A novel way to learn a minority language: Writing a novel in the language
Tim Armstrong
Tim Armstrong is a Senior Lecturer in Gaelic and Communication at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, the Gaelic college on the Isle of Skye, and his novel, Air Cuan Dubh Drillseach, won the 2013 Saltire Society award for best first novel.
I write science fiction in Scottish Gaelic, and when asked why, I have to admit that my reasons are fairly prosaic. While do I hope that my novels might eventually contribute in some way to the continuing vitality of the language; truthfully, that’s not why I do it.
The fact is that I just really enjoy writing—but also, writing long fiction in Gaelic is a great way for me to continue to work on my proficiency in the language.
The tweeted press release touches on a couple of international projects that are being taken forward by UHI’s Language Sciences Institute. It doesn’t have the space to describe in detail how each builds on experience first gained in the Island Voices/Guthan nan Eilean project, and the closely linked development of Clilstore at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. Both of these have grown from originally European Union-funded initiatives.
Island Voices followers who have time and inclination to read a bit more may find the additional information below of interest.
“Taisce bheo na nGael/Stòras Beò nan Gàidheal” is a joint Irish/Scottish Gaelic ethnographic retrieval project in which community-based expert speakers are recorded in their own homes. The first stage of the Scottish side of the project was completed shortly before lockdown began. There are now 15 hours of video material with Clilstore transcriptions on the Institute’s website, with access open to all. Project partners are now testing out alternative ways of making recordings online, in case continuing lockdown restrictions mean the Irish recording stage needs to be tackled in a different way.
The same issue has also arisen with the Institute’s “Mediating Multilingualism” project in India, in partnership with Amity University Haryana and the Indian network of Centres for Endangered Languages. With COVID-19 continuing to cause severe disruption to university-based activities there (including fieldwork), the project team has already been trialling the production of home-based recordings for publication on the same, highly flexible, online Clilstore platform. Six Indian languages have been recently added to its linguistic range. Some of these are featured in the short Gaelic film (subtitled in English) “Dà Dhùthaich Iomadh Cànan/Two Lands Many Languages” produced by the UHI team after visiting Shillong in North-East India at the end of 2019 (the International Year of Indigenous Languages). This is also available to view online on the project’s webpage.
Belying Alasdair MacDonald’s youthful looks and demeanour, we’re reliably informed that 14th October 2020 is a particularly special day, marking the completion of his 80th year. We can only wish him many more happy returns!
We mark the day by featuring his own contributions to the Stòras Beò nan Gàidheal collection, in conversation with Archie Campbell. Alasdair has his own inimitable style in rich North Uist Gaelic, and we’re grateful for his daughter Kirsty’s help with one or two words in the transcripts that had left earlier scribes rather scratching their heads…
In the first part, Alasdair talks about his life-time commitment to crofting on North Uist, which his son is now continuing. His first schooling was in Carinish, with his fondest memory being of getting out into the garden, followed by Bayhead, and one year in Inverness, which he didn’t like. On returning to Uist he has worked his croft full-time ever since. He recalls the house-visiting customs of earlier times. His wife, Annie, is from Broughty Ferry, but Alasdair would find it difficult to live somewhere else if it wasn’t by the sea. He’s seen many changes since the time crofters would work with horses, and he explains fertilising and storage practices using seaweed and potatoes.
In the second part, Alasdair remarks on developments since the 60s, such as the advent of tractors for horses, the Baleshare causeway, local government reorganisation, and European Union development funds. He also talks about a visit to New Zealand and the evident Gaelic influence in its recent history. The discussion shifts to discussion of changes in the Uist physical environment. Shipwrecks are also talked about and the cargo they might yield. Alasdair explains the history of the name Crois Mòraig, and talks about the strength of Gaelic in the community, and reflects on the rhythm of the seasons experienced through crofting.
Seo clàradh dhen phrìomh òraid a rinn mi aig co-labhairt bhliadhnail a’ Foundation for Endangered Languages dà sheachdain air ais. B’ ann innte a bhruidhinn mi air Sabhal Mòr Ostaig agus air foghlam tro mheadhan na Gàidhlig aig ìre an oilthighe.
Tha mi a’ creidsinn gu làidir anns a’ Cholaiste. Tha i sònraichte, agus mar a thuirt mi aig deireadh na h-òraid, tha mi am beachd gu bheil i a’ cur gu mòr ri neart na Gàidhlig:
A college that not only teaches about a minority language, but that also functions in that language, can serve as a revitalizing site of language use, as an organizing node in networks of minority-language speakers, and also, as a powerful site for ideological clarification in the context of a broader language-revival social movement. Establishing new sites of minority-language use is always a challenge, and no less so on a college campus like Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. In our work at the College, we have found that it is a common error to vastly underestimate the scale of this challenge. We yearn for language use that feels natural, that seems to just happen, but those days are long gone for Gaelic. If we aim to have Gaelic spoken in a particular space, then we have to self-consciously promote Gaelic use in that space. Keeping Gaelic going at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig requires continual ideological work; it never just happen ‘naturally’.
