“Nuair a thiteann laoch, ardaíonn
sé deannach na mblianta cróga;
Nuair a thiteann laoch, lasann
sé lóchrann inár gcroíthe.”
Sin mar a d’fhág an scríbhneoir Dara Ó Conaola slán ag a
uncail, file aitheanta Inis Meáin Dara Beag Ó Fátharta nó Dara Beag Dara
Pheigín Mhicil Mhichíl Mháire mar a d’aithin sé féin, ar ócáid a shochraide siúd
ar an 3 Samhain seo caite. Rith an dá líne thuas le Dara sna laethannta idir
bás agus adhlacadh Dhara Bhig agus, díreach i ndiaidh dó ceann de dhánta an
fhile a léamh ón altóir, thograigh sé a loinneog a roinnt leis an slua a bhí
cruinnithe. Má nochtaigh an loinneog a thuairim phearsanta ar bhás a fhear
gaoil, nochtaigh a rogha dáin – An Aerstráice
nó Aer Árann mar a thugann roinnt
oileánach air – an imní is mó atá ar phobal Árann inniu: is í sin go gcaillfear
an tseirbhís aeir go trí oileáin Árann go luath mar gheall ar chiorruithe atá á
bheartú ag an rialtas. Tá mé cinnte de, dá n-eireódh leis an bhfile a bheith
beo ar a shochaid fhéin, gurb ionann an rogha a bheadh déanta aigesean.
Duanmholadh ní ba fheiliúnaí ní fhéadfaí a shamhlú, duanmholadh a lean
comhairle an fhir fhéin: “Caithfidh an file breathnú roimhe mar go mairfidh an
chaint.”
Dúinne a chuireann spéis sna hamhráin agus sa bhfilíocht
phobail, nochtann an eachtra seo nithe eile go géar agus go grinn: is iad sin feidhm
na filíochta pobail, feidhm na n-amhrán, feidhm na hamhránaíochta, agus feidhm
an fhile, agus cé chomh beo is atá na feidhmeanna sin go fóill in Árainn agus
in Éirinn. Ina dhán, rinne Dara Beag comóradh ar theacht Aer Árann agus mheabhraigh
don bpobal na hathruithe a bhí rompu de bharr tuirlingt na n-eitleán. Ansin, ar
a shochraid, bhronn mac deirfiúra leis deis air chun cur lena dhán trí fainic a
chur orainne a d’éist faoi scuabadh na n-eitleán céanna. An lá úd i séipéal
Inis Meáin, mhair caint an fhile, agus spreag sí an comhluadar a chaith an lá inné i mbun feachtasaíochta ag tarraingt ar rialtas na tíre i mBaile Átha Cliath
lena n-imní faoin tseirbhís aeir a léiriú agus leis an cás a phlé le
polaiteoirí.
Is léir, mar sin, nárbh aon chur i gcéill an méid a
mhínigh Dara Beag do Sheán Ó
Cualáin: “Inis Meáin m’áit agus mo pharlús.” Is léir go raibh, mar a
tuigeadh do Bhreandán Feirtéar, “cúram a dhúchais air.” Chuidigh an réimse
leathan buanna a bhí aige – a mheabhair, a ionraiceas, a uaisleacht, a
dhea-chaint, a dheaslámhacht, agus a chuid filíochta – chuidigh siad leis a chúram
a chur de; ach, b’í an fhílíocht ach go háirithe a bhronn air an t-ardán a bhí
tuillte aige, ardán gur ghlac sé seilbh iomlán údarásach shnasta air.
“Ar airigh tú
caint ar Aer Árann
Nó an féidir go bhfuil tú gan
treoir?
Ar an turas breá lae aoibhinn
álainn
Go hÁrainn na Naomh is na
seod.
[...]
Nach ansiúd a bhéas an
gliondar is croitheadh láimhe
Roimhe dhaoine a thiocfas
anall.
Ach silfear na deora go fras
ann
I ndiaidh imeacht gan filleadh
go brách.”
*
“When a hero falls, he raises
the dust of the brave years;
When a hero falls, he lights a
blaze in our hearts.”
That is how the writer Dara Ó Conaola bid farewell to his
uncle, the famed poet of Inis Meáin Dara Beag Ó Fátharta or Dara Beag Dara
Pheigín Mhicil Mhichíl Mháire as he himself styled, on the occasion of his
funeral on 3 November last. The lines came to Dara in the days between Dara
Beag’s death and burial and, as he read one of the poet’s compositions from the
altar, he chose to share his refrain with the congregation. If the refrain
revealed his personal response to the death of his relative, his choice of song
– The Airstrip or Aer Árann as it is known to some
islanders – revealed the greatest cause of concern to the local community
today: that is the imminent threat of losing the air service to the three Aran
islands because of budget cuts that are currently being considered by the
government. I am certain that, if the poet had lived to witness his own
funeral, his choice would have been the same. It was the perfect eulogy, one
that followed the man’s own advice: “The poet must look ahead because talk
endures.”
For us who live with songs and with folk poetry, this
episode brings some other aspects into sharp focus: the purpose of the people’s
own poetry, the purpose of songs, of singing, and of the poet, and how vital these
causes are still in Aran and in Ireland. In his poem, Dara Beag commemorated
the creation of Aer Árann and drew the community’s attention to the changes brought
by the arrival of the planes. There, at his funeral, his nephew gave him the
opportunity to add to his poem by warning those of us who listened about the
removal of those same planes. That day in the church in Inis Meáin, the poet’s
talk endured, and it inspired the group who campaigned in Dublin yesterday
to highlight their concern for their air service and to discuss it with
politicians.
Dara Beag was clearly being truly honest with Seán Ó
Cualáin when he said “Inis Meáin is my place and my parlour.” He was, as
Breandán Feirtéar understood, “the custodian of his heritage.” His wide range
of talents – his intelligence, honesty, dignity, eloquence, his skill with his
hands, and his poetic ability – helped him to carry out his duty, but it was
his poetry in particular that gave him the platform he richly deserved, a platform
he duly commanded with absolute authority and artistry.
“Have you heard talk of Aer
Árann
Or can it be that you have
been misguided?
On the fine journey of a
delightful, beautiful day
To Aran of the Saints and the
jewels.
[...]
There will be joy there and
the shaking of hands
Of people who will come
across.
But tears will be shed there
in cascades
In the wake of leaving without
ever returning.”
