Tír gan teanga, tír gan anam – A country without a language is a country without a soul
Landing in Dublin Airport, one immediately sees signs as Gaeilge (in Irish), yet it is unlikely that they hear the language spoken. Although one of the national languages of the country is Irish, or Gaeilge, fewer than 2% of the population speak it daily.
The language, carried through a tumultuous history to the present, is less-spoken due to factors of colonization such as education, famine, and penal statutes. Even now that Gaeilge is mandated to be taught in schools and many children attend Irish-speaking programs, it has yet to reclaim its crown as the majority spoken language.
Irish is one of the oldest vernacular languages in Europe, with its roots in Ireland tracing back to the Celts’ arrival over two thousand years ago. Despite thriving throughout the ancient and medieval periods, the language experienced a sharp decline from then to now. For over seven hundred years, Ireland was subjugated to rule by Britain, which suppressed Irish language and culture as a means of maintaining power. Yet the Irish spirit cannot be overrun.
Driving out to the bristling and beautiful West Coast of Ireland, busloads of children from across the Irish counties, as well as myself, were privy to an exceptionally sunny day upon our arrival. The Gaeltacht are areas of Ireland where Gaeilge is the primary language. The buses offload children into family dwellings for a few weeks to dedicate themselves to the study of Irish and Irish culture.
I’d been studying the language for three years, and I wanted to be able to use it outside my own home. Hearing of my mom’s summers at the Gaeltacht, I was motivated to experience it myself.
“Stay quiet, listen but do not speak,” were the words of wisdom from my mom before she sent me off for three weeks. When she had gone to the Gaeltacht as a child, speaking English even once could get you sent home. I knew I was in for a challenge.
Is fearr gaeilge briste ná béarla cliste – Broken Irish is better than skillful English
The rolling hills, with their quilted rock fencing standing merely by the grace of Dia (God), and their inhabitants, sparse but animated bó (cows), caora (sheep), and asal (donkeys) became the familiar backdrop for the next three weeks. I quickly fell into a solid schedule of am ranganna, am spoirt, and am céilí (class time, sport time, and nightly themed dances) with exceedingly full meals between each.
Running and subsequently slipping down the hallway in our house, Teach 33 (House 33), I still had to wash the dishes, take a shower, and get ready for the céilí. Our Cúntóir stepped in and out of the rooms, always 7-10 girls shooing her away when she was in front of the mirror, as she counted down the minutes until Matt’s arrival.
Matt, the sweet old man who drove us to and from the school each day, steered madly down the winding roads. At the end of the first week, my teach was able to map out all of the bumps in the road that would send us flying in the air. The back of the bus was best for this flight and we always tried to fit as many people in the back row. Though at first it was just out of boredom, I’d like to believe that over time it became more about our freedom away from everything we’d known before.
The bus’s vintage eighties upholstery, still shining neon through years of graffiti, was our chariot to the céilí dance. The dance itself was as unchanged as the bus, the same songs and choreography being used for generations.
Two hours passed by fast through dances such as The Walls of Limerick or The Humours of Bandon, and the chilling air was a relief as we waited for the buses. Oftentimes our Cúntóir let us cross the road to the siopa (shop), so that we could buy a snack while we waited. Everyone who wanted would line up at the gates of the school, antsy while waiting for the go signal from the Cúntóir, before dashing across the road and trying to get there first. The bright neon colors of the Hi-Vis jackets we wore contrasted the darkness of the countryside nights.
Next morning’s classes, which we had six days a week, were teaching the language using Gaeilge. Daltaí (students) like myself were left trying to decipher phonetics and pronunciations, falling behind quickly. Despite this, I found the topics fun, and reading through notes with my housemates after class, we talked about everything from old Irish mythology to modern television. Teachers were always trying new ways to engage with students, making the language vibrant and contemporary through their care.
Our rotation of three teachers were charged with instructing us on grammar, vocabulary, and cultural history. The Gaeltacht, although most obviously teaching language, also engages in connecting that language with the culture and traditions of Ireland that were diminishing after colonization. “I think the community is completely different in Galway than it is in Dublin; it’s much more connected and appreciative,” said Helen Blakey, a student at the Gaeltacht, of the advantages of attending.
Tús maith is leath na hoibre – A good start is half the work
Despite barely scraping by in classes, feeling like one of the newborn gamhna (calves) that lived in pastures nearby, I began to see the effects of my efforts. On days out, we went to places such as an trá (the beach) and an meal siopadóireachta (the shopping mall), and I could see the improvement in my speaking and comprehension abilities.
