A guest post from the Raffidy Dumitz Band

You remember us. You’ve seen us at Montol since 2015 and at Golowan, Redruth Wassail, Penryn Mock Mayor and othe Cornish events. Like Montol, we’re fully inclusive and all about participation – if you are able to get to Penzance on a Saturday, find us in the Star at 5 pm join in a couple of practices and if you like the feeling, come along as often as you like.

But at this time of year we have a request. Montol is all about participation and we love that so many of you join in. But although you don’t have to pass an audition to be in our band, we do practise regularly and ask that those of you who are not regulars at practice please respect the work our band members put in and think of their safety by not trying to join the procession among the band.

We will arrange ourselves at the front of the processions, and some bands we know will be right behind us. Please could we ask everyone else who wants to join in to walk behind these bands – we’d love to see you there, playing along with the tunes that you know. We’re looking forward to it!

The photo is by Kev Camidge. One of our band members a while ago suggested we try to reenact the scene in the Stanhope Forbes painting, “Christmas Eve”. So we did.

OK, so why DO we burn the sun?

Time to ruffle the feathers we wear in our hair and in our hats.

Good time to ask.
Life full, as it is for 10 days now, of bending and sticking, thinking and planning, papering and painting, arty farty and engineering and making do – making the Sun.
I made one for the first time last year – in a long line of crafty improvisors.

And had to face the weird, cathartic, ambivalent moment we makers have all faced when it goes up in flames …

but …

it “completed” … it was made to burn.

It was horrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
All that work – but that was what it was for.
And I roared along with everyone else.

The Neo-pagans are distraught – and they’re right – it’s “wrong”.
The logical humanists are appalled – and they’re right – it tells a messed-up story.
The historians are baffled – no one ever did this – and perhaps they’re right – it’s just another invention.

Yep yep yep.

But …

The foundation story goes:
The sun is made from willow and paper – trees –
we burn them – turn them into something new – something ethereal, spiritual –
we send a smokey, delicate, arboreal message out to the green things in hibernation all around us –
the year is turning – spring will come – be not afeared – life will be renewed.

But I feel there’s something else:

Like the scary faces we carve at Halloween – we’re playing a dangerous daring game with sympathetic magic – by declaring the sun as our most urgent need when we fear it might be abandoning us – the world standing still –
we burn it almost to dare it to come back –
we say (in mock hubris) “we don’t need you” – we take the risk (as though we had a choice)
and all the time we know, we believe, we trust, that the year will turn.
And it does.
Every time.
And Spring comes and summer and the year turns … oblivious.

And, definitely, more important than all these things – we do this because it has become a tradition.
The why isn’t actually the point.
It doesn’t need to make sense – that is the logic of the mechanical age (it has its uses but also its curses) –
our faith verifies it.
And the more outrageous it is, the harder to explain or believe … perhaps the purer our faith.

And all the effort we invest is of enormous value just as it is – we’re doing it for something outside of and bigger than ourselves – our community.

Maybe it is a bit silly – but it’s one day a year – indulge us – one day when the world is turned upside down – it’s Montol.

There are many things we don’t understand and perhaps there are some things we don’t have to understand – willingly, openly, oppositionally, choosing to share a belief is part of what binds us together, makes a community sound.

We don’t have to tell dubious stories about ancient occult family traditions, dubious initiations, implausible survivals – what we’ve got, invented though it might be, some of it quite recently, like many other stories, is more than enough … and we can face the world with what we’ve got.
Because for us … it works.

This is not a sermon but a call out for a conversation, a debate and discussion.

Pile on.

There’s a myth that says all the cells in our body are replaced every 7 years and yet we stay who we are.
In fact our red blood cells have a life span of about 4 months, muscle cells last for about 15 years and some of the neurons that survive mahogany are never replaced.
But the average is somewhere between 7 and 10 years.
We’re never the same but we don’t become someone else either.

To be alive, an organism must be able to regulate it’s own internal environment, it should have some sort of structural organisation, it will use energy to convert matter from one form to another – or into something non-corporeal, spiritual, it must be able to adapt to the changes in the world around it, and it should be capable of growing and reproducing itself.
On the evidence of last night’s Gathering, Montol is alive.

The Cornmarket Revellers and the ‘Gyptians signed the ledger just before the Scaleybacks and The Order of The Geep. The next generation danced with old hands, old rivalries and arguments were moved on from and new friendships made.
The Ancient Montol Ledger itself dates back all the way to 2023. Every tradition was once an invention, newfangled.
There’s an idea that those relationships which last are fed by an ongoing, cycling but supportive and gentle rivalry.

It’s obvious that some of the people who will be organising Montol in 30 years time were there and that there will be a Montol 2054.
Any of us who survive to see it will see something quite different but I’m sure it will still be essentially … Montol.

We’re all supposed to subscribe to this shit.

It happens every year:
“Don’t you want Montol to grow?”
“Have thought about sponsorship?”
“Would you be interested in a partnership?”

