LANGUAGE REVIVAL 101: A quick-start guide

Language / Dialect Revival / Revitalisation 101

Àdhamh Ó Broin | Gáilig Dhail Riada (Dalriada Gaelic) | www.dalriada.scot

28 / 07 / 2018

This quick start guide begins as if the would-be revivalist / revitaliser knows absolutely nothing about the language / dialect the poor fortunes of which they are attempting to reverse, nor the processes through which this can be achieved. It also assumes that the target tongue is more or less moribund. It will set out a summary of what is necessary to reach the point at which a person can say that their target language / dialect is now “living”. It is by no means exhaustive and suggestions of additions shall be welcomed. Henceforth, we will use the term “the language” (L) for this component of the process. The article will continue as if the revivalist / revitaliser is being addressed directly.

PURPOSE

• You must be clear about the purpose of what you are doing from the very first instance. This does not mean that you need know exactly how you are going to go about the process of the revival / revitalisation, but you must know in your own heart why you are prioritising this work as part of your life.

• These reasons can seem wooly when you first attempt to explain them to others. Do not tell anyone but your most trusted friends and family about what you are embarking upon. Be prepared for even their reactions to be any of the following: bewilderment; pleasant surprise; occasionally even hostility.

• Do not expect to be able to articulate what you feel in logical terms but know that the burning passion in your heart for the L and the deep sense of injustice at its demise is exactly the force necessary to maintain the struggle long term.

• Remember that you are embarking upon a long, hard, winding, narrow, over-grown road tended by a few (if any), often ageing people, sometimes with a lifetime of struggle and prejudice towards the L as the lion’s share of their experience. You must treat these people with reverential respect whilst not making them feel that they are under any pressure to indulge you and your mission. Their priorities can often seem out of kilter with your own sense of urgency, especially if there is an age gap between you. This does not mean that they do not care for the L.

INTERNET SEARCH

• The very first practical thing you should do is to make use of the world wide web. Even if regular access is not possible, an initial stint of a couple of hours with a search engine is fundamental to beginning the process.

• Having searched the web, note down every single reference to the L. Read everything you can possibly set your eyes upon and begin to acquire an awareness of what is known and understood about the L.

• Make special note of any texts which make the slightest reference to the L and track them down. Be relentless in your acquisition of this knowledge.

TEXTS

• If you are lucky enough to come across a guide to the L which contains a breakdown of the linguistic make-up of the tongue and / or a history of its social circumstances, treat this as a sacred text. If the text contains specialist terminology or IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet), learn to read this as a matter of course. Be prepared to do anything to acquire knowledge of the L.

• If the L already has a dictionary, you are in great shape. If not, the process for the construction of this will be touched on later in the article, although we have only just managed to begin the construction of a dictionary for Dalriada Gaelic and so are very much at the beginning with this ourselves.

• Remember that if there are people who studied the L in the past and wrote about it, this does not make them uniquely qualified on the subject even if they learned to speak it fluently themselves. Linguists are incredibly useful allies, but their interest is often dispassionate. This is not what you are. This language is about to become a huge part of your life and one of the reasons for getting up in the morning if it is not already.

• Keep your texts – if you have them – close, but get to know them back to front in order that you can consign them to the shelf after a couple of years and become the living conduit the L needs to be truly revived / revitalised.

RECORDINGS

• Are there recordings of speakers of the L that have survived in collections? Can you get access to them? Go about this process with patience and respect.

• If so, even if you do not understand a word of what is being spoken at first, it is essential that you get to know every recorded minute of collected evidence for the L like the back of your hand. As you acquire knowledge of the vocabulary and grammar of the L, so the recordings that you have been listening to will begin to make more and more sense. A new world or knowledge, idiom and expression will open up to you.

• Treat any recordings you manage to acquire access to with total reverence. They are often your lifeline (especially if the L has passed entirely out of use) back to a time when people spoke the L with fluency and gusto and sometimes to a time when people preferred speaking the L to the dominant language of the area in which the L is / was native.

LIVING SPEAKERS

• You have done all that you can do from a remote position for the moment. The next step – if you do not already live in the area where the L is / was spoken – is to pay a visit and locate the aforementioned old people still living in the area and native to it and very respectfully ask for a little of their time. Even if they are not speakers themselves, they sometimes have superbly useful anecdotal evidence of use of the L, treatment of its speakers and collections of words and phrases remembered from childhood.

• Once arrived in the area where the L is / was found, visit someone a little younger initially; someone who will likely not be intimidated by a stranger showing up on their doorstep or in their place of work. The best people to visit in the first instance are people who work or operate in places with a high turnover of local older folks e.g. the post office, café or religious centre. Be humble, by all means inquisitive, but above all patient. The process of reviving the L may take half a lifetime (depending on the numbers of pre-existing speakers) to guide back into the land of the living.

