1. Leagan nua den amhrán seo ag TG LURGAN (Nollaig 2019)
Seo é
2.
Liricí
1.
I seipéal phríosún shean Kilmainham, atá muid cruinnithe araon,
Ag meabhrú ar an Éirí amach. Ar theip orainn, faraor?
Ar scoil fadó a deirtí linn, go mbeadh saoirse ag ár dtír,
Níl de mhian agam, san áit ghruama seo, ach tú bheith lem’ thaobh.
Curfá
Och, Grace, fáisc mé le d’ucht is ná lig domh scaradh choíche,
Le breacadh an lae, beidh mé á chur chun bháis.
Glac uaim anois, a ghrá mo chroí, an fáinne pósta órga.
Ní bheidh faill againn ár ngrá a roinnt ach, ‘Slán go deo’ a rá.
2.
Tuigim, a stór, gur deacair duit, tuiscint a bheith agat féin,
Ar mo dhílseacht do na laochra seo is do mo thír dhíl féin.
Mar sin nuair a tháinig an scairt uaidh ó lár an GPO
Bhí orm dul, is mé lag tinn, síos faoi lár an áir.
Curfá
Och, Grace, fáisc mé le d’ucht is ná lig domh scaradh choíche,
Le breacadh an lae, beidh mé a chur chun bháis.
Glac uaim anois, a ghrá mo chroí, an fáinne pósta órga.
Ní bheidh fáil againn ár ngrá a roinnt ach, ‘Slán go deo’ a rá.
3.
Le bánú an lae seo is mé atá faoi néalta bróin.
Ag siúl amach an mhaidin mhoch is mé ag smaoineadh ort, á ghrá.
Is scríobhfaidh mé ar an mballa seo ionas go mbeidh á fhios ag cách
Faoi mhéid mo ghrá is go bhfaca mé a fhuil i lár an róis.
Leagan Béarla de
As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Jail I think about the last few weeks: Oh will they say we’ve failed. From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty, yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me.
CHORUS Oh Grace, hold me in your arms, let this moment linger. They take me out at dawn and I will die. With all my love I place this wedding ring on your finger. There won’t be time to share our love for we must say goodbye.
Now I know it’s hard for you, my love, to ever understand. The love I bear for these brave men, my love for this dear land. But when Padraic called me to his side down in the G.P.O. I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go.
Chorus
There won’t be time to share our love for we must say goodbye.
Neart ag smaoineamh gur British muid anseo i SAM. Anuraidh labhair mé le seanchúpla i Sasana, Sasanaigh, daoine lách gealgháireach a cheap gur le Sasana Éire.
Cúpla rud le tuiscint. Níl gach duine mar Dave bocht thíos, ach neart acu ann. Féach air led’ thoil. Seo míniú a bhaineann leis an bpeil.
Mar sin, tuig, tuig, tuig, le bhur dtoil, cén fáth NACH bhfuil sé oiriúnach Celtic Center a chur i gClub le pictiúirí de bhanríon Shasana aguas Churchill ar an mballa ann. Sin an fáth a chaill sibh daoine. Mar níor éist sibh linn. Mar labhair sibh linn ar nós labhairt le páistí dána. Mar bhí drochmheas agaibh orainn.
Rud a d’fhoghlaim sibh ón leagan den stair a d’fhoghlaim sibh trí Bhéarla anseo. Mar TÁ ciníochas láidir anseo.
Agus Bridget a d’ionsaigh mé le maslaí is tú ag screadadh go mba chóir dom meas a thabhairt don bhanríon san Center sin, tá súil agam go bhfuair tú cúnamh mar is mór an t-ualach fuath mar sin. Ní ghlacaim le bulaíocht in aon áit.
ACH an rud a dúirt liom go raibh daoine iomlán tone-deaf don stair ansin ná an chaoi ina raibh orm argóint a dhéanamh le am a fháil le smaoineamh ar a tharla i mBerkeley nuair a fuair Éireannaigh óga bás. Le ómós a thabhairt dóibh.
Is féidir liom aineolas a mhaitiú ach daoine gan croíthe, sin rud eile.
Bhí mé ciúin faoi seo i bhfad rófada.
