Imelda May agus an Ghaeilge – ní uisce tanaí atá timpeall uirthi sna Saoirsí

Más leis an gceantar díreach lastuaidh den Life a shamhlaítear Luke Kelly, is deacair labhairt ar Imelda May gan smaoineamh ar na Saoirsí, taobh theas den abhainn.

Deir Liam Mac Mathúna go bhfuil sé déanta amach ag Seán de Fréine gur mhair dhá phobal Gaeilge isteach sa naoú céad déag i mBaile Átha Cliath, ceann acu i mBóthar na gCloch nó Stoneybatter, ó thuaidh de na céanna, agus ceann eile ó dheas, sna Liberties:

‘In Dublin there were two Irish-speaking areas of long standing. One lay behind the north quays, bounded roughly on the west by Stoneybatter. A larger amount of Irish was to be found in the Liberties on the south side of the city, between Whitefriar Street and Thomas Street. Here, in Swift’s Lane, a Baptist school was opened in 1815, where English was taught through the medium of Irish because it was found that the young pupils ‘learn to read the language they have been accustomed to speak with greater facility than a foreign one’. Here, too, in Mitre Alley, in the shadow of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, one might see the Irish signboard of Michael O’Casey, a traditional physician, who plied the art of healing with the aid of numerous medical manuscripts written in Irish’ (de Fréine / Mac Mathúna, Dublin and Dubliners).   

Meabhraíonn an tOllamh Mac Mathúna dúinn go raibh Gaeilgeoirí go leor ag tabhairt a n-aghaidh ar an gcathair ó cheantair tuaithe le linn an naoú haois déag, agus iad ag glacadh áit na nGaeilgeoirí a bhí ann cheana féin ach a bhí ag iompú, diaidh ar ndiaidh, ar an mBéarla. Duine acu sin ab ea Máirín Mooney/Johnston. Thug sí féin agus a hál an Ghaeilge leo aniar as Gort Inse Guaire, Contae na Gaillimhe, go dtí Pimlico sna Liberties, tar éis an Ghorta. 

Bhí an teanga chomh láidir sin an t-am sin gur bhunaigh an Irish Church Missions to Roman Catholics dhá rang i nGaeilge ina scoil, darbh ainm an Coombe Ragged School. Is dealraitheach gur mhair an Ghaeilge, taobh leis an mBéarla, mar theanga chumarsáide i dteaghlach Mháirín féin anuas go dtí 1911. Ní hamháin sin, ach níor mheath sí ar fad nó gur cailleadh seanuncail léi sa bhliain 1943:

Granny’s brother Paddy proved more than a handful for the teachers of School Street School as he refused to speak English and was disruptive in class. He was born in 1866 and began school in 1871, which schooling lasted only a few months. He was the only member of this family who didn’t receive a formal education and as a result of being at home in the company of his mother and grandmother, he continued to speak Irish until his mother died in 1911. The link with the spoken Irish language was broken at this point. Until he died in 1943, he said his prayers, counted his money, sang songs and cursed in Irish’ (Mac Mathúna).

Gaeilge tríd an mBéarla a chuala Máirín ina dhiaidh sin – nathanna a bhfuil cuid acu fós beo inniu san ardchathair, más ar an tanaí féin atá siad: Maith go leor, He’s a right slíbhín; I don’t give a tráithnín; She has a smut/pus on; He’s very flaithiúlach; Did you ever see such a gam?; The inside of his thighs are covered in oighear; The cup is in smidiríns; That child hasn’t a bróg on his foot; That’s nothing but oul ráiméis; Everything is bunoscionn; I never heard such ologóning; Put on your cóta mór; There was a great rí rá altogether; A spailpín is all he is; Throw a few of them cipíns on the fire; I’ll put a bit of smacht on you me bucko; She’s no stuacán anway; Snortin’ like a banbh; He’s very glic; The oul dúidín is gone out again; She’s a grand girseach.

Maidir le hainm na cathrach inar chuir Máirín Mooney fúithi, déantar amach go raibh ‘Duibhlinn’ suite san áit a bhfuil gairdín an Chaisleáin anois, agus go raibh linn dhubh ann fadó, san áit a ritheadh an Poitéal nó an Poddle isteach sa Life. Maidir le ‘Áth Cliath’ go sonrach, deir Liam Mac Mathúna go gceaptar gurb é an bunús atá leis sin ná go gcaití cliatha ar ghrinneall na Life ag an áth seo, d’fhonn ba agus ainmhithe eile a thiomáint trasna aimsir lag trá. Murach na cliatha céanna, ghreamódh crúba na mbeithíoch sa láib faoin uisce. 

Beithígh de chineál eile, ar ndóigh, a chastar orainn in Táin Bó Cuailgne, áit a bhfuil cur síos an-taitneamhach ar shanasaíocht logainmneacha na tíre, Áth Cliath ina measc. 

Faoi mar a chásaigh Ronnie Drew tráth dá raibh, tógadh baile timpeall an átha, agus rinneadh cathair den bhaile, rud a fhágann sinn i dtaobh le ‘Baile Átha Cliath’ agus ‘Dublin’ inniu, áit ar léir tionchar an leagain ‘Duibhlinn’ ar an tarna hainm díobh sin.

Maidir leis an Life, ‘An Ruirtheach’ ab ea a hainm siúd sa seanam, focal a chiallaíonn ‘sruth tréan’, de réir dealraimh. ‘Maigh Life’ a thugtaí ar an machaire a dtéann an abhainn tríd, agus is uaidh sin a tháinig Abha(inn) na Life/Anna Livia/The Liffey chun cinn le himeacht haimsire. 

Píosa ó thuaidh den abhainn, i bhFionnbhrú (Whitehall), a bhí sochraid Luke Kelly, áit a bhfuil Páirc na Gaeltachta, Bóthar Uíbh Ráthach, Bóthar Uíbh Laoghaire, Bóthar Inis Meadhon, Bóthar Thuar Mhic Éide, agus Bóthar Fálcarrach. Meabhrú beag atá sna hainmneacha sin ar scéim (agus aisling) nár éirigh léi, faraor. Murar éirigh féin, ba mhór an spreagadh a thug an réabhlóid intleachtúil do phobal Bhaile Átha Cliath nuair a bunaíodh Conradh na Gaeilge aimsir na hAthbheochana, agus níl aon stad uirthi fós. 

Ní heol dom ar chuala Imelda May aon trácht ar chaint Alan Titley nuair a dúirt sé, ‘Most of what the Irish people ever said or spoke or uttered or dreamed or wondered or argued or made up was in the Irish language. Any disregard of this fact is cultural amnesia’.

Ach ba dhóigh leat go dtuigeann sí ina croí istigh gurb í an fhírinne atá ansin. 

Go n-éirí léi mar Ambasadóir Sheachtain na Gaeilge 2021 – ní uisce tanaí atá timpeall uirthi sna Saoirsí ó thaobh na nGael de, ach uisce domhain, gorm, Gaelach.