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Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Afloat

A >> Alan Douglas >> Afloat

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An hour, two of them had slipped by since parting from Johnny Spreen.
They were now in the heart of the swamp. All around them lay a solemn
silence broken only by the splash of a bullfrog leaping from a bank,
the gurgle of some water snake or the solemn croak of a bittern fishing
near by, followed by the flap of its wings as it flew away, alarmed by
their approach.

All of the boys were more or less impressed by this strange silence.
It seemed as though some heavy weight were pressing down upon them.
Toby even whispered to one of his mates that it could hardly be worse
if they were passing through a country graveyard at midnight.

At the same time, all of them being bright, wide-awake fellows, there
were plenty of interesting things continually cropping up to arouse
their interest as scouts. Every minute or so someone was calling
attention to this or that thing, though never forgetting the need of
caution.

If at any time a voice was raised more than Elmer deemed wise, a single
"hist" from his lips caused the speaker to moderate his tones instantly.

By now they were not so much concerned about where they went as the
possibility of finding the missing skiff. Eager eyes were ever on the
alert. A number of times Lil Artha, or it might be Toby or Chatz, felt
a sudden thrill as some object caught their attention ahead, which at
first glance seemed to open up great possibilities. Then as they moved
closer and a better chance came to investigate, deep disappointment and
chagrin would follow; for after all it turned out to be only the end of
a log, or some such simple thing, and not the stern of the old skiff at
all.

Elmer happened to be a little ahead of the other boat at the time
Chatz, consulting his nickel watch, found it was just ten o'clock.
When he showed this to Toby the latter grinned as though very much
pleased.

"I nominated ten, didn't I, Chatz?" he remarked in a low tone; "when
you asked me to take a squint up at the sun, and say what the hour
might be?"

"You certainly hit it that time in the bull's-eye, suh," admitted the
Southern lad; "and I confess that I thought it half an hour later. I'm
still some shy, it seems, on telling time by the sun and stars."

A low hiss from Elmer just then, as he wielded the pole, caused the two
scouts to stop talking, and turn their attention to what was going on.
The first thing they discovered was that the skiff was now heading for
the near shore. Then looking further the boys could see that evidently
someone must have camped there, for to the practiced eye many things
indicated as much.

When the prow of the flat-bottomed boat ran gently up on the shore, at
a low order from the skipper, Ted, who happened to be further up in the
bow than any of the others, jumped to the land and began to draw the
skiff up.

There was a bank several feet high just beyond, but Ted waited until
the others had also disembarked before attempting to ascend this. By
now the other boat had also reached shore, with its crew tumbling out,
though avoiding any sign of confusion, for they were pretty well
drilled in the elements of obedience to orders, as all true scouts
should be.

No sooner had the boys gained the higher ground than they readily
discovered that it had been the site of a camp at some time in the not
far-distant past.

A number of things told them this, chief of which might be mentioned
the little pile of dead ashes that lay in plain sight. They could even
see the sticks that the unknown party had used when cooking some sort
of meat close to the red coals.

All of them gathered around. Elmer gravely examined the ashes, while
the others eagerly waited to hear his decision.

"Quite some time old," said the leader at last, having figured out the
solution by means of certain rules well known to those who have made
woodcraft a study. "At least a couple of rains have passed over since
this fire was left. There are no footprints that I can see. That also
goes to show it was some time ago; but I think it was only one person
who camped here."

He pointed as he spoke to where soft hemlock browse had been gathered
as if for the purpose of forming a couch; and there being but a single
bed even Landy could guess Elmer was correct when he said one party had
made the temporary camp.

"Then it must have been the unknown man," said Lil Artha, "and our chum
Hen wasn't along at the time."

They moved around as if looking for further signs, because scouts are
always keen to find tell-tale marks that will add to the size of the
edifice they are building up, founded partly on conjecture and also on
"give-away" facts.

Lil Artha it was who emitted a low whistle, and the others glancing up,
well knowing that he must have made some sort of important discovery,
saw him waving one of his hands to them--he held the Marlin
double-barrel with the other, of course.

"See that?" he told them when they reached his side amidst the bushes
adjacent to the little opening where the long-cold fire ashes lay.

"Feathers, for a cookey!" exclaimed Toby, "and a heap of the same, too."

"Now we know what he cooked on the ends of those sticks!" observed Mark.

