Showing posts with label Occitania. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Occitania. Show all posts

Friday, March 11, 2016

Aucamville Project 14: Qu'es aquò?

Aucamville/Aucamvila, Tarn-et-Garonne.  Photo by Daurade
For the 0% of the French population that only speaks Occitan, the Tarn-et-Garonne has conveniently placed a new sign at the entrance to our village, just at the end of the Fondemenge cul-de-sac.  I see this sign at 1 o'clock (biplane tail gunner-wise) every time I leave the confines of our cozy little hamlet/a.k.a. nest of vipers.  This is a good thing for those non-existent Occitan monolinguals, it'd be hard to know you were in "Aucamvila" if you only had a sign for "Aucamville."  Una soleta lenga basta pas jamai!

Occitan is a Romance language spoken in southern France, some valleys in northeast Italy, Monaco, and the Val d'Aran in Spain.  In the Val d'Aran  it is an official language and the only place I have seen it used on street signs and stores in a widespread way.  The region where this language is spoken is unofficially called Occitania.

Many scholars don't see Occitan as one unified language, and others include Catalan in the same family; indeed, some dialects of Occitan are closer to Catalan than they are to other Occitan dialects.  In fact, until the end of the 19th century, Catalan was often considered an Occitan dialect.  Don't tell a Catalan that, though.  Anyway, this could have been a politically-driven interpretation pushed to dampen Catalonia's nationalist aspirations.

There is a kind of friendly rivalry among both peoples where Occitania meets Catalonia in the southwest of France, but there is more deeply a kind of solidarity between them as threatened minority languages, though Catalan has flourished in the last 50 years and seems here to stay.  Things get really interesting in the natural border between the two, the Pyrénées.  Every valley seems to have its own distinct dialect more or less influenced by Spanish, Catalan or French.  The people here will all have a smattering of French and Spanish and Catalan.  This is especially true of Andorra, where all three languages are spoken widely though Catalan remains the language with which Andorrans identify the most.  Andorrans, however, are a minority in their own land, and a proper tally of ts linguistic groups might reveal that Portuguese is also widely-spoken among the Principality's guest workers.  Occitan and Catalan quite naturally blend elements from both Spanish and French, and they blend with one another as well.  It wouldn't be surprising to see Portuguese enter the mix; thanks to the Troubadours, legends from northern Portugal also flourish in the southwest of France, especially in Gascony, and in Asturiano, a.k.a. "Bable" (Babel?), they pronounce "o's" like "u's" ("quesu" and "vasu" for "queso" and "vaso")  -- much like in Occitan.

Google Earth
The Catalans, who have fiercely protected their language since the depredations of Franco, have officially recognized a form of Occitan called Aranès in the Val d'Aran.  Here you'll see signs in Spanish and Catalan, as well as some French.  But you also see signs in Aranès.  In Toulouse, street signs are in French and Occitan, and neighboring municipalities often have a second sign at the edge of town with its name in Occitan:  Toulouse - Tolosa (pronounced Toulousa -- remember to "o" sound like a "u").  But these French examples are more a tip of the hat to history; it's not really a part of the quotidian linguistic reality:  the Town Hall is the "Mairie" not the "Ajuntament".  Even in the Val d'Aran, I'm not sure how widely it's spoken.  Dominic Smith concludes that Aranès probably has "the brightest future" for all the Occitan dialects, but that it seems to be losing ground to Castilian Spanish or other more "practical" languages.  Some schools in the southwest of France have offered Occitan as an elective beginning in middle school, and there are bilingual programs and even Occitan primary schools known as Calandretas (which though private, are free).  But elective and bilingual programs are being cut as belts tighten and parents increasingly favor focusing on languages such as English.  Toulouse has become less provincial and isolated, attracting foreigners such as myself and French people from other regions who are not as connected to the language as people with deep roots here.  Very few people speak it, especially outside the home, although a few phrases are commonly heard at the café.

From Wikipedia: "Occitania" with its major dialects
Occitan has at various times been known as Limousin, Languedocien, Gascon, and Provençal, but nowadays these appellations refer to dialects.  Other dialects include Auvernat, Gascon, which include Aranès and Béarnese; there is also an Alpine dialect.  The Toulousain dialect is called Moundi.  A clear-cut taxonomy of these dialects is difficult and there are differing classifications of them, just as there are disagreements over the wider question of their relationship to Catalan.

