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Thank you Mr Headmaster and the
teaching staff for your
contribution. Grandfather of Mathis
De Brabandere (° 2002), signed JM
Kortijk. |
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“INTRODUCTION: Adult
INSPIRATION: The
philosophical undertone of this tale
is security; the child/adult learns
what friendship is.
CHILD: This
text is only intended to be a guide,
it should be told in a child’s
language.
ADULT:
The jumping from Poetry to the
simple children’s language in the
tale reflects the interweaving of
the adult and the eternal child
within us.” |
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With its shoulders to the fore and
its neck held high, nodding to the
left and then to the right, snorting
now and then to give itself extra
strength, the horse pushes its
hooves diagonally backwards into the
turned over soil.
The heavy roller squeaks behind
Blaze’s back.
Farmer John treads surely over the
hoof-marked earth, silent, little
Tony with his seven league boots
walking next to Farmer John. High up
a little bell tinkles on Blaze’s
neck, ringing out its music and
easing the work. |
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child’s drawing by Peter |
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The sun, that is not yet so high in
the sky, falls on Farmer John’s
furrowed neck, the warmth of the big
horse tickles their nostrils, and
they stride out, slow and sure. The
three of them pushing the stubborn
lumps flat, up and down, the roller
levelling the ground.
Towards midday the little lad’s
boots hold fast to Blaze’s steamy
shoulders.
Blaze’s body trembles, the little
lad, careful not to be a burden,
helps the body of the heavy horse as
it moves, again and again smoothing
out the ups and down.
"You can’t see it, but Farmer John
feels happy”. |
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The roller rumbles over the cobbles,
the heavy weight catching every now
and then on the grass bank. Now they
are on the right road back to the
farm. Wild and carefree, a foal
clips clops with the procession
along the barbed wire fence. Mother
Filly wrapped up in a woollen
blanket, neighs, and for a time the
lush green meadow is forgotten. |
Tony’s house was not big; it was a
rented house in dire need of a new
roof. For in the loft, where the little
lad had last gone with mother, stood
several different pots in very specific
places and these had to be emptied
urgently after every downpour.
It was just the winter past that Father
had rolled a really big snowball down
the loft ladder, the snow flurry having
made a carpet of snow as it fell through
the gaping roof tiles.
Mother and Father were not rich, but
they worked hard and if they could stay
healthy and could carry on with their
work, then Mother had already worked out
that they could even buy their own home.
Life was frugal. Tony was an only child
and his best playmate was Dolly, a
lively little dog. The two of them would
rush in and out of the house with such
force that it got on Mother’s nerves.
It didn’t matter what the little fellow
had had to eat this lunchtime because
outside the weather was beautiful and
the whole world was wonderful.
Your imagination is stirred by all this
vast space. It isn’t stifling, you can
break free. In the outdoors nature
allows for all your wildest fantasies.
You were scarcely a pinprick, and yet
you didn’t feel like one. Everything
that you could see had its place. It had
been so for years and it flourished well
here. |
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Look at Tony standing now facing the
wall, one foot stamping heavily now
and then on the ground. And isn’t
that Tony that I can hear
snorting?...alongside him lies a
pulling bar made from a twig and
some pieces of string.
The little boy had pulled the twig
off yesterday as he walked along,
all that you need, can be found here
at the sides of the fields.
Later Bert comes along and then they
will set off along the bumpy road
with their little wooden cart. Bert
was a bit later today, but the
little lad had not even noticed,
because Tony was a horse and you had
to be able to stand still for a long
time in the stall, sunk deep in
thought, trembling every now and
then from pleasant memories, and you
then had to stamp a hoof heavily to
show just how big and strong you
were. With a pat on the neck which
you appreciate, because friendship
does you good.
Tony always played at being a horse;
it was a role that suited him best.
Playing at being a farmer, no, not
that, that is too easy. And anyway,
how could he, Tony, with his
feelings for horses, play at being a
farmer and have to command a horse?
There is no need to say anything
because the horse always knows what
it has to do. Evening fell all too
quickly for Tony, and on that
evening the little chap felt so
alone.
And had he not seen that little foal
all alone in the meadow too?
Was it not for him that the little
horse had run along with the
procession to the farm? The child
felt sorry for the little foal when
he thought that it would have to
grow up to work hard, and what is
more would then have to stand so
often alone in its stall.
Mother, said the child, Mother,
instead of a little house, buy the
foal from Farmer John. |
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Horse sunk deep in thought |
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Mother took her little darling on
her lap and told him a story.
Once upon a time...The little lad
cuddled up warm in Mother’s lap.
In a ramshackle, miserable little
house there lived a little family:
Mother, Father and a little boy.
Mother and Father had to work hard,
and then they had just enough to get
through the day together.
Little Johnny, for that was the name
of the son, was a hard working boy
because every day after school he
would go and help Farmer Docus, he
worked as if for himself, and for
that he received some pocket money
from Farmer Docus.
It was springtime, and on Farmer
Docus’s farm a foal was born. Little
Johnny fell in love with it at first
sight and christened the foal Blaze
because of the white flash on the
foal’s forehead. That was a good
name they had whispered to him.
Little Johnny saved all the pennies
that he earned from working in the
evenings to buy Farmer Docus’s foal.
You will not believe it, but the
little boy slaved away so hard
during his summer holidays that he
saved enough to buy the foal.