"Yeth, and now we know where one of Farmer Trotter's henth went to,"
added Ted.

"This is more than Johnny ever ran across," remarked Lil Artha,
"because he only guessed the chicken thief was hiding in the swamp, for
he'd seen tracks. Hold on, he did say there was ashes, too, at the
place he picked up that filed half-circle of steel, but it must have
been in a different place from this."

"Well, it's only a little incident after all," said Elmer, "and doesn't
tell us much that we didn't know before."

"Only that we're on the track of those lost chickens, you know,"
chuckled the tall scout. "But see here, Elmer, if they made a fizzle
of their raid last night, how d'ye suppose they're going to keep from
starving to death in here?"

"Ask me something easy, please," retorted the other; "though if I was
in their place I think I could manage to keep alive. There are lots of
ways for doing that, if you only stop to think."

"Sure there are," spoke up Toby, eager to show that he had learned his
lesson fairly well, even though not claiming to be as expert at some
things as were Elmer and Lil Artha. "Now, with some cord and a bait I
reckon rabbits could be trapped or snared. Then gray squirrels are
plenty in here, if only you found a nest of the same in a hollow tree."

"And," added Landy with a yearning vein in his voice, "haven't we seen
whopping big green-back bullfrogs aplenty? If there's one dish I'm
fond of more than any other, that's fried frogs' legs. Yum! yum, don't
I wish we could spare the time to knock over a dozen of those bullies."

"Not while we're on such a duty as we started out to fulfill, Landy,"
Elmer advised the fat scout.

"Then there are fish in these waters, too, fat sunfish as big as any I
ever set eyes on," continued Toby; "and when you're hungry they taste
prime, though I hate the bones, and came near choking to death once on
a sunny. Worse than pickerel, according to my mind, and that's saying
a lot. Oh! I guess a smart fellow with matches to make fires, could
manage to keep the wolf from his door in here all right."

"But all men are not up to one-tenth of the resources known to Boy
Scouts," ventured Elmer, "which is why they generally have to rely on
staving off hunger by raiding the chicken roosts of poor farmers.
That'll be enough for this time. Suppose we get aboard again, and
continue our exploration of Sassafras Swamp."

"It's a sure-enough big patch of mud and water and brush and mystery,"
admitted Mark, as they began to climb into the boats again as before.

"And from what Johnny told me we haven't seen as much as a tenth of the
place yet," Elmer assured them; whereat there were all sorts of
incredulous looks to the right and to the left, as though the magnitude
of their task might by this time be making a stronger impression on the
boys' minds.

A change was made in pushers as they started off once more. It turned
out to be no child's play handling that long, heavy pole which had a
faculty for clinging to the ooze below the surface of the water, and
necessitating more or less exertion in order to drag it loose each time
it was used.

Landy had not taken his turn as yet. It really looked as though Lil
Artha was a little afraid of the fat scout, for he and Mark had
alternated in doing the work. Landy was not complaining at all.
Indeed, Lil Artha felt sure he could see a satisfied grin upon the
rubicund face of the happy-go-lucky, fat scout from time to time as he
heard the one at the pole puffing with the exertion.

Perhaps in the end it would prove to be a case of the "last straw on
the camel's back," and Lil Artha, casting discretion to the winds,
would feel impelled to thrust the push-pole into the inexperienced
hands of Landy Smith. He was evidently putting off the evil hour as
long as he could, fearful of consequences.

So noon came and found them well into the depths of Sassafras Swamp.

They went ashore to eat their lunch, Lil Artha begging that they have a
small fire and make a pot of coffee.

"I c'n pick up aplenty of real dry wood, you know, Elmer," he went on
to say in his wheedling way, "so that there ain't going to be hardly a
whiff of smoke that anybody could see with a field glass. And say,
when you're all tuckered out with pushing a boat through the grass and
lily-pads, nothing makes you feel so fine as a brimming cup of coffee.
So please say yes, Mister Scout Master!"

Of course, Elmer could not resist such a piteous plea as that.

"You could wring tears from a stone, Lil Artha," he told the other,
laughingly, "when you put on a face like that. I reckon we might have
a small cooking fire and a pot of coffee. None of us would object to
it, and sandwiches are dry eating all by themselves, even when you're
hungry. So go ahead; but no chopping, mind; break all the small stuff
you gather over your knee."

