Who fools who?

The day I was born is not clearly defined. Not even today. Difficult as it may seem, this sad event accompanying my birth is totally reasoned. You see, on the day I was born, half the world followed the ten month calendar of Ancient Rome, whereas the other half had already adopted the Gregorian calendar, the one most people use all over the world nowadays.

Now of course you may raise your eyebrows. How could something like that ever be possible? When was I born?

Well, you guessed it right. I was born in a year, which lies approximately 4 centuries away from us. I was never the shining star in my maths class, but at least I have this right. I am 438 years old. I am also ugly, but let us not make it a very big deal. Besides, the civilised world you have created and are lucky to live in, focuses on the importance of inner qualities, doesn’t it?

There has been no yoga or fitness class, well-being seminar or book, interviews of intellectual people, articles or demonstrations, which have not declared in their own unique, powerful voice, that each being is unique, of unique value, holding its own version of beauty, no matter the wrinkles, the pointed nose, the flying ears, the dull or loose skin.

At least that is what I thought until I found myself face to face with a reality that proved indeed really different. But let’s take things from the beginning.

I may not know the exact day of my birth but I know the year and the place. I was born in 1583 in a tree hollow in Dartmoor, the well-known Dartmoor National Park standing in all its sublime in southern Devon in England. Countries had started adopting the Gregorian calendar since 1582, but still the debate among the habitants of my home place was heated. Boxen, the leader of our community was old fashioned, stuck to the traditional calendar but the most progressive ones wanted to follow the final decision of the researchers and scientists.

Grandma always told me that she named me Apertus¹ because of her love for April and Latin. Against the odds, since progress is usually considered a love of youngsters, grandma despite her older age, she was for progress. She also told me that the whole village kept narrating the funny ongoing sneezings I had as a baby from the pollen. It was April; spring had burst out wild and flower sprouting went crazy. ‘Never before had I seen such a beautiful, non dangerous explosion’ Grandma told me. ‘Never doubt you. You are the son of April’.

Years passed by and the ‘son of April’ got to be my nickname, the way everybody knew me or addressed me. Until the major problem appeared.

The day for my test had arrived. The test entitling me to my adulthood and the recognition of all the members of my society that I indeed had inherited the legacy of my race. The test was the final step to prove to my people that I was a worthy follower of my origins and legacy after all my schooling and training.

I had two options. Either find one or more travellers passing through our woods and astray them away or go to the nearest town and frighten a maiden. I chose the first one. I did not feel such enthusiasm for wandering into the noisy streets of the city and spend my days in finding the easiest maiden to frighten.

Luck was not on my side at the moment of my choice, though. Everybody hid in the bushes near the ponds, or climbed up to the branches of the trees, resting onto their thick foliage, waiting to have a good laugh while watching me misleading the passing travellers.

Sun was ready to go sleeping, giving his last passionate kiss onto the right cheek of Mother Earth, when the noise was heard. I was so tired of waiting that I did not really want to hear the invading sound. Still, the sound got more and more vivid, inviting me to listen to it and not neglect it.

The whimpering grunting sound started taking its format. A face covered by naughty curls thrown all over it erratically, heart breaking tears watering the soil, and a runny nose that kept running like in a marathon.

The moment the young girl perceived my presence, she stared at me and said nothing. Only the sound of the running nose stopped being heard. She breathed in and kept her breath staring at me in surprise. One, two, three, four, five. She kept her breath for five whole seconds. And then she let all her breath come out in a lion’s breath exclaiming ‘Oh, you are not a wolf. You are ugly but not frightening’

That was the last thing I expected to hear. The responses of humans in front of our appearance had been categorized in two typical reactions. Reaction number one was a huge cry, causing shivering to all plants and animals and reaction number two was happiness to see in real the elflike spirit they have only heard in fairy tales. Either fear of the unknown or excitement for the new, were the feelings we knew we caused. Now, I had to deal with a feeling I did not know I could cause. The feeling of disappointment. For the first time, I was told that I was not enough.

Now, what? While the girl’s disappointment started flowing in a small circular stream that surrounded me, keeping me apart from my own syndicate, the reality called for a clever reaction.

The clever reaction did not come. The girl sighed angrily and turned her back to me going on her own way, never giving me the chance to say something. I never found out whether or not she found the wolf she wanted to find. Neither did I find out what she did when she found the wolf. Did she have any fun like the fun she could have had with me?

Who knows? I only know that I had to visit the nearest city, followed by the jury to witness my success in my mission and frighten a maiden instead. Josephine, that poor maiden got so frightened that the windows all over the house cracked. Now, I was officially a successful pixie. Josephine apparently found me ugly and frightening at the same time!

The rejection though of that girl in combination with my failure to stand up to the demand of that unprecedented challenge, to respond to something I had never before come across, planted the seed of doubt within me.

My home place did not have enough space for me anymore so I decided to wander around, trying to find at least once more this kind of challenge. The challenge of coming across the unexpected. Looking for a person not afraid of my ugliness. I am still looking for it though, after so many years. You have confused me terribly and I am lost. Every day I get lost all over again.

I mean, I know I am ugly. I am sure of it. There are some beauty standards. Ugly is not the only thing I am though. I am a guarantee for a good laugh. I am a reason to believe in the elfiness of life itself. I am a proof that fantasy is an integral part of your reality. Still, there has been no other person than that cravingly daring girl of my youth years who has not been frightened by me. Whenever you see me, you freak out.

Who is fooling who, then? You fool yourselves on your own my dear fellows. No need for me to fool you either on April 1st or on any other day. Your fear of being imperfect is so foolish that covers any other fool element, any other prank, any other trick. Time to go back home. Go on retirement and have laughs with my syndicate back in Dartmoor. I am tired of your fool foolishness. You have lost the meaning of being fool.

You fooled me once back then at my test. That girl made me believe that people can indeed overcome their fear of bad looks. Hmm, you cannot fool me twice.

Still, in case you want to fool me twice, you know where to find me. I am Apertus, a male pixie who got sick and tired of your fool lack of foolishness. So, here I am, going on retirement. Truth or lie, who can really tell? Yet this is the way my story, the story of a male pixie named Apertus¹ who gets on early retirement, goes.

¹ Apertus: open (etymologically, ‘Appertus’ originates as a derivative participle from the Latin verb * apparere = to appear)