Ríocht na Gréine, or,
Chasing a Dream
(Oideas Gael)

by Séamas Ó Feinneadh

I firmly believe that I was fated to learn Irish! I also feel a strong obligation towards those of my ancestors who may have emigrated from Ireland to the United States in the last century, losing their native language along the way. These two strands of my story, fate and duty, have propelled me over the past 20-odd years to pursue a dream, which, until very recently, when I was finally able to visit Ireland and see for myself, I was not sure had any basis in reality. My bittersweet search for Irish in Ireland did not fully satisfy my craving to immerse myself in the language of my forefathers, but it did reinforce my desire to continue what I have often felt has been a self-induced one-man campaign to ensure that the language will continue to live on through me in my small corner of the world!

The story of what began as idle curiosity, turned into a strong interest, and finally developed into what some might term an outright obsession, began in 1976 with a little blue book called Ríocht na Gréine.

I discovered this slim volume of poetry in a second-hand bookstore in Washington, DC, and although I had never seen this language in print before, I knew instinctively that it must be Irish. I was curious, and was determined to discover the meaning of the title and as much about what this book contained as I possibly could. I also wanted to know something about its editor, Séamas Ó Céilleachair, whose signed photograph appeared on the frontispiece. This led to the purchase of Teach Yourself Irish, which many will recall was one of a series originally published with a bright yellow cover, purporting to enable the layman to learn a difficult subject on his own. Actually, however, the original version of this textbook, which has now been completely updated and revised, was so difficult that it challenged me even more to plunge ahead and learn this strange-looking language that I had never heard anyone speak. The next step was the Conversaphone record, a popular series of language-learning LPs. Strangely enough, even before listening to the record the first time, I knew what Irish would sound like and, indeed, the minute I heard the first sounds from the voice on the record, I felt again as if I was already familiar in some way with this language that I was not even sure was still alive in the country where it had originated!

This "voyage of discovery" began slowly at first, for I was basically learning Irish in a complete vacuum. I felt like a detective following leads. Not knowing how else to proceed, I wrote to the publisher of my little blue book, and received a catalogue in return. This led to the discovery of the Irish Government publishing branch, An Gúm, an employee of which answered my questions about ordering books in a charming letter as Gaeilge, and encouraged me to continue my studies. This personal interest on the part of someone I had never met before has been a recurring experience in my acquisition of Irish, and has encouraged me to forge ahead. Unfortunately, however, when I tried another enquiry many years later, the personal touch at An Gúm had been replaced by the personal computer, and I was just another invoice number!

The search for the meaning of Ríocht na Gréine has taken me, in my armchair, all over Ireland, and that first, strange little book has now been joined by over 300 others. (I wish I could have everything ever published in Irish!) With no Internet back then, I could not, with just the click of a mouse, find the answers to all my questions about Irish so easily. I subscribed to magazines such as Comhar and Feasta, and felt as though I would be letting the language down if I did not contribute to the "language movement" by receiving an Irish-language newspaper each week. When I discovered what a precarious state Irish was in, something in me must have decided that I would not be the one to let it die, and that if the last native speaker disappeared, and no one published a single word in Irish ever again, I, at least, would have a repository in my house of what had been the proud expression of a people's hopes and aspirations for many centuries! This is admittedly an extremely naive and romantic approach to language learning, but when fate and duty are the motivating factors, all other considerations fall by the wayside!

Why I did not travel to Ireland until just recently to observe the situation with my own eyes, and to hear with my own ears Irish being spoken by native speakers, may have been ascribable to the fact that I was afraid of what I would find (no one speaking Irish anywhere!); perhaps I felt safer protecting my store of books and tapes for posterity than having to deal with the reality of the Irish language in Ireland today. Who knows? But while I was indeed disappointed that even in the Gaeltacht areas more English seems to be present than Irish, I was also encouraged by the fact that many are doing so much to promote the language. I could thus return home confidently and continue my campaign in my "Gaeltacht of one" to ensure that I do my share to safeguard the legacy of my ancestors!

