I’ve become addicted to that oddly satisfying feeling when I’m reading a rewritten piece of story. I have a lot to learn about constructing readable sentences because English is not my native tongue/pen, but editing (and reading) have helped me along the way.  

If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!

I’ve shouted the most notable people/beings out in my book. But a special shout-out goes to the younger version of me, allowing me to re-open some battle scars so he could pour his heart out to me one more time. 

I know it sounds a bit schizophrenic, but this allowed me to write something people could relate to and inspire them to find their gold in their jungle too. So, shout out to them too, everybody wandering through the hazards of life. Find your balance. It’s only up from there, I promise!  

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Book Excerpt from
The Tricksters

Chapter Five: Interlude – When scavengers feast on falcons

THE REALM OF TRIBESMEN, also called Akan, is a thick jungle full of adventure and many untold stories. Not the sweet fairy tales your mommy told you before you went to bed. No.

These are stories of noblemen defending what’s most important, according to them. Be it rights over land or border disputes, trade monopolies, or control over resources, the Tribesmen mostly disagree about everything. But in their shared lust for power, there are some rhythms they bop their heads to, all together. 

They are always ready to answer the call to march when it is time to pick up arms and lay waste to some peaceful village. They treat it like a festival almost, you’ll hear it when the drums bang your brains out your ears. You’ll hear it in their sayings. “May the stronghearted be victorious, the weakhearted get no mercy”, or “death before dishonor!”. The one I like the most is “Yj bj di nkwaseasjm”, which means “we’re about to go stupid…”.  

Oh yes, the Tribesmen are built differently, but you know what? Let me stop yapping and get to the story. I tend to lose myself when telling stories, so bear with me.

Let’s start with the chief of Anenekrom, Abu Taye. Anenekrom is a tributary state under the Asante, which is the biggest and one of the most powerful states within the Realm. Anenekrom had just become a tributary state under the Asante after losing a war a couple of years ago.

Anenekrom entered their ‘rebellious phase’, as the Asante like to call it. So, as an estranged father, the Asante Paramount Chief sent royal messengers to sit his kids down and have a long talk. The only thing is…stubborn teenagers are never in the mood to talk to their condescending elders…

“So, you mean to tell me that your lousy chief had no time to come over himself to discuss this matter?” 

“Nana…the Paramount Chief has a—”

“Stop calling him that in my presence. He is your ruler, not mine…”

“I hear you, my Lord, it was not my intention to dishonor you in your house, forgive me.” The messenger nearly bows down to Abu Taye, who glares at both of them. 

“What I was trying to say was that the Para— I mean, the Asantehene had a last-minute meeting with a delegation of Dutch merchants, so he could not make it. That’s why we were sent instead.”

Abu Taye picks up his cup of wine and takes several swigs, a red trail escapes the corner of his mouth. He wipes it away.

“The Dutch? So, he is already preparing for war…”

“Nana, please, it is not like that.”

“Stop riding me like that, it’s exactly how I am saying it is. But let’s pretend that we are all stupid. Let’s get to business then…what does Bonsu want?” 

He puts the cup down and interweaves his gold-decorated fingers in front of him. The ornaments on him gleam red through his Stool Room, a room specially decorated for occasions like this. Akofena swords are crossed up behind him, his favorite set of blades. According to him, he has slain a million men with them. That’s what I call a tall tale…

The polka dots on his sofa match the furry cloak on his back. Every display case has a piece of history inside it. The sandals of his great-grands, the bracelets conquered in some battle. Umbrella’s to shade himself from his enemies, handed down from ancient times. The skulls and jaws from prominent generals he defeated, supposedly. You could believe it if you’d want, I mean…these beefy figures he has at his command, standing tall in the room, can probably break boulders with their bare hands. Two at the front gate, with a wooden beam beside them. Two behind him and two others at the curtains, which were white back in the day. They got replaced with crimson-red ones. I wonder why…

“Nana, we came here with no ill intentions. A couple of days ago, the chief of Akoroman came to us, enraged about some matter.” 

