We Are Story

Kismet is one of my favorite words. I love to say it, and I love to experience it. It has a hint of onomatopoeia to my ears–whether it technically fits the definition or not. (I checked; it doesn’t.) But hear me out: “‘Tis meant!” she shouted when a pair of boots just her size mysteriously appeared at the trailhead the very moment hers fell apart.

The word itself has Arabic (qisma), Persian (qismat-portion or lot) and Turkish (qismet-fate) roots, and when the American author and playwright, Julia Constance Fletcher, learned about kismet while traveling in Egypt, she was inspired to write her 1877 ode to fate and destiny called A Nile Novel, or Kismet. It featured a group of white travelers pondering the mysteries of love while floating down the River Nile. “Just met!” she whispered when he pulled his deck chair closer to hers. The book’s popularity is said to have increased usage of the word.

My husband and I recently celebrated his birthday in Montreal at a bustling North Indian restaurant called Darbar. It was kismet when I opened their website and saw this:

ALL THAT WE ARE IS STORY. From the moment we are born to the time we continue on our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best possible story we can while we’re here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we take the time to share those stories with each other, we get bigger inside, we see each other, we recognize our kinship — we change the world one story at a time. 

Richard Wagamese, Ojibwe Canadian author & journalist (1955-2017)

I got a shiver knowing that a First Nations Canadian writer’s words were conveying the essence of a Punjabi restaurant in Montreal, Quebec to me in Seattle–and to everyone, anywhere in the world who happened upon them. Story. It’s who and what we are, all of us. It’s the perfect introduction to this post. “Wish met!” she sighed with delight.   

 A Story A Story:  An African Tale Retold

Haley, Gail E.  1970

We start at the beginning with this tale from the Ashanti people of Ghana. Time was Nyame, Sky God to the Ashanti, kept all the stories of the world in a box next to his royal stool. It was Kwaku Ananse, a small & clever Spider man, who spun a web to the sky to ask Nyame if he might buy the stories to share with all the people. Nyame laughs at the audacity of Spider but makes him an offer anyway. Bring me Osebo, the leopard-of-the-terrible-teeth; Mmboro, the hornet who-stings-like-fire; & Mmoatia, the fairy whom-men-never-see. Ananse calmly accepts the seemingly impossible challenge & climbs back to earth to get to work.

Now the storyteller & listeners’ fun in sight & sound begins in earnest. Haley’s double page woodcuts were awarded the Caldecott Medal in 1971, and they lend themselves beautifully to group sharing. Brilliant pastels & close-ups of Ananse & his prey leap from the page. The text sings with the repetition of Nyame’s chuckling–twe, twe, twe; Ananse running along the jungle path–yiridi, yiridi, yiridi; & creeping through tall grass–sora, sora, sora. His ingenuity is on full display as he captures leopard, hornet & fairy to give Nyame in exchange for his stories. Once back on earth Ananse throws open the golden box & the stories scatter to all corners of the world.

This Ananse story is but one variation on a character that traveled from Ghana on slave ships to the Caribbean & southern United States during the transatlantic slave trade. How fitting that Spider & his stories, in order to survive, were carried by the strongest, most adaptable & resilient of the desperate millions dispossessed. Whether he’s Ananse, Anansi, Anancy or Aunt Nancy, Spider reminds us that survival demands keeping one’s wits about oneself & staying alert to the risks humans & animals can pose. Essential, too, is the conviction that sharing wisdom by example & through story will endure.  

How to Build a Hug:  Temple Grandin and Her Amazing Squeeze Machine

Guglielmo, Amy and Tourville, Jacqueline.  Illus. by Giselle Potter.   2018

Dr. Temple Grandin is an animal behaviorist, advocate for the humane treatment of livestock, and autism rights activist. She had a challenging childhood as a smart & very sensitive girl. She felt out of place at school because it was too noisy. She disliked being touched by people & things because they were too scratchy. She created outlets for her genius & enjoyed them by herself. She planned & built things. She loved her dog & made games to play with him. Still, she yearned for the closeness of this thing called a hug she saw others give and receive with pleasure.

