John C. Messenger 1959-1964: Na Taifeadaí – The Recordings

Deirtear go mbíonn dhá insint ar gach scéal agus dhá insint dhéag ar gach amhrán; cruthaíonn an togra seo fírinne an ráitis sin chuile lá. Pléann blag na míosa seo scéal amháin ar a bhfuil dhá insint éagsúil, muna bhfuil an tríú insint tagtha chun solais ó shin.

Idir 1959 agus 1964, chaith na scoláirí Meiriceánacha John Cowan Messenger agus a bhean Betty Messenger tréimhsí in Inis Oírr ar mhaithe lena gcuid taighde antraipeolaíochta. Mar a rinne go leor de na hantraipeolaithe eile a bhí ag saothrú in Éirinn an t-am céanna – ina measc Hugh Brody, Robin Fox, Alexander J. Humphreys, agus Nancy Scheper-Hughes – dhírigh John agus Betty ar chuile ghné de shaol an oileáin, ó bheatha go bás an duine, tithe, éadaí, bia, obair, ceardaíocht, siamsaíocht, suirí, caidreamh collaí, cúrsaí creidimh, meabhairghalar, srl. I 1969, d’fhoilsigh John leabhar a bhí bunaithe ar a saothar ansiúd, Inis Beag Isle of Ireland, leabhar ina bhfuil cur síos an-leathan ar shaol an oileáin ach go bhfuil ainmneacha na ndaoine agus logainmneacha na háite faoi cheilt. Iarracht ar phríobháideachas an phobail a chosaint a bhí sa cheilt seo, is cinnte, ach bhí cúis eile léi freisin. Tuigeadh dóibh go mba pobal tuathánach a bhí in Inis Oírr agus cheadaigh an tuiscint sin – a bhí coitianta i measc antraipeolaithe na linne – dóibh an t-oileán a shamhlú mar mhicreacosma d’Éireann. Dar leo, Beag-Éireann a bhí in Inis Beag. Ba chuid de chruthú na samhla sin í an cheilt. Bhí ceilt den tsaghas seo coitianta go deimhin, faiseanta fiú, i measc antraipeolaithe na linne, tráth gur chreid roinnt scoláirí gur bhronn cur chuige fuarchúiseach mar é údarás ar an léann. Ba bheag an chosaint a bhí sa cheilt seo, áfach, d’oileán agus do phobal chomh beag le hInis Oírr. Mar a dhéanann gach leabhar, tharraing sí caint. Bhí daoine ann nár aontaigh lena raibh le léamh inti. Sílim go mb’fhiú a admháil anseo gur chuir Árainneach eile fainic orm blianta ó shin, nuair nach raibh mé ach díreach tosnaithe ar mo thaighde ar cheol agus amhráin ar thrí Oileán Árann, gan ainm Messenger a lua in Inis Oírr ar eagla go gcuirfeadh a leithéid de chaint mo shaothar-sa léinn i mbaol.

Indiana University, Archives of Traditional Music: 

John C. Messenger Ireland recordings, 

Galway, Donegal, Mayo and Clare Counties, 1959-64.

Accession number: 71-194-F.

Pé deacracht a bheadh ag daoine áirithe lena saothair, an leabhar ach go háirithe, d’fhág John agus Betty Messenger ábhar an-spéisiúil ina ndiaidh. Is iad a ghlac na grianghrafanna iomadúla atá crochta i dteach ósta Tigh Ned, mar shampla, grianghrafanna a léiríonn mar a briseadh an Plassy, an long atá ar chladaigh thoir an oileáin ó 1960 anuas. Maireann ábhar scannánaíochta ón lá sin freisin, chomh maith le líon mór taifeadaí fuaime a tógadh, ní amháin in Inis Oírr, ach in Inis Meáin, Dúlainn, Toraigh, agus An Pháirc, Co. Mhaigh Eo. Díobh seo, soláthraím thíos ceann díobh: Murchadha an Phosta Ó Donnchadha as Inis Oírr ag rá Bean a' Leanna ar 28 Iúil 1962.

Tabharfaidh an t-ábhar seo – idir grianghrafanna, scannáin, taifeadaí agus scríbhinní – deis do ghlúin úr a breithiúnas féin a thabhairt ar shaol an oileáin san am sin. Gabhaim mo bhuíochas leo seo a leanas a chur an taifead thuas ar fáil dom agus a thug dom a gcaoinchead é a roinnt libh anseo: Marilyn Graf i gCartlanna an Cheoil Thraidisiúnta, Ollscoil Indiana, Bloomington; Robbie Hannan in Ard-Mhúsaem Tuaiscirt Éireann; agus Betty Messenger, atá beo bríomhar go fóill i gColumbus, Ohio.

