A Christmas miracle

Culture Matters

WELL PAPA! Christmas coming and the animals getting ready.

Hummingbird, Ocelot, Keskidee, Dog, Blue Jay and the others in the parang band practising all the Serenal, Anunciacion and Nacimiento. Cocrico flying over from Tobago and Black Hawk eagle showing off because his cousin Harpy Eagle coming from Venezuela. Black Hawk say Harpy could real play the mandolin. Dog, Hummingbird and the others push out their mouth as if to say, “We go see.”

In the middle of the festivities, Mrs Anansi sat at home, miserable. No curtains making, no black cake baking. All the little spider children running around making a mess, but she did not even notice. She was not even quarrelling with Anansi as usual.

“Why you don’t go and look for your son eh?” Anansi’s oldest son had gone into the forest days ago. Anansi assured his wife that their son was alright, but he would go and look for him. Still, Mrs Anansi was worried. She tried to sew curtains while the children created havoc.

Mama Chicken was kneading bread. She too was troubled about young Anansi. Suddenly she gave a shriek that could be heard throughout the forest. Mama Chicken had asked Ocelot to light some bamboo in the dirt oven to heat it up. But the fire started to come out the sides of the oven. The dirt oven had cracks. Old Man Turtle knew how to fix it, but these days he was staying to himself by the river.

Dog started to mutter. “The pace Old Man Turtle does move, by the time he reach up here Christmas Day done.” The worried animals gathered to discuss what to do.

Meanwhile, young Anansi was lost. In the pitch black of the deepest bush, he felt foolish. He was lost and would never see his annoying brothers and sisters again. Cold and tired, he curled into a space in the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes. He was going to die and spoil Christmas for his mother and family. Tears flowed as young Anansi sunk into shame and regret.

A powerful presence made him open his eyes. There, staring at him from an ancient face was Papa Bois, the half-man, half-animal protector of the forest with long locks and leaves growing out of his head. Papa Bois motioned for young Anansi to follow him. The fierce warrior was going to lead the young spider home.

When Mrs Anansi heard all the noise outside from the other children, she knew. Her eldest son was alive. Her prayers had been answered. She and Anansi hugged their son and the children crowded around. They told him Christmas in the forest was in trouble because the dirt oven was not working and Old Man Turtle was not feeling well.

“But mammy, I know how to fix the oven,” said young Anansi. “Yes, Old Man Turtle teach me.”

Mrs Anansi and all the children hustled over by Mama Chicken to tell her young Anansi was safe. All the animals welcomed him back, in awe that he had been in the presence of the mystical Papa Bois. Young Anansi showed everyone how to dance the special grass together with mud to create a plaster to cover the holes in the old oven. Cocrico arrived same time. He asked them why they did not call him before, because his grandfather was a boss dirt oven maker and if they forget how it have plenty dirt oven in Tobago – story, story, story.

By Christmas Eve, the whole forest was smelling of Mama Chicken’s breads and the desserts that the community put in the oven. Naturally, young Anansi was supervising everything. The band was already on stage with all the sweet music from Daisy Voisin to calypsonian Scrunter. In the middle of everything, cousin Harpy rush in hot and sweaty. Imagine he got lost flying in from Venezuela. Luckily his nose picked up the smells from the dirt oven and he found his way.

Harpy grabbed his mandolin and walked on the stage with the band. Everything stopped. Harpy cleared his throat and pulled at the strings. Dog start to steups under his breath. Then cousin Harpy made that mandolin sing. The maracas, box bass, pan and all the other instruments blended in for a fast-paced joropo. The animals got over their shock and danced up a frenzy.

Mrs Anansi and Mama Chicken put up their feet, enjoying the music. They sipped their ponche de crème, smiling at young Anansi, taking charge of the dirt oven. He was home. It was truly a Christmas miracle.

Dara E Healy is a performance artist, communications specialist and founder of the NGO, the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN