Anansesem - The Caribbean Children's Literature Ezine

by Krys-Darcelle Candace Dumas

Caribbean Sunset by Sara Abed, age 10

Connor Conrad looked up from his game of marbles. Just a moment before his brother and sister had still been playing in the yard. But now they were gone.

“James?” Connor called to his friend, “Where are Sally and Benjamin?”

“I don’t know. They were here a minute ago.”

Connor started to sweat. He had been ordered to watch Sally and Benjamin while his father went to the supermarket, but he had looked away from them, only for a moment, while he took his turn with the marbles. Where had they gone?

“We have to go look for them, James.”

“I can’t,” said James. “It’s time for me to go home. Sorry dude, but you’re on your own.”

James took off, leaving Connor to ponder on his own. Connor was worried. He thought about what would happen when his father returned and asked him about the two younger ones.

“Maybe they went around by the school to ride their bicycles,” Connor thought. “I’ll go look for them there.”

He jumped onto his bike and set off down the hill. He followed the road as it swerved around a dark bend. The trees to the sides leaned over the pitch and blocked out the sun. Connor had never been down this street by himself before.

The branches from the trees bent further and further, turning into hands that reached for his head and shoulders. He sped faster, until one of the hands grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him right off his bike.

He hit the ground with a loud “thump.”

“Doo loop! Doo loop!”

“Who’s the-the-the-there?” Connor stammered. He stood in the centre of the road peering up into the thick brush.

“Shhhhh! Crack!”

There was definitely something there.

“Doo loop! Doo loop!”

There it was again. Then Connor heard a girl laughing. Sally!

“Sally? Sally, is that you? Benjamin?”

No answer.

“I have to go after them. I have to get them back home,” thought Connor.

He stiffened his upper lip, strut out his chest to hide his fear and made his way into the thick brushes to find his brother and sister.

The voices got louder and louder. “Doo loop! Dooooo looooooop!”

Suddenly there was a boy’s laughter. It definitely sounded like Benjamin.

Connor turned and hurried towards the sound. Then he stopped.  A tall tree, taller than any of the others, stood in his path. At its foot sat Sally, playing patter cake with a strange small child. Benjamin too was there, laughing loudly. He ran around and around in circles, seemingly  playing a game of tag with two other children who kept saying: “Dooloop! Dooloop!”

Connor stepped up to his brother and sister.

“Sally! Benjamin! What are you doing here? Why did you wander off?”

Sally and Benjamin  seemed not to notice Connor. But the other children did see him.

“Doo loop! Doo loop!” They started to dance around Connor, singing a strange song.


Big fluffy straw hats bumped up and down over the strange children’s eyes as they danced. Connor noticed that their clapping hands only had three fingers each, and that their footprints in the dirt went the wrong way. They also smiled with grins that took from ear to ear. Forest children! Douens! Conner had only heard of them from his grandmother. He hadn’t thought they really existed. Connor watched the Douens in growing fear. He really wished he had looked after Sally and Benjamin as he had supposed to.


Connor mustered up his courage. “Sweets? Is that what you want?”

Connor knew it was his responsibility to get his brother and sister home safely. He wasn’t about to leave them with these strange creatures. But what could he do. He had no sweets. As he stepped back from the creatures, the pockets in his pants hit heavily against his leg. The marbles! Maybe he could convince the Douens that the marbles were sweets. That way he could get Sally and Benjamin back. Connor took the net sack out of his pocket and pretended to be hesitating.

“I do have these... They’re the best sweets I’ve ever had. I’m not sure I really want to give them away.”

He looked at the Douens carefully.

The Douens hopped up and down with excitement, clapping their hands and crying even louder.

“Doo loop! Doo loop! We’re the children of the forest. Give us sweets and take your brother. Doo loooooop!”

Connor took one of the glass marbles out of the bag. The biggest one had blue, orange and purple swirls and was almost as large as his hand. He pretended to lick it. “Hmmn, these really are very good.” Then he held the marble up for the Douens to see.

The Douens all stared at the colorful glass thing. They jumped even higher now, greedily licking their lips and clapping their three-fingered hands. One of the Douens rubbed his belly and grinned even wider. With their hands outstretched, like real children begging for treats, they started moving towards Connor. It was working!.

