Contest Entry - Anonsi

Memories of Anonsi

     Anonsi.  Anonsi.  Just hearing that name makes ones tongue swell with the desire to sing of her greatness to the heavens!  Ah, the stories I could tell . . .  The pure and humble Anonsi would of course try to downplay them as fanciful embellishments.  But they are the truth!  Perhaps you wonder why you have never heard Anonsi tell these stories?  It is just the way she is.

     If you had managed to save an entire Inuit village from destruction by an evil horde of ice-minotaurs using just a spoon and a packet of floss, you would have eagerly told everyone you met of your braverism.  But not sweet sweet Anonsi.  The village wanted to repay her for her phenomenal act of kindness.  They offered her the finest furs, priceless gems and a grand iglonsion (that's an igloo mansion for you Inuit noobs).  Never again would she have to raise so much as a pinky to work.  The Inuits were willing to take care of all of her needs and desires.  But she turned it all down.  Anonsi left with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few mackerelpops for her journey.

     Let me indulge myself and tell you of when I first met the angelic Anonsi.  I was spending some vacation time down South.  I decided to charter a small boat and a crew so I could experience first hand the amazing expanses of marshes, waterways, canals and the intriguing wildlife.  The boat slowed as we rounded a bend in the river and we noticed some boats and a collection of people in waders and matching shirts.  Suddenly there was movement in the river.  She broke through the surface, the water splashed away, glinting in the sun, and rolled off her as if it felt unworthy of touching such a goddess. Then in one fluid movement, she pulled two fully grown manatees from the water and tenderly laid one across each shoulder.  She gave me a small smile then turned and made her way to the group, easily carrying her burden and strolling like one would through a park on a warm Spring day.  We coasted to the group of boats curious as to what was happening.  Upon questioning they told us this story.

     

"We've worked tirelessly for years and years to keep the manatees safe.  So many are injured or killed by the propellers of the boats that speed through their habitats.  We've posted signs, passed laws and raised awareness in the community, but there are still too many losses!  We even tried to form an alliance with the Swampland, Parks and Marshes Organization (a.k.a. SPaMO), until we found out they were trying to convince the fashion industry that the skin of Texans was an excellent replacement for alligator skin.  We didn't know what else to do.  We were lost.  That's when . . . she came . . ."

     They all turned and looked at that mysterious woman.  They gazed at her with adoration and wonder.  I ventured to ask, “What is her name?”

     “Anonsi . . . Anonsi . . . Anonsi . . .”  It whispered through the crowd like a prayer on the wind.  “Anonsi . . . Anonsi . . .”  Such reverence they took when speaking her name.  Almost like they were afraid if they spoke it too loudly, the object of their awe might disappear in the morning sunlight.

     The one they called Anonsi, looked up from where she had settled her load of two manatees, glided over to the group and set her eyes on me.  “Well?”  She announced, offering me her hand.  “Shall we get started?”  She laughed.  The sound was rich and warming.  Others in the crowd chimed in with laughs of their own.

     I looked around, trying to find an answer in the crowd, but none of them had taken their gaze from this strange and wonderful woman.

     “Started on what?”

     “On giving the manatees their sword-play lessons.”  She said it cheerfully, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

     “Sword-play?  Lessons?  To manatees?”  I was confused, but I was also curious and it showed.  She grabbed my hand and pulled me from the boat.  I had no waders on, but as I landed in hip-deep water, I didn't care.  I had to know, to see.  She was magnetic . . .

     We waded out to where Anonsi's manatees were waiting. They were swimming slowly around a long wooden box, occasionally bumping it with their noses as if attempting to sniff out the contents.  Anonsi reached into the box and pulled out, from my assumption, a sword.  The blade was wide like a broadsword, but shorter in length.  Instead of the usual man-sized hilt, it had a much larger surface for it's wielder to hold onto.

     “I designed them myself.” She explained.  “It can't be too long or else it could interfere with swimming and the grip has to be bigger since they have large flippers.”  I was amazed as she offered the “sword” to one of the manatees and he wrapped his flipper around the hilt.  She pulled a few more swords and handed one to me, one to the other manatee and kept one for herself.  “Now, we teach them!”

     She was an expert.  Not even in the movies with all their expensive choreography had I ever seen such magnificent sword-play.  The manatees picked it up quickly.  She taught them how to parry, thrust and use all kinds of offensive and defensive maneuvers.  All the while explaining to me her reasoning.

     “You see, we can only do so much for the manatees.  We can't be here every minute of every day so we have to teach them to defend themselves.  What's the number one reason manatees are hurt in the wild?  Boat propellers.  What are boat propellers?  Spinning metal blades.  It's a little known fact that manatees are skilled with metal objects, kind of like seals and balls.  So we fight blades with blades!!”  She exclaimed the last line loudly and made a grand flourish with her manatee-sword.

     The lessons ran for hours with more and more manatees joining by the minute.  In the end it was a mighty regiment of brave sea cows, ready at last to defend themselves against any threat of boat, jet ski or other propeller equipped nautical vessel.

     I was exhausted as I sat on the edge of the boat, letting my legs dangle into the cooling water.  I heard an engine start and looked up as Anonsi slowly drifted by, piloting a fan boat.  My forehead creased as I questioned, “Where are you going?”

     “Wherever I am needed.” She responded simply.

     “But we've only just met!  I wanted to know more!”  Tears began to run from my eyes.  How could I explain what I had witnessed here.  How could I ever let people know the greatness of Anonsi?

     She smiled kindly then she was gone, cruising away into the light of the setting sun.

     “Wait!!”  I jumped to my feet and called out to her.  “Will I ever see you again?!  How can I find you?!”

     The sun snuggled deeper into the earth as I stood on the deck of the boat.  She was gone.  A warm breeze wafted through the marsh.  Her laugh danced across the breeze and carried with it a message.

     “You can find me in Seven Lances.  Look for one called GanGan, she can lead you there . . .”