Gaia (Adoa Coelho)

Persistence gives generally its fruits.


Full of life and attentive this time, instead of going out to play with her mates,…

When the little girl went for her book on the shelter, she already knew the purpose of it. She stretched so much until she finally got it. She went along the street and stopping in a shadow of a big wall, sited on the floor to read. Calmly crossed the small legs and putted her hair behind the ears, clearing the face. Sighted and got started…

It was a strange book.

It started with a big wall, something like the one she had behind her. Though it was just a cold grey thing, it wasn’t really only that… it had life!

Stone by stone, it was raised by sorrow, tears, lies, too much work, no time for anything, forgotten words and gestures, looking away when a being needed to be looked in the eyes and be hugged…

Stone by stone, this wall has grown bigger so the person inside would protect herself from the persons that were hurting her.

As the wall in the book reached the sky, slowly the one behind our little girl was being dismantled while the name of every sorrow was named… Each and every one of the stones was now giving place to light, becoming each rock first lighter and then more and more transparent; the rocks at their own time became bright light!

Falling in her back because no wall existed anymore to support her rear, the girl was grabbed by two protective and friendly hands. Her eyes followed these hands to the arms, continuing to a neck, to a face and its eyes… The light was all in there!

-There you are! - She said. - I had a feeling that you were around here. Come! Let me hug you. Don’t hide anymore, please.

Stone by stone, grey plus grey, heartache plus heartache, the person inside became the wall – cold and distant- It is funny though, how simple it is for these fortifications to fall apart if you just reach it inside its heart…

- Why does he cry mum?

As soon as his eyes opened he smiled!

Everyone got astonished and couldn’t help but to smile too, endlessly. What a beautiful and contagious smile! Unlike every other newborn, this one didn’t cry but smiled and all the room was suddenly filled with this warmth… Though, it didn’t take long until he did cry. And he cried as if someone was hurting him. He cried as if he had some problem… They found nothing… Only that the formally lighter day had grown darker.

He cried so much that all doctors and nurses came to see what was going on. Every one hugged him, fed him and sang to him. There was no use. He wouldn’t stop.

…

After some weeks, they were all desperate. Science couldn’t explain what was going on. There was something of terribly wrong with that infant, but what?

His hair grew strong and fast. It looked kind of grey as if it was in such a hurry to grow that it simply forgot the color behind. Furthermore, he started to control his crying but never the tears that continually flowed. He never could.

…

As he went to school, all the other kids were very curious:

-Why is he always crying mum? - No answer was given…

Without small ears hearing it, parents talked between themselves about the news… They remembered this story of a little boy that wouldn’t stop crying… Was he the one? Nothing on him was denouncing of something any different of any other kid that same age, except for the tears. Oh yes, the hair was a bit strange too!

All the other kids, perhaps moved out of curiosity or some kind of magnetism, wanted to play with him.

…

Years gone by, still the hair reflected the colors for it no color had. Still it floated as if it were alive. People passing by him would stop and take their time just to stare, forgetting everything else. The school friends would always draw him in the drawing classes… -He is so colorful! - They used to say! - More than flowers or butterflies themselves, he was like a personification of color. Everyone couldn’t even stop smiling while at his side. Dogs and cats would follow him all around!

…

One day, after flying so close to him that it pulled the boy’s hair, a small bird, due to not much experience having in flying, went against a wall. Poor bird got very dizzy and fell to the floor. Running to help it, our hero gently grabbed it and gave his own tears to drink. With the smallest jump it recovered its breath, and looked into the boy’s grays eyes. - Thank you – Thought the boy he heard – He just smiled and let it go.

…

One day a colleague noted something was quite different. Trying to find out why he looked around. In the classroom others had the same impression. Why was everyone smiling? The boy had no more tears falling down his face… One of them started to laugh. Like a domino, one-by-one joined it. In the following classrooms the sound of laughter made them also adhered!

The next day in the news – The last of the wars still existing has finally ended yesterday – Said the reporter also laughing! He couldn’t say why exactly because each person there with him was laughing out loud too!

…

An astronaut in a mission, suddenly call for his companions:

- Come, come!

- Why are you…?

- Laughing? Check out our Planet Earth…

It was involved in the most wonderful Rainbow colors they’ve ever seen!

Then, even the last cynical man alive laughed!

…

Perhaps, one day grownups will understand why little boys cry…

Em tempos muito idos, ainda os girassóis eram pequenas margaridas quando um deles pensou muito a sério na sua condição. Ele, de tão pequeno que era, enfrentava problemas para agarrar um raio de Sol que o aquecesse e passava as horas de dia claro completamente frenético atrás duma pontinha de luz.

