The Clearing In The Forest Children's Storybook

13 Sep

Contents

Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau …………………………………………………2

Bolo and Papa Bois ……………………………………………………………..4

The Magic Tree ………………………………………………………………….6

The Gift ………………………………………………………………………….9

Zandolie, Find Your Hole ………………………………………………………..13

Son-Son’s Magic Drums ………………………………………………………...21

Josette and the Children of the Forest ……………………………………………22

2.
Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau

Once, in the South Caribbean island called Trinidad, there lived an old couple, who, because of their love for the creatures that lived in the forest and water, were called Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau. In the language of the village people, this meant “Father of the Forest '' and “Mother of the Water”. Animals would wander into their backyard to nibble the sweet grass which grew between the vegetables, and to eat ripe fruit as they fell from the trees planted there. The birds would perch on the branches, high and low, to sing their sweetest songs. Like the animals, they knew they were safe from the cruel folk who would like to kill or capture them. When Mama De l’Eau went to the river to wash, she would take crumbs or cooked rice to feed the fish, who greatly enjoyed these tit-bits. Even Compere Morocoy, the river tortoise, could be persuaded to stick his neck shyly out of his shell house, which he carried on his back, to eat from her hand. One day while the old couple were in their garden, a deer, wounded and bleeding, limped in. It was a beautiful creature, tawny-gold in colour with horns of a slightly darker hue. Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau left their work at once to attend to the animal. While Mama De l’Eau cleaned the wound and tried to stop the bleeding, her husband gathered healing herbs to put on it. He also made a soft bed made of straw and dried moss for the deer to lie in. The deer stayed with Papa Bos and Mama De l’Eau for several days, and the couple never tired of attending to the creature. Everyday while Mama De l’Eau cleaned the wound and applied fresh herb medicines to it, Papa Bois would go out for tender shoots, sweet grass and freshly fallen ripe fruit for the deer to eat. One day, the deer was able to stand, strong and firm on its feet. With tears in their eyes, the old couple prepared to bid the animal goodbye, when to their surprise, it spoke to them. “Do not cry,” the deer said. “For many years we creatures of the forest and waters have been helped by your kindness and now we wish to reward you. Climb on my back!”
Papa Bois and mama De l’Eau did as they were told and the deer ran swiftly out of the house, kicking the door shut behind him. The house sank into the earth and the forest around became one with the garden. Then the deer ran swiftly through the forest and into the Deep Woods, with Papa Bois and mama De l’Eau clinging to her husband. At last they came to the clearing in the forest, where all the creatures were gathered waiting for their arrival. The deer stopped to allow the couple to get off his back, then spoke again. “Because of your love and kindness to us, all the creatures agreed that you must be given the gift of eternal life and the role of guardians of the forest and waters of Trinidad. “Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau……this is now yours!” He touched them lightly with one paw, and immediately a tingling feeling went through them. Papa Bois touched his forehead and felt two tiny horns. His faded garments had also disappeared and a beautiful tunic of interwoven leaves now covered him. Mama De l’Eau looked down and saw that she too now wore a cape of river-weed and the bottom half of her body was covered with shimmering scales and ended in a fish-tail. Some of the animals came together to lift Papa Bois and set him on a throne of plaited twigs planted on a grassy mound in the clearing in the forest. Others lifted Mama De l’Eau to sit on a huge stone which grew out of the shallow stream alongside the clearing. Compere Morocoy, the river tortoise, gave her a jewelled mirror. “This”, he said, “will serve to show you any place where one of the creatures of the waters is when in need of your help.” Compere Caray, the crab, also crawled up the stone to give Mama De l’Eau the Magic Comb, which she would use anytime she wanted to be taken to some place other than the stream near the clearing in the forest. Then all the creatures got together and cheered. The birds whistled and chirped. The fish threshed their tails in the waters,

and Crick Crack,

Monkey broke his back,

for a piece of Pommerac.

