One of the most rewarding parts of writing the Tidewalker series has been discovering how deeply stories, family history, and culture are connected.
As I continue working on Book Two, I have found myself returning to the stories I heard as a child about Mami Wata. Long before I began writing fiction, I remember listening to my aunt share tales about this mysterious water spirit. Like many stories passed down through generations, there was often an element of fear woven into them. Mami Wata was powerful, beautiful, unpredictable, and not always understood. Some stories portrayed her as a blessing, while others warned that she could bring misfortune.
One story in particular stayed with me for years. My aunt believed that Mami Wata had somehow cursed our family line. Whether she meant this literally or symbolically, I cannot say. What I do know is that many families carry stories like these—stories that attempt to explain hardship, loss, unusual gifts, or events that seem larger than life.
As an adult and as a writer, I have begun to view these stories differently.
Rather than seeing a curse, I find myself asking another question:
What if it was a calling?
That question became one of the inspirations behind the Tidewalker series.
The Real Mami Wata
Mami Wata is one of the most well-known spiritual figures throughout West and Central Africa. Her name is often translated as “Mother Water,” and stories about her can be found across many cultures and countries. She is often depicted as a beautiful woman connected to rivers, oceans, wealth, healing, fertility, and spiritual power.
Like many ancient figures, Mami Wata is complex. She can represent both danger and blessing, temptation and transformation. Depending on the region and storyteller, her role changes. Some people view her as a protector. Others see her as a warning. Many traditions portray her as a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds.
What fascinates me most is that Mami Wata is rarely simple. She exists in the space between certainty and mystery.
From Curse to Prophecy
As I developed the world of the Tidewalkers, I found myself moving away from the idea of a cursed bloodline.
Instead, I began imagining a family chosen for a purpose they did not fully understand.
In the story, N’Poreh’s family line is tied to an ancient prophecy that has been forgotten by most of the world. What many people interpret as misfortune, strangeness, or bad luck is actually the weight of a responsibility carried across generations.
The family is not being punished.
They are being prepared.
This shift changed everything for me.
A curse suggests hopelessness.
A prophecy suggests purpose.
A curse traps people in the past.
A prophecy calls them toward the future.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized this idea reflected something I have seen in real life. Families often inherit stories about what is wrong with them. We inherit narratives about failure, trauma, loss, or limitations. Yet sometimes those same experiences are preparing us to become something greater than we imagined.
A Personal Connection
While researching my own family history, I found myself thinking about my grandmother, M’Balu Sankoh, who was born in the Maforki region of Sierra Leone. I have spent time exploring the history of the area, learning about the Temne people, and tracing fragments of stories passed down through my family.
Like many people researching their ancestry, I have discovered that records often leave gaps. Names are forgotten. Villages change. Stories become fragmented over time.
Yet the stories remain.
Perhaps that is why storytelling matters so much.
Stories preserve what records cannot.
They carry memories, values, fears, hopes, and dreams across generations.
In many ways, the Tidewalker series has become my way of honoring those stories while imagining what might have been hidden between the lines.
Looking Ahead
As I continue writing Book Two, I am excited to explore the deeper connection between N’Poreh, Mami Wata, and the prophecy that binds both worlds together.
The story is becoming less about good versus evil and more about identity, destiny, sacrifice, and unity.
What if the things we fear most about our family history are not curses at all?
What if they are invitations?
What if the stories passed down through generations are not warnings about who we are destined to become—but reminders of who we have always been?
That question continues to guide me as I write.
And perhaps it is the question at the heart of the Tidewalker series itself.
Author’s Note
The Tidewalker series is inspired by West African folklore, family stories, and my ongoing exploration of Sierra Leonean history and culture. While the story is fictional, many of its themes—identity, belonging, ancestry, and healing—are deeply personal. As I continue researching my family’s roots and writing Book Two, I find myself increasingly grateful for the storytellers who came before me and preserved pieces of history that might otherwise have been lost.
Haven Harvest Living 