Anois, mé i spás nua le daoine den scoth a thuigeann. Muid ag fás go tapaidh. Beidh craobh againn i Los Feliz i Lúnasa lcd. Bígí cinnte NACH mbeidh Banríon Shasana ar an mballa againn ná Churchill mar tuigimid an stair.
Anois, Dave agus daoine cosúil leis, beidh meas againn ort agus oraibh nuair a aithníonn sibh an fhírinne. Ansin, le meas, beidh craic againn le chéile. Tuiscint. Croí. Sin atá de dhíth.
Nóta: Domsa ciallíonn British cultúir a bhaineann le Cymru, Corn na Breataine, agus An Bhriotáin. ACH san alt SEO mé ag tagairt ar leagan den stair a thugann meas don impireacht gan an dochar a dhéanann sé a aithint, ar dhream a bhainfeadh ár gcultúr is stair dínn.
Conas críochnú?
Neart atá iontach sna hoileáin seo in aice le chéile agus cé nach British muid, bainimid taitneamh as an gcuid is fearr dínn. B’fhearr críochnú mar sin.
Muid imníoch fúibh is Sasamach ag teacht. Tá cairde agaibh anseo. Tuigimid gur thug sibh grá do go leor dínn le fada an lá. Tuiscint. Grá. Sin é.
Súil le cúiteamh a mhilleas an cearrbhac. Hope of recouping losses will destroy the gambler.
Nathanna cainte:
i) Fuil dearg ort! Go n-éirí leat an cluiche a bhaint (i gcearrbhachas).
ii) Tá gob deas ar do chearc. Nuair a bhíonn cártaí maithe ‘na ghlaic ag duine.
iii) Mura leaga tú an mámh, leag madadh maith drámh. mámh: trump & drámh: non-trump
Téarmaí:
i) Duine ranna: dealer
ii) Lámh aondathach: flush
iii) Cárta cúil: An ace up your sleeve
Níl sé ceart, ar ndóigh: an G sin sa ‘Guit’ mar atá i ‘Gilead.’
Dia duit a fheicimid ach níor chuala mé Dia duit ó dhuine ar bith sa Ghaeltacht riamh. Dia dhuit a chloisim. Fiú ar scoil, níor chuala mé Dia duit. Sin a bhí ar an leathanach ach Dia dhuit a léigh an múinteoir amach agus Dia dhuit a dúramar. Níl fhios agam cén fáth nach scríobhaimid dhuit in áit duit, mar dhuit a deirimid.
Go minic is daoine ag foghlaim ar dtús, níl an fhuaim dh acu agus fuaim g a thagann uathu. Níl siad ceart. Ach muid ar fad ag foghlaim, nach ea?
Fiú sa Bhéarla, cheapfá gur Jilead in áit Gilead a bheadh ann mar fhuaim leis an litriú Gi sin i nGilead. Seans nach dtugaimid sin faoi deara fiú. Tagann an fhuaim amach mar a mhúintear dúinn í, is cuma céard atá ar an bpáipéar. Má deirtear go minic é, glacaimid leis fiú nuair nach bhfuil ciall ann dúinn.
Nuair a bhíomar ag foghlaim ar scoil, mhúin siad Dia duit dúinn mar bheannacht. Sin atá i mbeagnach gach téacs is daoine ag foghlaim Gaeilge. Freagra? Dia is Muire duit. Sin a deirtear, ar siad linn. Beannacht traidisiúnta, ar siad.
Is breá liom traidisiún is muid ag caint ar cheol nó rince. Mheas mé fhéin (ní féin – níl sé nádúrtha dom) nárbh shin ár dtraidisiún. Múinte dúinn ar scoil. Na mná rialta a mhúin mise, na Bráithre Críostaí a mhúin mo dhearthaireacha: nach raibh vested interest (vestido, invested, sheep’s clothing) acu sna frásaí seo?
Bhí agus tá, ar ndóigh!
