An Island Christmas - Nollaig Oileánach: Translated from the Irish by Mícheál Ó hAodha

By Micheál Ó Conghaile

In 'An Island Christmas - Nollaig Oileánach', celebrated Irish author Micheál Ó Conghaile takes readers on a heartfelt journey through his childhood memories of Christmas on the now-abandoned island of Connemara's Inis Treabhair.


'An Island Christmas - Nollaig Oileánach' transcends the holiday season, weaving together tales of the simple joys of Christmas on the island with the broader tapestry of childhood memories, friendships, and the cherished personalities of the island community. Ó Conghaile reminisces about the unique traditions and customs of his island upbringing in the 1960s and 70s in this captivating memoir. Delving into the island's social history he paints a vivid picture of family life in an intimate portrait of island culture and a pre-electric era that will captivate readers of all ages.


Though the island is no longer inhabited, Ó Conghaile's recollections serve as a poignant reminder of the enduring importance of family, community, and the magic of childhood. Whether you are a fan of Ó Conghaile's previous works or new to his writing, 'An Island Christmas - Nollaig Oileánach', offers a heartfelt and enchanting glimpse into a bygone era, making it a delightful read for any time of the year.


An inspiring insight into the life of a passionate artist and powerhouse behind the resurgence of Irish language writing and publishing, witness Ó Conghaile's journey from an eager young boy tapping away on a typewriter to the founder of renowned publishing house Cló Iar-Chonnacht. Translated from the Irish by Mícheál Ó hAodha.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercier Press
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781781178478

Book preview

An Island Christmas

Nollaig Oileánach

Micheál Ó Conghaile

Translated from Irish by

Mícheál Ó hAodha

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

1 This, Our Island

2 Preparing for Christmas

3 Christmas Preparations

4 Christmas Eve

5 Christmas Day

6 Between Two Christmases

7 The Typewriter

8 The Death of Sonaí Chóilín

Appendix

Christmas Poems

Coinnle ar Lasadh

Candles Lit

Cuireadh do Mhuire

An Invitation

Also Available from Mercier Press

Colourful Irish Phrases by Micheál Ó Conghaile

Plates

Copyright

In memory of

Máirtín Ó Direáin, 1910–1988

1

This, Our Island

I’m going to describe an island Christmas to you and I’ll be as accurate and concise as possible in my depiction. And even if I’m a bit slow in the telling at times, have patience with me please. It’s only that I’m trying to bring memories to mind again, slowly and naturally, recalling them in their own natural shape and form from my life fifty years ago. And you might pause briefly with me for a short while every now and then too …

Inis Treabhair (Inishtravin) is the name of the island I’m from originally. But where will I begin with my story? With the name of the place itself perhaps, and the fact that the island was often called by another name too: Inis Trá Mhóir, as once used in the school roll book – because of the big strands that surround the island, the extensive shorelines on every side. Many’s the time we walked the length of them in our black and green wellingtons. Or in our shoes sometimes. If we were caught out by the tide, we’d try and stand up on the higher flagstones and the rocks so that our feet weren’t drowned wet and sank into the mire. The mire is the mud that you find on many of the shores here and it’s grey and very soft. But we’ll leave the grey mud and the boggy ground aside for a moment. We won’t bother with it too much in this account even if it was never too far away from us back then, whenever we were out on the strand picking periwinkles or gathering limpets and seaweed on the many shorelines around Inis Trá Mhóir or Inis Treabhair.

As for the island itself, it’s a very small island, about a mile long, that’s all. It takes about a quarter of an hour of quick walking to go from the eastern end of the island to the west, from An Caladh ó Dheas (South Harbour) or An Caladh Thuaidh (North Harbour) back to An Caladh Mór (Big Harbour) that’s at the furthest western tip of the island completely. The island is shaped in a figure of eight as laid on its side, a fact that means it forms two halves almost right at its centre. This is very obvious when it’s at full tide as all that’s left in the middle of it is an area of about fifty metres or so. There’s another harbour there known as Caladh na Sliogán (Shell Harbour) and a quay called An Chéibh Nua (The New Quay), although the latter saw very little use during my time on the island; no one lived on the western half of the island back then. The island itself is located in the area known as Ceantar na nOileán, west of Eanach Mheáin (Annaghvaan) and it was out to Eanach Mheáin Quay mainly that the Inis Treabhair islanders travelled in their timber currachs when I was young to go shopping or undertake any other business on the mainland. South of Inis Treabhair you have Cuan Bhrandaí (Brandy Harbour), an Doirín Glas, Cnoc Leitir Móir (Lettermore Hill) and Cnoc Leitir Calaidh (Lettercallow Hill). North of the island, you have Ros Muc (Rosmuc) and Ros Cíde (Roskeeda) and back west of them again is Coill Sáile (Kylesalia). Situated directly west of the Inis Treabhair stands Cill Chiaráin (Kilkieran), looking out across the bay. I mentioned an interesting and unusual place name just now Cuan Bhrandaí or Brandy Harbour in English, a place that got its name from the brandy that was smuggled ashore there from Spain and France a few hundred years ago, according to tradition.