• Aim to meet your first speaker of the L face to face rather than over the phone. We all know how many krank calls people receive these days and one more person phoning up out of the blue will rarely be welcome. When visiting an older speaker who has been recommended by someone who knows the local area, make your first stop a very short one, unless the person who opens their door to you is clearly very gregarious by nature. The best possible outcome of this first meeting is that the person realises that you are not in the business of trying to scam them out of anything or that you have any vested interest outside of the subject at hand. As stated earlier, they may not understand your motivations or seem to appreciate how precarious the state of the L is. Often, their entire life experience has taught them that to adhere to their native tongue is to invite trauma, so be prepared for the tables to be turned and for you to be treated as the curiosity.

• Try to bear in mind that the best thing you will receive during the course of your relationship with this new acquaintance is their friendship. The acquisition of the mindset of people native to an area as evidenced by the way they speak / spoke is every single bit as important as the words / phrases themselves. As you learn the L and begin to allow your thoughts to be dictated by it, you will find that the mannerisms of the native people with whom you spend your time will begin to take root in you. This is when you begin to become a true advocate for the L as you have acquired the insider knowledge needed to make sure that your future students are learning the real thing. As the words give voice to the mindset, so the mindset gives order to the words.

• More importantly than anything else, no matter what you have read / acquired in the run-up to meeting any native speaker of the L: do not assume expert ability of any kind, nor command of what you believe are the facts. If you wish to encourage the person who may or may not become an active sponsor of what you do to share their words, point of view and their living room with you, you must defer at all times to their knowledge of their tongue. Do not involve yourself in political, philosophical or ethical discussions with them in these early days; sometimes their perspective on these things can seem in diametric opposition to what you believe to be in line with being a speaker of the L. The experience of your sponsor is what it is and it is not your place to judge them when your own perspective may be gleaned from a very different range of experiences to theirs despite the common ground that is the L.

COLLECTION

• During examination of texts and recordings, you must find a neat, practical and very importantly sustainable way to note information that is new to you. If this is just a notebook and pencil, be aware that at some stage down the line you will probably have to think about digitising everything you have written. If you have access to a tablet or laptop, perhaps consider an Excel sheet or notebook tool of some kind. Ensure that this format will be transferable to other media as you never know where the future might take you. You will start so small and yet years later may look back and wish that you had maintained the same information collection format since the beginning, rather than having to rake through dozens of notebooks and documents when compiling a dictionary.

• During your conversations with speakers, making sound recordings like the ones you may have been lucky enough to listen to, is essential. You must take your time, potentially over a matter of days or even weeks if you are managing to visit your (hopefully growing) speaker base regularly, before bringing up the concept of their being recorded. Of course if you do not have any speakers you can consult, or even people with anecdotal knowledge, these steps will not rear their heads and you will be reliant on archive recordings alone. If there are no recordings, you may have to rely on recordings of neighbouring dialects / languages to supply you with a framework into which to patch your growing knowledge of the L.

• Every word, phrase, idiom, proverb, story and song that you acquire during the process of your collection are the tools of your reclamation. Treat every syllable of everything you acquire as absolutely sacred. If you do this, the material will not let you down as it once belonged to an integrated system of communication which functioned to perfection within the world of the supporting culture of the L. It once contained – and may still contain – everything you need.

• Do not be disheartened if you think you have scraped a particular barrel and yet are still not at the point where you feel the L is anywhere near complete in terms of lexicon or idiomatic expression. You will most likely be collecting for the rest of your life as speakers, documents and recordings come to light.

• If you feel after a number of years that you have scraped every possible barrel and yet still have not recreated what you know to be a complete language, do not dispair. You have come further than anyone else on planet earth was prepared to come in restoring honour and upholding justice in service of the L. You can only make use of what evidence and people are in existence. A person missing a leg is no less a human being for the lack of it. Likewise, the L may be able to make use of new technology and ideas in the future which will allow it to function again on its own terms.

NEW LIFE

• The next stage in the life of the L is in the passing of it to new speakers, whether your own children or passionate people wishing to get closer to their ancestry. Sometimes the L is just part of a culture towards which they feel a respect or draw. All reasons for wishing to acquire the L must be treated as equal, but only if the desire and application of the student is equal to the task at hand.

• There are often no manuals for the L or sometimes only manuals for the dominant dialects of it. Students will have to maintain a dogged dedication to the acquisition of those languages which are moribund, on the verge of it, or have little in the way of supplementary material; despite your best efforts so far, you will have to be willing to answer a lot of mechanically-oriented questions from your students about the why and the why not. Remember you were once where they were, but they now have a guide!

