Island Crosstalk

 

 

From: Oxsan
Date: 18 Jun 2001
Time: 19:27:08

Island Cross Talk by Tomas O'Crohan is a peaceful, faintly amusing little book. It is exerpts of a diary kept by O'Crohan, a Blasket Island fisherman between 1912 and 1920. I enjoy reading it primarily for the conversations it logs. O'Crohan kept it in Irish . It was translated into English by Tim Enright. I have reproduced a page or two below to give you the flavor. I like it. In 1953 the Irish Government forcefully evacuated the Blasket Islanders to the Mainland at the Dingle Peninsula. I remember the event but I don't remember the rationale used by the Irish government to force the Islanders to the mainland---I would bet that it had to do with the difficulty of providing health services to the islands. There are three islands---now a national park.

Did any young man come to offer for you yet? As I walked along the roadway I met a couple of strapping young women. One wore high boots and the other low cut shoes. On these shoes splashes of mud landed now and again. One young woman had black curly hair and the other and the hair of the other was auburn. "Your legs are splattered," said I to the redhaired lass "Why is that?" "I'm wearing dancing shoes. I had no idea the paths were so muddy." "What did they cost you?" "A pound". "Have you any others?" "I have some high boots". "What did they cost?" "Two pounds." " That's three pounds you've spent on your feet," says I "I dare say if I had to take you through the shop at Dingle, I would need twenty pounds to dress you from crown to toe". " It would not be enough", said she, "For the day I was there I parted with fifteen pounds and many an article I could have bought I wasn't looking for because I had them already". "Did any young man come to offer for you yet?" "Holy Mary! They did not! I am too young still". "But tis well known that your father has a few pennies and a story like that travels fast enough. It is different when a man is without them." I was aware that she had had enough of me and thought that the black-haired girl was gettin' off too light because she burst out: "It is her farther that has the money! Signs on it! "Tis many the young man that comes to the house to offer for her". "Is that true?", I asked the young woman. "Oh, a couple of offers reached us, but we did not think they were very suitable and nothing came of it." "And the man who has not come forward yet, maybe, doesn't find you suitable, so ye would have to bide yeer time for another year.", said I. "Let him suit himself," she answered I turned to the redhead: "Compared to her mane, your head of hair shines like gold. But however much it may look like it, it seems you'd rather have some share of real gold in your hand." "Oh! Isn't it money that showers blessings on the people altogether", said she. "Well, never ye mind, there is still time for a last fling left in this Shrovetide. I suspect that from my judgment of ye that the pair of ye will be snapped up. We have shortened the day. So good day to ye!" "The same to you ", they replied.

 

News of a match

News of a match for Micael Dhomhnaill has come from the mainland. Great excitement in the village. Some are going to the wedding. I was visiting a house where there is a big family. There was no sorrier sight than the woman of the house trying to get them to do a stroke of work. Some of the men-folk were on the strand gatherin' seaweed. Dinner time was approaching. The mother shouted: "Brighde! Did you put the clothes out to dry yet?" "Upon my soul I didn't ,wisha!" "Mici! Did you fetch the ass yet?" "I didn't wisha, upon my soul." "Maire! Have you the fire going yet?" "I haven't, wisha, by my baptism." "Mary, Holy Mother, what scattered yeer senses for all of ye this day? I suppose what's driving ye out of yeer wits is this fuss over marriage in the village". She put her head out the door and saw the men returning from the strand. "Brighde, aroo, look! The men are coming back from the strand. What way are the potatoes? Are they nearly boiled?" "I've only just hung them over the fire", answered Brighde. "Tis your fault!", said the mother. "Don't be in the house when yeer father gets here, but sure I stand in greater danger than yourself".

 

Just thought you'd like to read a couple of them. The wonder about them is that they occurred.

LOVE

dad,granpa,ami