Episode 5 Santer

Hello and welcome to Santer.

Coming up on the programme,

the Low Country Boys find out about the "herring fever" in Portavogie.

There was only one cure,

the herring brocht, that cured the fever.

It come out of the water - it wasn't in a pill.

Mark Wilson travels to the South Island

on his journey in New Zealand.

We are in Killinchy?

We are in Killinchy and it was named after its namesake in County Down.

We pay another visit to a Reading House from the 1800s.

These poets are part of our literary and cultural history

of the people here within the North of Ireland.

And Liam Logan chats to Elaine Agnew about her BBC Proms

composition that was inspired by the dark hedges near Stranocum.

Every night there's the Grey Lady comes and she whooshes

and streams her way through the trees.

So, with that image comes fabulous, kind of, atmospheric sounds.

But, to start off with,

music from Session Beat.

Reading Houses provided the country folk

with a lot of their entertainment in the early 1800s,

and yinst again we're going to go back in time

to hear some of the poetry

that would have been read at these gatherings.

NO AUDIBLE DIALOGUE

Well, essentially, Reading Houses were very much a time for people

to get together socially,

so, in a way, I think it's good

to think about it in terms of almost like getting together now

in a coffee shop or in a pub.

A lot of them would have been reading the local poetry of the day,

very much the poets that were writing in the Ulster-Scots vernacular.

James Orr,

The Irish Cottier's Death and Burial.

"Erin! My country! preciously adorn'd

"With every beauty, and with every worth,

"Thy grievances..."

James Orr was involved in the United Irish Rebellion,

so within this poem, he talks about a cottier who is dying from pleurisy.

So, it moves through very much four stages.

We have the suffering of the man, his last words to his family,

his wake and then his burial.

But what Orr is doing, very much, is showing the poverty

and the marginalisation that these northern people suffered.

"But more unblest, oppression, want, and dearth,

"Did during life, distressfully attend

"The poor neglected native of thy North,

"Whose fall I sing."

So, what we get, although it's a death of one man in this poem,

it very much reflects, I think Orr was trying to say,

almost the death of a community.

Because what we get here is Ireland, very much,

and these people on the brink of disaster, almost,

that Orr hopes won't happen.

"And aft his thoughts are by delirium thrall'd,

"Yet while he raves, he prays in words weel wal'd,

"An' mutters through his sleep o truth an' right

"An' after pondering deep, the weans are tald

"The readiest way he thinks they justly might

"Support themsels thro' life, when he shall sink in night.

Somebody would have read a poem,

and then someone else, probably, or a couple of people,

I'm sure, would have argued over the meaning of that poem.

It would have certainly caused debate within the room

and, again, that's the sign of a great poet.

"Wi' heck weel-teeth'd and spit renew'd,

"I sat me down to spin contented,

"And your address to me reviewed,

"Which set my head amaist demented."

What we see with Leech is that her poetry often deals with nature

and with religious matters, but within this poem,

the Epistle to Mr Richard Ramsay,

Sarah Leech shows very much a pro-feminist engagement,

with the authority of the male poet.

So, Richard Ramsay has written a poem about her

and this is her response to him.

"I am unskill'd in classic lord,

"Tho' I sometimes mak' Scotch clink pat in -

"Nae authors sage can I explore,

"Like those who speak the Greek and Latin."

So, she's very cutting in what she says, she's very sarcastic,

and I think she's trying to show that women can do this,

you know, this isn't just the domain of the men.

"And as you wish I may get wealth,

"I, in return, pray you'll grow wiser."

Still, today, a lot of people are not aware that these poets existed,

and I think this is something that needs to be addressed

because these poets are part of our literary and cultural history

of the people here within the North of Ireland.

You know, they were writing in the language of their day

and when we look at the like of James Orr, or Thomson, or Huddleston,

or Hugh Porter, we see how fantastic these poets were,

that they actually had a voice

and they had something important to say.

The Low Country Boys are based in Ards,

and twa of their members, Ivan McFerran and Gibson Young,

hae a keen interest in the history frae around the peninsula.

Is it OK if I take this map down, John?

Bring that old map down, Ivan - it's 1608,

it's the oldest map I ever seen of Ulster.

This is a wild interesting map, Gibson.

I stumbled on this one day

when John and I were talking

about other things. Mm-hm.

This is one of the last hand-drawn maps of Ulster.

And it was drawn as you would have seen it, by the eye.

That's why it's not to scale.

One of the last hand-drawn maps

before James I sent over proper cartographers.

1608, I see at the bottom here. 1608.

Well, wasn't it 1606 when Montgomery and those boys came here?

Aye, something like that.

