Sacred Sierra

by Jason Webster

  I nibbled on some of the spare bits from the jamón I’d been slicing over the afternoon as plates, cups and cutlery were placed in the sink with a clatter. Perhaps we could leave the worst of it till the morning. Right now all either of us wanted to do was fall into a heap on the sofa.

  I looked across at the now empty space of the kitchen; it was as if something had caught my eye.

  ‘What was that Concha was saying to you as she left?’ I said, suddenly remembering what I’d wanted to ask her.

  Salud smiled, and carried on picking up the mess.

  ‘Nada,’ she said. ‘Nothing.’

  I kept my eyes fixed on her until she looked up again, the smile breaking out into a laugh.

  ‘You know what she’s like,’ she said.

  ‘What was it?’ I said.

  ‘Something about the future.’

  ‘Not more ghosts this time.’

  She shook her head, then paused, bending down to wipe some of the crumbs from the table, catching them in her cupped hand before standing up to look me in the eye again.

  ‘She said she could see children here.’

  CODA: THE TREES

  ALMOND

  (Prunus amygdalus; Ametller, Almendro Valencian; Almendro Castilian.)

  The first plant to come fully into bloom after midwinter, the almond is seen as a symbol of hope and the coming of spring. After the phylloxera disaster of the end of the nineteenth century, many local farmers moved from grapes to almonds as their staple produce, so that nowadays in February and March the hillsides south of the Penyagolosa are awash with delicate white and pink blossom, glistening in the low winter sun. Many of the trees have been abandoned as the farmers and masovers have left the countryside for the towns. But occasionally you catch a glimpse of a well-tended grove on a distant hillside, pink-orange soil laid bare by careful ploughing against a background of thick green.

  Almonds are linked in mythology to the complicated stories of the Phrygian goddess Cybele and her lover Attis. It was said that Attis was conceived after Nana, the daughter of a river spirit, placed an almond in her breast. The almond came from a tree that had grown up from where the hermaphroditic daemon Agdistis had had his male genitalia cut off by the Greek gods. Attis would later castrate himself, thus giving rise to the Cybele-worshipping eunuch priests of Phrygia. Attis – and after him Mithras – is usually represented wearing the ‘Phrygian cap’, later commonly worn by the descendants of freed slaves in Rome; it subsequently became a symbol of liberty in the revolutionary movements of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries: the French Marianne is portrayed to this day wearing a soft red conical cap.

  Locally, almond milk, made by pounding almonds and honey together in a mortar and pestle and then adding water as required, as well as traditionally being a common refreshment is said to cure coughs (it is said to be more effective if the skin and shell of the almond are mixed in). Bitter almonds, despite being poisonous (they contain hydrogen cyanide), are supposed to help prevent drunkenness when eaten just before a night out. Perhaps a memory of this can be found in the common local custom of eating a plate of roasted, salted almonds with the first cold beer of the evening. If the barman himself has prepared the nuts it is quite common to come across the odd bitter specimen or two, usually resulting in the order of an immediate refill to help wash away the unpleasant taste.

  Ibn al-Awam recommends a special fertiliser for almond trees, mixing animal dung with almond shells and leaves; your ‘farm workers’ should then urinate on this mixture until it rots and turns black, after which it can be mixed in with the soil around each tree.

  CAROB

  (Ceratonia siliqua; Garrofer Val.; Algarrobo Cast.)

  Locally, the saying is that the carob tree needs to be able to ‘see the sea’ if it is to survive, a reference to the fact that temperatures below minus five can easily kill it. For that reason this small, compact tree is often found in the east-facing foothills with a cutoff point of roughly 500 metres above sea level. Traditionally it was cultivated to produce animal feed, particularly for pigs and horses, but in times of famine – most recently the period immediately after the end of the Spanish Civil War in 1939 – the seeds were often eaten by humans as well. There are still many to be seen in the area, despite the reduced demand, often huddling alongside similar-sized olive trees. The carobs can be quickly recognised by the richer green of their leaves compared to the light grey tones of the olive.

  Carob trees, along with holm oaks, are said to provide the best shade in which to hide from the midday sun. Ibn al-Awam says that mosquitoes will never come near carob wood.

