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Snippets of History |
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Date/Era early 1900s |
Topic People |
District Trotternish |
Person Dr Murdo MacKinnon (an Dotair Beag) |
| A hundred years ago, people here had to rely on the services of the doctor in Uig. His services were 'included in the rates', according to one of the testimonies given at the Napier Commission. When I was growing up here, there was an unforgetable character we called an dotair beag. Murdo Mackinnon was born in 1882, on the croft house of 6/18 Stoighseall. They said that as a baby, the wee doctor had arrived prematurely - with his head open. You could hold him on the palm of your hand. His mother was too afraid to wash him so she rubbed olive oil onto his tiny body. He was so tiny, he was wrapped in wool and put to sleep in a man's knitted stocking. Then, when he did sleep, everyone was amazed to see him alive the next morning. But in his life he did much more than just survive. He came from a clever family. John became a minister. Annie went on to be a teacher. Morag was John Bertie's grandmother. Lachie kept the family croft. Ronald became the big doctor, and Murdo became the wee one. Murdo was clearly never going to be a six footer, but when he reached just five feet in height, he stopped growing altogether. But what Murdo lacked in physical stature, he made up for with a brilliant and witty mind. A lot of stories have survived about him. He served on the mainland as a doctor for a time. And on one occasion home on holiday, he attended a local church service. The minister was preaching on fashion and the inappropriate style of the women of the day. Afterwards someone asked the wee doctor whether he had enjoyed the service. 'Oh it was fine', he replied, 'but I took the wrong book with me - I should have taken J D Williams' catalogue'. When he was our gp here in Stafainn, his house was on Brogaig brae, above the post office. The doctor was much to the fore in the 1930s and 40s. Visitors to the area were intrigued by him. They could hardly believe that he could really be the local practitioner. One day a couple of visitors met him and struck up a conversation. 'Incidentally,' they asked, 'can you count?' 'Yes, a little,' replied the wee doctor. 'How far can you count?' they asked. 'I can count to one hundred,' he replied. 'Oh, can you? - how many of us are here then?' they enquired. 'One hundred,' he replied. 'And how do you make that out?' they quizzed. 'I'm one,' he told them, 'and you're two nothings!' A local seaman was home on leave and was anxious to get the peats cut before he would leave. Time was running out, and he knew he wasn't going to manage it. He thought he would make an appointment with the wee doctor. Without a moment's hesitation, the doctor had the diagnosis all sussed out. He gave the seaman a sick line, alleging that in his professional opinion he was suffering from 'peatitis'. He married a nursing sister from the south west of Scotland. They adopted a daughter - Jenny Thompson - who later spent her life in Fort William. She married a Ferguson with connections in Heribusta (Kilmuir). The Dotair Beag was one of the first in the district to own a car. Nobody by the wildest stretch of the imagination could class the doctor as a good driver, but these were the days when one didn't require a driver's licence, and to be fair he always got there. He was fond of his dram, his pipe and his cigarettes. The doctor also had a donkey which was rare in the district. The donkey was useful for taking home the peats and putting hay and corn into the barn. But like his master, the donkey had special gifts. Apparently, he would bray all night and day to warn of coming storms. The wee doctor's sense of humour saw him through to his eighties. Whilst in Broadford Hospital during the last few weeks of his life, a Stafainn missionary with failing sight was doing rounds at the beds. He paused at Murdo's bed and enquired where he could find the wee doctor. 'Oh,' replied Murdo, 'he died the other day'. Witty to the last, the story went all around the district that the wee doctor had passed away, though in fact he lasted some further weeks. The wee doctor is buried in Clachan cemetery. | |