Thursday, 07 August 2008
Babou the Donkey/Babou l'Ane
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Click on the pictures to enlarge them.
Cliquer sur les images pour les aggrandir.
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Babou the donkey lives in Normandy in a cloud of flies.
He was already waiting for us, watching intently when I nosed the rental car into the driveway to the old stone house I had rented for a summer holiday with Philippe and Hélène.
The next morning, unable to pry my two teenagers loose from their Gameboys, I decided to strike out on my own to explore the countryside a bit. I strolled up the driveway into the dusty road leading through the farmland. And what was that? I stopped dead, fascinated, to stare at two very long, furry great ears standing up at attention over the hedge. It's astonishing really, how stupid one can be when faced with incongruity, and it took a full minute of deep thinking (I really did need a vacation) before I had the bright idea of simply walking around the hedge, to see what the ears were attached to. And that was how I found the rest of Babou.
Babou l’Ane vit en Normandie, dans un petit nuage de quelques mouches.
Il nous attendait déjà, regard intense, quand j’introduisais la voiture de location dans le chemin allant vers la vieille maison en pierre que j’ai pris pour les vacances d’été avec Philippe et Hélène.
Le matin après, incapable de défaire mes deux adolescents de leurs Gameboys, j’ai décidé de partir seule pour explorer les environs un peu. J’ai pris le chemin et ensuite la route poudreux coupant les terres agricoles. C’était quoi, ça ? Je me suis arrêtée net, médusée, devant la vision de deux longues oreilles poilues et grises à garde à vue aperçues par-dessus la haie. C’est étonnant, quand même, combien qu’on peut être sot face à une incongruité, et il m’a fallu une minute entière de réflexion profonde (j’étais vraiment en besoin de vacances) avant de trouver que je devais contourner la haie pour voir à quoi les oreilles étaient attachées. Et c’est comme ça que j’ai trouvé le solde de Babou.
His owners, I noted sadly, had attached him to a tree on a long chain that I later observed they moved every other day so that his trampling and eating would level the weeds. He watched me now, motionless, head lowered, as I tentatively approached. I didn't know it, but he was a remarkably Pythagorean donkey, and he was in fact so still because he was concentrated on complex calculations of my speed and direction and the coordinates of my precise arrival point in the Exceedingly Mathematical circle described by the compass of his chain; this time and space problem was an interesting one, permitting him to set his own self in motion on a trajectory perpendicular to mine for the purpose of intersection and implicit demands of affection.
It was the start of a summer romance with a mathematician. My children and I took to visiting him once or twice a day, bringing him bits of bread. He watched for us constantly and as soon as we came within his Exceedingly Mathematical circle, he would immediately put his clever mind to work to trot to the position correctly contiguous with our trajectory to ensure he got his ears tickled and nice things murmured into them.
Ses propriétaires, j’ai noté avec tristesse, le tenait attaché à un arbre, par une longue chaîne. J’ai observé par la suite qu’ils changeaient son arbre tous les deux jours pour que les pieds et la bouche de Babou coupent les mauvaises herbes. Il me regardait maintenant, sans bouger, pendant que je me suis approchée de lui avec précaution. Je ne le savais pas encore, mais il était un âne remarquablement pythagoricien, et il ne bougeait pas parce qu’il se concentrait sur de complexes calculs de ma vitesse et de ma direction et des coordonnées de mon point d’arrivée précis dans le cercle décrit par la compas de sa chaîne ; ce problème de temps et de l’espace était intéressant, lui permettant de se mettre en mouvement lui-même sur un trajectoire perpendiculaire à la mienne pour réaliser son objectif d’intersection et des demandes implicites d’affection.
C’était le début d’une romance de vacances d’été avec un mathématicien. Mes deux grands et moi prenaient l’habitude de lui rendre visite une ou deux fois par jour, pour lui apporter des bouts de pain. Il nous guettait, et dès que nous sommes arrivés dans son cercle mathématique, il mettrait son esprit vif au travail pour trotter à la position correctement contiguë avec notre trajectoire pour assurer que ses oreilles seraient caressées et des choses sympathiques chuchotées dedans.
One day we saw he had had a morning of making terrible mistakes in his sums and calculations, because he was standing hard by the tree, his Exceedingly Mathematical circle sharply reduced, his chain having got wound the trunk too many times. It was a little effort, overcoming his donkey stubbornness about getting unwound (I have known people like that), but he was so happy to regain his relative freedom that he followed me in an utterly straight line from point A to point B, as far as his chain would permit, until he was standing forlornly at the very circumference of his Exceedingly Mathematical circle, head lowered with his concentration on the final desperate calculations of my position in relation to his, watching me go.
