Child abuse

                   Child abuse

Whilst doing some research on the status of the Irish language in north and west Inis eoghain based on the 1901 census, my mind as usual began to wander. I was trying to imagine what it was like for a small boy or girl born into a family there at that time. Education was now compulsory and all children were expected to attend school. All schools were instructed to teach in English regardless of the home language. This was also true in Highland Scotland. Parents who often had little or no English themselves were in a dilemma.How best to make sure your child did well at school and have the hope of some government position or perhaps more realistically, a chance in America, largely English speaking. The decision clearly shown in the census is that only English would be spoken at home no matter how poor it was.The little child was in effect being cut off completely from the culture, the songs and poems and stories told around the fireside for centuries. Any Irish still used by children could be severely punished in school by the 'master'. Pearses' 'Murder Machine' was clearly at work in Inis Eoghain.

               When I think of the little child
               boy or girl--barefooted and in rags
               sent to school to 'larn', I rage 
               or cry.
               Each morning shouting out in foreign tongue
               your presence,answering to a false name 
               in an English only roll call.
               Your brother Seamus ,now James
               and Dónall ,Dan
               Your sister Éilís turned to Elizabeth
               In silent fear, not able to speak
               or understand the 'masters' words
               until, as time went by,
               encouraged with stick and cane
               you mumbled your 'yes,sir or 'no,sir'.

               No help at home with books or poems
               not understood by 'athair' or 'mathair'
               Little Irish boy becomes the little English boy
               of use to King and Empire.

               Irish tongue ,broken and beaten
               and the prayers of Granny and Granda
               only a low mumble of meaninglessness
                               The world of your parents, their stories and 
               Songs, alien and strange.
                And the chapels' Hail Mary in place of
                'Se do bheatha, a Mhuire.

               When I think of the little child
               that walked to school in Malin or Glengad
               then I see child abuse officially decreed
               and encouraged.
               Were not our Grannies and their parents too
               victims of the 'Murder Machine?'

                                                    Remembrance sunday, a hundred years down the road.

   Irishmen, we need you now more than ever. Rally to the cause. Yes, don't worry. we will get you Home Rule when this little matter is sorted out. You see, the cursed Hun has overrun little Catholic Belgium.Blighters! We hear they are burning churches and convents and killing priests and nuns.What barbarians! You wouldn't catch us British doing such deeds. Well after all you didn't have churches to burn as we took them off you and gave them to ministers of the true faith of Henry 8th. And it would be hard to burn a mass rock out in some remote and lonely spot in Dear old Erin.Hah ,ha ha. As for killing priests; well for a while we did have to control their numbers, Wolves were running wild and so were priests. £5 for the head of wolf or priest was a fair way to deal with a very serious situation.. They kept the damned natives er sorry , the Irish people from changing their faith to our much better and improved version.
     So help us to save little Catholic Belgium from the Hunnish invader. What right have they to invade their little neighbour Darned curs. If you spill your blood in our cause we will be kind to you and give you what you want. Our word is our bond/ Old Britannia never tell lies.And remember our kindness to you in your hour of need .When your 'praties' rotted didn't the Kings' Mama .our most gracious Victoria send over £5 to help feed the 9 millions starving peasants. She cared so much for all her subjects. Didn't she give £5 to Battersea Dogs Home the very same day.
     So ,brave Irishmen, we beg you to join with your Celtic cousins in Wales and Scotland and rush to the nearest recruiting barracks where you will be fully kitted out with fine new boots and overcoat. Our Brave English officers will train you in the art of fixing bayonets and charging into endless salvoes of machine gun fire. They will watch all your brave and valorous deeds on the field of battle through their binoculars. You might even win a Victoria cross if you manage to come home in one piece, or even if you come home in several pieces.
        Remember, and  never forget how long we have been friends. Isn't it now 700 years or more since we came over to pay you a visit for the first time. And we have always got on like a house on fire; or many houses on fire.Rest assured that if you do not return you will always be remembered..There will always be a little ceramic poppy to honour your supreme sacrifice for the King who loves you so much. To arms, brave fools er sorry, brave irish warriors, to arms.

Inis Eoghain in poetry and prose

                                                   Moville parish, Co  Donegal.

  There are great views to be had from the top of Cnoc Álainn overlooking the mouth of Lough Foyle if weather condition are suitable. Today many of our local placenames are being lost or worse, forgotten. Some people feel they have the right to change centuries old names at their own pleasing.I have seen the name 'Cookes Hill' used in print and on signage when the place being referred to is Crockaulin or in irish 'Cnoc Álainn' the beautiful hill. The same applies to a local beach which has an old Gaelic name, Cornashamma Bay and is today referred to as 'Sweet Nellies'. It would be nice if the local Authority( Donegal County Council) could see fit to ensure correct signage at these places retaining their Gaelic names for posterity, as they have more meaning from a heritage point of view.

                                                Ó Cnoc Álainn, lá geal sa Geimhreadh.

                 Standing on Cnoc Álainn and looking towards the Moyle
                 Before, the hills of Derry and the shores along the Foyle
                 And eastwards towards the sunrise,Isle Juras' hills so high
                 With Íle in the foreground, where great celtic heroes lie.
                 
                 Cnoc Leithid by Ballycastle, stands o'er the surging sea
                 With the other hills of Antrim,dear Sliabh Mis, proud to be
                 The waters of Bann river empty out upon the strand
                 And the wind swept sands of Magilligan, the mouth of Foyle command.

                 The Spéiríns stretch their highest peaks away into Tír Eoghain
                  Ben Evenagh and Ben Bradagh and Sliabh Gallion on her own
                 The last wild wolf in Ireland howled lonely in these glens
                 Whilst planter cleared the woodlands and the Gael lived 'mongst the bens

                 Southwards o'er Foyle waters stands the Isle of Colmcille
                 Grown to a city now stretching arms up every hill
                 Myroe and the Vale of Faughan, where O Cahan held his sway
                 Abbies,churches and castles now fast falling to decay.

                 And looking now more westwards, hills and glens of Inis Eoghain
                 Each with its' own sad history, and most of it unknown
                 When the Gaelic tongue was beaten down by famine, fire and sword
                 New masters gave the orders; be our prayer sand songs ignored.

                 Turning now more northwards, the great ocean rolls before
                 Gleann Gad, Culdaff and Malin and the Gleann a' Gaibhne shore
                 Inis Trá Thuathail out on the horizon, lighthouse shiny white
                 Beams out its' welcome beacon to guide sailors through the night.

                 Great God! so high in heaven,look down on the work of your hand
                 And teach us by the beauty,to respect this lovely land
                 That our childrens' children may enjoy the hills and glens of home
                 And nature stay unsullied, pure, in the land of Inis Eoghain.

                                                              Gerry Sóna     Eanair 2012