The Myth of the Origin of Races
Daniel Macrohon
3-I
Narrator: Men and women
ages before you, said that Laor, the creator and god, was blue. Blue not by
color, but by feelings. Out of this he decided to create earthlings.
Laor: Time now, time onward. It seems that the earth is a ward. Gradually, I
can no longer endure this solitude. From this clayI step on, I shall find
gratitude.
(prepares the pot and clay)
Laor: Tears of the cloud for moisture and stones of the land for stature. Mix,
mix… but wait! Most importantly the clay is for his texture. He shall be baked
upon this furnace, and shall bear the name of Man. His arrival, I await.
(adds the ingredients into the pot)
Laor: (sleep talking) Man, man, man, man, man, man…
(pot violently shakes)
( dark man emerges)
Laor: ….man, man, man. Burnt man! This can’t be, I must have a better Man.
Unlike him, it would be difficult for a god to find this Man.
(adds again the clay into the pot)
(stays near the pot)
Laor: I shall guard thee to ensure no mistake. I will watch every tear that
flies whatever it takes. There is no time to remake.
(hums and sings)
Laor: Hellio and Strato moves a meter apart. Enough time to remove this Man
from the pot. I hope that this will work, or I shall give this to the stork.
Laor: Too much, I mean too early for you! This creation is more sophisticated
than loneliness alone. Get back and I shall atone. Instead of solutions, I get
more tensions.
(white man goes back in)
Laor: Double the time it took for this clay to be cooked. I shall get the
perfect one and my bliss will have won!
(pot calmly shakes)
(Man emerges)
Laor: Finally, I have created the best one. My sorrow is gone, and off you go
to the earth bellow. I will watch how you will grow, but I’ll bring you back
when I feel again sorrow.
Narrator: There, henceforth came the spring of Men, and although the first two
were ignored, Laor still made them dwell in earth. Being alone was no horror,
especially when he stays with them in hearth.
-END-
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