Two Close calls with Agony Bags

I have had two traumatic experiences with bag pipes in my life.

The first was while I was studying in Newcastle in North-east England, and some friends and I decided to spend a weekend at the Rothbury Folk Festival in the northern part of the County of Northumberland. I like their folk festivals. There were twelve pubs in the town, and each one was a venue for live music throughout the weekend. On Saturday evening, we all gathered for a ceilidh in the church hall, and then retired to our tent camp for the evening. On Sunday morning about 10:00 AM, we found ourselves with a pint in front of us, again in one of the local pubs, when we heard the strains of a pipe band passing in front of the pub. Like so many rats of Hamel, we filed out of the pub and followed the pipe band as it made its way to the village green. Once there, and as one, the band stopped, turned, and started marching towards us. Although its pace was not quick, still, we had to find a way to get out its way, and decided to file along the side of the buildings to the other end of the green. Now safely behind the band once again, we all listened until the band abruptly stopped, turned, and started to march towards us again. At that point we ducked into the nearest pub and ordered a pint.

Over twenty years later, I still wake sometimes in the night, covered in nervous sweat, having once again been pursued in my dreams by a slow but relentless pipe band playing 'Amazing Grace' or some such thing. I escape with my life, only to be pursued again, and again...













The second time was in the Roman city of Gerash in Jordan. Gerash was part of a system of ten Roman cities (the Decapolis) that spanned the eastern frontier of the Roman empire in the eastern part of the Mediterranean. All of these cities competed with each other, and because of this, Gerash had a hippodrome (race track), theatre, odeon (music hall), and wonderfully paved streets and a religious temple area. Gerash is somewhat unique in that it does not have a modern city built on top of it. One can roam the ancient Roman streets without all sorts of other historical distractions.

Kira and I decided to sit for a while in the theatre, and climbed the many steep steps to the top seats. And then it was there again... the tortured strains of a bagpipe. We made our way down the steps to get a closer look, just as two Bedouin soldiers marched in. They were wearing their full-length gelavias, with stripes on their arms and epaulets on their shoulders, and full head-dresses. One was carrying bag-pipes, and the other a bass drum. They took their place in the middle of the stage, and began playing Beethoven's Ode to Joy. They ended their song riffing on an Arabic ditty.

It was at that point that I nearly collapsed under the weight of such cultural disparities. This was a Roman theatre in an Islamic country. The musicians were Bedouin in the oddest looking military uniforms. They were playing bag pipes and a bass drum. They were playing Beethoven in a ruin. Yikes.

Have a listen to the video below. The screen below is blank, but if you look you will see a 'play' button.


To this day I wince at the strains of the accursed Agony Bags.