Week 7 Story: The Wife of Anansi
A deep, rhythmic song of slumber floats up from the sprawl upon the porch. Lanky limbs, a respectable belly, and a face etched with traces of laughter drape across the sun-warmed steps in total relaxation.
"ANANSI!"
"No more you be stealing from your family's food! Your child and mine, he hungers just as we and now this? Our seed store for planting season fills your belly this day? Know you well seed stash is not for bellies but for growing only? And---
Wait now what is this here?!
Well-versed in the art of self-preservation, Anansi's gaze travels anywhere but the hut, and he admires his property in a perfect imitation of a deaf man with corn stuck in his beard. The words he pretends not to hear are resoundingly projected across the yard as he walks away from the noise and the hassle.
Anansi disappears into the brush whistling and in high spirits, wondering if he left any honey in the hive under the silk-tree behind Lizard's hut. The voice of his wife's upset fades as his calloused feet start to shuffle in step with the beat in his head, and he reaches the hive in no time. The honey is still there, and he sings to the bees a song about giving. They welcome his pilfering hands, and soon his beard bears bits of sticky yellow comb to match the maize from breakfast that angered his good wife so.
Wine, the wind whispers to his nose. Neighbor Giraffe refuses to part with his formula for fermenting the perfect palm-juice, but Anansi cares not for this labor and chooses to outsource instead. The scent is lively and dancing in his nostrils, and Anansi makes up a new song on the way to a thorny acacia tree whose leaves are unevenly gathered. How Anansi acquires the wine and neighbor Monkey's pride... is too long to tell right now and must be saved for later.
But what of Oko, her banishment, and sweet firstborn Ntikuma? The anger-speak was not the truth, and this Oko knows well. Anger within festers and corrupts, but anger may be released with whatever words are needed, song or scream or silence. Oko greets the now-awake Ntikuma, nearly three years old now and growing oh so fast. Her voice woke him early but so much the better; they can head to the village sooner now.
"To village we go this day, and how long will he stay away? Good he be gone too, for the now at least. No man ever gave a wife such troubles as that Anansi! But back he will be, soon soon, once he grow hungry again, and what is Okonore Yaa to do now? That silly Anansi put all the planting seed stash in his greedy belly, too full already to be sure."
This is greeted with a gurgling exclamation, as if baby Ntikuma agrees that the belly of his father is too large, and both laugh together as she tickles his fat baby thighs.
"Lucky for you child the weaning just started, milk will be your food again for now. That Anansi leaves my house with no food and no seeds to grow more... we will have a surprise awaiting when next he scurries home, and for today we go to town to beg again of kindly folk. Fret you not for that Anansi, his ears deserved the blow; we must think hard and build a yard to which he will not go. "
Ntikuma sings a piping song of nonsense with lisping words as they walk to the village, and Oko thrills to truly new melody. Anansi's tunes mostly sound much like each other, but this son of hers sings new sounds to the world.
Bibliography
West African Folktales. William H. Barker, Cecilia Sinclair, with drawings by Cecilia Sinclair (1917).
"ANANSI!"
An emerging snore jumps back down his throat, and he saves it for later; shrill soprano can never harmonize with peaceful slumber bass. Yawning, he stretches out all his limbs, relishing the pop of each and every joint as he leans forward into the wakeful world. Gentle, warm wind smells of honey and wine today, and he turns to embrace the scent as his wife begins to carp in earnest.
Wait now what is this here?!
Anansi!!! The last bushel of maize, eaten entire while I walk to the river!? Do not deny it, for hasty eating left you with guilt kernels in your beard for me to see!"
Well-versed in the art of self-preservation, Anansi's gaze travels anywhere but the hut, and he admires his property in a perfect imitation of a deaf man with corn stuck in his beard. The words he pretends not to hear are resoundingly projected across the yard as he walks away from the noise and the hassle.
"HEAR ME NOW, ANANSI!
Your belly is no longer welcome here.
You do not come back this time.
You have no care for honest work and never will.
You are smart but lazy and that makes you stupid.
Sly tricks will never plow fields or plant seeds or pick weeds or feed babies or wash clothes or bring water from the river, and no more will I do these things for you.
You have no wife.
You have no child.
You have no home here on my land my papa gave to me."
