Читать книгу The Story Giant - Brian Patten - Страница 6

‘ONCE UPON A TIME,’ SAID THE GIANT, ‘A YOUNG EXPLORER found himself the guest of an ancient tribe in a remote area of Central Africa. Each night when the tribe gathered to eat and drink and tell stories the explorer joined them. No one from the outside world had recorded the tribe’s stories, which stretched back to the most primitive of times, and the young explorer felt himself to be in a unique position.

‘After exchanging greetings and sharing food, the village elder, a man of about seventy, began telling one of the tribe’s favourite stories. It was one of the oldest tales known to the tribe, and concerned a lion that whispered advice into a man’s ear.

‘The explorer recorded this and many other stories. He was very pleased with himself, and when he returned home he boasted over and over again about the wonderful stories he had discovered. Among the people he boasted to was an older explorer, who asked him, “What was your favourite story?”

‘The young explorer replied that his favourite had been a story about a lion whispering advice into a man’s ear. “The story is unique,” he said. “No other explorer has recorded the tribe’s stories.”

“‘I too have just come back from a long journey,” said the older man. He described how he had spent his time wrapped in furs, shivering on the edge of a bleak, icy desert a world away from the humid, life-buzzing jungle of his young colleague. He explained that he too had come back with a collection of stories that the tribe he’d visited considered unique to its own culture.

‘“And which one was your favourite?” asked the younger explorer.

“‘It was a story about a lion whispering advice into a man’s ear,” said the older man.’

‘One of the tribes must have got the story from somewhere else,’ said Hasan.

‘But how?’ asked the Giant. ‘Neither of the tribes had ever travelled. They were separated by thousands and thousands of miles, by mountains and oceans and deserts. Both countries were land-locked, and both said their story was old even before the invention of boats, let alone more modern forms of transport.’

‘Then how did they know the same story?’ persisted Hasan.

‘I believe the story was old before either tribe existed,’ said the Giant, ‘and that the explorers had simply been talking to different branches of the same tribe.’

‘Which is?’

‘Humankind.’

‘Neat,’ said Betts. She had been standing in a corner, propped up against a bookcase, listening with one ear while flicking through a book. ‘Is that the point of your story, then?’ she asked. ‘That we are all different branches of the same tribe?’

‘I don’t think there’s ever just one point or meaning to any story,’ said the Giant. ‘Just as there is no right way or wrong way to interpret them.’

Hasan felt irritated with Betts for interrupting what he thought was his own private conversation with the Giant: after all, he had been in the library first. ‘I’ve got a story as well,’ he said.

‘Then by all means tell it,’ said the Giant.

Hasan hesitated. ‘But what if it’s not the one you are looking for? Will I be sent away from here?

‘Of course not,’ said the Giant.

Still Hasan hesitated. He enjoyed being the centre of attention, but was uncomfortable in such an informal atmosphere among a group of strangers. He was the son of a strict and powerful man, used to doing exactly what was expected of him, and what was expected of him was being in bed asleep, not sharing other people’s dreams. He suddenly noticed he wasn’t even wearing his pyjamas any longer, but was in his day clothes. It was all rather muddling. He was afraid of being rejected by these people, even if they were only dream people. For a year now he had lived with this fear of rejection, of being spurned and left alone. Ever since … but he could not bear to think about the tragedy that had befallen him. He knew he would burst out crying if he did. And showing his emotions was another thing Hasan found difficult.

‘But if I did have to leave here, what would happen?’ he persisted.

‘You would simply wake up in your own bed and remember us all only as the dream we are,’ said the Giant. ‘No harm would come to you.’

This reassured Hasan. ‘I’m only telling my story because it’s funny,’ he said, feeling he was regaining control of his strange situation. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

And so he told his story.