Bolo and Papa Bois
Bolo was the biggest braggart in the village. When on moonlight nights the men would sit together on the wooden bench outside of the shop, or on the slope alongside the old bridge, Bolo would out-talk everyone else with his boasts. He would say that he was the smartest, handsomest, bravest of all men in the village. He could sing, dance and hunt better than anyone else in the village, Bolo swore. Only one of these things was true, and that was his prowess as a hunter. Bolo would leave with his gun and a big sack and say: “I am going into the forest to hunt, and will bring back three malicious, four lappes, five agoutis and one deer!” Sue enough, Bolo would return with all these things and sometimes even more! One night, the men of the village were sitting on the slope near the bridge talking about hunting. One of the men observed: “Bolo really is a good hunter. He can catch anything in the forest, except Papa Bois!” Bolo, who was about to join them, said angrily, “Who says I can’t catch Ppa Bois? I can catch anything in the forest and that includes Papa Bois!” Uncle Santo, the oldest man in the village, warned him, “Bolo, Papa Bois is a spirit and no one should joke about spirits!” But Bolo, still angry and vain, boasted, “I can catch anything I want, including Papa Bois!” Some days later Bolo took his gun and a big sack and went into the forest for game. Soon he spotted a deer, the biggest and most beautiful he has ever seen in all his years of hunting. Bolo aimed his gun at the deer, but in vain, for it disappeared into the bushes. Bolo followed the sound made by the animal as it made its way through the forest, and although he would see it, each time he raised his gun to aim, it would vanish. Deeper and deeper into the forest Bolo went, as he followed the deer, until finally he found himself in the Deep Woods, where he had never been before. The deer he neither saw nor heard, and Bolo decided to try to get out of the Deep Woods. This, however, was not all easy, for Bolo found he was standing on marshy ground, and each time he tried to walk, his feet would sink into the earth. He was surrounded by trees whose heavy trunks seemed to have faces which mocked him, and thick vines hanging from their branches which swayed towards him as if to punish him with blows. Then came the voices. “Bolo,” they seemed to whisper, “are you the bravest and boldest of hunters?” “Are you the one who would kill anything and anyone in the forest? Even Papa Bois?” “Bolo! Are you….will you….” “Bolo….will you kill….Papa Bois?” Bolo covered his eyes with his hands and screamed, “No, no!” Then he fainted and knew no more. When the people of the village did not see Bolo return the next day, they did not think about it, because hunters often stayed a day or two in the woods. When, however, one week went by, they worried and went to look for him. They did not have to look far. They found him sitting on a tree root, his gun broken into pieces scattered, not far away, and they knew at once what had happened. Bolo, the boaster, was no more, and Papa Bois, the guardian of the forest, had seen to this!

The Magic Tree Next to his cave in the Deep Woods stood the Magic Tree which had been planted by Papa Bois himself. It was tall and strong, with branches that spread protectively,and since it gave the appearance of a guard next to the cave, it was called the Guard-Tree. Although the tree was many years of age, no one in the Deep Wood could remember it bearing a fruit or even a flower, but since the forest was filled with flowers and fruit this never bothered anyone. One year there was little rain, and even the trees in the forest were affected. The leaves were yellowed and dropped and those trees which took on crop, took on much less than usual. Even so, the fruit did not ripen, but shriveled when small and bitter and fell to the ground. That year Papa Bois’ Guard tree had one large blossom which gradually became a huge golden fruit. Papa Bois would pick this fruit in the morning to feed all the creatures from it. As soon a s he plucked it, a small fruit would grow in its place and this matured to be picked the following morning by Papa Bois. Before he fed