To remove all doubt that fate was behind my finding that little blue book of poetry, imagine the thrill I felt many years later in my job as a translator for the US Government when, on the occasion of President Reagan's visit to Ireland, a letter arrived for him in Irish that I was privileged to translate, and that letter – call it coincidence, but I call it fate – was from none other than Séamas Ó Céilleachair! I could not help but feel that the editor of Ríocht na Gréine must have known that his message would be conveyed to the President by someone who had been preparing for that moment ever since his eyes fell on that small book of verse fadó, fadó. Indeed, I have finally learned the meaning of those magical words in the title, taken from a beautiful poem in the book called "Valparaiso," but in the hope that they may awaken the curiosity of some other reader, I will leave them as I found them, i nGaeilge!

If you are looking for a low-to-medium impact Gaeltacht experience that combines tension-free language learning and fascinating cultural exposure, then the Oideas Gael language and culture course in Glencolumbkille, County Donegal, is definitely for you. My wife, Shizuka, and I decided to enroll in that particular course, rather than a straight language curriculum, because of our different language levels and the multi-faceted nature of the program, and it ended up being one of the most memorable trips we have ever taken.

The course is ideal both for those with no previous experience who are seeking an introduction to the land and its language and those who have studied Irish, either on their own or in a classroom situation, but who want to immerse themselves in a "live" environment where Irish is actually spoken as a native language. Shizuka rated herself "minus three" and was nervous about participating; I was completely self-taught, having learned what little I knew from books and tapes, and so my knowledge was all passive. As it turned out, neither one of us had anything to worry about, for the course was so inspiring that both of us became even more enthusiastic about pursuing our Irish studies after we got back to the States.

The school is in a remote location, not as easily accessible from Dublin or Shannon as, for example, the Connemara Gaeltacht, but that is exactly one of its drawing points. The little valley of Glencolumbkille in northwest Donegal is a picture-postcard charming locale that is the ideal spot for the Oideas Gael campus, located in the tiny village of Cashel on the Atlantic coast. The ride from Killybegs to the glen along the Slieve League peninsula is itself worth the price of the plane ticket to Ireland, with its sweeping panoramas of sea and sky, hemmed by gorgeous stretches of beaches ("strands") lying at the base of steep, dramatic cliffs.

We were greeted on our arrival by the director of the program, Liam Ó Cuinneagáin, a charismatic man of unflagging energy and exceptional organizational skills, who immediately put us at ease and drove us to our lodgings. Students can choose between sharing accommodations on the campus or staying in bed and breakfasts with local families. We wanted to be with people who spoke Irish, and so asked for a B&B, which included not only breakfast, but dinner as well.

The house where we stayed was run by a formidable presence named Máire Uí Chuinneagáin (no relation, apparently, for this name, Cunningham, is perhaps the most common name in the valley, after Ó Béirne). It was a good half-mile from the school, so we were able to take care of our exercise requirements by walking back and forth two or three times a day. Good, plain Irish fare was provided, and above all, a willingness to help us with our struggling Irish. Máire told me later, to my utter amazement, that she was not a native Irish speaker but had moved to Glencolumbkille as a teenager and had had a tough time at first with the language. You would never have known it, judging by the astounding ease and speed with which she could switch back and forth between English and Irish. Her husband Seán and their helper, a charming woman named Áine, however, were natives of the area and had spoken Irish since childhood with that northern blas, which takes getting used to but won me over after a short time. Our housemates were four very pleasant Irish women who lived in England, some of whom had taken the same course as many as seven times before!

Classes were held every morning and were divided into eight levels, from one (no experience with the language) to eight (near native or native ability). My teacher, Nóirín, was a young woman from Gweedore who was a native speaker of Irish. She spoke a mile a minute and I had a great deal of difficulty understanding anything she said, but she and the rest of the class were sympathetic to my plight, and convinced me, the only Poncán (Yank), to remain in the class, which I at first felt was much too advanced. It was such a thrill being among Irish speakers, though, that I really didn't care what class I was in.

