A glass of poitin for the pooka
Sunday October 25 2009
AN rud a scriobh an puca, leann se fein e. (What the pooka writes, the pooka can read).
A man who grew up in the shadow of the Nephin mountains in far Mayo used tell tales of pookas and poitin, a dangerous combination, and the need to keep this spectre of the underworld away from your back door on a wet and windswept night.
This is the time of the year for the pooka and other hobgoblins and eerie creatures to be out roaming the countryside after dark, something that once was etched into the consciousness of rural children when older folk told tales about the spooky side of Halloween and encouraged pious utterances as palliatives for protection from frights in the dark. A Mayo practice was to pitch a glass of poitin out the back door for the pooka, a dark and fearsome monster sometimes resembling a horse foaming at the mouth, in the hope that it would be appeased and gallop off to annoy some other household!
Of course, there were other dark forces keeping the pooka company, headless apparitions such as the Dallachain, black goats, Mongo Mango (especially in Ring, Co Waterford), or the Muck Ulla (macalla or echo) roaming around on Halloween, oidhe na h-aimleise, the Night of Mischief.
A tradition was that groups of young people, making as much noise as possible blowing horns and banging pots and pans, would go about the countryside confronting the unknown, some even visiting cemeteries at midnight, collecting stones to prove their bravery. They stuck together because if you fell behind your companions you could be led astray.
The brave bands of brothers (and sisters), sometimes led by a hobby horse (lar bhan) would knock on doors seeking food, drinks or money before moving on. If nothing was forthcoming, annoying tricks would be played on the household -- gates could be lifted off hinges or left open, water barrels tipped over, doors tied from the outside and convenient animals daubed with a splash of whitewash.
There you have the origins of the American institution "trick or treat" brought across the Atlantic in the mass immigrations of centuries past. Today's Irish children (the smaller ones) who dress up, paint their faces and knock on neighbours' doors to receive goodies, and coins, may never have heard of the pooka or such spooks, and their witch costumes and face masks have been conditioned by television rather than folklore, but the roots of Samhain, the ancient Celtic festival marking the start of winter, and celebrated by our Celtic cousins in Galicia in northern Spain, have not been completely forgotten in Ireland, as it is still considered a time for farm reckoning and stocking up. Rents and bills are paid and conacre, the letting of land, is attended to.
But there used to be some great hooleys. According to the folklorist Kevin Danaher, a Banbh Samhain (roast piglet) was served up to friends and neighbours. Whatever happened to this delightful custom? May it be revived!
The children can duck for apples and seek the ring in the barm brack, leaving the adults to their wine and pints and floury potatoes before going to their prayers, remembering family and friends passed on.
Sunday Independent
