O,man of the white horse!!

Up until quite recently people in the West of Ireland rarely,if ever,sent for the doctor.Ailments were cured using the skills of the local herbalist or in some cases using "pisrógs"(Pronounced pish-rogues) -superstitious cures akin to African witchdoctoring.

One such cure was for the "triuf". Triuf was the Gaelic word for whooping cough. It was believed that the rider or driver of a white horse had the cure for the triuf.
The suppliant,on approaching the "man of the white horse",had to speak first so it was advisable for him/her to stay out of sight until the "white horse"person was close by-then leap out and get in his request.
"A fhear an chapaill bhán,an bhfuil leigheas agat ar an triuf?" "O ,man of the white horse, have you a cure for the whooping cough?"
The man of the white horse was then obliged to give a cure.He could choose any "cure" he wanted .Whatever he prescribed would do the job-anything that came into his head.


Once upon a time,in the West,there were two men who had "fallen out".They no longer spoke to each other and their relationship was bordering on "hatred",or maybe that's too strong a word,but let's say they had a healthy dislike for one another.
It so happened that one of them was the proud owner of a white horse and the other had the misfortune of having a household member who was suffering from the "triuf".
One day the unfortunate,who was in despair from listening to the constant bark of the triuf saw his neighbour,the owner of the white horse,approaching at a distance.He hid out until the horseman was near and then leaped onto the road and shouted"A fhear an chapaill bhán,an bhfuil leigheas agat ar an triuf?" before the horseman had time to speak and who,I suppose, had his hands full keeping his startled animal under control.

Now tradition had cornered the horseman and he was obliged to offer a cure-even to this person whom he thoroughly disliked.
Not to be outdone,and being in possession of a lightening fast brain ,he came up with the following "cure"

Bainne cíoch circe (The milk from a hen's teat)

Á bhleán in adharc muice (Milked into a pig's horn)

'S á súthú le cleite cait (To be mixed,or agitated with a cat's feather)

This folktale was told to me many years ago by my uncle,Mattie,and funnily enough I came across a reference to it in Dineen's Irish-English dictionary of all places.It was said that this story was collected around Tuam,Co.Galway.so,obviously this tale was told all across the swarth of land from Tuam into Joyce Country.

These old cures were crazy,of course (or were they?)Belief is a very potent healer-if only we could harness the mind as easily as harnessing the White Horse

Slán go fóill!