Once Upon A Time 1: English Translation of Ancient Shona Folktales, Is a Translation of my first edition of Shona folktales written in my vernacular and published. This is for the benefit of those who are enthusiasts of this Southern African Language, those who desire to learn other foreign languages and those who love animal stories. I am a great fan of Ice Age, Shrek, Kangaroo Jack, Simba in the Lion King, Pink Panther to name but a few. I love these stories because they are funny, easy and simple but full of life lessons brought out by these animated animals. These are the folktales that I grew up listening to whenever my mother had time to sit down and tell us stories. I was born in the rural area and moved to the city when I was about six. I remember the life I left behind when we were forced to moved by the Chimurenga War that was rampant and had reached our village. I remember so well the day we left, when the huts and many villages were on fire. We went on the bus and never returned home for many years. All my memories of stories were fading away bit by bit as we settled in Harare the big city. This city was nicknamed, ''The City that never sleeps'', like the ''Big Apple'', I guess, it was busy and fast in the city that we all lost our connections to our heritage that was disseminated through these folklore stories. In the city we had a black and white television set, and a radio. My father loved watching the News every night and my mother loved Ezomgidho, a musical programme that aired every Thursday night. We then fell into the routine of watching cartoons, and listening to music and drifted away from listening to Shona folktales. I can not blame my parents for changing, they had no time to sit down with us, they worked and toiled for us twenty four - seven to have a life in this new expensive city. My father worked as a night guard and slept during the day. On the other hand my mother sold vegetables at a market just behind our house. She had lost her career as a nurse when she met my father after their standard six and had given up her own life for us. After school everyday, I and my brother went to swap with her so she could go home, bath and grab a bite to eat. Around seven pm we would go back home to do our homework and prepare for the next day of school. This became our life day in day out, and my love for stories was extinguished. When I got my own children I do not remember even a day I sat down to tell them stories about their heritage. I never lost the love though for stories, it is important for us to teach our children their culture because their identities are embedded in our histories. Our histories shape our futures. The stories were there to teach, rebuke and redirect life in the old days. The old and wise people told these stories as they had lived longer and embodied more life experiences. Most of the stories are about animals, that makes it easier to relate and interesting to listen to. These stories were also entertaining and educative, and so children learned through the Rabbit's conduct or any other animal. The stories were not mere stories like I said, they had bearings on teaching of culture without imposing but subtly. I think the golden oldies were intelligent, they did not have to force any change on any child, but simply told the story and there were choices to be like any of the animals in the stories. Mostly the children did not want to be associated with the mean, and bad animals. They chose the good animals, and this is how their behaviours were reshaped. My background is a perfect example of many children that are growing up without learning about their identities because they have been removed from their roots. The urban life have played a pivotal role in eroding these old folkstories and replacing them with technology. It is prevalent to keep retelling these stories to preserve them. It also great to write them down to preserve them for future generations.