OUT OF THE BLUE

A true story for 5 to 105-year olds, to take us away from the ex­haust­ing human race for a vital mo­ment.

Once upon a time there was a very sad fruit.

It was a very pretty and un­usual fruit in the shape of a large round bal­loon with the neck of bot­tle, and it was called Gourd.

Gourd was un­happy be­cause when he was grow­ing on a plant he hoped he would be­come a bot­tle and al­ways be use­ful. Peo­ple would take fruits just like him and dry them and use them to carry water. This did hap­pen to Gourd. He was dried in the sun and was used to carry water. But too soon he was not wanted any­more, and he was thrown away on a rub­bish tip. I will not be any­thing now, he thought. I will never be use­ful again.

Then, one day, some­one saw Gourd on the rub­bish tip and took him to a farm in the Pri­o­rat moun­tains, called Mother’s Gar­den. I am going to be a bot­tle again, Gourd thought. But the per­son who picked him up had an­other idea. This per­son was vis­it­ing and help­ing on the farm and he wanted to use Gourd to make music. Oh, said Gourd, so happy. I am going to be part of a mu­si­cal in­stru­ment, an African Kora, which is like a gui­tar!

He thought he was going to carry water but now he would carry music in­stead, which was even bet­ter. How dif­fer­ent and won­der­ful, he thought. An open­ing was cut in one side of Gourd, like on a gui­tar, and out of it music, not water, would flow.

Every day the work went on. But, sud­denly, be­fore the Kora could be fin­ished, the per­son had to leave and Gourd was left in the cor­ner of the farm barn. More and more things were put in that cor­ner until Gourd could not be seen at all. Four long years passed. Gourd was full of dust and very sad. I will never be use­ful again, he thought. Then the barn was cleared by an­other vis­i­tor help­ing on the farm, not a mu­si­cian this time but an artist. He picked up Gourd, looked at his big round shape with the hole in the side and smiled. “I know what to do with you”, he said, and went to look for some blue paint.

Gourd won­dered what he would be. He was washed and then, in just one day, he was painted to look like a beau­ti­ful blue whale with two more lit­tle holes for eyes. He liked this, but still did not know if he would be use­ful. He wanted so much to be use­ful. What use is it being a blue whale?

The next day he found out. He was taken and fixed high on the wall in a lit­tle room with no door. It was an out­side show­room near the woods and he would be the light shade, look­ing like a beau­ti­ful blue whale and shin­ing up­wards. He was so happy. I thought I would carry water, he said to him­self. I thought I would carry music, now I know I will carry light.

For a few weeks this hap­pened. But then it stopped. The light never came on. And Gourd found out once and for all that he was never meant to carry water, or music, or light.

That spring, two beau­ti­ful lit­tle birds, called blue tits, saw Gourd the blue whale and knew im­me­di­ately he was the per­fect place to build their nest. And that is what they did every year – the blue birds lay­ing their eggs and rais­ing their chicks in the blue whale.

Gourd now knew, at long last, how use­ful he could be. He wasn’t meant to carry water. He wasn’t meant to carry music. He wasn’t meant to carry light. He was meant to carry life.