What’s a lost story we should know about?
Just one? Oh no, there are millions of lost stories we should know about, and I know a good place to start. Because I’m known to ask google a myriad of weird questions, I found this delightful piece a while back which led me to seriously ponder the significance of oral stories. For me, some of the most important narratives in my life are oral simply because of the lack of good photographs and paperwork from my mysterious entrance into the world. *mysterious music here*
To add to that tradition of telling stories by mouth, my daughter and I have established a new tradition in the past six months of storytelling before bed. Sometimes these stories are true (When Mommy was little, she loved frogs), and some of them are pretend (Once there was a princess who never brushed her teeth). The only rules? They must be brand new and no repeats (which, as it turns out, might be the furthest from oral tradition as possible). First I sing her a song, then she sings me a song. After that, I tell her a story and she tells me one. Every night, we do this. All original songs and stories. And she’s turning 4 years old this April, but I’ve got to hand it to her—the imagination she possesses is a piece of real magic I feel incredibly lucky to witness. I write my favorites down, but I’ll be honest here. Some of them have floated off into the nothing never to be remembered again.
So, what’s the deal with telling stories orally? What’s the big difference between telling stories and reading them? And why should we care about the stories that are lost when our memories fail us?
Well, if you’ve ever paid attention in history class, I’m sure you’re at least familiar with the notion that when we study our past, we can make better informed decisions for the future. Additionally, it’s well known that mythologies (most of which originated from oral versions) serve many purposes: recording bits of history, teaching lessons, commenting on the state of things, giving glimpses into cultural history. Songs, poems, epics, even dances have formed around these narratives to help us lodge them firmly into our memories. And when we retell these stories, we tap into a cultural memory of what it was like to be human then and there as opposed to here and now. We find both similarities and differences.
But we do this with literature, too. In fact, that’s where my study lies (obviously, as I write for a blog hosted by my English professor). So what’s the big deal? What’s the big difference between written stories and stories handed down by mouth and campfire? And how many have we lost?
According to the article I linked above, there are pieces of MEMORY we still have access to that have been handed down parent to child for over 7 millennia. Which, by the way, is 2000 years before writing was invented around 3100 BC. And as we know, writing can be lost. We’ve lost quite a bit already. But 7000 year old oral stories? This alone is some 400 generations of stories handed down by oral tradition. More than just swinging by to hear your grandma tell you about the good old days, that’s for sure. Some scientists have speculated that these oral stories can even reach back 10,000 years. Because when people stay in one place, they learn everything about that place, and their stories are the best way to see what they’ve seen.
For instance, an Aboriginal tribe in western Australia has passed down a story concerning hunters going after a large bird known for it's deadly kicks. If killed, it would feed the tribe for a great while. If a hunter got kicked, however, he was unlikely to survive. This story dates back anywhere between 5000 and 10,000 years ago, and the bird featured in the story, mihirung parimgmal, is long extinct. By dating volcanic rocks, scientists have been able to verify the accuracy of this picture of time. This story was useful at the time because it offered hunting instructions and warnings; it's useful to us now because we can explore the world of the past through story.
Another fun instance comes from the Kalmuth people of Oregon who tell a story that explains Crater Lake; the story describes how the volcano that used to be there terminally erupted and fell in on itself, thus creating the crater and the lake. Bonus: this story involves a volcano god who was in love with a beautiful woman, but upon learning that he couldn't have her, threatened the people with "fire and fury." Luckily a rival god, their protector, took the volcano god down. And voila! Crater Lake! Scientists have verified this story as well. The Klamath people have been warning their children away from Crater Lake "lest they disturb the evil god within" for 7600 years now.
See, we can learn about our past by looking for physical evidence like erosion on the land or the way the sediment has layered, but we can also learn about our past by asking questions of the people who, unlike many of us, have stayed in one place long enough to stay true to their own stories, protect them, breathe them over and over.
But after all, we’re all in the narrative of human history. This story is both lost and ongoing. What we do with the stories we tell will matter in the future. Personally, I’ve always loved beginnings. And I think oral history records are a great start to unlocking some of the lost chapters of the beginning of humanity, the same way asking my parents to retell stories of their lives is a great way to unlock some of the lost chapters of my own life.
