Balm for a Welsh Soul
May 3, 2008
On Friday morning, upon hearing the news that much of Aberdare and Rhondda Cynon Taf would still be represented by the same old faces, our hearts sank.
With a bird’s eye view of the Official Count at Michael Sobell’s Sports Centre, near Aberdare, we witnessed sombre scenes.
The whole Local Election was a quiet, subdued affair. There was no ostentatious campaigning. With an economy unravelling and spiralling out of control, both the electorate and politicians were somewhat confused.
We left this scene of uncertainty for the rocks and hills of the Brecon Beacons, and a walk to Pen y Fan, the highest summit in South Wales.
This was a balm for a troubled Welsh soul.
We searched for metaphors as our muscles ached. But none came. Stealing rest after rest, we listened to the mountain birds and sat quietly as the wind blew gently to cool our brow.
Near the summit, we reminisced on the words Aros Mae’r Mynyddoedd … the mountain they remain and endure, from the Welsh language poem Alun Mabon by John Ceiriog Hughes :
- Aros mae’r mynyddau mawr,
- Rhuo trostynt mae y gwynt;
- Clywir eto gyda’r wawr
- Gân y bugeiliaid megis cynt.
In our personal vanity we may magnify our struggles and tribulations… but these Welsh mountains give one perspective. The dominance of foreigners and their foreign political ideas on Welsh politics will one day come to an end, blown away in the wild winds of history like a fleck of dust.
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