Memories are best preserved in songs

IN the ages before written communication was developed - it originally took the form of images and representations – oral tradition held sway.

That’s the way history was preserved and important rules for society were conserved and propagated.

Gradually, the spoken word was transcribed on stone, clay, leather, papyrus, parchment and, eventually, paper and electronic devices.

Until then, the spoken conversation was best preserved in the form of poems and songs – much easier to remember and recite than thousands of sentences.

These, by virtue of their ease of memory through rhyme, became incorporated into the folklore of every culture.

Truth and myth were equally captured by the bard and poet, and have been incorporated into the wisdom, legends, and traditions of cultures and society at large.

One of the topics that deemed worth remembering was disasters; both to honour the dead and hopefully to prevent a recurrence.

The recent tragic deaths at the Implats mine reminded me of a number of songs that have captured the dark and dangerous occupation of mining, which is as old as mankind itself.

The Bee Gees recorded ‘New York Mining Disaster 1941’, inspired by the Aberfan disaster in Wales, in 1966, when a colliery spoil tip collapsed on top of a village, killing 144 people including 116 children.

This because the 12m high landslide smashed into a school where the children had all just assembled, at a reported 130km/ hour.

Barry and Robin Gibb wrote and performed the song in 1967, poetic licence creating a different but relatable scenario.

It tells the story of a miner trapped in a cave-in, who shares a photo of his wife with a colleague, while they have given up hope of being rescued and ever seeing loved ones again.

“In the event of something happening to me,

there is something I would like you all to see.

It’s just a photograph of someone that I knew.

Have you seen my wife, Mr Jones?

Do you know what it’s like on the outside?

Don’t go talking too loud, you’ll cause a landslide, Mr Jones.

I keep straining my ears to hear a sound.

Maybe someone is digging underground,

or have they given up and all gone home to bed,

thinking those who once existed must be dead?”

That haunting song is matched by another from the 1960s, written by Pete Seeger and made famous by The Byrds, who are better known for ‘Mr Tambourine Man’ and ‘Turn, Turn, Turn’ (Ecclesiastes Ch 3).

It’s called ‘Bells of Rhymney’ and speaks of the sad chiming of church bells in the wake of various mining disasters.

It is especially scathing of mine owners who put profit before safety, and has an accusatory refrain: ‘“And who killed the miner?” Say the grim bells of Blaina.’ There’s another 60s song (still my favourite music era) by David Marks, better known for his ‘Master Jack’ classic.

It’s about Joburg’s ubiquitous mine dumps, the evidence of old gold mine tailings.

He reminds us: “They stand in our country, we see them and then; we say it’s just dust but it’s not – it’s mountains of men.”

Too true, it’s the product of the brave miners who gave their sweat and their lives for us.

And still do.

Issues at stake

“Let’s always be conscious of those miners who daily descend into the belly of the earth, at great personal risk,” says Dave Savides, in the wake of the Implats disaster