“Eternal remembrance” – landscapes and memories of the victims of Stalin

I’ve already slipped badly in my 52 posts challenge, so I have some serious catching up to do… Anyway, the article on the BBC website regarding the new plaques to mark Stalin’s victims caught my attention yesterday.

I think it’s impossible not to be moved,  or see the incredible significance of the memorials for the victims of the Starlin era, particularly those placed by the families of those executed at Kommunarka. Equally, I can see why those living in the houses marked by the simple metal plaques are also concerned by what is essentially enshrining their homes to those who lost their lives, but also that they feel it is too “depressing” and “gloomy”, especially to explain to their children.

The act of commemoration, remembrance, and marking of the darker parts of our history is always emotive and fraught with conflict, and I’ll leave that discussion for those better placed than I. However, as a researcher of landscapes what struck me was not only the role of the natural environment in the making of these memorials, but also the temporary nature of them. There is an official memorial at Kommunarka – a cross and stone placed by the Orthodox Church who now control the land – but nothing of the individual ‘shines’ placed in the forest is permanent; the photos tied to trees will fade, disintegrate, and be blown away,  the plastic flowers will fall apart. But what remains is the significance of this place, beyond the last surviving memory – what those responsible for the plaques call the “gathering together” of people to remember and, perhaps most importantly, to learn. In time the personal memories will become stories told, a more distant and removed narrative that reflects the collective loss, but rooted to these places long after the photos have blown away.

There is an evolution of Kommunarka from summer house of Gennrich Yagoda (Stalin’s secret police chief), to a place where thousands lost their lives, to make-shift memorial. These acts tie the individual stories of those involved, both those who were the instigators of the purge, and those who fell victim of it, intrinsically to the place.

Once upon a time…..?

Folklore, and the age and origins of stories, has been very much in the public eye today. Look across twitter, news sites, and other social media you’ll see repeated the fascinating article relating to the research findings of Sara Graça da Silva and Jamshid J. Tehrani relating to the origins of 275 Indo-European fairy tales (if you missed it a summary can be seen here, and the full paper from Royal Society Open Science journal).

The paper is an interesting one, and I would love a chance to discuss it with the authors. I have (more crudely without the use of the Bayesian analysis) seen elements of what they describe as “deep signatures”, indeed last spring I presented at two conferences an example of where stories have evolved and could be ‘regressed’ back (although nothing like the 6,000 years estimated in the Da Silva and Tehrani paper). I think to most lovers of stories the findings of this paper would come as no surprise. Although as a nervy archaeologist I have to admit that I would be hesitant to assign such an early date with confidence, it is not at all inconceivable and I certainly have no doubt of long endurance of key folk motifs and the strength of oral traditions to convey ideas across multiple generations.

But what more could this tell us? The basic driving fears, concerns, and desires present with our ancestors are played out in the stories created, the monster in the dark, the wicked witch. But why where they used in the first place? Is it just a good story, or something more?

My own research interests relating to folklore have really been more than just the stories themselves, but why certain stories survive, and why some are more readily altered and changed, and for what reason; more importantly in what cultural and social environments does this change occur.

I have seen evidence of the use of stories to undermined the validity of certain classes of people by altering stories that have a long antecedence to reflect the political concerns of the time. Folklore coupled with visual archaeological moments acting as a mechanism to convert to new religious teaching (think in the same way as stained glass within a church tells a story).

The voices of the past are echoing out through these stories, and using other sources, be that archaeological, environmental, or historical I believe we can start to tease out far more than just stories of devils and witches, but start to see the perceptions and motivations of those in the past, and bring into focus the storytellers.

Feeling Hag-gard…

I am not feeling at my best at the moment, in fact far from it. So as part of my attempt at rest and recuperation a walk to breathe in the restorative air of Devon’s coastline was in order.

There is something about the whole of the Jurassic Coastline that is amazing, not simply the natural beauty, but also the realisation of the sheer depth of time, and how we are small part of millions of years of activity.

Sidmouth – the location for my walk – is the gateway to the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site, and archaeologically there are signs its long history all over town (indeed a previous walk took in some of the town’s features). The start of today’s walk was Connaught Gardens played a strategic defensive position, the evidence of which can still be seen in the gardens still.

The gardens themselves were a fortification, and a lime kiln, and the evidence for the kiln can still be seen at Jacob’s Ladder (and I can really recommend the cake at the cafe….)

The stormy weather of recent weeks has really played havoc with the coastline, and it took me a while tyo realise that I was standing on top of the promenade’s railings and that the stones had completely covered them!

