(1) Apologue: Conquered


They came to her shores uninvited. They cleared her fields of native grass and planted the trees they wanted to see. They shaped her into their image, calculated and controlled. All her creatures were categorised and placed into their ‘proper’ role.

There were the hoofed creatures, the belly crawlers, the ocean creatures, the insects and the birds. The hoofed creatures were put to work, the belly crawlers and the ocean creatures were hunted for food, and the insects were crushed and used as medicine. Us birds were mostly left alone. We only had to look pretty and sing. To them we were entertainment, beautiful things to enjoy.

This was their world now, so we had to sing their songs. Our tongues were twisted and mouths reshaped to make the tunes their ears liked. If we did it wrong we were deemed lesser, unlearned, ‘onbeschaafd’, or just plain wrong.

Unpleasant birds are not kept, they are kicked out of the garden or worse, stoned to death. The pretty, desirable birds were kept in cages. No longer allowed to fly free, now forever caged for the amusement of the foreigners.

So we learned to keep quiet. Soon the land fell still, only a few birds occasionally sang the foreigners song, those already in cages. They were the few that knew how to land the accent right. - This is how we all lived for many years. Hoofed at work, crawlers and fish dwindling away, buzzing bugs swatted without a care, birds in cages, and not a single local song was heard.

Even I was captured, and kept as a pet. But finally one day one bird had enough, so she broke out of her enclosure, and flew to the top of the highest mountain in the land, where no stone could reach her. There she belted out a medley composed out of a selection of both foreign and local songs. She weaved the two together, making mistakes and funny rhymes. It was a new sound, one that all could find themselves in. It was a song of compromise and freedom.

Many stones were thrown, but they could not knock her down. They were forced to listen. Her song spread over the country, bringing hope to those stuck in roles they did not choose, and a new perspective to those trapped in boxes they created.

(2) Climbing a Mountain

A mountain is a seductive creature. It lures you in with the glory of its summit. It ensnares you, daring you with its impossible cliffs. It tells you that you will not know the world until you have seen it from its point of view. And for this it is completely true.

A mountain is a roadway to metamorphous. The one who starts the climb is not the one that will finish it. On top you are new. You will see more. You will have done more. Now let us hope you can carry it with you back down.