2 - THE NAMELESS CITY
All together, there were one hundred. Counting the man, who came to be known only as Loner, there were one hundred and one. Just a few people, an insignificant number in relation to the objective. Later, more would come. Hundreds and hundreds, thousands,would become a myriad with a common goal. Their worthy cause united the men and kept them motivated, undaunted by the magnitude of the work at hand. The challenge of building a city had to be met, so they unfurled their flags and marched forward in battle.
The first building they raised was the museum, so that they could preserve the history of the city as it developed. The building with its noble lines and ample space was walled in and surrounded by vast gardens. Two grand stairways projected from its façade. Each a main entrance, the one on the left led to an immense lobby and corridor heading to the founders’ gallery, which would hold portraits of the hundred pioneers who joined Loner. The frames are displayed on the walls just as they were placed at the time of construction. Just the frames.
The stairway on the right led to another lobby whose corridor directed people to a gallery which had been reserved for portraits of future authorities. Frames had been tastefully arranged, but just as in the founders’ gallery, the frames were empty. In a room to the left of the founders’ gallery were the city archives, where important papers and historical documents were to be displayed or stored. Incredibly, all of the shelves, display cases, and files were completely empty.
In symmetry, the heraldry room to the right of the other gallery had been reserved for banners and coats of arms. It was also bare.
From the ceiling of each room hung enormous crystal chandeliers, some with more than two hundred lights. They seemed brand new. In fact, everything in the museum — the furniture, the polished marble floor, the red carpet runners — was in perfect condition. Was the museum a useless work of art?
No, and if people were to think so, they couldn’t be more mistaken. Each day groups of tourists visit the stately building seeking information and emotion because, above all, that’s what tourism’s about.
Who wouldn’t be impressed to learn that the museum was the first building raised in the City?
Who wouldn’t be moved hearing the story of the loner and his decision to build a city?
When schools were in session, especially on weekends, children stood on long lines for the museum. They were anxious to see and to hear and to discover the secrets of the fascinating loner.
“Whose picture should be in that big frame?” someone would address a teacher.
“Over there? That should be the portrait of the loner.”
“Who was the loner?”
A group of children, buzzing with curiosity would approach asking questions. They wanted to know everything related to the museum, asking questions and listening to answers until their thirst for knowledge was quenched.
“Excuse me, mam, the plaque says this is the Heraldry Room. What is heraldry?”
“Heraldry is the art or science of coats of arms.”
“And what are coats of arms?”
“A coat of arms is a kind of shield, insignia, an emblem. For example, the design on the pocket of your school uniform is the school’s emblem. It’s like a coat of arms.
“Teacher, after completing the museum, what did the loner build?”
The answer came unexpectedly by a stranger, a tour guide who joined the group, explaining, “After the museum, the loner and his friends constructed buildings that the community would need in order to survive."
“And what were they?” asked a few of the children speaking at the same time.
“A town hall, a church, a courthouse and, of course, waterworks, the City’s Waterworks.
“And what about houses? Houses for the loner and his friends?”
“ Oh,” the tour guide explained, “They built the houses last of all.”
“Did they move to the City right away?”
“They only brought their families when everything was ready. Then they moved here to stay.”
“And why did they name this city the City?”
“It’s a long story” the tour guide warned the group, but I’d be happy to tell you if you have time. You’ll have to ask your teacher.”
“We’d love to hear all about it,” the teacher answered smiling.
The guide asked the group to sit on the stairs and get comfortable before she began the tale. She told them about the loner’s problem. He was anxious to inaugurate the city, but couldn’t find a name worthy of the beauty surrounding him. He dreamed of a name that would be melodious, a name that would be easy to pronounce, and pleasant to the ear.
The guide continued, “The loner asked his friends for help, but after long meetings and debates, they decided that it would be better to get input from the population. So, they set up a giant suggestion box in front of the museum, where people who wanted to, could include their choices. They were allowed to make as many suggestions as they could. The suggestion box would be opened at a festival, where a commission of judges would announce the best name. And that’s exactly what they did. What they didn’t expect, however, was that facing so many beautiful names, and embarrassed to admit it, the commission couldn’t make a decision.
“So, what did they do?” asked a little girl with her pencil in hand ready to jot down the response.
