Categories: uncategorized
Date: 15 November 2004 09:52:35
Mr Fishsoup and I are part of a group that is trying to set up a community storytelling course, and last night we were part of an Evening To Remember at the local pub, where people brought songs, stories, poems and dramatic monologues to celebrate Remembrance Sunday in its broadest sense.
I'm not much of a storyteller, myself - my involvement in this group comes more from my Classics and English degree - so it's very theoretical. However, last night I got up, sat at a stool behind a microphone and told a story that I remembered my Mum telling me when I was very little. It went a bit like this.
"This story begins, like all my Mum's best stories, once upon a time in a land far away - but it might as well have been South London on a cold Sunday night. It concerns a village where the people had enough, but they didn't have much more than that, and they had forgotten how to share what they had. So when they saw three weary men approaching on the road, they hid their food, dressed in rags and came out to meet them.
The men were soldiers, returning from a war, and when they told the villagers that they were tired and hungry, and asked for something to eat, the villagers said that they had no food. So the men conferred among themselves and then one of them said: "Since you have nothing yourselves, we are going to give you a very great secret we have - the secret of how to make soup from stones."
Of course, the villagers were curious - who wouldn't be - and before long they had found a large cauldron, and some water from the village pump, and the men set up a fire in the middle of the village green. One withdrew three smooth stones from the backpack he carried and dropped them into the pot. Then the men sat in front of the cauldron, and the villagers behind them, and they watched the water bubble away - and nobody said a word.
Five minutes passed, and then one of the men said to another; "I do love Stone Soup, don't you? The other month though, I had Stone Soup with a bit of garlic, and that truly was the best soup I've ever tasted." "Mmm," replied his companion. "Stone Soup with garlic is a meal fit for a king." As he spoke, there was a cough behind him, and one of the old ladies of the village held out a head of garlic she had rescued from its hiding place in her home. "Put this in the pot," she said, blushing. "I've only just remembered I had it." And the water continued to boil away. Then one of the other men said to another. "Do you know what, I've just remembered the Stone Soup we had last week, which had a couple of ham bones thrown into the pot as well. Now that really was superb."
You can guess what happened next. Another villager tapped the man on the shoulder, and he was holding - not only a ham bone, but a few carrots he had hidden away as well. This act seemed to prompt a fit of remembering among all the locals, and soon the pot was filled with lentils, peas, cauliflower and cabbage. Everyone brought their bowls for a taste of the delicious Stone Soup - which truly was the best food they'd ever tasted.
When everyone had eaten enough, the soldiers withdrew the three stones from the pot, washed them off and put them in their backpacks - although the villagers begged them to sell the stones, they would not do so for any price. "You've taught us so much," one villager said. "Why will you not let us keep the stones so we can make our own Stone Soup?"
"We've not taught you anything," one of the soldiers said. "But hopefully we've reminded you of what you already knew - it's only by sharing what we all have together that we can make a true feast." The soldiers walked off into the night, but the villagers made Stone Soup for ever after.