Hace exactamente seis años, participé en una obra escénica musical que sería una de las últimas en representarse en el teatro Victoria Eugenia de Donosti. Era una obra bastante diferente, supongo. Yo tomaba parte en el coro, claro, pero allí había actores, músicos,... bueno había de todo. Era una representación de un cuento de navidad vasco; en él se podía ver a un pueblo adorador de los dioses tradicionales de la mitología vasca. A este lugar llegaban los cristianos colonizando el espíritu relligioso de los habitantes de la zona causándoles gran confusión. Y es esta confusión la gran protagonista de la línea argumental de la obra, línea que alcanzaba su clímax en el monólogo de una joven pueblerina que expresaba sus dudas.Hace unos días encontré el monólogo entre reliquias varias. En la universidad utilicé este texto para insertarlo en un trabajo literario, para lo cual tuve que traducirlo al inglés. Os animo a leerlo y a que me digáis qué os parece.
A VILLAGER EXPRESSES HER DOUBTS
We are told that God led Adam to the shadow of the tree, and that He set the prohibited apple there to his choice. Why must we believe that such apple was the fruit of sin? They assert that God loved Adam deeply, why to distrust, then? Why to subject His son to such a fireproof? We have to believe that it was God that gave fingers and hands to us; what for, but to pay tribute to our sun and our moon? So much sense of touch, what for, but to take that apple? We are given a mouth with which we speak, we see each other, and we drink each other; but now it happens to be that we have to disown our tactile language of lips! Honestly, it seems to me difficult to believe. They have to let us see with our eyes, and no longer with our mouth, which will be condemned.
We are told that we must use our mouth as a sense of vision; us, who always considered it the live tool that leads us to the clearest horizon; the mouth as a guide, as the eye that accompanies the eyes. My knowledge becomes darkened, and I understand no word they say.
They assert that the adoration of our God Urtzi is pure fable. But, may not this fable of good and evil that they offer us be a major fable? May not the apple and the snake be false? The apple and the Snake, much less credible, in any case, than the ray of sun that tempers the crops at dusk and the moon that gives the meadow its dew to drink at dawn. If everything is a fable, I prefer ours: the one about Urtzi, about the sun and the moon, about our stone-gods, -who are the bridges-, and not the pantomime of twisted tongues of snakes that they seem to be offering us.
If, like every woman, I am Eve, too, and if it is true that those who have tasted me and those that I have tasted have tasted evil at the same time, if I have to believe all that, I would rather believe in the sun and its twelve warm rays, which are the twelve months of the year. And if evil is really evil, and it is inside me from the very beginning, they'd better give us more clear ideas or a darker brain.
(There is somebody who still doubts)
Perhaps, every one of us sees just what they have been given to see. I do not have interest in not believing, but I do not believe. There is no way of dividing what is crystal clear from what is obscure, it is impossible to do so, just in the same way as the line of the door separates the shadow from the light at noon. There will be as much pain as pleasure, as much solitude as company, as many cuffs as kisses. A god who alters the distribution: such a god does not exist. If you please, give a chance to the apple tree. But, for me, an apple tree is just an apple tree. Immortality is a vague illusion: a wind trapped into a butterfly net; if we compare immortality with the beauty of the apple tree, the former is an empty word. The fact of yearning to know the end makes you believe in God. It leads you to believe in something.
When I become tired I lay down by the shadow of the apple tree. I find great peace when leant against its trunk. I believe firmly, I believe firmly in the apple tree.