This disappoints some folk. For detractors, Gaelic as a networked, activist language feels artificial, fake, or staged in some way, but I strongly reject this critique. I spend almost all of my waking hours speaking Gaelic. It is my working language, I use it with my network of Gaelic-speaking friends on Skye, and I speak it at home. Gaelic isn’t a hobby or a performance for me; it’s a real, living language. And each year, I have the opportunity to work with a new group of talented young adults who are strengthening their Gaelic skills and acquiring strong identity connections to the language, and who then go on to use Gaelic in their daily lives, working in Gaelic and raising families in Gaelic all over Scotland and beyond. Gaelic isn’t a dead language for them either.
We are all very lucky. None of us would have these opportunities without the College. Sabhal Mòr Ostaig is our speech community, and for all its flaws, it serves as a powerful driver of the revival of Scottish Gaelic as a vital, spoken language in the 21st century.
We continue our exploration of the North Uist cluster in Stòras Beò nan Gàidheal with Donald MacDonald – “Dòmhnall Caol” – from Baleshare. As we’ll hear, Donald was a well-travelled man in Europe and the Middle East before settling back home to full-time crofting. Talking to Archie Campbell in measured tones, Donald takes his time to give a detailed account of his adventures.
Here, in the first part, Donald recalls his schooling and first job. Going to primary school in Baleshare he found he made faster progress with a Gaelic-speaking teacher. Illness interrupted his education at Bayhead, before he spent 5 years in Inverness, where he encountered some hostility as a “teuchter”, and experienced a distancing from his family. A happier memory was of salmon poaching in Lewis on his way home, where he started work in a bank before being transferred to Glasgow.
In the second part, Donald recalls giving up his job in Glasgow, and then poignantly describes how his father saw him off at the quay in Lochmaddy as he set off on his travels round Europe. He recounts various adventures with various travelling companions, before arriving in Turkey. Troubles at the time between Turkey and Greece over Cyprus caused difficulties with the post.
In the third and final part, Donald describes his adventures crossing to the West Bank from Syria to spend time in a kibbutz. He was then called home in light of his father’s serious illness, which meant that Donald had to take over responsibility for the croftwork. Working several crofts together he made a living for a while selling cattle and beef, with partners in Elgin and customers in Ardnamurchan. While his father was alive they would also host Gaelic learners. Following a mini-stroke he no longer keeps cattle, but a neighbour continues to use his land.
Leis an t-sìde bhrèagha a th’ againn a-nis (tha mi a’ sgrìobhagh seo gu deireadh na Sultaine), bidh mi a’ coiseachd a-muigh air an dùthaich cho tric ‘s a ghabhas. Agus gach uair, chan urrainn dhomh gun a bhith a’ buain nan smeuran agus ag ithe mo làn-shàth dhiubh. Tha iad cho pailt am bliadhna, agus cho blasda! Leugh mi gu bheil atharrachadh na h-aimsir a tha air a bhith againn o chionn beagan bhliadhnaichean – samhraidhean fliuch agus foghair ghrianach thioram – sònraichte math do smeuran (agus chan ann math idir do shuibheagan). Fàsaidh iad mòr sòghmhor leis an taiseachd, agus milis fo ghrian an fhoghair, agus cumaidh iad a’ dol fad mòran seachdainean.
‘S e dearcan iol-chomasach a th’ anns na smeuran. ‘S urrainn dhut an ithe amh bhon phreas no ann am mìlseanan fuara, no silidh a dhèanamh, no crumbles is pàidhean (blasda cuideachd còmhla ri ùbhlan), no fìon no liciùr-sine … liosta gun chrìoch. Ach bha iad riamh aithnichte mar chungaidh-leighis cuideachd, gu h-àraidh mar fhìon-geur a tha math airson an tùchaidh, a’ chasaid agus thrioblaidean-gaillich, ach cuideachd airson na buainniche, ann an daoine agus crodh.
Ach bha taobh aig na smeuran nach robh idir cho fallain, a-rèir beòil-aithris: cha bu chòir dhut am buain ro fhadalach sa bhliadhna, air sgàth’s gur e measan an diabhail a bhiodh annta às dèidh na Samhain, no fiù ‘s às dèidh Fèill Mhìcheil. B’ urrainn dhut cuideachd duine no beathach a chur fo gheasaibh olc aig an t-Samhain le pìos dris-mheòir.
Tha na meanganan deilgneach den dris gun teagamh cunnartach gu leòr iad fhèin, gun draoidheachd sam bith eile. Dionaidh nàdar a mheasan gu math, agus bheir na drisean fasgadh do h-eòin is beathaichean beaga, fhads ’s a bhios na blàthan, na dearcan agus na duilleagan a’ còrdadh ri seilleanan agus dealain-dè. Agus na dearcan rinne cuideachd! Is fhiach daonnan e dèiligeadh ris an droigheann gus an toradh milis a bhuannachadh.
