Where Have All The Giants Gone To? A tribute to some giants I once knew.

Written for Capel Cymraeg, the Welsh Church in NYC, 2024

Giant: Noun

Definition as per the Oxford: An imaginary or mythical being of human form but superhuman in size. And. A person of exceptional talent or qualities. In astronomy; a giant is a star of great size and luminosity.

In Welsh: the word is Cawr

From the proto-celtic word Kawaros meaning hero

Cognate with the Irish word Curag meaning champion

Some people think giants are stuff of legends, but not me, I believe in giants. 

All you have to do is look around Wales, and there’s evidence of giants all over the place.  They’re responsible for many of our geographical delights and ancient wonders – who else but giants could carve out and make standing stones stand in formation, you tell me.                  

And we know some of these giants’ names, passed on to us today through the whispers of time. You’ve got Rhita Gawr who’s cairn covered body is the snowy cap of Y Wyddfa, Wales most impressive mountain, and Clochan an Affir – giants causeway in Ireland built by the giant Ffion and his idle hands, and Idris who gave us Cadair Idris, a majestic landscape created by the giant as he sat on the mountain to study the stars for hours on end.  Yes, his bum left a mark as evidence of his passion for astronomy.

The first giant I encountered was my grandfather, or Taid, as I used to call him. He was born near Newcastle, in a house built from stolen stones from Hadrian's wall.  My Taid was a regular kid, a farmer who worked with shire horses in rented fields behind his house.  And one day, around the age of nineteen, he was plucked from his tiny little village, and like so many other boys of his time, was made to follow in his father's footsteps, and went to war.  

Taid was a hero, not only to me, but he was also an actual World War II hero, he had the medals and the scar to prove it.  Not that he ever talked about it, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t – I’m not sure which of those statements is true.

Taid was moved by the army to Porthmadog to recuperate from his injuries, that’s where he met my Nannan, and he never left.  He quickly learned Welsh and pushed the memory of jumping out of planes and landing on foreign beaches out of his mind; he replaced them with new memories; walks on Morfa Bychan, drives to Trawsfynnydd,  hela mwyar duon, collecting blackberries for a pie, he and I would never bake as we’d eat all the berries on the way home.  He worked the railway line, everyone knew Bill.  He was my hero.  He put Lyons treacle syrup on his toast in the morning, would boil me hot milk for my cornflakes. He would lift me up, and put me on his shoulders so that I could be tall like him, so that I could see what he could see in the land of giants… I thought I could see forever, and I never ever wanted to climb down.

If you are in the habit of giant spotting, I think a good sign that someone’s a giant is that they don’t brag about their own greatness, they just get on with being great. 

Women can be giants too – as evidenced by the poem about the formidable Jemima Fawr.

The Women of Fishguard by Harri webb

The Emperor Napoleon

He sent his ships of war

With spreading sails to conquer Wales

And land on Fishguard shore.

But Jemima she was waiting

With her broomstick in her hand,

And all the other women too,

To guard their native land.

For the Russians and the Prussians

He didn't give a damn

But he took on more than he bargained for

When he tried it on with Mam.

Their cloaks were good red flannel,

Their hats were black and tall,

They looked just like brave soldiers

And were braver than them all.

The Frenchmen took one look at them

And in panic they did flee,

Cried oo-la-la, and then ta-ta,

And jumped into the sea,

And said to one another

As back to France they swam,

We'd have stayed at home if we'd only known

That we'd have to take on Mam.

The Emperor Napoleon

He was a man of note,

His hat was sideways on his head,

His hand inside his coat.

When he heard the news from Fishguard

His sorrow was complete,

Oh Josephine, what can it mean?

My soldiers all are beat!

I'll make this proclamation,

Though a conqueror I am,

You can conquer all creation

But you'll never conquer Mam!

Here’s a funny thing about giants, and it’s worth remembering, they’re not always big and tall. 

In fact, one of the most ferocious giants I knew was only five foot five, or thereabouts. Dafydd Hywel, or DH to his friends, Dad to his kids, Tadcu to his grandchildren.  He was a giant in every which way; born in Garnant, son of a coal miner, he was an actor, director, producer a warrior for the Welsh language and Wales.  You certainly never forgot him once you met him. DH died last year leaving behind a gaping hole in our cultural landscape.  As a producer, he ignited the imaginations of hundreds of thousands of Welsh children by producing the only touring Welsh language panto in Wales; he wasn’t interested in Cinderella or Dick Whittington, he wanted to tell our stories, stories rooted in our history and our mythology, stories to make us feel proud to be from Wales.  He understood the power of storytelling, he understood the value of community, and its importance for the survival of Welsh culture.  I am so grateful to him on so many levels, he gave me my first professional job on stage.   I played a bird, Y Drudwy in the story of Branwen from the Mabinogion; Branwen, there’s another famous story about giants, and it was the actor Dewi Pws, who played the giant King, Bendigeidfran. 

Pws was born in Swansea, he traveled to meet with the Dalai Lama for his tv show Byd Pwd, Pws’ World, you might know of him as an actor in Grand Slam, or as a supporter of the independence movement in Wales, or for his songwriting with Tebot Piws and Edward H Dafis.  He wasn’t just playing a giant on stage in a panto, he was a giant. 

I used to think that I had to run away from the giant mountains of Wales so that I could cast my own shadow, but I see now that I was wrong, the giants are there to protect us, to teach us how to weather a storm, and I find myself searching and asking around, where have all the giants gone to, and what do we do now? 

I’d give anything to climb up on my grandfather’s shoulders again, to be a child in a crowd of children sitting in awe of the giant Bendigeidrans famous words A fo ben bid bont… He who is a leader let him be a bridge.

And then I think of one of Pws’ lyrics –

Be in search of the flamethat burns in your heart

And don’t expect a clear answerto your petty doubts

And don’t investigate the empty depths

that are in the back of your mind

It’s not by yourself the path forward you’ll find.

It’s time to come together…

Dewch at eich gilydd Dewch at eich gilydd

Dewch at eich gilydd yn gytun

From Idris to Pws, we are a nation of giants, and although giants don’t live forever, they leave giant imprints on all of us, therefore, a fo ben bid bont i gewri y dyfodol – let these leaders be a bridge, so that we can learn how to be the giants of tomorrow.

Diolch.