Scríobh Brian Boll, mac léinn bunchéime sa triú bliain in Ollscoil Notre Dame, ar an tréimhse a chaith sé ar an gCeathrú Rua i gConamara le linn samhradh na bliana 2008.
Brian Boll, an undergraduate student in the third year at the University of Notre Dame, writes on the time he spent in Carraroe, County Galway, Ireland in the summer of 2008.
An Cheathrú Rua
Craic ar an gCeathrú Rua
Tar éis dom mí nó dhó a chaitheamh ar staidéar na Gaeilge le linn fómhar na chéad bhliana anseo, chuala mé go raibh scoláireacht le fáil ag lucht foghlamtha na Gaeilge in Ollscoil Notre Dame, scoláireacht le haghaidh mí a chaitheamh ar chúrsa tumoideachais Ghaeilge ar an gCeathrú Rua, baile gaeltachta i gConamara, Contae na Gaillimhe, Éire. Thaitnigh an méid Gaeilge a bhí déanta agam faoin am sin go mór liom, agus nuair a luadh an scoláireacht ba mhór an tsuim a bhí agam inti.
Peadar Ó Muircheartaigh ab ainm do mo mhúinteoir, mac léinn iarchéime Éireannach as Maigh Eo a raibh cumas maith teagaisc ann agus a chuaigh i bhfeidhm orm maidir leis an teanga agus le cúrsaí eile an tsaoil chomh maith. Bhuail mé leis chun an scoláireacht a phlé, agus thug sé misneach dom tabhairt faoi. Thosaigh mé ar dhul chuig cruinnithe an chiorcail comhrá (a raibh an Muircheartach i gceannas orthu) uair sa tseachtain le feabhas a chur ar mo chuid Gaeilge labhartha, ócáid ar bhain mé neart suilt aisti. Rudaí éagsúla a bhíodh á bplé againn agus ba rud é an greann a chabhraigh liom an teanga a fhoghlaim dháiríre.
Le teacht téarma an earraigh (agus mé ag déanamh an dara rang Gaeilge) bhí orm aiste a scríobh a léireodh an fáth a raibh mé ag iarraidh an scoláireacht a fháil agus an chaoi a n-úsáidfinn amach anseo í le haghaidh mo chuid pleananna acadúla. As Béarla a scríobh mé é, mar ba ghá dom ag an am sin, ach scríobh mé ar an dúil a bhí agam sa scoláireacht ó thaobh na Gaeilge, ó thaobh a foghlamtha, agus ó thaobh teangacha go ginearálta di. D’éirigh liom. Chuir an scéala sin áthas orm—ní raibh mé in Éirinn riamh roimhe sin, agus ar chlos dom go bhfuaireas an scoláireacht bhí mé ag súil le tír na Gaeilge a shroicheadh faoi dheireadh.
Nach raibh an t-ádh ormsa? Bhí ; as go brách liom trasna na sáile. Ar theacht dom go hÉirinn sa samhradh, d’fhan mé i lár chathair Bhaile Átha Cliath ar feadh cúpla lae. Bhí mé i Londain roimhe sin, agus i bPáras, ach ba dhifriúil ar fad an blas a bhí le mothú ar an gcathair úd ina raibh mé anois. Thaitnigh beogacht na cathrach liom ; ach bhí mé ag súil le n-imeacht as agus aghaidh a thabhairt ar an iarthar.
Gaeilge a chonaic mé san aerfort, agus ar chomharthaí na sráideanna—ach níor chuala mé focal. Bhí a fhios agam gur mar sin a bheadh sé : chonaic mé Yu Ming Is Ainm Dom uair, ar ndóigh—ach mar sin féin b’aisteach liom gur fhiafraigh fear díom, fear a bhí ina sheasamh ina chaiteoir ina aonar faoi dhroichead sáthach salach traenach, an raibh Polainnis agam ; d’fhreagair mé nach raibh ; níor fhiafraigh aon duine díom an raibh Gaeilge agam.