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There are two sides to every story, but in Ireland, we add to that saying “there are twelve ways to sing a song.” It’s an acknowledgment of the power of each performance to generate discussion, and even disputes, a tip of the hat to confirm the centrality of song in Irish cultural life. Working on this project frequently calls the saying to mind.

Between 1959 and 1964, the American anthropologists John Cowan Messenger and his wife Betty Messenger spent several long periods of time in Inis Oírr. Like many other contemporary anthropologists working in Ireland – including Hugh Brody, Robin Fox, Alexander J. Humphreys, and Nancy Scheper-Hughes – they focused on all aspects of island life from the cradle to the grave, dwellings, clothes, foodways, work, craftsmanship, pastimes, courting, sexual mores, religion, mental illness etc. In 1969, John published a book entitled Inis Beag Isle of Ireland, which gives a correspondingly broad sweep of island life, but which also conceals identities of people and place. Pseudonyms have the potential to protect the innocent, certainly, but the Messengers had other reasons for adopting them. They imagined that the community in Inis Oírr represented a ‘peasant’ culture (in the non-derogatory sense – a typically agrarian, rural, largely non-cosmopolitan and homogenous culture), one that could be interpreted as a microcosm of the greater island of Ireland. Renaming Inis Oírr and its people was a necessary element of their characterization. For the purposes of contemporary anthropology, it also lent a degree of objectivity and, therefore, authority to that practice. Ultimately, the protection that pseudonyms offered to such a small and close-knit community was inadequate. The book caused such controversy that, over thirty years later, just as I was starting out on my research into the musical traditions of Aran, a fellow islander cautioned me to avoid mentioning the name of Messenger in Inis Oírr in case it would jeopardize my own scholarly efforts.

Whatever difficulty some people might have with their enterprise, the book in particular, John and Betty Messenger left us a fascinating body of work including manuscript materials, film, photographs, and recordings, one of which is being published for the very first time, right here: Murchadha an Phosta Ó Donnchadha of Inis Oírr singing Bean a' Leanna on 28 July 1962.

This collection of material will give a new generation the opportunity to draw its own conclusions about life in Inis Oírr in the early 1960s. The recording has been made available here through the kind offices of the following: Marilyn Graf at the Archives of Traditional Music, Indiana University, Bloomington; Robbie Hannan at the National Museum of Northern Ireland; and Betty Messenger, who resides in Columbus, Ohio.

Dán Nollag – Christmas Poem

Ó tharla go bhfuileamar anois idir an dá Nollag, ní miste go soláthrófaí inniu ábhar atá tráthúil go maith. Is iomadh amhrán, dán, agus agallamh beirte a chum an file Maitiú Ó Maoláin (1912-1969) – tugtar Meait Pheaits Rua nó Meait Neainín air freisin – as Eoghanacht, Árainn. Ina measc, tá an dán beag seo, ag guí beannachtaí na féile ar an éisteoir.

For this holiday season, we turn to the work of Maitiú Ó Maoláin (1912-1969) of Eoghanacht, Árainn, who composed many songs, poems, and dialogues. Among them is this short seasonal poem.

Dán Nollag

Tí Mheait Neainín ar an Leic Mhór, Eoghanacht, Árainn c.1950í.
Féach an dá fhuinneog thuas staighre ag breathnú soir.
Pic. Bailiúchán Béaloideas Árann.

I stábla i mBeithil

Mainséar sínte

Bhí leanbh aoibhinn

Cuachta in eadaí bána

Gan teas gan dídean

Ó fhuacht na hoíche ann

Ach anáil caora,

Asal ‘s dámh

Rí na Ríthe

‘Bhí sa mainséar sínte

Muire na hóighe

B’í a mháthair

Beannacht na díse

Ar do theach agus daoine

Nollaig aoibhinn agat

Séan ‘s áthas.

Amen.

Christmas Poem

In a stable in Bethlehem

Lying in a manger

There was a beautiful babe

Bound in white clothes

There without heat without shelter

From the cold of the night

Except for the breathe of a sheep,

An ass and an ox.

It was the King of Kings

That lay in the manger

The Virgin Mary

She was his mother

The blessings of the pair

On your house and people

A delightful Christmas to you

Happiness and joy.

