My Party

A large flat rock is my table. Tall golden grasses surround it, as well as several thorn trees, the ones with the flat tops. They shade the table, like umbrellas.  The aloes make the candlesticks, so it’s a real party.

The table is laden with delicacies—seeds in their pods, little brown nuts, dried Mopani worms, green fern fronds, red berries from the Good Luck tree, and squigglies and wrigglies. Most of my guests prefer the squigglies and wrigglies—they’re more fun to eat because you have to catch them before they escape off the plate, especially the jumping beans.

My guests are an unlikely lot. I will seat them around the rock table, a special place for each of them.

My first guest is wise Owl. She looks this way and that, her beak is sharp, and her talons are strong. Sometime I go flying with Owl, sitting on her back holding tightly so I don’t fall off. She takes me where I want to go. Her wings beat, whooshing the air, up and down. We glide and dive and rise again. She thinks a lot but says very little. In her presence I tend to answer my own questions—big questions. I get true answers from Owl, most of the time. And she never opens her beak!

Opposite from Owl, I seat the Mice. I never know how many will show up because they are busy, busy, busy. When I ask them “How’ve you been?” they reply “Busy,” and look at me strangely like I ought to be busy too. They get their work done, and sometimes they do my work too, if I’m lucky. Their busy-ness inspires me, gives me hope for new and better things. The Mice watch Owl carefully, just in case she is thinking of nice Mice for dinner. But there are plenty of good things for Owl to eat on my table, and she is not interested in Mice today.

On the far left I seat Leopard, who has many spots and strong legs for running. He has an aristocratic face with fine whiskers and big golden eyes. Leopard smirks—he knows he is the fastest creature and he doesn’t want anyone to forget it.  The others don’t like Leopard very much. Besides, he has a nasty smell about him. But Leopard is proud and bold, even if he is self-centered. Occasionally I take a ride on his back as he gallops over the grasslands just for the fun of it. Then he rests in a tree, draped over the branches like somebody’s washing hung out to dry. He looks like he’s asleep but really he is watching through half-closed eyes. He knows that pride goes before a fall, and he doesn’t want to fall out of his

tree and make a fool of himself.  It’s lonely being Leopard, and he is glad to be included at my party. 

Next to Leopard sits Snake—long and colorful. Most of the time she is wound into a pretty, neat coil. Then she stretches out and slides quietly out of sight. Snake is a healer, but she is dangerous too. You can’t have one without the other. Snake is seated opposite from Owl. They respect each other—both are the silent types. Snake is wise in her ways, but she’s not a thinker. She just acts when she needs to, swiftly and decisively.

 “My Nana, where is Black-backed Jackal? Didn’t you invite him? He’s my play-friend.” So I say “Of course! We will make room for him.” I like to play with Black-backed Jackal too. So I put Black-backed Jackal between Leopard and Snake, to keep the peace between them.

Grandboy Oliver is my heart’s delight. He is the future, and he’s the playful one. He plays giggly games with the Mice, slithers with Snake, and romps with Black-backed Jackal. Like me, he’s happy because all the friends are at the table, eating delightful food. The guests like the squigglies and the wrigglies the best, but Grandboy Oliver prefers a cupcake.