• In our experience it is absolutely crucial to establish a domestic heart for the language. This may be a local café, the house of a particularly hospitable and sociable local person, or it could be a historic location where speakers of the language once lived and which still provides the potential for domestic use. The establishment of a protected spot, where the pressures of the dominant culture of the area can be controlled, will prove extremely beneficial to the mental state of teachers and learners alike.

• It is also very useful, especially for those who do not have an obvious ethnic and/or cultural and/or spiritual structure already in place for their language to slot back into, to establish a place of quiet which holds special significance for the L or once played host to the ritual activity of the ancestors. In order to build up the stamina required to help the L survive into the millenia ahead, there must be a place in your mind, your spirit and your country into which you can disappear, unmolested by the expectations of the dominant culture.

• The idea of reviving the L is not to provide just another way for you to interface with global western culture. The concept of doing all of this work, preparation and investigation is to provide an antedote to the lack of community you may witness, the lack of cultural meaning you may feel exists in your life, and perhaps the lack of something which belongs to you and which you can employ to transport you back through the vertical carrying stream of your people or the people you wish to support by learning their language.

• If you raise children, raise them as speakers of the L first, and citizens of the world second. They must feel that the only way to reach deep within themselves is through the L. They may use the dominant language of their area to communicate with the rest of the planet, go to school, or access world literature, but raise them with the L at the heart of their spiritual, cultural and family lives. Raise warriors for the L.

• Assume an identity which is in keeping with the traditions of the L and stick to it like glue. If you can easily translate your name, do so. If not, be on the look-out for names which fit with your journey and might allow you to take a sidestep out of the dominant mindset and into one befitting of your language. Remember also that names can often not be simply picked up and used; a name may have to be given to you. If you have them, make sure your native sponsors understand that it is important to you to redefine who you are in line with the L. You never know, you might just end up being given a name far more special than one you could have picked for yourself.

• Do not be afraid to make use of all of the cultural tools available. These may include music, crafts and clothing. As long as you are not making use of things which do not belong to you or your people or things to which you have not yet respectfully gained access, there is no reason to be embarrassed about the use of traditional cultural emblems. Be meticulous in your research of them and acquire knowledge of their correct use / practice / delivery with care, always deferring to native knowledge.

• Finally... we may not know your language, but we know that it deserves your devotion and that of your (future) students and without 100% dedication, it will simply slip off back into the decline from which you rested it in the first place. BELIEVE, because it can be done. Only determiation lies between you and success.

FROM THE AUTHOR:

Gáilig Dhail Riada is a dialect of Scottish Gaelic which began the 20th century as the dominant means of communication within the central portion of Argyle, a county of Scotland. Despite being alluded to in academic texts and recorded fitfully throughout that century, it had no name. Its decline during the years after WWII was dramatic – as with all other Gaelic dialects – and it began the 21^st century with a small handful of semi-speakers, none of whom were able to do much more than discuss the most basic everyday subjects. In 2009, I returned to the area for the first time in ten years, having grown up there as a child and visited regularly as a young adult and began research into and collection of the dialect using the means described above. Its current situation is that we have one elderly semi-speaker whose dialect is somewhat mixed and one fluent adult learner which is myself. I have raised my youngest three children with the dialect since birth and they are now fiercely proud of their language and think of themselves implicitly as Gaels (the ethno-linguistic grouping of the peoples of Highland Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man) before ascribing any other identity to themselves. We have collected words for everything we can for what is found in nature from a variety of sources and are intimately familiar with every text and recording which features the dialect. In 2017, we staged our first immersion weekend at Auchindrain Township, the domestic home of our language and have run another since, this spring. We have an integrated spiritual and cultural outlook which places the language at the ritual centre of our lives and have instituted a coming of age ceremony for native children and learners alike who are deemed to have reached ability to think, laugh, love, fight and learn through the language and who will be capable of raising – or teaching – new speakers. It is much, much more than a language to us and we hope that our example can be used as a template for others throughout the world.

Most importantly for the purposes of this document and therefore your quest: keep in mind that I did not have the first clue what I was doing when I began this work. I couldn’t be sure that it would be a success with no road map to reference. I just kept my eyes on the next available horizon as I walked and allowed my ambition to grow with each mountain top conquered. Once you have moved past the initial stages, look back on what you have achieved so far and remember that you once knew nothing. Do not focus constantly on what you still have to do. It will only be achieved via small and often irregular increments.

We would very much like to be in touch with anyone who is in – or is considering entering – a similar programme of reclamation. We would be thrilled to compare notes and hope that our experience is useful.

Follow our work on Twitter & FB @DalriadaGaelic and visit us at dalriada.scot

Beannachd leibh air an àm,

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Àdhamh, Caoimhe, Lachann & Saorsa

DAIR A BHITHEAS MI 'N ASAINT, IS LEÒDACH MI: A Tale of Two Iains PART 3

IAIN A DHÀ IAIN #2

Assynt is one of those areas which seems somehow to have escaped the academic eye. When it comes to the far north of Scotland, you can start in the south of Rosshire and work your way up, finding most dialects covered by a monograph or a dictionary or a collection of some kind. Only Assynt and Caithness –ironically the two areas which initially interested me because of my family connections- have been left unexamined. I am currently going through the Gaelic Linguictic Survey entries for south Caithness with a fine-toothed comb and finding some very interesting features, especially in comparison with neighbouring dialects. Houston, we have an isolate! Other than that, Caithness will prove a difficult one given the lack of supplementary poetry, song or vocabulary, despite the bonus of 126 specifically dialect entries in Dwelly!

Dualchainnt Ghollaibh an Dwelly

A great bonus for areas not covered by monographs is the Survey of Irish Dialects’ entries for the Scottish section. From Loch Carrann (Lochcarron) up, the northern dialects are covered by the SID, Ternes’ volume on a’ Chomraich (Applecross), Wentworth’s astounding work in Geàrrloch (Gairloch), the terrific little book on a’ Chòigeach (Coigeach) dialect by Domhall Uilleam Stiùbhart (Donald William Stewart) and co, the SID again in Assynt and Seumas Grannd’s coverage of MacKay Country with his delightful dictionary. On the east coast, we have Watson’s fascinating study of Easter Ross Gaelic and the rightly world-famous investigation into East Sutherland Gaelic by my friend of some 6 years now, Nancy Dorian. There’s a lot of great material to work from for potential revival purposes. But from the perspective of the revivalist, will that be enough? If not, what’s missing?

Kenneth Jackson’s insistence on local parentage for all informants involved in the Gaelic Linguistic Survey was a stroke of utter genius. It means that we have as complete and as reliable a picture as can possibly be imagined -in a Highlands now so dreadfully deprived of dialect speakers- of how native Gaels sounded. In terms of what they said, Jackson’s attitude to word geography left a lot to be desired. The subject appears to have been almost looked down upon because of the unpredictability of the results but for me this simply betrays the cloistered lifestyle of the über-academic. The fact of the matter is that for the person on the street, it is words and their variety that capture the imagination, rarely whether someone said /a/ or /ɛ/ or /əɣ/ or /əv/. I mean it’s great to possess this information and we should be mighty glad to have it as part of the picture but over and above that, no-one in their right mind gives a flying phoneme. My experience is that it is only people who have been shut away from the real world their entire lives in universities who believe these concerns to be remotely important. So while phonologists and phonemecists were fighting their fiddly little esoteric battles in the corridors of imagined power, we were losing dozens upon dozens upon dozens of precious words for things, which will never be regained. A-CHAOIDH. Bheil sibh ga mo thuigsinn? (Are you understanding me?) A-CHAOIDH! (EVER!).

SID Volume IV

I must admit, I adore listening to scholars discuss the finer points of lingistics; I could pass hours at it. In fact I have several friends  -they know who they are!- whose knowledge astounds me and to whom I regularly go for all manner of advice, but c’ mon down to brass tacks with me folks, Scotland has been putting the cart squarely before the horse for the last 50 years at least. Since the rumblings of the revival began, we have bent over backwards to keep up with the Whittingtons, establishing a university, drafting all sorts of rules and regulations, insisting that railway station signs in the middle of Lothian are in Gaelic, putting quantity squarely before quality in terms of speakership, and leaving old people who didn’t come from Skye or the Western Isles, whose dialect didn’t “fit”, to quietly pop their clogs in ignominy while the hallowed, well-funded halls of esoteria buzz with essential activity. All of the above-mentioned things had their place, some of them a very large and important place in fact, but I can't help thinking that while the bone was being polished to a sheen worthy of the British establishment, the marrow was yet being sucked out from within.

I’m getting to my point in these blogs by the way, don’t worry... I do have a solution, and it ain’t got sh*t to do with suits, side-partings and seminars. It’s irreverent, old-fashioned and very cheap. Read on.

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STILL YES: taigh ann an Asaint

Having scribbled away into my notebook for a good 15 minutes, I looked up at the sky. It was dimming down and if I didn’t want to be hitting Dornie in the dark and missing my dinner, I’d need to get moving. I scoured my brain for anything else that was said, pulling bits I’d forgotten from the beginning of the conversation with Iain back to mind and writing them down at the end. Iain had long since closed the door and got back to enjoying his Sunday rest as I turned the car around and set off.

His directions took me over a different road or two and I drove for what seemed like longer than it should have been before hitting a gentle brae between the moors with their scattered houses which scooped itself back out of a hollow to arrive at the house of Iain MacIllEathain (Iain MacLean). It was a neat-looking grey number, clearly kept in decent condition by its owner, with a nice garden round about, but nothing too fancy. The sea was visible from the road and the air was cool and laced with moisture. I went through the gate, imagining what Iain looked like, mindful as always of disturbing anyone unnanounced in these days of obsessive organisation.