“Give us sweets and take your brother.”

“Doo loooooooop!”

The Douens really thought the marbles were sweets!

Connor put the large marble back in the sack and fastened it tightly. With all his strength, he threw the sack towards the highest branch of the tree. There, the sack remained stuck, hanging so very high above the Douens’ heads.

The Douens stopped their singing, rushed toward the tree and started climbing quickly.

At this time, Sally and Benjamin finally seemed to come about. They stood still in the clearing. Their eyes began to clear, and, slowly, they appeared more themselves. They looked at each other, glanced around and shook themselves as if to free their heads. Without the song of the Douens, the spell was broken.

“Connor? Where are we?” Benjamin asked.

“No time to explain”, Connor said. “We have to run. Now!”

The Douens were still climbing up the tree towards the marbles. Connor grabbed Sally and Benjamin by the hand and quickly pulled them along. They ran out of the dark brushes, up the winding road, and up the hill, all the way home. Connor had abandoned his bike, but he did not mind, as he was sure he was hearing the Douens close behind him: “Doo loop! Doo loop!”

They burst through the front door just as their father was setting the grocery bags down in the kitchen.

“Dad, I’m so sorry.” Connor said. He was crying, as were Sally and Benjamin. They all were relieved to be safely home again.

“What’s wrong with you three?” their father asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“I just took my eyes off of them for a minute, and they were gone, and there were Douens.”

“Doo loop! Doo loop!” Sally and Benjamin piped in.

“I gave them all my marbles to get Sally and Ben back.”

“Connor, I don’t understand. Slow down and start at the beginning.”

Connor’s father listened attentively to the tearful story. At the end, he was very proud of his son. Connor had taken the responsibility to get his brother and sister home safely, even sacrificing his favorite marbles for them, and he had told the truth about what happened.

“Calm down, Connor. I left Sally and Benjamin with you because I knew you were responsible enough to watch them. Don’t worry. They are safe. You did a good job. They are home now and everything is okay.”





About the author

Krys-Darcelle Candace Dumas is a 26 year-old writer from Trinidad and Tobago. She aspires to revolutionize the literature coming out of her home country. While completing her English degree at the University of the West Indies, Mona campus, she was taken under the wing of Wayne Brown. He recognized her creative talent and encouraged her to publish her work. In 2007, Dumas’ short story 'Pretty Death' was acquired by the Jamaica Gleaner. She has also published short stories in the Jamaica Observer and a children's book, 'The Adventures of Drippy the Raindrop' in collaboration with the Buccoo Reef Trust. She currently works as a copywriter in advertising and as a tutor at the University of the West Indies in Trinidad.


About the illustrator

Sara Abed is 10 years old and from Iraq. Her hobbies are gymnastics and taking care of animals; she also enjoys playing the piano.

By Mark Greenwood (Author), Frané Lessac (Illustrator)
Lee and Low Books
Picture book/biography, ages 3-8

It's Carnival time in Trinidad and the residents of John John are busy preparing for the big Carnival parade. When the Roti King announces that he will give free rotis to the best mas band in the parade, young, roti-loving Winston desperately wishes he was in a band. Wandering into the junkyard one day, Winston accidentally discovers that he can produce musical sounds from old discarded containers― biscuit tins, oil cans, pots, and pans. Winston's musical prowess soon draws a following and a band is formed. Using their freshly fashioned instruments, they steal the show at the Carnival parade and drum their way to a roti feast to be remembered.

Greenwood's writing in Drummer Boy of John John strikes a pleasant note; the story is deftly and exuberantly told. In the junkyard scene and subsequent pages, Winston's discovery of the musical potential of the discarded containers is given abundant onomatopoeic treatment; a read-aloud of this book is sure to inspire a fun element of musical performance. The use of the phonetic representation "de" to convey a Trinidadian Creole pronunciation of the word "the" is unnecessary for Caribbean readers and will probably be appreciated more by a non-Caribbean audience.