Amen.

Dara Beag Ó Fátharta (7 Iúil 1920–30 Deireadh Fómhair 2012)

“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.”

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“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.”

Pat Pheaidí Ó hIarnáin (1903-1989) & George Pickow (1922-2010)

Don gcéad bhlag seo uaim, thograíos íomhá spéisiúil a d’aimsigh mé i Leabharlann Shéamais Uí Argadáin anseo in OÉ Gaillimh a roinnt libh. Is é an Meiriceánach George Pickow (1922-2010) a ghlac an grianghraf. Léiríonn sé fear as Cill Mhuirbhigh, Pat Pheaidí Ó hIarnáin (1903-1989), ag gabháil amhráin agus a chomharsa Neain Mhaidhc Mhóir Uí Iarnáin (thugtaí Granny Hernon uirthi freisin) ag suí sa chlúid. Shílfeadh duine gur ar a theallach féin atá Pat ag canadh, ach ní mar a shíltear a bítear. Is i dteachín an ‘Man of Aran’ ar an mbaile céanna a glacadh an grianghraf. Níorbh é seo an chéad uair ná an uair dheireanach gur bhain grianghrafadóirí leas as fhuinneog neamhghnách dín an tí úd, fuinneog a scaoil anuas solas geal an lae; b’fhéidir go roinnfead libh grianghrafanna Frances Flaherty (1932-3) agus Haywood Magee (1949) amach anseo.

Bhí George Pickow ar cuairt in Árainn lena bhean, an ceoltóir clúiteach Jean Ritchie as Viper, Kentucky. I 1952, bronnadh comhaltacht Fulbright ar Jean ionas go bhféadfadh sí préamhacha cheol Mheiriceá a fhiosrú ar an taobh seo den Aigéan Atlantach. Agus iad lonnaithe i Londain idir 1952 agus 1953, d’éirigh le Jean agus George cuairteanna a thabhairt ar Éireann agus Albain, agus thaifead siad go leor ceoil. Mo léan, níor thaifead siad in Árainn. Agus mé ar cuairt chucu i Nua Eabhrac i 2001, mhínigh Jean agus George dom gur chuir an easpa aibhléise a bhí in Árainn ag an am cosc ar aon iarracht uathu taifid a chruthú ansin. Mar sin, is luachmhar go deimhin iad na céadta grianghrafanna a ghlac George. Tá roinnt mhaith díobh le feiceáil anois ar shuíomh na leabharlainne: féach Cnuasach Ritchie-Pickow.

Bhí neart amhráin ag Pat Pheaidí, ina measc ‘An Mhíoltóg’ a chum fear eile as Cill Mhuirbhigh, Séamus Ó Caoluighe (c.1793-c.1896), faoi bhád de chuid Shéamuis Uí Fhlaithbhearta: “Thíos i bhPort Mhuirbhigh ‘s ea chuir mé mo bháidín ‘un seoil...”

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For this first blogpost, I’ve chosen to share with you an image I found in the James Hardiman Library here at NUI Galway, an image showing a man from Cill Mhuirbhigh, Pat Pheaidí Hernon (1903-1989), singing a song while his neighbour Neain Mhaidhc Mhóir Hernon sits in the fireplace of the ‘Man of Aran’ cottage. The choice of location was deliberate. The thatched cottage had a skylight that enabled early visiting photographers including Frances Flaherty and Haywood Magee to photograph indoor scenes. The New York photographer George Pickow (1922-2010) was then visiting Aran with his wife, the legendary folksinger Jean Ritchie, who had won a Fulbright fellowship to study the roots of American folk music on this side of the Atlantic. In 1952-3, from their base in London, they visited Ireland and Scotland and recorded a lot of music. Unfortunately, they did not record in Aran. When we shared a pot of tea in Long Island back in 2001, Jean and George explained to me that the lack of mainline electricity in Aran persuaded them not to bother with bringing their reel-to-reel tape recorder with them. The hundreds of photos that George took are, therefore, particularly valuable. Many of them can now be viewed on the library website: see the Ritchie-Pickow Collection, James Hardiman Library, NUI Galway.

Pat Pheaidí had many songs including ‘An Mhíoltóg’ (The Midge) about a boat belonging to Séamus Ó Flaithbhearta. The song was composed by Séamus Ó Caoluighe (c.1793-c.1896) from Cill Mhuirbhigh: “Down in Port Mhuirbhigh is where I launched my little boat...”