Robh Iain aig an taigh?

I grew up with people coming in and out of the house completely unannounced. You wouldn’t know someone was visiting our place at Rubh' Bàn (pale point), just north of Taigh na Bruaich (House of the Bank) until they were already upon you, in the door and practically with their arse in the seat waiting for their coffee before you had any idea they’d arrived. Nowadays, if you haven’t Booked someone in the Face, or Grammed them Instantly, or Snapped their Chat, you’re being exceedingly rude. Turn up without texting ahead? How very dare you!

I’m very rarely apprehensive in the Highlands, but this was Sunday, and Assynt was rather a religious neck of the woods not that long ago. I entered the porch, the front door being open, and saw a nimble grey-haired man in his 70s scampering up the stairs of the house. I chapped the glass panel in front of me before he could escape and he peered quizzically through the balustrade, trying to work out if he recognised me.

I stepped back from the porch, not wanting us to have to vye for space within it should he see fit to emerge. And so it was I met with Iain a Dhà (Iain #2).

Iain? He padded back down the stairs and loomed up to the glass with a pleasant if confused expression. Nach gabh sibh mo leisgeal (Won’t you accept my excuse ie excuse me). Thuirt Iain the Gate rium gum bu chòir dhomh tighinn gur faicinn (Iain the Gate said I should come and see you) I said as Iain tugged the front door open.

Ó Iain, tha mi tuigsinn (Oh Iain, I understand).

Thuirt e gur sibhse an duine as fheàrr air son Gàilig an àite (he said you were the best man for the Gaelic of the place ie local Gaelic).

Ó an duirt gu dearbh? says MacIllEathain, amused. Có às a tha u? (where are you from?)

Arra-Gháidheal (Argyll). Chaidh mo thogail shìos taobh Dhùn Omhann, ann an Taigh na Bruaich (I was brought up down Dunoon way, in Tighnabruaich).

Ó tha fhios 'am (oh I know [what you mean]). Shìos an sin, seadh (Down there, yes). Bheil holiday agad an seo? (have you a holiday here?) There must not be that many Argyllmen randomly showing up on Iain’s doorstep these days.

Chan eil. Shiubhail mo mháir 's chaidh a tiodhlacamh an Gollaibh 's cha robh mi air son a dhol air ais a dh’obair anns an uair (No. My mother traveled ie passed away and was buried in Caithness and I didn’t want to go back to work immediately) 's mar sin, bha mi los feuchainn an robh duine sam bith thathast ann an Dùthaich MhicAoidh 's Asainte 's Sgireachd Ròis aig an robh Gàilig an àite (and so I was for seeing [lit. trying] if there was anyone left in MacKay Country, Assynt and Ross who had the local Gaelic).

Ó gu dearbh? (oh really?) Chan eil móran Ghàilig an seo a-nis (there’s not much Gaelic here now). Tha i air bàsachadh air fad ann an seo (She’s completely died here). It could bring a tear to a glass cabinet nevermind an eye, this story, heard as it is from one end of the mainland to the other. An ann à Barraigh a tha a' Ghàilig 'ads'? (is it from Barra your Gaelic is?). That’s a reasonable assumption if you’re from Assynt as my dialect must sound a little outlandish.

Ha-ha, chan ann, 's e dualchainnt an àit' ris am buin mi fhé tha seo. Gáilig Arra-Gháidheil (no, it’s the dialect from where I come from this, Argyll Gaelic).

Seadh, 's e mac-samhladh de Ghàilig nan Eilean a th' agad (Aye, it’s the exact match of the island Gaelic you’ve got). I’m chuffed enough with that, despite it being out by a good couple of miles... mac-samhladh... the likeness’ son; lovely to hear that expression used. Bha mi seòladh chun gu leòr de na h-Eileanan dair a bha mi sa Mherchant Navy (I was sailing to plenty of the islands when I was in the Merchant Navy).

Gu dearbh? (Indeed?) It suddenly hit me as always that I should check and make sure I wasn’t keeping Iain back from his normal activities. Bheil sibh trang an ceartair, robh sibh am beachd itheamh no gas, no a' bheil cothrom againn bruidhinn tacan? (Are you busy just now, were you intending on eating or anything, or have we an opportunity to speak a wee while?)

Ó tha. Ó, chan eil mi trang an-dràst, chan eil (Oh yes. Oh I’m not busy just now, no). Result!

'S e an rud a bh’ ann, bha mi 'g iarraimh beagan cheistean a chur air muinntir an àite seo a thaobh ghnothaichean a theireamh sibh (The thing was, I wanted to put a few questions on the people from here in terms of things you would say).