To be honest: not really.
We have thought about it – we are not complete morons or yokels thank you.
But asking around Team Montol, the answer seems to be the same:
love it and get very excited when hoards of people turn up but …
don’t want to lose that unique party atmosphere.
And we’re not for sale.

We would love to broaden and deepen participation.
But it’s not a numbers game – it’s about allowing, empowering and endorsing active participation.
Dilute the percentage of Poncy Arty Farty Types (and I’d include myself in that tribe), and all those nutjob neopagans (have to admit that as well) and particularly extend the age demographic emphatically downwards (again – have to declare an interest – sigh).
This is and must be Penzance at play, regardless of skin colour, religion, ethnicity, gender, sexual preference, origin or politics (up to a point).

Montol is not one of those events that was created to boost local businesses, though I’m glad that it does; to boost tourism, though I’m glad it does (except for Airbnb!).
We are not Hogmanay in Edinburgh, or Carnival in Rio or Venice for that matter – and most of us, I think, don’t want to be.
We are not a show performed behind fences to fee-paying customers and we are not performing monkeys – actually that’s not strictly true – sometimes we are but we are the organ grinder too or, at least they’re one of our friends.

We’re getting enquiries from local “institutions”, from food vendors all over the country, craft fair people and performers. But we have our own shops, cafes, restaurants and pubs, our own food stalls – why would we fill our streets with someone else’s stuff?

But you need to “wash your own face”, “stand on your own two feet”
– I don’t think schools and universities are there to make money, libraries and museums, even, to be honest, the small venues who keep music alive.
The Montol Tribe has been hugely generous through donations of money, resources and time – this year even more so and I’m sure will continue to support us.

But we are part of the intangible cultural heritage of Cornwall, and of Penwith in particular – we will still need support from Penzance Council, Feast and anyone else we can persuade – we’ll never be able to wash our own face but we will always provide a slightly grubby, rich and resonant cultural event to brighten the dark of the year for everyone here in Penwith. To embody and enact solidarity in the face of a system that would make us isolated individual consumers.

And … we’re big in Penzance … and that’s how we like it.

And we don’t want to break it.

Even out here we have running water, electricity (intermittently) and webby-nets but we couldn’t live without DPD and Evri.
The box was labelled, I knew what was inside, but I still stared at it for 10 minutes before opening it.
What if they were rubbish?
They weren’t.
Step one.
Breathe … move on.

We launched our 2024 Crowdfunder on Saturday morning.

Pitched everything right – donation suggestion, reward and target – we were pretty confident.
Crowdfunder has an amazing system that’s really easy to set up with lots of advice at every stage but they’re like a drug-dealer or a casino – the bastards give you a live feed of people’s pledges and comments –
We are only human.

So Saturday was wiped out – we watched, transfixed, as you guys hit the site.
I wasn’t expecting an email for each pledge but my mail program started to sound like Tom at the head of the parade – ding, ding, ding.

Suddenly on Sunday morning our “conversion” rate dropped from 100% to 33%. I had a twinge of doubt – something was going wrong – we HAD made a mistake – and then noticed that Crowdfunder had put us at the top of their home page – I suppose normal people across the country went: Montol? Fire? What’s that all about?

I was planning to write this post some time later this week – no hurry I thought.

But by Sunday morning we were just over half way to our target and we smashed through it this morning!
Don’t really know what to say … other than thank you all so much.

There are still some badges left – quite a few of you just made donations … some of them very generous indeed.

But I am working on un petit cadeau (and yes, I did try to find the Cornish for that) to replace them – we still have 25 days to go.
We’ve extended the target by £500 to pay for the torches for Tas Nadelik’s Mock Parade down Chapel Street – they are so expensive but help create such a beautiful atmosphere.

OK. Seem to have totally misjudged that one.
Can you get something too right?

I’m always surprised by Montol.
But this has brought tears to my eyes.

The badges are all wrapped and in addressed envelopes but if any one would like to pick theirs up at the Gathering on Sunday 1st December at the Union, we could save on the postage.
Just send a private message.

And please – if you haven’t already – have a look at our Crowfunder page.

Having finished the new Montol website at last, I just want to say a big thank you to all the photographers who’ve contributed so much.
I wanted the site to be as visual as possible – to capture the overwhelming impact, the spirit, of the event – and I think it’s worked.
I’ve tried to credit each one where I could – if you find I’ve made a mistake, or missed a credit, do get in touch.
I’m making a separate page with names and links to honour that contribution – you make us all look awesome.
If there are specific links you’d like – to instagram, your own websites or whatever, do get in touch.

One of the interesting things I’ve discovered though, is that all but one of the photos, except this one by Sally Adams, are by men.
I’m not in any way denigrating that contribution, far from it, but … it’s a bit weird in the modern world.

I’m not sure what difference it makes, if at all, but I’d be intrigued to find out if there are any women out there with archives of images from Montols gone by.

We’d love to hear from you