There are two principal written standards:  a classical norm and one created by Frédéric Mistral in the early 20th century.  The Mistral standard is based on Provençal and similar to French -- both of which have led to criticism from later Occitanists.  Mistral is largely unknown outside of -- and within -- France, but he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1904, for his poems in Occitan. 

Attempts to standardise the spoken language have been a 20th century phenomenon and to me, doesn't reflect the historical and even current reality of the language.  Some speakers reject this process altogether because they take pride in their way of speaking it, which may differ from even a neighboring village (or may have differed -- it would be hard to hear this in action).  The French are very attached to and strongly identify with their "terroir" -- a connection often more profound than they have to the Revolutionary-era departments.

Proposed flag for an idependent Occitania.

Some Occitanists are cultural flag-bearers, but for others there is a political element to their "Occitanism".  This tends to be very regionalist and while some call themselves nationalists, they bear little in common with the far right the word usually describes.  On the contrary, they tend to celebrate multiculturalism within their own borders and feel like a distinct cultural element of France's melting pot (France doesn't seem to have taken to the "salad bowl" theory -- Occitanists usually self-identify as French as readily as Occitan; in fact very few see themselves Occitan at all, but Languedocien, Gascon, or Provençal, etc.)  They tend to be strongly in favor of decentralization; conscious of the fact that Paris has suppressed their language and their culture, they favor local autonomy.  Standardization of the language is philosophically incompatible with this viewpoint.

Proposed flag for an independent Catalonia; the Estelada or "Lone Star" (1918)
In Catalonia, the people have struggled to maintain their separate identity from Madrid, and language is a critical part of that effort; that is why they have allowed the Val d'Aran to make Aranès their official language and to recognize its autonomous government, called the Conselh Generau (General Council).  It's status is actually unique in Catalonia; it's basically a comarca, or county, but with a few additional powers.  This is both a nod to its unique cultural identity and also its isolation; until not so many years ago the valley was cut off from the rest of the world during the winter months.  A tunnel finally connected it to the rest of Spain year-round.  I have already mentioned there is a measure of Catalan / Occitan solidarity based on cultural similarities and their shared struggle as minority languages, but there are deep political roots dating back to the Middle Ages.  Toulouse had far more dealings and affinity with Barcelona than Paris for centuries; it's only been a relatively short time that Toulouse or even the south has been part of France.

Occitan was once the language of a culture which, compared to the north, was arguably more artistically refined; a culture in which Jews, heretics and soothsayers were generally more tolerated; and where women had the right to inherit and manage property.  It was once the language of poetry and songs the troubadours spread it throughout Iberia, traveling the St. James Way.  Because the southerners did not adhere to the custom of primogeniture, where the eldest son inherited all the domains of the father, but a system in which property was divided among all the children, the Midi was a patchwork of tiny fiefs, dwarfed by the vast holdings of the King of France and his vassals.  The abundance of little holdings meant an abundance of small armies; to go to war wasn't  matter of calling up a couple of powerful vassals but trying to wrangle up and hold together far more plentiful forces with varying allegiances, rivalries, petty squabbles and power games.  More refined or not, they proved no match for the French. 

The northern crusades against the south were essentially land grabs propagandized as fights against heresy (Catharism above all) and were bound up with the French version of manifest destiny, not to expand west beyond the horizon, but turn up all the corners of a map of Gaul so that they curled back and touched each other at the tips just above Paris.  This might help explain the modern-day Occitanist's sympathy for political devolution.  People have longer memories in Europe, but this centralizing tendency was an obsession during the Revolution.  Louis the XIV said "I am the state".  It was highly centralized, around his person.  This was true of the Medieval kings, but they were more itinerant, the court and thus the center of the Kingdom was wherever the king happened to be.  Louis XIV might have agreed, but by this time he had become almost synonymous with Versailles; the Revolution re-centered it on Paris, not a man, and they ran roughshod over regional variation to make this vision a reality:  the metric system replaced older and local systems, the new departments replaced traditional regions which had been named for the aristocrats who controlled them, or vice versa:  Armagnac, Foix, Corbières, etc.  The elderly and even some middle-aged folks will still tell tales of getting hit with a stick for speaking "patois".  There's a famous photo of a school, a roofed-over area, a wall painted with the words "Speak French, Be Clean" which is actually quite sad.  This is in Catalan France, but the same attitude was held in Occitan France as well.