Ghluais liom go dtí an Daingean i gContae Chiarraí ina dhiaidh sin. Leithinis bhreá í Corca Dhuibhne agus ba bhreá na radharcanna. Ba í an Ghaeilge teanga an tí inar fhan mé. Gaeilge á labhairt ag na páistí ag marcaíocht a gcuid rothar. Suas na sléibhte liom agus anuas ; tríd na goirt agus le taobh an chladaigh liom ; “Dia daoibh” leis na caoirigh is gabhair ; pionta Guinness sa teach tábhairne. Thaitnigh an áit go mór liom, ach cúpla lá ann is ar aghaidh go Gaillimh liom. Uair nó dhó ag fanacht leis an mbus ar fhaiche na hOllscoile an chéad lá eile, mé neamhchinnte is corraithe in éineacht.
D’fhág muid an chathair ar an mbus, gach aon duine ina shuí le hais duine nach raibh aithne ar bith aige air. Daoine arbh as an bPolainn, na Stáit, an Ungáir, is tíortha eile na hEorpa agus na hÁise fiú a bhí iontu. Ba iad an Ghaeilge is an Béarla ar ndóigh na lingua franca a bhí le fáil againn, bíodh is gur ar éigean agus go mífhonnmhar a labhrófaí an chéad teanga acu siúd ar dtús. Ar shroicheadh an bhaile dúinn—”Fáilte go dtí an Cheathrú Rua, Baile Saor ó Bhruscar” a dúirt an fógra beag dearg linn—chláraíomar do na ranganna agus scaipeadh chun na dtithe muid.
Teach mór nua buí a bhí ann agus isteach linn gach duine den dá dhuine dhéag d’eachtrannaigh againn. Is í Peig a chuir fáilte romhainn, nó “Mamó” mar a thug James ar a sheanmháthair (bhí sé dhá bhliain d’aois) ; ba í Máire bean an tí agus Steven a fear céile. Ba bhreá an teach é ar fad. Agus muid ag ithe san oíche, mé féin ag bun an bhoird, bhuail rud eicínt ar chúl mo chinn. Ba é James beag a chaith an liathróid phlaisteach chugam—cá bhfios dom cén fáth. Ach níorbh fhada gur imigh an naimhdeas sin agus buíochas le Dia níor maraíodh mé fad is a d’fhan mé faoin díon úd.
A chodladh linn. Laszlo an t-ainm a bhí ar an gcomrádaí seomra liom. Is ainm Ungárach é sin, ach bhí a chuid Béarla maith go leor ; ba luath a d’éirímis agus bhímis inár suí chun boird ‘chuile mhaidin ag fanacht leis an mbricfeasta—agus ba bhlasta an bricfeasta a bhíodh ann ! Is beag nach gcuimhním ar an mbia (an beatha mar adeir muintir na háite) thar aon ní eile. Ach daoine eile sa teach bhíodar deas suimiúil freisin agus tá beirt nó triúr acu mar chairde liom fós.
Cuireadh chuig ár gcuid ranganna muid lá arna mhárach. Sa meánrang a bhí mé féin i dtosach mar níor mheas mé go raibh mo chuidse chomh láidir is a choinneodh san ardrang mé. Ach ba ghearr gur thosaigh orm ag labhairt gan an méid eagla sin agus isteach liom san ardrang. Bhí Feargal i gceannas an ardranga agus is eisean duine de na múinteoirí is fearr a bhí agam ariamh : thaitnigh an rang go mór liom. Na scileanna a bhí agam ó thaobh na gramadaí ní rabhadar róchleachtaithe agam go dtí sin agus chabhraigh an rang go leor liom feabhas a chur ar an ngramadach siúd is ar mo chuid Gaeilge labhartha freisin. Labhraíodh Feargal ar an tSeanGhaeilge agus ar chúrsaí cultúrtha nó polaitiúla srl. nuair a d’fheil sé—bhí go leor le foghlaim romhainn, cinnte. Ba mhór an feabhas a bhí ar mo chuid Gaeilge faoi dheireadh an chúrsa agus ba mhó ná sin an chraic.
Óir is ar an graic is mó a chuimhním : ba mhinic go mbímis ag ól is ag ragairneach, d’fhéadfá a rá, i dTigh Sé, teach tábhairne deas compordach i lár an bhaile ina mbíonn ceol is craic formhór na n-oícheanta. Bhí daoine againn a théadh go Tigh Josie, club oíche a bhíonns ar oscailt an deireadh seachtaine sa teach óstáin sin thíos an bóthar. Ní dheachaigh mé féin go Tigh Josie ach uair amháin, ach bhí an-chraic le fáil ann, go deimhin. Ar ais linn as an bpub san oíche, ag siúl aníos an bóthar faoi chrithloinnir tréithlag na réaltaí. Féile an Dóilín agus Guinness saor in aisce. Cóisir ar an trá oíche, fiú.
