I recently bought a new notebook and took myself to a coffeehouse in the city centre, wanting a little time to myself. In it, I wrote the following:Continue reading
One’s sense of national identity is naturally influenced by one’s physical, family, and community environments. History, education, and current affairs each play an obvious role also, and while every personal experience and definition of identity is different, common ground can still emerge from the ether.Continue reading
Trigger Warning: Assault, Murder
In memory of Sarah Everard.
Breath by breath
she counts, in and out
and thinks of anything else
– tonight was a good night, overall
Step by step
the path she knew so well
was darker then, but the same danger
for threats persist without shadow.
Inch by inch
the goosebumps ran
over skin he touched, before:
“Sorry, I’ve got a man”
A lie which lay
between scorn and escape,
his eyes seared into hers, piercing:
“Right, whatever, see ya later”
Pick up the pace,
keys firm in hand
should a cat call need a southpaw
– only six more streets left.
Steps echoed to a rhythm
not of her own, for echoes of
sound and mind keep apace
– don’t look back, just go
but pace and path
catch up at last
and a laneway became a gateway
– exit, stage left.
Rose by rose,
the petals fall
with heads down as her coffin’s laid low
And yet, they’ll explain
instead of how he got away,
that it was her fault, somehow,
she was slain.
Cork, 11 March 2021
The following piece was originally published in “Léargas an Bhuitléirigh | Butler’s Review”, which I recently launched as a monthly newsletter on Revue. You can read the first edition and subscribe here.
For a long time, I’ve wanted to see – or at least contribute to – the goal of a re-Gaelicised Ireland; not as some fantastical throwback to crossroad céilí dancing or adoring statues of Gaelic legends, but to reimagine Ireland as if it hadn’t been so drastically colonised and Anglicised. I was inspired by Douglas Hyde’s paper, The Necessity of De-Anglicising the Irish Nation, from a young age, but I’d prefer to see (or develop) a renewed look at this concept from a 21st Century perspective.
In my mind, I see such an Ireland being more like the Netherlands or the Scandinavian countries in spirit; very in-tune with contemporary Western European culture, almost completely competent in the English language, but with a language, culture, custom, and heritage that is entirely and unmistakably their own. Ireland certainly has that in many ways today: the revival of Gaelic sports proved central to an overall cultural revival leading up to independence, but there are other ways in which Irish culture and society never fully had the confidence to diverse from British trends, or re-establish their own viewpoints. That is understandable – a good few centuries of influence and colonial planning can do that do a nation – but it is only now, I feel, that we are gaining the confidence to chart our own course.
Such a ‘New Gaelic’ view may sound potentially isolationist at first, but it is in fact pro-European and internationalist at its core. There is plenty of proof of trade, migration, and cross-collaboration with Iceland, the Faroes, Scandinavia, much of Western Europe, and even as far as ‘Talamh an Éisc’ (translated as ‘Land of Fish’ – now Newfoundland, Canada), all taking place before the Anglo-Norman Conquest. Our Celtic neighbours in Scotland, Wales, the Isle of Man, Cornwall, and Brittany share our common heritage the closest, and they also share most of our common challenges and issues today; housing, education, healthcare, sustainability, developing native industry and agriculture, and equality. The continuation of our languages, music, sport, and heritage is a goal often discussed when thinking of Celtic nations, but while that should absolutely be at the heart of our identity and common culture, there is so much more we can achieve together, with Ireland being a strong leader in the process.
Social democracy, to me, is central to that path; not only because it has proven successful to the Nordic countries, but I also believe it to be quite innate to the Irish people. We want things to be equally available, and for people to be able to prosper and live how they want. The Marriage Equality referendum proved that strongly to me, and I know that vote to Repeal the 8th Amendment meant just as much to many others since then. We’ve come together through this pandemic in a way that is heartwarming, and although there are many inequalities and injustices in our country, I cannot let go of that hope to find solutions, and the political will to have them implemented for the benefit of the people.
And, while I don’t wish to focus on negativity, I’ll state briefly that my distain for recent far-right demonstrations and groups in Ireland is firmly rooted in my belief in a ‘New Gaelic’ Ireland that is pluralist, secular, and tolerant. I firmly subscribe to the Gaelic tenet: Gael is ea Gael, is cuma dubh, bán, nó riabhach – a Gael is a Gael, no matter if black, white, or mixed – and that kind of inclusive, matter-of-fact statement also shows a distinct social democratic essence, in my eyes.
Still, there is much to be done before we can claim a new era for Ireland or the other Celtic nations. I can only hope, almost a hundred years since independence, that the foundations for such work are secure enough to begin.
