Clodagh Finn: Let’s repeat the ‘storytelling census’ of the 1930s

The State should take inspiration from Ruth Medjber's 365-day 'Sin Scéal Eile' project and revive the Irish Folklore Commission's schools' collection now hosted on duchas.ie

‘I was reminded of the Schools’ Collection again this week with news that photographer Ruth Medjber is setting off on a 365-day tour of Ireland in a project called Sin Scéal Eile.’ Self portrait by Ruth Medjber

Before suggesting we repeat it, I might first remind readers what the Schools’ Collection was because, sadly, this treasure trove of legends and wonder tales is not anywhere near as well-known as it deserves to be.

First, a warning: If you click on www.dúchas.ie, which holds some of the 750,000 pages of local history and oral tradition collected nearly a century ago, you might not emerge again until St Brigid’s Day.

The Schools’ Collection was a kind of storytelling census of Ireland, which brought together lore on a dizzying array of topics from the wicked witch, Petticoat Loose, to the local patron saint; from prayers and craft traditions to riddles and cures for any number of ailments suffered by both humans and animals.

Here, for instance, is a cure for that most seasonal of ailments, the cold, courtesy of Mrs Peter Coyne of Beagh Beg, Galway. You’ll need six eggs, six lemons, 1lb of brown sugar and half a pint of rum. “Break the eggs and put into lemon juice, shells included. Leave aside for 24 hours. Add rum and sugar and beat well. Put mixture into bottle. Take a wine glass after meals.”

Report back on how that goes.

HISTORY HUB

If you are interested in this article then no doubt you will enjoy exploring the various history collections and content in our history hub. Check it out HERE and happy reading

As we approach Nollaig na mBan, a day that has happily been reimagined into a full-bodied, joyous celebration, here’s a reminder from Tonavane in Co Kerry that it was once seen as a meaner version of the big Christmas that preceded it.

As Peter Moriarty writes: “During the twelve days of Xmas we have great fun. The last day of Christmas is the sixth of January. This is called small Xmas, it is often called Woman’s Xmas in our district.

On that day they say, ‘Nollaig na mban, Nollaig gan mhaith’ [Women’s Christmas, a no-good Christmas]. The reason for saying this is because all the good things are eaten and drunk before that night.”

Here’s another Nollaig na mBan story from the pen of Máiréad Ní Aodha of Killorglin in Co Kerry that I’d never heard before:

“Two men remained up until twelve o’clock on Little Christmas Night, and went to a well to watch the water turn into wine and they were never seen or heard of again.

“They took a gallon with them to bring a gallon of wine home, and they were to have a great night. On that night it is not right to leave the house without water. A few buckets are filled with water and the water left uncovered.”

(It doesn’t say if that water is turned into wine but you could try it, although maybe not given the fate of the two misfortunates who went to the well)

Another Nollaig na mBan tradition

And, finally, a salutary version of Little Christmas traditions from Pól Ó Céirín of Kilmovee in Co Mayo, whose mother passed on this story:

“Nollaig na mBan. On the twelfth night the people collected twelve rushes, and dried and peeled them. They then steeped them in melted fat and lighted them with the whole family present. Each took a rush.

"If there were not twelve people in the family, neighbours’ names were substituted. The first rush to go out, its owner was to die first and so on with the rest.”

See what I mean? It’s quicksand, of the most delightful kind.

The project, which was supervised by the Irish Folklore Commission between 1937 and 1939, was impressive in its scale. In that timeframe, some 50,000 schoolchildren between the ages of 11 and 14 were asked to transcribe the stories of their regions into a series of copybooks distributed to 5,000 schools.

The children gathered material from their parents, grandparents, neighbours — anybody with a story to tell that matched the 55 designated themes — and they brought the results to their schoolteacher who compiled a master book for each class.

With input from the Department of Education and the Irish National Teachers’ Organisation, the Schools’ Collection gathered hundreds of thousands of pages of manuscripts to give us a lasting insight into the Ireland of the 1930s and, indeed, the stories over many centuries before that shaped it.

Those stories continue to sustain, inform, and entertain.

Duchas.ie connects us to the past

The truth of that was brought home with poignancy recently when Kathryn Watson got in touch from the UK to say that she had logged on after hearing me singing the praises of the Schools’ Collection online (a thing I do when I can).

She has four Irish grandparents and was delighted to find stories from her grandfather’s home place, near Ballina in Co Mayo, which she reads to him. He is 90 and lights up when he hears stories of home.

“The Dúchas stories give me something to talk to him about and ask him questions, where he can feel empowered to give an opinion and talk… The only thing I’d say as a suggestion to the people that run the site is to record them in an Irish accent of the county. It doesn’t sound as good with my Leeds accent!”

Kathryn has also started reading the Killala, Mayo stories where her grandmother is from: “They’re the absolute sweetest stories.”

Ruth Medjber's 'Sin Scéal Eile'

I was reminded of the Schools’ Collection again this week with news that photographer Ruth Medjber is setting off on a 365-day tour of Ireland in a project called Sin Scéal Eile (That’s Another Story).

Ruth Medjber grabbed attention with her imaginative covid-era project 'Twilight Together — Portraits of Ireland at home'. Now she is embarking on 'Sin Scéal Eile', where she will talk to and photograph a new person around Ireland every day of 2026. File picture: Patrick Bolger

In the same way that her inspired covid project Twilight Together — which photographed families through their front windows at dusk — took the pulse of a nation during those exceptional times, her new project, a year-long photo series, aims to capture a slice of Irish life in 2026.

Ruth will meet one person every day in 2026 — people from all walks of life, and from every corner of the country. She will take their photograph and then ask them to share a story. “This could be anything — a memory from childhood, a piece of folklore, or a simple account of their day,” she says.

For the best part of the last three years, she has been photographing Hozier in countries all around the world.

Now, she wants to photograph hundreds of people — in one country, at home. (To take part, find her on Instagram).

“I’ll be turning 40 in 2026 and I want to create something meaningful that will last a lifetime," Ruth says.  

I loved shooting my last book, the windows series. But surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the photography I loved, but the chats.

“I loved the connection I felt with all the people. 

"People outside of my own usual social circle, people I would probably never ordinarily meet. I got so much from that, from hearing their stories.”

And there we are, back to the incredible power of stories again.

Wouldn’t it be great if the State took inspiration from this creative chronicler and considered a version of the Schools’ Collection for the 21st century? Thanks to technology, it would be cheap, fast, and very easy to do.

Just think of the prejudice-shattering insights it would give us too; new narratives that might stop us getting stuck in the same old story in 2026.