Aiguatébia-Talaus school

The campaign has worked.  It is a dying language.  Native speakers are mostly elderly; three of my neighbors who spoke it are either dead or have succumbed to Alzheimer's.  There was an Occitanist wave of Basque or Breton-style nationalism in the 70's, and there are still some people of that generation who speak and teach Occitan -- many of them in the aforementioned threatened bilingual programs.  Some younger people, determined to preserve their heritage, are also learning Occitan and at least one bar in Toulouse encourages the use of Occitan within its walls.  Local radio and TV have programs in Occitan and local signage is often bilingual.  There is an Occitan community -- several Occitanist political parties and institutes of Occitan studies -- but they don't represent a living language of daily life.  It's not even the predominant language in the Val d'Aran and many French people -- its speakers among them -- don't consider it a "real" language at all.

Only 1.5 to 2 million people speak the language, but it can be found in some fairly far-flung places.  Forty Occitan-speaking, poverty-stricken families from Aveyron established Pigüé, Argentina in 1884.  Protestant Waldenses from Italy fleeing persecution established communities in the U.S., Uruguay, Argentina, and Germany.  One Occitan-speaking group left in 1893 and established what would be become Valdese, N.C.  Both groups brought their Occitan with them.  That means in the Americas, there are traces of both the Alpine and Languedocien dialects of Occitan.  The language is still spoken in Pigüé, but I'm not sure about Valdese.  Cathy Pons' thesis dissertation in 1990 might be an indication:  Language death among Waldensians of Valdese, North Carolina.   

It may well be that soon all we'll have of this language are some field recordings, street signs, and a few die-hards by which to remember what was once the leading cultural language in Europe.

Some phrases in Occitan (w/audio files) 

Coda:
Looking for more information on the leader of the Aveyron colonists, I came across something  interesting.  According to Les aveyronnais dans la Pampa: fondation, développement et vie de la colonies, Pigüé was a hotbed of occultism, Freemasonry and political radicalism starting in the 1890's -- just after the Aveyronaises arrived.  The book mentions the "virulent" protests of the Masonic Logia Emilio Zola against the installation of the Catholic Frères des Ecoles-Chrétiens  in 1905.  

This leads me to wonder what role, if any, Freemasonry has played in the Catalan and Occitan independence movements.  The Catalan independence flag is called the Estelada, or Lone Star, and was inspired by Cuba's flag.  We know that the Cuban flag was designed by a Freemason and incorporated Masonic symbolism, and that the Catalan movement looked carefully to the Cuban independence fight as a bellwether of their own chances if they chose to take on Madrid.  The Estelada has inspired other Spanish separatist movements to adopt the same lone star as a symbol, just as it was inspired by Cuba's flag, itself just one in a long-line of "lone star" flags used by independence movements led by Freemasons in the Caribbean, South and Central America, Florida, and above all, Texas. I know that all sounds rather wingnut, so please see Lone Star Republics for details.  I should also mention that there are a couple of "lone star" flags in Africa.  Need I say that in both theory and practice, Freemasons were all over these African movements as well?  Really, the number of flags is quite significant, so much so that it's increasingly hard for me to say that one flag was inspired by another, but it's more like one guiding ideology led the revolutionaries who waved them to put them on their flags.  So, piqued by that anecdote and that flag, I'm gonna dig around a bit and see if Freemasonry is involved, or not.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Pyramid = Dead Horse

Résidence La Pyramide, Foix
Foix.  Unless you're a Medievalist, you may never have heard of it.  But Foix dates back to the time of Charlemagne, and its rulers, the Counts of Foix, once ruled a County larger than the Kingdom of France....and were certainly more powerful.  That is, until they weren't.  Simon de Montfort, dickhead supreme, never took its famous castle.  As we still happily celebrate in these parts, Old Simon got his head crushed by a stone flung from the ramparts of Toulouse, from a catapult operated by women, so they say, during another of his unsuccessful sieges.  Fortunately for the Toulousains.  "Kill 'em and let God sort 'em out"?  That's a paraphrase from de Montfort, who put some 20+ thousand residents of Béziers to the sword after he captured that unfortunate burg.

