White and Black Clay People, or What Matters in Bolec

More than a hundred white clay people marched in the Glina Show parade, followed by six Black clay kids. And that is exactly what I wanted to tell you about today. To share with you what I think about it.

I approached those children painted Black when Mr Łętowski was filming them—rather like Janda in “Man of Marble,” filming the monument to the worker Birkut—and said to them: “I like you; you’re cool kids.” What else can you say to a teenager who goes out into the street as an adult, convinced that it is their own choice?

But it was not those teenagers who should have been in the street.

It should have been Mr Nowak who went painted Black with his son, Mr Łętowski, the Marczewski brothers, and all the heroes acting as extras alongside Mr Mozil in the video directed by, or merely scripted by, the outstanding documentarian Patrycja. But none of them wanted to paint their hands and faces Black.

I inform you that the children made no impression on me whatsoever. But if Mr Ogrodnik, Małkowski and Rudyk—Mozil’s Three Musketeers—had stood in my way, I swear I would have fainted from the impression. But they merely squeezed in between Makłowicz and Nowicki, so that they could be shown for free on YouTube before the election, and now they will be running a campaign of love.

Or if Ms Juszkiewicz and Maślicka had dressed in Black and walked hand in hand like best friends. That would have made more than just me thunderstruck. It has long been known that both women love one another across boundaries, as they proved by being the leading figures on the lists in Nowak’s old presidential campaign. As an aside, that campaign was thoroughly ruined by our aforementioned filmmaker of Black clay children, Bernard Łętowski, who was then the head of Nowak’s campaign.

Even Mozil smeared with Black paint would have impressed me, but he would have had to be paid handsomely for the painting, and everyone knows that “poor” Boguś had already contributed so much to Gliniada in Bolesławiec out of his own pocket that he had to stop organizing it—and did not organize it for three years, nor did he intend to do so in the fourth year, because the city did not want to give him the paltry 45,000 złoty needed to organize it.

To sum up, instead of those children, you adults should have gone. Messrs Nowak, Ogrodnik, Małkowski, Rudyk, Łętowski and Marczewski, and Mses Juszkiewicz and Maślicka. But you did not have the courage. Because you know that in reality no one would believe you: you are steeped in politics up to the tips of your noses, which ought to grow like Pinocchio’s nose.

And I would like to see such a protest from you, because if you walked behind me with Black faces and in Black outfits, and someone asked me what on earth it was, I could answer like Pawlak: “Who’s going to stop me from strolling around town with a waxed little herd?”