Landy eagerly assisted, though Lil Artha kept a watchful eye on what he
gathered lest he mix in green stuff that would make a black smoke when
it burned. Another scout managed to find a stick with a crotch that
would hold the coffee-pot over the blaze until it had boiled.

The scouts were not in the habit of putting up with such apologies for
comfort as these; as a rule, when they camped out they had tents,
blankets, and a little spider contraption that folded up in small
compass, and which served as a gridiron stove, being placed over the
red coals, with cooking utensils resting on the bars.

The coffee was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone, and a vote of thanks
taken for Lil Artha, who had first suggested making it. Resting for a
short time afterwards, the boys felt refreshed when once more the task
was taken up.

Lil Artha looked at Landy tumbling contentedly into the middle of the
old skiff, and seemed on the point of saying something; then he shook
his head and picked up the push-pole himself.

"Not yet, but soon it's just got to be; only I hope he won't upset us
all," Mark heard the tall scout mutter to himself, nor did he need a
further hint to know what was passing through Lil Artha's mind; Landy
was not going to evade his share of the arduous labor forever.

It, doubtless, took considerable thinking and planning on the part of
Elmer to make sure they did not "repeat." So far, none of the boys
could say as they moved along that they had ever before seen the
stretch of water and scrubby shore, covered with trees and vines.

This spoke volumes for the smartness of the young patrol leader, though
somehow his chums did not seem to consider it such a wonderful feat for
Elmer. That is the penalty for being successful; others expect great
things from such a comrade, so that he is constantly put to his best
efforts to satisfy them.

It must have been quite some time, perhaps as much as two hours after
they had stopped to eat their lunch when without warning the swamp
explorers met with a surprise that gave them a new thrill.

At the time, Lil Artha happened to have passed a little in the lead,
though he would soon be dropping back again, especially when there came
a chance to make a mistake in direction, for he wanted Elmer to decide
such puzzles.

The tall scout must have forgotten his warning from Elmer, for he cried
out:

"Hey! everybody look what we're up against! A bear, Elmer, that's what
it is!"




CHAPTER IX

THE PERILS OF THE WATER LABYRINTH

"Silence, everybody!" hissed Elmer, who knew it would be just like
Toby, and perhaps some of the other fellows, to burst into a shout as
soon as they could get command of their voices.

It was certainly a bear, a small one to be sure, but genuine enough,
and not such as can be seen with wandering foreigners, taught to dance,
or wield a pole as a soldier would his musket.

Just when the scouts glimpsed the hairy denizen of Sassafras Swamp, he
was engaged in sitting on his haunches and gathering in the bushes with
his sturdy forelegs. To Lil Artha, it looked as though Bruin might be
making a lunch from the luscious, big blueberries that grew in such
abundance here and there through the swamp.

Up to the moment when Lil Artha thus called attention to the presence
of the black native, the bear must have been in ignorance of their
being so near at hand. When he did notice them, he simply gave a
disgusted grunt, and ambled away through the brush. Lil Artha always
declared the bear glanced back at them as he ran, and even put out his
tongue, just as if he knew it was the close season, and that a kind
game law protected him from all harm.

"Say, let me tell you this old Sassy swamp isn't such a bad place for a
game preserve after all," said Toby; "I think some of us could enjoy
having a week up here, after the law on bears and all such was up. But
it's too far from home during the school session, for us to come."

"Oh! I don't know about that," remarked the tall scout, meditatively;
"we could borrow a car, and start in the middle of the night when there
was a moon. That'd give us a whole day up here. Take it at
Thanksgiving and we could make it three, with Friday and Saturday
thrown in. Elmer, think it over, won't you?"

"Plenty of time for that," he was assured; "We've got our hands full as
it is, without borrowing trouble."

"And perwaps before we're done with it," Ted croaked, "you'll be that
tired of seeing nothing but thwamp all around, that you'll vow never
again for yourth."

"I'm going to make a proposition, Elmer," said Landy; "and I hope
you'll agree. Suppose we go ashore and tackle some of those elegant
blueberries ourselves? It's a shame that bears should be the only ones
to enjoy such a feast. And it's tough sitting here so long!"

At that Lil Artha grunted, and looking almost savagely at the speaker
nodded his head while he muttered:

"That settles it, my boy; I see your finish. You're going to earn your
salt after this, no matter what happens!"

Elmer seemed to consider for a few seconds.

