NEWFOUNDLAND-A COAT OF MANY COLORS......PART II

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Culture was once described as “what sticks” in a nation or land. But it is more subtle than that.

Imagine if historical origins, heritage, government, economics, religion, food, music, art, entertainment, recreation, geology, climate, flora and fauna, language, traditions, and festivals were each a thread of yard of a different color. Then imagine these threads combined into a beautiful wool coat that could be wrapped around oneself on a cold winter evening. It is the final effect created by the interaction of each individual thread with each other that creates the culture of a region. Take out one thread and something is lost, take out too many and the description fails. Look at only one thread and the coat is gone.

During our two month stay in Newfoundland or the “Rock” as it is called by native born Newfoundlanders, and Labradoreans, (while each is a distinct area, Newfoundland and Labrador are now considered as one province), Sara and I were touched by each of these threads. We felt the warmth and security of the coat called Newfoundland. As one tour book said, “Getting there is the easy part; it’s leaving that is so difficult.” What follows is an attempt through text and pictures to describe each of the threads as we experienced them.

Without a doubt, one of the most colorful threads of the coat that is Newfoundland is its language. Strike up a conversation with a fellow ferry passenger and you are able to understand most every word. Move 50 feet down the same boat and speak to a ferry employee and you are challenged to make sense of any of it. Both speak English but, oh, what a difference. Newfoundland English is a colorful blend of Irish, French, Scotch and English (particularly Wales) dialects. The influence of the native peoples and even a bit of Americana from the servicemen stationed on the “the Rock” during and after WWII add to this living language. Add to this language potpourri literally hundreds of sea-lore expressions and a profusion of colloquialisms that could fill a dictionary, and that is exactly what it does, and you have Newfoundland English. This 700 page, hardback tome, Dictionary of Newfoundland English, cost over $42 dollars and is a very difficult read. But the lighter, The Dictionary of Newfoundland and Labrador by Ron Young is a national bestseller at over 350 pages and a cost of $20 . This delightful book is a must read for those interested in the language and lore of Newfoundland or a visit to the “Rock”.

How else are you going to know that “How is she cutting me cock?” is simply an expression of “How are you doing? “or that the custom of placing copper coins to cover the eyes of a dead person would lead to “He’s so cheap he’d take the coppers off his mutter’s eyes” as a response to one’s companion’s refusal to pick up the bill for a meal. If one’s hands were unusually large, it would be “His pun (hand) could cover a schupper (hole in side deck to release water) on the Titanic. And at the bottom of the belly of every women on the Island lies a Thrashing Machine, and a Cuckoo’s Nest, and they both mean the same thing as does her fish. To ask a young lady to see her fish would, on the Island of Newfoundland, get you a slap on the face if not a visit from her father and probably both. But more about that later.

Another factor that adds color to the language of Newfoundland is, of all things, the state of the Island’s dental care. It was widely publicized during our stay that with a recent retirement, there was not one practicing oral surgeon left on the Island and dentists are very hard to find indeed. That fact has resulted in locals, particularly in the rural areas, to lose most of their teeth at an early age. Combined with the Gaelic language of Ireland which has no th sound and the fact you make the sound by placing your tongue against the back of your top front teeth has greatly influenced the language of Newfoundland. This become “dis,” three becomes “tree,” bath is “bat” and teeth ironically becomes “teef” which also means thief. Also o’s before r’s become a’s so that forty is “farty,” corn is “carn,” and mourning is “marning. “ The letter s is often added to verbs and removed from nouns resulting in “I gets as good of a time now as I did 25 year ago. The oi sound become i and you have “Every time yah pints your finger at me, me fair blood biles”. Keep in mind that dental care has probably improved somewhat from the early days, but the speech patterns of people living in an isolated island village were set generations ago with little reason to change.

It soon becomes apparent to us that Newfoundland English was embodied in all aspects of life on the Island. The food, music, the naming of villages and ports, social relationships, humor, religion, politics, fishing traditions and festivals, body parts, plants and animals, weather, particularly the weather, are a part of this rich and varied linguistic landscape. It became, for me, an etymological ecstasy of epic proportions,(sorry) where I would hear or see a name, an expression, a way of describing a common object or convention and then try to figure out the origin or why the unique words were used. After proposing several possibilities in my mind, I would chose one, and go to the Newfoundland Dictionary for an answer. Sometimes I actually got it right, but most often learned a new and different aspect of the language.

