Struileag: Shore to Shore: Cladach gu Cladach

By Struileag and Kevin MacNeil

The descendants of the Gaels are scattered far and wide across the world - a diaspora that is at once cherished and overlooked. This unique, heartfelt book brings vividly to life through raps, secular psalms, love poems and aphorisms the Gaelic experience as it was, as it is and as it might be. Shore to Shore/Cladach gu Cladach is a vital legacy of the multimedia project Struileag, at the heart of which lies poetry, and is a demonstration that inside every culture is to be found the whole human condition.This book contains contemporary poetry and text from all around the Gaelic diaspora commissioned over a three year period. Struileag has also delivered a 60 minute show Children of the Smoke which premiered during the Commonwealth Games 2014, a TV arts show, a CD of the show and an engaged, international, online community. Struileag is a La Banda project Artistic director - Jim Sutherland

• Language: English
• Publisher: Birlinn
• Release date: May 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9780857908384

Book preview

CAOIMHIN MACNÈILL

Ro-ràdh

Struileag, s. [noun] f. An imaginary boat used in a contest of wit or singing at a marriage or other gathering. When one has sung or otherwise contributed to the amusement of the party, he says ‘Cuiream struileag seachad orm gu –’, naming some other person, who makes the same remark when he has finished his share of entertaining.

Edward Dwelly, The Illustrated Gaelic–English Dictionary

Struileag

Rugadh sinn uile nar n-eilthireachd

Thogadh sinn ann an dùthaich chèin

Tìr ris an canar ‘Cianalas’, tìr ris an canar ‘Tìm’

Tha ’n cèilidh nas motha na ’n taigh-cèilidh

Chan eil an ceòl san ionnsramaid fhèin

Ann an cladh an-fhoiseil na mara, chan fhaigh am bàs bàs

Thar na sìorraidheachd tha ’m bàta geul-reultach

A’ seòladh o làmh gu làmh; cumaidh

an ceòl na seòladairean ’s na ceòladairean beò

Siuthad, a bhàta-chèilidh

’s tu seòladh o làmh

gu làmh air làn

na ceòlraidh

Tha fhios gu bheil fàire

eile air fàire

Siuthad, a Struileag,

’s tu seòladh le soirbheas

air cuan deàlrach

nan reultan marbh

Tha fhios gu bheil fàire

eile air fàire

Tha sliochd nan Gàidheal agus gu dearbh an fheadhainn aig nach eil ceangal ris a’ Ghàidhealtachd ach a tha air a’ Ghàidhlig ionnsachadh – na Gàidheil Ùra – a’ fuireach fad’ is farsaing air feadh an t-saoghail. Theirear ‘an diaspora Gàidhlig’ ris an t-sluagh sgapte a tha seo. Chaidh am pròiseact ‘Struileag’ a chur air bhog gus guth a thoirt dha na daoine seo, gus nàdar de Struileag a thoirt dhaibh. Aig an aon àm, saoilidh mi gu bheil sinn a’ toirt urraim dha ar sinnsirean – na h-eilthirich a dh’fhalbh thar nam bliadhnachan air bàtaichean nach robh idir cho mac-meanmnach ri struileag.

Bho thoiseach a’ ghnothaich, tha sinne aig sgioba Struileig air a bhith dhen bheachd gu bheil e fìor chudromach a bhith a’ cur ris an dualchas an àite a bhith an urra ris; chan eil eachdraidh air a fàgail san àm a dh’fhalbh – tha sinn ga dealbadh an-diugh. Tha sinn air obair ùr a choimiseanadh bho ghrunn math de sgrìobhadairean – bàird ainmeil, bàird thàlantach nach eil cho ainmeil (fhathast), agus luchd-acadaimigeach cliùiteach. Chuir an sgrìobhadair-ciùil Seumas Sutherland ceòl ri cuid dhe na dàin a tha seo agus nochd iad ann an cuirm mhòr a chaidh a chur air dòigh aig àm Geamaichean a’ Cho-Fhlaitheis ann an Glaschu. (Cluinnear na h-òrain seo air an CD Clann a’ Cheò/Children of the Smoke.) A bharrachd air sin, chaidh an consart fhilmeadh leis a’ BhBC agus chaidh a chraoladh aig àm na Bliadhn’ Ùire. Chuir sinn air dòigh farpaisean bàrdachd gus brosnachadh a thoirt dha sgoilearan òga is sgrìobhadairean ùra – tha na dàin shoirbeachail rin leughadh san leabhar seo. Mura h-eil sin gu leòr, faodaidh duine sam bith aig a bheil ùidh anns a’ chuspair cur ris a’ phròiseact tron làrach-lìn www.stories.struileag.com