Abu Taye raises an eyebrow and gestures at his guards to close the front gates. The messengers watch how the doors slowly close, the hinges cry for mercy. The only door left open is the one behind Abu Taye.

“That sounds like bad news, what happened?”

“His ancestral grave was pillaged by gravediggers.” The other messenger says. “It seemed that they were looking for—”

His companion nudges him. They stare at each other and nod.

Abu Taye watches them like a vulture hovering above his meal.

“Well…what did they take?” Abu Taye says.

“Nana, with all respect, but that is not the real issue here—”

“And you decide that?” Abu Taye locks his gaze on the messenger and squints his eyes. The messenger clenches his jaws and stares back. 

“My friend, you better talk. What is the issue?” 

The messengers glance at each other and rest their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“The chief claims that the pillagers hail from Anenekrom…”

“Is that so?” 

Two other guards come and stand behind their chief, their faces look more solid than iron. Their blades reflect the candlelights in the dark room.

The messengers look around and realize the walls of the room suddenly closing in on them. A soft breeze makes the red curtains dance. Cawing crows fly past the castle. 

“Give me a name and I will hunt them down. By dawn, I will give you their heads to take back to your beloved Paramount Chief—”

“Not needed. Our only mission was to warn you about these grave pillagers. They might come back to haunt your grave…” The messengers get up and prepare to leave, but…

“WHAT?!” Abu Taye says and shakes his head. “No, hold on, hold on, hold on—so, you guys came all the way from Kumase to give me this nonsense?” 

“These were our orders, my Lord.” 

Abu Taye breaks out into laughter that overtakes everything. He still chuckles as he downs his cup of wine. 

“Your chief has failed to learn our customs then.” He puts the empty cup down and gestures to a guard to fill him up again. While he pours up, the guards at the front gate pick the large beam up and barricade the gates. 

The messengers jerk up, with their hands still on the hilts of their blades.  

“You see, we love to feast when guests arrive. So, why don’t you stay a bit longer, my fellow Tribesmen? What do you drink? What type of women do you like, the skinny, tall ones? Or the ones carrying some load? You like meat?” 

“We feel honored by the invitation, Nana, but we refuse to stay any minute longer. We are begging for your pardon to—” 

“You are not getting it. Sit down.” 

The guards unsheathe their swords and the messengers realize the predicament they have ended in. But like the warriors they are, they fail to show fear. Death before dishonor.

“Osei Bonsu likes to do things this way, doesn’t he? So we can do this like decent Tribesmen.” Abu Taye sits upright, fixing his pitch-black kaftan, and slides into his royal sandals. “Or we can do it my way, like we always have done. Back to the ancient times. Back to the Big Dance.”

More blades pour into the room.

“Tell me the names of the pillagers. Now!”

The messengers share one last moment, trading glances as brothers in arms, and unsheathe their swords without fear. 

“Hand him over! We demand the immediate arrest of Kuami Kokosakyi, by the power of the Seventh Asantehene, the Para—” 

“HA! Over my dead body…” Abu Taye sips and spits his wine at their feet and leaves the room through the exit leading to his quarters. Two guards follow him. “You baboons should’ve sent an army, now you look stupid, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back. And when we come to collect your corpses, we’ll use them as scarecrows for the Royal Garden!” The messenger shouts after him, but the chief keeps walking. He hurls his cup backward, spilling the remainder of the wine on the carpet. As the exit door closes, all the guards laugh and unsheathe their swords.

“The weakhearted get no mercy,” the other messenger says to his companion, just before the first sword swings. 

That evening, the Stool Room in Anenekrom was decorated with more than the red gleam of gold. The new, red polka dots on the sofa matched with the crimson-red curtains. 

The messengers gave the guards a hard time, but at the end of the night…the scavengers celebrated by taking their skulls as trophies. 

Death before dishonor, that’s what falcons sing, before scavengers feast on them. 

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Interested?

Find The Tricksters on Amazon. It’s already on my TBR and I look forward to sharing my thoughts about it.

Thank you for hanging out with us today. Connect with Kobyna T on Instagram, his website and Amazon.

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Cover image: Photo on Unsplash