Scéalta Shamhna
by Sam Yada Cannarozzi

hese interestingly sounding strange words make up the name of Dublin’s annual storytelling festival which is booked as "Stories in November," November being the "dark month." But you might also interpret the name as "month of good/bad witch stories," for Irish folklore and myth is vast and deep, and the River Liffey runs to the sea.

It was a real pleasure to return to Ireland for a second time upon the invitation of Nuala Hayes of the Two Chairs Theater Compagny who organizes Scéalta Shamhna. This year’s theme was international in scope with eleven performances presenting storytellers and musicians from China, India, the Caribbean, Europe and the United States. And it was my privilege to inaugurate the festival with Jaqui Chan of Chineese patentage born in Trinidad, at present a Londoner. Given that my family is from Sicily and Croatia and that my wife is from Denmakr, and that we live in France, Jaqui and I were almost all by ourselves a full-blown melting pot. But we were joined by one of Ireland’s premiere flutists, Desi Wilkinson, whose enchanting melodies and bonhommie rounded out our kick-off evening in the ballroom of the National Museum of Ireland at Collin’s Barracks. And the River Liffey runs to the sea...

Besides school performances and small workshops, the festival continues over three weekends, with all the performances at the prestigious Museum of Ireland in among the exhibitions. This is a clllaboration with Helen Beaumont who is responsible for activities at the Nuseum. The building, which dates back to the 18th century, has just been refurbished and the objects which look out at you can be from local tradition or from halfway around the world.

On Saturday night I was free, so I marched on over to Duke Street in Dublin, past Bewley’s Pub, where four years ago we concluded the festival with Scottish traveller storyteller Duncan Williamson and musicians from the hit musical River Dance. Fond memories. Duke Street is the starting point for the esteemed Literary Pub Crawl, where for two and a half hours, between pints of Guiness, we were lolled and charmed with texts of Irish writers from Oscar Wilde and William Butler Yates through Beckett, Joyce and other contemporaries. Refreshing to say the least. And the River Liffey...

Sunday was to be the first grand finale. While Jaqui Chan and I were unravelling our yarns among suits of samurai armor and golden chalices, the Armagh Rhymers and Mummers were literally hypnotizing the audience over in the ballroom. They arrived hooded with conical masks made rrom willow and cloaked in scak cloth. They make some strange noises, mumble, sing, amble and dance. You cna still see them traditionally all over Ireland from Halloween until St. Stephen’s. They represent the spirits of the season and the tradition dates back three half millenioms. And the River Liffey still flows to the sea.

But I must say the cherry on the whipped cream on the icing of the cake was the benefit concert for Eithne Ni Uallacham, well known singer from Donegal, who died six months ago. It was a very poignant, bittersweet evening for family, friends and aficionados from all over. And the best of Irish folk groups were in attendance including Cran, the group with which our flutist Desi plays. Fiddle and flute, drum and pipe and especially clear, pure voices carried the audience hour-long. I found the Irish audience that night really in tune. At times they would gently stomp their feet to keep time or clap tastefully. And the rhythms rocked me all the way back to the hotel along the flowing of the River Liffey, all the way to the sea. Although I was scheduled to leave the next day I had all morning again to myself and I didn't waste a minute. Up early I shopped for Irish bacon, crumpets, cheddar and of course whiskey. I bought CD's and cassettes including the Voice Squad, a bouquet of exquisite ballads. Then I hoofed it up to Dublin's prison for a tour of history first hand until the bus whisked me away to the international airport. But Nuala didn't forget to intrigue me one last time over lunch together at the Irish Writer's Museum: "Do you know what the name of your hotel means?" And in effect the Ashling is the Gaelic word for vision or dream!

I was reading over riddles and triads one day and I came across one that I think sums up this wonderful month of stories—

"Three fewnesses that are better than plenty: a fewness of cows in grass, a fewness of friends around ale and a fewness of fine words." Says the Liffey as she flows to the sea...

For information about Scealta Shamhna contact: the Two Chairs Compagny c/o the Irish Arts Corporation Parnell Square, Dublin 1 Ireland.

—published in Winter 2000

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