Anansi disappears into the brush whistling and in high spirits, wondering if he left any honey in the hive under the silk-tree behind Lizard's hut. The voice of his wife's upset fades as his calloused feet start to shuffle in step with the beat in his head, and he reaches the hive in no time. The honey is still there, and he sings to the bees a song about giving. They welcome his pilfering hands, and soon his beard bears bits of sticky yellow comb to match the maize from breakfast that angered his good wife so.
Wine, the wind whispers to his nose. Neighbor Giraffe refuses to part with his formula for fermenting the perfect palm-juice, but Anansi cares not for this labor and chooses to outsource instead. The scent is lively and dancing in his nostrils, and Anansi makes up a new song on the way to a thorny acacia tree whose leaves are unevenly gathered. How Anansi acquires the wine and neighbor Monkey's pride... is too long to tell right now and must be saved for later.
But what of Oko, her banishment, and sweet firstborn Ntikuma? The anger-speak was not the truth, and this Oko knows well. Anger within festers and corrupts, but anger may be released with whatever words are needed, song or scream or silence. Oko greets the now-awake Ntikuma, nearly three years old now and growing oh so fast. Her voice woke him early but so much the better; they can head to the village sooner now.
"To village we go this day, and how long will he stay away? Good he be gone too, for the now at least. No man ever gave a wife such troubles as that Anansi! But back he will be, soon soon, once he grow hungry again, and what is Okonore Yaa to do now? That silly Anansi put all the planting seed stash in his greedy belly, too full already to be sure."
This is greeted with a gurgling exclamation, as if baby Ntikuma agrees that the belly of his father is too large, and both laugh together as she tickles his fat baby thighs.
"Lucky for you child the weaning just started, milk will be your food again for now. That Anansi leaves my house with no food and no seeds to grow more... we will have a surprise awaiting when next he scurries home, and for today we go to town to beg again of kindly folk. Fret you not for that Anansi, his ears deserved the blow; we must think hard and build a yard to which he will not go. "
Ntikuma sings a piping song of nonsense with lisping words as they walk to the village, and Oko thrills to truly new melody. Anansi's tunes mostly sound much like each other, but this son of hers sings new sounds to the world.
Author's note
I love Anansi, ever since I met him in the works of Neil Gaimen. Encountering him within the West African Folktales unit was exactly like running into an old and dear acquaintance and learning everything they've been up to. So, during my reading, I realized Anansi is selfish, short-sighted, and frightfully careless to his family. This is more or less equivalent with the Neil Gaimen treatment, but I wondered what would happen if Anansi's wife (Okonore Yaa, according to the Ashanti, and mother to several of his children) got angry with his carelessness.
However... when I tried to write a story of actual revenge, nothing happened. I literally could not find a way to reconcile his own wife getting even for every time he used them or forgot they existed. That's a flaw on my part, as I just like the character way too much. It's also due to the undeniable charisma I recall from Gaiman's Anansi.
Instead, I pictured Oko calling Anansi out for his failures and actually venting some of her anger out, and disowning him, and everything I wanted for his good and patient wife. The problem with that? Their children together. So, as a ruthless manipulator of language and people, the idea that words are always straight-forward didn't fit right with Anansi or a wife who knows him well. The answer? A situation permitting any and all thoughts or feelings or threats to be voiced vehemently, which I unimaginatively termed the anger-speak.
Dialect note: West Caribbean and Ashanti are both unfamiliar to me, but I tried to use a more... musical (or Yoda) phrasing and cadence, especially when Oko is speaking to her young son.
West African Folktales. William H. Barker, Cecilia Sinclair, with drawings by Cecilia Sinclair (1917).
Image Source: Pinterest
Hey Shivani! I loved this story so much! The way that you write is so easy to follow and I couldn't stop reading. You were able to take a very traditional story and convert it into a modern dialect that is easily understandable. I love the image that you added as well and I felt that it tied everything in rather nicely. Keep up the good work this semester, and continue to make this awesome, detailed stories!
ReplyDeleteHello Shivani! This story was incredible in that it smoothly tells its tale to the reader. I found the traditional aspects to appear almost like a song and the plot to follow a tribal manner. I love how you kept the names and appearances in the African language of origin to fully immerse us into the culture.
ReplyDeleteHi Laura! I have to commend you on the length of your story! I don’t think I would be able to write that much or give so much detail in my stories. I have to admit that your story confused me from the very beginning. You changed the format of your writing a lot—switching between normal and italicized text and then with centered text and left aligned text.
ReplyDelete