Once upon a time,
when the world was still new,
freshly created by Mwe Tchikambissi,
there was a king who was deposed for having slain his daughter.
His reign was short-lived.
Listen as the Storyteller unfolds the tale.
Each of our stories and legends bore a child.
The first, named Luango, dwelt in the Land of Kings.
The second, named DjiDji, resided along the Wild Coast.
Yet, the two were strikingly similar.
Hear the Storyteller recount their story.
Loango was wise and obedient, diligently carrying on the traditions.
DjiDji was welcoming and curious, her lagoons bordered by the ocean so as not to disturb the spirits of the ancestors.
Hear the Storyteller continue.
"The tales and legends are thus," says the Storyteller.
"I grant you the power to bestow a gift upon your children to reward them for their reigns. They are kings, and kings they shall remain."
And since it is so, whimsical as the gaze of the worlds, let its path through the history of time be remembered just as whimsically.
"Listen, my daughter Mu Loango," the Storyteller advises, "the memory of our existence lies within your womb. My son, may your journey across the sky reflect your steadiness."
Let no one forget.
Therefore, Mu Loango, empowered by Mwe Tchikambissi, encircled the sun with a sphere of light that no one can gaze upon directly.
Only an initiate can stare at the sun. In his eyes, it is dimmed. Our ancestors allow him this gaze, making him the guardian of the sky.
Hear me, the Storyteller telling you why the sun is unbearable to look upon and why it returns to the same place for the coronation of the King.
When he is there; the Child of Loango,
we can all look upon the sun and see it with bare eyes.
For us, the light floods us