But the interesting thing I like about it is the Peninsula, here,

where we're at - and in 1608, as the date is on it,

the peninsula was divided in two by the Blackstaff River.

That's running from the Saltwater Brig out there to Portavogie, really.

Right. And it was a swampland but it was tidal as well.

When the tide was full in, the level rose. Right, it came up.

So, it's very interesting...

I've never seen a map like that anywhere.

Well, if this place was to go on fire,

that's the first thing I would run in to save, is that map.

For I have seen nothing like it, ever anywhere,

and I'm always on the lookout, and I've never seen one as old as that.

We're coming across Jimmy's spud field here just outside Cloughey

and we're coming to a very interesting site -

it's some sort of a chamber or a tunnel, probably from smuggling days

or from the days of persecution, and that sort of thing.

So you're telling me, Jimmy, that pile of stones there,

that is the mouth or the entrance into the chamber or tunnel?

That's right. Years ago, there was an opening there,

I would say it was six foot square.

But the tunnel that went this way, that enters into it,

was only 15 to 18 inches, and you had to crawl into it. Yeah.

And it would go in about, well, about 25 to 30 yards.

It ran from there in that direction there.

Whenever we were kids, we weren't allowed to go into it.

I heard different stories about it, that it was for hiding people in.

Gibson, have you ever heard anything about this story?

About this tunnel? Aye.

I remember my ma telling me about it when I was a wean.

We'd be riding by here on a Sunday afternoon, she'd say,

"There's lands up there and a tunnel and stuff."

I was aye mad to come up to it to see it, but I was never allowed.

If I'd been there, I know I'd have been in it!

I heard that you had given the smuggling up, but?

Sssh, dinnae tell that to the customs man, for dear sake!

Portavogie has a long association

with fishing and fisherman

and, Sam, the herring fishing would have been the bee's knees,

and if you didn't get that, you were in trouble, then?

Oh, you were in trouble and...

they used to take a sort of an illness,

and they brought it on themselves - a sort of psychological thing.

If they didn't catch any herring,

they caught this illness they called the fever.

Herring fever, this is? Herring fever.

The captain would get it first

and then it would go through the crew

and it would even go into the family.

You had to walk home by the shore,

you weren't allowed to walk home by the road

because there were certain people you couldn't meet.

And there were certain things you couldn't say.

And it went into the house and it brought hell round the house,

so the children couldn't play.

If the cat would purr, it would get threw out the door.

And it went to the boat and they got suspicious of the crew,

that there was maybe a Jonah in among them.

You hoped it wasn't you, because...

You showed them your hair - if it was darker than brown, that was OK.

But it took a long time for this to go away.

There was only one cure -

the herring brocht, that cured the fever.

It came out of the water, it wasn't in a pill,

the fever was lifted and the fisherman standing.

Now we're going to join Mark Wilson again as he continues to look at

the history of the migration of Ulster-Scots to New Zealand.

The story of the Ulster-Scots migration to New Zealand

is a fascinating one.

There were settlements to both the North and the South islands.

Having left Auckland, I have now moved to the South Island

towards the city of Christchurch.

But my first port of call

is to the farmland and countryside

about 20 miles to the south of Christchurch,

into an area that many people from County Down emigrated in the 1800s.

It's got a kind of a familiar look about it.

Lyndon, this could be like walking down a road at home, you know,

with the flat land, the cows in the fields and the sheep

and even the layout of the field - it's a bit like walking down a road

in the Ards Peninsula.

But, then again, we are in Killinchy!

We are in Killinchy, and it was named after its namesake

in County Down, and it reminds me very much of that area, actually.

You've been over to County Down and Ulster a few times -

but that's all part of your interest,

and not just your interest, but part of your work as well?

It is - it's part of my research interests,

and I've got family connections that go back to County Down as well,

so there's that side of it as well,

it's an all-consuming passion, really,

and Ulster's been a big part of that.

There's a lot more known about the migration of the Ulster people

to the North Island, to Katikati and the Bay of Plenty area,

but less known about them coming here to the South Island.

They came here really early, and if we think back,

the Nelson settlement at the top of the South Island was 1840.

Dunedin and Otago, the 1840s, Canterbury, 1850 -

and there were Ulster people coming as early as that,

in big numbers to these places.

And, of course, I mean, this area that we're standing in, Killinchy,

today, it looks very like home...

It does. But was it like that when these people arrived?

Did they settle here because it looked like home?

Or did they make it like home?

They made it like home. It did not look like this,

the flat countryside.

It was swampland and it was full of tussock and cabbage trees,

and they had to drain the swamps

in order to make the land look like this.

So the people who were bringing skills from Ulster to here

were exactly the kind of people needed to make this into farmland.