Bha bàrdachd riamh aig fior chridhe cultar nan Gàidheal – mar sin, tha e freagarrach gu bheil nuadh-bhàrdachd mar bhun-stèidh a’ phròiseict. Am measg nan dàn ioma-chùiseach againn tha ‘rap’, ùrnaigh, haibun, salm saoghalta agus eile, agus na bàird a’ toirt sùil air cuspairean mora man fèin-aithneachadh, dachaigh, eilthireachd, cànan, creideamh, gaol, call, còmhstri agus sìth.

Thàinig aistean thugainn bho sgrìobhadairean iomraiteach ann an Alba, Moscow, Melbourne, Bonn agus Carolina a Tuath. Chanainn gu bheil na h-aistean coltach ris a’ bhàrdachd ann an dòigh: tha iad rèidh-labhrach, cumhachdach, smuaineachail – agus cuid dhiubh rud beag connspaideach.

Am broinn gach cultair gheibhear riochd slàn mhic an duine. ’S duilich nach eil barrachd dhaoine eòlach air cultar, eachdraidh is cànan nan Gàidheal. Tha saoghal nan Gàidheal a cheart cho farsaing, domhainn is luachmhor ris an t-saoghal fhèin, agus e fìor airidh air cùram is suimealachd.

Bha e na àrd-urram dhomh a bhith ann an suidheachadh far am b’ urrainn dhomh iarraidh air na sgrìobhadairean Gàidhlig as fheàrr leam rudeigin ùr a sgrìobhadh dhuinn. Tha beachdan – agus modhan-sgrìobhaidh – gu math eadar-dhealaichte aig na diofar sgrìobhadairean. Tha mi a’ smaoineachadh gur e deagh rud a tha seo. Tha a’ Ghàidhlig sean agus ùr, ionadail agus eadar-nàiseanta. Chan eil e furasta a bhith dha-rìribh eòlach air cuideigin, neo air cultar. Mar a sgrìobh David Shields (agus e a’ togail air rudeigin a thuirt David Foster Wallace ann an agallamh):

I don’t know what it’s like inside you and you don’t know what it’s like inside me. A great book allows me to leap over that wall: in a deep, significant conversation with another consciousness, I feel human and unalone.

Sin, nam bharail-sa, cnag na cùise: eòlas, tuigse, co-fhaireachdainn. Tha iad uile rim faighinn san leabhar seo.

Cuiream Struileag seachad orm gu Mairead Bennett . . .

KEVIN MACNEIL

Introduction

Struileag, s. [noun] f. An imaginary boat used in a contest of wit or singing at a marriage or other gathering. When one has sung or otherwise contributed to the amusement of the party, he says ‘Cuiream struileag seachad orm gu –’, naming some other person, who makes the same remark when he has finished his share of entertaining.

