Today G came to me with the news that a man we both respect a great deal is ill. When one is an indeterminate but venerable age, kidney failure is bad news. G and I were making plans to visit Ragbar da soon, and in the middle of the logistics he burst into an outpouring of what the loss of a blacksmith will mean to the village.
‘We just cant manage without one. This is the grass cutting season and my wife alone has a pile of daratis to be sharpened. How will the season continue without a blacksmith?’ I smiled inwardly at this extremely pragmatic view of the matter. But I do not doubt G’s very real regard for this man. In G’s point of view, the village would come to a standstill without Ragbar da. We spoke a little more about him..about the muzzle loader he had made himself and till last week, still patrolled the fields with, about his knowledge of bees and weather systems, and grafting, and herbs.
And again G returned to the blacksmithing. ‘He tried to teach his son, but the boy is useless’. Here it was. Ragbar da would probably be the last blacksmith our village would have. There will be no one to carry on this work. In Jaitoli, the breaking down of the last carding machine in the village ended the local spinning industry. With the cooling of the blacksmiths forge would come a decline in grass cutting, in the keeping of cows, in agriculture. This is a heavy load that Ragbar da has shouldered all these years. I hope to be able to meet him in time to tell him.
