Thought I'd revive this one as it's been on my mind. This is mostly, though not exclusively, about my own prejudices and how they have been confronted and challenged by my/our exploration of our SHARED ancient past.
When I first read in TMA, the book, "the elevated Cnoc Fillibhear Bheag (pronounced 'Krawk Filliver Veg'),…", I instinctively thought, 'Bloody typical. An Englishman's sloppy and infantile interpretation of a language he doesn't, and couldn't be bothered his arse trying to, understand. How sad.' How often have I seen this approach when the English have turned their gaze on my country and its language? [Prejudice number one.]
From an early age every Irish child is taught what is here commonly called 'Irish', i.e. what everyone else calls Gaelic. A rudimentary grasp (like mine) of this language tells you that cnoc is pronounced Kinuck with the 'i' just barley intoned. Filliver wasn't a bad go but veg for bheag grated. I would say viug, one syllable.
Now for the tricky bit. There are wide variations in pronunciation of many Irish words throughout the country. There are even different words for the same thing. One of the teachers that we had in school was from Donegal and he taught us that the word for forty was daiched (daw-hid). When I went to stay in the Galway Gaelteacht as a 12-year-old, the bean an tí (ban on tee, woman of the house) had to ask her daughter what daichead meant. Her word for 40 was ceirce (Kerriki, with the 2nd i, once again, barley intoned).
I had a natural love of this language but in the school environment it was decidedly unpopular. These days its popularity has further plummeted. Per head of population, more Welsh people speak Welsh than Irish speak Irish. I'm always a little envious when they come over for the rugby and I hear them use their native tongue with such ease. The long war (what Julian refers briefly to as "…the daily news of deaths caused by Protestants v. Catholics"), amongst many other things, has had severe and mulit-faceted effects on the Irish language. Broadly speaking, most Irish kids hate having to learn it. They couldn't be arsed and don't see any point to it. (The sociological theorist in me wants to put his down to the self-hatred of the colonised, but ultimately this won't wash.)
A lot of of these thoughts were provoked by this short passage in the book, and then this thread started. Instinct said: 'Stay out of it Andy. You're new here and you're better off just concentrating on the stones.' Witness what has gone on recently in the forum. Besides, Scottish Gaelic, though it is more or less the same language, has some pretty wild differences to Irish. Krawk for cnoc is entirely acceptable and correct. I liked Fourwind's theory of the crock of shit/gold but was less enamoured of the leprechaun and walking home from the pub stuff. My discomfort didn't last as we moved on to Towcester/toaster territory.
I've since read the front essay of The Megalithic European and am reading Michael J. O'Kelly's book on his excavations at Newgrange. Were these ancient peoples in competition with each other? I've never been to Avebury, but is it 'better' that Brú na Boinne? There's a theory that the iron-age defensive forts on the Aran Islands off the coast of Galway and Clare were never used for any battles or war, but were there as a warning, stating: "Look. Don't mess with us. We're capable of this so move on." There's also the 'biggest capstone in Europe' at Browne's Hill portal tomb, the 25% of all European rock art at Knowth. We're taking national pride in all of this and yet the ancients knew no borders or nations.
Please, if you've got this far, take all of this with a pinch of salt. I offer all of this as the confused ramblings of a newcomer finding his way. There is no offence meant by any of it. In the end I can put all the bullshit aside and sit on Seefin (thanks to an Englishman's recommendation) and think, 'wow, isn't life great and the world a beautiful place.'