Pequenino e sozinho, sentia que havia de fazer alguma coisa.
Começou por pedir ajuda às flores vizinhas, as margaridas – Por favor, dão-me uma ajuda? – Estas diziam – Também somos pequeninas! Temos dificuldades para apanhar um bocadinho de Sol como tu.
- E se nos juntarmos? Talvez assim consigamos mudar alguma coisa!
- Não podemos, somos pequeninas. Não temos força suficiente, somos pequeninas!

Depois virava-se para os arbustos – Por favor! Podiam ajudar-me a apanhar um raio de Sol?
- Estamos muito ocupados, temos muitos problemas! Volte mais tarde.
Frustrado, virava-se para as árvores que o mantinham na sombra das suas muitas folhas – Senhoras árvores, por favor. Podiam dizer às vossas filhas que se organizem para que possamos também receber um pouco de luz directa? - Mas as árvores nem o ouviam. Não é que o fizessem de propósito, pelo menos não todas, as árvores tinham os ouvidos bem lá no alto, o que dificultava um bocadinho e as limitava nas amizades. Digamos que neste mundo – à semelhança de alguns outros por analogia...– a altura era estatuto.

As flores tinham de contentar-se com o que acidentalmente conseguiam.
Esta flor, no entanto, não estava contente com a sorte que lhe calhara. Todos os dias falava com os vizinhos pedindo ajuda e nada.
Pensou e pensou, queria mudar de vida – Se ninguém me ajuda, vou eu ajudar-me! Deve haver alguma coisa que poderei fazer. – À falta de melhor ideia, pensou que poderia tentar esticar-se o mais que pudesse. Fez isso durante um dia – Não me parece que esteja a resultar...

As flores ao lado notaram os esforços e comentavam entre si. Com olhares e risos jocosos entretiveram-se nos dias, semanas, meses seguintes. Os arbustos não se dignaram olhar, as árvores, essas... nem repararam – têm os olhos bem lá no alto, perto das orelhas...

O girassol não se importou, sabia que era possível o plano falhar, mas estava disposto a dar o seu melhor – Sempre me ocupo a fazer algo em vez de apenas me queixar – pensava de si para si.

Chegou um dia em que os arbustos inventaram outra queixa, havia uma nova sombra – Que é isto? Já não bastam as árvores? – Mais um problema para os consumir entre a água que ora insuficiente, ora sem qualidade; ora a terra pouca para tantas plantas, ora com demasiado sulfato; ora dias muito curtos, ora demasiado longos; ora, ora, ora...

Agora o murmurinho era outro. O girassol crescera tanto que ficara maior que muitos arbustos. Os girassóis mais pequenos queriam saber como ele conseguira aquele feito. As flores diziam – Oh! Somos tão pequeninas e fraquinhas... Nunca iríamos conseguir crescer tanto, somos tão fraquinhas... E pequeninas...

O girassol gigante explicou a todos quantos quiseram saber como o fizera, curiosamente só os da sua espécie se interessaram, aquela espécie de seres que sabem e lutam pelo correcto... Enquanto os companheiros se esforçavam por chegar ao tamanho que ele alcançara, a notícia espalhara-se por toda a floresta. Estava tão feliz que se tornara amarelo como o Sol, as pétalas debruaram a coroa interior de glorioso ouro. E ajudava gafanhotos e outros insectos pequenos a subir até ao seu topo, permitindo-os usar gradualmente as folhas como escada e plataforma de salto para as poças que entretanto se haviam formado no chão pelas últimas chuvas. No cimo, os insectos juntavam-se a pássaros de pequena estatura que improvisaram uma esplanada. O girassol sentia-se o rei daquela zona ainda que ao anoitecer, o cansaço se abatia sobre ele e pendia a cabeça para dormir.

O Sol exercia um poder tão forte sobre ele que o impulsionava a subir, emprestava-lhe razão para crescer. Isto era tudo o que ele sentia. Isto era tudo o que ele sabia. Todos temos o direito de exigir o Sol, ou... um lugar ao Sol, não de exigi-lo dos outros, mas de nós mesmos. E depois, se tentarmos que perdemos?

There was a country where everybody would constantly look down.

They would go up and down for and backwards without raising their heads. They were always sad but no one questioned it. It was always so. They were so used to it that all they could see was their own shadow. All they could see was `till the back of the person ahead. They always walked like dominoes – giving the same distance from one another, at the same pace and rhythm…

Grey was the color of everything – buildings, cars, cloths, instruments and so on…
One day a woman out of something that even she couldn’t explain, looked up.
-Uau! - She said.
In this thing covering the entire city, there was something strange. Could it be a color?