Lessac's illustrations are executed in her trademark style; colorful goucahe paintings and flowing lines capture the freedom and movement of Trinidad and Tobago Carnival. Lessac's rendering of Trinidad Carnival costumes will not ring true with contemporary Trinidadian readers, but it is worthwhile to remember that the story takes place in 1930s Trinidad; even so, the depiction of Carnival costumes in the book lacks cultural authenticity, as does the pastoralization of the inner city neighborhood of John John.

The character Winston in the story is based on Winston "Spree" Simon, the self-taught Trinidadian instrumentalist who pioneered indigenous steel percussion music, including the steelpan; however, the historical significance of Simon's discovery is not conveyed by the story, rather, that narrative is relegated to the Author's Note at the end of the book. Drummer Boy of John John seems to be more about Winston's triumph in the Roti King competition rather than a true-told story about the invention of the steelpan.

Overall, an enjoyable picturebook valuable for its celebratory treatment of Trinidad Carnival and steelpan music.





About the Reviewer...

Summer Edward was born in Trinidad and lives in Philadelphia, USA. She is the Managing Editor and Kids Editor here at Anansesem. Her poems and art have been published in literary magazines such as tongues of the ocean, BIM: Arts for the 21st Century, Philadelphia Stories, The Columbia Review, The Caribbean Writer, sx salon and more. She was shortlisted for the 2012 Small Axe Literary Prize in the fiction category. She blogs at www.summeredward.com.

by Carmen Milagros-Torres

A vegigante by Erick Ortiz Gelpi

When February arrives, the people of Ponce, Puerto Rico prepare for their special festival, the Carnival of Ponce. It is a week-long celebration full of music, dancing, and parades. The Carnival of Ponce has been celebrated in Puerto Rico for hundreds of years. The most important part of this celebration are the masked vejigantes in their bright costumes.

The vejigantes look like colorful monsters that leap and dance to the beat of the drums. Wearing bright, satiny jumpers with wing-like sleeves, they look like human bats. But the most important part of the vejigante costume is the mask.

The masks are made of layers of paper and glue known as paper-mâché. The dried mask is painted in bright yellows, reds, purples, and blues. The artisans then paint complex designs with circles, squares, triangles, or big and small rectangles. All the masks have horns. Some have two horns, some have three, some have seven horns. One mask even has thirteen.

The vejigantes also carry a vejiga, a bag made of cow bladder that is filled with pebbles. The vejiga makes a maraca-like sound as the vejigante swings it trying to hit the people. As the vejigante walk in the parade, the watch the crowd of people. Suddenly, they jump and start chasing any person they see.  They swing the vejiga trying to catch the person who laughs and runs. The crowd cheers at the vejigantes. The vejigante jumps and dances in the crowd and then returns back to the parade.

The vejigantes love to dance.  They move to the rhythm of bomba, the traditional music of Puerto Rico.  This music originated in Africa and is mainly produced by the bomba drum which is made from a barrel. The bomba musician sits behind the drum as he pounds out the rhythm: TUN-TUN-tun-tun, TUN-TUN-tun-tun, TUN-TUN-tun-tun.

When the vejigantes hear the music, they begin to dance. Vejigantes dressed in blue, vejigantes dressed in yellow, vejigantes dressed in green, and vejigantes dressed in purple. And all dance to the rhythm of TUN-TUN-tun-tun. As they walk down the street you can hear, “The vejigantes are coming!” The children shout and dance, twirling round and round. The vejigantes jump and dance and join the children’s dance.

Then comes the round of chants. The vejigantes and children chant silly songs about the vejigantes and the carnival:

Vejigantes: Knock, knock, knock, knock!
Children:         The vejigantes eat coconut!
Vejigantes: Pru-cu-ta, pru-cu-ta!
Children:         How good is all that?
Vejigantes: That old woman is a witch!
Children:         A witch she is!
Vejigantes: And her eyes are the color...
Children:         of chocolate!
Vejigantes: Vejigante to the water!
Children:         Bread and onion!
Vejigantes: Vejigante ate mango !
Children:         And even licked his toes!
Vejigantes: Knock, knock, knock, knock!
Children:         The vejigantes eat coconut!
Vejigantes: La-ri-O, la-ri-O!
Children:         La-ri-O, la-ri-O!
Vejigantes: La-ri,la-ri, la-ri-O!
Children:         La-ri,la-ri, la-ri-O!