the Douens, who are the Children of the Forest, the birds, the insects and animals of the forest, Papa Bois would advise them never to touch the fruit of the Guard Tree. Then after they had all promised that they would never attempt to pick the fruit of the Guard Tree, Papa Bois would break off the pieces of the fruit and give a piece to each of them. The black seeds which were clustered inside the fruit he gave to Mama De l’Eau, and with these she fed the creatures of the water. The animals were satisfied with the fruit Papa Bois had given them, and they were all content to accept this and not attempt to disobey his orders. Everyone, that is, but Compere Sloth. He would grumble to himself, because he always felt some other creature had received a larger piece of fruit from Papa Bois than he had. Once, he attempted to complain to Compere Manicou, the Opossum, about this, but Compere Manicou told him that this was impossible since Papa Bois had a measure in his hand which allowed him to share the fruit in equal parts. Compere Manicou also told Compere Sloth that he himself was satisfied with what he received from Papa Bois each day, and that he never felt the need for more. “Learn to control yourself, both your tongue and your appetite.” The Opossum advised Compere Sloth. But Compere Sloth was not inclined to do either, and although he was present every morning when Papa Bois handed out fruit to the creatures of the forest, he continued to grumble over his share afterwards. One night, when everyone in the forest was asleep, and the forest was asleep, and the forest was still, Compere Sloth awoke. As he opened his eyes the moon came from under a cloud and a beam fell directly on the Guard Tree next to Papa Bois’ cave. From within the cave came a deep snore as Compere Sloth strained his ears he discovered the silence outside to be broken only by a sleepy cry as some animal or creature turned in its sleep. In the moonlight’s glow, Compere Sloth saw the magical fruit on the Guard Tree and immediately he began to feel hungry. “It is a long time till morning,” he told himself. “If I pick the fruit now and eat it, there will be another in its place by dawn, and no one will ever know.” So quietly he crept down from the Bois Flot tree on which he had been sleeping and crawled toward the Guard Tree. Slowly and silently he crept towards the tree, until finally he reached under it. Then, just as quietly, he climbed up, and clinging tightly with his claws to the branch, he began to eat from the fruit just as it hung on the tree. At first he nibbled carefully, then as he grew a bit bolder, he started to bite off great pieces, eating greedily and in great haste. Finally he had eaten it all and, his stomach full, Compere Sloth decided to nap once more. He was, however, too sleepy to crawl back to the Bois Flot tree, and as he attempted to crawl down from the branch on which he was perched, Compere Sloth stumbled and fell, and lay fast asleep right under the tree. There he remained until long after dawn the next day, and when he opened his eyes it was to see all the creatures of the forest and Papa Bois standing in a circle around him. His eyes went on the Guard Tree where just a stalk and a small piece of fruit now hung, and Compere Sloth bowed his head, suddenly ashamed of what he had done. “I do not think I shall have to tell you anything.” Papa Bois told Compere Sloth. “Anyone who has fallen to being gluttonous has to live with his conscience, and yours is already reproaching you.” Shamed, Compere Sloth slunk away, and Papa Bois raised his hand to dismiss the other creatures of the forest. “The Guard Tree will no longer bear fruit as no one but me was supposed to pick from the tree,” he said. “Do not be afraid however. I shall go to my secret place and bring you some food.” Further and further away from them all the sloth crept, until he felt he can go no further. Then wearily he climbed a tree and slept, clinging to its branches with his paws. But even in his sleep he was aware of the scorn of his fellow forest dwellers. And never again did Compere Sloth have friends among the other creatures of the Deep Wood, a fact which he regrets until this day.

