Rock-a-bye nightmares

Press, 19 November 1982, Page 22

Rock-a-bye nightmares

YVONNE EVANS, in these columns last week, asked if “Code Red” was any worse than some nursery rhymes, with their emphasis on murder, torment, cruelty, physical violence, racial discrimination and house-burning. Today, she turns to lullabies, with equally disastrous results.

“Hush-a-bye baby” — or else ... A number of infant lullabies, like pre-school nursery rhymes, contain a surprising degree of violence. Just as the old woman in the shoe is exasperated at having “so many children she didn’t know what to do” and eventually “whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed,” so the young mother may become desparate in her attempts to get her baby to sleep and try to obtain peace by intimidation when other methods fail.

At first, a tired mother may promise the earth in order to get a few hours sleep, as in the American lullaby? "Hush little baby, don't say

a word, Mamma goiri to buy you a mockin'-bird, If that mockin'—bird don’t

sing, Mamma goin' to buy you a diamond ring."

On a more modest scale, Baby Bunting is bribed with a rabbit-skin, and another young lad is promised “a fishie on a little dishie when the boat comes in.” Promised food ranges from shorteningbread (United States) to

toasted locusts (Africa). But, when bribery fails, lullabies of endearment and those promising rewards sometimes change to threats and punishments. There is a mild threat, for example, in the pel son of Wee Willie Winkie running through the town rapping at windows and crying at locks to check up on those children not in bed by eight o'clock. An intimidating Bogyman is occasionaly invoked to scare the wilful child to sleep. In English lullabies, bogeys have included Oliver Cromwell. Judge Jeffreys, kaiser Wilhelm, and Adolf Hitler. Long after Waterloo, Wellington (in France) and Napoleon (in Britain) were called upon: "Baby, baby, naughty baby. Hush you squalling thing, I

say. Peace this moment; peace, or maybe Bonaparte will pass this way.

Baby, baby, he's a giant, Tall and black as Rouen steeple, And he breakfasts, dines, rely on’t, Every day on naughty people.

Baby, baby, if he hears you, As he gallops past the house, Limb from limb at once he’ll tear you, Just as pussy tears a mouse. And he’ll be,.t you, beat you. beat you. And he'll beat you all to pap, And he’ll eat you, eat you, eat you, Every morsel snap, snap, snap." In some European lullabies, mothers sing of a bogyman who will hit, bite, or take away a noisy baby. In Spain, there is El Coco (a black man who eats babies), in France, Le Loup Garou (werewolf), and, in Germany, two sheep bite babies’ toes.

Further afield, Japanese infants are threatened with Toto Marumba. a supernatural monster. The Chippewaya Indian mother sings of Weeng, an enormous insect and, in Haiti, there is The Wolf or Big Cat. And, as if the bogyman, in whatever form, is not bad enough, what child would be able to sleep soundly in the cradle when told each night that: "When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Down will come baby, cradle and all.” Or when he is forced to become a confidant of his mother’s grievance, self-pity, fear, or utter weariness, as in this cradle-song from Venice: .... "Hushaby; but if thou hast not sleep, hear me.

Thou has robbed me of my heart and of all feeling. I really cannot think what is your cause for lament That you are never done lamenting." Or this one from Sicily: "My pretty boy, what can I do? Will you not give me one hour's relief?" Many mothers could identify with those feelings, but neither lullaby would do much for the infant’s morale or self-worth as modern child-care experts bid us to do.

“Hnsh. poor child, hush thee to sleep, Thy father is at the tavern; Oh the sin and shame of it all!"

The mother transfers her house-bound brooding and anxieties to the infant, as she curses her husband’s neglect: "All labours are for us

This verbal ill-treatment mav become more severe when the child’s parentage is in doubt:

poor women Who wait at night for our

“I’m weeping and weary with rocking this cradle, And nursing a baby that’s none of my own." And it may result in violent rejection, as in this Spanish cradle-song: “Go away! You are not my child, your mother was a gypsy.” In some lullabies, the youngster is made aware at an early age that all is dot well between his parents:

husbands to come.

Some return drunk, others

return merry. Others say ‘lads, let us kill

the women.’ They ask for their supper, but we have nothing to give them. What did you do with the

two coins? Woman, how careless with . money you are.”

Clearly, here the stage is all set for a domestic dispute. And, as if parental problems are not hard enough for a young child to handle, sometimes his very life may be in doubt. This old English lullaby gives an infant good cause for alarm:

"Bye, O my baby, When I was a lady

O then my poor baby didn’t cry.

But my baby is weeping For want of good keeping Oh, I fear my poor baby will die." Even worse, his big sister, weary of caring for him,

may enjoy dramatising the various sinister tales out of her own child-life, and thus give him more discomfort, as in this South African verse: "Siembamba, Mama’s little child.

Wring his neck, throw him in the ditch. Trample on his head. Then he is dead." And so the young child is expected to drop off to sleep regardless of the turmoil in

his mind: thoughts of bribes and threats, a collapsed cot, various bogymen out to get him, adult problems, his own low self-esteem, and possible early death. Pleasant dreams, babv! :