I also love the graffiti on the cliff. I obviously don’t condone the damage of a World Heritage Site, but I love to see the care taken by people to preserve their presence.

Back on the beach I started to pick up Hag stones, natural perforated stones which have numerous folkloric meanings and associations. Also known as Odin/ adder/ fairies/ holey/Hex stones they are said to have amazing and magical properties.

Hag stones are particularly prevalent in the folk history of the South West of England, and were used to ward off evil spirits, influence by the dead, and witchcraft. In Dorset fishermen used the stones to protect against witches or spirits from boarding the boat. On Dartmoor they were known as Hex stones, and placed on window sills to protect the house.

Hag stones were worn around the neck to ward of the evil eye and spirits, but also illnesses such as plague and whooping cough, and actually thought to be able to cure a whole range of diseases. They were also used as treatment for snake bites. The stones were also able to prevent pixies, fairies and witches from interfering with livestock, in particular effecting the milk of cattle. If hung over a bed or round a bed post, it would stop Succubus or other such nightmares harming the occupant while they slept.

Moreover it is often said that if you look through the hole of a Hag stone you can see fae creatures such as fairies and pixies, or malevolence that had concealed itself from view.

Maybe I should start wearing one, I might gain some benefit from its protective and magical nature!

The Changling Wassail

Very occasionally the activities of my Changling – little un – and my love of folklore collide. Today is one such day.

I get very little out of them usually, partly because they’re six, partly due to their condition, but usually it comes in the most surprising ways. Today, at bedtime, they drew a picture of what happened in forest school – a wassail!

Held on the 12th Night (what was celebrated in SW of England traditionally on the 17th January) and named after Old Norse ves heil and the Old English was hál: ‘be you healthy’, communities would gather around the trees to ensure a good apple crop.

Toast drenched in cider was hung in the tree, and in more recent times I’ve heard stories of the crowd taking pot shots at the toast with shotguns to try and knock it out of the tree – all while drinking cider…

Obviously little un’s Wassail was a more sober affair, but I was told how a king and queen were chosen and they had to make loud noises to “drive away the bad spirits”. By all accounts my little changling was good at this part, and made sure they “went back twice” to make noise to help the trees.

I love the fact a new generation of Devonian children are learning this, around their own school apple trees.

A New Year Challange (reviving the Folklore Magpie)

For various reasons this blog has been neglected a little bit of late (and this post was actually started on New Year’s Day…), but I am pretty pleased that I’ve managed a good number of posts in 2015, and they seem to have well received, and actually read – which still comes as a bit of a surprise to me.

I have a long way to go before I reach the sort of viewing numbers of fantastic blogs such as Howard Williams’ Archaeodeath (which totted up a staggering over 46,700 views in 2015, over 200 posts), nor am I as elegant or prolific in my writing. That said I am feeling the need to get writing again.

So I’ve set myself a little challenge – at least 1 post a week, every week, for 2016. It must be folklory, landscapy, archaeology based (preferably all three!) and related in some way with the week, or what I’m doing. By the end of the year I should have 52 shiny new posts… well that’s the idea…

To start off, as I was writing this on New Year’s Day I thought I’d focus on a piece of domestic folklore that my gran always says – never wash clothes on NYD as you’ll wash someone out of the family.

To be fair, this piece of lore has been extended to Good Friday and a few other days too – but the New Year one seems to be prevalent (in the UK seemingly mostly in the Midlands where I originate, and Scotland)

There are a number of dos and don’ts relating to New Year, the first people entering your house have a bearing on your fortune, nothing must leave the house or it’ll bring bad luck, and noise must be made to drive away spirits from the house as midnight strikes.

But although I don’t subscribe to the washing thing (I’ve two little uns after all), and have seemingly got away with it so far, I always have the slight element of guilt about it. I can’t seem to find any origins for it – so folklory people I would be interested to know…

Finding Black Annis

Anyone who knows me through twitter will have seen my favourite thing at the minute is Poly-Olbion project Map currently on display at the University of Exeter.

Like with any map, I did the usual thing of finding home, both physical and ‘spiritual’. I searched the upside down map of Britain (the first thing that struck me was how difficult it is to navigate around an upside world!) and came to the midlands. Nestled near to the reference to Richard III was a small warning triangle with “Black Annis” underneath.

