Ag solathar chuici

The last time that a lot of people were trying to learn Irish was the Gaelic Revival of about 1890 to 1920. It happened because they had noticed that a whole rich fascinating world existed in Ireland, a world the mainstream culture of money, respectability and Empire did not recognize. This other world spoke of the reality of Ireland, and reality of life together, in a gripping, stirring, mind-altering way, in ways that the mainstream did not. It offered insights, pleasures and meanings that the mainstream culture did not. The Revival was an attempt to learn a new world, and to help that world carry on into the 20^th century.

People learned Irish in order to explore that other world, and in order to become better and more intensely alive people. Each issue of the Gaelic Journal, each new book of folktales or of ancient texts, carried a cargo of treasures—jewels possessing the power to help these explorers in their journey of social, cultural and self-discovery. It was a quiet revolution, and it must have been an exciting time, for some, to be alive.

Yes, the revival failed and the faded pamphlets are today embarrassing or merely quaint. 

But learning Irish is pretty straightforward, right? You buy a course. Voila!

The problem is that most courses are still trying to combat the image of Irish as a poor peasant language, and so they determinedly deal mainly with certifiably up-to-date modern things. Many readily-available language courses are pretty much of a pattern, anyway, whether we’re talking Irish or Catalan. So we tend to get Irish reduced to common Euro-talk, and then reconstructed with a bit of cream, butter and potato. (Not all texts are like this, of course.) Plus there’s only so much that can be fit into a course book.

Odi ni Cheileachair from an Rinn, a singer.


Web-sites and a good bit of TG4 and print material today offer the same kind of limited Irish.

Take the word “aistriu”, for example. It means “translate”, right? Or maybe also “move house,” as in the proverb “Aistriu na hAoine….” So all we need to do is to memorize the word, then use it as we would use the word “translate” in English. We build sentences by substituting Irish words for English ones in the English sentences in our mind.

Aside from the fact that every language approaches things from a different angle, so that we can’t just translate from one language to another by word substitution, “aistriu” has a range of meanings that “translate” doesn’t: “To move from one place to another” (example: “Bionn coinini ag aistriu gach aon ait rompu, feachaint ca bhfaighidis glasra.”); “Take away” (example: Siol, agus na preachain a dh’aistriu.”); “To change” (example: Tha an saol aistrithe ar fad.” “Dhineas e a dh’aistriu.”); “To change” (example: Spailpini, nilid ann anois, is mor an t-aistriu ar an saol.” “Nach mo aistriu a chuireann an saol de?”)

(All these are from Diolaim Dheiseach, edited by Diarmaid O hAirt, Royal Irish Academy, 1988, which is a collection of words and idioms collected in County Waterford.)

So word for-word does not equal “Irish.”

A person can memorize the various senses, meanings and nuances of “aistriu” as they appear in the dictionary, and then try to remember and use them, but that’s a kind of heavy construction in the dark that shouldn’t be asked of language learners.

Lucky for you, though, I have an answer. Yes, for only $12.95 a month through PayPal, I will link you into “Gael-o-Can”, gathering real-Irish sentences and idioms from the stratosphere where they have gathered over the centuries, and beaming them into your own mind.

Well, maybe next month.

There is another way, though.

Much of the Irish published in the early 20^th century was written or translated by native speakers using their dialect.
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Sos beag anois.

Deirtear go mba choir do gach aon bhlog ais eigint a dheanamh dosna dhaoine a leigheann e, no feabhas beag a chur ar an saol acu. Seo chughat, ma ta....

Below, some useful words for when you're having second thoughts after eating ice cream while sitting on a rickety chair with untied shoelaces.

ATH-CHUINE (ie. Ath-Chuineamh)---Second thought

Example: Is minic gurb e an t-ath-chuine a mhillean an gno.  (It is often that it's the second thought that messes things up.) 'Millean' is ruin or destroy.

FUAIRTHNE (ie. FUAR-NIMH)---cold tingling pain

Example: Chuirfeadh ice cream fuairthne i mo fhiacla


CUIRICEACH---uneven, rickety

Example: Ta an bothar cuiriceach. Siuil cuiriceach (rickety unsteady walking). cathaoir chuiriceach (a chair with short leg or something like that.)


AR LIOBARNA---hanging down, ready to fall ('Ar' is the preposition 'on', etc.)

Example:  Ta do ialla ar liobarna leat. (Your shoelace is trailing.)

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And that brings us to.....Na Deisi.

The Decies (in English) is now generally identified with County Waterford, but that’s not really accurate. I’m using “Na Deisi” as shorthand for the Irish dialect that was spoken in County Waterford, south Tipperary, east Limerick, northeast County Cork, south Kilkenny (in many ways) and maybe even Clare, in some ways. 

If you look at a map, you’ll see that this is an arc of territory extending from the sea at County Waterford northwest to the sea in Clare—or to the Shannon Estuary, if we leave Clare out. South of it is the classic Munster dialect of Cork, Kerry and west Limerick. North were the poorly-known dialects of the Midlands (north Tipperary, north Kilkenny, Laois….). (Although a native speaker from near Kilkenny town was recorded in the mid-20th century.)

Unless we live in a place where we can interact with good Irish speakers in a variety of situations every day, it’s difficult to learn Irish well. It happens that, of all Irish dialects, Na Deisi is best and most widely represented in published material. 

