Ntikuma (EN-tee-KOO-mah)

Ntikuma was born the son of Anansi, the great Akan trickster and keeper of wisdom. From the moment he could listen, he was surrounded by stories—stories that taught, stories that tricked, stories that shaped the world. But unlike his father, who reveled in mischief for mischief’s sake, Ntikuma sought understanding. He did not simply want to hear tales—he wanted to know why they endured, why they traveled, why they existed in so many places, retold in different tongues.   As he grew, Ntikuma’s journeys took him far beyond the Akan lands of his birth. Through trade and travel, he encountered new peoples, new traditions, and, most intriguingly, new tricksters—spirits and figures who bore eerie similarities to his father but by different names. One of the most compelling was Eshu, the Yoruba god of the crossroads, messenger of the divine, and master of fate’s shifting paths.   At first, Ntikuma was hesitant. Could it be that Anansi had spread his web wider than he imagined? Or was Eshu simply another face of the same force? As he spent time among the Yoruba peoples, he realized that these stories did not compete—they completed one another. Tricksters were necessary in every culture, for they kept knowledge from becoming rigid, challenged power, and ensured that wisdom remained dynamic, ever-changing.   And so, he chose to stay.  

A Keeper of Stories Among the Yoruba in Tír na nÓg

When the Yoruba were called to Tír na nÓg, the realm of eternal thought and memory, Ntikuma was among them—not as a leader, not as a warrior, but as a storyteller, a custodian of wisdom. Though Akan by birth, he had become Yoruba in spirit, his life's work devoted to expanding and preserving their beloved tales.   Now, within the Yoruba community of Tír na nÓg, he serves as a bridge between worlds, bringing in not only the stories of his father but those he has gathered from across his travels. He teaches that wisdom is not bound by place or language—it moves like the wind, shifting shape but never losing meaning.  

In the evenings, he sits before a great fire, surrounded by those eager to hear not just the old stories, but new ones that reshape their understanding.

He speaks in riddles and questions, forcing his listeners to think rather than simply absorb. ""What is the difference,"" he once asked, ""between a trick and a lesson? The answer is only in the ears that hear it.""

He is known to wander, even within Tír na nÓg, drifting between other communities, picking up myths and fables, bringing them back to his Yoruba kin and weaving them into the ever-growing tapestry of their lore.

Habits and Mannerisms

He carries a woven satchel that is said to contain unfinished stories, tales waiting to be told at the right time. He never opens it for others, saying, ""A story cannot be stolen—it must be earned.""

His laughter is soft but knowing, as if he is always two steps ahead in a game others don’t even know they are playing.

He enjoys testing the limits of wisdom, often asking trickster riddles that have no simple answers. Some find this frustrating, but the truly wise know that he is not giving answers—he is teaching others how to find them.

He watches the crossroads closely, sometimes pausing there for long moments, murmuring to himself. Some say he still speaks to his father, Anansi, while others believe he listens for whispers from Eshu, waiting for the next twist in fate’s story.

His Role in Tír na nÓg

In a land where knowledge is eternal and memory never fades, Ntikuma ensures that wisdom does not stagnate. He reminds the Yoruba—and all who listen—that stories are alive, constantly evolving. He does not merely repeat the past; he reshapes it, reframes it, and ensures that each lesson finds new meaning in new times.   For what is a story, if not a web? And what is a web, if not always growing?