  The ‘carat’ system of measuring gold and precious stones comes from the ancient tradition of weighing gold against carob seeds. Eventually this was standardised so that a ‘carat’ equalled 0.2 grams.

  Carobs are sometimes referred to as ‘St John’s bread’ as supposedly the Baptist lived off the seeds when he was in the desert.

  Carob is said to be very effective against diarrhoea, while a syrup made from carob, lemon juice and honey is used locally for coughs.

  CYPRESS

  (Cupressus sempervirens; Ciprés, Xiprer Val.; Ciprés Cast.)

  Spain has inherited from the Greeks and Romans the association of the cypress with death and the Underworld. Almost every graveyard you see – usually placed on the outskirts of a town or village – is filled with towering, dark-green cypress trees, hundreds of years old. As with the yew, it has also become a symbol of resurrection and eternal life – the ancient Persians associated the tree with Mithra, the god of light, while no Persian garden – pairi-daeza, hence ‘paradise’ – was complete without cypress trees. For the Phoenicians the cypress was sacred to the goddess Astarte, who later evolved into the Greek Aphrodite. Eros’s arrow was said to be made from cypress wood, while, according to some traditions, Christ’s cross was supposedly made from a mixture of cypress and cedar. The cypress was also Hercules’ tree: he himself planted a cypress grove at Daphne.

  Cypress cones have traditionally been used as a cure for sciatica and rheumatism; in some local villages it is deemed sufficient simply to carry an odd number of them on one’s person, in a trouser pocket, for example. As a cure for haemorrhoids, others suggest boiling the cones in water for ten minutes before drinking, or applying externally via a sitz bath. Similar concoctions are said to be useful against migraines and chest problems. Cypress cones can also be left in wardrobes as a defence against moths. For the same reason, wardrobes and chests for keeping clothes were traditionally made from cypress wood – cut in winter during the time of a waning moon: not only did they keep the clothes inside safe, but the wood is impervious to woodworm. Beds were never made from cypress, however, as this was said to cause impotence.

  ELDER

  (Sambucus nigra; Saüc, Val.; Sauco Cast.)

  Many masos in the area had an elder near the house as both an important medicinal plant, and also because it was thought to ward of the evil eye. A great number have now died, and it is no longer as common a tree as it once was. But the memory of its medicinal properties remains among the older generations. Locally, elderflower water was used to reduce bloating and as a cure for conjunctivitis, while elderflower tea was meant to cure bronchial problems. Pulp taken from younger branches of the tree were used to help heal burns. Pipes were also made from elder wood.

  There is no hint in the Penyagolosa area of the elder being an ‘unlucky’ tree, as it is often regarded as being in the Northern European tradition.

  ELM

  (Ulmus; Om, Val.; Olmo Cast.)

  As elsewhere, elms here have suffered greatly over recent decades, their presence ever diminishing in the face of the Dutch elm disease pandemic. Elms would often be seen in public squares, or in the countryside, often forming a transitional ecosystem between the dry mountainsides and the wetter areas around a river or lake. Some specimens remain, but the famous elm that stood outside the Sant Joan hermitage at the foot of the Penyagolosa has now die
d.

  Elms were highly valued for the hardness of their wood, and the fact that elm wood was impervious to decay when kept permanently wet. For this reason it was commonly used for shipbuilding and bridges: Achilles used an elm trunk to make a bridge and escape the flooding waters of the Scamander and Simois rivers, enraged at his having slaughtered so many sons of Troy.

  Applied externally to the skin, creams using elm pulp are used to help the healing of ulcers and wounds. Ibn al-Awam insists the trees should never be pruned, as this can hinder their growth.

  HOLM OAK, HOLLY OAK

  (Quercus ilex; Carrasca Val.; Encina Cast.)

  The holm oak (‘holm’ being an old English word for ‘holly’) is the nearest there is to a national tree of Spain: it is estimated there are close to seven hundred million of them in the country – about fifteen for every Spaniard. It is a strong, slow-growing evergreen, with small, roundish, prickly leaves whose shape and size are similar to the holly’s (Q. ilex ssp. rotundifolia), or smooth, longer, thinner leaves almost like an olive’s (Q. ilex ssp. ilex). Traditionally its wood was used in the making of ships, resulting in a dramatic reduction in its numbers over previous centuries. It makes exceptionally good firewood and was one of the main sources of material for traditional charcoal-burners. It is particularly suited to dry conditions and likes limey soils, making it ideally suited to much of the Mediterranean basin.

