Dan Powell, Cwmtwrch.
Cwmtwrch (..'vale of the wild boar'..) is a small village on the north edge
of what used to be the South Wales coal- fields. The river Twrch runs through
the village; it created both the landscape and the soundscape within which I
grew up.
Dan Powell was a coal-miner who lived in the village. A short man, he
enjoyed what could be described as celebrity status because of his capacity
to move huge quantities of anthracite coal. He would do this on his back, in
very narrow seams, using a pick axe and a shovel. He was also a trout
fisherman,and to my recollection would use any technique short of netting and dynamite.
Fly-fishing was his preferred method. He taught me how to fish.
Dan and his wife Martha had no children. For whatever combination of reasons, they
took to me as I did to
them, so that Dan and Martha Powell became in many ways my alternate parents.
Dan was not a very talkative person. Except in matters of mining, of mine management or of
fishing. On our walks, he would share his thoughts with great intensity. I always enjoyed these
discussions, combative and opinionated as
they were. Occasionally, he would smile at a point well made; otherwise, he
was not much given to smiling.
After his workday, Dan would take a bath in a galvanised tub in front of
the fire in the kitchen. Sometimes, when I had arrived home early from school,
I would clean his back with a wash cloth and eventually take him a warm towel
which Martha would have had warming near the fire. To me, Dan's taking a bath
in front of a fire, burning coal which, in effect, he had hacked out of the
ground earlier in the day, was a circumstance as complete and as satisfying
as the fire itself. This was long before I had ever heard let alone known the
meaning of the term metaphor. I do recall thinking how 'earned' and appro-
priate the situation was.
On Fridays, pay-day for the miner, he would give me 'half-a-crown' as
pocket money. Each time, I would protest and he, in turn, would insist; I
would spend the money during the week at school. We would never smile during
this ritual.
Veined earth and arm
Of an earlier, and now, present shining,
Coaxing yesterday's light out of this day's fire.
'Best in the valley boyo'
(yes, that's all they ask)
Rodin-firm with the day's work done,
He speaks of the day's raining,
And I, shy with shame
In the shadows of strength,
Coax dust with soap.
'Fishing should be good tomorrow'
(yes, that's all I ask)
We all ask; and to me,
He gives with warmth,
With a firmness which outshines all smiling.
W. David James