Lou-Anne and the Muddy Lake Swim

The lake beside Omi and Opi’s house looked rather different from the sparkling blue water Lou-Anne had imagined.

It was brown.

Not golden-brown like honey. Not warm brown like Marmalade’s stripes. It was thick, cloudy, muddy brown, and long ribbons of green lake grass waved beneath the surface wherever the water was shallow.

Lou-Anne stood at the end of the little wooden jetty and stared down.

“Are we really swimming in that?”

Opi adjusted his sun hat. “We certainly are.”

Lou-Anne pointed at the water. “But I can’t see the bottom.”

“That is because the bottom has thoughtfully mixed itself into the rest of the lake,” said Omi.

Marmalade sat well back from the edge, looking disgusted by the entire concept. He liked water in bowls, preferably placed exactly where he expected it. Lakes were uncontrolled, suspicious and far too large.

M’Pofo walked into the shallows and stirred up an enormous brown cloud around his feet.

“It’s lovely and cool,” he said.

Ubejane stepped in beside him and sank into the mud almost to his ankles.

He paused.

“This,” he announced, “is excellent.”

Lou-Anne laughed. “You only like it because it’s muddy.”

“That is a perfectly good reason.”

Kiera hopped carefully along the shore. “The grass feels funny around my legs.”

“Stay where it’s shallow until you’re used to it,” Omi reminded her. “And nobody swims alone.”

Vakawu swung down from a willow branch and landed on the jetty wearing a pair of enormous homemade goggles.

“Prepare yourselves,” he declared. “You are about to witness the greatest swimmer in the Savannah.”

Opi looked at the goggles. “Those appear to be two jam-jar lids tied together with string.”

“They are precision equipment.”

“They don’t have glass in them.”

“That improves ventilation.”

Before anyone entered the water, Omi went through the rules.

They would stay between the jetty and the red buoy Opi had placed farther out. They would avoid the thickest patches of lake grass. Nobody would dive head-first because the bottom was soft, uneven and impossible to see. If anyone felt grass wrapping around their legs, they must stop kicking, stay calm and gently move backwards.

“And if you get tired?” Omi asked.

“Come back to the shallows,” Lou-Anne answered.

“If you feel frightened?”

“Call for help.”

“And after swimming?”

“Wash off the lake mud.”

Marmalade gave a short meow.

“Yes,” said Omi. “Even if you are a cat who claims not to have gone swimming.”

Lou-Anne changed into her swimming costume and stepped cautiously down the little ladder.

The first touch of water around her ankles was cool and pleasant. The mud beneath her feet was soft, squeezing between her toes.

She took another step.

Squish.

Another.

Squelch.

“This feels strange,” she said.

“Good strange or bad strange?” asked Omi.

Lou-Anne wiggled her toes beneath the mud.

“Good strange.”

Kiera entered from the bank, lifting her feet much higher than necessary with every step.

“It’s trying to keep my paws!”

“The lake does not want your paws,” said Ubejane, who was now lying happily in the shallows with mud coating half his body. “It merely appreciates them.”

M’Pofo filled his trunk with water and sprayed a sparkling arc over his back.

Unfortunately, Vakawu was standing directly behind him.

The monkey received the entire shower.

He froze, dripping from his ears and nose.

M’Pofo turned around. “Sorry.”

Vakawu slowly removed his useless goggles. “I have been attacked by weather.”

Once Lou-Anne reached water deep enough to swim, she pushed away from the bottom and began paddling beside Omi.

The brown water felt smooth and warm near the surface, cooler beneath. Every stroke made little swirls of mud and flashes of green grass below.

M’Pofo swam nearby with only his head and trunk above the water. Ubejane preferred walking along the bottom, occasionally disappearing deeper than expected and returning with water pouring from his ears.

Kiera discovered that her strong legs made her an excellent swimmer, though each kick sent such a splash behind her that everyone kept a respectful distance.

Vakawu climbed onto M’Pofo’s back and announced that he had become captain of an elephant boat.

“You are a passenger,” said M’Pofo.

“I am steering.”

“With what?”

Vakawu pointed dramatically ahead.

M’Pofo turned in the opposite direction.

Marmalade remained on the jetty, supervising.

Then a dragonfly landed on a post near him.

Marmalade crouched.

His tail twitched.

He crept forward, one soft paw at a time, completely forgetting that the post stood beside a lake.

The dragonfly lifted into the air.

Marmalade leapt.

The dragonfly flew away.

Marmalade did not.

Splash!

Everyone turned.

