en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en ru en ca es es en ne en en en en en en en en en en en de en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en en ga en en en ga en fr en hu ga ga hu es is ca ru ga ga ga ga ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en es en fr en en ga en sco en ga en en en ga en de en ga en en en ga en de en ga en en en ga en en en en en en ga ga en en en en en en en en en en nb en en ga en en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en de en ga en en en ga en nl en gd en en en ga en nl en ga en en en ga en ga en ga en en en en ga en en en ga en en en en en en en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en ga en en en gd en en en ga en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en
Why I bothered to learn Irish – anoutsiderincamus
I was born and raised in Australia and I came to Ireland and began learning Irish in my thirties. I consider myself to be extremely lucky to have had the opportunity to learn it. While I’m a long way from being articulate ‘as Gaeilge’ I am for the most part beyond the pain barrier that everyone experiences learning a language as an adult. I have had some of the best times of my life learning Irish. But it didn’t take me long to realise that I had also entered a cultural obstacle course.
In the early days I was surprised to find I had to justify myself a lot to people who think the language is worthless. I can’t tell you how many times I was asked ‘Why on earth would you want to learn Irish?’, as if I had had some kind of breakdown and was retreating from the real world into the badlands of a distant past. The companion questions were ‘What is the point?’, ‘What can you do with it?’ and once I was asked ‘Why don’t you go back to Australia and learn an Aboriginal language?’. That is still on my list.
The biggest obstacle I encountered was the ‘shame barrier’.
This really kicked in once I was able to converse in Irish. I would be standing with a group of people in a pub in Galway speaking English when an Irish speaking friend passed by. We would have a quick chat and when I turned back to the group the atmosphere had completely changed. Some people would say how embarrassed they were that I could speak Irish as a ‘foreigner’ when they couldn’t. Others felt excluded and resented it. In their view it was ignorant of us to speak in a language they couldn’t understand in their company. Particularly one that made them feel bad about themselves and perhaps even a little ashamed. I listened to stories about how badly it was taught in schools in these contexts many, many times. So I learned a script that made everything okay. I said that because I was Australian I was let off the hook a bit by Irish speakers and I had an easier time of it than Irish foghlaimeoirí. There may be some truth in that. I also said that because I didn’t go to school here and Irish wasn’t ‘shoved down my throat’ I didn’t have the same emotional baggage relating to the language. I would couch it in familiar terms and that too seemed to make people feel better.
However I do have emotional baggage. It’s just different.
My father was from Wicklow and he emigrated to Australia in 1950 when he was 25 years old. I don’t think he was ashamed of being Irish per se but he was embarrassed by his culture. Traditional music records sent by relatives were hidden away in a drawer and anything overtly Irish was definitely on the nose. We didn’t identify as Irish at home even though my mother is also Irish Australian, and it never bothered me, nor did I feel it affected me one way or another. My father had an accent that we teased him about but that wasn’t unusual in Australia.
When I was a child I asked Dad if there was another language spoken in Ireland and he said there was and that he had learned some at school, but that it was dead. I asked him to say a few words and he began to recite a poem. After the first two lines he faltered and then tripped somewhere inside himself. He was ashamed. It’s a moment I have never forgotten.
Somehow I remembered the first line phonetically and many years later learned that it was a recitation that many of you would be familiar with: An Spailpín Fánach, a tale of misery, of eviction and of exile.
Consequently the idea of coming to Ireland was never attractive to me. When I did eventually come for a visit I discovered that not only was the Irish language alive, there were whole communities that spoke it. There was also a network of people around the country, around the world in fact. This was a revelation. Over the next few years I connected with it gradually and unexpectedly until it became a big part of my life. I certainly didn’t ever imagine that I would be living in Ireland, let alone in the Gaeltacht and speaking a ‘dead language’ on a daily basis.
While undoubtedly all of these events are connected, I didn’t consciously make those connections until I was immersed in the language. I now know where my father comes from and feel that I have some insight into why he felt the way he did about his country and his culture.