9.
The Gift
The children in the village were all excited! Their teacher told them that they would be allowed to decorate the Crèche, which was always put up during the Christmas season in the Square opposite the Church. They went home to their parents and told them the good news. Each child was expected to bring a decoration, and it was agreed that this could be any plant or carving of an animal or person. Some of the children were able to go home and find, hidden in old trunks, carvings of birds, cows, sheep and other animals that were supposed to have been around the stable at Bethlehem where the Christ Child was born. Others were given grains of rice or corn by parents, and these they planted in tins or bamboo pots. Some children were able to climb the trees in their backyards and take down the Wild Pines which grew on the branches, or long strips of mistletoe, while one boy brought a tiny banana tree which he himself had been growing in his family’s garden patch. Only one boy did not bring anything. His name is Marcel, and he was an orphan. Marcel lived with his grandmother who was ill. She could barely support herself and the young boy. They managed to survive by the assistance of other people in the village who shared the produce of their gardens with them, but it was difficult for other people to do more for them, since no one in the village was rich. Marcel had never before minded being poor. Few of the village children had toys, except those they had made themselves, such as kites, or those their fathers or older brothers had made for them. Marcel had never been left out of the other children’s games, although sometimes when they went down to play water games, or to the playground for a cricket or football match, he was needed by his ailing grandmother. However this was not often. That is why Marcel felt so left out of all the excitement of decorating the Crèche. It was the first time that his friends had been busy with something in which he could not share. No one but his grandmother seemed to notice how sad Marcel was, and she, being ill, could not help him. “Marcel,” she said, “how long is it before the decorations will be complete for the Crèche?” Marcel told her that almost everything was ready, and the next day, the children would be marching from the school to the Square to start putting the decorations up. “Tell me what has been brought so far,” she said. Marcel tried to remember all the beautiful things the other children had brought to decorate the Crèche. “All sorts of animals - cows, goats, lambs, even a tiny agouti and manicou carved by Jojo’s father, Grandma,” the boy replied. He explained that some of the children had found carvings in their homes, but others had been made by elders with clever hands. “Some of the children have brought plants on pots and pans, I could not take anything.” The grandmother noted that the boy had tried hard to hide his disappointment at not being able to take a gift for the Crèche, and he knew it was getting more and more difficult for him to hide it. She too had been thinking, and remembering her childhood and the wonderful things she knew that could be found in the Deep Woods, she decided to assist him. She said, “Walk alongside the river early tomorrow morning, and when you come to the large Balata tree, you will see a place where the river makes a break and the smaller body of water goes into the woods. Follow this stream and do ot be afraid, because once you go into the Deep Woods with love and goodness in your heart the Spirit of the Forest will protect you. Continue to walk along this stream until you come to a shallow cave with Chaconia growing on either side of it. Do not pick the Chaconia, for it belongs to Papa Bois, but you can pick from the fern you will see growing thick inside the cave. ” Pick the fern carefully so that you do not destroy the roots of those left behind.” The little boy was cheered by his grandmother’s advice and he went to sleep as soon as the sun dropped in the sky, so that he could wake early for the journey into the Deep Woods. The next day, when dawn was just beginning to break, Marcel kissed his grandmother and went off to the river. He walked up the banks, and turned off near the Balata tree to follow the other smalle branch of the river into the Deep Woods. It was a long journey, and the boy was tired when he arrived at the cave. The Chaconia blossoms which grew near the entrance blazed like fire and the contrast made the dimness of the cave seem darker than it actually was.Marcel stood at the entrance, shy of entering. Then he heard a voice say kindly, “Little Boy, you have come to visit me, what do you wish?” “I wish for a gift for the Crèche,” he said. “All the children in the village have brought gifts from their homes or from their gardens but my grandmother has none to give me, we have no garden because she is ill and I am not grown enough to plant one.” “What did your grandmother tell you to gather from Papa Bois’ cave?” the voice continued to question Marcel. “She told me to leave your Chaconia blossoms, but to take from the ferm growing inside the cave.” “Enter my child,” the voice told Marcel, “pick from the fern you need, but heed your grandmother’s advice and pick carefully so others may be able to come after you and get fern also.” Marcel entered the cave, and found that his eyes now grew accustomed to the soft light. At first timidly, then with briskness, he gathered the fern. When he had gathered enough, the boy went outside of the cave and found some strong vines with which he tied them at the base. Then after dipping them in the cool waters of the stream, he set off on his journey home. He arrived shortly before dusk, and took the fern inside to show his grandmother. “Oh Grandma,” he said, “They are beautiful, and I know everyone at school will be glad to have this decoration for our Crèche.” HIs grandmother said, “I know that, for when I was child I too picked this fern to decorate the Crèche of the Infant Jesus, and we called it “Caban Jesi” meaning Bed of Jesus.” “Is that its name?” Marcel asked. “That is what we called it,” his grandmother replied. The next day when the children and the teachers met in the Square to decorate the Crèche, Marcel came with the huge bunch of fern to give to the teacher. “This,” he said, “is my gift. My grandmother said it is called “Caban Jesi” - Bed of Jesus - and it will last long after the Crèche has been taken down. She said that when she was a child, everyone took a piece home after “Le Roi” - The Feast of Kings - and kept it until it was time for the Crèche to be put up again. Awed, the young teacher received the gift of the beautiful bunch of forest fern, and all the children helped to put it together with the other decorations on the Crèche. There it was admired by everyone who visited the Holy Place during the Christmas
season, and when the Feast of Le Roi had come and the Crèche and its decorations were taken down, everyone took home a piece of Caban Jesi fern to keep until the time should come for the Crèche to be put up again.