For one startled moment, only the tip of an orange tail showed above the muddy water. Then Marmalade burst back to the surface with enormous eyes and fur plastered flat against his body.

Lou-Anne swam towards him at once.

“I’ve got you.”

She slipped one arm beneath his chest and carried him to the ladder. Marmalade clung to her shoulder with all four paws while maintaining the expression of someone betrayed by gravity itself.

Opi wrapped him in a towel.

“You went swimming after all,” he said.

Marmalade glared at the dragonfly, which had returned to the same post. Some creatures, clearly, had no sense of shame.

Farther along the shore, Nuru and Buhala had discovered a maze of channels between the lake grass. They paddled through them like tiny boats, calling directions to one another.

“Left!”

“No, the other left!”

“That’s your tail!”

Suddenly Buhala stopped.

“Something touched me!”

Nuru froze beside him.

The grass moved.

A dark shape slid beneath the surface.

Kiera scrambled towards the shore. Vakawu climbed straight onto M’Pofo’s head. Even Ubejane stood up.

Lou-Anne watched the moving patch of grass.

Then a small round face appeared between the green leaves.

A terrapin blinked at them.

It had a piece of lake grass resting on its head like a tiny hat.

“Oh,” said Lou-Anne. “Hello.”

The terrapin stared for a moment, took one quiet breath and disappeared beneath the water again.

Vakawu climbed down from M’Pofo’s head.

“I knew it was harmless.”

“You climbed into my ear,” said M’Pofo.

“I was seeking a better observation point.”

After that, they explored the shallows more carefully.

Lou-Anne found tiny freshwater snails clinging to the grass. Kiera spotted silver fish flashing between the stems. Omi showed them how the lake grass provided shelter for young fish, insects and other small creatures.

“It may feel tickly to us,” Omi said, “but it is someone else’s home.”

Lou-Anne floated on her back and looked up at the wide summer sky.

The lake water held her gently. Around her, she could hear M’Pofo splashing, Kiera laughing and Ubejane insisting that mud was beneficial to the skin.

Perhaps he was right. He certainly looked pleased with himself.

Then Lou-Anne felt something brush across her ankle.

A long strand of grass had looped lightly around her leg.

For one second, her heart jumped.

Then she remembered Omi’s instructions.

She stopped kicking.

She took a slow breath.

Instead of pulling forward, she moved gently backwards and freed her foot.

“There,” said Omi, who had been watching nearby. “Perfect.”

Lou-Anne smiled with relief. “It was only grass.”

“Yes. But staying calm helped you find that out.”

By late afternoon, everyone was thoroughly muddy.

Lou-Anne had brown streaks across her arms and face. Kiera’s pale tummy was covered in splashes. Vakawu looked as though he had been dipped in chocolate. Ubejane was almost impossible to distinguish from a very contented boulder.

M’Pofo carried Lou-Anne back towards the jetty on his shoulders. Marmalade watched from inside three towels, his fur gradually returning to its usual shape.

Omi had set out cold drinks, fruit and sandwiches beneath a parasol. Opi had connected a hose so everyone could rinse off before eating.

Ubejane objected.

“The mud is part of the experience.”

“The mud is not coming into the house,” said Omi.

Ubejane submitted to the hose with the dignity of a rhino enduring an unreasonable government regulation.

Marmalade was cleaned with a warm damp cloth. He complained throughout, despite being the one who had launched himself into the lake while pursuing an insect.

As evening settled over the water, the muddy brown surface became smooth and golden beneath the sinking sun. The lake grass waved quietly in the shallows, and the terrapin appeared once more near the reeds.

Lou-Anne sat beside Omi with her feet dangling from the jetty.

“At first, I thought the water looked horrible,” she admitted.

“And now?” Omi asked.

Lou-Anne watched a fish make little rings across the surface.

“Now I think it’s interesting. You can’t see everything, but there’s so much living underneath.”

Omi put an arm around her shoulders. “Some places aren’t beautiful because they are clean and clear. They are beautiful because they are full of life.”

Behind them, M’Pofo and Kiera were sharing slices of watermelon. Ubejane had somehow found another patch of mud. Vakawu was retelling the story of the terrifying terrapin, with several invented details involving enormous teeth.

Marmalade sat safely in Lou-Anne’s towel, glaring at the lake from a reasonable distance.

Lou-Anne scratched gently behind his ears.

“You were very brave.”

Marmalade purred, accepting this corrected version of events.

And as the sun slipped behind the hills, the friends decided that a muddy lake could be every bit as adventurous as clear blue water.

Perhaps more so.

Clear water, after all, rarely tries to steal your shoes.