The Legend of the Tapoe

 

Suriname, a culturally diverse nation, is home to a variety of religious traditions that include elements of ancestor worship. Many communities in Suriname honour their forefathers, believing that the spirits of deceased loved ones continue to influence the lives of the living. The short story is inspired by the book De Tapoe by Rappa. The story of De Tapoe reminds us that those silenced by history still whisper, waiting to be heard and remembered. As a popular Surinamese saying goes, Those who do not know their history can never understand their future. So when we hear these whispers, we must not ignore them for in listening, we honour the past and shape the future.

 

The story

Long ago, in the heart of Suriname, there were whispers of sacred ground places marked by stone, hidden in the earth, where the spirits of the past slumbered. These were the tapoes, sealed by those who knew the dangers of disturbing what lay beneath.

One day, a man named Henry set out to clear his land, unaware of the power buried in its soil. As his hands worked the earth, his tools struck an old stone structure. A small crack formed, barely noticeable, but the air around him grew heavy. A hush fell over the land, as if the trees themselves held their breath.

That night, Henry’s dreams were no longer his own. He saw shadows moving through time, heard voices that had long since faded, and felt the weight of unseen eyes upon him. Each morning, he awoke changed his thoughts no longer his, his steps guided by something older than himself.

The village elders saw the signs. “The spirits have awakened,” they warned. “The past has claimed you.” But Henry, filled with both fear and wonder, sought the truth. Through his journey, he uncovered stories buried beneath silence tales of suffering and survival, of chains and rebellion, of ancestors who had vowed never to be forgotten.

The spirit within him was not seeking vengeance. It was searching for remembrance. The tapoe had not been broken to curse him, but to remind him of where he came from, of the blood that ran through his veins, of the voices that still spoke if only one would listen. And so, Henry learned that some wounds never fade, some spirits never rest, and some stories demand to be told.

From that day forward, he became their keeper, the bridge between past and present, ensuring that the forgotten would remain forgotten no more. And if you ever walk through the old lands of Suriname, and feel the earth whisper beneath your feet, listen closely for the tapoes still stand, and the spirits still remember.