"I see no reason why we shouldn't pull up for a little while, just as
you say, Landy," he observed, to the delight of the rest; "and everyone
of us is fond of a mess of good ripe blueberries. So pitch in while
the supply lasts."

The berries were thicker and larger than any they had ever seen before;
and Lil Artha declared he considered the judgment of the little black
bear "prime."

"He sure knew a good thing when he found it, and so do we," he told
those who were working fingers and jaws near him.

When Elmer concluded that "enough was as good as a feast," they once
more embarked, and the voyage was resumed. There was a new pusher in
the older skiff, however.

"Here, you Landy, suppose you change seats with me," Lil Artha had
remarked as the fat scout started to settle down in the middle of the
boat, just as though he had a mortgage on that prize seat.

Landy looked worried.

"What for, Lil Artha?" he ventured to say, looking at the skipper with
distress plainly marked on his round features; "do you want me to push
the boat now? Not but that I'm willing to do anything I'm asked, you
know; but I didn't think you'd want to take chances on getting wet, and
mebbe losing our packs in the bargain; because I know I'm awful clumsy
about some things."

"Well, in this case we'll have to take the risk," said the other,
grimly; "the only satisfaction we have is that if anybody does get wet
you won't escape. We're all in the same boat, you understand; and we
sink or swim together. Now climb up here, and I'll show you how to
handle a pusher. Time you learned a few more of the tricks a true
scout ought to know."

Landy, apparently, wanted to do his best. He watched how Lil Artha
used the heavy pole and then started to imitate him.

"That's the way, Landy," said Mark, desirous of encouraging the stout
boy in his new duties; "you can do it all right if you only keep on the
watch."

"Course I can," replied the new hand, scornfully; "guess you're all
fooled if you think I never pushed a skiff with a pole before."

"So you were just playing 'possum, were you?" demanded the indignant
Lil Artha, "bent on fooling me so as to evade hard work, eh? I'd be
serving you right, Landy, if I kept you shovin' away the rest of the
afternoon. It'd thin you down a trifle, too, because I think you're
getting too fat for any use. Go slow there, and don't splash so loud
when you drop the pole end in again."

Landy seemed to soon become fairly proficient so that his mentor could
turn his attention to other things of interest they happened to see
around them as they continued their course.

Crows scolded from the treetops as the two boats glided underneath.
This circumstance might probably pass unnoticed by one who knew little
or nothing of woodcraft, but to an Indian it would be a sure sign that
the sharp-eyed birds had discovered some human being, probably an
enemy, and in that way he would be put on his guard against a surprise.

As the man they were looking for did not appear to be educated along
these lines, they need not fear that their presence in the swamp would
be betrayed through any such agency as crows cawing, or flying about in
excitement.

Some time later Toby uttered a low "whew" that caused Chatz, just then
in the act of putting the pole back into the water, to hold it
suspended in midair.

"Elmer, I may be mistaken," said Toby, "but something moved over in the
branches of that tree yonder, and unless my eyes deceived me, which
they seldom do, it was a cat!"

"You mean a wildcat, don't you, Toby?" whispered Landy, for the two
boats were close enough together for the occupants to have shaken
hands, had they wanted to.

"Just what I meant," repeated Toby, firmly. "I can't say that I see
him now, for he's somewhere up in the thickest part of the bushy tree;
but it must have been something more than a 'coon, because I actually
saw the blaze of its eyes!"

"Whew!" gasped Landy, looking as though he wanted to drop the push-pole
on the spur of the moment; "get your gun, Lil Artha, why don't you?
Mean to let a feller be jumped on, and clawed something awful, do you?
I give you my word that if I see a wildcat comin' for me, I'll jump
overboard, and let him tackle the rest of you in the boat, that's what.
Get your gun, Lil Artha; they're vicious you must know, specially when
they've got kits around."

"We haven't lost any cat!" remarked Lil Artha, composedly, as though he
really took a cruel satisfaction in seeing Landy shiver; "and, besides,
I don't more'n half believe the fairy story. Toby's got to show me
before I own up. I reckon some of my people must have come from
Missouri."

"Yes, they raise a heap of mules there, I understand," remarked Toby,
with considerable sarcasm; "but I'm glad to see that Elmer has thought
it worth while to lay hold of his scatter-gun, so as to be ready.
Course we don't want any trouble with any old cat; but there's such a
thing as armed peace. If she jumps for us, I hope Elmer will give her
a load before she lands, that's all. We've got to pass pretty much
under some part of that tree, understand?"