Seo seann tòimhseachan:
Is àirde e na ‘n t-each
Is lugha e na ‘n luch
Is deirge e na ‘n fhuil
Is duibhe e na ‘m fitheach.
Dè a th’ ann? Smeuran air dris!
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Brambles
With the weather being so beautiful just now (I’m writing this towards the end of September), I go for walks out in the country as often as possible. And every time, I can’t resist picking brambles and eating my fill. They’re so plentiful this year, and so delicious! I read that the change in weather patterns the last few years – wet summers and dry, sunny autumns – are particularly good for brambles (and not good at all for rasps). They grow big and luscious with the humidity, and sweet under the autumn sun, and they keep producing for many weeks.
They’re really versatile berries. You can eat them straight from the bush, or with cold desserts, or make jam or jelly, or crumbles and tarts (tasty in with apples too), or wine or gin liqueur … it’s an endless list. But they have also always been known as a medicine, especially as a vinegar, which is good for sore throats, coughs and gum troubles, but also for diarrhoea in humans and cattle.
But there was a much less healthy side to brambles too, according to folk tradition: you shouldn’t pick them too late in the year, as they were supposedly the devil’s fruit after Halloween, or even after Michaelmas. You could also put people or animals under an evil spell with a piece of bramble branch at Halloween.
The thorny branches of the briar are certainly dangerous enough on their own, without any other magic. Nature protects her fruits well, and the briars give shelter to small birds and animals, while bees and butterflies love the blossoms, berries and leaves. And we humans love the berries too! It’s always worth coping with the thorns to win the sweet harvest.
Thèid na Duaisean Litreachais Ghàidhlig a chraoladh beò air youtube a-màireach. Tha Às na Freumhan air geàrr-liosta na duaise aig Dòmhnall Meek am bliadhna. Bithibh ann no bithibh fann!!
Angus MacPhail from Clachan in North Uist is another well-known member of the community who kindly agreed to contribute to the Stòras Beò nan Gàidheal project, often seen on stage in local drama productions, as well as working hard behind the scenes. Here, he talks to Archie Campbell.
In the first part of the conversation he reveals his Boreray ancestry, and talks about his schooling in both North and South Uist before finishing in Inverness, with impressions of hostel life and being regarded as a “teuchter” in the town. Studying Civil Engineering in Aberdeen, he shared lodgings with other islanders, and was involved in inter-university competitions in shinty and through the pipe-band. Work took him to Inverawe first, followed by London (where he met his Irish wife), and then back to Scotland. Always keeping in touch with fellow Gaels, when they moved to Loch Broom they got involved with An Comunn Gàidhealach, and he also volunteered with the Mountain Rescue team.
In the second part, Angus talks about their life for 7 years around Applecross and the north-west, with his wife being a district nurse and also doing B&B, in an area where there was still some Gaelic spoken. They then moved back to Uist (via Lewis) when Comhairle nan Eilean Siar was formed. This was a busy time with lots of civil engineering work on roads and new developments. He talks about the development of the strong local Gaelic drama group, and plans for the local history society. Other interests include boating, and his garden – though this was mainly his wife’s work. He discusses the changes he’s seen in Carinish, and his international links through family in Australia and Ireland.
Tha e na urram mòr dhomh gun do chuireadh Às na Freumhan ri geàrr-liosta Duais Dhòmhnaill Meek am bliadhna! Mealaibh ur naidheachd air a h-uile ùghdar air an liosta!!
Güney Uist adasında bulunan Daliburgh kasabasinda her sene düzenlenen, İskoç Galcesi ve Galik müziği eğitimi veren Ceòlas yaz okulu hakkında kısa bir belgesel.
The Island Voices project is very grateful to Şirin Bryson for this Turkish version of our Series One documentary on the Ceòlas summer school – yet another addition to our “Other Tongues” collection!
Şirin works as a Pupil Support Assistant at Bun-Sgoil Taobh na Pairce in Edinburgh, where she puts her Certificate of Higher Education in Gaelic to good use. She also speaks English, in addition to her Turkish. And she’s learned Japanese too. “I believe learning multiple languages has many benefits. One of them being able to connect to the culture where the language comes from.” Cho fìor ‘s a ghabhas!
As usual, we have also created a Clilstore unit for this film, so you can read a wordlinked transcript while you watch and listen to the embedded video: http://multidict.net/cs/8726
Happy Birthday to Alasdair Crois Mòraig!
We continue our exploration of the North Uist cluster in 
Angus MacPhail from Clachan in North Uist is another well-known member of the community who kindly agreed to contribute to the 
Güney Uist adasında bulunan Daliburgh kasabasinda her sene düzenlenen, İskoç Galcesi ve Galik müziği eğitimi veren Ceòlas yaz okulu hakkında kısa bir belgesel.