Foix is well-known to French kids due to the following lil' ditty, which is a way of illustrating the weirdness of French:  four spellings, four different meanings, with the same pronunciation:

Il était une fois,
Dans la ville de Foix,
Une marchande de foie,
Qui vendait du foie...
Elle se dit : Ma foi,
C'est la première fois
Et la dernière fois,
Que je vends du foie,
Dans la ville de Foix

In English is makes less sense, but this is what it means:

Once upon a time
In the town of Foix
A liver merchant
Selling liver [like, duh!]
Said to himself:  My lord
This is the first time
And the last time
That I sell liver
In the town of Foix

Foix is a sub-Prefecture of the Ariège, a mountainous department on the Spanish border.  It's coat of arms features red and yellow stripes, resembling that of both Catalonia and Aragon.  Historically, this area has longer links with Spain than France.  It's deep in Occitan country, not far from Montségur, where the Albigensian Crusade came to its horrible end as hundreds of "heretical" Cathars were burned alive, en masse.

There are also caves galore around here, a paleolithic paradise.  People have been living here for a very, very long time.

Monuments aux Morts, Foix





Anyway, I just wanted to show a photo of an HLM, or public housing building, called "The Pyramid" with a pyramid-shaped entrance, just down the road from the WW1 monument, an obelisk, which marks the entrance of Foix's town center.  As the title of this post suggests, I've flogged this topic a lot, but it never ceases to amaze me how the French still work the pyramid into their architecture in all sorts of contexts:  parks, monuments, border crossings and here, public housing.  I'm not sure I even need to go into the irony of using a pyramid in the design of public housing.

So, follow my tag for "pyramids" and you'll find more discussion.  At this point, I'm just cataloging examples.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

King Kill 2012: Transvestites in Cathar Country


Fécos
Lent is the 40-day period when some Christians commemorate Jesus' 40 days in the desert by giving up something:  meat, smokes, candies, alcohol.  A time of sacrifice which concludes with the ultimate sacrifice.  Carnival is thought to have originated in the feasts which preceded this period, as the goods which would not be touched were consumed to prevent them from spoiling.  Or just one last fling before the long haul.

I recently had the opportunity to attend Carnival festivities in Limoux, in the Aude.  Cathar and cassoulet country.

Drunken goudil
Carnival is mostly a Catholic tradition, and in the US folks tend to call the whole thing Mardi Gras, even though Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, is actually a specific day in the overall celebration.  They call it Pancake Day in the UK, when people consume....pancakes.  In France they eat crèpes, more or less the same thing.  To me, this would be evocative of the Last Supper and an echo of the (in some denominations) weekly rite of Communion, a syrup-covered version of the Staff of Life.

It should come as no surprise that many scholars speculate that Carnival has pre-Christian roots, most likely in the Roman Saturnalia, itself based on the Greek Dyonisia and other Near Eastern Festivals.  As with New Orlean's Mardi Gras or Rio's gigantesque spectacle, most celebrations around the world involve parades and masquerades, features which originated in Italy and then spread to the rest of Europe.
Nicolas Sarkozy, gangster clown

Under the cover of masks, Carnival was a time of great liberty and is often associated with licentiousness and sexual energy, a time when the reigning social order is turned on its head.  This was definitely an aspect of the Saturnalia, in which the servant played the master and vice versa.  Several related celebrations, featured a king for a day.  We will see this is also true in Limoux and is a clear example of one of James Frazer's central themes in The Golden Bough, traditions Frazier sees as survivals of widespread pre-Christian practices.

As for the name, some say it comes from the Latin words for the removal of meat (carne levare)
Diddled by a goudil
or farewell to meat  (carne vale).  Some scholars say it comes from "carrus navalis" the latin words for the adorned wooden boats used by masked revelers to carry an icon of Isis to the sea during the festival known as Navigium Isidis, celebrated in Italy as late as 416 CE and in Egypt into the 6th century.  This may explain we call the trailers used in parades "floats", at least indirectly.  History records that in Medieval celebrations the first floats were indeed decorated barges, hence a "float", but perhaps these barges hearkened back to earlier practices.  It is also worth noting that the word for "float" (as in a parade float) in French is "char," used in Quebec to mean "car."  It seems likely then the word also derives from the Latin "carrus."  Interesting to see that in French and English the words derive from words for or associated with adorned boats, which would be evidence of a sort for the claim that Carnival traditions derive from the Navigium Isidis.
Fécos

Basically, Carnival can be found wherever Christians are.  Africa, Asia, the Americas.  Everywhere except the Muslim world, basically.  Carnival features masks, parades, music, revelry and defiance of social convention.  I would like to focus on Limoux because it's the only one I've been to recently and well, the phenomenon is too widespread to cover it as a whole.

