Lore 315: All Shook Up

Lore

This episode explores the intersection of natural disasters and folklore, examining how various cultures use stories to explain or predict e

Key takeaways

• Similue island residents survived the 2004 tsunami because their folklore provided specific warnings about environmental changes.
• Japanese earthquake legends transitioned from a dragon-headed insect to the giant catfish Namazu, which became a symbol for the working class.

Main topics

• Earthquake mythology
• Tsunami survival folklore

Notable quotes

Sometimes a good story can save your life.

Conclusion

Folklore acts as a psychological tool to bring sense and structure to

Transcript preview

Speaker 1 (0:00) Whether more or less, NPS is the solution for pension. Starting from Rs. 250, anyone can join for 18-80 years. Next contribution is only Rs. 10. An investment pattern like government employees. For more information, go to the nearest bank branch or CSC center. And call toll-free number 1800-110-708. Or go to the website of PFRDA. NPS is necessary. Speaker 2 (0:32) First, the ground began to tremble. Then, the waterline receded as if the ocean itself were running from something. And finally, a mountain appeared on the horizon. Except it wasn't a mountain at all. It was a wave. When the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami hit Indonesia, nearly a quarter of a million people died. It was a catastrophe on a level most of us can't even imagine, and hopefully never have to. Entire towns wiped off the map, whole families destroyed. And yet there was one island nearby with an almost impossibly low death toll. It's called Similue, and out of its 80,000 residents, fewer than 10 people died. And no, it wasn't because the tsunami didn't hit Similuwe. It definitely did. But you see, the people there had a secret weapon that helped them survive. A weapon that had been honed and cultivated for hundreds of years, passed down from one generation to the next. A weapon called folklore. There was a tradition there of telling stories about tsunamis. Stories that outlined the warning signs and early clues that a tsunami might be coming. These folktales told you what to do and what not to do, and most importantly, when to evacuate. Here in the States, most of us grow up with things like Three Little Pigs and Cinderella. The folks in Similue grew up with tsunami tales. And because of that vital difference, when the ground began to rumble, just like it had in their bedtime stories, they knew exactly what to do. In short, when it comes to natural disasters, sometimes a good story can save your life. I'm Aaron Manke, and this is Lore. Speaker 2 (2:36) Our little planet experiences millions of earthquakes each year, although most are too small for us to sense. And as for the ones that we do feel, well, as frightening as they are, at least we understand what causes them, the shifting of the tectonic plates that make up the Earth's crust. But of course, we didn't always have that knowledge. In fact, the theory of plate tectonics didn't fully coalesce until the 1960s. And before that... Well, it's not that we didn't have any explanations. They were just a bit more colorful. For example, in Japan, their earliest earthquake legends blame an insect called the Jinshin Mushi, a ten-legged oblong giant with the head of a dragon whose burrowing causes the earth to shake. Of course, there isn't really a huge earthquake-causing bug. That's silly, right? No, earthquakes are actually caused by a massive eel, so big that all the islands in Japan sit on its back. This eel theory enjoyed its time in the sun for a while, until finally a catfish known as Namazu usurped it as the cause of earthquakes in Japan. Even today, signs in Japan warning that a road will be closed because of an earthquake depict a smiling cartoon catfish. Meanwhile, parts of Siberia tell of a large mammoth living underground that Yes, causes earthquakes, while in other parts, quakes are blamed on a subterranean sled dog. The tremors occur either when the dog shakes snow off its back or scratches at fleas. Now, you might be sensing a theme here. The idea that there's some giant underground animal causing the earth to shake is honestly found in a ton of cultures. The Chinese have a giant ox, while the Algonquin tribe in America have a giant tortoise. All over India, it's a giant mole, but hey, at least a mole is supposed to be under the ground to begin with. And then again, not everyone assumes it's a zoo down there. In some cases, it's a god. In New Zealand, for example, Maori tradition holds that quakes are caused by a god named Ruamoko, the child of the sky and the earth, who lives deep beneath the ground. And whenever Ruamoko takes a little stroll down there, the world above shakes. In other Maori stories about Ruamoko, though, he doesn't actually know how to walk at all. That would be because he's a baby. Some believe Ruamoko was, and still is, in his mother's womb, and earthquakes are him kicking his mother's belly. Meanwhile, over in ancient Greece, Poseidon wasn't just the god of the sea. He was also the earthquake god. And you might be smart to leave him a sacrifice or two, because if an earthquake did occur, well, that was a sign that Poseidon was very, very mad at you. Now, admittedly, the notion of an angry god punishing people with natural disasters is alarming. But even worse, that would be Pythagoras' theory. You see, he claimed that earthquakes had nothing to do with gods at all, and everything to do with the dead fighting underground. Now, some Greek philosophers did try to be more specific. Aristotle, for one, had some ideas. But let's just say he didn't quite nail it. Because Aristotle's theory happened to be that the earth was passing gas. Basically, he thought that wind entered the ground via caves, and earthquakes were those winds trying to escape. Yeah, I think I prefer the theories about gods. Speaking of which, in Norse mythology, I bet you can guess who's at fault for the fault lines. And I'll give you a clue. He's also blamed for just about everything else. That's right, the trickster god Loki. But earthquakes are no practical joke. You see, in punishment for causing the death of the god Balder, Loki had been chained underground. And in some tellings, Loki's chains were even formed from the entrails of his own sons. According to the stories, all day long, poisonous venom from a serpent drips on his face. Loki's loyal wife, Segan, stays by his side, holding a bowl up to catch the venom. But sometimes the bowl gets full and she has to empty it. And when that happens, a few drops of the venom hit poor Loki, and he writhes in pain, causing earthquakes in the human world above. These explanations may seem fantastical to us, senseless even, but in truth, they're just the opposite. What is senseless is the tragedy and death that befalls a community when an earthquake hits. And those stories, these gods and giants and animals, they're a way to bring sense back, to look at the carnage and be able to say that there is a reason for it all. Maybe a strange reason, maybe even one that's horrifying, but a reason nonetheless. Because sometimes belief is the only thing that stays solid when the very ground that you stand upon begins to crumble. It was March 31st of 1650 when a huge 7.5 magnitude earthquake struck the city of Cusco, Peru. Homes collapsed, schools and markets were flattened, and although the worst of the