IRELAND: a GATHERING of STORIES • Section 1 • the White Trout
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Ireland: A Gathering of Sto ries AWAKIN.COM DIGITAL PUBLISHING IRELAND: A GATHERING OF STORIES • Section 1 • The White Trout Story By: A strange thing happened to me when I was in California telling stories in school, way up in Liz Weir, Storyteller Northern California. A woman there told me she had Irish relatives and when I asked her she said and Author she was related to Samuel Lover. I went out and got a copy of my CD, the Glen of Stories and showed her on the notes where it said that The White Trout was collected by Samuel Lover! That’s one of those amazing stories that shows the power of the original world wide web - Storytelling! One of my favourite tales is the White Trout, it’s a legend from County Mayo from Cong which most people know about from The Quiet Man film. It was collected by a man called Samuel Lover in the 1830’s and I first heard it from the telling of Alice Kane. Alice was originally from Belfast and went to Toronto where she became a children’s librarian and then a very well known storyteller. 2 the water and popped it into a pan He cooked it The White Trout . and he cooked it and he cooked it until he thought one side would be done. But when he turned it over, There once was a beautiful lady who lived in a castle there was not a mark on it. He tried the other side. beside a lake. She was engaged to be married to a He cooked it and he cooked it but again there was king’s son, but a month before the wedding her no mark or burn. fiancé was murdered, and his body thrown into the lake. “Aha. Perhaps you taste better than you look, my pretty” he said. He lifted a knife and plunged it into The poor young woman nearly went out of her mind the fish and the squeal that came out of it would with grief. She shut herself up in the castle and was make the blood run cold! There rose up from the not seen, day in, day out. But there appeared in the ground a beautiful young woman in a long white waters of the lake a strange fish, a white trout. dress, with blood running down her arm. Nobody knew where it had come from but the locals said there must be some magic attached to it, so “ Look where you cut me, you villain!” she screamed they left it there to swim in peace, year in, year out. “Look where you cut me!” No hurt nor harm was put on it. The soldier didn’t know what to say or do. There came to that place an army of strangers, determined to teach the people new ways. One “Oh lady, I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know it heard the story of the trout and decided to catch it was you!” and cook it and eat it, just for sport. The trout knew no fear and took the bait. The soldier pulled it from 3 “Why couldn’t you leave me alone? I’m there to do As for the soldier, he was changed man. He shut my duty.” himself up in a cave and fasted three times a week. They say he never again ate fish, not even on a “Your duty?” he asked Friday. And he prayed twice a day for the soul of the white trout. “I’m waiting for my own true love. He’s to come to me by water, and if he comes while I’m gone I’ll turn you into a pinkeen! (a wee fish)” “What can I do?” begged the soldier. “Put me back in the water where I belong! “But how can I put such a fine lady into the water?” Suddenly, the lady vanished. There, flapping on the ground, lay the white trout. The soldier scooped it up and slipped it into the water. First the water ran red, and then clear. That fish was left to swim those waters and they say its still there to this day. 4 • Section 2 • The Pooka and The Pump Woman Story By: To put this in to context my grandmother was a fabulous tale teller and had a great skill for keeping John Bustard, Producer, a large number of grandchildren interested and The Irish In Stories enthused on our summer holidays in Donegal. She would basically set up little adventures for us and my Uncle Tommy, who was a fisherman and a farmer at the time would play along because he saw the benefits and richness in the type of experiences we were getting. Who inspired me with stories? I supposed it was a mixture of my Grandmother, her brother (my Uncle Tommy) and my Father’s passion for history and my mothers memory of family history. 5 The second which was an interesting one in that I The Pooka , suppose stories were sometimes constructed to The Pooka is a very famous old Irish tale about a keep us all safe and away from particular things. nightmare pig, this little dark animal could actually Now Ireland’s full of wells and steep crevices and fly. I can always remember being told stories by the various things so my Uncle Tommy and my fireside in my uncles little thatch cottage in Grandmother used to tell us about the Old Pump Donegal, where my grandmother and her four Woman. siblings were born and raised and their families Her name was Rosanna and she lived down a well before them. I can always remember the story about on Rosanna’s Lane which was a couple of hundred the Pooka because we used to stay in a field up the yards up the lane from our house and in some road camping and everytime that I would hear this sense a boundary as to how far as children we story when I would walk up the very dark road should really be going. There was definitely an old (there were no lights on it at all) back up to the well up which was overgrown and so quite campsite I was in absolute fear and trepidation of dangerous from that perspective. So the story goes this pig flying down between my legs and taking me that the old pump woman had had some very bad of on this nightmarish ride. Now if you’re familiar wranglings and had lost her arm and actually had a with Donegal, particularly southwest Donegal it has metal arm and lived down this well. the highest sea clifs in Europe and I cannot imagine a more scary ride than being taken around Basically she sought the souls of young children the coastal areas there and being (fingers crossed) and if they came too close she would pull them dropped of back at home. So, The Pooka was one down into the well and trap them there for all time. story that put absolute fear in my heart! 6 Now the descriptions that my grandparents would put into these stories, still to this day when I walk past Rosanna’s Lane, I am still in fear of my life of the pump woman and where she would be. I think its one of the incredible powers of those descriptions that as a 41-year old adult that I still have difculties walking past that very road. 7 • Section 3 • The Fairy and the Snow Song Story By: a Fairy Thorn Tree and I very, very quickly learned from the very serious noises that my Uncle was Michael Sands, Author making not to go near, look at if possible, certainly not climb or break a branch of a Fairy Thorn Tree or else very bad luck would befall you! So I carry that round with me and it heavily inspires my writing. My original mythological introduction, if you like, occurred when I was about six. My Grandparents house was on the Ryan Road and Mayo Bridge outside Newry and every summer we would go out and help as best we could with hay and moving cattle. My cousins and I were playing just at the top of the Loanan and and at the top of the Loanan was 8 No others were near the weather too wild The Fairy and the Snow Song (M Sands ©) But it delivered no fear to this father and child The crispy night clear as around the snow piled Deep and down low and dark yet light Was the night of the snow and oh what a night Footprints times two they left as they walked When outside they did go and all covered white Words they were few as onward they stalked Then quietly from view though neither had talked The snowflakes whipped and speckled his face His companion tripped in that icy wet place Came an odd sound, small and distressed “On what have you tripped? An untied shoelace?” No source to be found ‘til both were addressed From a hole in the ground! What noise did them test? The answer a smile, young eyes danced in awe Adventure and trial was all that he saw Bent to their knees both looked bemused In each snow pile in air fresh and raw “Was that the breeze?” asked the father confused 9 Then from neither…a sneeze! The child was “A sentence unfair!” said the father at last amused “In a frost bitten lair!” said the youngster aghast “We’ll help!” said the pair.