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Savannah

© Vyvyan Lynn

The visitor watches a native sitting serenely on a park bench. The native slowly whispers, "Sa van nuh" into the wind and allows this word to gently roll, heavily accented, through humid air that circulates among towering old oaks dripping in Spanish moss. "Sa van nuh," lighting briefly in the sweet blossoms of azalea and magnolia, lilting ever so gently in the salty air that touched Native Americans, Fernando DeSoto, General James Oglethorpe, war and peace, growth and preservation. Savannah. It is evident in the glazed look of the visitor that the spirit of "Sa van nuh" is settling all around and he has little power over her charms, now hopelessly enamored, enchanted, in love with this fair yet somewhat eccentric old city.

Let's take a walk, shall we, just over and back to the year 1540. You will stroll with a princess from the Indian village, Cofitachequi. It is a beautiful day along the banks of the great river with twists and turns and trees hovering just so on waters edge, their roots washed clear of soil, stand vulnerable. There is a strange noise up ahead.

De Soto along with an army of six hundred including horsemen, foot soldiers, priests, and Indian guides, labor through a thick pine forest where they'd roamed futilely for days. With blistered feet and growling bellies, they come upon a clearing along the Savannah River. Shouts of joy echo throughout the river valley piercing the air, piercing a way of life.

Across the stream, the weary travelers behold an Indian village, the imponderable Cofitachequi. The May sun sparkles pleasantly on the face of the water, refreshing the spirits of DeSoto and his men. They stand for awhile soaking in the undisturbed sounds of life: the cry of a baby, a mother calling out to an older child.

On the banks of the Savannah River, DeSoto is confident he has found the answer to the question burning a hole in his soul, a question that landed his men on a Florida beach a season ago. He led them on a slow march through thick woods inhabited by hate filled Indians waiting to ambush. It had been a dastardly trip. And now, at last De Soto comes upon a people he feels will surely know the answer to the question he lusts for: "Where is the gold?"

A century later, General James Oglethorpe and at least one hundred men, women and children quickly put up tents as darkness settled around them. In the sojourners' first night in what they had envisioned, back under England's thumb as Utopia, they sleep on the earth of Yamacraw Bluff just above the Savannah River. The colony, later named after the river, Savannah, was the fruition of dreamers wishing for a life away from the utilitarian way of the British.

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