So, if they know nothing else, any child who has grown up in Leicester/Leicestershire will probably know 3 stories; the legend of Old John, the ghost story of Lady Jane Grey (both coincidently located at Bradgate Park), and the warnings about being eaten by Black Annis…

The Black Annis legend is thought first appeared in print in 1797 through a poem by John Heyrick, it was brought to popular consciousness again in 1874 when the Leicester Chronicle ran a piece about her:

“Little children who went to run on the Dane Hills, were assured that she lay in wait there, to snatch them away to her ‘bower’ where she scratched them to death with her claws, sucked their blood, and hung up their skins out to dry.”

Annis was supposed to haunt/hunt in the area around St. Mary de Castro Church, and have tunnels to Leicester Castle. She was still said to roam long after her cave was filled in and a housing estate was constructed just after WWI on meadows she was reported to frequent.

There are fantastic stories (which can be found in Katharine Briggs’ Dictionary of British Folktales and Legends: Narratives) of evacuees recalling the screams of Annis, and some houses putting “witch-herbs” on the frames of windows and doors to stop her long arms reaching in and stealing sleeping babies.

As a child I often wondered why this witchy creature was called Black Annis, when she was supposed to be blue with iron claws (claws that were supposed to have scratched out the cave under Danes Hill where she was supposed to dwell), and as an undergraduate I also knew of students who quickened up around the area of the church “just in case…”.

The Annis figure has turned up in comics and computer games in recent years, and has become, in this sense, a folk motif all of its own.

There are lots of books, articles, and webpages retelling the story, and looking into its origin, be it an anchoress discredited during the Reformation by protestant reformists (see Ronald Hutton’s The Triumph of the Moon: A History of Modern Pagan Witchcraft), to ancient ‘celtic’ goddess. I won’t repeat those here, but whatever she was or has become, her presence is well and truly confirmed.

It might be worth still walking quickly around St. Mary de Castro’s… just in case…

Beyond Changlings – some thoughts on autism in folklore

Not really a landscape focus this one, but just something I’ve been musing over for a while.

My eldest, Little Un, is currently awaiting a formal diagnosis of “high functioning” Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). As we struggle to fully understand the condition with all the knowledge and support networks, I’ve often wondered how such individuals were explained and understood in the past. I will flag now I’m still learning the correct terminology when talking about autism, so if I don’t get it quite right forgive me.

Ironically, I’ve always called Little Un a changeling due to their inability to sleep as a child (the days I went to work on 1 hours sleep are more numerous than I can mention), and much of identification of autism in the past focuses on Changlings – mostly coming from Leask et al’s short report from 2005 [1].

Julie Leask (who, at the time of writing her paper, was based at the National Centre for Immunisation Research and Surveillance of Vaccine Preventable Diseases in New South Wales, Australia) was looking into the unfounded allegation of a link between MMR and autism, and was one of the key researchers who linked Changling folklore to the condition.

Changlings are left by fairies who had taken human babies back to their world. Often they are described as made of wood or clay (often associated in modern day medical terms as describing a Sudden Infant Death) or disfigured and unresponsive sickly fairy child. Folklore tells us that the fairies needed human children to maintain their existence; and in some stories, it is said that the fae are unable to have healthy (or even) children of their own.

What is left in the human world is a half child, seemingly uncommunicative and lacking the ability to express emotion, given to unexplained crying, and often unable to speak.

Leask et al describe how the children could seemingly change: “Some of the features of these stories, including the initial health and beauty of the human child, the change after some period of ‘‘normalcy’’, and the specific behaviours of the changeling … are well matched to symptoms in some presentations of autism”.

I find the Changling story fascinating, and long before I had the personal interest thought its association with autism compelling.

However, what is described above only goes a small way in explaining the types of children, who obviously grow up into adults, on the autistic spectrum. What about those, like Little Un, who are seemingly ‘normal’ on casual acquaintance, but can exhibit extreme changes in behaviour?

One story keeps coming back to me, its a piece of English folklore relating to the man who took a fairy wife (I’ve also seen the same story in Scottish folklore told as a mermaid wife, and think it works just as well).

In the story, the man, a respected farmer but long time bachelor, meets a beautiful girl, who turns out to be a fairy. Falling in love with her, he seeks advice on how to claim her as his wife. He was told that if he performs a ritual at midnight she will become human and he can marry her. However, the man is warned not to strike his wife more than three times otherwise she’ll return to her fairy state (sometimes these old stories are hard on our modern standards of what would constitute too many times to hit your wife…. But still).

The farmer laughed and said he could see no reason why he would need to control his wife in such a way and carries out the ritual. Sure enough, the next day the former fairy arrives at his farm and they are swiftly married.

All was okay at first, but soon the farmer noticed his new bride would be distant and unresponsive, she would be prone violent outbursts and foul language, which would come on without warning, and meant that on three occasions he had to strike her to bring her to her senses.