  The acorns of the holm oak, along with other oaks, are used to feed the pigs that produce the finest hams. There is even a categorisation system for jamón serrano, where acorns replace stars. A ‘five-acorn’ ham is the best you can get.

  The shade of a holm oak is often regarded as one of the coolest places in summer, its shade as sought after as that of the carob tree, and for this reason they are often found planted near masos, offering farm workers a corner in which to escape the intensity of the sun. The acorns of the holm oak, made into a tea, were traditionally used as a cure for haemorrhoids.

  For centuries the acorns were ground down and turned into flour in times of famine. Pliny the Elder says this was common in Hispania in the first century BC: ‘Sometimes … when there is a scarcity of corn, they are dried and ground, the meal being used to make a kind of bread. Even to this very day, in the provinces of Spain we find the acorn during the second course: it is thought to be sweeter when roasted in ashes’ (Natural History, Book XVI, ch. 6). This dependence on acorns among rural communities in Spain continued well into the twentieth century. Ibn al-Awam gives a recipe for making bread from ground acorns, but quotes Rhazes as saying that it can be harmful to the liver.

  Similar in appearance to the holm oak is the kermes oak (quercus coccifera; Coscolla Val.; Coscoja Cast.), a smaller, bush-like evergreen plant with similar, holly-like leaves. It is often seen growing around the base of the holm oak, producing a thick covering rarely rising above one metre from the ground. In The White Goddess, Robert Graves suggests the original ‘holly’ associated with the Holly Knight who battles every year against the Oak Knight was in fact the holly or kermes oak. Apart from the similarity of their leaves, the ‘scarlet-oak’, as it was also known, is host to the berry-like kermes insect from which red dye was made in ancient and classical times. There are associations and echoes of the Oak Knight and the Holly Knight in both Gawain and the Green Knight, and John the Baptist and Jesus respectively. The Green Knight enters Arthur’s court brandishing a holly branch, while, according to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus wore ‘kerm-scarlet’ when dressed as King of the Jews.

  JUNIPER

  (Juniperus communis; Ginebre Val.; Enebro Cast.)

  Forest fires have wiped out most of the oldest specimens of this conical tree, but younger ones can be seen sprouting all over the countryside, especially at the colder, higher altitudes, where they poke out of the rocky soil with the promise that one day, some years from now, this will again be a proper juniper forest such as the ones that stood there in the past. It is a prickly plant, its little spindles flashing like stars in the sunlight as you brush past it, savouring the distinctive aroma that rubs off on to your hands, reminding you of sharp perfumes, incense and gin. It is a slow grower, and its wood, along with its cousins the savina (juniperus phoenicea) and càdec (juniperus oxycedrus – Spanish cedar), was prized by local builders for its sinewy strength and resistance to woodworm and other invertebrate threats. Now it is illegal to cut them down.

  According to classical legend, juniper was one of the ingredients Medea used to send the dragon guarding the Golden Fleece to sleep. Locally, it is regarded as being effective for treating fevers: pieces of the root are cut up and then boiled until the water has been reduced by about half: the fever will be stopped almost immediately. The juniper berry is said to give long life, either by an individual eating three or four a day, or by drinking the juice in an infusion. Placing them in your mouth and chewing very slowly is also supposed to help fight respiratory infections. The oil from the berry is supposed to cure toothache, although it can also damage and even break the tooth it is meant to be treating.

  LAUREL

  (Laurus nobilis; Laurel, Llorer Val.; Laurel Cast.)

  Common to the entire Mediterranean area, the laurel is a regular flavouring agent in most regional cuisines. Locally, it is used in meat stews such as a tombet.

  The laurel is usually associated with Apollo, to whom the Pythian Games were dedicated: similar to the Olympics, they are the origin of awarding a laurel wreath to the winner of a sporting event; victorious Roman generals were also garlanded in this fashion. The story of how the laurel became sacred to Apollo refers to his unsuccessful wooing of Daphne, a mountain nymph, priestess of Gaia, Mother Earth. The laurel, which until that point had been eaten by priestesses of Gaia at the oracle of Delphi, now passed over to the young god, who became the overseer of prophesy.

