A drolly refashioned creation myth finds both God and Man short on inspiration, and the newly created Woman unconvinced
The Calabash
Having fashioned the first man out of sticks and mud,
God looked at him and thought, ‘Not bad.’ But Man
was of a different opinion.
Equipped from the outset with the twin gifts
of speech and dissatisfaction, Man said,
‘God, be honest, are you really happy
with this bodge, this shoddy bricolage,
this job at best half done?’ ‘What do you mean?’
God asked. ‘I need a mate,’ Man told him,
‘and I need one fast.’ God was flustered;
he’d run out of ideas already; so he replied,
‘If you’re so certain what you want,
tell me how to make it.’ Glancing about,
Man’s eye fell on a plump gourd hanging from a tree:
a calabash. ‘That will do,’ he said.
God nodded and set to work, adding
legs, arms and a head to the lovely roundness,
with other details that would make Woman a match
for the stick-and-mud figure who stood by, watching.
When he had finished, God rubbed his hands, delighted.
But Man was less sure, remembering the pure shape
that had first caught his fancy: both virginal and gravid,
suspended improbably from that scruffy tree.
‘Take it or leave it,’ God said. Man remained
undecided, and Woman, too, had her proliferating doubts.