13.
Zandolie, Find Your Hole When he received the invitation to the birthday party of his cousin, Compare Matt, who lived high up on the mountainside, Compere Zandolie was very excited. He ran hither and thither throughout the Deep Woods telling all the animals, birds and other creatures who lived there about the invitation. Everyone in the Deep Woods was happy to see his pleasure, and they all asked him to give their best wishes to Compere Matt, and to wish him many, many more happy birthdays on their behalf. Compare Zandolie was given a great deal of help by his friends in the forest when selecting a gift for his cousin, and as the time came near for him to leave for the birthday party, he was given advice on which way he should go to get his cousin’s home easily, avoiding the rough parts of the mountain, and those parts which were rocky and exposed to the sun. Compere Zandolie was very grateful to his friends and said to himself more than once, “What a lucky person I am to have such kind friends!” Then, two days before he was due to leave on the long journey to the mountainside, Compere Zandolie was struck by a saddened thought. “Next to my cousins,” he said to himself, “I shall look most drab. Compere Iguana has such a bright green skin, he looks like the tender young leaves when struck by the sunlight. Compere Matt has several pretty stripes on his back. Even those fresh young cousins of mine, the Chameleons, can change their skins to any colour they wish and stay that way for twenty-four hours. But I shall be dull and ordinary with my dark green and grey skin, and small body.” He sat on a stone alongside the stream which ran through the clearing in the forest, reflecting on his appearance. A ray of sunlight came through the bamboo and shone on him and Compere Zandolie looked quite handsome, but he did not think so. He thought of his cousins who were bigger than he, and of the Chameleons who were his size but who could change from one colour to the other when they wished, and he was dissatisfied with himself. Compere Morocoy, the River Turtle, who was swimming up the river, saw him sitting on the stone looking sadly at his form as it was mirrored in the stream and asked, “Compere Zandolie, why are you sad? Are you not about to attend the celebration of a happy occasion?”
“Ah, Compere Morocoy, as I sit here on this stone I remember that my cousins all have a striking appearance than I do. Compere Iguana’s skin is bright green, and he has a crest on his head which comes right down his back.” “Compere Matt,” he continued, “has big, dark stripes on his back, which make him very distinguished, and even my young cousins the Chameleons, can change their skin colour at will, and keep it so for twenty-four hours.” “I shall look dull and ordinary next to them,” Compere Zandolie cried. “Nonsense,” Compere Morocoy spoke briskly. “I have always considered you a handsome fellow. You have a neat, well-shaped head, and your body is very graceful indeed.” “You also have a nice dark-green skin, and the way it shades to dark grey in some places is very becoming.” But Compere Zandolie refused to be convinced that his appearance was not in need of improvement. As each one of the animals and the other creatures of the Deep Woods came to the clearing for their evening chat, he asked their advice. Finally, Mam’zelle Polly, the Parrot, asked him, “What do you want to make you happy?” Some of my feathers?’ Compere Zandolie looked up to the branch where Mam’zelle Polly was perched and his expression brightened. “Would you lend me some of them?” he asked eagerly. “Would you really like to have some?” the parrot asked, astonished. She thought that the sight of a lizard covered with feathers would be odd indeed, but the reptile was serious. “Oh yes,” Compere Zandolie assured her. “If I could be dressed in some of your bright feathers, then no one at Compere Matt’s birthday party would look as fine as I.” So Mam’zelle Polly went back to her nest on a wild Pois Doux tree, and brought back feathers of many colours. “But how will you get these feathers to stay on your smooth skin?” the parrot asked Compere Zandolie. He said, “I shall ask Compere Tac Tac, the Woodpecker, to fetch me some laglee from the wild Chataigne tree. When I have coated my skin with this glue, I shall stick the feathers on. Compere Zandolie wrapped the feathers carefully in a tannia leaf, and set off the tree where he had been told Compere Tac Tac was working. He was not at all difficult to find, as Compere Tac Tac made quite a loud noise as he pecked at the tree trunk. “Good Day, Compere Tac Tac,” the lizard cried out loudly to Compere Tac Tac. He really had to shout to make himself be heard above the peking of the wood. Finally the bird heard him and stopped. “Can I help you?” he shouted. All the year of pecking had made him slightly deaf, and the lizard, knowing this, continued to shout. “My cousin, Compere Matt, has invited me to his birthday party,” the lizard informed the Woodpecker, “and since I wanted to look fine I borrowed some feathers from Mam’Zelle Polly, the Parrot, to wear.” “You, with feathers on?,” the bird asked, astonished. “Yes,” said Compere Zandolie happily. “And I shall look so handsome! Much more than any of my cousins, even the fresh young Chameleons who put on airs because they can change their skins to any shade they wish and stay that way for twenty-four hours.” “What do you want me to do for you?” the Woodpecker asked. “Do you wish for some of my feathers as well?” “Oh no,” Compere