Anansi Is a Big Eater UFLI Foundations Lesson 121

Anansi cooks all morning. By midday, the smell from his house makes all the animals hungry. There is thick nut stew, golden fried yams, and a pot of nut soup that bubbles and bubbles. Anansi sets his table and grins. He is a fine cook, and today he will eat all of it, with no visitor to feed. Then, knock, knock! A slow knock at his door.

It is Turtle, a dusty visitor from a long road. 'Anansi,' says Turtle, 'I have walked from sunrise to midday. That soup smells like a dream.' Anansi looks at the steaming pots. He looks at Turtle. He looks at the pots again. 'Yes, yes,' he says, with a wide, fake smile. 'Sit down and eat.' Turtle reaches for the bowl. Anansi lifts one leg. 'But first, we wash hands at the river. It is the custom in this house.'

The river is not near, and Turtle is no runner. When he comes back with clean hands, Anansi is midway through the yams. 'Sit, sit!' says Anansi. 'There is plenty.' Turtle reaches for the stew. 'Oh, but look,' says Anansi, and he shakes his head slowly. 'Your hands are dusty again. You touched the ground on the way back. Go wash!' Turtle looks down. His hands are dusty. The river is not near. Turtle goes again.

When Turtle returns, hands spotless and legs aching, the pots are empty. Anansi wipes his mouth with a cloth and leans back, feeling like a winner. 'I am sad, my friend,' he says. He does not look sad at all. 'My belly is full, and the food is all finished. Come back another time.' Turtle looks at the clean, empty pots. He says nothing. He just nods slowly, the way you nod when you have a plan. 'A guest remembers how he is fed,' says Turtle, and he walks back down the road.

After three days, Anansi finds a neatly folded leaf at his door. It is a note from Turtle, in berry ink: Come to my home down on the riverbed. I am cooking a feast for you. That night, Anansi dreams of spiced clams, smoked fish, and sweet honey bites. What a dreamer! He is at the riverbank before the mist lifts.

The problem comes when Anansi jumps in. He floats. Not a bit, a lot! He bobs on top like a cork, while Turtle, a smooth diver, sinks down and waves him down. Below, Turtle's table is set with dishes. Anansi spins his legs, kicks, and churns the water, but he pops back to the top each time. He is a kicker and a spinner, but he is no diver.

Turtle comes up. 'What is the matter, Anansi?' he asks, in a very polite voice. 'The current is strong,' says Anansi, which is not true. 'Maybe you could tie a stone to my leg?' Turtle tilts his head. 'Oh, I would not want you to be hurt. Come down when you are ready.' Then Turtle sinks again. Anansi looks at the riverbank. There are plenty of stones there, round, flat, heavy ones, deep in the mud. Anansi is a sly joker. He has a plan.

Anansi scurries up the bank and looks left and right. A fisherman is drying a thick reed jacket on a post. Perfect! Anansi stuffs the pockets with stones, three on each side, and slips the jacket on. It is heavy. Very heavy. But when he wades in and jumps, he sinks straight down, just like a proper diver. Turtle smiles and serves the feast. Spiced clams, smoked fish, sweet honey bites, all of it, and more.

Anansi reaches for the first dish. 'Before we eat,' says Turtle, 'we take off what we wear outside. It is the custom in my home.' Turtle sets down his small hat and folds it neatly. He looks at the reed jacket. Anansi looks at the reed jacket too. If he takes off the jacket, he floats up. If he keeps it on, he can not reach over its stiff, heavy sides. The clams steam. The fish smell so good. Turtle takes a big mouthful. Poor Anansi is just a watcher at the feast.

Anansi does not give up. He reaches this way and that way. No. He tips his bowl up to his mouth, but the bowl turns over. He slips one arm out. The jacket shifts, he tilts, and the water takes him up, up, and out. Anansi is a flier now! He spins slowly and lands on the bank with a thump, wet stones bouncing all over. Down below, Turtle eats the last of the fish and folds his napkin.

Turtle comes up a minute later, looking very full and very peaceful. 'I am sad, my friend,' he says, in a tone Anansi knows well. 'My belly is full, and the dishes are empty. Come back another time.' Anansi sits on the bank, wet and hungry, with his stones all about him. He thinks about the dusty road. He thinks about the two trips to the river. He thinks about the empty pots. Turtle is a fine teacher. 'A guest remembers how he is fed,' says Turtle, and he slips under the water.

Anansi goes home and sits by his cold pots for a while. Then he buys yams and nuts and cooks enough for four. The next visitor is a dusty guinea-fowl from a long road. Anansi serves the food right away, at the table, with no trip to the river. It is not because Anansi is kind now. It is because Anansi has a very good memory. A guest remembers how he is fed, and so does a host who has been a guest. Anansi learns fast.