You’ll Never Waulk Alone…: Difference between revisions
(Created page with "<center><h1>You’ll Never Waulk Alone…</h1> '''(Published in the Summer AS XXVI issue of the Ars Caidis, Issue #2)''' <big>'''By Jennet Jowan Truro'''</big> (wit...") |
mNo edit summary |
||
Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
<center>[[File:Illust for Jennet.jpg|600px]]</center> | |||
<center><h1>You’ll Never Waulk Alone…</h1> | <center><h1>You’ll Never Waulk Alone…</h1> | ||
Latest revision as of 17:49, 16 October 2022
You’ll Never Waulk Alone…
(Published in the Summer AS XXVI issue of the Ars Caidis, Issue #2)
(with many, many thanks to Seamus Duran and Gerald Jones, Gaelic speakers and singers, for most of this information)What’s that strange noise coming from yonder group of womenfolk? Chanting, wailing, hands banging on a table or in the ground, twisting, and beating a piece of cloth – what are they doing? Don’t worry; that’s just the Scots lasses giving a demonstration of waulking, the old process of hand-milling cloth. In the Lowlands and the more developed areas, the process was mechanized centuries ago, but in the more primitive Gaelic-speaking areas where people made their own cloth, it continued as one of the great communal activities of the women, down almost to the present day.
The word, “waulking” is English, coming from an old Anglo-Saxon word for “roll” or “toss.” In Irish Gaelic the event is called a ”reambru,” and the process is more frequently done by men. But there is something special, almost ritualistic, about the song tradition that grew up around the Highland women’s “luadh,” and that’s what we are trying to show here.
A little background on waulking. When cloth first comes off the loom, it is not yet ready to wear. Even close weaving leaves an uneven surface, and there are spaces between the yarns that might let wind and water through. Waulking (also called “fulling” or “tucking”) the cloth makes it tighter, smoother and less pervious to the blustery climate. If you’ve ever put wool cloth in the washing machine, even in cold water, you have seen what the agitation will do. It fluffs out the fibers from the yearn and mats or felts them slightly, while shrinking the whole piece and brings the yarns closer together. This makes it easier to put a nap or other finish on the cloth.
Each piece of cloth was different in length, weight, weave and degree of fulling required. Sometime several pieces would be waulked on the same day, but in any case, a regular festival was made out of the event. While the matrons examined the cloth, and the more experienced ones determined how many songs would be required to finish the piece, the maidens filled a tub with a soaking solution, usually containing stale urine which was a good source of ammonia. The cloth was well-trampled and soaked while the waulking table was set up. If available, a strong door was taken off its hinges and laid on trestles. Then the fabric was laid on the table, the women, perhaps a dozen, sat around it, and the work commenced.
Strong hands beat, pulled, wrung and tumbled the cloth, back and forth across the table and up and down its length, to the rhythm of forceful songs. These were no pretty little love songs nor meandering laments, but sturdy, unison-sung work chants. One strong voice would line out the lead part, then all the women would join in the “hi-ho-ro” choruses. The solo or verse parts were usually done in short phrases, often with the verses “interlocked” by repeating lines from verse to verse. They told tales of noble lovers, elegant ships, and wealth of cattle – very medieval themes. When the women’s spirits were high and work nearing an end, the singers might begin to include verses of their own making, lampooning or complaining about their husbands.
After a piece of cloth had been hand-waulked for a while, it might require still more vigorous working. The “foot-waulking,” or luadh-chas, was left to the younger women. They would put the walking surface on the ground, sit around it with their skirts tucked up, and (still singing) kick the cloth rhythmically, working it around, back and forth, eventually up into the air in a ball. Sometimes the young men would try to get close for a peek; they were chased away, and if caught were thrown in and kicked with the cloth (remember what the stuff was soaked in!). After the waulking was done, the cloth was beaten with open hands, and shaken out by an old woman. A charm was said to keep evil forces from having any power over it.
Roinn a b-aon, roin a dha,
a tri, roinn a ceithir,
a coig, roin a sia, roin a seachd,
Cha n-aodach seo a shagart no chleir…
After this the cloth was rinsed in the burn, then spread out to dry. Nest the men stretched and rolled it onto a narrow board, where it was left for several days to make it smooth and stiff. At last the fabric was considered “fior-aodach” or ”true cloth” and was welcomed with high-spirited “clapping songs”.
Thus the whol process of finishing the cloth was accomplished with song. The songs have Gaelic words and are associated with the most Celtic area of Scotland – the Hebrides – yet, strangely enough, the particular style of the waulking songs appears no where else in the Celtic world, and may have pre-Celtic origins. The tradition of strong women’s songs sung in unison (rather than solo or in harmonics) is associated world-wide with matrilineal cultures, those which hand down family affiliation, possessions, and special knowledge through the female line of descent. We know that the Picts, the ancient inhabitants of Scotland, were matrilineal. These and men’s work songs such as rowing songs may be a last heritage from these otherwise vanished people We will probably never know for sure.
Wherever it came from, the tradition has proven strong enough to survive into modern times, and long enough for many of these songs to be recorded. Even though Highlanders now buy most of their cloth ready-made, the songs continue to be sung as folk songs by the younger Gaelic speakers, and as museum pieces by those demonstrating the living history of the Highlands. The songs add a wonderful dimension to craft exhibits, and people in the audience seem to enjoy learning the choruses and singing along, perhaps even joining in or around a waulking table.
If you are interested in ancient crafts and lore, seek out your local Scots tribes women and join in for a few good songs.
(Editor’s note: Jennet Jowan Truro, is an accomplished singer and recently won the Gaelic division of a Scottish song competition in Hunting Beach. Jennet is hosting Scottish folk singing sessions, see the Announcements Section of the Ars Caidis for more information.)