One magic summer, after a year at boarding school for children with special needs, a more confident Temple went to work on her aunt’s cattle ranch. It changed Temple’s life. There she saw a skittish calf that was waiting for a veterinarian exam, being calmed by a ‘squeeze chute,’ a metal contraption that snugly cradled & soothed it. As she sat with the hushed calf, Temple had an idea. Maybe she could make a squeeze machine for herself to get used to the feel of something all around her that wasn’t too scratchy or too noisy…something very much like a hug.

Giselle Potter was the perfect choice to illustrate Grandin’s story. I fell in love with her quirky picture book autobiography, The Year I Didn’t Go to School, ages ago & have been a fan ever since. Her watercolor illustrations–from the endpapers to the authors’ note—are loaded with the stuff of Temple’s story–tools & specs for building projects, images of noise & quiet, and facial expressions full of both discomfort & delight.      

It Began With a Page: How Gyo Fujikawa Drew the Way

Maclear, Kyo.   Illus. by Julie Morstad.  2019

Gyo Fujikawa’s life as a groundbreaker began in 1913 when she was five years old, growing up the daughter of first-generation Japanese American immigrants in northern California. It was then that she took pencil in hand, turned to an empty white page & began drawing. Gyo loved to draw. She loved everything about it—how the pencil felt in her hand, how it glided over the paper, & how, if she added a splash of yellow or blue, a brand-new picture would appear.

Gyo was passionate about creating art & believed she was talented, but she also knew that her parents had few resources to support her dream of becoming an artist. Enter two high school teachers who really see this girl: Gyo, whose eyes missed nothing, who could sketch rivers and boats and birds like a dream. They commit to her future–& this story–by paying Gyo’s way to art school in Los Angeles in 1926.

Imagine! Alone in LA as an 18-year-old Japanese American woman with big dreams–but not much else. She learned as she drew. When she finished art school, she traveled to Japan to learn traditional brush painting & steep herself in the culture of her ancestors. But there were too many rules. So, she traveled the country alone, learning as she went—wood blocks & carving while floating in a sea of kimonos. If Gyo hasn’t stolen your heart by now and convinced you of her place among trailblazers in the art world, read on to see & learn of her importance to the concept of diversity in books for the very young.

This biography in the form of a picture book is for all who remember Babies, the board book published in 1963 that Fujikawa wrote & illustrated. Full of babies of all colors, shapes & sizes, doing things naughty & nice, alone & at play with others, it was at first rejected by publishers. But the undeniably talented & persistent artist prevailed…and it all began with a page.

111 Trees:  How One Village Celebrates the Birth of Every Girl

Singh, Rina.   Illus. by Marianne Ferrer.  2020

Meet Sundar Paliwal, a young boy growing up in the small Indian village of Piplantri, located in the desert region of the state of Rajasthan. His favorite thing to do each day is to accompany his mother on the long walk to the well for water. He helps by collecting firewood as they go. It’s the only time he has her all to himself, and he cherishes it. When Sundar’s mother dies suddenly from a snake bite and is unceremoniously whisked away from their mud house, he is devastated. His grief has no outlet save the embrace of a tree—like the trees he and his mother would rest beneath during their hikes in the hot sun.

Years later, when Sundar becomes a husband and father, he reflects on the very different expectations the village has for girls and boys. The birth of a boy is cause for celebration. The birth of a girl is greeted with silence. He remembers how hard his mother, & every woman in the village, labored to care for their families, and how little respect they received. He is troubled by the inequality in educational opportunity between boys and girls. He and his wife commit to doing things differently with their own children. But it is the death of their oldest daughter that propels Sundar into activism on a grand scale. And here’s where the trees come in—thousands of trees. 111 trees planted to honor the birth of each girl in Piplantri. Trees planted to heal the deforestation around the nearby marble mine. Trees to capture water & rebalance the ecosystem for agriculture.   

111 Trees is one title in the CitizenKid series of books from Kids Can Press. The collection’s mission is to inform children ages 8-12 about the world and inspire them to be better global citizens. In case that sounds more preachy than inspiring, I encourage you to have a look. Beautifully illustrated by Venezuelan-born artist, Marianne Ferrar, in lush watercolors, gouache, and graphite, it hums with life & the promise of a better world.