Dw, I packed my emergency seagulls 👍🏻
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Hello lovers of lore! What have you read this month? What's a story someone told you that stayed with you? Since I graduated from my degree in composition in 2022, one conversation with a classmate has been in my mind. We were talking about a subject called Improvisation, taught by an elderly composer who was respected in the avant garde music scene in Melbourne. He was a great teacher--he loved experimental music and music from other cultures, and had a very open mind. But most of what he taught us involved playing and analysing strange music. One video he showed us was of a woman who sang raspberries in front of pieces of foil on wine glasses. This was an hour-long performance, live on YouTube during lockdown (we didn't watch it live). And my classmate--who had done this subject the year before--said that this was the video that broke his class. Someone started laughing at it, and soon everyone was. 'How did the teacher react?' I asked, horrified. We'd watched many similar performances (including a catalogued list of extended vocal techniques) and managed to keep our reactions to a few discreetly confused glances. 'He loved it,' my friend laughed. 'He was just so happy that we were engaging with the music.' That response pops into my mind so often now, when I'm writing, and when I'm teaching. Laughter can mean yes you achieved comedy or, that emotion didn't land as intended. Or, you stand out in an amusing way. Whatever it means, it's engagement. Feedback. When I read and then wrote out the following story for you, I thought it was a hilarious story. It was only later that I started to overthinking it and wondered if I'd missed something. Who is the god it talks about? Why is he portrayed this way? What might I have missed that might make it not funny? I started wondering if it was really meant to be funny. This is the limitation of the Campfire: these aren't my stories, so any hidden details or assumed knowledge will be missed. I did some research and learned about the god and language group it comes from. Nothing explained this particular story. The only clues I had were in the turns of phrase used in the book, and my own faith in the consistency of humanity. Different cultures can have different senses of humour, but generally we can all figure out when something is at least meant to be funny. Besides, laughter is engagement. And for most storytellers, a reaction is a win, even if it's not necessarily the intended one. Okay. Enough overthinking! 😂 Today's story is Michabo Defeats the King of the Fishes. (Why isn't it Fish? Isn't Fish the plural of Fish? This is the first of many questions you may have throughout this story.) I can answer one for you: Michabo is traditionally pronounced Mi-Shah-Boze. He's the Creator God of the Algonquian-speaking people native to Canada. He's often depicted as a great hare, although he can shape-shift. One fine morning, he decided to take his canoe on the lake to fish. As he threw his line into the lake, he called out, 'Meshenahmahgwai, King of the Fish, take hold of my bait! You can't escape me forever!' The Fish King sat at the bottom of the lake and ignored him. But after an hour of constant shouting and taunting, he grew sick of it. A trout swam past, and the King ordered it to go up and take the bait. The trout, faithful soldier that it was, did as it was told. Michabo's boat rocked, his arms heaving and he fought to pull the enormous fish into the boat. But when his catch was finally lifted, he realised it wasn't the fish he'd wanted. 'What are you doing here?' he shouted. 'Shame! Shame!' The trout let go of the bait and jumped back into the water. With some more indignant spluttering, Michabo began to taunt the Fish King again. 'Meshenahmahgwai, you can't stay away forever!' The Fish King rolled his eyes, and told a sunfish to take the bait instead. Once more, Michabo's boat began to rock and he laughed gleefully as he pulled on the line. The weight of the fish turned his canoe in circles, round and round, until finally, the sunfish emerged. When he saw the trick, his face turned red. 'Meshenahmahgwai!' he shouted, 'I'm at the end of my patience. Do what I told you to do--take the end of my bait!' He wasn't the only one running out of patience. The Fish King, completely fed up at this intrusion of his peace and quiet, finally took hold of the bait. The rope pulled him up, gliding higher and higher, and as he neared the boat, he opened his enormous mouth. Emerging from the water, he swallowed Michabo, his fishing line and his canoe, all in one gulp. Michabo looked around the sudden darkness, wondering why the sun had gone out. As the world rocked and the smell hit him, he realised what had happened. His war club sat beside him in the canoe, so he took it up and smashed it against the stomach wall, whenever he could feel it through the darkness. Again and again he hit the Fish King's stomach. The walls of the stomach began to heave and turn. The King was retching, and just before he threw up, Michabo stopped hitting. He couldn't swim, he remembered. If the King vomited, he would be thrown into the bottom of the lake to drown. With one giant heave, Michabo was thrown upwards. He pulled the canoe with him, and managed to wedge it in the throat of the Fish King. The King choked on it and, between the pain, the boat lodged in his throat, and his internal bleeding, the King died. His body calmed and cooled. The retching ceased, and the body began to lift. The once-majestic fish was now lifelessly bobbing on the surface of the lake. Looking around the darkness, Michabo realised he was now very stuck. He sat down in the darkness, feeling hopeless. At least if he'd been vomited out, he might have been able to somehow make it to the surface and survive. As it was, there was no way out of the fish, and he would have to resign himself to his fate. A light tapping noise erupted from above Michabo. He looked up, wondering what it was, as it grew louder and closer. Soon it was all around him. Light began to filter in through a hole in the King's skin, and through the hole, Michabo could make out the heads of birds. Seagulls. ("Mine.") Michabo jumped up and called, 'I'm here! Open the hole larger so that I can get out!' The gulls had been scavenging, and hadn't expected to find anyone inside the Fish King's body, much less Michabo. But they obeyed, until Michabo once more felt the sunshine on his face and looked around, smiling broadly at the birds. 'I was foolish,' he said, 'But you have still shown me a great kindness. From now on, you will never be called a scavenger, but you shall be called Noble Scratchers, and have my special blessing.' When Michabo had made it safely back to the shore, he breathed life back into the King of the Fishes and restored his broken body. The King went back down to the depths of his watery palace to his peace, and was never disturbed again. What do you think? Do you like characters like Michabo, who don't know how to get out of messes they got themselves into, or do you prefer characters who have plans and know what they're doing? Do you think it was funny? As always, I'd love to hear from you! Have a wonderful July! (Stay warm/cool. Pick whichever fits your current season.) <3 Debbie P.S. have you ever written something that wasn't meant to be funny, but someone thought it was? I have. 😂
Similar stories from the archives: why did I just go to capitalise archives because the company in my book is ARCHIVE I need a holiday
Michabo Defeats the King of the Fishes was retold from Wells, N. et al. (2021). Gods & Monsters Myths and Tales. London: Flame Tree Publishing. (p116) Other resources used:
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