Here are a few of my favorites. There is a town in north central Newfoundland called Dildo, located on Chapel Arm opposite Conception Bay, just down the road from the Port of Seldom Come By and across the arm from Carbonear. Yes, Dildo, and there’s a Dildo Pond and South Dildo too, well, south of Dildo. At a local convenience store the clerk is often asked by tourists the obvious question with little interest in what his community has to offer. The local townspeople tried to change the name, but the proposal was soundly defeated. In this desolate and forbidding land, you use what ever you can to bring in visitors and business. One townsperson suggested the most often asked question posed by visitors be answered in the following way: “D” stands for Dignity, I for Inspirations, L for lovely………….you, get the idea. And now for the explanation. A dildo is a wooden knob or peg that protrudes from the gunwale of a boat and is used to attach a loop of rope to insert the oars. (See, you had the right idea, but Newfies tend to be quite proper.) By the way, an Arm is a deep and narrow inlet from the sea; this one with a chapel at the end. Conception Bay, was named by the French probably for religious reasons. Port of Chance Seldom By means the opposite of what you would think. You would seldom chance by it, in as much as not to leave without stopping due to the lack of supplies in the area, and Carbonear comes from the Spanish word carbonera meaning women who make or sell charcoal. Quidi Vidi, (pronounced Kitty as in cat, Vitty) a long pond and site of the St John’s Rowing Regatta, the oldest continuous sporting event in North America has three possible origins: Latin as in que de vide for that which divides, French as Quidville in France, or most colorful, Kitty Vittey, a one time well known lady of the street who plied her “cuckoo’s nest” in the area for years. And the list goes on and on and on. Learn the basis of the language of Newfoundland and you have learned the Island and its people. See this link on the internet http://www.heritage.nf.ca/dictionary/ for a complete working copy of The Dictionary of Newfoundland and Labrador. Type in the word or phrase and you get the translation.

Probably the most colorful thread in the coat that is Newfoundland is its music. Now this is music where the words of the songs are meant to be heard and understood. It is story telling music, not the funky, loud, brash sounds of most St John’s music festivals. Whether a mournful ballad about love spawned and love lost, a rousing sailor chorus set to the time of shipboard tasks, a jabbing and stabbing political protest or a bawdy, lustful tune of lovemaking, most Newfoundland folk music has one thing in common, it is meant to be sung by everyone and most people present do. There is always a fiddle but never drums. The beat is carried by “playin da spoons or an “ugly stick.” This percussion instrument consists of a broom or mop hand with beer caps or felt nail heads attached to make a jingling sound. A second stick was carved with a serrated side which was dragged along the first like a fiddle bow. Topped with a hat and bottomed with an old boot, the ugly stick was a favorite at most kitchen parties. There is usually a guitar and the playing of a pushbutton accordion is an art form onto itself on the Island of Newfoundland. Mouth organs or harmonicas are often added to the sound.

The shear volume of the songs is impressive. An online index of the GEST Songs of Newfoundland and Labrador has over 2,000 entries and many of the songs lyrics can be viewed and enjoyed at this link http://wtv-zone.com/phyrst/audio/nfld/

And now for an explanation of a women’s Thrashing Machine or Cuckoo’s Nest, all in song with parts abbreviated:

The Cuckoo’s Nest

Some like a girl who is pretty in the face,
And some like a girl who is slender in the waist;
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist,
At the bottom of her belly lies the cuckoo's nest.

As I was a walking one morning in May,
I met a pretty fair maid and unto her did say:
"I'll tell you me mind, it's for love I am inclined,
And me inclination lies in your cuckoo's nest."

"Me darling," says she, "I can do no such thing,
For me mother often told me it was committing sin,
Me maidenhead to lose and me sex to be abused,
So have no more to do with me cuckoo's nest."

