Funerary Grounds: Nunhead Cemetery

Originally published on April 15, 2020.

Nunhead Cemetery is one of the great Victorian and Magnificent Seven cemeteries located in London, England, established in a ring around the outskirts. It was originally known as All Saints’ Cemetery and was consecrated in 1840. Nunhead was owned by The London Cemetery Company however in 1960 they went bankrupt and the ownership changed to the United Cemetery Company. The UCC couldn’t run it profitably though and in so, it closed in 1969 and was left to rest with locked gates. In 1975, the Southwark Council apparently bought the site for £1 however, not much was done to it until they were awarded Lottery funding in the late 1990’s which allowed for the Friends of Nunhead Cemetery to renovate and restore the grounds. A good part of the cemetery is still overground with many gravestones and paths inaccessible and impossible to find.

Almost 270,00 people are buried in Nunhead and an unknown number of them came from the churchyard of St. Christopher le Stocks, being previously buried in the City of London. The first groups of bodies were moved in 1867 during the development of the Bank and then again in 1933 due to more redevelopment. St. Christopher le Stocks was located on the site that is now the Bank of England’s Garden Court. One of the most fascinating memorials in Nunhead is one commemorating the lives of nine young boys (ages between 11 and 14 years old) from the 2nd Walworth Scouts. Eight of them had been on a camping and sailing trip at Leysdown on the Isle of Sheppey when their boat overturned and they drowned. The ninth was a boy from the training ship Arethusa named Frank Masters, who died trying to help them.

Nunhead Cemetery holds an extra special place in my heart. It was in October of 2018 that I was fortunate to be able to attend Imelda Almqvist’s Norse Shamanistic course in England with one of my sister witches Megan Anderson-Kelly of Freyja Healing Arts. I remember dragging my feet a little, feeling nervous about the financial aspect and as usual, my own fears were coming in hot. Megan had already bought her plane ticket months and months ago, she knew she was going - no question about it. The clock was ticking for me and at the very last moment it became clear to be that I was indeed supposed to go. It was one of the few urgent, a-ha moments that I’ve had in my life. It felt like when you realize you’re in love with someone and suddenly feel the need to run to them at that moment to spill your tender guts.

So, my Swedish ancestors hit me over the head with a ‘finally’ and came in quick to help me get this show on the road. I got the last seat available on the same flight as Megan’s and the person on the phone told me that if I had called a minute later, it would have been gone. The next thing I knew, I was dragging my oversized luggage to baggage check with my sister witch, for a trip that would entirely change my life forever.

I had spent all of Tuesday sleeping in illness on the bathroom floor. Classes had only started Monday and I was confused and upset why I was the sickest I’d ever been. I had been introduced to Hel (Norse Goddess of the Underworld) for the first time the day before, journeying to her to report back about her essence to the group. She threw me off a cliff, which my teacher had said was pretty on par for a Death Goddess. The other deities I worked with also reigned over the underworld but this relationship was different. Hel slept with me in the bed while I was in the process of shedding. She visited me in my dreams, journeys, workings, and in the middle of the night, pulling my skin off again and again for a week long rebirth.

Wednesday morning I felt like a new being. I looked different. I was moving slow but I could swear my hair had grown longer. I was also feeling grateful I was going to be able to meet for class today and witness the concerned and friendly faces of my new family. It had only been one day, but I had missed them and felt ready to participate in our important school business. I had been looking forward to this the most, as we were meeting in Nunhead - a place of communion in so many ways. I remember not being able to breathe as Megan and I walked along the tall and exposed walls, foliage peeking and reaching out as if to brush our skin. Maybe I was holding my breath in anticipation. My heart racing and the crows stirring, I knew the moment we would walk through the gates all would be different. I knew that the cells in my body were going to shift from ghostly pale and fragmented to possibly something resembling a person more together.

With many graves still unreachable and undetected, it felt as though every step took needed to be carefully thought out and each foot arch needed a designated path. It is like this for other yards, to be mindful about where you travel and to honor the land you are on - however it was as though each step held such importance, those above and below watching me line up with the footprints of my long distant past and my coming future. Megan and I would go back as often as we could in-between, before or after class.

Mother, Teacher, Lover, Wise One, Underworld Queen - I understood now what others meant when they talked about their Devotee. Hel wasn’t just a guide or deity that I would work with, but instead a life long partner who would help me dress in the morning, brush my hair when it got too knotted, sternly yell at me when I was fucking up or going the wrong way. She would show me my grave and guard it fiercely. Put herself in my shoes and literally, walk with me, our leg muscles moving in lively circular motions. She would tell me when I still wasn’t living and push me off a cliff again, if that’s what I needed. Hush me to sleep when my worries got the best of me, bring me back to Nunhead, wrap me up in luscious plants and show me corners of the world I’d never seen before, and continue to hold my crown, waiting for when I would be ready.