In his book Decolonising the Mind the Kenyan writer Ngugi wa Thiong’o says that the most effective area of colonial domination is the “mental universe of the colonised, the control, through culture of how people perceived themselves and their relationship to the world.” He says that political and economic control aren’t possible without cultural control, which “annihilate(s) a peoples belief in their names, in their languages, in their environment, in their heritage of struggle, in their unity, in their capacities and ultimately in themselves.”
I recognise this in my own family, and having been brought up in Australia I recognise it in the devastation wrought on Indigenous Australians. Their diverse languages and cultures were seen as worthless and uncivilised and the view was that they needed to be relieved of them by a paternalistic colonial ruling class. Aboriginal communities have placed language maintenance and revival at the centre of their struggle to regain something of what was taken from them. Language and culture have also become central in defining Aboriginal identity and many would give anything to have their own living language back.
Up until the 1970s assimilationist policies in Australia also extended to non-English speaking immigrants. I have memories in my youth of people speaking Italian, Greek or Mandarin amongst themselves being told ‘to speak fucking English’. Policies that recognise diversity and have supported multiculturalism have done a lot to help change people’s attitudes.
I’ve heard people say that they would love to speak Irish, but they feel that they’re perceived as not good enough by some Irish speakers and so feel rejected. That there’s an exclusivity and an elitism connected to the Irish language. It can be very difficult terrain.
I can only speak from my own experience, but I had my moments when I just wanted to give it up. I’d speak Irish to people, they’d speak English back. It made me feel bad and I felt I wasn’t ever going to be able to communicate. I came to understand that in many small communities the language was spoken amongst people who all knew each other and their respective families well, going back generations. Often the same people were discriminated against for speaking Irish. So it took time and I had to build relationships and trust. Just because I was enthusiastic about learning the language didn’t mean they had to automatically let me in. Some people didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable as I struggled to make myself understood in Irish and so speaking English was an effort to ease my discomfort, and no doubt their own. I realised I had to let people know I was serious about it and make a huge effort. What I found then was incredible generosity and open heartedness.
When it comes to language purists that can be a frightening prospect. I once reversed my car into a pole because I was so worried about my bad grammar after doing a radio piece. I was gripped by an irrational fear that the people listening at home were wielding red pens and marking big crosses through everything I said. I felt ashamed for not having perfect Irish. In a minority language context in particular ‘conservationists’ are important, and they’re usually very nice people. I have to admit I tend to run away from anyone I suspect might be a bit hard core because I get tongue tied. I’m also aware that the Irish I speak is a diluted version. I try not to apologise for it, but I’m aware of it.
When I participated in the march for Irish language rights in Dublin recently I had a few conflicting feelings. I wondered momentarily if I had the right to be there as an Australian. I wanted to be there because I am grateful to every Irish teacher I have ever had and to every person who has ever taken the time to encourage me. I’m also proud to be a part of the Irish language community.
As we walked down O’Connell Street the gravity of the situation really hit home. Irish speakers are marching for recognition and rights as if they are a maligned ethnic minority or indeed an oppressed indigenous people. It seems for many people that is what Irish speakers represent.
A friend from Carna remarked that this was the first day in her life that she had spoken Irish from morning to night other than when she was at home. There were people there from all over the country who make herculean efforts to maintain Irish as a living language both in and outside of Gaeltacht areas. In a recent article Rónán Ó Muirthile made an appeal for public support so that he is able to pass Irish on to his son “so that that deeper heritage survives for all Irish people.”
What I’ve learned is that the world looks very different through the lens of Irish. It has helped me to make sense of it. I can’t express those feelings adequately in your native language, but I can appreciate those who do and that has been a gift. Through them, I feel deeply connected to a language and a culture that I didn’t even know existed.