Zandolie replied. “I already have enough bright feathers and in different colours, but I need some laglee from the wild Chataigne tree to stick them on. Can you help me?” The Woodpecker agreed to do so, and suggested that the lizard come early the next morning to meet him. “Bring a Calabash to catch the sap from the tree as it falls when I peck the bark.” Compere Tac Tac advised the lizard as they exchanged goodbyes. The next day, as dawn broke, Compere Zandolie was at Tac Tac’s home, the Immortelle tree. Together they set off for the wild Chataigne tree, Compere Zandolie carefully carrying the Calabash bowl on his back. At last they reached the wild Chataigne tree, and Compere Tac Tac skillfully attacked the bark of the tree trunk with his bark. “Tac tac! tac tac tac! tac tac!” his beak sounded against the wood. Soon he pecked a hole deep enough for the sap of the tree to ooze through, and Compere Zandolie, seeing it, quickly put the calabash to catch the thick, milky liquid. When he had gathered half the bowl with laglee, Compere Zandolie shouted his thanks to the woodpecker. Compere Tac Tac wiped his beak clean on a Stinging Nettle leaf, and the two forest creatures bade each other goodbye. Carefully balancing the bowl with the laglee 16on his back, Compere Zandolie made his way back to the place where he had hidden the feathers. Compere Jacko, the Monkey, was sitting on a tree branch eating Mataburro figs. “Ay, Compere Jacko!” the lizard called out. “I want to dress to go to my cousin’s birthday party. Can you help me?” The monkey stopped nibbling the red-gold fruit to ask, “How do you want me to help you?” “I have here some laglee from the wild Chataigne tree and some feathers which Mam’zelle Polly gave me. I want you to cover my body with laglee, and stick the feathers in it so that my skin will be completely covered.” LIke the others in the forest who heard Compere Zandolie’s complaint about his appearance, Compere Jacko felt that the lizard was being very silly.. However, he decided that since Compere Tac Tac, the Woodpecker, and Mam’zelle Polly, the Parrot, had given into his wishes, he too would agree to the lizard’s request. So he picked a twig from the Hibiscus plant, and after stripping it of its leaves, chewed the woody end to form a brush. Using this, he pasted the laglee on the lizard’s back, then carefully stuck the different coloured feathers on his back. When all the feathers had been applied, Compere Jacko stood back to admire his handiwork. He found it quite satisfactory and said so. “Yes, Compere Zandolie,” he told the lizard, “you do look fine. In fact, I think your feathers look better than Mam’zelle Polly’s.” He lifted the lizard to the stone which stood on the bank of the river, so that he could see his reflection in the pool. Compere Zandolie agreed with Compere Jacko that he looked fine. He also agreed that he looked better with the feathers than Mam’zelle Polly looked with hers. The more the lizard looked at his reflection in the river the more pleased he was with himself, and the monkey felt obliged to remind him that he had to leave to go up to the mountainside for his cousin's party. Reluctantly, Compere Zandolie crawled down the stone and set off to the party. Compere Jacko waited until he was out of sight, then he somersaulted from tree branch to tree branch until he came to a huge Hog Plum tree where Mam'zelle Polly, the Parrot, and her cousin, Compere Lorito, the Macaw, were enjoying some of the golden fruit. “Ay, Mam’zelle Polly and you, Compere Lorito, good day.” he greeted them. “And how are you, Compere Jacko?” they both asked him politely. 17“Tired,” the mischievous monkey replied. “I have not long finished helping your friend and mine, Compere Zandolie, dress for his cousin’s party. He told me you lent him some of your beautiful feathers, Mam’zelle Polly.” “How did he look, Compere Jacko?” “Oh, Mam’zelle,” the Monkey replied, “he looked - well - I helped him up the stone so he could see his reflection in the river and he could barely tear himself away.” “So he was pleased.” Mam’zelle Polly said. “Yes. He told me that he found the feathers became him even more than they did you.” the Monkey said shyly. “What?” Mam’zelle Polly screeched angrily. “How can he look better in my feathers than I do in them?” And she flew off in the direction the lizard was advised to take. It was evening when Compere Zandolie arrived at the party. The other lizards were all surprised at his appearance, and Compere Matt could not take his eyes off the unusual dress of Compere Zandolie, even while he received his gift, a calabash of fresh fruit. Suddenly, they heard an angry scream from above, as they looked upmthey saw Mam’zelle Polly, the Parrot, flying down towards Compere Zandolie. With her strong curved beak, she grabbed hold of one of the feathers, then another and another, pulling them out with bits of large laglee stuck firmly at the base of the quills. As she pulled, the tender skin of the lizard began to hurt and the lizard attempted to run away. The Parrot, however, was quick behind him and finally when she had pulled off all, he managed to run away. The Parrot, feathers scattered on the ground around her, laughed loudly and scornfully. “Zandolie!” she called out to him, “find your hole!” And so ashamed has the Zandolie been ever since, that he comes out only when he absolutely must, and then it is to hurry back to the safety and privacy of his hole in the ground. And crick crack Monkey broke his back For a piece of Pommerac.