Emphasis was on developing our speaking skills and reinforcing grammar. I learned a lot, but realized that all my self-study had not gotten me very far and that there is no substitute for a live classroom situation such as this. Shizuka reported that her class was relatively stress-free and that she was not, as she had feared, "the worst." It was not long before she was greeting me with Cad é mar atá tú? ("How are you?") and telling me to Tóg go bog é ("Take it easy") with the rest of them.

It is this ability of the Oideas Gael program to inspire enthusiasm in people with varying degrees of interest in the language that is one of its strongest points. We were encouraged to speak Irish as much as possible during the breaks and outside the class, although this was not always easy because of the great differences in the levels of the students, many of whom were from Ireland and had had the advantage of studying Irish in school. Many others, however, were from countries as far away as Germany and Japan, not to mention the States.

It was also somewhat of a challenge to find opportunities to use Irish in the village, despite its claim as a Gaeltacht area. The young people, especially, did not seem to feel it was "cool" to converse among themselves in Irish, and one was never sure in the shops whether our faltering efforts would be welcome or not. This is part of the neurosis that affects the language everywhere, I think, so one has to learn to live with it. The chances to speak Irish are there if you are not afraid to make a fool of yourself (something I have never been accused of!). This "fools rush in" attitude was responsible, I am sure, for my being selected for an interview on Raidio na Gaeltachta, the Irish-language radio station, another huge thrill.

Since our lunch was not included in the B&B arrangement, we usually ate right next door to the school at "An Chistin," an excellent eatery with a delicious menu of light fare served graciously with no waiting and, as elsewhere in Ireland, optional tipping!

In the afternoons we had our "workshops," a choice among many activities to suit every taste, from hill walking (our original choice, but when we learned it would be an hour longer than the others, and with no sign of the rain letting up, we opted for tin whistle classes!) to drama, with everything from singing (both "regular" Irish songs and in the traditional sean-nós style), to literature, and dancing, and others in between. This was a good way to rest from the rigors of the morning language training and to absorb some of the culture at the same time. We had loads of fun, and our tin whistle teacher, Liam Ó Néill, was also a skilled fiddler who could often be heard at the nightly "sessions" in the pubs.

As interesting and enjoyable as our days turned out to be, I feel that the entertainment provided nightly after we returned to the school from dinner was truly outstanding and in many cases unforgettable. Each night a different concert or program was presented, and each one seemed to surpass the other. It seemed unbelievable to me that people about whom I had read, whose music I had bought, or whose poetry I had read, were actually standing in front of me singing, talking, and reciting! Granted, the Gaelic arts world is a small one, but we were still mightily impressed to hear two-time Corn Ó Riada winner Lillis Ó Laoire singing two feet away from us at the sean-nós evening, and to be treated at the same time to the lovely singing of our MC, Gearoidín Bhreathnach (who also taught the sean-nós workshop) and performances by several of her seven children! Singer-entertainer Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin had us all laughing and singing along with him on another evening; the famous Donegal poet Cathal Ó Searcaigh transfixed us with readings from his own works; and a group of truly talented musicians from Belfast, Ceoltoirí Rosa, had us warbling in Irish during our first Gaelic hootenanny! Another evening we went to the town auditorium, Halla Mhuire, for a performance by the local acting troupe of an Irish comedy written by Ireland's first President, Douglas Hyde, called An Cleamhnas (the matchmaking). Imagine the shock of recognition when the curtain went up and there in the leading role of the mother was our bean a tí from the B&B! She had us in stitches and, afterwards, we went backstage to congratulate her, in the company of the current President of Ireland, Mary Mac Aleese, who was also spending the week with us improving her Irish.

As you can see, our days were full. If there has been little mention of the weather, it must be because we have been trying to forget how awful it was, even to the point where the locals were complaining! We did not expect the south of France, but it would have been nice to see the sun a little more often. We would like to believe that it was just bad luck for us. If you go, just think "Seattle" and you'll be fine. No amount of rain or chilly temperatures in mid-July can diminish the charm of that little village nestled in that green, sheep-filled valley.

As the bus for Dublin pulled out early Saturday morning and stopped at the top of the hill, we turned around and gazed one more time at what we had always imagined Ireland to look like. We both let out an involuntary sigh, and vowed to go back another day.