Welsh Heritage Days - 20 and 21 July 2011

I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me, those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front, to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes.

As I felt, so they had felt, and were to feel, as then, so now, as tomorrow and forever. Then I was not afraid, for I was in a long line that had no beginning, and no end, and the hand of his father grasped my father's hand, and his hand was in mine, and my unborn son took my right hand, and all, up and down the line that stretched from Time That Was, to Time That Is, and Is Not Yet, raised their hands to show the link, and we found that we were one . . .

from How Green Was My Valley written by Richard Llewellyn

As you can see from the quote above, the Welsh are very proud of their heritage. Over the past Wednesday and Thursday I got to experience a little piece of that legacy. 

It started with a big class trip to the Big Pit Mine, named so because it had the largest shaft than any other mine in Wales. Big Pit was closed in the early 1980s when Magaret Thatcher shut down hundreds of mines across Britian and denationalized the coal industry. What made this experience special for me was knowing the history of mining is Wales and England before hand. I had read about how thousands and thousands of people worked in the mines and depended on their pittance of a wage to take care of their families. I had learned about the dangers and horrible conditions. I had learned about how people were practically enslaved to the coal and iron masters. I had learned about the child labor and hard work men and women were tasked with. I had learned about tiny row houses. I had learned about the pitt ponies. I had learned about the constant state of filth. I had learned about the unavoidable health problems that came from a life time of mining. But I couldn't really understand or imagine it until I was there. We took a walking tour of the mine led by an ex-professional miner. He outfitted us with hard hats and headlamps, and then we were sardined into the elevator and taken down the shaft.

It was an enlightening experience (which is ironic because the mine was very dark). I stood in pitchblackness in the same places that six and seven year-olds stood in pitch blackness waiting for the sound of a dram. My hand was not even a quarter of an inch from my face and I still couldn't see it and those little children would sit in darkness like that for twelve hours at a time. I walked the paths the miners did, constantly ducking and hunching my back uncomfortably so I wouldn't hit my head. I saw how easily accidents could happen with the poor protections for the men underground. I saw the stalls the ponies were kept in waiting through the night in inky darkness until someone with a candle would come and lead them to another exhausting days work. I saw where father and son teams would work with pick-axes, chisels and hammers to free the coal and sort out the rubbish. They weren't paid if their dram wasn't sorted and clear of useless material. The unfairness and cruelty of the mining industry was so present in the mine. 

I can't say I'm not thankful for how everything has happened, because I am thankful. The mines of Wales and England were pivotal to the Industrial Revolution that transformed the world and helped bring us to where we are today. But I think it's important to not forget what those men, women and children sacrificed. They weren't trying to change the world. They were just trying to make a living and I can barely comprehend how they managed to do that in their circumstances.

On Thursday evening Susan and I had the pleasure of attending a rehearsal of the Cardiff Arms Park Male Choir. They were spectacular. This is not because of the quality of their music, but because of the amount of spirit they put into singing. Most of the men were somewhere between 50 and 70 but they acted and teased like naughty little boys. We met shouts of "Croeso!", "Good for you!" and "Well done!" when we announced that we were in Cardiff to study Welsh and so many of them wanted to visit with us and hear a bit more of our story (as well as speak Welsh) after the rehearsal. But most of all, I love them because they poured their hearts into every song they sung. You could see it radiating on their faces. 

There is a Welsh proverb attributed to Wilfred Wilson that goes "To be born Welsh is to be born privileged. Not with a silver spoon in your mouth, But music in your blood. And poetry in your soul." The men of the Cardiff Arms Park Male Choir embodied this in every single way.