This initially can strike one as dodgy territory: does this mean ‘sexing it up’?  Bigging it up?  Playing fast and loose with the factual truth?  Surely there cannot be any greater gulf than between the uncertainties and complexities of scientific research and the simple, one-sided morality of a story? 

This might be true if we are thinking of nursery tales, with their single perspective.  But move on to myth cycles and sagas of the days before printing presses, and the similarities emerge.  These are massive works with large casts of characters, with multiple agendas and internecine plots.  Their tellers accepted the challenge of structuring them into narratives so that audiences could pay attention for hours on end – and not only that, but also find them memorable enough to pass them on to others.  They contained the cutting-edge wisdom and learning of their day, and the teller’s heavy responsibility was to reproduce them in detail for the benefit of others.  They were discussed, analysed and laboured over.  No individual episode within them stood alone: rather it was part of a greater body of knowledge.

You start to see what I’m getting at?  It’s all about structure, interest, sequence, natural drama.  We all think, remember and learn in stories and narratives, even scientists.  A PhD student working on one aspect of the reproductive biology of frogs is adding another episode to a grander body of learning about the natural world – his or her work is only compelling and important if given in that context.  The perspectives of the frog, its predator, its prey, the scientist, the pond itself might all be in there and need to be structured into a narrative.  It must stick in readers’ heads so they go on to discuss it in scientific fora.  And all the time, without losing the factual detail.  A lot to ask, especially in our times when most people don’t tell or listen to a lot of stories.

So I was asked to take two factual stories (I harvest these things from National Geographic!) and tell them very differently: one as a ‘proper’ story, the other as an assortment of facts put together any old how.  Both my stories dealt with watershed management in developing countries.  Telling really badly is actually quite hard, because it comes so naturally to all of us to tell things in narrative arcs.  But I gave it my best shot and I think I left them pretty confused….! The group’s task was then to retell the second story well.  This was a really interesting exercise as each group chose a different primary perspective and managed to keep the key facts in there while holding the listeners’ interest.

I left reflecting that being a storyteller is certainly one of the most diverse and rewarding jobs in the world!  Because stories truly are everywhere.

And what better way to celebrate the new phase of life than by being featured in a brand new magazine.  ‘One and Other’ has been launched by local ‘mumpreneurs’ (as they are called) to celebrate all that is green and sustainable and hopeful in York.  It was an honour to be included in their first ever issue, September 2011, with a full length interview.

The latest addition to my family is Finn, now aged 4 months but here is a picture of him in the weeks after birth.  Finn was, of course, the leader of the Fianna, Ireland’s legendary warrior band – so a fitting name for the third son of a storyteller.  As a storytelling friend has reminded me, all the best stories start with three sons!

York ‘Explore’ (aka Central Library) hosted a ‘Narnia Day’ and threw its heart and soul into it.  The staff were dressed as beavers, dryads, fauns, a rather terrifying White Witch, a mighty Aslan; the public entered the library through a real wardrobe filled with fur coats; families were invited to write their own Narnia scripts, star in their own Narnia films, and also…to listen to me tell some of the stories from ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe’.

What an intimidating brief!  I couldn’t just read it – that is not what you hire a storyteller for! – but nor could I take dramatic liberties with it.  I couldn’t generalise it, universalise it, twist it this way or that – C.S. Lewis wrote it the way he did and that must be respected.  Moreover, the darkness in this book is rather deep darkness: creatures are turned to stone, friends and siblings betray each other, there is even a kind of crucifixion.  This could not be skated lightly over, but an audience starting at age 5 could not cope with all of it.

Well, I wasn’t sure it could be done, but I am glad I did, because I think it did work, and this opens up a huge seam of storytelling sources for me.

The thing to do, I think, is just like with a myth: you read and re-read the book until you have taken to heart the sequence of events, the key images – these shall not be messed around with.  Then you forget the book and you make it your own story.  You can inhabit the character whose state of mind intrigues you for as long as you like.  You can halt and revolve around a certain point in a character’s journey for a while.  You can press the ‘pause’ button when you need to and invite the audience to learn to recite a key phrase, act as characters in the story, pose as stone statues…  Then you return to your telling and allow them to become immersed again.  And then you must, of course, get everyone safe home again – in this case, I had some young audience members crowned as kings and queens in Cair Paravel.