Ach i measc na gcairde ba mhó a bhí an chraic ba thábhachtaí le fáil : meascán ár gcuid cultúr, ár gcuid meon, chuaigh sé i bhfeidhm go mór orm. Is é an rud is mó a d’fhan i mo chuimhne ná nuair a chuir mé ceist ar Bartek, Polannach a bhí sa teach liom. Bhí neart Béarla aige toisc go ndearna sé staidéar air sa scoil agus gur chaith sé bliain nó dhó in Éirinn ag obair ; bhí Gaeilge á déanamh aige mar ábhar staidéir san ollscoil (chomh maith leis an léann Ceilteach) ach ní raibh sí chomh láidir lena chuid Béarla ar chor ar bith. D’fhiafraigh mé de ar chreid sé go mbeadh sé chomh líofa sa nGaeilge agus a bhí sé sa mBéarla riamh. D’fhreagair sé gur shíl sé go mbeadh, dá ndéanfadh sé cleachtadh is dá labhródh sé í : b’in a rinne sé agus Béarla á fhoghlaim aige. Freagra mar sin, duine mar sin, a raibh teanga iasachta á labhairt go líofa aige cheana féin, a raibh muinín iomlán aige ó thaobh na teanga úd againne, chuir sé iontas orm. Níor shíl mé ariamh go mb’fhéidir liom teanga iasachta a labhairt go líofa : ach bhí duine romham arbh amhlaidh dó maidir le teanga amháin cheana féin, agus ba bheag an fhadhb ceann eile a chur léi, dar leis.
Cuimhním ar an nGaeltacht, cuimhním ar an nGalltacht, lucht na Gaeilge is lucht an Bhéarla, agus cuimhním gur mó an tuiscint daonna atá agam anois ná mar a bhí. Molaim daoibh uile cuairt a thabhairt ar an domhan fairsing. Déanaigí machnamh ar cheist na teanga—agus bígí ag caint !
Craic in Carraroe
After a month or two studing the Irish language the fall of my freshman year, I heard tell that there was a scholarship available to students of Irish at Notre Dame, viz. a scholarship for spending a month or so in an Irish language immersion program in Carraroe, a gaeltach (Irish-speaking) town in Connemara, County Galway, Ireland. I had rather enjoyed my Irish class so far, and when the scholarship was mentioned I was quite interested in obtaining it.
My teacher was Peadar Ó Muircheartaigh, a graduate student from County Mayo in Ireland who was a very able tutor and who influenced me in matters linguistic and otherwise. I met with him to discuss the possibility of the scholarship, and he encouraged me to go for it. I began to attend the “conversation circles” (which Peadar headed) that were held once a week in Flanner in order to practice and improve my spoken Irish. It was an occasion that I really enjoyed, and the humor and informality indeed helped me learn and stay interested.
With the coming of spring term (while I undertook my second Irish course) I had to write an essay for the scholarship saying why it was that I wanted it and how I thought it might fit into my academic future. I wrote it in English, as was necessary at the time, but I wrote about the desire I had to use the scholarship to learn Irish not only for its own sake but to further my interest in language generally as well. I did it. I was very happy with the news—I had never been to Ireland before, and on hearing that I had received the scholarship I looked forward to reach the homeland of the Irish language at last.
Wasn’t I lucky… Off with me across the Atlantic. Upon getting to Ireland that summer, I stayed in Dublin for a few days at first. I had been to London before, and to Paris, but the flavor of this new city was distinct from theirs. I liked the city’s liveliness ; I still looked forward, however, to my first sojourn in the West of the country.
I saw plenty of Irish at the airport, and on the street signs—but I didn’t hear a word of it. I had known that it would be like that : I had seen Yu Ming Is Ainm Dom before, of course—but it was nevertheless strange to me when a man, standing alone smoking under a shady, grimy train bridge, inquired as to whether I spoke Polish. I answererd that I didn’t. No one asked me if I spoke Irish.
