The Dagenham Idol

The Dagenham Idol (courtesy of Valence House Museum)

Face to face with the Idol

“We’re closed for lunch now,” says the custodian in a heavy Thames estuary accent. “Sorry.” Her keys shift in the old manor house door and she turns to walk away down the gravel drive.
“Er, I er, erm, was hoping to see the Dagenham idol.” 
“Well you can love, of course you can, but after lunch. As I said, we are closed now from twelve to one. For lunch.” She pauses and smiles and then adds, “There’s the walled garden you can look at. That’s open, and of course the cafe is open. They do good lunches and coffee there.” She turns and begins to walk away, her feet crunching on the stones. A great tit chirrups nearby. A chill March wind sighs through the willow. A line of yellow-gilet’d children stream along a path beyond Valence House’s driveway towards a play area, led by a teacher. 

I stand, somewhat forlorn, clothed in rain-damp clothes and disappointment. Self-pity hymns from me. “I’ve cycled over from Chiswick to see it. In fact this is the third time I’ve come here, and each time I’ve come, you’re closed”. 
I sigh and inwardly fume at my inability to check opening times before setting off from home. She walks on towards the long white building that is the cafe, across the garden lawn. I look down at the shiny, rain-wet gravel around my muddy shoes. Then, above the bird song, I hear her ask:

“Is it only the Idol you want to see?”
“Yes”, I say, looking up, “only the Idol”.
“Come on then. Come on love, I’ll open up for you.”

Keys shake again in the old manor house door.
“He’s in there to the right, waitin’ for yer. It’s alright, take yer time. No rush.”

In the silence and darkness of the oak panelled room, we stare at each other, he the god, me the man, separated by time and a thin perspex case. 

Europe’s earliest representation of a human figure, 4,000 years old, stands on a white plinth in the centre of the room. 18 inches tall. Armless with a disc shaped head, a rudimentary rectangular nose, and a large hollow for a right eye. The left side of its face, scratched. A round hole in the pelvis, an ambiguous indicator of gender.

An eternity separates us. The dark, eon-stained wood, grooved and worn by time stares back like icons do, in that impassive and silent way, shawled in mystery. Wood turned into prayer.

Around 2,500 BC, one thousand years before Stonehenge, this votive offering had been buried in the marshy mud of south Dagenham beside the carcass of a deer. It had been unearthed when the foundations for the Ford Motor Plant were being laid in 1922. Archeologists believe that it may have been brought over from Scandinavia, since it is carved in Scot’s Pine which did not grow in England at that time. Some have suggested that the figure might be that of the Norse God Odin, who’d sacrificed his eye at Mimir’s Well as part of his attempt to gain knowledge of other worlds and to understand runes.

Silence blocks its words. Time passes. Dust dances in the light between us. Muddled emotions trickle through me. I am lost as to why this one-eyed figure mesmerises me so.

There is a rustle from the hall behind me. The custodian needs her lunch. I thank her as warmly as I can.
“That’s alright darlin’,” she says, “Anytime.”

Ride Notes;
You can visit the Dagenham Idol, in Valence House, Dagenham whilst riding the Eastern Gems route. Read the full ride details here.