Is mé ag múineadh daltaí ón Araib Shádach, labhair siad liom faoina dtraidisiúin. Thaitin a dúirt siad liom go dtí gur úsáid siad ‘traidisiún é’ le cosc a chur ar shaoirse na mban a mhíniú. San India is muid i dtuaisceart na tíre, níl fhreagair fear aon cheist uaim. D’fhreagair sé m’fhear céile nuair a chuir mé an cheist air. Ní traidisiún sin. Sin guth agus aitheantas a bhaint díom mar is bean mé. Mar an gcéanna leis an mburka. Glanann sé an bhean amach ón scéal. Mar a bhí mná Éirebrushed as stair na hÉireann.
Mar sin, mínigh arís dom an Dia dhuit seo. Cad a chiallaíonn sé? An gcloistear daoine ag rá God be with youAGUSGod and Mary be with you mar fhreagra air go minic sa Bhéarla? God be with you cloiste go minic againn ón altóir ach ní ag daoine ar an tsráid. God bless you coitianta ach ní God and Mary bless you mar fhreagra air. Ní labhraíonn muid mar sin. Labhraíonn na sagairt mar sin.
Cad a d’fhoghlaim muid anseo? Mhúin an Eaglais atá fós i gceannas ar 90%+ de scoileanna na tíre frása dúinn ar leo é. Múinte do gach páiste sa tír le fada fada an lá. Má deirtear go minic é, glacaimid leis fiú nuair nach bhfuil ciall ann dúinn. Ach níl sin ceart. Níl sé de cheart acu sin a dhéanamh. Sin iompúchán agus ní chóir go mbeadh spás dhó sin sna scoileanna.
Agus Gilead? Sin an tír sa scéal le Margaraet Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale. Beannachtaí acu a mhúineann siad le chuile dhuine ann: Blessed be the fruit. Freagra: May the Lord open. Múinte ann: Lord, sin té le cumhacht nach féidir a cheistiú. Fireann, ar ndóigh. Bean? Níl inti ach fruit. Tortha. Ní duine. Cead ag fir í a oscailt. Níl guth ná cearta aici. Focal deas, tortha. Milis. Ansin le ceadú a thabhairt d’fhir mná a éagnú: i bhfad ó mhilis an bhrí leis. Ainmneacha bainte de na mná i nGilead agus ainm an fhir ar leis í tugtha do gach bean. Anseo san bhfíseán, tugann siad faoi deara go bhfuil siad róchleachtaithe leis an saol nua agus cuimhníonn siad cé hiad i ndáiríre. Cumhacht ag focal agus ag ainm.
Níl beannacht ar bith eile ceadaithe seachas Blessed be the fruit. May the Lord open nuair a bhuaileann tú le bean i nGilead. Níl cead ag páistí tada a rá seachas Dia duit is Dia is Muire duit is iad ag foghlaim Gaeilge ar scoil in Éirinn. Sin a tharlaíonn. Admhaigh é.
Má deirtear go minic é, glacaimid leis fiú nuair nach bhfuil ciall ann dúinn.
Admhaigh nach bhfuil sé ceart. Aithin é. Athraigh é. In am sin a athrú.
Mar tá impireacht i gceannas. Faisiteachas fós linn.
Dóibh siúd ag ceistiú cén fáth nach bhfuil daoine ag screadadh go hard faoi atá ag tarlú do na páistí i SAM anois, cuirigí an cheist seo oraibh féin: cén fáth nach bhfuilimid in Éirinn ag screadadh amach go hard faoi Eaglais na Magdalenes fós bheith i gceannas ar scoileanna na tíre?
Cé a ligfeadh do dhream ciontach as coireanna in aghaidh na daonnachta bheith i gceannas ar rud ar bith? Ní i SAM. Ní i gceannas ar oideachas na hÉireann.
Mar sin, nuair nach dtuigeann tú, smaoinigh is tuig go bhfuil turas fada go dtí an pointe seo. D’éignigh siad ár n-inchinn le bolscaireacht ó bhíomar an-óg. Dúradh linn bheith múinte. Nuair a rinneamar rud as bealach, bhíomar ciontach. Nuair a rinne siad rud as bealach, eisceacht a bhí ann is bhí maithiúnas ag teastáil, ar siad linn. Respect for the office, ar siad i SAM. Religious freedom, ar siad in Éirinn.