Chan eil móran ann an Dwelly ás Asainte

Tha mi tuigsinn (I understand).

Bha mi feòraich de dh'Iain, dé theireamh sibh ri na corragan? (I was asking Iain, what would you say to the fingers?). An robh rann sònraichte ann an Asainte orra? (Was there a special verse in Assynt on them?) Iain MacIllEathain looks at me with complete recognition, as if he knows exactly what I mean:

Seadh, bha ainm ac air a h-uile corrag, ach chan eil fhios am·as dé na rainn a bh' ac a-nis (Yes, they had a name on every finger, but I don’t know what the rhymes they had were now). Oh ye booger, I thought I had them there. Having gotten home and finally sat down with my notes to write this blog six months later after a hard winter trying to make ends meet, I have the opportunity to look up the Irish Dialect Survey and much to my disappointment, the finger names are not listed. It appears as if the people of Assynt referred to them as meòirean and to a single one as a miar, but there are only the following individual names for the fingers, the last two of which strike me as Beurlachas (Gaenglish): òrdag (little hammer), ____ (no entry), ____ (no entry), miar an fhàinn (ring finger), miar beag (little finger).

Nis, na bh’ againn an Arra-Gháidheal, 's e seo (now what we had in Argyll was this): òrdag (little hammer), corragag (little finger), mealla-fada (long lump), mac an lùba (son of the pinkie), lùdag (pinkie). I had gotten this from Ràibeart Mac a’ Bhiucair (Robbie MacVicar), our last native speaker, and for all my lack of formal training have gone over it every time I’ve seen him since to make sure I’ve got the right version. Apart from a little vascillation over whether it’s lùdag or lùbag, I get the same thing every time, with very little prompting.

Ó, nis, lùbag, bha sin againn (oh, now, lùbag, we had that) Given my experience with Robbie, it’s interesting that Iain has said this word with a b rather than a d... ach chan eil cuimhn am·as air (but I don’t remember on)...

...air an fheamhainn sa mheadhan? (on the ones in the middle?) I added.

Chan eil, chan eil (I don’t, no.) Och chan eil feadhainn Ghàilig ann a-nis ann, chan eil (Oh there’s no Gaelic ones here whatsoever, no). Chaochail a’ chuid mhór aig an robh Gàilig (The biggest lot with Gaelic changed ie died).

Feumaidh gu robh gu leòr a Ghàilig ga bruidhinn bho cheann dà fhichead bliana? (there must have been plenty of Gaelic spoken 20 years ago?) I venture, keen to find out more about the shift in Assynt.

Och seadh, tha cuimhn am·as air thoiseach, bha Gàilig ga bridhinn sa h-uile taigh (oh aye, I have a memory at the beginning [of Iain’s life], Gaelic was spoken in every house).

Sa h-uile taigh, seamh (in every house, yes). This is painfully familiar.

A-nis, chan eil gin de·n fheadhainn shuas Loch an Inbhir ach mi fhìn 's Iain a bhridhneas Gàidhlig, chan eil (Now there aren’t any up Lochinver but myself and Iain that speak Gaelic, no). Chan eil gin ann (There aren’t any).

"poca-salainn" ann an Asainte

Nise, ceist eile a chuir mi air Iain ach cha robh fhios aige·san (Now, another question I put on Iain but he didn’t know). Thuirt e nach do bhruidhinn e mun cuairt air a leithid bhon a bha e na bhalach! (He said that he hadn’t spoken about the like of it [in Gaelic] since he was a boy!). Dé theireamh sibhse san dùthaich seo ri spider?

Ó, after a moment’s thought, chanainn “poca-salainn”, ach chan eil mi glé chinnteach (Oh, I’d say poca-salainn [salt-bag], but I’m not quite certain). That’s the very boy though, the very boy!

Feumaidh gum bitheamh e car coltach ri sin (It must be that it would be fairly similar to that), bhon sin a th' aca an Sgìreachd Ròis co-thiù (for that is what they had in Ross-shire anyway)... bhon a tha a thòin car geal (because his bum is somewhat white ie salty-looking).

Och seadh (oh yes). Gu dearbh feumaidh (indeed it must), sin a bhiodh an ùis co-dhiù (that’s what would be in use anyway). It seems just discussing it a little further has affirmed Iain’s conception of whether the word is right or not. Sometimes it’s dicy to speak further on it, in case an erroneous response is set in stone, but in this case Iain’s word was spontaneous without prompting and can be taken as representative of Assynt. A check with the SID entry and we get pocan-salainn, a diminutive version, and interestingly lacking pre-aspiration. Och, tha móran ann (oh there are lots) says Iain continuing on:

Na h-eòin bheag' an sin; stonechat a chanas iad sa Bheurla. Nach e “clachair” a bh' ac orr? (The little birds there, “stonechat” they say in English, isn’t it clachair they have on them?) If only I had a couple of days up here to get into all of this...