Ba é an chéad dordveidhil a fuair Ciara ná an ceann céanna is a bhí ag a seanmháthair; í ina dordveidhleadóir le ceolfhoireann i bPáras, tráth. Tugadh L’Étoile d’Irlande – réalt na hÉireann – uirthi i measc lucht an cheoil sa Fhrainc agus i gcuid mhaith eile na hEorpa. Bhí clú uirthi mar dhordveidhleadóir den chéad scoth, ó Rann na Feirste go dtí an Róimh agus ó Chonamara go Cív. Nuair a d’éirigh sí as a bheith ina ceoltóir proifisiúnta, thug sí a ‘leanbh’ – dordveidhil a rinneadh i bPáras – do Chiara mar bhronntanas dá hochtú breithlá déag. Faoin am sin, bhí Ciara ag seinnt leis an gceolfhoireann náisiúnta agus bhí sí ag cleachtadh le haghaidh éisteachta do cheolfhoireann i Londain. Bhí sí cinnte dearfa go raibh sí chun céimeanna a seanmháthar a leanúint, agus dul níos faide ná mar a chuaigh sí féin.
Cúpla bliain níos déanaí, bhí Ciara de Faoite cúrtha fuithi i Londain, í ina cónaí lena buachaill agus ag éirí go han-rathúil i ndomhan an cheoil Chlasaicí – i measc na mBriotanach ach go háirithe. Ar an mhaidin fhuar gheimhriúil úd i Rann na Feirste, áfach, bhí sí le cúpla port a sheinnt do phobail an bhaile, ach ní bheadh sé ina cheolchoirm.
Os chomhair an phobail in eaglais an bhaile, thosaigh sí ag smaoineamh faoin lá a fuair sí an nuacht. B’fhíor-dheacair dá máthair an drochscéal a insint di, ach ba dheacra fós é a chloisteáil, go háirithe agus í chomh fada sin uaithi nach raibh sí in ann compórd ar bith – barróg, fiú – a thabhairt dá chéile. Ina ionad sin, ní raibh ina chompórd ach glórtha a chéile agus iad beirt ag gol.
Thosaigh sí ag smaoineamh faoin uair dheireanach a chonaic sí í, agus í beo. Bhí sí ag cleachtadh píosa brónaí ar dhordveidhil nua a fuair sí féin mar bhronntanas ó hAmbasáid na hÉireann i bParás nuair a d’éirigh sí as. Sarabande le Bach a bhí á sheinnt aici agus Ciara ag siúl isteach sa teach i Rann na Feirste. Bhog sí ó thaobh go taobh leis an ndordveidhil agus í ag seinnt, soir is siar ar nós go raibh sí ag caoineadh in ómós do dhuine. A fear chéile, b’fhéidir, a d’imigh uainn deich mbliana roimhe. Nó a mac – uncail Ciara – a fuair bás i dtimpiste gluaisteáin agus Ciara ina cailín an-óg. Bhí go leor le caoineadh faoi ag a seanmháthair, ach ní raibh sé le feiceáil ach amháin nuair a sheinn sí an dordveidhil.
Shuí sí síos i gcathaoir adhmad os comhair mhuintir an bhaile, agus chuir sí dordveidhil a seanmháthar os a comhair. Phioc sí an bogha suas as an mbosca ina lámh dheis, agus thosaigh sí ag seinnt Sarabande. Bhí céad duine – pobal an bhaile ar fad agus corrdhuine a raibh aithne acu uirthi ó dhomhan an cheoil – i láthair san eaglais chun slán a fhágáil don Étoile, ach ní fhaca Ciara éinne ach í féin, ina luí go suanmhar sa chónra dharach oscailte. Bhog Ciara go mall ó thaobh go taobh ina cathaoir leis an ndordveidhil, mar a bhog a seanmháthair tráth i bPáras, gléasta go hálainn do cheolchoirmeacha mhóra árdnósacha.
Mhothaigh Ciara gach nóta ar nós go raibh sí ag insint scéal a Mamó, bíodh áthasach nó brónach é. Chrith a méara ach lean an ceol ar aghaidh gan fhadhb gan stopadh, ar nós go raibh Mamó á treorú go dtí an deireann. Lean na deora fad is a lean an ceol ón uirlis mhór, ach níor stop sí riamh. Bhí Mamó ann, agus bhí sí sásta agus bródúil as a gariníon. Bhí a fhios aici faoin méid sin – bhí sí cinnte de. Mhothaigh sí lámh clé a Mamó ar a gualainn dheis, á moladh, cé go raibh a corp fós sínte amach sa chónra. Ba chuma le Ciara faoin gcónra, bhí sí ar bís – in ainneoin na ndeor – go raibh Mamó ag éisteacht.
Agus d’éist Ciara féin, mar a d’éist sí léi agus í á sheinnt. Bhí Mamó ann. Fós ina ceoltóir den chéad scoth.
25 Deireadh Fómhair 2010