Thanks and best of luck to York Explore with this series of family events.

The stories are short, pithy and humorous tales of the familiar anthropomorphised animals: the clever hare (Kalulu), the bossy elephant (Njobvu), the lazy Eland, a variety of other grass-chewers, and the slow but steady tortoise (Kamba) and his on-the-ball wife.  This has rapidly become one of my favourite stories, ideal for this time of mellow fruitfulness and relative abundance, and – so far – universally appreciated by both adults and children.  Here is a quick summary for your own elaboration.  You might want to briefly introduce the main characters first and give gestures to each of them for listeners to recognise/join in with.  And of course the refrain about the tree’s name will get everyone joining in whether you tell them to or not:

THE FAMINE AND THE FRUIT TREE

It had been hot, hot, hot and dry, dry, dry for far too long on the plains.  The grass had withered away to nothing, the fruits dropped off the trees without ripening, and the animals of the plain were hungry.  They were so hungry that they could hear each others’ tummies rumbling from miles off.  Njobvu went on a slow, heavy wander away from his usual foraging places and to his astonishment he saw a tree that was laden with bright red, juicy, tasty-looking fruits.  He called the other animals to see it and they all thoughtlessly began to reach out to fill their bellies – but Njobvu called ‘STOP!’

Always the cautious leader, he pointed out that they had never seen this tree before and didn’t know if the fruits were safe to eat.  The animals sank into moroseness again.  Then Eland suggested sending someone to ask the Wise Old Python, who lived on the island in the centre of the Great Lake – he would know.  But it was a day’s journey away.  Njobvu replied: “Excellent idea, Eland, you can go yourself.” At this Eland became much less keen and spluttered that he wasn’t the fastest or the best walker, and not so fond of fruit anyway…but Njobvu didn’t listen to his protestations, and off he went.

So Eland travelled the whole day to the Great Lake and the whole day back, and the other animals eagerly awaited his return.  When they saw him they called out, “Well? What did he say? What is the tree and are the fruits safe to eat?”  To which Eland said, “He said…he said…..oh, he did tell me but I can’t remember!  I did see him, I travelled over on a piece of bark and I asked him and he told me, then I travelled back and saw some juicy green grass, I ate that and then fell asleep for a while….”

Njobvu was furious: “You fell asleep?!  You lazy animal – I shall have to spank you for that!” And Eland was indeed punished.

It was suggested that Antelope, being faster and brighter than Eland, should go to Python.  And he did, and he came back a day or so later, and again the animals asked him what he had found out about the tree with the red fruits.  But when Antelope opened his mouth to tell them, he realised that he too had forgotten!  He had seen the same juicy green grass on his return from the island, he too had fallen asleep for a while….and now he could remember nothing.  And he too was punished.

Several other animals, by now weak from hunger, tried their own luck, but the same remarkable thing happened to each one of them.  All the fast runners made the journey, all to no avail.

Then little Kamba, the tortoise, raised a foot: “I could try going to see Python, I haven’t yet.”  They all spluttered with laughter.  “You!  You’re so slow, by the time you get back the fruits will have dropped off the tree!” But Kamba pointed out that there was no alternative.  So they agreed that, for all the good it would do them, Kamba could try.

Kamba’s wife walked a little way with him.  She said, “Now you listen to me.” (Kamba always did) “Those other animals are greedy and rude, that is their problem.  Mind that you are polite to everyone you meet.  And also – I don’t like the sound of that juicy green grass they have all been eating.  Don’t eat anything at all while you’re away.”  Kamba gulped, but promised.  And off he went.

After some days he reached the Great Lake and looked around for a way to cross.  A family of crocodiles was approaching, father, mother and four children.  They were hideous-looking and Kamba was naturally very afraid, but he remembered his manners.  “Good day to you,” he said. “What lovely children you have!”  At this the crocodile parents blushed and simpered and said, “Why yes, they are.  Is there anything we can do for you, traveller?” And they gave Kamba a lift on their backs to the island in the middle of the lake.

On the island he quickly found the great Python, coiled up and resting in the heat.  Python hissed and reared his head when he saw he was to be disturbed yet again.  “Another one!  And all of you so rude!  Have you come to ask me about this tree again?”  Kamba apologised profusely for disturbing Python once more and promised it would be the very last time.  “Well,” said Python. “I will tell you.  Listen carefully. ITS NAME IS MUNGULELE AND IT’S VERY GOOD TO EAT.  Now – GO AWAY!” And Kamba did, muttering to himself lest he forget it, “Its name is Mungulele and it’s very good to eat, its name is Mungulele and it’s very good to eat,” until he was sure he had it.