Son-Son’s Magic Drums

One morning Pap Richie stood in his big house at the top of the hill, and heard the drums coming from Son-Son who lived in a small hut in the valley. He called the boy who was feeding the chickens. “Run down the hill and tell Son-Son I say stop playing those bamboo drums at once, they are annoying me!” he ordered. So the boy locked up the chickens in their coops and ran down the hill and into Son-Son’s yard. “Son-Son,” the boy said, “Papa Richie said not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” But Son-Son did not seem to hear him and kept on playing the drums. “Son-Son,” the boy said, raising his voice, “Papa Richie said not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” But Son-Son continued to play his drums, and in spite of himself the boy started to dance to the drums, although he kept on saying, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” Papa Richie was annoyed to hear the drums still. He shouted to the woman washing the clothes. “Go down the hill at once and tell Son-Son I say to stop playing those drums!” The woman put away her tub, scrubbing board and soap, then ran down the hill. “Son-Son,” she said as she ran into the tent, “Papa Richie says to stop playing Tambour Bamboo!” Then she saw the other two, and soon she too was dancing, the three of them singing at the top of their voices, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” Papa Richie, still hearing the drums, went into the room where the maid was sweeping. “Run down the hill and tell Son-Son I say to stop playing those drums at once!” So the maid put away her broom and dust cloth and ran down the hill and into the tent. But she too could not resist the drums, and joined the others, the four of them singing, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” The drums floated up to Papa Richie and he went into the kitchen to tell the cook, “Go down into the valley and tell Son-Son to stop playing those drums at once!” The cook put away her pots and pans and ran down the hill. “Son-Son,” she shouted “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” But Son-Son kept on playing his drums and soon the cook joined the others, five of them singing and dancing, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” The seamstress was busy with needle and thread, making some pretty dresses for Ma Richie and her daughter. Papa Richie called her away from this work. “Run down to the valley at once and stop Son-Son playing those drums!” The seamstress ran down the hill and into the palm-roofed tent. “Son-Son,” she shouted, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo! Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” Papa Richie looked out the window. His son was flying his kite, and he shouted to him, “Put away your kite, and go tell Son-Son I say stop playing those drums at once!” So his son put a huge stone on top of the spool of thread, and left the kite afloat, while he ran down the hill. “Son-Son,” he shouted as he got into the yard, “my father, Papa Richie, says to stop playing your drums at once!” But Son-Son continued his drumming, and the boy soon joined the others, seven of them dancing and singing, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo! Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” Papa Richie’s daughter was playing with her dolls when her father commanded her to go down to the valley and tell Son-Son that he wished him to stop playing the drums. So she tucked the dolls in their beds and ran down the hill and into Son-Son’s yard. “She shouted to the drummer, “Son-Son, your drums annoy my father, stop beating them at once!” But the drummer didn’t seem to hear her, and continued with her music, and she too began to dance. Eight of them were now singing and dancing, shouting, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” Papa Richie decided to send his wife down to the valley. “Go tell Son-Son I say stop playing those drums at once!” he ordered her. So Ma Richie ran down the hill and into the tent. “Son-Son,” she told the drummer, “my husband says to stop playing your drums. They annoy him.” But Son-Son did not seem to hear her, and continued playing his drums. Ma Richie saw the others dancing and joined them, the nine of them singing, “Papa Richie says not to beat Tambour Bamboo!” When Papa Richie saw that no one he sent returned, he decided to go down to the drummer himself. “Son-Son!” he roared, and he ran into the tent, “stop playing those drums at once!” But Son-Son simply got up and went into the road which led to the village, still playing his drums. Papa Richie shouted, “Son-Son, I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo!” The nine others took up the refrain, and ten of them followed Son-Son into the village shouting, “Son-Son, I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo! Son-Son I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo!” They came into the village, where people left the shops and markets to join them, all dancing behind Son-Son and singing, “Son-Son I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo!” Finally they passed the house where the richest man in the village, Mr Bouge, lived. His wife died when his only child, a girl, was quite small. The girl who was now eighteen had been so grieved about this that she never smiled, and Mr Bouge promised that any man who succeeded in making her daughter happy, if only for a moment, would have her hand in marriage and a half his fortune. When they heard the drums coming from the street and the voices singing, both Mr. Bouge and his daughter ran down the staircase to join the merriment. For the first time in many years, the daughter smiled and was happy. Round and round the village Son-Son led all the people, all singing and dancing, “Son-Son, I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo! Son-Son, I tell you don’t beat Tambour Bamboo!” Finally they were all tired out, and Son-Son put down his drums. The people went back to their shops, market stalls and to their homes. Papa Richie led the way back to his big house on top of the hill, with his wife Ma Richie and his son and daughter following. The seamstress went back to her sewing, the cook, back to completing dinner, the maid, back to sweeping the floor and dusting the chairs, the washer-woman, back to washing the clothes, the gardener, back to weeding the yard and the yard-boy, back to feeding the chickens. Mr. Bouge took Son-Son into his house and gave him half of his fortune, and his daughter for a bride, and they all lived happily ever after!