"clachair"

Och sna lathan air dol seachad, bha ainm ac air a h-uile dithean 's a h-uile beothach (oh in the days gone by, they had a name on every flower and animal) I reminisce, as if I had been there. That makes Iain think of something amusing.

Rud a bha mi smaoineachadh air (a thing I was thinking on) he says, dé a' Ghàilig a th' ac air umbrella? (What’s their Gaelic for an umbrella?).

Sgàilean, cha chreib mi (Shade, I reckon), quoting the standard tongue. Iain nods, but is clearly in thought. The word doesn’t seem too familiar to him.

Tha beagan diofar eadar a' Ghàilig ann an Leódhas agas Uibhist (there’s a bit of a difference between the Gaelic in Lewis and Uist) says Iain, gesticulating towards the sea as if to bring back to mind that there are islands out there to the west.

Ó tha, I agree, theirinn gu bheil a' Ghàilig an seo (I’d say the Gaelic here), gu bheil i nas coltaiche ri Gàilig Leódhais na tha i ri na h-Eileanan eile ge-ta (that it’s a little more similar to Lewis Gaelic than it is to the other Isles). I’m keen to find out if Iain a Dhà thinks so too.

Ó tha gu dearbh, ó tha (oh yes indeed, oh it is), he replies. Tha i nas fhaisg air a' Ghàilig a th' ac an sin (It is closer to the Gaelic they have there). Ach na bha aid a’ bridhinn an seo, 's e seòrsa Gàilig eile bha sin (But what they were speaking here, it was a different kind of Gaelic). It’s lovely to hear that self-awareness, that distinctness acknowledged by someone who is still a source of it himself. Iain’s kind are on the way out on the mainland, and very, very few people seem to consider it loss enough to get off their backsides and put on the brakes. Native Gaelic in the Scottish mainland will be dead in 30 years. TOPS. Are we ready to admit that to ourselves?

Nise, dé bha sibhse 'g ràdh ann an seo (Now, what were you saying here) air –mar a their ead anns a’ Bheurla- how are you? (on –as they say in English- “how are you?”) Dé a bh' agaibh·se air sin? (What did you have on that?). I’m always curious about this one. We once produced a map here at DROITSEACH showing where the different phrases were used and I’m keen to settle a debate raised by someone who was sure that cionnas a tha u? was used all the way from Gairloch north.

Ó, “ciamar a tha u?” Iain says without hesitation.

"ciamar a tha u?"

“ciamar a tha u?”? I repeat, slightly surprised. Bhon, daoine shuas taobh Dhùthaich MhicAoidh, their ead “cionnas a tha u?” (Because, people up MacKay Country way, they say cionnas a tha u?) Ach ‘s e “ciamar” a bh’ agaibh ann an seo? (But it’s ciamar that you had here?)

Ó 's e (oh it was).

Agas 's e “ciamar” a bh' aig ur pàrantan cuideachd? (And it’s ciamar that your parents had too?)

Ó gu dearbh, 's e (oh indeed, yes). That’s that one beyond any doubt.

Tha sibh ga mo thuigsinn a-nis, nach eil? (you’re understanding me now, aren’t you?). I often try to speak the dialect of the older generation if I’m with them to make sure I come over ok, but in this case I wasn’t too sure what the dialect of Assynt was like. Unlike the MacKay Country where I can converse quite freely in the local patois, here I thought while I’d better round out some obvious Dalriadisms, I may well just confuse matters by starting to make guesses about what might be more comprehensible. Sure, they’ll say can instead of abair (say) and obvious northern things like that, but I didn’t want to go out on too weak a branch on a first visit.

Och tha, tha glé cheart a-nis (oh yes, just fine now). I’m off the hook!

Ach co-thiù, cha robh mi ach dol seachad (But anyway, I was but going past), tha mi dol sìos thun an Dòrnaidh a-nochd (I’m going down to the Dornie tonight).

Ó, an Dòrnaidh, tha mi tuigsinn (oh the Dornie, I understand).

Thuirt mi ri Iain, an ath uair a bhitheas mi 'dol seachad (I said to Iain, the next time I’m going past), thig sinn uile comhla 's bruidhnidh sinn beagan Gàilig (we’ll all come together and speak a little Gaelic).

Ó seadh, glé mhath, nì sinn sin ma-thà (Oh yes, very good, we’ll do that then). There’s no sense of imposition about this idea in Iain’s voice whatsoever, I can tell he’d be more than happy to sit with a cup of tea or a dram and blether in the old tongue. Uair sam bith a tha u 'dol seachad, trobhad a-staigh (anytime you’re going past, come on in). And once again. There it is!