"Me darling," says me, "it's not committing sin,
But common sense should tell you it is a pleasing thing;
For you were brought into this world to increase and do your best,
And to help a man to heaven in your cuckoo's nest."

"Me darling," says she, "I cannot you deny,
For you've surely won my heart by the rolling of your eye;
Yet I see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised,
So gently lift your hand into me cuckoo's nest."

The Trashing Machine

Well, there was an old farmer who lived down in Spain,
He had a young servant, pretty Molly by name;
He had a young servant, well, you know what I mean,
Oh, he wanted to thrash on her thrashing machine.

"Now what about your missus?" Miss Molly did say,
"Oh, to hell with the missus, she's down makin' hay;
She's down makin' hay where the grass is so green,
While you and I thrash on your thrashing machine."

Now, one morning this farmer, not meanin' no harm,
He invited Miss Molly down back of the barn;
He invited Miss Molly, well, you know what I mean,
Oh, he wanted to thrash on her thrashing machine.

Now, the summer was over, and winter came on,
And pretty Miss Molly was lookin' so worn;
She said to the farmer, "You've treated me mean,
You dumped all your oats in my thrashing machine."

Well, come all ye young maidens and listen to me,
Don't let an old farmer an inch 'bove your knee;
For if he can use a pitchfork in between,
He will want to go thrashing on your thrashing machine.

And as for a women’s fish, well, on this island there is only one true fish and that is a cod. And a man has a fish too. A knitted woolen sock (preferable of soft wool) of undoubtedly exaggerated proportions called a codpiece was worn by many fishermen to keep his “fish” warm during the frigid winters.

The natural landforms and geology are another thread in the Coat of Many Colors that is Newfoundland and are hard not to appreciate. They are all around you and are truly spectacular. These natural wonders begin at the place where the mountains come to the sea in the most abrupt way. Beaches and shallows are hard to be found and depth of most harbors is legendary. It is what made the Island such a popular place for sailors of long ago and still today. The mountain ranges of Newfoundland probably did more to promote the theory of plate tectonics than any on the face of the earth and one only has to visit the “Tablelands” of Gross Morne to understand why. Each year geologists from around the world peer down a valley with mountain ranges on each side. The mountains to the right as you face west are covered in green vegetation and ground cover. The mountains to the left are barren, with no meaningful green growth and a distinctive golden brown color that can be seen for miles in any direction. And consider this.

Geologists now know that the mountains to the right came from the African continent and those barren rocks to the left from the very bowels of the earth’s mantle on the North American continent. And at one time the two continents were side by side. Like massive bulldozers of unimaginable proportions, they collided into one another, forcing by the sheer weight of the blades, the earth’s magma, to squirt up into a mountain range. The levels of magnesium in the rocks on that side prevent any plant life from growing there. And the best evidence of the theory of plate tectonics or moving continents lies on the coast of Africa where a similar landform display exists, identical in every way but reversed in a mirror image. Sara and I visited the Tablelands and marveled at their majesty. They were still topped with snow in July. A subtle, aspect of the landscape of Newfoundland that can be easily missed are the waterfalls. The Rock is just that: a rock and when it rains, there is little vegetation and topsoil to absorb the water. This makes for incredible waterfalls that are often hidden in the lush green of the mountainsides. Often you will drive by them without hardly a notice and some required a bit of a hike.
Be on the lookout. They are worth a visit.

One of the features of the Newfoundland landscape that we were determined to see close up was an iceberg. On the drive to St Anthony on the northwestern tip of Newfoundland, we passed the Straits of Labrador, a mere 28 miles wide, which connects the Sea of Labrador with the Gulf of St Lawrence. This passageway is part of what is called Iceberg Alley. It was where we saw our first iceberg but at a distance so far, it could not be appreciated. Then at St. Anthony, we had our chance. The Northland Discovery Boat Tours promised one of the largest icebergs ever sighted in July and whales to boot. After days of rain, we left the harbor with the bluest skies and brightest sunshine imaginable. We steamed out of the harbor on the Gaffer III with about 20 other folks. Our guide wore a floppy, wool, knit skull cap and that confirmed our decision to be warmly dressed and then we saw it. Iceberg watchers have a classification system for these wonders. “Bergies” are little icebergs; “bergie bits” are tiny pieces of an iceberg and “growlers” are particularly dangerous bergs due to their low profile and instability. “Slob ice” is what remains when an iceberg is ground up into tiny pieces to make a slush. But this one was none of these.