  In the apocryphal gospel of Pseudo-Matthew, the laurel plays a role in the miraculous pregnancy of St Anna, mother to the Virgin Mary. Despairing in old age of never having a child, she sees a swallow’s nest in a laurel tree and prays to God that she might become pregnant. St Anna is particularly important to Gypsies, who celebrate her feast day on 26 July. This is reflected in an Andalusian folk song:

  Entre los árboles todos

  se señorea el laurel;

  entre las mujeres Ana

  entre flores el clavel.

  Among the trees,

  The greatest is the laurel,

  Among women, Anna,

  And among flowers, the carnation.

  Medicinally, the laurel is used to stimulate appetite. Laurel berries mixed with juniper berries and left to soak in wine are also supposed to help women regain their menstrual cycles.

  Ibn al-Awam says the laurel is good for keeping snakes at bay, as they dislike the tree intensely. A branch of laurel hung near a crying baby is also meant to help calm him, he says.

  MASTIC

  (Pistacia lentiscus; Matissa Val.; Lentisco Cast.)

  Mastic is the original chewing gum, said to be good both for teeth and gums, as well as the stomach. In the Eastern Mediterranean, small cuts are made in the branches of the bush to collect the sap, which is then used in making toothpaste, perfumes, hair and skin lotions, as well as modern chewing gum and varnish. This practice is less common in the Western Mediterranean, where traditionally it is used more in infusions to cure gastric problems, as well as rheumatism and haemorrhoids. Locally, mastic baths are said to sooth aching feet, while a mastic mouthwash was used before extracting teeth to prevent heavy bleeding.

  Often found in or around areas of holm oaks, it usually grows no more than a metre in height, with small, round, red berries, turning black as they ripen. It is less resistant to the cold, and is rarely found above 1000 metres.

  MISTLETOE

  (Viscum album; Visc, Val.; Muérdago, Cast.)

  Mistletoe has an important place in folklore here, although its pagan origins have been given a Catholic veneer. This venerated, parasitic plant is associated with S
t Lucy’s Day (13 December, La festa de Sta Llúcia), the first day of Christmas, when schools traditionally break up for the holidays. The link with St Lucy – patron saint of the blind, but also of farmers and writers – is unclear, but may be to do with the symbolism linking the mistletoe (the ‘Golden Bough’) with the sun and light: because her eyes were cast out before her execution at the hands of the Romans, St Lucy is closely associated with all things to do with sight.

  The custom is to take some mistletoe on 13 December and hang it up at midday over a door or a window in the house. It is then left there for the whole year, absorbing any bad luck that might otherwise have entered the home. Having dried out over a few months, the typical grey-green of the plant becomes a deep yellow, hence ‘golden’ in the pagan tradition. On the following 13 December it is cut down and burnt, thus disposing of the unwanted forces captured therein, and a new sprig is hung up in its place.

  St Lucy’s Day marks the first of a series of midwinter feast days with their own proverbs and sayings describing the lack of daylight.

  Per Santa Llucia, un pas de puça

  Per Nadal, un pas de gall.

  Around St Lucy’s, the day is about as short as a ‘flea’s footstep’, while by Christmas it’s the same as that of a chicken. However by the Feast of St Anthony, on 17 January, you can already tell that the light is on its way back: A San Antón, a les cinc en sol – there’ll still be light by five o’clock in the afternoon.

  MULBERRY

  (Morus nigra, morus alba; Morera Val. & Cast.)

  Long before oranges became the principal crop – and symbol – of the Valencia region, mulberry trees covered the landscape, providing as they did the necessary nourishment for the much-prized silk worm. Silk was one of the main industries on which the area’s wealth was based, peaking around the eighteenth century, before witnessing a steep decline towards the end of the nineteenth century as a result of the cheaper silk imports coming from the Far East. Today mulberry farming for silk production has disappeared, but many towns still have Mulberry Squares, or Mulberry Streets, bearing witness to the importance this proud tree with its broad, heart-shaped leaves used to have.