What's In a Willow?

My first willow basket

The first time I heard the mention of the word  ‘willow’ was from a sentimental British favourite, The Wind in the Willows written by Kenneth Grahame. It is a story steeped in nostalgia, much inspired by a father’s love for his only son.

If anything, willow reminds me of  things past. Like the abovementioned story, it evokes a sense of nostalgia, of earthliness, of humble beginnings. Willow trees are prevalent in folklore and myths. In the ‘Secret of Salix Babylonicus,’ a story of healing and hope by Timothy Matthew Slemmons,  the willow is a symbol of perseverance. 

I was sauntering along the walkway leading to the Sunday market when I saw a fine display of willow baskets and wigwams. Every piece had a character of its own and being handmade it had an aura of artisan craftsmanship. I may be biased but the shades and textures of willow far surpass cane or bamboo.

                                               Pete showing me how to weave

There are many things that I have learned and can learn on-line, but weaving is certainly something that I would have to learn hands-on. I needed someone to teach me and imagine my delight when I discovered that I could sign up for classes in this ancient craft under the guidance of an expert basket maker, Pete. 

Without hesitation, I did just that and found myself spending a whole day learning how to weave baskets out of willow rods. Even as I held the rods in my hands I could see the many similarities about life’s truths between the willow and us.

                                                 Willow, dried and steamed 

                                                  Surrounded by willow at Mount Shannon

Willows are often planted on the borders of streams so their interlacing roots may protect the bank against the action of the water. There is this symbiotic relationship of two natural elements that is of ecological importance. It speaks to me of the geographical location that we are in – why are we placed in a certain town or city or country? Do our lives make a difference to the setting that we are in or are we so preoccupied with my own wants and needs that we do not go beyond the four walls of our home?

From the master weaver, I learnt that willow rods are soaked and heated in a steam box to make them pliant and easy to handle. Like the willow rods, we have undergone many of life’s experiences that have moulded us into who we are and hopefully better beings.

In the process of weaving, I used some tools like a pair of secateurs and a bodkin.

The secatuers are used to trim the rod ends, to cut off unnecessary parts of the rods and also to split rods. The bodkin on the other hand is a pointed tool used for separating the weave, to produce a gap between the rods so that another rod can go through. At intermittent intervals, I also used a mallet to hammer down the woven parts so that the basket will be more compact and strong.

The final test for a good and sturdy basket is to actually stand on it. If the basket collapses, that means it was not properly woven in the first place.

Pete testing my willow basket

Imagine our characters being ‘trimmed’ and ‘prodded’ by secatuers and bodkins and ‘hammered’ down by a mallet before being ‘stepped upon’ like the basket.

Can we stand the honing process and are we made of more?

It is said that age generally mellows a person but having said that, there are people who have grown old and yet remain nasty.

I find that the kindest and most humble people are those who have experienced great difficulties in life and survived. These are the people who have ridden on the waves of storms and emerged strong.

The process is painful but the end product is rather admirable. When we undergo difficult moments ourselves, then only can we empathise with those who are in similar situations.

Now that I have learnt how to make willow baskets, I will never look at a basket the same way again.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES  21.6. 2015
 http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150621nstnews/index.html#/23/

William Butler Yeats and I

When I was in Innisfree, County Sligo, I was determined to have a peek at the lake made famous by William Butler Yeats in his poem the ‘Lake Isle at Innisfree’.

Now I have this sudden urge to visit the same county again, oftentimes known as Yeats Country because this summer marks 150 years since Yeats was born.

                                             Lake Isle of Innisfree in the background

As is befitting a legend and a Nobel Prize winner for literature in 1923, this commemorative year boasts of nationwide events with the highlight being Yeats day (June 11 – 14). On the international arena for this year, his works are also enjoyed and shared in Moscow, London, Washington, Rio and Beijing.

For us who love literature and poetry, this celebrative extravaganza is a sure delight.

How many of us have aspired to write a novel or have a poem immortalised on a wall of fame? Alas, in my search for similarities between Yeats and I,  I find great humour in the trivial.

Take for example, when Yeats cooked sausages to celebrate the news that he had won the Nobel Prize. The Full Irish breakfast is not the same without sausages. I have heard of elderly ladies  smuggling sausages across international borders (when on vacation) for their loved ones just like how some of us would also do the same for Malaysian delicacies. Frying sausages for breakfast is something of an enjoyable routine to me. The whole kitchen being awashed with the fragrance of hot piping sausages bursting through the skin is something to die for. Unlike Yeats, I don’t think I’ll ever get that infamous ‘You’ve won the Nobel Prize’ phone call.

There were also several people who fired Yeats’ passion.

His ideology about life took several different turns as he grew older. I guess that happens to us as well. It would be most strange to find static characters whose mindsets have not been challenged or developed. His poems too became more symbolic and complex as the years went on. I remember having had a hard time as an undergraduate comprehending ‘Second Coming’ and answering questions on his concepts of the supernatural and eternity. The fact that his poems also carried political themes did not help as we would need to be well acquainted with Irish politics.

Yeats also mentioned the ‘nine bean rows’ that he would have on the Lake Isle of Innisfree. The last time I counted I had six bean rows in my garden. Whether Yeats ever had a penchant for gardening, I do not know. What I know is he did mention beans in that poem and that is as good as saying that we are both into beans.

I am empowered by one of Yeats’ quotes - “think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people”. I have never been so immersed in a society as I do now…..mixing with people from all walks of life. Prior to coming to Ireland, my circle of friends comprised  mainly of the academia and the church. I would surely need the wisdom of Solomon to make sense of this present mingling.

Yeats also had a close circle of friends and family members as well as creative people who impacted his life. I would like to think that I too have the same. It is so true that iron sharpens iron and like minds nourish each other. Great friends are those that you make at any stage of your life and keep them.

Yeats died on January 28, 1939 in a room overlooking the Mediterranean at Cap Martin on the French Riviera. It took almost a decade and two funerals (with  the Second World War in – between) before his remains were finally brought back to Ireland. Rumours have it that it might not have been his body either, possibly Alfred Hollis, an Englishman who died around the same time and was buried beside him in the same French cemetery.

Great people do have a touch of mystery that sets them apart, even in death.

 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY NEW STRAITS TIMES  7.6. 2015  http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150607nstnews/index.html#/23/