It was one of the largest bergs sighted in the area in years, according to our guide, and as we approached it, it got larger and larger and larger. Oh, My Gosh. I had to wait 62 years to see my first iceberg and I will never forget it. It was over 180 ft tall and the most gleaming white you could imagine. Set in the bluest seas you to be seen, this berg had run aground and with only one fifth of its height above the water line, quick math told us that this monster was almost a 1000 ft top to bottom. Where the bottom of the berg met the sea water, its color changed from white to a deep aqua. We circled the berg at least four or five times, always keeping our distance as these mammoths are constantly melting and changing shape and form. We could even see several waterfalls cascading down the side of the berg. Our guide explained that if the berg breaks free or suddenly shifts as the weight distribution changes from melting, a boat can be swamped in the resulting wave. Deep blue cracks several feet wide up the side of the iceberg came from glacial streams that filled voids and refroze before the iceberg broke off from the glacier. We finally slipped away, but before leaving the area, we scooped up some Bergie Bits with a net. Pieces were chipped off and passed around for everyone on the boat to sample. The gasses trapped in the ice are over 10,000 years old and due to the lack of industrial pollution at formation, totally pure. We were told amidst continuous chuckles from our guide and most on board that a new industry called “ice fishing” has developed off Newfoundland to supply the local bars with the fizzing Bergie Bits. And of course Iceberg Vodka, an Island exclusive, is only made from the water of melted icebergs. As we cruised back toward the harbor at St Anthony we were met by several humpback whales, blowing and breaching. Our guide told us to watch for the “whale footprints” after the monsters dive. For several minutes we could see a clear patch on the ocean face as thousands of gallons of water rushed to the surface after being displaced by the body of the downward whale. We saw icebergs and whale “footprints” all in the same day. It is the sheer size of them that overwhelms you. You will never forget them.

On the way back to the dock, our guide, a true Newfoundlander, shared with us three Island features that are truly unique to the area. The first was the amount of snow that can fall in one storm. In the tiny town of St Anthony Blight, just north of St Anthony, a perfect storm of wind, moisture and temperature dumped over 16 feet of snow on one person’s house. At the risk of dying from the fumes, a fire could not be built. People from the villages of the surrounding area got the word and by dogsled and snowmobile came to dig out their neighbor by hand. It took over two days and the family was saved.

This led to our guide’s second observation. He asked if we had seen the thousands and thousands of dollars worth of fishing equipment stacked in piles along the roadside on the way to St Anthony. There are lobster traps by the thousands and crab traps by the hundreds. There are nets and lines. We had all seen them. Then he asked about the woodpiles and we had seen them too. You have never, ever seen so much wood stacked along the side of the road. Now we have all seen a woodpile or two, but these are different. They are brown ribbons, eight feet wide, six feet high and seemingly endless in length. They wind their way up and down the hills parallel to the road for easy access. “And you know what?” said our guide, “I have never heard of anyone ever trying to steal anything from those roadside stores.” People here leave their doors unlocked and their stores miles from their houses and never worry about their things. He explained that life on this Island is often harsh and brutal, particularly in the winter, and that the person one might steal from, might be the very same person who the next day will be lifting you from the freezing sea. It’s the Code and no enforcement is needed. It is just understood.

Finally we were asked if we observed the many roadside gardens along the highways throughout Newfoundland. Everyone on the boat had. When the roads were constructed, the ground was disturbed to the point where one could actually work the thin soil enough to plant a garden. These plots are coveted and passed down through families and they never display a sign of individual ownership. We have seen them everywhere throughout Newfoundland. Little patches of ground in the right of way, these gardens have split pole fences surrounding them, to ward off the moose and caribou. The only no trespassing signs are plastic bags fluttering from the poles, old clothes drenched in urine draped on the sides, and one with a dead raven hanging upside down from a nearby tree. Within the boundaries are neatly growing rows of potatoes, always potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets and other root crops. And no garden would be complete without a row of cabbage. The growing season is short and the plots have been in the family for sometimes 20 or 30 years. These vegetables are moved to outdoor root cellars for storage. And no one steals from the gardens or the cellars. They are, as the woodpile’s the basis of winter survival. They are the means of glowing red hot stoves, huge kettles of steaming stews meant to be shared with family and friends all winter long. There is no need to steal now because these stores, even the firewood will be shared with all, if needed, and everyone knows it. What a wonderful way to live. And some call these people poor.