21
Josette and the Children of the Forest
When a baby dies as soon as it is born, it is said that its spirit is turned loose into the world. Sometimes it floats up into the sky to become one of the pretty clouds which float there. Sometimes it becomes part of the dainty white foam that fringes the waves of the sea. And sometimes the spirit takes form and becomes one of the children of the forest who are called Douens. One day, a little girl named Josette was with her mother, who was washing clothes in the shallows of the river. Josette looked up and saw a beautiful blue butterfly with gold tipped wings hovering over a white River Lily. She ran behind the butterfly to get a closer look at it, but it flew off to poise over a patch of multi-hued Croton. Josette ran to the Croton patch, but just as she got there, the butterfly flew to a branch of Chaconia blossoms, pausing for a while on its orange petals before flying off to a scarlet Hibiscus. The little girl kept running behind the butterfly, but each time she got near it, the pretty insect would fly away, until it finally spread its wings and flew high away out of sight. Josette looked around her, but she had run away from the river, and did not know how to find her mother without following its course. She kept walking in the hope that she would find her way to the river, and so, get back to her mother, but instead, Josette kept walking further until she got deep into the woods. Frightened, she sat on a tree root and began to cry. The sound of footsteps on dried leaves caused her to look up, and Josette was startled to see some children standing before her. They wore straw hats pulled down so far that their faces were hidden, and robes made of dried banana leaves. The most curious thing about them was, however, their feet. These faced backward, that is, in the opposite direction to where the children were going. Josette knew at once that these were Douens, the children of the forest, for she had heard some of the old people in the village spek of them. The children walked away from Josette, their toes pointing backward. They returned to her with bowls made from Calabash fruit, and in each one was a delicious ripe fruit. Josette was hungry, and she ate, thinking she had never tasted such juicy mangoes, such sweet bananas or delicious pommeracs. When she had eaten her fill, the children led her to a tiny stream, where she drank cool water and bathed her face and hands. Josette was tired and dazed, and she was only half aware of being lifted up and taken to a cave, where she was placed on a soft bed of dried leaves and fragrant moss. The Douens went to Papa Bois and Mama De l’Eau to tell of the little girl who was lost in the Deep Woods, and the Father of the Forest and the Mother of the Water called all the creatures together to plan how the girl could be returned to the village. It was agreed that Compere Jacko, the monkey, would climb a palm tree and send down enough leaves for the birds to fashion into a watertight raft with their beaks. The animals would help to push the raft into the water, and the fishes would keep it anchored while the little girl was placed on it. For a day and a night the birds worked, the candleflies providing light when it was needed to allow them to work without stopping. Finally the raft was made, and Josette, still sleeping, was placed on it. The water dwellers took turns seeing that the raft went smoothly down the river, and when they got to the village, they guided it between some stones, to prevent it from floating further downstream. Then, they all hid in the river weed which grew on the banks, and waited for dawn to break and the village-people to come for buckets of water. Compere Zangie, the water snake, was left lying in the water alongside the raft, to ensure that no harm came to the little girl, who still slept deeply. Dawn broke, painting the blue sky with touches of pink, orange and gold, and the people in the village awoke and picked up their buckets to collect water from the river. That morning, they were not laughing and chatting as they generally did, because everyone grieved over the little girl who had vanished. Suddenly, joyous sounds came from those who had run ahead, and everyone rushed to the river where the child was found, still sleeping deeply on the raft. Josette was taken home where she slept for another day and a night. When she awoke, Josette’s mother and the other villagers tried to find out from her where she had been. But although Josette knew she had been elsewhere, and had met some strange people, she could never remember clearly enough to speak to anyone about it.

The Clearing in the Forest © Copyright 1976 All Rights Reserved
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Children's Stories