Posted on March 3, 2014March 6, 2014 by An Strainséir This entry was tagged #Australia, #Gaeilge, #gaelic, #Ireland, #Irish, #minoritylanguage, #postcolonial, #snagaeilge. Bookmark the permalink.
Slán to the Gaeltacht →
113 thoughts on “Why I bothered to learn Irish”
March 6, 2014 at 4:06 pm
What a great article! I had started learning years ago, but fell off the path as no one around me speaks it, in my neck of the woods of America. One of these days, I’ll start back up; just because.
March 6, 2014 at 10:30 am
A Phaula a chara, comhghairdeas leat. Alt fíor-spéisiúil anseo agus scríofa i stíl dheas sholéite. Spreagann sé mothúchán an chaillteanais agus tú sa tóir ar an oidhreacht chultúrtha a ceileadh ar d’athair agus ortsa. Thug mé faoi deara gurbh as Cill Mhantáin d’athair. Is Gael Chill Mhantáin mé féin – ainmhí tearc sa taobh seo tíre! Ach tá na Kehoes flúirseach go leor thart anseo. Beir bua, Seán
March 8, 2014 at 12:45 pm
Míle buíochas duit as an teachtaireacht a Sheáin
March 6, 2014 at 10:25 am
Míle buíochas don píosa iontach sin, a Phaula!
March 8, 2014 at 12:45 pm
March 6, 2014 at 8:36 am
Reblogged this on F E I C I M and commented:
An-phíosa scríofa ag sár-Ghael, mura miste léi é sin a thabhairt uirthi :-).
March 9, 2014 at 9:52 pm
Ah, míle buíochas a Bhríd.
March 5, 2014 at 9:20 pm
Feicim d’ainm anois, Paula!
Tá súil agam go mbeidh seans agam bualadh leat lá éigin le buíochas a ghabháil leat agus muid ag caint as Gaeilge le chéile.
Súil agam go bhfuil sé sun ceart go leor leat.
Chuir tú áthas orm.
March 8, 2014 at 3:02 am
Teachtaireacht álainn.. Míle buíochas. Tá brón orm faoin moill ag teacht ar ais chugat ach tá fáilte romhat é a athbhlagáil! Tá súil a’m go mbualfaidh mé leat lá éigin!
March 5, 2014 at 9:17 pm
March 8, 2014 at 12:46 pm
March 5, 2014 at 10:08 am
Reblogged this on ancroiait and commented:
Píosa fíor-mhaith faoinár dteanga ag míniú i gceart cén fáth a bhfuil náire ar dhaoine faoina dteanga féin. Iontach maith! Ard-mholadh! Duine ón Astráil le Gaeilge a scríobh é as Béarla ionaisc go dtuigfeadh daoine. Ceart ar fad ann. Coilíniú. Rinne sé damáiste agus tá muid fós ag fulaingt. Caithfear caint faoi, an damáiste a athaint, tuiscint, agus é a phlé má tá seans ar bith uainn cúrsaí a fheabhsú. Léigh é le bhur dtoil agus tuig.
March 5, 2014 at 7:09 am
Alt ar dóigh! Cur síos iontach ar an mhearbhall a mhaireann in aigne an Ghaeil maidi lena dteanga dhúchais. Is mithid déanamh réidh leis an bhréag sin gur mhill na muinteoirí an teanga. Chuir roinnt acu neart daoine ó dhoras na teanga gan amhras, ach is é an ná ire a raibh tú ag trácht air, agus an easnamh féinmhuiníne Ghaelaigh atá i gceist i ndáiríre
March 8, 2014 at 12:47 pm
March 4, 2014 at 11:00 pm
Bean Feasa is ea thú Paula! Focail cumhachtach, tábhachtach agus freagra ceart don bhean eile a scríobh an t-alt sa Limerick Leader. Is spreagadh iontach é an t-alt seo! Fair play! Tá súil agam go leanfaidh tu ar aghaidh le scríobhneoireacht mar seo!