Among some of the most cherished traditions in Newfoundland are kitchen parties and the Christmas practice of mumming. A kitchen party is just what it sounds like. Although most houses had a parlor, they were rarely used for entertaining with the possible exception of a holiday or a wake for the dead. It was the kitchen, the only heated room in the house, where entertaining was done. To get to the kitchen, one entered through the back door which in most rural areas was the only door the house had. With the advent of government regulations from far away Ottawa following Confederation, houses were required to have both front and back doors, a policy that seems wise considering the dangers of wood heat and frequency of chimney fires from burning the pitch laden, black spruce, the only available firewood. But in typical Newfoundland defiance, the regulation was met but the steps to the front door never installed. As we traveled the province, we saw house after house with a front door sometimes 10 to 15 feet above the ground. Affectionately known as “mother in law” doors, they were never finished off and stand tall, proudly proclaiming to the government officials and everyone else, “Thars ya damn door!”

A kitchen party is a time of food, music, dance and story telling. A traditional Jigg’s dinner is most probably served and music fills the house. Songs like “Jack is Every Inch a Sailor”, “I ‘se the B’y”, “The Squid Jigging Grounds’ and “Let me Fish off Cape St Mary’s” will be heard; everyone will dance. Dancing a jig, also called step-dancing by some, requires a certain amount of foot stomping, as well as heel and toe and arm movements. Soon the sound of all the “leather hittin the lumber” becomes a part of the music. Occasionally an old fashion waltz will be played and that is time for the younin’s to give up the floor to mom and dad. There is, we are told, nothing more beautiful than a couple long in love floating across the kitchen to an Irish waltz.

Mumming is a Christmas holiday tradition in Newfoundland when people dress up in disguise, veils over their faces, and men usually dress up as women and women as men. With musical instruments in hand and wooden horse chops to ride, the merry makers begin on St Stephens Day, December 26. With a wooden Johnny stick, they wrap on the door and ask, “”Any mummers ‘lowed in?” using voices changed to disguise. If allowed in, the music and entertainment begins and the Mummers are served food and of course, alcohol. Moving from one house to another, the mummers go on til morning’s light.

Of all the threads in the coat of many colors called Newfoundland probably the strongest and the most colorful, the thread that holds the whole coat together is the Island’s humor. Newfoundlanders, often a butt of jokes throughout all of Canada, somehow rise above it. More than that, they create the humor and bring it on themselves. But it is an original humor, full of light and merriment and never mean or derisive. The book stores and shops of Newfoundland are filled with row after row of joke books and humorous stories.

One way for a visitor to Newfoundland to join in on some of the good natured fun is to attend a Screech In. These tongue and cheek ceremonies are held everyday across the province, in almost every pub, campground or meeting room and are not to be missed by a visitor. After all, you become an official Newfie and get a certificate to prove it. This tradition is based on Newfoundland Screech. This is one of the best selling dark rums in all of Canada. Produced in Jamaica, this harsh brew was traded for salt cod fish for hundreds of years. The fish became the national dish of the Jamaicans and the rum the traditional drink of the Rock. The rum is blended and bottled in St John’s by the Newfoundland and Labrador Liquor Corporation and was first sold in unlabelled bottles. The potent drink remained nameless until an influx of American servicemen to Newfoundland during World War II. As the story goes, the commanding officer of the American detachment was having his first taste of Newfoundland hospitality, and, as was the custom, downed his drink in one gulp. Up rose a blood-curdling howl, to which an old Army sergeant pounding on the door, wanted to know, “What the cripes was that ungodly screech?” A Newfoundlander responded, “The Screech? Tis, the Rum, me son.” And from then on, every bottle sold bears the name Screech.