Edward Dwelly, The Illustrated Gaelic–English Dictionary

Struileag

We were born into exile

and raised in a foreign country,

a land called ‘Homesickness’, a land called ‘Time’

The ceilidh is bigger than the ceilidh-house

The music is not in the instrument itself

In the restless graveyard of the sea, death does not die

Across eternity the white-starred boat

sails steadily from hand to hand; the music

keeps the sailors and musicians alive

Go on, Struileag,

sail from hand to hand

on a full tide

of music

On the horizon there

is another horizon

Go on, ceilidh-boat,

sail under a fair wind

on a glittering ocean

of dead stars

On the horizon there

is another horizon

The descendants of the Gaels, and indeed those who have no direct connection with the Highlands but who have learned Gaelic – the New Gaels – reside far and wide around the world. This scattered people is often referred to as the Gaelic diaspora. The Struileag project was conceived in order to give voice to these people, to pass on to them this struileag, this little ceilidh boat. At the same time, I believe we are honouring our ancestors, those exiled over the years on boats that were anything but imaginary.

From the beginning, we at team Struileag have been of the opinion that it is vital to add to our heritage rather than simply to rely upon it: history is not a thing of the past but something we are shaping today. We have commissioned new work from a host of writers – renowned poets, talented poets who are not (yet) so well known, and pre-eminent academics. Composer Jim Sutherland set some of the poems to music and the resulting songs featured in a large concert that took place during the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow. (The songs appear on the CD Children of the Smoke.) The concert was filmed by the BBC and was broadcast on Hogmanay. We organised poetry competitions to encourage pupils and new writers; the successful poems are published in this book. As if that’s not enough, anyone with an interest in the subject can contribute to the project by visiting our website that connects people across the diaspora: www.stories.struileag.com

Poetry has always been at the heart of the culture of the Gaels and thus it is appropriate that new poetry forms the foundation of the project. Among the varied poems there’s rap, prayer, haibun, a secular psalm and many other forms, with the poets exploring the big subjects such as identity, home, exile, language, faith, love, loss, conflict and peace.

Essays were sent to us from esteemed writers in Scotland, Moscow, Melbourne, Bonn and North Carolina. I’d contend that the essays are like the poems in a way: they are eloquent, powerful, thoughtful and, in some cases, rather controversial.

Inside every culture is to be found the whole human condition. It is a shame that more people aren’t aware of the culture, history and language of the Gaels. The world of the Gaels is just as wide, deep and precious as the world itself and is wholly worthy of care and attention.

It was a great honour to be in a position where I could invite my favourite Gaelic writers to create something new. The authors have diverse perspectives and writing styles: in my opinion, a very good thing. Gaelic is ancient and fresh, local and international. It is not easy to know truly a person, or a culture. As David Shields wrote (building on something David Foster Wallace said in an interview):

I don’t know what it’s like inside you and you don’t know what it’s like inside me. A great book allows me to leap over that wall: in a deep, significant conversation with another consciousness, I feel human and unalone.

Here is, in my opinion, the essence of the thing: knowledge, understanding, empathy. They are all to be found in this book.

I pass the ceilidh boat on to Margaret Bennett . . .

MAIREAD BENNETT / MARGARET BENNETT

Guthan tro na Linntean / Voices through the Ages

’S e Peigi Iain Phàdraig a thoisich an còmhradh:

Tha cuimhn’ agam Peigi Ameireaga . . . Às dèidh a’ Chiad Chogaidh, nuair a bha mi glè òg, thàinig i dhachaigh agus thug i dhòmhsa paidirean. Sin an aon thuras a rinn i bhon latha a dh’fhalbh i. ’S e piuthar mo sheanmhar a bh’ innte – grand-aunt – agus chaidh i null thairis nuair a bha m’ athair gu math òg – dèireadh na naoidheamh linn deug. Tha mi cinnteach gun do dh’fhalbh tòrr às a’ Ghàidhealtachd san àm sin. Bha Peigi Ameireaga ann an New Jersey agus bhiodh parsail a’ tighinn thugainn gach bliadhn’– aodach dhomh fhèin ’s do mo pheathraichean.

Bhiodh do sheanair ’s na nàbaidhean an-còmhnaidh a’ bruidhinn sna taighean-cèilidh mu dheidhinn nan eilthireach. Bhiodh litir no parsail air tighinn dhachaigh, agus an uair sin bhiodh iad a’ faigheanach ciamar a fhuair iad air adhart. Cha robh sìon sgrìobhte mun deidhinn . . .