March 8, 2014 at 12:48 pm
GRMMA Karen. Ábhair eile b’fhéidir.. Ach níl mé críochnaithe leis an ‘filmáil’ fós!
eibhlin nic stiophain says:
March 4, 2014 at 12:53 pm
Comhghairdeachas a Phaula, thaitin sé sin go mór liom. Is Éireannach as an Achréidh mé féin, agus mé ag iarraidh feabhas a chur ar mo chuid Gaeilge féin. Tá mo chuid thaithí féin an-chosúil leis na rudái a scríobh tú fúthu.
Gearóid Ó Murchú says:
March 4, 2014 at 3:07 pm
Maith thú a Phaula. Tá an t-alt scaipithe agam féin. Cuireann sé i bhfocail an bealach a mhothaíonn go leor againn.
March 4, 2014 at 7:18 pm
Gearóid Ó Murchú says:
March 8, 2014 at 10:15 am
Paula. Bhí sé an-deas bheith ag caint leat aréir. Ní duine mé gur maith liom bheith ag caint ar chúrsaí Gaeilge agus athbheochan na Gaeilge. Is maith liom mo shaol féin a chaitheamh mar a roghnaigh mé thar na blianta. Tá meas agam ar theangacha agus cultúir dhaoine eile. Seo freagra a thug mé ar alt bhinibeach a scríobhaadh sa Limerick Leader coicíos ó shin. Níl a fhios agam an bhfaca tú an talt ach bhí sé dochreidte go bhféadfadh tuairisceoir é seo a fhoilsiú mar iriseoireacht macánta.
Tá go leor aisfhreagraí iontacha tugtha don alt gránna ar leathanach An Limerick Leader. Is fiú iad a léamh. Seo mo cheann pearsanta féin.
My answer to Patricia Feeley, on the Limerick Leader.
Patricia Feehily’s hatred of Irish and the Irish-speaking community may come from her bad experiences in school back at a time when school wasn’t a very pleasant place to be. But really, should she actually despise the people who do speak Irish, because of her experience in school?
I myself attended a Christian Brother’s school in Dublin back in the 50s and 60s, and yes, education was often forced on us by frequent use of their specially-made punishment tool, the leather. In primary school we were beaten for Arithmetic, English, Geography, History, Geometry, Algebra, Christian Doctrine, and yes, also Irish. Right up to Leaving Cert. class we were beaten, for the extra subjects, French, Latin and Book-Keeping.
I came from a completely English-speaking background with no interest in the language but from an early age, I realised that despite how our education ‘was beaten into us’, Irish was very important to me and no amount of beating was going to put me off.
Hence, since I was a teenager, I have used the Irish version of my name, and have as far as possible, lived my life through the language. My English wife had no problem in learning Irish, and although she no longer lives in Ireland, she still only speaks our family language, Irish, to our two adult children.
I have for many years lived in the Gaeltacht, a place and way of life I love. I am self-employed, and run my little business through Irish.
Like many bilingual people, I respect other identities. When visiting other countries I do my best to learn a bit of the language of that country so as to show respect for their culture.
It is not easy to be an Irish speaker in a predominantly English-speaking country. (It is certainly not easy to raise a family through Irish). I don’t get grants to speak Irish, nor would I want them.
I don’t expect Patricia Feehily to learn, to speak or to love Irish. But I do want the right to do so freely myself. Neither do I hate English.
(And, by the way, I do hold dear, the right to celebrate our minority language and culture, as we did on the streets of Dublin last week)
March 8, 2014 at 12:21 pm
Freagra iontach atá ansin a Ghearóid. Ní bhím féin ag plé an ábhair ach an oiread, ach cheap mé go léireoidh dearcadh difriúil gnéithe eile don scéal. Tá súil a’m gur léirigh..agus tá mo dhóthain ráite agam anois! Míle buíochas duit as an teachtaireacht. AnOutsiderinCamus:)
March 4, 2014 at 7:16 pm
March 4, 2014 at 9:11 am
So much I empathised with Paula – álainn cloisteáil uait arís – tá tú ar ais in Éirinn mar sin? xxAriel
March 4, 2014 at 7:16 pm
Tá mé ar ais le fada Ariel. Súil a’m go bhfuil an saol go maith leat & GRMMA!