Now you know where Inis Treabhair is in case you ever want to strike out for there and visit it someday in the future. What would bring you there in the first place? I’m not sure myself to be honest. You might visit out of curiosity maybe? People are always curious. Or you might visit the island out of a sense of adventure or if you wished to make a trip to somewhere that is a bit different. I know one thing that won’t attract visitors there and that’s the social life, because no one at all lives on the island anymore!

The last person to live there was Pádraig Ó Loideáin, or Patsy Lydon as we knew him. He left the island in 2010 and no one has lived there on a continuous basis ever since, even if some of the island’s descendants and their families go in and out to Inis Treabhair regularly because they still have cattle and lands there. Máire and Frank Ó Faogáin from Ráth Chairn, whose people came from the island originally, have done up the old schoolhouse and spend time there every now and then; other than the Ó Faogáin’s, the island is uninhabited for most of the year however. Consequently, if you visit the island someday, you may find yourself alone there except for the company of the noisy, shrieking gulls and crows and all the different insects and animals that make their home there.

And were there many people living on the island back when you were a child, you ask? Just a few people to be honest. Very few. Inis Treabhair’s era was already coming to an end even when I was a child. People were already leaving for the mainland or emigrating abroad even then, their houses left empty and abandoned. Decades earlier, just before the Great Famine, about 100 people lived on the island, nearly twenty families or so in total. After the Famine, in the 1870s, the population increased to more than 150 people or twenty-two families altogether. My father, Coilmín Tom Veail was born in 1917 and he remembered around fifteen houses or so that were still inhabited when he was young. By the time I was growing up in the 1960s however, there were just five or six houses that were occupied; less than forty people altogether, between young and old; it was a tiny population.

The Réamainn family and Nóra Uí Mhullaoidh lived down by the Caladh ó Dheas (South Pier). We always referred to them as ‘na Réamainn’ in Irish and there were eleven children in the family, all of them in and around the same age as ourselves. Two members of the family died recently, Pádraic, the eldest in the family and Gearóid, who was the youngest God rest them both. Gearóid was the youngest person left who was born and reared on the island. We lived a quarter of a mile back the road from them.

There were eight of us in it, and, in addition to my parents, an uncle of ours, Pádraic Tom Veail, lived in our house too. ‘Na Veaileanna’ is what we were called on the island with reference to my great-grandfather. But strangely enough, and for some reason that I don’t understand, we were known as ‘na Coilmíní’ over on the mainland, where we were named after my father. But we were all the one crowd really, and everyone on the island knew this, even if a system like this could sometimes confuse a stranger or an outsider to the area.

Across the fields from us, and we could see their house from the road, was the Catháin’s house. There were ten in that family but most of them had already emigrated to England when I was a boy. I only knew the three youngest children who were still at home then, as well as their mother Ellen. Their father, Darachín Chatháin, died a long time before I was born. I did get to know many of the others in the family, the ones who’d left Ireland, in the summer of 1971 when their eldest son Cóilín was killed in a bad accident over in England. His body was brought home to Ireland after a few weeks and most of the family came back to Inis Treabhair and spent some time back in the home place that summer.

Over east at An Caladh ó Thuaidh is where the two Sonaí’s’ lived. Colm Ó Nia or Sonaí Chóilín Choilm and his wife Mary Neidín Sweeney from Leitir Calaidh. Sonaí Chóilín was the oldest person living on the island and they had no children. Across the wall from them – the two houses were very close to one another – lived Sonaí Mhicil Mharcaisín Ó Conghaile and his wife Mary. There were seven children in that