The crocodiles gave him a lift back to the shore and there he noticed a tuft of delicious-looking fresh green grass that he was sure had not been there before.  Hunger making him thoughtless, he rushed over to eat some to give him strength for the journey back home.  But a little grass snake came rustling out of the tuft and stared at him. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Kamba.  “Is this your grass?” The little snake replied, “You can eat some if you really want to.  But it does funny things to the memory, they say…” and he slithered off.  “Of course!” remembered Kamba and reluctantly he turned away from the tasty morsel and headed slowly, ever more slowly, for home.  It took him days and by the time he got back to the plain where he lived his head was dragging on the ground and he could barely walk.  The others saw him coming and thought it was too late.  But then they saw he was whispering something.  They put their ears to his mouth and heard, unmistakeably:
“Its name is Mungulele and it’s very good to eat….its name is Mungulele and it’s very good to eat….its name is….”

Looking at each other they smiled in amazement and ran to the fruit tree.  They picked the juiciest fruits and put them before Kamba’s mouth so he could reach them.  When he had eaten a few his strength flooded back to him, he stood up on all four legs and shouted at the top of his voice: “ITS NAME IS MUNGULELE AND IT’S VERY GOOD TO EAT!!!!!!” And all the animals raised a huge cheer for Kamba.  They feasted on the delicious fruits until their bellies were full, and the famine forgotten.

And you can be sure that they never teased Kamba for being slow, ever again.

So – how did Stomping Through The Seasons go, in its debut performance?  Poet Anneliese Emmans Dean and I performed a show of poems and stories, interspersed with local shoemaker Terry Brown’s contributions on the craft of shoemaking.  We had a full house of adults and children of all ages, and they helped us assemble a ‘shoe calendar’ throughout the show.

Anneliese, Terry and I with our selection of footwear

And otherwise? I’ve been running ‘storytelling for sustainability’ workshops in various schools, local and not-so-local, ranging from the very large Clifton with Rawcliffe Primary, to the very tiny St Mary’s RC near Preston. Spent some lovely days roaming schools’ Forest Schools areas and wildlife areas, making polar bear habitats and searching for materials to make Magic Gardens.

I’ve been helping several local schools prepare their shows for the excellent York Schools Drama Festival, which was a truly impressive event and a credit to all the teachers and children involved.  The theme was ‘Tall Tales’, which proved fertile ground for all the groups – we had Green Children, sisters with three eyes, untrustworthy princesses, mean shoemakers, smelly kings, mischievous fairies, and ordinary-looking schoolboys who turned out to be superheroes.  Congratulations to Colin Jackson, the council’s Drama Consultant, on all this work.

And since Spring has sprung, I’ve spent quite a lot of time storytelling in the outdoors as well. I’ve been up at Hackfall Woods again, for two Family Adventure Days in the Easter holidays:

Practising some tunes in the early morning near Fountains Pond at Hackfall

And, under two ancient spreading redwoods, at the Darlington Green Fair…

And this past weekend, bringing in the Summer properly in medieval style at the Yorkshire Museum of Farming at Murton Park, as it has been Mayday/Beltane.  Visitors made May crowns from willow and blossoms, May baskets to give to their sweethearts, went a-Maying with me around the site to gather branches and flowers to deck out the Viking Long House in the museum’s Danelaw settlement.  We then settled down round the fire for some stories of fairies and how to avoid them!

Telling the story of 'The Stolen Child' - like I said, fairies are not always nice and sweet!

Trying to get to grips with the recorder - I've lost my tin whistle!!!

Anneliese Emmans Dean

1) Following last year’s sell-out performance, we will be reprising ‘Raucous Rhymes and Wonder Tales’ – this time at Pocklington Arts Centre, on Sunday 7th Feb 2010.  This show is a celebration of childhood, across the centuries and around the world. Whether you are a child yourself, or just eternally youthful, come along and enjoy the antics and adventures of children of all sorts: rich and poor, happy and sad, mad and bad.  We will journey from the sublime to the ridiculous with fun poems and magical stories, and you may find yourself joining in….

