Slawomir Mrożek grew up in Kraków during World War II. He became a member of the Polish United Workers' Party during the reign of Stalinism in the People's Republic of Poland and made his living (you call this living?!!) as a political journalist.
The Elephant - Mr. Mrożek's laser-sharp satire of totalitarian practices told in 42 short, ironic fable-tales. To share a feel for the delights in store for any reader, I've focused on three yarns:
FROM THE DARKNESS
The narrator tells us he along with the others in his remote village are currently in the grip of ignorance and superstition. At the moment he wishes to venture outside in the dark to take a piss but he's afraid one of the many flying bats will lodge itself in his hair and he won't be able to get it out. So he stays inside and writes up his report.
Let's be łaskawy (gracious) and give our narrator a name - Jakub. Anyway, Jakub reports the price of grain has fallen ever since the devil appeared at the local mill wearing a red, white and blue cap embroidered with the words Tour de la Paix. The peasants have been avoiding the mill and, to top it off, the manager and his wife were driven to drink until one fine day the manager splashed his wife with vodka and set her on fire. Thereafter he departed for the People's University to read Marxism in order to counter irrational elements. Meanwhile his wife who died in the flames leaves us with one more ghost.
Jakub's report continues, informing us of such things as bloodcurdling howls at night that might be the spirit of poor Karas cursing the rich kulaks or wealthy Krywon, long dead, complaining about compulsory deliveries. Howling as a proper class war. And one day Jusienga was out reading Horizons of Technology when something got him in the back so for three whole days he never stopped staring vacantly.
Jakub requests advice from his comrades in the city since he and his villagers are all alone, surrounded by nothing but distance and graves. And he's been told by a forester that when there's a full moon heads without bodies roll around chasing and knocking into each other. And when they pour milk into jugs hunchback dwarfs appear out of nowhere to spit in the milk. And, according to the village priest, the skeleton found behind Mocza's barn was a political skeleton. No doubt about it, comrades, more than anything else, Jakub's report is a plea for help. Help!
Daniel Mroz's illustration for From the Darkness
THE ELEPHANT
Slawomir Mrożek begins his tale thusly: "The director of the Zoological Gardens has shown himself to be an upstart. He regarded his animals simply as stepping stones on the road of his own career. He was indifferent to the educational importance of his establishment."
The zoo was located in a provincial town and lacked a number of the more important animals. Whereupon on July 22, anniversary day of the Polish Committee of National Liberation manifesto under Stalin, the zoo was allocated an elephant. The staff was overjoyed. However, their joy was short-lived. The director, being a good communist, sent a letter to Warsaw renouncing the allocation and proposed a plan to obtain an elephant that would cost less and thus be less of a burden on the shoulders of Polish miners and foundry workers - an inflatable rubber elephant.
The director's rubber elephant proposal was accepted. Upon the completion of the making of the rubber elephant, two keepers were charged with blowing the elephant up to its full size. Well, comrades, you can imagine how much huffing and puffing it would take to blow that rubber into a full-sized elephant. Perhaps predictably, after many hours of such huffing and puffing and blowing by the two keepers, the rubber elephant was still nearly as flat as an enormous grey pancake. Many hundreds of puffs later, deep into the night, the keepers spot a gas pipe ending in a valve.
I suspect you can guess what happened. If you need a hint, below is Daniel Mroz's illustration for the story. As for the schoolchildren who paid a special visit to the zoo the next day, you will have to read for yourself. All I can say is, if you want to build a perfect state-controlled country, get yourself perfectly real elephants for your zoos.
THE SWAN
The Polish authorities take their totalitarianism seriously - every comrade, no matter size, shape or species, must maintain moral principles. No exceptions. Nothing less than the health and well-being of future generations is at stake.
There once was a swan on a lake in a park that was stolen by hooligans. Unacceptable. A new swan was appointed to swim on the lake in the park. So as to make sure nothing happened to this new swan, a guard was also appointed to keep watch over the swan day and night.
On one frigid night the guard could not endure nearly freezing to death, thus he decided to take refuge in the local restaurant. So as not to leave his swan unguarded, he took the swan along with him. The swan objected but was placated when the guard shared his bread and vodka. Successive nights of bitter cold and the swan acquired a keen taste for vodka.
But then it happened: one sunny morning a mother brought her small children to the park to see the swan on the lake. The swan was not swimming; the swan was reeling about in the water. Unacceptable. The mother complained to the proper authorities. Both the guard and the swan were dismissed since, in Slawomir Mrożek's own words: "Even in the most modest position its holder must have some moral principles."
Polish playwright, storyteller and cartoonist Sławomir Mrożek (1930 – 2013)
“The old woman started to scream but nobody came to see what was the matter. Can one be sure who is screaming and from what ideological position?”
― Sławomir Mrożek
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