And then the vejigantes once more dance to the rhythm of bomba. When the music ends, the vejigantes leave the carnival. They will return next February to dance and play more pranks.




About the author...

Carmen Milagros Torres is a professor at the University of Puerto Rico at Humacao. She is currently completing a PhD in Caribbean Linguistics. Her interests include photography, crocheting and reading children's literature, especially Caribbean children's books which highlight the Afro-Caribbean experience.

About the illustrator...

Erick Ortiz Gelpi is a plastic artist and visual arts teacher from Peñuelas, Puerto Rico. He has participated in numerous collective and individual art expositions. His illustrations have appeared in The Caribbean Voice newspaper published in New York.

by Lisa Shaw

“Quick! Distract the monster and get the energy shields!” Micky shouted.

“Energy shields activated!” his twin brother Ricky announced. “Just one more obstacle and we’ll be level 9 champions.”

Micky and Ricky both did a little jig as they anticipated the leader board ratings they would surely get for clearing one of the most difficult rounds in their favourite Internet game. They had never made it this far before, and they had been playing all summer.

Micky returned to the computer, rubbed his hands together, and began his turn at clearing the last obstacle course in the game. They had discovered a long time ago that they played the game better together than on their own. Ricky was so excited that he stood, hands in mid-air with fists closed, ready to celebrate. Victory was only a moment away.

“Now, Micky! Now! Fire the cannonball now! ”

“Boys!” Grandpa called from the living room where he was watching television. “Too loud!  Keep it down a little.”

Grandpa had come up from the country to stay with them for two weeks. The boys were glad that they could get to spend more time at home, and with Grandpa. Usually they would have been at the Big Kids Day Care as both their mom and dad worked during the daytime.

“Ok Grandpa!” Ricky answered. He then whispered to his twin brother, “Micky! Fire the cannonball now! ”

Before Micky could proceed, the place went eerily silent. Micky and Ricky gasped in horror. The computer screen was black. There were no sounds coming from the television in the living room. The timer on the electric stove was no longer showing. The fan stopped whirring. They looked at each other in disbelief.

“Power’s gone, boys”, Grandpa confirmed.

“Nooooooooo!” they both shouted at the same time.

But it was true. The power was off. Despair settled on their faces so much that Grandpa tried to let them feel better.

“Maybe it will come back soon. Sometimes the power doesn’t stay off for very long.”

“It doesn’t matter, Grandpa”, Micky sulked. “Even if the power comes back now, we still would have to start our game all over again.”

“Yeah”, agreed Ricky, “and we’ve been playing all morning so it would take us a very long time to get to that level again.”

“Yeah”, Micky said.

“Hmmm”, replied Grandpa. “Well, you know boys, you could find something else to do.”

“But what can we do?” asked Micky. “There’s no tv to watch...”

“No CD’s to listen to”, added Ricky, “and the DS isn’t charged.”

“Well then”, said Grandpa. “Aren’t you guys in a bind! How about some schoolwork?”

“But it’s summer! That’s why we get holidays – no school!” protested Ricky.

“You could go outside to play”, Grandpa tried again.

“But there’s nothing to do outside”, they wailed.

“Hmmm...”. Grandpa rubbed his chin. “Ok, how about a game of marbles?”

“We don’t have any marbles”, Ricky responded.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to have a gig, would you?” Grandpa asked.

“A what?” Micky asked.

“Gig”, repeated Grandpa. “Know what that is?”

“No”, they said.

“It’s also called a top…”

“Oh! And you spin it round and round. We know what you mean now. But we don’t have any”, Micky said.

“Do you boys have a kite?”

“The last one we bought got torn.”

“Bought?” Grandpa roared with laughter. After he finished laughing, he shook his head. “You boys really don’t make things anymore – those kites that we used to make with the branches of the coconut tree were very strong.”

“Really, Grandpa? But how did you get the designs, like the dragon, the bird, the butterfly…”, a curious Micky asked.

“Well, our kites weren’t so fancy back then but guess what? We had fun making them. Most times all you needed was paper, the spine of the coconut leaves for the frame, a piece of ribbon for the tail and some strong cord.”