One of the reasons why they were particularly keen,

this is the State Agencies,

were keen on bringing people out from Ulster who were family units,

is because the women were particularly hard workers,

and knew how to work in a rural area

and deal with the isolation and do the kinds of tasks that you

needed to make a living on land like this.

Are those family ties still here and evident and known by the people

in this area today, and is it something they celebrate,

and something they feel part of?

They do, this is what surprised me in doing fieldwork here,

was talking to so many of the families,

because I assumed that they would have long forgotten

their Ulster roots.

But they haven't, they've kept diaries and letters

and material objects that people brought out in the 1850s and 1860s,

so there's still a really strong sense of connection

to Killinchy in County Down and its surrounding areas from here.

And so the Ulster-Scots have been coming here for 150 years,

and they still are today - just like a friend of mine from Ballyclare,

who also happens to be a drummer.

James Laughlin, you're an Ulsterman from Ballyclare

but you've moved a long way away from there now.

Absolutely, Mark - I'm down here in Christchurch, New Zealand,

teaching pipe band drumming,

incredible. I mean...

the first time that I met you - it's...

phew, quite a number of years ago now, James! It would be, aye!

And you were a little tiny boy at that stage,

I think I was the first drumming judge you played in front of.

You've moved on a bit since that,

and you've certainly won plenty of prizes since that.

I started drumming at Ballyclare Primary School,

my local primary school, under Winston Pollock.

He got me started, and I moved on to Monkstown Mossley, then.

Obviously Winston was working with the Monkstown Mossley Band.

At that point they thought it would be a good idea

for me to head over to Bathgate

for the World Solo Juvenile Championships.

What age was that, James? Um, I'd have been 13.

So you were a world champion at 13. Yep.

You are now teaching at St Andrew's College here in Christchurch?

That's right, yeah.

I'm very lucky to be a part of the pipe band programme

here at St Andrew's College.

The College was founded in 1916,

and in 1919, they formed the first pipe band,

so there's a long history of Scottish culture and music here.

And they really embrace it,

and I've been able to create my own drumming programme here,

and we've been taking the students to the World Championships

every three years now, over in Glasgow.

How do they enjoy this trip, and playing back in the home countries?

Well, for them, it's such an epic experience to go to the homeland

of a musical instrument that they're passionate about

here in New Zealand.

And a lot of the children have that background,

Irish and Scottish background in their families,

and the families obviously want to connect

with that history and heritage.

How do children in New Zealand react to being taught pipe band drumming

by someone not from Scotland but from Northern Ireland?

Well, I think they find it really quite intriguing.

The first barrier

is usually that they don't understand a word I'm saying.

THEY LAUGH

So I've to slow everything down, pronounce all my "ings"

and so forth, but I think generally I've a great rapport with the kids,

and they have a lot of fun. It's all about the music, for them.

So, coming from Northern Ireland, I think it's just a bit quirky

and it gives them a good giggle, but it works out well.

So you don't get the chance to speak much Ulster-Scots

with them here, then?

I do every now and then, but they usually think it's a profanity,

they don't really understand what I'm saying, so...

I usually refrain!

We'll be back wi' Mark next week

as his journey comes to an end in Dunedin.

Fermanagh Ulster-Scots Empowerment, or FUSE, was recently set up

with aims to develop and strengthen the Ulster-Scots culture

across all ages in County Fermanagh.

It recently organised a poetry initiative in primary schools.

Young Abby frae Kesh Primary School was yin o the weans that took part,

and she learned a poem about baking wi' her granny.

"Me and my granny.

"Me and my granny like to bake a soda farl,

"Or a birthday cake wi a weethin o this,

"And wi a weethin o thon.

"And sometimes currants if we're makin' a scone.

"There's pancakes and fadge, coming het off the griddle,

"And Granny aye checks that they're hard in the middle.

"But the best bit of all, before gaun into the town,

"Is when my granny lets me lick the baking spoon."

FLUTE TRILLS

The Dark Hedges are nearhan Stranocum in County Antrim

and it was these trees that provided the inspiration for local composer,

Elaine Agnew, when she was scrieving a new orchestral piece

for the BBC Proms, to be performed in the Albert Hall.

Elaine, you hae brought me here to the Dark Hedges in North Antrim,

and a beautiful day it is too.

Yeah, well it's - I think even in this kind of weather,

the hedges look incredibly, kind of, mysterious,

so I think that really adds to the atmosphere of the place.

So the Dark Hedges were inspirational to yourself?

Oh, absolutely.

Whenever the BBC approached me about writing a piece for the Proms

earlier this year, they said,

"We want a piece for two orchestras for Sir James Galway."