When?   Sunday 7th February 2010, 6:30-8pm

Whom for?  Adults and children aged 6+

Where?  Pocklington Arts Centre

How much? Adults £5, children £2

To book: www.pocklingtonartscentre.co.uk

Click on the link to see the Raucous Rhymes Pocklington Flyer

2) On Sat 27th March, Anneliese and I will be premiering a brand new show for families as part of the 2010 York Literature Festival .  This year’s show is ‘Stompin’ through the Seasons’ – a feast of poetry, storytelling and….shoemaking!  Yes, we will have a real live shoemaker getting on with his business while we lead you through the seasons of the year in rhyme and story, with a special focus on footwear!  Jacob’s Well is a gorgeous, intimate, atmospheric and friendly venue and there will be refreshments on the house in the interval.

When?      Sat 27th March, 6:30 – 8pm

Who for? Adults and children aged 5+

Where?    Jacob’s Well, off Micklegate, York

How much? £5 adults, £2.50 children

Bring:       a special/favourite pair of shoes/boots

To book: contact me on catherine.heinemeyer@googlemail.com or 01904 612418

Telling the myth of Diarmuid and Grainne in the stunningly appropriate situation of Fisher's Hall, Hackfall Woods. Copyright: Hackfall Woods, Photgraphed/edited by Kate Measures Consulting

With my colleague, 6-year-old Conor, who had just made his storytelling debut in front of Mowbray Hall. Copyright: Hackfall Woods, Photographed and edited by Kate Measures Consulting

Stopping by Fountain's Pond to hear audience members' own tales of Hackfall. Copyright: Hackfall Woods, Photgraphed and edited by Kate Measures Consulting

At the end of November I went to Hackfall Woods for a truly fascinating day of storytelling and story-gathering.  In the afternoon, leading families around the woods and all their 18th century ‘follies’, I was primarily doing the telling, but in the evening I met with locals who knew the woods and their history inside out.  (Visit the Woodland Trust website to hear podcasts of both me and local people telling stories). I sat more or less spellbound for a couple of hours by the fire in the local pub (The Crown Inn at Grewelthorpe, highly to be recommended!!!) listening to tales of schoolboy trespassing and pranks on the warden, drownings, brutish logging, horseracing intrigue, Sunday School Treats and much much more!  Thankfully all of this has been recorded on tape for posterity.  Thank you to Paul Mosley of the Woodland Trust for organising a really brilliant day, and to all participants for being such excellent listeners and tellers.

I will be back in Hackfall Woods in the Easter holidays (probably 9th and 10th April) for some family exploration days, which will also involve other artforms and activities as well as storytelling.

Maybe one of the best proofs I have had for a long time of storytelling’s unique power to approach trauma obliquely and allow us to explore it with an open heart.  To break down our everyday defences against the truth.  The documentary sees climate change through the eyes of six or seven inhabitants of Planet Earth in our current decade, each living out their own stories and telling them eloquently.  Some are suffering the consequences of climate change, some are making matters worse, indeed most are doing both these things.  One doesn’t feel moved to judge but to act.

The question for me is then: how can I use stories to help people come to terms with climate change?  Without preaching or judging or bringing people to despair, I mean.  That’s the thought I am taking to bed tonight.

Get your diary ready for here are the details: Thurs 26th November, 8pm, Yorkshire Hussar pub, North Street, York.  Bring a few pence (even a pound or two) for the donations box, but more importantly, a story to share – although enthusiastic listeners are just as welcome.  The pub is laying on candlelight and mulled wine to oil the creative wheels.  We shall see you there!

Here's the poster!

It was a tremendous amount of work for all involved and so many people deserve hearty thanks that I won’t even go into it here.  Now comes a time for reflection and consideration of our options for the future.  ‘York Storytelling’ is now open for business and wants to move forward, but the question is how?  Another festival this time next year?  Possibly.   And other exciting side-shoots: the Yorkshire Hussar pub has offered us a free and welcoming, candlelit venue for a regular storytelling circle…the Forest of Galtres Festival is interested in collaborating with us…we could become bedfellows with the wonderful York Literature Festival…we could work with the council on storytelling shows and workshops….we could move the festival into different venues around the city next year…

So keep your eyes peeled for news on the storytelling front in York.  There will certainly be exciting developments to observe and take part in.