Acting on Elmer's initiative, Lil Artha now also picked up his gun, and
started to keep a sharp watch. As Toby had truly said, they could not
really continue on their way without passing under the wide-stretching
branches of the tree where he claimed to have seen "something that
looked like a wildcat."

"Get busy there, Landy, use your pole, and push us along. Don't stand
there just like you were frozen stiff; we won't let any cat grab you,
make up your mind to it. Get a move on you, I say, Landy Smith."

"Oh! well, might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, I reckon,"
muttered the fat scout as he started to make use of his push-pole.

For the time being, caution was thrown to the winds; all Landy
considered was the rapidity with which he could get past that ominous
tree containing Toby's bobcat.

Perhaps Landy's heart was beating a regular tattoo as he found himself
actually compelled to pass under the tree itself, owing to the
narrowness of the channel at just that part of the runway. Elmer,
watching out of the tail of his eye, could see how pale the other had
become, and he was secretly amused.

It was just like Lil Artha, when their skiff was directly under the
suspected tree, to utter a low gasp, and proceed to elevate his gun in
a hurry, as though sighting the quarry.

Poor Landy came very near having a fit; he dropped the pole overboard
and fell backwards in the boat, which came near swamping. Toby, in the
other craft, succeeded in rescuing the floating pole before it had gone
completely beyond reach.

"Guess I was mistaken that time!" said Lil Artha, without cracking a
smile, although no doubt he must have been secretly chuckling at the
way the handler of the push-pole had shown alacrity in getting out of
range.

So Landy, with a sheepish grin, managed to get on his feet again, and
take the rescued pole from Toby's hands. He gave the tall scout a
sharp look as though suspecting that it had been a trick intended to
play upon his nerves. But then Landy was always a good-natured fellow,
and never bore anyone ill-will, no matter what the joke might be of
which he became the victim.

Toby could not be persuaded that he had not glimpsed a wildcat in that
tree under which they passed. He kept staring back as long as it was
possible to catch a view of its leafy branches.

"Well, say what you like," he concluded, "I did see _something_ whisk
out of sight up there; yes, and it had starey eyes in the bargain. If
it was a 'coon, then all I can say is they breed queer 'coons up in
this old Sassafras Swamp country. There now, that's about enough from
me."

"The afternoon is nearly half gone, and we haven't scared up our quarry
yet," advised Mark later on.

"Plenty of time, for there's another day coming," said Elmer. "We're
here to comb the swamp through from end to end but what we'll find
nobody knows. Keep listening, too. It might be possible we'd hear a
shout that would give us a clue."

"Say now, I hadn't thought of that before," admitted Toby. "If Hen
_is_ being treated harsh-like by that unknown who's got hold of him,
mebbe he might let out a yawp once in a while. There's no harm done in
listening, I reckon, and Landy here could tell if it was him giving
tongue."

Now and then some sound did come to their ears, but of an entirely
different character from the one they were hoping to catch. A
granddaddy bullfrog on some mossy log sent out loud and deep-toned
demands for "more rum! more rum!" Then a saucy bluejay started in to
scold the fellows in the boats for daring to trespass in its preserves,
and how the angry bird did lay it on until they were well beyond reach
of its chatter.

Once a far-away grumble floated faintly to their ears, at which there
was an immediate comparing of opinions. Some seemed to incline to the
belief that it must be distant thunder, and that they were bound to
soon be caught in a storm, which had been creeping unnoticed up on
them, the dense foliage by which they were surrounded preventing them
from learning the fact sooner.

"If you asked me what it was," said Elmer, when he found that the
others were not able to agree, "I'd be inclined to say we're not more
than half a mile away from one side of the swamp, and that there's a
farm lying yonder on which they keep a bull. I imagine it was his
lowing we heard just then."

"Bully, say I, not meaning to be funny either," remarked Landy; "for
I'd a heap sooner believe it was a bovine trying out his bazoo than a
thunder-storm heading this way. It's bad enough to be in constant
danger of getting ducked by falling overboard, without taking chances
overhead in the bargain."

As they did not hear any repetition of the suspicious sound the scouts
finally determined that Elmer had guessed right, and that there must be
a stock farm not a great distance away from the border of the swamp.

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