Many of those who survived the famine drifted away from the west for better lives on the East coast or in the burgeoning industrial towns of northern England. In 1835 there was an estimated 4 million Irish speakers but by 1891, the Irish census would suggest that this number had dwindled to just 680,000. The impact of all of this on the Irish language was ruinous. We next reached Skibbereen….and there I saw the dying, the living, and the dead, lying indiscriminately upon the same floor, without anything between them and the cold earth, save a few miserable rags upon them. Thousands of coffinless bodies were thrown into burial pits amidst desperate scenes which were first reported on by James Mahony’s graphic and shocking articles in the Illustrated London News. Last summer I visited the shocking burial pits dug aside the ruins of old Abbeystrewery Friary just outside Skibbereen in the west of County Cork. The famine’s impact was felt most keenly in those areas in the West which were predominantly Irish speaking. Over a million people starved to death or died from disease during the period (1845-50) and another million were forced to emigrate to America.
It is impossible to overestimate the impact of the Great Famine on the fortunes of the Irish language. The history of the Irish language since the famine has been littered with well-intentioned initiatives that have resulted in outright failure or disappointing outcomes. By contrast, something such as a soap opera can prove extraordinarily powerful when confronting social, cultural or, in this case, linguistic issues. Perhaps the point is that educational initiatives or moves to revive the wilting fortunes of national languages are often doomed to failure. Rather marvellously, Stephen Fry has made a rather faltering appearance on the show. Yet despite its rural setting in Connemara, the drama deals with tough social matters and has now found a niche audience in the States and Australia.
Now in Season 24, the soap opera is filmed in An Spidéal in Co. As an educational tool, it is second to none and at the heart of its output is the Irish language soap opera, Ros na Rún. Few now would argue for the station’s demise and it has successfully established itself as an integral part of Irish cultural identity. Personally, my Irish vocabulary is very limited, but I have watched fascinating documentaries on the fishing industry in County Kerry in the 1950s or the music scene in County Cork during the time of the great Seán Ó Riada. Even those who understand little or no Irish appear to be drawn to the station. Indeed, it has proved to be an incredibly effective vehicle for promoting the Irish language. Their pessimism was misplaced for not only has it survived but it has actually flourished. In the beginning, few commentators believed that the station would survive more than a few months and some even opined that it was a total waste of public money. This station was launched on 31st October 1996 by the state broadcaster Radio Television Eireann (RTE). Many of the matches are televised on TG4 – the Republic’s Irish language station. The room then resounds to the breathless and excited commentary of what is surely one of the fastest moving of team sports. On those occasions when the match is not televised, Michael produces an ancient battery-operated transistor radio which is perched precariously on the mantelpiece. The fire is usually roaring, even during the height of summer, and if I have not lost consciousness due to a combination of good food and unbearable heat, I tend to watch or ‘listen’ to the match. The children disappear to the front parlour or bedroom to cause mayhem, much to my mother-in-law’s chagrin, whilst we settle down to read the papers and watch the match. There is a ritual to these Sunday afternoons on the farm.
Eighteen seriously loud impediments to my father-in-law’s passion for sports His is an abiding passion and, like all true sports fans, he lives every twist and turn of the season. Whether it is a ‘Minors’ hurling match being played out in some rainy and deserted stadium down the country or an epic clash of the titans up in Croke Park, Michael demands an atmosphere of reverential silence. When it comes to Gaelic Games, my father-in-law is a gluttonous omnivore. All eighteen grandchildren know that, during the summer months at least, nothing must disturb the match.
0 kommentar(er)