Proudly the little chap led Blaze to
his home. The foal was set loose on
a patch of ground on Farmer Docus’s
land. Every day little Johnny would
bring his beloved extra freshly mown
grass from the canal side.
The summer was over and the grass
became more scarce and Little Johnny
had so much work with his pet horse
that Farmer Docus saw even less of
the little lad than of the tall
grass.
It turned cold and Little Johnny had
already been thinking about it for
several days. Blaze would have to
have a stall, but for want of money
to build a stall the little foal had
to be pushed up the ladder leading
to the loft with the help of Ma and
Pa. The things that parents do to
make their children happy. But the
work that the little son now had to
do to make sure that everything was
clean and to keep the smells away
was too hard.
After a week the child saw that he
could do no more, powerless and
grief stricken the little boy sat
and wept. In his great sorrow he
looked into the big eyes of his
Blaze and suddenly he had it. It
just came to him....
He had done all he could to keep his
favourite animal close to him, but
he hadn’t taken into account the
fact that the foal, despite all his
efforts, would not be at home up
there in the dark loft.
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The little chap could read
in the big eyes of the horse
that he so longed to be back
in the stall at Farmer
Docus’s, close and warm with
‘Filly’ and ‘Stallion’.
Whatever he had done, horses
do not belong with poor
people and foals really
prefer to be with Mother
Filly at night.
Weeping, Little Johnny asked
his Father if he would go
and sell Blaze to Farmer
Docus, he himself did not
dare to do it as the child
had stayed away from the
farm for such a long time.
The farmer “laughed”, he
knew very well that Little
Johnny would bring Blaze
back, and that was why he
had sold the foal for such a
small sum. After all, Docus
knew that his farm hand had
a kind heart.
Father received Little
Johnny’s meagre pocket money
from Docus, and it was now
he himself who proudly put
the hard-earned money into
Little Johnny’s small hand.
In the meantime, the foal
shook its hooves in the air
in its delight at seeing
Mother ‘Filly’ and Father
‘Stallion’ again. Little
Johnny’s heart melted with
tenderness and joy, the
little son was freed, and he
now knew that you do not
have to possess the object
of your dreams in order to
be happy. |
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Peter De
Brabandere (°1973)
in the
horse’s stall. |
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Little Johnny said: Father, I am
always pleased to see you, and
Mother is the most wonderful in the
entire world. Here is all of my
money, it is not enough to pay for
all your dreams but it will help us
to get through the difficult winter
days. And now there was a fire in
the hearth every day.
Mother, who had been staring into
the distance throughout the telling
of the story, now looked at her
Tony. And, wise as Mother was, she
could see in his eyes... lingering
questions and sadness!
Blaze the foal was certainly now
back with ‘Filly’ and ‘Stallion’,
but he would have to work hard and
stand all alone in the stall when he
was bigger, she could read in Tony’s
beseeching little eyes.
Mother carried on with the tale.
Sweetheart, you know that Little
Johnny’s foal had also learned a
lesson, he now knew that there are
people with hearts of gold that will
do all they can to make their horses
happy. And who will go to the utmost
limits of their power.
But were they, the horses, not the
powerful ones? And how better could
they have then thanked their human
friends than by giving of their
mighty strength!
You know my sweetheart that Farmer
John and his horse here on the
farm... said Mother to her child.
Tony put his little finger on his
mother’s lips and said quietly ssh...
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Mother took her little rascal up to
his little bed and tucked the sheets
up around his ears. Tony curled up
snugly and Mother just said:
Horses in their stalls will have
sweet dreams with good people, and
she gave her little rascal another
pat on the neck.
Sleep tight my lovely one.
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With a pat on the neck which you
appreciate, because friendship does you
good.
This tale “Down on the
farm” was written for my son Peter
De Brabandere (1973
Moeskroen)
and has now been rediscovered for my
grandchildren
Mathis (2002
Roeselare)
and Tanguy (2004
Roeselare).
(JM-Kortrijk 'torenvalk') |
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Roger
Roger (1923-1988) and son Jean-Marie
De Brabandere (° 1947)
(alias JM Kortrijk 'kestrel' ) |
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Horses, Roger and son. |
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Nb:
It is no coincidence that the Christian names used are those
of our grandparents who themselves lived at the Rhodeshof.
So it was for years, through their example and the stories
they dreamed up, these dear people took the time to bring
their children up well.
Look how happy Farmer John is, he puts Tony high up on his
throne on this gentle worker, close to that tinkling little
bell.
Maybe you recognize the ‘philosophical mother’ in the tale,
who tells it with love.
"Wonderful happiness, but you can’t see it" signed Farmer
John. |
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I would like to end
with a well-known saying cherished
by Achille Deput, my grandfather on
my mother’s side: |
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There alone can love
reside.
There alone is life sweet,
Where men in peace and freedom,
do their utmost for each other. |
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Jean-Marie De Brabandere (1947)
(alias JM-Kortrijk 'torenvalk'
Wervik 1969)
fs
(Roger Debrabandere fs (Hector x
Juliana Vanneste) x Marie Deput fa
(Achille x Maria Knockaert))
children
Peter De Brabandere x Veronique Verbeke
grandchildren Mathis De Brabandere
and Tanguy De
Brabandere |
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Play a
sport. Sunflower field Oekene 22
07 2008 |
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