Mrs Traill (1836):

Never mind books . . . use your own reason . . . Never tell me of what is said in books, written very frequently by tarry-at-home travellers. Give me the facts. One honest, candid emigrant’s experience is worth all that has been written on the subject . . .

Ailig:

My grandfather was born on the way across, in 1851. Duine gun dùthaich, they used to call him – ‘a man without a country’.

Christie MacKenzie:

Thàinig iad à Scotland – rugadh m’ athair ann an Tolstadh a Thuath. Cha robh e ach ceithir latha a dh’aois . . . Thàinig e ann an 1852 agus thàinig mo mhàthair ann an 1856.

Ciorstaidh MacArthur:

Rugadh m’ athair ann an Eilean Leòdhais. Saoil gun robh e còig bliadhna deug dh’aois nuair a ràinig e Canada. Bha e na bhuachaille – sin mar a chuala mise – caoraich no crodh. Thugadh orra falbh dhan aindeoin.

Maryann Morrison:

We sailed in 1888 on a little steamer from Tarbert to Glasgow, and from Glasgow on a ship called the Siberia. There was my mother, father, sister and myself, and my grandfather, and my auntie with her three children. Her husband was dead. My grandfather came with us because he lost his wife when the children was young and he stayed with us. And lots of immigrants were coming over with us. And on the way across we slept on bunks.

Angus Morrison:

Bha feodhainn aca, dh’fhàs iad tinn, bha iad cho fad’ air an eathar. Thug iad trì no ceithir a sheachdainean a’ tighinn a-nall . . . is nuair a landadh iad ann an Cuibeac cha robh duine ann an Cuibeac a dh’aithnicheadh iad. Thàinig iad bho Bhaile Cuibeac gu Megantic air an trèan, ’s bha daoine an sin a dh’aithnicheadh iad agus thug iad iad gu Marsboro’s chaidh iad a dh’fhuireach còmhla ri bràthair mo sheanar, Aonghas Moireasdan . . .’S e log cabin anns an robh iad a’ fuireach.

Angus MacDonald:

Chuir Clann ’ic Nill uabhas dhaoine às eilean Chanaigh. Cha chreid mi nach d’ fhalbh trì fichead teaghlaichean às a seo ri linn m’ athair a bhith na dhuine òg. ’S e an rud bu mhiosa dheth, chan fhaigheadh iad fuireach as an rioghachd seo fhèin. Bha iad airson iad a dhol fairis co-dhiù. ’S ann a Chanada a chuireadh iad. Chuala mi gun deach iad air bòrd an Tobar Mhoire.

Allan MacArthur:

You can leave today and be home again tomorrow . . . but when my people came out from Moidart and Canna around 1830, the MacIsaacs and the MacArthurs, it took them seven weeks from the time . . . bhon deach iad air bàta ann an Tobar Mhoire, agus . . . landed on the Gut o’ Canso. Nuair a chunnaic mo sheanair ’s mo sheanmhair an t-àit, nam biodh long a’ dol a dh’Alba air ais cha tigeadh iad air tir. Ach bha ’m bàta dol do dh’Astrailia.

Judith O’Neill:

When my great-grandparents went to Australia there was a Gaelic school in Geelong and a Gaelic church too – they’re marked on the old map . . . The children of that generation would have gone to that school. My mother often spoke of this and in our family that came to Australia there were two Donalds, brothers – Dòmhnall Dubh is Dòmhnall Bàn.

Bob MacInnes, Sydney:

I’ve been in Australia since 1924 – never been back home. Oh, the snakes! I had to wear spats up to the knees because they’d bite you. I worked on a farm in Victoria so I could pay back my fare and one day I was having breakfast, and a little boy about two years old says, ‘Oh, Mam, there’s a big black thing outside the dairy-room door!’ She went out and a blooming snake about four or five feet went into the dairy. I said, ‘You put a kettle of water on to boil and