“Sounds like fun, Grandpa”, said Micky, with his hands resting on his cheek. “Maybe we could try to make our own kite someday, right Ricky?”

“Maybe.”

“How about elastic bands?” Grandpa asked, “there are a lot of games we could play with those – Bounce Back, Chinese Skip…”

“We had some once”, Ricky said, “don’t know what we did with them, though…”

“I think I know where they are, Ricky! I’ll go get them!”

Minutes later Micky emerged from the bedroom with a box of varying sized elastic bands. He gave them to Grandpa, who counted out an equal number for all of them. The boys went with Grandpa to the living room wall and watched as Grandpa showed them how to bounce the elastic band off the wall, so as to have it land on the other bands already on the floor. Curiosity gave way to enjoyment and minutes later the boys were rolling in laughter on the ground.

“That was fun! Now all my elastic bands are gone”, Micky said. “So, what else did you do for fun, Grandpa?”

“Oh, lots of things – we used to make our own cricket bat and catapult, roll an old car tyre with two pieces of stick in it, climb trees – even your mother used to climb trees!”, Grandpa laughed.

The boys gasped and looked at each other in giggling amusement. Suddenly they couldn’t wait for their mom to come home!

“You boys should come and spend some time in the country next summer. This apartment is too stifling for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves.”

Just then, the boys heard the familiar sound of the whirring fan and the hum of the computer. The television was back on, and so too were the other gadgets that were plugged in.

“Power’s back, Grandpa!!” they shouted.

“Let’s go back to the game!!! Level 9 champions, here we come!”

Grandpa shook his head and smiled at the two figures huddled around the computer. It had felt good sharing all those things he used to do when he was much younger. Now it was time to go back to watching his television show.

“Power’s back, indeed.”





About the author

Lisa Shaw is a Jamaican university lecturer in the computing field who has a passion for creative writing. In the 2011 Jamaica Cultural Development Commission (JCDC) Creative Writing Competition, she was awarded Best Junior Short Story Writer, overall Choice Writer and a Gold medal in the Junior Short Story category for her submission 'The Adventures of Jonah and Mesky the Mosquito'. She also obtained a certificate of merit for her first JCDC entry in 2008, a radio play entitled 'Peace'. She dabbles in some poetry and enjoys writing short plays. She is a mother of two young children.

About the illustrator

Janiene Facey is a Chartered Accountant from Jamaica who has a passion for photography and art. She is a self-taught artist who has been painting for the past three years and has not stopped since. She specializes in acrylic medium and her artwork has ended up in numerous private collections both in Jamaica and Barbados.

Danielle C. McManus-Sladek
United States/Jamaica

Mike Blanc

Summer Edward interviews Marsha Gomes-Mckie

Marsha Gomes-Mckie

In the field of children's literature, the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) can be considered the gold standard of professional associations. Founded in Los Angeles, USA in 1971, and with chapters in every American state and over 70 countries, the SCBWI plays a strong role in children's publishing worldwide.

In the Caribbean region, an active chapter of the SCBWI once existed. Headquartered in Trinidad, a small cadre of illustrators, writers, and activists from various islands started meeting in 2005. With Trinbagonian children's book author Joanne Gail Johnson at the helm, the group was known as the Caribbean South Chapter of the SCBWI.

In its earliest incarnation, the Caribbean South Chapter was both a writing group and a grassroots professional development organization. Members worked out a culture and a modus operandi for producing and championing children's literature at the local level. But by 2007, after a promising start, the Caribbean South Chapter had fallen into stagnancy.

Now fresh life is stirring in the Caribbean South Chapter; a new Regional Advisor, Marsha Gomes-Mckie, has been selected. Born and raised in Trinidad, Marsha Gomes-Mckie admits that she has always been "a twister of words" and that she embraced art at an early age. A member of the 'Women in Art' group in Trinidad, she is also the founder, author, and publisher of Family Matters, a fledgling values-focused ezine which supports Trinbagonian mompreneurs. Gomes-Mckie is married with one child.

I recently chatted with Gomes-Mckie about her new position, children's publishing, dirty ducks, and more.