Just one? Oh no, there are millions of lost stories we should know about, and I know a good place to start. Because I’m known to ask google a myriad of weird questions, I found this delightful piece a while back which led me to seriously ponder the significance of oral stories. For me, some of the most important narratives in my life are oral simply because of the lack of good photographs and paperwork from my mysterious entrance into the world. *mysterious music here*
To add to that tradition of telling stories by mouth, my daughter and I have established a new tradition in the past six months of storytelling before bed. Sometimes these stories are true (When Mommy was little, she loved frogs), and some of them are pretend (Once there was a princess who never brushed her teeth). The only rules? They must be brand new and no repeats (which, as it turns out, might be the furthest from oral tradition as possible). First I sing her a song, then she sings me a song. After that, I tell her a story and she tells me one. Every night, we do this. All original songs and stories. And she’s turning 4 years old this April, but I’ve got to hand it to her—the imagination she possesses is a piece of real magic I feel incredibly lucky to witness. I write my favorites down, but I’ll be honest here. Some of them have floated off into the nothing never to be remembered again.
So, what’s the deal with telling stories orally? What’s the big difference between telling stories and reading them? And why should we care about the stories that are lost when our memories fail us?
Well, if you’ve ever paid attention in history class, I’m sure you’re at least familiar with the notion that when we study our past, we can make better informed decisions for the future. Additionally, it’s well known that mythologies (most of which originated from oral versions) serve many purposes: recording bits of history, teaching lessons, commenting on the state of things, giving glimpses into cultural history. Songs, poems, epics, even dances have formed around these narratives to help us lodge them firmly into our memories. And when we retell these stories, we tap into a cultural memory of what it was like to be human then and there as opposed to here and now. We find both similarities and differences.
But we do this with literature, too. In fact, that’s where my study lies (obviously, as I write for a blog hosted by my English professor). So what’s the big deal? What’s the big difference between written stories and stories handed down by mouth and campfire? And how many have we lost?
According to the article I linked above, there are pieces of MEMORY we still have access to that have been handed down parent to child for over 7 millennia. Which, by the way, is 2000 years before writing was invented around 3100 BC. And as we know, writing can be lost. We’ve lost quite a bit already. But 7000 year old oral stories? This alone is some 400 generations of stories handed down by oral tradition. More than just swinging by to hear your grandma tell you about the good old days, that’s for sure. Some scientists have speculated that these oral stories can even reach back 10,000 years. Because when people stay in one place, they learn everything about that place, and their stories are the best way to see what they’ve seen.
For instance, an Aboriginal tribe in western Australia has passed down a story concerning hunters going after a large bird known for it's deadly kicks. If killed, it would feed the tribe for a great while. If a hunter got kicked, however, he was unlikely to survive. This story dates back anywhere between 5000 and 10,000 years ago, and the bird featured in the story, mihirung parimgmal, is long extinct. By dating volcanic rocks, scientists have been able to verify the accuracy of this picture of time. This story was useful at the time because it offered hunting instructions and warnings; it's useful to us now because we can explore the world of the past through story.
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| The Klamath people in Oregon passed on a story about the formation of Crater Lake, shown here, for some 7,600 years. Arcataroger/Wikimedia Commons |
Another fun instance comes from the Kalmuth people of Oregon who tell a story that explains Crater Lake; the story describes how the volcano that used to be there terminally erupted and fell in on itself, thus creating the crater and the lake. Bonus: this story involves a volcano god who was in love with a beautiful woman, but upon learning that he couldn't have her, threatened the people with "fire and fury." Luckily a rival god, their protector, took the volcano god down. And voila! Crater Lake! Scientists have verified this story as well. The Klamath people have been warning their children away from Crater Lake "lest they disturb the evil god within" for 7600 years now.
See, we can learn about our past by looking for physical evidence like erosion on the land or the way the sediment has layered, but we can also learn about our past by asking questions of the people who, unlike many of us, have stayed in one place long enough to stay true to their own stories, protect them, breathe them over and over.
But after all, we’re all in the narrative of human history. This story is both lost and ongoing. What we do with the stories we tell will matter in the future. Personally, I’ve always loved beginnings. And I think oral history records are a great start to unlocking some of the lost chapters of the beginning of humanity, the same way asking my parents to retell stories of their lives is a great way to unlock some of the lost chapters of my own life.
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