Impireacht an fhadhb: iad a ghoid agus a scar leanaí óna dtuismitheoirí is a dhíol iad i SAM (sclábhaíocht fadó, príosúin anois) agus in Éirinn (Eaglais fós ag fáil airgid is ag múineadh rudaí do na páistí nach gcreideann na tuismitheoirí is iad lán le cumhacht sna scoileanna).
Aithin an fhadhb. Tuig cé chomh cleachtaithe is atáimid leis an bhfeall go ndéanaimid dearmad. Denial Central: my country is better than that! ach an bhfuil sí? An raibh sí riamh? Tuig nuair nach gceartaíar cúrsaí le freagracht go leanann an dochar ar aghaidh, ag fás, agus ag méadú. Aithin an namhaid.
Agus, ar ndóigh na Magdalenes, peidifíligh atá siad fós ag cosaint, Tuaim srl ssrl srl.
Coireanna. Freagracht de dhíth. Am i bpríosún agus cumhacht bainte ón dream ciontach atá de dhíth. I SAM agus in Éirinn.
Cad a dhéanfaimid?
Boycott. I SAM ar gach duine is grúpa a bhaineann tairbhe as an gcruálacht. Ar gach duine a thugann tacaíocht do Trump et al.
In Éirinn ar gach duine is grúpa a bhaineann tairbhe as greim na hEaglaise ar an tír. Diúltú reiligiún a mhúineadh sna scoileanna agus diúltú bheith ag obair i seomra ina bhfuil iompúchán ann le siombail na hEaglaise de dhíth. An INTO srl le dhíth sa troid seo. Cinntiú go mbeidh postanna nua le fáil do dhaoine a mhúin reiligiún cheana.
Scar oideachas ón Eaglais. An Pápa ag teacht, ná ceannnaigí ticéidí. Ná tógaigí páistí scoile ann. NÁ ligigí do na scoileanna bhur bpáistí a thabhairt ann ná caint faoi fiú. Bígí ansin, daoine fásta, le teachtaireacht láidir don cheannaire ar dhream ciontach (An Eaglais) as coireanna in aghaidh na daonnachta. Ar nós a tharla i The Handmaid’s Tale le rá leis
We believe the women
It’s sad what they’ve done to us, is neart fós inár measc nach bhfeiceann an fhadhb, nach dtuigeann nár chóir go mbeadh fáilte roimh cheannaire mar sin inár dtír, in aon tír.
Ná déanaigí dearmad
Ná déanaigí dearmad
NÁ FANAIGÍ CIÚIN FAOI.
DÉANAIMIS AN RUD CEART. Mar TÁ guth againn. Níl ag na leanaí ná ag na Magdalenes nach bhfuil linn níos mó.
Memory & Archives Aibreán 21, 2018 ag an Huntington i bPasadena, California.
Bhí orm caint faoi mo smaointe ar an scannán Song of Granite as Béarla. Seo’d iad na nótaí a bhreac mé síos roimh chaint faoi. Béarla ag teacht. GML.
Thoughts & notes about the film: time, place, identity, sean-nós, Irish, Seosamh etc.
Mícheál Ó Confhaola dochreidthe maith mar Joe Heaney!
Gaeltacht & Suffering
I asked what I should talk about and the themes of memory, place, and identity were mentioned. In a great hurry, I jotted down what I could before rushing off to a Celtic retreat where there were music, dance, and language workshops. Here are those rough thoughts.
MEMORIES
The film Song of Granite brought back memories. I felt ancient. Because I understood. Because it was familiar. I saw it in a cinema in Santa Monica. In the darkness, I heard the words of the most moving song and the tears fell. There were no subtitles. What astounded me was that when I looked around was that other people were crying too even though they didn’t understand the words.
TIME l often hear people describing Irish an ancient language and I cringe. It is ancient and we should be proud of that. But that is often said to dismiss it as if it has no relevance to the modern world. Song of Granite made me feel ancient. The film felt like it must have been about a time long before I was born. Still, for a time, I lived this life.
Back in 1973, in the middle of winter, I spent three months as an 11-year-old on a Gael-Linn scholarship. Going from Mullingar in the center of Ireland to Leitir Móir back in 1973 was like stepping into the history books. I landed in one of the most westerly regions of The Gaeltacht (the Irish-speaking region).
When Song of Granite showed the young boy walking across the rocks in a long shot, I knew how he felt. I had walked landscapes like this. I had seen women in clothes that should only have been in the history books but I saw them with my own eyes. It shouldn’t have been. I’m not old enough. I saw old women by the bridge to Leitir Mealláin dressed in black with big hoods around their heads. The memory stayed with me because the brakes had failed on the bus and we went past the church to where the women were before stopping. They seemed like they were from an older time.
Back then, I would bring a sod of turf for the fireplace when I went to school in Leitir Móir. Something that never happened in Mullingar. There were no fireplaces in classrooms and students were not required to bring a sod of turf in with them. The schoolhouse in Leitir Móir was full of life and mischief back then. The local children pestered me with questions because they wanted to know about my world because I was from a different world. When I went home, I was part of two worlds.
I am part of this world of Song of Granite. Part of me then and part of me now. There is a lot of parting going on. In the cinema, part of me felt connected on a deep level and part of me resented being made to feel so old. It messed up my sense of time and place. Joe Heaney had a lot of parting going on in his life too. It is the way of the west: to emigrate. It is the way of Ireland now. His roots were deep but he kept on moving: a walking, singing contradiction.
2. PLACE Song of Granite starts in the Gaeltacht, an Irish-Speaking region. Even in this example I give you of what it is, there is treachery. It suggests that no one else in Ireland speaks Ireland except in the most remote places. We were told that is what it is and we repeat that definition, that limitation of who we can be.
The Gaeltacht still needs to be understood and protected even as we realize it should never have been used to separate people by language. It is a form of Apartheid, often by very well-meaning people. Others are just more comfortable that Irish speakers are kept away in the west and don’t offend their ears in civilized parts of the country.
Some scenes in Song of Granite reminded me of a dark short film about boys drowning: An t-Ádh directed by Colm Bairéad https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgBPdWI8suA It is 21 minutes long if you wait for the song during the credits. And you should. It’s a lament. Bertie O Domhnaill sings the song at the end. Amhrán Maoinis. We have much to lament. Songs where the people in the song know they are going to die pack a punch. Even more so, if they tell their wishes in a matter of fact manner. An t-Ádh is a reworking of a classic tale by Pádraic O Conaire. Children playing on bare broken concrete in an abandoned school reminded me of clips I had seen of reservations for indigenous peoples here in the US. The boys in the short film have the most beautiful, musical Irish. It’s their language and it is alive. Very little else around them is.
They are in the designated area called the Gaeltacht. It exists to protect them and their language. This is how the Gaeltacht is explained. Part of it is real and well-meaning. You have to wonder, though; why does the place where the children play look so abandoned? Why do they play on deserted land, on broken concrete? People will claim it is all for good and there is some truth to that but it reminded me of the message of the movie Song of the Sea where Granny keeps telling the children that they must deal with suffering because it is for their own good and she reminds them, “I know what’s best for you!” The government has often failed to do the right thing for the language and the people of the Gaeltacht.
We should not forget the desire to drive the Irish “to hell or to Connaught.’ Our enemies wanted to kill our people and our language by sending people there. We should not be guilty of doing the same thing while saying we have good intentions in doing so. Our ancestors were driven to the harshest land to separate them from the richer people. To divide and conquer. When I arrived there as an 11-year-old, I saw children dying to escape from their restricted zone. They wanted a better life. We can have that. The definition of a Gaeltacht is changing. We are creating our own Irish-speaking spaces by overcoming shame. It is happening.
ARCHIVE: The Gaeltacht region is remote. Beautiful but remote. Some say there is not one Gaeltacht; there are many. I say the whole country is a Gaeltacht that has a muffle of shame. The separation to protect the language is not working. We must protect the people who have been cast aside or deprived. Ensure they have employment with the language. We must record the words and cadences of Gaeltacht speakers. Record audiobooks to ensure the music of the language is not lost. The locals get jobs and we get audiobooks so as to pass it on to future generations. Universities must do this. Archive it. Make it public. Sell it to those who can afford it. Give it away to the rest. It is urgent to do this.
3. IDENTITY and SHAME
It can be difficult to understand why people would not respect their own beautiful language but in that game of deception that is imperialism, those to be conquered are defined as in need of civilization to justify barbaric actions. To accept the false narrative is to become part of the process of killing off a culture and a language. It is not right to call this post-colonial inheritance because the colonial mentality has been planted in our heads. It is still there. It is a colony in our heads. It is difficult to shake free of the sense of shame that was passed down from generation to generation.
We try to make the whole country a Gaeltacht again. Online, it’s easy enough. Sometimes not. In 2016 I signed up for a course with Trinity College online to learn about the history of the 1916 rebellion. I posted some comments in Irish. This wasn’t allowed, I was informed, as some people couldn’t understand them. I suggested I translate them to English and post both versions thinking people would appreciate this. It wasn’t allowed. It turns out the course was run from England and the person who had to monitor comments probably was worried that I might be a terrorist saying awful things in another language. There is irony in the fact that I did a course on the 1916 fight for freedom hosted by an Irish university where English only was allowed.
In the north of the country, it can be much worse. When I started driving, I had stickers on my car that said: Scrios bóithre Chonamara an carr seo (Connemara roads wrecked this car) and Fág an Bealach (Clear the way). Because of that, I would never dare to drive across the border. The stickers would mark me as a probable terrorist to soldiers at the border and in the north. That’s how they saw us. How some still see us.
Lately, Queen’s University Belfast was in the news for not allowing signs in Irish on their campus. When these things happen we learn it is not just that we are not allowed to use our language in many places, but that people see it as threatening, offensive, and unworthy. That shames us.
As we try to use our language in everyday life, we are banned or prevented from using it again and again. We feel ashamed to speak in case we might start trouble when they have to tell us we are not allowed to speak. All this was not only allowed but is still VERY much alive. Our politicians do not speak Irish in government. They should.
We cannot be separated anymore. Irish words come flooding in my head to try to explain was I feel about the Gaeltacht: Uaigneas, Lom, Tréigthe, Caite Amach, Tost. Loneliness, Bare, Abandoned, Thrown out, Silence. There’s a lot of silence in Song of Granite. Silence between the notes, between the words, between the elements of the story. Gaps in the history of who we are. We know something is wrong with that. Irish speakers need to be accepted and part of Ireland. Our signs should not have Irish bent over in italics. We are not less and we should not be cowed. We need the same opportunities and Internet access as anywhere else. We need respect for our language from the politicians down. Speaking it.
I recently went home to my Father’s funeral. At the removal of remains (not a very poetic description), a nun who had taught me asked me if I was still using music in my life. Did I have a job in the area of music? I told her, in sight of my father’s open coffin, that I was involved with Irish now. Her eyes opened with shock and she said, with genuine horror: You haven’t gone all Gaelic on us, have you? These are the people who educated us. These are the attitudes they hold. Not all. But enough to do major damage. Most students are led to believe Irish is something you have to study but it’s really worthless. They teach disrespect and resentment. Not all, but enough to do major damage. We must change this. It is a mindset. It is shame.
Seosamh Ó hÉanaí
15 Oct 1919 Carna, Connemara – 1 May 1984 Seattle Washington. He went from Ireland to England, Scotland and the US (including New York & Seattle).
He recorded hundreds of songs. His repertoire: over 500 songs. He starting singing at 5 and singing in public at 20.
1949: Worked on building sites in London & recorded for Topic & Gael-Linn. He was married for 6 years. His wife died of TB.
1959: RTÉ & BBC recorded him.
1965: He went to Newport folk Festival, moved to US, settled in New York. He taught at Wesleyan University in Middleton, Connecticut.
1982 – 1984 Artist-in-Residence at the Universiy of Washington in Seattle.
1984: The Joe Heaney Collection of the University of Washington Ethnomusicology Archives
There is an annual festival in Carna: Féile Chomórtha Joe Éinniú
2011: Sean Williams & Lillis O Laoire Bright Star of the West: Joe Heaney, Irish Song-Man.
2017 Song of Granite, Pat Collins
Críochnaigh mé le caint faoi Chomhaltas agus Conradh na Gaeilge i gCathair na nAingeal. Bhí suim ag bean faoi leith sa cheangail le ceol na ndúchasach i SAM. Mór an trua nach raibh níos mó ama agam leo ach mór an onóir bheith ann.
Ghoid an Eaglais páistí agus dhíol siad iad. In Éirinn. Chuidigh an rialtas leo. Sin Dialathas. Ní dheachaigh éinne go príosún faoi.
D’iarr an t-uachtarán ar na Magdalenes maithiúnas a bheith acu agus gan bheith searbh. De ghnáth bíonn ardmheas agam ar Micheal D. ACH seo botún OLLMHÓR. Ar scríobh tú fhéin seo, a Uachtaráin? Ar scríobh duine éigin eile duit é?
Agus na gardaí i ndhá líne ag fanacht le fáilte a chur roimh na Magdalenes? Cé a smaoinigh ar sin? Mar ní raibh duine acu sinn i bpríosún as a rinne na gardaí dóibh. ACH bhí na mná i bpríosún i bhfad is go deo sa chaoi nach bhfuil éalú riamh ón gcéasadh sin.
Maithiúnas? MAITHIÚNAS? Agus muid fós an troid in aghaidh na hEaglaise lenár gcearta daonna a bhaint amach? Ní dóigh liom é. Agus iad fós ag spoutáil fuath? Is iad fós lán le drochmheas ar mhná is ar dhaoine aerach.
FREAGRACHT atá de dhíth. Is cibé a deireann siad faoi mhaithiúnas is trócaire is grá is Dia, tuig go bhfuilimid ag caint faoin dream a scrios an saol do na mílte, mílte in Éirinn le airgead a fháil dóibh féin. Mar atá Trump ag déanamh anois ACH níos measa.
Is FÓS níl éinne i bpríosún faoi.
MAITHIÚNAS?
Sin a mhúin siad dúinn ar scoil. Éigniú na hinchinne ón gcéad lá ar scoil. Meas don Eaglais is na sagairt is easpaig síos an scórnach, beathú iallaithe. Creidim in aon Dia amháin agus an Eaglais uilechumhacht ag rith trínár bhféithe. Gach duine ciontach ach iad. Sin cleas duit!
ACH
TÁ SIAD IOMLÁN CIONTACH agus TÁ SIAD FÓS I gCEANNAS AR OIDEACHAS NA TÍRE.
Ar nós Trump, bréaga ar fad a thagann uathu: is trua linn a tharla. Meas do na páistí.
MAR DHEA
Bhí fuath agus déistin acu ar leanaí & mhná i gcónaí is níl sin athraithe AR CHOR AR BITH. Níl sé athraithe ó am McQuaid. Níos fearr anois, ceapann sibh?
Féach ar a deireann siad thíos go n-íocfaidh siad as an damáiste uafásach a rinne siad: am i bpríosú – am ar bith, fanacht amach ó scoileanna – diabhal seans, airgead – b’fhéidir ach ní mórán. Is breá leo a gCaravaggios ar an mballa, tuigeann sibh.
Íomhá thíos ó Andrew Brennan
Níl maithiúnathas ar bith tuillte acu. Níl croíthe acu. Céasadh le airgead a fháil acu.
Tuaim, Magdalenes, Peidifíligh, Mná díolta, Mná mar sclábhaithe, Páistí goidthe, Páistí díolta. Faisiteachas. Sin atá againn FÓS fhad is atá cumhacht acu, fhad is nach gcuirtear stop leo le freagracht.
Tóg na scoileanna. Linne iad. Caith an Eaglais amach uathu agus bíodh daoine freagrach as a rinne siad.
Seo an Bon Secours (dream an Tuam Babies) le brat na Vatacáine acu ar dhá thaobh in aice le Ollscoil Chorcaigh! Craiceáilte! IOMLÁN craiceáilte! COIR! Ná glac leis níos mó.
Caill an dallamullóg. Bain gach atá acu uathu. Bíodh an tír saor ón damáiste a dhéanann siad. Ar son na tíre. Ar son cothram na féinne. Ar son gach bean is páiste a d’fhulaing, cuir an ruaig orthu.
Muna bhfuil fuath agus déistin ort ar a rinne siad, tú ciontach as ligint dá bhfuath is déistin is faisisteachas leanúint ar aghaidh. Go hifreann le maithiúnas.