Limoux's carnival is hailed as the longest in the world, from January to March, but it doesn't run continuously.  Each weekend, different groups, which are almost like neighborhood-based secret societies, represent their quartier.  In this it reminds me of the Palio in Siena, a famous horse race of peculiar character, in which neighborhoods are in competition...in fact, I thought this was only a Siena thing, but Palios exist all over Italy.  It's not impossible that as Carnival spread from Italy, this neighbor versus neighbor element also derives from Italian custom.  This also would support the idea that the Carnival has a Roman point of origin.

Goudil as 18th C. Lady
Carnaval in Limoux has roots in the 14th century, when millers celebrated the delivery of their tithes to the local monastery, walking about town throwing grain.  In the early 16th century this became the ritualized Carnaval celebration when revelers walked the town accompanied by bands dressed as millers, wearing a sack of grain over the shoulder.  These days the bands are led by  fécos, or masked dancers, going from cafe to cafe for a drink, throwing confetti and followed by masked citizens in outrageous garb (goudils). The goudils on this day were very sexual in nature, with large breasts, carrying penis-shaped water pistols and wearing S & M-style outfits:  vinyl skirts, fishnets, whips...

The fécos all do a stylized dance, wear the same masks, outfits and gloves, and carry a kind of whip called a carabéna.  This latter resembles the long stick often carried by the Virgin Mary, itself an echo of the accoutrements of certain Greek and Roman Goddesses.

Trouser snake
The end of the Carnival takes place on a night celebrating the blanquette de Limoux, the local sparkling wine, at which time the excesses of the Carnival period are symbolically expiated.  A kind of trial is held (in the local dialect of Occitan) and a straw effigy, personification of Carnaval, is cremated in a fire fed with the carabénas, masks and confetti.  The bands and goudils dance together around the fire, honoring one last time their "god" and crying for Sa Majesté Carnaval (His Majesty) singing "Adieu, pauvre Carnaval".

Grotesque goudil
The burning of a straw man is so widespread that one is led to wonder if this is a vestige of an almost universal (pan-European) pre-Christian religion.  In Britain this survives in the festivities of Bonfire Night and Guy Fawkes' Day.  In the US we see it has survived in the Burning Man festival, Santa Fe's burning of Zozobra (aka "Old Man Gloom" ) and in the Bohemian Grove's Cremation of Dull Care ritual.  At Burning Man the cremation marks the end of the festival, as in Carnival, whereas Zozobra and Dull Care would serve an opposite function; instead of burning away license and abandon--a concluding ritual--these latter symbolise the burning of worldly concern and seriousness--a commencement.  All of them may hearken back to a lost age when actual human sacrifice was performed for the expiation of sin and/or to placate powerful spirits.

Heady stuff and worth looking into further.  Any number of books are available on the subject.  I've made a (not very musical but literal) translation of the Limoux Carnaval song, from the French, but I include only the original Occitan version below.

Adieussiatz, amics!

Adieu paure Carnaval
  • Adieu paure Carnaval
(Occitan)
Adieu paure, adieu paure,
Adieu paure Carnaval
Tu t'en vas e ieu demòri
Adieu paure Carnaval
Tu t'en vas e ieu demòri
Per manjar la sopa a l'alh
Per manjar la sopa a l'òli
Per manjar la sopa a l'alh
Adieu paure, adiu paure,
Adieu paure Carnaval

La joinessa fa la fèsta
Per saludar Carnaval
La Maria fa de còcas
Amb la farina de l'ostal

Lo buòu dança, l'ase canta
Lo moton ditz sa leiçon
La galina canta lo Credo
E lo gat ditz lo Pater
  • Goodbye, poor Carnaval
Goodby poor, goodbye poor 
Goodbye poor Carnaval
You're leaving and I'm staying
Goodby poor Carnaval
You're leaving and I'm staying
To eat garlic soup
To eat oil soup
To eat garlic soup
Goodby poor, goodbye poor 
Goodbye poor Carnaval
The youth party
To greet Carnaval
Marie makes breadrolls
With household flour
The ox dances, the ass sings
The sheep recites his lesson
The hen sings the Creed
And the cat says the Pater