First time visitors to Newfoundland may be submitted to a “Screeching-In” ceremony which entitles them to become an honorary Newfoundlander. This is intended to be a fun time and the ceremony is usually thoroughly enjoyed by both the visitors and anyone who happens to be watching. To join the Royal Order of Screechers, Mainlanders must stand in front of a group of witnesses, wearing a sou’wester (a waterproof fishing cap with a chinstrap to prevent it from blowing away at sea). The Islander hosting the ceremony then holds a cod fish (real or wooden) up to the “victim,” who must kiss the fish on the lips. Next, the host pours a shot of screech for the candidate. Holding the glass high, the candidate must recite the words, “Thru the teeth and over the gums, look out stomach, here she comes." The Native born then asks if the candidate is a Newfoundlander, to which the correct reply is, “Dee’d I is me ole trout and long may yore big jib draw”. Translation, “Yes I am, and may you always have wind in your most front sail on your boat, to increase your speed.” When answered correctly and after a sprinkling of salt water, the candidate is tapped on both shoulders with an oar from a fishing boat and declared an Honorary Newfoundlander. Once the ceremony is over, each candidate is given a copy of the Royal Order of Screechers certificate which declares that he/she is enrolled in the Order of the Screech. Sara and I were both Screeched In and have our papers to prove it.

We were determined before we left the Island to see three Newfoundland icons and managed them all before we left. First, we want to see a true Newfoundland dog, an Atlantic salmon and an Atlantic puffin. The dog was the hardest. You would think they would be everywhere but they are not. Newfies can run 180 lbs (maybe that is why they are hard to find), have webbed feet and in one instance saved over 120 sailors from a floundered ship by swimming to shore with a life rope. We found a breeder in St John's and she had three. They loved Sara but Charlie, our little schnoodle had to wait in the truck. We saw the salmon in Grand Falls at a fish ladder and it was exciting and the puffins. Well, the locals call them the "parsons" bird and we saw thousands of them off the coast of Twillingate near the lighthouse. It was so neat.

Finally as we leave this Island, Sara and I would like to pass on a word of advice. If you ever get a chance to visit this Grand Land, do it. Talk to the people that live here and listen to them closely. There are three subjects that get you into any conversation anywhere, any time: the weather, the Cod Moratorium or Newfoundland’s joining of the Confederacy. If you start with weather, say “ Aye, (always start with aye), haw’s de weather?” You are most likely to be greeted with, “Well ifs, yah don’t like it, wait 5 minutes and it change.” And you know, if usually does. The record for us was five changes in one day. It went from full sunshine to a downpour and back to sunshine five times from dawn til dusk. Then talk about the unfairness of the Cod Moratorium and soon you will hear yourself being referred to as “mate or captain, or buddy”. You are in. Bring up Newfoundland’s joining the Confederacy in 1949, and the more rural the location, the more you should be against it. Close your conversation with your name and a handshake and I promise you will have a friend for life.

And now for the final thread in the Coat of Many Colors that is Newfoundland. It is the most important one. Can you guess what it is? Rick Bell, writer for the Calgary Sun newspaper describes Newfoundlanders in the following way:

The moment you lose your faith in people I recommend you save up your pennies and take a trip to Newfoundland. Meet the Newfoundlanders and your faith will be restored. You will meet total strangers and they will become friends. You will walk in as an unknown soul and come out with buddies who’ll stand up for you in any fight. You will hear them laugh at themselves, sing songs and tell tales. They will take life’s curves with grace and know that being alive is a whole lot better than being dead. They will treat you for who you are and not put on phony airs. If you need a hand, you get an army. They will take you in, buy you a round, make you part of the family and by the time you leave the Rock, you’ll fall in love with the place. You see, Newfoundlanders are Newfoundlanders, wherever they go. After all, as John Crosbie, an Islander once said, you can always tell the Newfoundlanders in Heaven, they’re the ones who want to go home!

Yes, it is the people. Meet them, greet them and embrace them and you will never, ever regret it…………………………