The Banana Mystic

In celebration of Birago Day: African and Caribbean Folklore Day on 11th December 2024, Fusion Arts is proud to publish The Banana Mystic by Natty Mark Samuels on our website.

When you pass through the Guyanese forest, you have to bring a portion of tobacco to Hebu, the guardian of that verdant immensity. And there's a river in Jamaica, where safe passage is assured during its crossing, by the presentation of an ackee, to the spirit of that river. An offering of watermelon for Yemoja, orisha of motherhood and the sea; bougainvillea for Damballah, Creation deity of Vodou. But the Banana Mystic asks nothing of those who want to walk through the Groves of Musa, where plantain and banana grow. All you have to do to pass through, is to make a promise of tenderness, an oath of right-doing, that all life within the places of yellow and green, will be the recipient of that ten letter word. That was the passport through: tenderness.

She says she has all she needs. Beautiful place to live, fresh air, quality food, so she loves to share her home with all, especially the younger ones, who came through as part of their Forest School education. She teaches them to serenade the ant, chant for the falling leaf; initiates them in the choreography of the butterflies. And at the end of the lesson, there's a slice of banana cake for each young student; a wedge for the ones, who paid the most attention during class.

There was the time when one of the pupils had forgotten his coat. It began to get cold and he began to shiver. Quick as the kingfisher in the nearby river, she began to wrap the shivering one in the leaves of her name; in the largest fronds the groves have to offer. And she looked great! Black trainers, green tracksuit bottoms, yellow sweatshirt and a green wooly hat, wrapped in the green foliage. Some of her schoolmates wanted the same vegetal makeover, but as the Banana Mystic didn't want to take from the groves more than was needed – and they had coats or jackets - she had to decline their exuberant requests. But photos of their classmate went viral; on websites and blogs of botanical gardens, nature reserves and conservation associations. Front page on her local newspaper and her school newsletter also. She did look good though, like a trainee sentinel, at the shrine of plantain.

And if you walked through the groves in the evening, through the candle and starlight, she'd tell stories; some for entertainment, some for learning. Like the one from Tanzania, about the ogre called Kinyamkela, who for two days, bombarded two boys, without mercy and without ceasefire, with rocks and mud missiles, because unknowingly, they'd taken a bunch of his bananas. Or the one from Suriname, featuring Ananse the celebrated arachnid, in an episode about plantain and the consequences of greed. And sometimes she'd chant...

Banana porridge in the morning,

Fried plantain for lunch,

Fufu in the evening time.

Tenderness,

That's all I ask of you,

Keeping the trees at their prime.

So you see, night or day, everyone was welcome in the Groves of Musa, as long as tenderness permeated their interaction there.

Musa is the genus – first part of the scientific term - for banana and plantain.