The respected gentleman also found his new wife embarrassing in public, often speaking out of turn to strangers, or ignoring them completely. Things finally came to a head as the couple attended a funeral and the girl laughed uncontrollably. Angered and embarrassed the man struck his wife a forth, and final time. She returned back to her kind and he was alone again.

This story echoes a number of the ‘symptoms’ often associated with conditions on the autistic spectrum like Asperger’s. I’m wondering if such stories that describe such interactions with fairies, merpeople and the like are describing such things.

These are just the muddled thoughts of a tired mum trying to make sense it all, but there could be something in these stories that give clues to how the condition was explained in the past; when the Changling grows up and tries to fit into the world.

[1] Leask, J, Leask, A, Silove, N. 2005 Evidence for autism in folklore? Arch Dis Child; 90: 271.

Place, Archaeology, and Petrification Myths (a #FolkloreThursday magpie request)

A couple of months ago I presented my finding relating to folklore mapping to a couple of conferences (‘Masculinities in the landscape’ in absentia, and ‘archaeology and the map – critique and practice’ in slightly shambling person).

One of the key findings relates to petrification myths; where individuals have been turned to stone (by the devil or similar, depending on the age of the story), and used as creation stories for megaliths and other prehistoric landscapes.

The mapping of such folkloric motifs in the South West of England (Cornwall to Wiltshire), has enabled concentrations of story types to be identified, allowing further investigation into why such myths occur in specific places.

I’m really interested in collecting other folklore relating to people being turned to stone, the monuments the stories relate to, and the people referred to in the tale, in order to test and expand on my ideas (which I’m happy to share in a separate post, if anyone is at all interested).

Please get in touch with me if you know of any such stories. My folklore magpie tendencies is really interested in finding new things!

#FolkloreThursday – how did i miss that? (and the confessions of a folklore fraud)

I’ve been living in a twitter cave or something, as I have managed to completely miss #folkloreThursday. Oh and it’s wonderful, the folklore magpie I am is loving it all. But aside from this post I won’t be joining in – yet… Let me explain the root of my anxiety (as part apology and part explanation!)

I’m always slightly nervous at speaking up at folklory thing – not through any pretention on my part, but more the opposite. I feel a bit of an upstart fraud. Y’know the type, those people who breeze around pretending to be knowledgeable about a subject and are mostly just “empty vessels” as my gran would say. I hope I’m not seen like that – but it’s always a worry of a slightly neurotic person.

I’m not in any way a folklore expert, I’m following the worn path of those who love it but are utterly self-trained in the subject and I’m picking up things as I go along, I started incorporating it into my archaeological research in 2001 while working on a souterrain site in Northern Ireland.

The fairies… the place of full of them the old boy farmer was certain of it. He had been sure long before their dwelling place had been discovered. The folklore indicated where the archaeology was after the remains had been forgotten.

And I loved it. I loved what the stories were telling me about my site, the rituals that people confided in me while I was there because I was happy to listen to their folk beliefs.

From that point on it became a real part of my archaeological life, so much so I was actually on a number of occasions introduced as “the girl who talks about fairies”.

But over the years in academic circles I’ve come up against a lot of criticism and stick for studying folklore. I’ve had my research dismissed, I’ve had it described a pointless.

It’s becoming recognised now as a legitimate piece of material culture and source, and I’m glad to have in my own small way perhaps helped to beat that path, but it wasn’t pleasant at the start of my own academic journey.

More to the point it’s lead me to meet some amazingly interesting people, and I’ve learnt so much about my adopted home in the South-West through it.

But I never call myself a folklorist. As my twitter biog will testify, I am an archaeologist who studies folklore – often probably very badly. It’s the same reason I’ve never dared join the folklore society…

So #FolkloreThurday I’m so glad I’ve found you (and I thank the wonderful folklorist Mark Norman for the tip off on his FB page), but I’ll probably hide in my cave behind this blog for a while 🙂

30 Wild Days: day 30 – the end is nigh

So the final day, and I made it to the end.  There were a few multiple entries but not too bad overall considering I did put added pressure on myself by saying I’d add the folklore to the nature I found. And it was genuinely that way, the wildlife led the post, and some did require a bit of researching!!

Tonight I watched a little wood mouse run around the garden. I couldn’t get a shot so this will be the only picture-less post. I guess fitting in some ways.

If a mouse is heard to squeak near an ill person it will foretell their death, also they’re rumoured to be a cure for baldness…

I am going to miss this…