At home, moved out of curiosity, she went to internet to search…
In its maps of the planet there was this kind of halo involving the Earth that she never noted before. Well, she had a vague idea of it, but it was so faded… Perhaps while she was a child, she saw it, but she wasn’t sure of it.
So she found out now that it had a color – Blue. More strange then that is that it could have other colors according to the hours of the day!

The next day, as she went to work, she tried to see more of it. She looked up again and there it was! As the text said – blue, white – probably clouds, she thought – and then some other tone of blue, a darker one…

At work she couldn’t concentrate very well and the chief ask for her attention, ashamed she continued working putting her thoughts far away from her. The answers and the questions should come to her later. She had the responsibility to labor.
Going home from work, the very first thing she did was to look up and boom! Someone step on her – Look where you’re going, you! – She rapidly went to a corner to be at ease. There it was again… Now with different colors as promised in that article.
-How come I’ve missed this spectacle before?
As the light went down, she hurried home. There was no one in the streets already.
She couldn’t talk to no one because everybody was always hurrying somewhere. There was never time for anything else but work.
This time, at home she stopped for a little while and saw what was on the TV. She had it always on but only for the sound, to keep her company, she never actually saw it. She had no time for it.
That same weekend she decided to talk to her boyfriend – they were supposed to marry in a week! – Don’t waste time with such nonsense – He said! So she went back to look down again…

The marriage was fine, everybody was happy that day, happy with no smiles!
Sometime later she discovered that they were going to have a baby…

As the baby grew older and started to talk, he noted that his own mother would smile when she was taking care of him, and not only then, she would smile when she was in the street getting him from the kindergarten. Sometimes, as he himself would smile, his colleagues and teachers would ask him what he was doing, so he asked his mother about it. Patiently she explained the colors – red, blue, yellow – she explained that from those he could have others by summing it – green, orange, purple…

He was admired that she knew so much about this subject! In school all he was learning was the letters and the numbers. The teachers themselves wouldn’t know anything of that subject; they were only aloud to teach numbers and letters. It was also all they knew! Besides, why would someone just look up?
Mother and child would go unnoted to the limits of the city to find other colors. While doing it, they discovered other forms and things.
Going back home, they would take their time and everybody would yell – they had to walk everybody else’s rhythm.

The child would ask his mum why was that so – she wasn’t sure but she told him that everybody was so concentrated on following the rules and working that they all forgot how to smile, how to live, how to be nice and the colors.
Besides – she said – when you see only shadow, yours and everybody else’s, you forget that there are more than shoes to life; you forget that there is a Sun. Remember – she continued – the sun is there for everybody to enjoy it, but it will only shine in your face if you just look up!

O maior deserto que alguma vez encontrei foi em mim.

Em criança ia à praia, semicerrava os olhos e deixava a imaginação tomar conta da paisagem. Atirava-me para a areia escaldante e pedia: - Água! Água! – Gatinhava um pouco e - Água! – A voz tremia, qual actriz no papel da sua vida! Arrastava-me por fim, com um braço esticado até à extremidade dos dedos, suplicava as últimas palavras... – A minha vida por um pouco de água... Água!

A minha irmã entre o riso e a vergonha de alguém mais estar a apreciar aquele espectáculo, crescia. Com o tempo acabei por acompanhar esse processo fossilizante do corpo, quantas vezes da alma também - crescer.
Dei por mim a olhar um deserto que era meu. Observava a sua superfície e perguntava se apenas existia aquilo de mim. – Quão vazia sou...- Pensava. Procurei. Acabei por abrir-me. Passei a parede da pele. Encontrei gordura, veias, sangue. Parei. A dor estava à superfície, não dentro. Ou melhor, estava tão dentro que não seria assim que a encontraria...
Penso nas gentes do deserto, aquelas que creio nunca irei encontrar. Como sobrevivem elas? Como sobrevivi eu?
Olho o tubo de ensaio onde guardei a minha vida. Descubro que ali está o que não vi antes. Não sabia ver. Cá dentro, bem guardado, tenho vida para além da vida. Rios que se encontram; mares onde o Sol, meu coração, se deita e levanta conforme as alegrias e tristezas da mente. A minha terra, carne que movimenta as pedras, ossos que me estruturam, é fértil apesar de nunca ter gerado. Sou todo o planeta Terra por dentro. Como poderia alguma vez ser vazia? Estar vazia?

E o céu? Ah esse! Encontra-se bem no alto do meu corpo, nesse lugar chamado cabeça e é infinito. As nuvens formam-nas os caracóis dos meus cabelos, também se movem quando sopra o vento, embora pense muita gente que estão quietinhas. E as minhas também gostam de brincar às esculturas. Gostam, gostam, gostam! E querem ser livres. Tento controlá-las e elas repetem até eu ouvir – Não! Somos livres!

Que fazer senão aceitar? Que fazer, se são livres?

LIVRES!