“Well,” the guide sighed, “they had to postpone the celebration. They set a new date, but when the day arrived, the same thing happened. So again, they set a new date, and once again the judges were undecided. From postponement to postponement, from festival to festival, they got nowhere, and while the people waited, they referred to their new home as the City. Repetition became habit, habit became tradition and eventually, the tradition gained acceptance. So, that is how this city became the City, and no one even thinks about changing its name.
“Please, could you explain why the people here don’t have names either,” the teacher requested helping to give her students the benefit of the guide’s deep knowledge of the City’s history.
“It does seem strange,” he explained, “that the people here don’t have full names. Yet, everyone is identifiable because each person has a word that describes him or her. This word isn’t a typical full name, just as we know that the City doesn’t have a name. Still, because each person has a descriptive word, no one loses his or her individuality. Some of these words originated from the activities their owners performed. For example, I am Guide because of the job I do. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know what we call our mayor? Mayor, of course. Who could forget that our baker is Baker? And that the leader of the municipal orchestra is Maestro. These are simple examples of labels that are logical because the reasons for their
choices are easily understood. Others, on the other hand, are not so clear. One is Pilungo and another Calunga; both are City Club soccer players.
To illustrate his point, Guide addressed a child sitting on the first step, “And what about you, What do people call you?”
The little girl answered. “I am Yellow Karandash.”
“And do you know the story of these words?”
“Yes, my mom told me. She said that when I was born I was as skinny as a pencil and as blond as corn silk. So, my dad chose two words. ‘Karandash’ means pencil in my father’s language, and ‘Yellow’ comes from my mom’s language. My father is Russian and my mother is American.”
“Did you hear that?” the guide continued. I don’t need to go on about this subject. You all seem to understand why we don’t need names in the City.
“Okay. Next, tell us about the man-made lake, the Lake of the City,” suggested a few children at
once. Others joined in, calling out together so that no one could be heard clearly:
“Tell us about the lake.”
“Tell us about the river.”
“... about the waterfall.”
Guide always enjoyed explaining and the enthusiasm of this group motivated him.
Teacher got the group to settle down.
“Calm down, children. Please.”
Guide raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence and order in the group.
“All right now,” he said, “I’ll talk about all three. Let’s begin with the lake,
which was the first project.”
The children listened quietly as Guide began.
“I know that all of you love the lake. There’s no special reason for loving it, but it evokes strong feelings. It’s a love that comes from afar, from generation to generation, like the blood running through our veins. Our old folks tell us that when Loner and his friends finished digging the lake, they were disappointed. The water was cold and dirty, the color of red clay.
The loner was right to be sad: the lake would be of no use to the City. Then one night, he and his friends got together and spoke of the love that had gone into digging the lake. They all felt that love in the heaven and on earth and in the stars which reflected on the surface of the lake. Awestruck, they
watched the transformation. The icy water became warm; the cloudy red became crystal clear, revealing pebbles and rocks in its depths as well as colorful fish. It was as if the lake were a gigantic aquarium."
The children gazed dreamily hypnotized by the Guide’s story. They were rapt in silence.
“The lake was enchanted,” Guide concluded, confident that the children and their teacher were truly a captive audience. Instead of continuing the story, he started throwing out questions to stir up even more interest.
“Have you ever noticed that, even though everyone uses the lake to swim and fish and compete in water sports, the water is always clean and crystal clear? Did you know that whoever drinks water from the lake never leaves the City? And that if they have to leave at all, it is just for a short time? Did you know that those who do leave and come back to the City return with double the love in their hearts and commitment to contribute more and more to enrich the land? It is true. It happened to Baker and to Maestro and to Chief of Police. When Baker came back to live here, he installed a modern pastry shop. Maestro organized our superb orchestra and marching
band that you love so much. As for Chief of Police, after a few months living out of town, he returned and built a prison — the Maximum Security Prison. These are just a few of the many examples.
The lecture was interrupted by the arrival of another busload of tourists to visit the museum.
Guide excused himself to greet the next group.
“Thank you so much, Guide,” said Teacher.
“for the wonderful tour you gave the children and me.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” the children called out.
“We loved it,” others joined in.
“We’ll come back again.”
Everyone loved the tour, and I in particular, more than anyone else. After all, Guide freed me from having to explain why the City and its population didn’t have names. The tour also saved me the trouble of telling about the man-made lake, Lake of the City. It’s too bad that he didn’t have time for the river or the waterfall, but I’ll write about them later. I promise.