I traveled south to Dingle in County Kerry after that. Corca Dhuibhne is a beautiful peninsula with unbelievable vistas. The landlady of my hostel spoke Irish. I even heard it chattered by some kids on their bikes. Up the mountains with me and back down ; through the fields and along the shore ; “Dia daoibh” (“hello” in Irish) to the sheep and goats ; a pint of Guinnes or two in the pub. I enjoyed the place immensely. I had only time for a few days there, though, and I was off to Galway. An hour or two the next day waiting for the bus on the University green, uncertain and excited at once.
We left Galway on the bus, everyone sitting next to someone they didn’t know at all. People from Poland, the U.S., Hungary, and various other European and Asian countries numbered among them. Irish and of course English were the lingua francas (at least nominally), though it was with great hesitation that the former of these would be heard spoken at first. On reaching town—“Fáilte go dtí an Cheathrú Rua, Baile Saor ó Bhruscar [Welcome to Carraroe, Town Free from Litter], the little red sign said to us—we registered for classes and were dispersed to our host family houses.
My house was new, big, and yellow, and in we went all twelve of us foreigners. Peig welcomed us, or “Mamó” as James would call his grandmother (he was two years old) ; Máire was the “bean an tí,” or host mom, and Steven was her husband. It was a nice house all in all. Eating dinner that night while I was sitting at the end of the table something hit me in back of the head. Little James had thrown a plastic ball at me—who knew why. But it wasn’t long before whatever hostility was there disappeared, and I survived unharmed through my stay under little James’s roof.
Off to bed with us then… My roommate’s name was Laszlo. He was Hungarian, but his English was fairly good. We would get up early every day and sit by ourselves at the table waiting for breakfast—and how delicious the breakfast ! It’s a wonder I don’t remember the food over anything else. The other students in the house were friendly enough and interesting, and I’m friends with a few of them still to this day.
We went off to our classes the second day. I started out in the intermediate class since I didn’t think my Irish would have been good enough for me to survive in the advanced class. It wasn’t long, however, before I started to speak with less inhibition and I realized that I did know my stuff, and I thus switched into the higher class. Feargal was the teacher of the ardrang, as it was in Irish, and I think he was one of the best teachers I’ve had in any subject : I loved the class. My grammar skills were rather unpractised up till then, and the course helped me a lot in that area as well as in my spoken Irish. Feargal would bring up Old Irish or his opinions on culture or politics or anything else when they were of interest—it was a learning experience, as it were. By the end of the course my Irish had improved vastly, but the fun overall was perhaps even more important.
The fun, indeed, is what’s most memorable : we’d go out drinking and carousing (well, not quite…) at Tigh Sé, or An Chistin, a nice, comfortable pub in the middle of town where there’s usually good music and fun to be had most nights. Some of us would go to Tigh Josie, the nightclub that’s open on the weekends in the hotel down the road. I only went to Tigh Josie once, actually, but it was very entertaining to be sure. There was Féile an Dóilín while we were there, a local festival where—well, where there was free Guinness. We even had a party on the beach one night.
It was in the company of friends, however, where the most important stuff was to be had : the mix of all our various cultures, of our world views, very much influenced me. The one thing I most remember is when I asked Bartek, a Polish kid in my house, an interesting question. His English was quite good on account of his study of it at school and his couple years’ stay working in Dublin ; he was doing Irish at university (as a Celtic studies major), though it wasn’t nearly as strong as his English. I asked him whether he thought he’d ever be as fluent in Irish as he was in English. He answered that he thought he would, provided he practice and use it : for that’s just what he’d done to achieve his competency in English. An answer like that, a person like that, on whose lips was to be found already a fluent foreign tongue, who had total confidence concerning his future in Irish, amazed me. I had never thought that I might be able to speak a foreign language fluently : but here was someone before me whose case was just that with one language already and to whom the prospect of adding another was hardly daunting.
Of my stay in Ireland I remember the gaeltacht, I remember the galltacht (the English-speaking part of the country), the Irish speakers and the English speakers, and I know that my understanding of humanity is better now than it had been. I advise you all to give the rest of the world a visit, to consider language’s influence on your life—and to speak !