Bithidh sin gasta ma-tà (that’ll be splendid then). I smile as we back away from the house, still chatting.

Tha fliuch! (It’s wet!) adds Iain, as we stand at the gate getting lightly spat on.

Tha, bha fliuch fad an t-Samhraimh (Yes, it was wet throughout the summer). Bha dona ([It] was bad).

Ó gu dearbh, bha móran uisg ann (oh indeed, there was a lot of water ie rain). Bha sneachd ann cuideachd. (There was snow too). Cha do thiormaich am mòin a bh' agam son an tein gu ceart (The peat I had for the fire didn’t dry out properly). Uisg uisg uisg! (Rain rain rain!).

clàr-siùcair air son nan Gàidheal

Och seamh (oh aye), 's e dìle-bhàit' a bh’ ann o cheann gu ceann na mìos, an July mar a their ead (there was a drowning flood from head to head of the month, in July, as they say). It is not common for dialect speakers to know the months of the Julian calendar, as it was not used until relatively recently. Nise, rud a th' agam an seo (now, the thing I have here), reinn mo bhean beagan clàr-siùcair son na h-uile duin' a chì mi shuas an seo (my wife made a little tablet for everyone I see up here).

Dé a th’ ann? (What is it?)

Tablet.

Ó glé mhath (oh very good).

Tha uamharraidh milis (It’s awfully sweet).

Móran siùcair ann! (Much sugar in it!)

Dìreach (Exactly). Nise, tha mi dol a thogail dealbh bheag dhinn an seo leis an taigh (Now I’m going to lift a small picture of us here with the house). Bheil sin ceart gu leòr? (Is that alright?)

Och tha (oh yes).

Àdhamh Ó Broin agas Iain MacIllEathain ann an Asainte

Innsidh do mo chlann gun do thachair mi air Gáidheal, Iain MacIllEathain (I’ll tell my children that I met a Gael, Iain MacLean), shuas taobh Asainte (up Assynt way). The kids always like to hear that there are other people in other places who speak their language.

Ha-ha, sin agad e! (there you have it!).

And with that, I took my leave, feeling genuinely buoyed up by this encounter, but more sure than ever of what needed done. Seven months later and that feeling has only grown. Both Iains, despite the protestations of Iain #1 to the contrary, were very fluent. Coupled with the vocabulary contained in the Survey of Irish Dialects, this means that the local dialect is absolutely capable of being rescued in the nick of time. All we lack is the will. Or do we? Is there actually someone out there with connections to the place, who has learned enough Gaelic to take the work on, who could become a TOSGAIR for the area and spend a few hours a week learning to speak like the two Iains? Could their tale and that of their language be prevented from its end when inevitably sometime over the next 20-odd years, they are parted from this world? This may seem like a very personal way to speak about two people I barely know, but what choice do I have but to take on this responsibility when very few others will? Don’t tell me that local lore, vocabulary and accent are important and then do bugger-all about it. It’s either worth something, or it’s not. There is no in between.

Asaint nan Loch 's nan Creig

And so I left Assynt feeling that while I had spent barely three hours there, I had got under the turf, down to the peat of it a little. The Land of MacLeod lived yet as it was, but was barely hanging on by the skin of its teeth. I had dug under the myth of Neil the Traitor and I had heard the tongue of his people, who for better or for worse had stuck it out in Assynt ever since, through Clearance, poverty and war. The whole experience had been very moving.

Dair a bhitheas mi 'n Asaint (When I am in Assynt), as Rob Donn MacAoidh (MacKay) put it, Is Leòdach mi (I am a MacLeod). Whatever area I enter, I become one of the people. I never feel like I am an outsider because I value deeply all that every nook and crannie of the Scottish Highlands has to offer and I can’t help but take the demise of its culture as a personal injury. My journey took me back across to Lochinver and I was struck by how rugged the land was, pocketed with wildly uneven lochs and hollows, puntuated vertically by jagged rock and bluff, green and grey and ginger with dying bracken under a film of kissing rain. This land is the physical expression of the language that our Iains speak and when these men cease to speak, the land will fall silent forever, another corner of the Highlands will go dark, its cultural life’s blood will cease to pump through local veins, will reach no more these extremities, withdrawing out to the Isles where it will meet a similar fate in little over 50 years, if we are not very, very, careful and more importantly, indefatigable in our determination to resist.

Monographs, dictionaries, manuals -however good- are but a single cornerstone, not a whole house.

Scholars, academics, researchers -however smart- must be as slaves to the wisdom of our elders.

Dair a bhitheas mi 'n Asaint, is Leòdach mi

To putting the horse back before the cart, in the land of MacLeod and beyond, ur slàinte mhór!

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"Beautiful gripping writing.
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