Yes, there’s Mairtin O Cadhain for Cois Fhairrge, O Laoire and all the others for Muskerry in west Cork,  the O Grianna brothers for the Rosses in Donegal, and the 421 men and women from the Dingle peninsula who wrote books, but learning Irish from those books requires that we analyze the novels and stories, compile lists of usage, idioms and words—time-consuming work.

In Na Deisi, some people have done that work already.

There are published collections of words and idioms for some other dialects, but they focus only on unusual meanings of words; ones not found in the usual dictionaries.  Michael Sheehan in the early part of the 20th century set out, as part of the Revival, to record Deisi Irish in great detail in books of words and idioms. That means that we get everyday language with all its distinctions, levels of meaning and strangenesses, and not just the ‘different’ stuff. He worked mainly in An Rinn parish (Ringville) and Seana-Phobal (The Old Parish), places where Irish was still very strong at that point. (See Sean-Chaint na nDeise, Vol I and II, Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies. The format of volume II is much clearer, I have to say.)

Piaras de Hindeberg continued the process in the mid-20th century, working particularly in the mountains by Mount Melleray. His collections from everyday conversations over many years with Maire Ni Chaoimh are particularly fascinating, and can be supplemented with her brothers’ published work. His stuff is published as part of Diolaim Dheiseach.

But today, since I am not Sheehan or O hAirt and don't have the right to reproduce their work, what I'm going to do here is to enter bits of prose from earlier books for your reading and linguistic pleasure, starting with Buaidh na Treise by Micheal O Griobhtha (O Griofa) from Lios O gCathasaigh/Lissycasey, southwest of Ennis in County Clare. It was published in 1928. 

Irish is a very rich language, but the supple eloquence of O Griofa's language is astonishing. It might have been because of that fact that O Griofa was selected to translate the Irish Constitution into Irish. This passage is not particular in any way; it's just the page I happened to open, rushing here before work.

(Clare is interesting in itself as an area of overlap of three major Irish dialects; the FitzGerald lordship lands of north Kerry (including Dingle) and Limerick (southwest Clare Irish (Kilbaha, Kilkee etc,) sounded  a lot like Dingle Irish to me); the Deisi dialect; and Galway (Galway most strongly in north Clare, logically enough). 

(By the way as well, I will start entering fadas as soon as I can. The language does look strange, to say the least, without them.... Anybody have any ideas on how to do it on Windows 10?)

In this bit, the landlord Arbha (Harvey) is visiting his tenants. He's basically a good guy, and is gradually learning that the poor Irish are not actually animals as he assumed. I have modernized the spelling here, though trying not to conceal dialectical features.

Thainig cuigear no seisear de leanaibh (dative plural) cosnochtaithe amach ag deanamh iongantas do sna marcacaibh (riders; dative plural). Thainig a mathair amach agus do sheasuigh ar an dtairsigh. Do chuimil si a lamh deas dá h-aprun agus do shin chum an tiarna i.

"Failte agus fiche romhat, a dhuine uasail," ar sise, ""agus go mairir do ghradam, a mhaistreas."

Do chuir an failtiu athas mor ar Sheon (an tiarna talun) Do phreab se de mhuin an chapaill agus do chroith lamh go beasach agus go lach leis an mbaintrai.

"Go mairir, a bhean choir," ar seisean. "Ta cuairt a thabhairt agam ar mo teanontaibh (dative plural), d'fheachaint ce an bhail ata ortha; agus is tusa an chead duine ar a dtugas cuairt, a bhean choir."

"Muise, feach ar sin anois," ar sise. "Dar go deimhin, a Mhaighistir, ach is mise ta momarach asam fein inniu. An chead chuairt ar Mhaire Nic Mhathuna; muise do bheatha, a Mhaighistir! Agus da olcas e an sean-chabalach ti ta againn, tar isteach; tar isteach, a dhuine uasail."

Do chuaidh an bheirt isteach agus thug si cathaoireacha sugain doibh le sui orthu. D'fheach an tiarna talun ina thimcheall agus do chrom ar nithe do thabhairt fe (faoi) ndeara. Bhi an chistin go leathan leacach; ach maidir le troscan, ni raibh cora cistineach dea-ordaithe ann. Bhi dha leabain san eadan thiar; an tinntean san eadan thoir; bord ar an slios theas; agus driosur agus cofra ar an slios thuaidh. Bhi corcain agus gaigini agus sciathoga agus giuirleidi eagsula caithe i n-an-ord ar fuaid an urlair. Bhi greideal fe chiste ar bhrannra ar leic na tine; agus d'fheach an Maistir go beacht mar ni fheaca se a leitheid sei de bhacaireacht riamh roimhe sin. Do sciob Maire an ciste de'n ghreideal agus do leag ar an mbord e.

"Ta se reidh, a dhuine uasail," ar sise. "Dar ndoigh, is maith is eol dam na fuil ocras ort; ach ba mhor an togaint chinn do'n mbaintrai an tiara talun do bhlaiseadh dá cuid bidh fe dhion ti aici,"

Do chuir feile na mna aiteas agus iongantas ar Arbha. Ni raibh duil aige i mbia da fheabhas an trath sin, gan tracht ar chiste te taosach a raghadh (rachadh) i gceangal 'n-a fhiaclaibh (dative plural); ach ni bhfaigheadh se ina chroi an bhean déiteach.

"Blaisfead (Blaisfidh me) agus failte, a bhean choir," ar seisean, "ma's ail leat."


Agus mar aduirt an te aduirt--(sean-fhocal, agus cad eile?)

Is fearr bo na ba;
Is fearr duine na daoine