Pingback: Irish Rights Are Indigenous Rights? | An Sionnach Fionn
March 3, 2014 at 11:19 pm
Maith thú Paula! Iontach ar fad. Níl mórán Gaeilge agam, ach thug do scéal fuinneamh dom! GRMA.
March 4, 2014 at 7:15 pm
Tá fáilte romhat a Phádraig. GRMA féin
An Duine Gruamach says:
March 3, 2014 at 10:26 pm
Thog mi fhèin Gàidhlig na h-Alba aig an oilthigh, agus tha mi ag aithneachadh dìreach dè tha thu ag ràdh an seo, Phaula. Tapadh leat son an alt seo!
March 4, 2014 at 7:15 pm
Tapadh leat féin Duncan
Catherine Ní Ghuairim says:
March 3, 2014 at 7:51 pm
An phíosadh scríbhneoireachta. Go leor le foghlaim againn ar fad as seo. Comhghairdeachas a Phaula Kehoe
March 3, 2014 at 9:47 pm
Tú féin a Chatherine a d’iarr orm é a scríobh tar éis oíche deireanach agus cómhrá bríomhar sa chlub. Caithfidh tú do bhlog féin a bhunú, beidh mise á léamh!!
Daibhid Ó hÁrgáin (‘Dáithí’) says:
March 3, 2014 at 4:30 pm
When you use Irish you are connecting not just with Gaeldom but also with all threatened cultures. I have lived in Mexico, Bolivia and Brazil where the dominant culture’s reaction to indigenous languages is quite similar to that you described. Of course, it is practical to speak Spanish in Peru, Portuguese in Angola and French in much of North Africa – but a little investment of energy in minority cultures helps us appreciate humanity’s rich complexity.
March 3, 2014 at 9:47 pm
March 3, 2014 at 4:09 pm
Go hiontach a Phaula agus go raibh maith agat as ocht an t-alt barántúil sin; ainilís den scoth atá ann comh maith le insint cumhachtach macánta. An íomhá a rith liom agus mé ag léamh an cur síos faoin paráid trí Sráid Uí Chonaill – agus bhí mé ann comh maith – ná ‘strainséirí ina dtír féin’. Is iontach mar atáimid choimhthiú uainn féin trí forsaí an coiliniú. Tá obair le deanamh chun léargas a thabhairt ar an ‘cheilt mhór’ sin agus chun fhoirceannadh na staire a leigheas. Beir Bua.
March 3, 2014 at 9:48 pm
March 4, 2014 at 7:37 pm
March 3, 2014 at 3:31 pm
Paula fair plé duit! Ba bhrea liom labhairt leat níos mó faoi do scéal -an miste leat dul i dteagmháil liom: emer.nicaodhain@gmail.com
March 3, 2014 at 2:53 pm
Paula comghairdeachas leat as an talt iontach ionraic sin. Píosa den scoth. Tá i bhfad níos mó i i gcoitinne ag muintir na hÉireann le pobail éagsúla an domhain a d’fhullaing faoin chóilíonachais – dúchasaigh na hAstráile, na hAifrice etc – ná gur mian linn a aithint.
March 3, 2014 at 9:49 pm
Síle Looks Up says:
March 3, 2014 at 2:04 pm
Tá tocht i mo scórnach a léamh seo. x
March 3, 2014 at 3:41 pm
March 3, 2014 at 9:51 pm
Ah! Tá sé sin go hálainn ar fad a Shíle. MB x
Leave a Reply Cancel reply
Enter your comment here...
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
Email (required) (Address never made public)
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Notify me of new comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.