And then they phoned me about a week later to say,

"Oh, Elaine, we're going to print the Programme Note,"

because they bring out this very detailed brochure,

"We need a title for your piece."

So this was like kind of months before my deadline

and I hadn't a clue what I was going to write the piece about.

And around that time I was in Dublin

and it was whenever the Northern Ireland Tourist Board

were doing a big publicity campaign.

And as part of that they used this fabulous huge poster of these trees,

and it was only when I was in Connolly Station in Dublin,

going up to the poster and reading it, it just said,

"The Dark Hedges near Stranocum."

I'm from that part of the world

and I had no idea that they were from here.

So as soon as I did a little bit of research and found out,

and thought, "Dark Hedges, wouldn't that be a great title for a piece?"

So that's how that all came about.

Whenever we performed in the Royal Albert Hall,

like, I had up to 180 musicians, but I've re-orchestrated sections of it

just for three musicians featuring harp, percussion and flute.

Now, the piece, it's a scary piece to me.

There's a lot of atmosphere in it.

I think when you look at the Dark Hedges,

and the stories associated with it,

that every night there's the Grey Lady comes,

she whooshes and streams her way through the trees.

She goes up one side and down the other side -

and so, with that image,

comes fabulous, kind of, atmospheric sounds.

There's a great energy here.

I love the density of the trees and the way that the trees meet

and they overlap and they intertwine,

and all of that's so musical. I mean, I think it's really joyful

and it's stunningly, stunningly beautiful.

How many of the clan Agnew managed ower to the Royal Albert Hall?

Yeah, well, my mum made it over

and my brother and two sisters flew out on the day.

Unfortunately, my dad wasn't able to make it.

I mean he's a good Kilwaughter man.

And, of course, the Agnew clan are great speakers of Ulster-Scots.

Oh, yeah. My dad has featured with you

on a few of the Kist o Wurds programmes,

and taken you to Mounthill Fair and things.

Well Elaine...it's a miserable day,

and it's getting dark, but there's nae doubt about it,

the Dark Hedges are mysterious and inspirational

even on a dreigh oul' day like today.

Yeah, you're absolutely right, Liam.

Earlier in the programme, Mark Wilson was in Killinchy

in Christchurch, named of course after Killinchy in County Down.

And I hae come here to Killinchy to meet with Willie McIlwrath

who has a collection of letters sent back frae New Zealand

by his great-uncles in the mid 1800s.

William, we hae this fantastic book here

about the letters that came the whole way frae New Zealand

back to here. You hae a great collection of them.

The letters, which were kept in the Balloo family home

had been passed down through generations and had been kept.

Well, this collection, William, spans about, what, 70 years?

It does indeed.

And it's absolutely great to hae these handwritten original letters.

I picked out yin that I'm just going to read a wee slip of.

Your Great-Great-Uncle James says,

"The people is surely getting scarce at hame

"and there's so many coming here,

"it's almost a ship every week that comes in".

So, the folk must have been going out in their droves, really?

Yes, well, both James and Hamilton

would always have talked in the letters

about different people they'd met from here on a regular basis.

Even neighbours round Killinchy, Saintfield, Comber, Newtownards -

just different families which had moved out to New Zealand.

And then this is where they lived in New Zealand?

This was where one of the families lived in New Zealand, yes,

Hamilton, I think that was.

And really brave and similar to what they left, here?

It is, very similar, yes. Mm-hm.

Well, their Mammy sent them out a parcel, of course,

the two boys, with folk that were emigrating out there -

and this is a lovely bit in the book

where the boys return a letter to say thanks.

"We return you our sincerest thanks, Mother,

"for the parcel you sent by them.

"It wakens up to remembrance of former times

"and shows proof positive that though we are far distant,

"we are not by all forgotten.

"Seas may divide and oceans roll between,

"but Friends is Friends whatever intervene."

Isn't that gorgeous, William? That is a lovely letter, like.

Well, William, this is truly an amazing book

and I'm sure there's loads of folk out there

would love an insight into what life was like

baith on the journey to New Zealand and life while they were there.

If somebody wanted it, where would they get it?

You would get that in the Killyleagh Historical Society

in Killyleagh, County Down.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the programme.

We're going to finish it off now

with a lovely ballad frae Eilidh Patterson.

Cheerio.

# They call thee fickle

# They call thee false

# They seek to change me

# But all in vain

# Thou art my true love

# Yet through the dark night

# And every morning

# I scan the main

# Fhir a' bhata

# 'S na ho ro eile

# Fhir a' bhata

# 'S na ho ro eile

# Fhir a' bhata

# 'S na ho ro eile

# So fare thee well, love

# Where'er thou be. #

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd