Traces: The Way and Path of My Life

By Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin

Traces gives a vivid account of Seosamh's life in this autobiography. He documents the hardships both he and his family endured during his formative years from the time he was growing up on a small farm in the parish of Lisdowney in County Kilkenny. Ireland was recovering from both the Economic War and World War II when there was strict rationing enforced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limerick Writers Centre
• Release date: Apr 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781999861445

Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin

Dr. Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin is the author of a number of books and he has also published papers in both Irish and in English on applied linguistics in the journal, Teagasc na Gaeilge 2010, Baile Átha Cliath and in the Journal of Celtic Language Learning (JCLL) at the University of Indiana in The United States of America in 2011. He has presented papers on linguistics in universities in Ireland. He has given interviews in Irish on the programme Saol Ó Dheas on Raidió na Gaeltachta a number of times about his experiences and writings. He has also appeared on the TG4 programme called Comhrá in May 2016. He taught in Ardscoil Rís in Limerick and later in Mary Immaculate College (MIC)/University of Limerick.He is married to Jean and they have three children, Brian, Sinéad and Fearghal.

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Traces

The Path of My Life

Traces

The Path of My Life

This is a revised and expanded English-language translation of my original autobiography in Irish, Bíonn Siúlach Scéalach, published by Coiscéim 2016.

Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin

Copyright © Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin 2018

First published in Ireland by

The Limerick Writers’ Centre

12 Barrington Street Limerick, Ireland

www.limerickwriterscentre.com

www.facebook.com/limerickwriterscentre

Limerick, Ireland

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reprinted or reproduced

Or utilised in electronic, mechanical or other means,

Now known or hereafter invented,

Including photographing and recording,

Or any information storage or retrieval systems,

Without permission in writing from the author, Dr. Seosamh Ó Cuinneagáin.

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Book Design: Lotte Bender

Cover Design: Lotte Bender

Managing Editor: Dominic Taylor

Some of the names in this memoir have been changed

ISBN 978-1-9998614-4-5

ACIP catalogue number for this publication is available from The British Library

DEDICATION

I dedicate my autobiography, Traces, to The Street Children in the slums of Kolkata in India to whom I shall donate the proceeds from the sale of the book towards their education and welfare.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The demand for an English-language expanded translation, entitled, Traces is based on my original autobiography in Irish, Bíonn Siúlach Scéalach, came not only from my relatives and friends in Limerick, Kilkenny, Dublin and Wicklow but also from the general public here in Ireland, the United States of America, Britain, India and Germany. It is for this reason that I have decided to write a revised and expanded translation of my autobiography in English so that as many non-Irish speakers as possible would have access to my lifelong story. There is also a demand from my colleagues and friends in Germany for the autobiography to be translated into German.

Firstly, I would like to record a special word of thanks to the following authors: An Canónach Mícheál Ó Siochrú, An tAthair Micheál de Liostún, Mr. Joseph Scallon and Mr. Jim Doherty for their literary expertise and advice in the writing of this book. I am also indebted to The Limerick Writers’ Centre and in particular to Mr. Dominic Taylor for his expert advice and support. A very special word of thanks goes to my learned colleague and friend, Mr. Jim O’ Farrell the Artist, for launching the book on my behalf. I would also like to express my sincere thanks to the Board of Management and Principal, Mr Tom Prendergast, of Ardscoil Rís, North Circular Road Limerick for affording me the opportunity to launch the book in the school.

I would like to thank our children: Brian, Sinéad and Fearghal who individually and collectively endured my preoccupation without complaint and in particular Brian who helped me with my computer skills whenever technical difficulties arose during the writing of this autobiography.

But my greatest debt of gratitude is due to my wife, Jean, who proofread the manuscript and scrutinised my idiomatic usage of English and who also unerringly identified weaknesses and omissions in expressions which was indispensable and central to all areas of the text. I would also like to thank her for her unflagging support, encouragement and patience, love and devotion I would never have begun, much less completed this opus magnum what would otherwise have been a much more onerous task. Jean is my goalkeeper, fullback, midfielder and above all else my attacking full-forward line. To her, I owe more than words can express, mo ghrá (love).

"Anois ba mhaith liom bualadh leis

Nuair nach féidir é.

Ó dheas a ghabh sé an mhaidin sin,

Aneas ní thiocfaidh sé."

From Rian na gCos (Footprints) by the great poet, the late Seán Ó Ríordáin (1917-1977).

To live is to leave traces

Quotation from the German philosopher,

the late Walter Benjamin (1892-1940).

CHAPTERS

I My Childhood Days

II Attending the Primary School

III Farming and Machine Operator

IV The Defence Forces

V The Salesian College and the Christian Brothers

VI University College, Cork and the Poet, Seán Ó Ríordáin

VII The Ó Mathúna Family in the West-Kerry Gaeltacht

VIII Working and Hurling in America

IX Jean, Myself and Family

X Teaching in the Secondary School

XI Learning Languages while on Pilgrimages with my Family

XII Studying German in University College, Cork and in Berlin

XIII Intensive Study of German in Ireland and in Germany

XIV A Doctorate in Irish and in German

XV Teaching in Mary Immaculate College/University of Limerick

XVI Voluntary work in Africa and in Kolkata, India

XVII Some Observations and Reflections

Bibliography

About the Limerick writers’ Centre

CHAPTER I

My Childhood Days

Little did I think, when I was growing up in Seskin in the parish of Lisdowney in north Kilkenny, that I would travel a long and arduous journey through life from east to west and west to east. Finally, I work as a volunteer, teaching English to the Street Children and helping the sick and dying in the slums of Lusaka in Africa including the slums of Kolkata in India. We really never know what God has in store for us in life.

The following is my life story: I was born in the year of 1942 during World War II when the Battle of Stalingrad in Russia was at its crucial stage which ultimately determined the outcome of the war. Seskin is a beautiful, picturesque townland with rolling hills that is approximately three kilometres from the village of Lisdowney itself. The village of Lisdowney is situated approximately six kilometres from the village of Ballyragget, seven kilometres from the village of Freshford and twenty-four kilometres from Kilkenny City itself. Lisdowney is a very small village which consists of a church, one public house, a small number of residential properties and a fine hurling pith. The local people do their shopping in the village of Ballyragget or in Kilkenny itself where there is a wider choice of goods.

There is a huge creamery, called Glanbia, situated in the parish of Lisdowney today that employs thousands of people worldwide. The Glanbia sponsorship of the Kilkenny hurling teams is one of the longest running Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA) partnerships as well as being one of the most successful to date. Agriculture, which consists of both tillage and dairy farming, is the main source of livelihood for the people in the parish of Lisdowney and its environs. This agricultural and GAA setting had, undoubtedly, a profound influence on my whole outlook on life even to this very day to the extent that I have never forgotten my roots.

Lisdowney, like all other parishes in County Kilkenny, has a long hurling tradition prior to the foundation of the GAA in 1884 in Hayes Hotel in Thurles, County Tipperary. One of the most renowned Kilkenny hurlers ever to play in Croke Park, when I was growing up there, was the late Ted Carroll. Ted, who was a true artist of the game, hurled with the local club and it was a pleasure to watch him play. Ted ticked all the boxes of a hurling superstar and he soon became a household name and legend in the footsteps of the great Lory Meagher from Tullaroan. Ted won many All-Ireland medals with Kilkenny both at minor and at senior level including an All-Ireland Colleges as captain of St. Kieran’s College, Kilkenny. We all admired Ted as he was our idol. He died at a very young age and as a mark of respect to his memory, the GAA erected a new stand in Kilkenny’s Nowlan Park, called the Ted Carroll Stand. He had a huge influence on us as hurlers and for that reason we all wanted to emulate his achievements both on and off the field and, finally, in Croke Park someday. Hurling, fishing for eels, hunting rabbits and farm work were our main pastimes. Not only was attending Mass on Sundays part of our Christian duties but it was also a social occasion for the people of the parish to chat among themselves after Mass about farming and hurling. It is generally acknowledged that hurling is part of the DNA of Kilkenny hurlers.

Perhaps, Henry Shefflin was one of the greatest hurlers of the modern game ever to play in Croke Park on All-Ireland final day. There was no avoiding hurling when we were growing up as it was part and parcel of our culture. We talked about hurling, morning noon and night, seven days of the week; indeed, we were obsessed with the game. It is said that there are two religions in Kilkenny, Christianity and hurling respectively. There was always a great rivalry between Kilkenny and the great Wexford team in the days of the mighty-Rackard Brothers from Killanne. I well remember John Moran, a friend of mine, telling me many years ago that he was in Croke Park with his cousin, Liam, from Wexford at a Leinster final between Kilkenny and Wexford. Being a great Kilkenny man from Freshford, John asked his cousin from Wexford, Well Liam, said John, Will the Wexford-pike men beat Kilkenny today? Ah John, said Liam, when we gave the Kilkenny men the pikes in 1798, some of them didn’t used them against the English redcoats. Wexford people never forgot that historical event.

My father, Joe, and my mother, Margaret, got married in St. Brigid’s Church in the parish of Lisdowney. They lived with my grandfather at first until they acquired a small little house with a patch of land of their own on the Ballagh, overlooking the Lisdowney countryside. This house consisted of only two small rooms and a kitchen with very small windows, so space and light was at a premium. The ordinary people lived in very small houses at that time whereas the landlords lived in their elegant mansions on their elaborate estates. The poor people had no electricity, running water, not to mention central heating. There were five of us in family: John, Noel, Margaret, Breeda and myself. I was the oldest and Breeda was the youngest. Both of my parents passed away many years ago, may God have mercy on their souls. This was certainly the end of an era that I shall never forget.

My parents were only fourteen years old when they themselves left school. Very few children went on to second-level education at that time, not to mention third-level education. They worked with the local farmers to make a living when they completed their primary education as that was the norm at the time. My people had very little property; all the land they possessed was enough grass for a cow and a few goats to provide milk for domestic use. My parents also had poultry and pigs. There was always some misfortune down on them to prevent them from making progress in life. The ordinary people had a tough life at that time as they could not afford any of the modern conveniences at the time.

I can well remember an old-paraffin oil lamp hanging on the side of the wall that gave a glimmer of light to illuminate the small kitchen. The cooking and baking was done on the open fire. Firewood was the main source of fuel to heat the house and there was a black-iron crane hanging over the fire to boil the kettle for the tea and for baking bread and cooking meals for the entire household.

We had cats and dogs around the fire during the long winter nights, particularly during the cold frosty weather. The Jack-Russell terriers were of a belligerent nature and prone to challenging each other for the dominant positions in front of the warm fire in the kitchen. The terriers were very faithful, obedient and good-natured watchdogs but they had ferocious tempers and were a force to be reckoned with at times. We had a great respect for the dogs as they were very useful and skilful at catching the rabbits. We used to go hunting after school in the evenings and on Sundays after Mass for one of our main sources of food. It was not every day that we could afford to purchase meat from the butcher. At that time, the rabbits were very plentiful. I felt pity at times for the poor rabbits when they were being killed by the terriers but as David Attenborough would say, death to one means life to another. These are the laws of nature fulfilling its role in the general scheme of things. Our very survival depended on the dogs and on the rabbits. The rabbits made a lovely meal with mashed potatoes, cabbage and a mug of buttermilk, particularly after a long day’s work in the meadow, making hay in the blazing-summer sun or picking potatoes in the autumn after school in the evenings. Most poor people in the country lived on rabbits but the rabbits were almost exterminated in the nineteen fifties by that dreadful disease called the myxomatosis. We had to be more resourceful when the rabbits were exterminated. We kept hens for the eggs and we also fattened and killed a couple of pigs every year. We used to look forward to killing the pigs for the delicious pork steaks. We never had to be told to eat our food because we were very glad to get it. As the saying goes, hunger is a great sauce. Since we had no refrigeration in those days, we used to immerse the meat in salt to preserve it for human consumption for the rest of the year.

When I recall those days, we had to work very hard to eke out a frugal existence and to live on the bare minimum. We worked on our patch of land from one end of the year to the other end with very little fruits for our labours. The ordinary poor people, like ourselves, accepted this way of life and trusted in God and hoped for the best. It was our indomitable faith and trust in God that carried us through these tough times. I well remember the end of World War II when the emergency rationing was in force. Each family was only allowed a certain amount of tea and paraffin oil per week. It was extremely difficult to acquire more than your ration unless you were prepared to purchase items away above the odds on the black market but we had no money to make such purchases. There was no class distinction among the poor people themselves during that time. The people helped each other during these difficult times to ensure that everybody had just about enough to eat during and after the war. In short, we had to be realistic and to live very much within our means. We had to cut our cloth according to our measurements. There were no hand-outs from the government of the day; therefore, one had to be resilient and resourceful in every sense of the word.

We had no bicycles and certainly no motor car except a donkey and cart to fetch firewood from the forest and other agricultural produces from the land. The only means of going to Mass or to shop was on foot. It was standard practice at that time to walk to your destinations. People were extremely fit and healthy due to the hard work on the land from morning until night, 365 days in the year. Our health was our wealth. There was no such thing as a five-day week job or, indeed, annual holidays. Such things did not exist. We never hear of such luxuries and there was no need to visit a gymnasium to lose weight nor did we hear of the word gymnasium as it was not part of our daily vocabulary. There was no such thing as obesity in those days whereas today it is a major health problem in our society due to the lack of exercise and proper diet.

We had a different mind-set and we relied very much on our own survival instincts and strategies to get through the difficult times. The people possessed a certain mental toughness due to the harsh, physical and working environment. They exhibited these traits again and again, particularly in times of great adversity. There was no industrial employment during the war years except working on the land growing crops and producing food. Our parents told us that the working and living conditions were far worse in the twenties and thirties after Ireland had secured her political independence from Britain in 1921. These economic problems continued right into the early nineteen sixties.

We saw no cars in those days as we lived approximately three kilometres from the main road to Kilkenny. There were even very few cars or trucks on the main roads in Ireland due to the shortage of fuel during and immediately after the war. This was also the pre-television era when the majority of the rural, peasant population of the country did not even have a radio or wireless as it was called at the time.

Hurling was a high profile pastime at the time and it is still to this day. It was, therefore, no surprise that any time when Kilkenny were hurling we used to walk approximately two kilometres across the fields to O’ Mahoney’s house to listen to the late Michael O’ Hehir’s commentaries on the inter-county hurling matches. I can still remember to this day some of the phrases that were part and parcel of Michael’s repertoire on match commentaries such as, socks down around his ankles, he bends, he lifts, he strikes. There is a schamozzle in the square and the game is still young. Five of our relations, the Byrne brothers, from the Dicksboro club in Kilkenny, won hurling All-Irelands with Kilkenny which made it all the more interesting to listen to Michael’s wonderful-match broadcasts. Indeed, he had many more such beautiful turn of phrases and the colloquial expressions such as the great Ringey Boy of Cork and The Rattler Byrne of the great Tipperary team of the forties and fifties.

Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh came on the scene in 1949, commentating in Irish on the Railway Cup finals on St. Patrick’s Day in Croke Park. Micheál spoke in beautiful West-Kerry Irish and I often said to myself that I wish I could speak fluent Irish like Micheál. His famous expression during the match commentaries were as follows: "Tá an sliotar ‘mithe thairis a’ trasnán" (the ball has gone over the bar). If there was an off-the-ball incident, Micheál used to say, "Ní fhaca cad a tharla, bhíos ag féachaint ar an sliotar" (I did not see what happened, I was following the sliotar). With regard to the Irish, I became reasonably fluent in the primary school as I had a good Kerry teacher. Those were the innocent days that will never come again.

At that time, there was a wet battery and a dry battery for the radio since there was no rural electrification. It was important to have the batteries charged for the hurling matches. There used to be so many people listening to the matches in O’ Mahoney’s house that some of the people had to sit or stand outside in the yard since there was insufficient space in the kitchen. That was our way of life and we very happy with it.

Since my parents were unable to eke out an existence from the small patch of land they had, my father had to work for a farmer, called Tom Carroll, in the vicinity to make a living. My father was an all-rounder and a good ploughman with horses. Ploughing was an art in itself, hence we have the annual Ploughing Championship today in Ireland in which many people compete with each other for the prestigious prize to progress to the World Ploughing Championship. My father, practically, ran the farm for Tom Carroll. He had years of experience and he was an expert in dealing with livestock to the extent that he had a veterinary knowledge of animal welfare. Farming was a six-day week job from dawn until dark. Sometimes they had to work on Sundays during the harvesting time, especially when there used to be dreadfully wet summers. At that time, the church used to grant special permission to the farmers to work on Sundays to save the harvest when the summers were dreadfully bad. The people were morally obliged to observe the Sabbath Day by abstaining from all unnecessary servile work. Farmers were, of course, always allowed to milk the cows and fodder the livestock on Sundays.

My father was very interest in hurling, politics, traditional music, the Irish language and song. He was not a fluent speaker of the Irish language as the language was not being taught when he was attending the primary school but he was very much in favour of the restoration of the language. He always told us, when we were growing up, that the Irish language would survive if the people and the political powers that be make it their business to revive it as a living language in the same way as the Israelis revived Hebrew as a living language since the foundation of the Jewish State in 1948. A nation without its language is a nation without a soul. He also stressed that the most important things in the life of a nation was to have the political and economic freedom to conduct its own affairs. If a country has not the political freedom to run and control its own political, economic and cultural affairs, then it is not a nation. He was a nationalist to the core and had a great respect for Michael Collins, Eamon de Valera, Dan Breen and many other leaders in the War of Independence.

He remembered the Black and Tans when he was going to school and the terrible fear and murder that they perpetrated throughout the land during the War of Independence. The Tans frequently searched his parent’s house and terrorised the people in the locality. The local people provided save houses for the Irish volunteers who were on the run and who risked life and limb and sacrificed everything to secure Irish freedom for successive generations. I asked him a question one day as to why the houses in the locality had such small windows. He responded by telling me the following story about the landlords of the locality. The poor people had to live in small houses with thatched roofs and small windows. The windows were so small that very little light entered the houses. If the tenants wished to increase the size of the windows, then the landlords would increase the rent. The poor tenants were in no position to pay higher rent since they could scarcely afford to pay the existing rent. Hence they had to be satisfied with their small windows and remain submissive to their oppressive masters. The landlords, who were aided and abetted by the British establishment, were evicting the tenants out on to the side of the road for non-payment of high rent. Some of these landlords were absentee landlords and they spent most of their time living the high life, banqueting in high society in Britain while the poor Irish tenants were dying of hunger and diseases. Many of the landlords’ corrupt stewards were worse.

My grandfather, who was affectionately known as Jack, told me a story about some of the poor people when he himself was growing up at the end of the nineteenth century. The local landlord evicted the people out on to the roadside one Christmas morning, men, women and children for non-payment of high rent. Many of these poor people died a horrible death during evictions from exposure at the height of the cold-weather conditions during the Great Famine. These unscrupulous landlords implemented unjust British laws for their own advantage to exact the maximum amount of rent at the expense of the poor tenants. It was