Un jour on a vu qu’il a eu une matinée d’erreurs terribles dans ses sommes et ses calculs, parce qu’il était très près de l’arbre, son cercle mathématique très réduit, sa chaîne étant enroulée autour du tronc beaucoup trop de fois. Ce n’était pas sans peine que j’ai pu surmonté son entêtement d’âne contre l’idée de se défaire de son problème (j’ai connu des gens comme ça), mais il était si content de retrouver sa liberté relative qu’il m’a suivi dans une ligne droite de point A à point B, jusqu’à l’extrême bout de sa chaîne. Il restait là, dépité, la tête baissée avec sa concentration sur ses ultimes calculs désespérés de sa position par rapport à la mienne, me regardant partir.
Our last day Philippe, Hélène and I went to gravely tell him good-bye. He understood, and flicked his tail only laconically at flies. We gave him our bread and a last pat and turned to begin heading, regretfully, to Paris. “Look at Babou!” Hélène said, and I turned to see that he was the very epitome of attention: straining and rigid at the extreme end of his chain, his head up, ears up, everything concentrated on calculations of probability – the probability of our bringing bread the next day, the probability of our whispering nice things in his ears sometime soon, the probability of his ever seeing us again. But there was no help for it, we went round the corner of the hedge and out of his sight.
“Hee haw!” We heard, and looked at each other, troubled. “Hee haw! Hee haw!” Babou called and called noisily. He so wanted us to return and demonstrate the error in his calculations. But there was no help for it. We had to go round the corner of the hedge and out of his quiet little life.
Notre dernier jour Philippe, Hélène et moi, nous sommes allés gravement lui dire au revoir. Il comprenais ce que se passait, et sa queue donnait que de petits coups laconiques contre les mouches. On lui a donné notre pain et une dernière caresse avant de se tourner pour se diriger à la gîte pour rentrer à Paris, avec regret. « Regardes Babou ! » disait Hélène, et je me suis retournée pour voir qu’il était l’attention incarnée : rigide et tirant sur sa chaîne, sa tête levée, les oreilles dressées, tout concentré sur des calculs de probabilité – la probabilité qu’on allait lui emmener du pain le jour après, la probabilité qu’on allait encore lui chuchoter des choses sympathiques dans les oreilles, la probabilité qu’il allait nous revoir de tout. Mais il n’y avait rien à faire, nous avons contourné la haie et nous sommes partis du champ de sa vision.
« Hi han ! » On a entendu, et on se regardait, troublés. « Hi han ! Hi han ! » Babou nous appelait et il nous appelait bruyamment. Il voulait terriblement qu’on revienne pour lui démontrer l’erreur dans ses calculs. Mais il n’y avait rien à faire, nous étions obligés de contourner la haie et partir de sa petite vie tranquille.
From left to right: Philippe, Hélène, Babou, euh...me, and Hélène's friend, Anne-Sophie.
De gauche à droit: Philippe, Hélène, Babou, euh...me, et l'amie d'Hélène, Anne-Sophie.
19:35 Posted in My Sketchbook/Mon carnet à dessin | Permalink | Comments (8) | Email this



Comments
Ah, a smart ass. Can you send him to my house to eat MY lawn? Mowing is SUCH a drag.
July 8? Really? welcome back.
Posted by: Roger Green | Thursday, 07 August 2008
Hooray, you are back !!
Thanks for the cute story.
As a matter of interest, the Phythagoreans were not allowed to eat meat or own personal belongings. They also observed a rule of silence called echemythia, the breaking of which was punishable by death. One had to remain silent for five years before he could contribute to the group.
So I guess the vegetarian aspect was easy for Babou but how did he manage to keep quiet for 5 years ?
Posted by: Mallard | Thursday, 07 August 2008
Does his hypothetical mind square the hypotenuse ?
Posted by: mallard | Thursday, 07 August 2008
How sweet and so nicely told as always! Glad to read your prose again.
There's a lot of donkeys in Tunisia... and all around the Mediterranean. Here is a blog about donkeys or rather donkey welfare in my region (http://operationmonique.skyrock.com/) and also another one in Morocco (http://www.fhh-sos-animaux.com/francais.html).
Posted by: Hayet Dhifallah | Thursday, 07 August 2008
What a delightful post! Love the drawings, especially the last, and the story. Could there be a children's book in this, "Visits with Babou"? I do question the identities of Babou and my friend Helene in the photo. I'm certain Helene is not the one with the long ears as your caption suggests.
Posted by: Ted | Friday, 08 August 2008
Où étiez-vous en Normandie si ce n'est pas indiscret ?
Et saviez-vous qu'il existe une race protégée d'ânes Normands, qui ont failli disparaître mais qui reviennent à la mode ?
Posted by: Emmanuel | Friday, 08 August 2008
I like your writing. Things come to mind (yours I mean) which would probably not have been possible in French, at least not the way you put it ;-) Language does shape thinking no matter what some say.
Posted by: Véronique | Saturday, 09 August 2008
I think I punched the wrong link and unsubscribed....please reinstate! I was going to reread the
donkey essay again - it's really first rate, by the way. Unusual, quirky and charming.
Posted by: Dennis G. | Thursday, 14 August 2008
The comments are closed.