I no longer felt trapped in my head, I could communicate and feel understood. Although at times my mouth didn’t feel like my own as I spewed words that weren’t yet snug in my brain, the language felt more at home with me than ever before. I was in a space where my curiosity and longing for understanding were reciprocated. I found people with the same interests as me who exposed me to an entirely new perception of what Irish could be.
These trips showed me a deeper understanding of Irish culture than I had experienced before. My fellow students were not afraid to make their opinions heard, and we had many ‘protests’ over wanting to go to an trá níos minic (more often), what céilí themes should be, and even the validity of the decision to send a student home.
During my time at the Gaeltacht, a tine portach (bog fire) spread far and burned for days, smoke continually rising and a sour smell left most daltaí inside for am spoirt. Sometimes purposeful to renew the soil, often difficult to control, the flames extended in a ring of fire and left scorched earth in its wake. But the students were more intrigued than worried, as the fire spread so did their curiosity for Irish.
Bíonn siúlach scéalach – A traveller has many stories
The slick feeling of grease coated my mouth and tongue as I wolfed down a flaming hot bowl of bolognese pasta. It had been a long day. I had learned the genetive case in school and needed to cleanse myself of the words stuck in my throat, still needing to be translated. I couldn’t retreat to my bed as my dreams had started occurring in Irish as well, and on top of that, I still had am spoirt and am céilí to attend.
Looking around the table, however, I could see and hear the loving conversations of the girls in my teach. We lifted each other up through the days; despite only just meeting these 10 girls, I considered them my closest support.
When a student didn’t receive a letter that week from home, someone was always willing to share their Milka bar or the laughs they received in their own stories from home. Bracelet making and song competitions and sharing everything swirled past us, differences between each student’s Irish abilities or which GAA team they supported melted away.
The Gaeltacht may have been initially characterized by the intense, cascading quiet felt at night or the few cars that drove past, but that isn’t what it or the language became. I know that our teach as well as the others dotted along Matt’s bus route were alight with warm laughter as Gaeilge was pouring and dynamically joining the future in our mouths.
Leagfaidh tua bheag crann mór – A small axe can fell a large tree
As any language, Gaeilge heavily relies on community to continue being spoken. A blooming renaissance is taking shape throughout the country, for appreciation of the language and culture it supports. Modern technology has allowed learning Irish to become easier than ever before, and popular culture has dawned a more appreciative attitude in terms of using the language.
A catalyst for change, the media has increasingly centered the Irish language in its conveyance. TV and radio channels such as TG4 and Raidío na Gaeltachta have carved out spaces dedicated to, not only preserving, but integrating Gaeilge into everyday life.
Recent film and music have used Irish as their preferred means of communication, rather than as a secondary outlet. An Cailín Ciúin (2022) redefined the importance of Irish in community building and family, gaining numerous recognitions for its impact. Even across genres, Kneecap (2024), which discusses the forming of an Irish rap hip-hop group in Belfast, is riding high with a BAFTA award among many others.
The story of Kneecap is partially true, based on the band of the same name who have created a scene for themselves and encouraged others to join. At the same time, Irish singers and bands are starting to incorporate Irish into songs that are enjoyed internationally; Hozier, Fontaines D.C., and the late Sinead O’Connor are some of those singers. Normalizing the use of Gaeilge in pop culture can lead to increased usage within the country.
Still, many believe that one of the largest oppositions to learning Irish actually stems from the institutions that are trying to protect it. Scrúdú na hArdteist (the Leaving Cert Examination), is a collection of mandatory tests that Irish students must pass in order to graduate secondary school and get into university. One of these is in the Irish language; the stress of this test has greatly shaped the approach taken in schools when it comes to learning the language. “It’s not about knowing the language or about the culture and roots of the language, it’s just a memory test,” said Blakey about the exam, adding that, “going to the Gaeltacht actually allows you to get into the roots of the language.”
Passing through the airport after my summer at the Gaeltacht, I make sure to say “slán go foill” (bye for now) to my aunt. I hope that everyone gets the opportunity to connect with Irish as I did. The walk to my gate is loud, but I can still make out the announcements as Gaeilge. This time they don’t hit a dead end at my ear. Instead, they are a welcome and new familiarity.
Irish is one of the oldest vernacular languages in Europe, with its roots in Ireland tracing back to the Celts’ arrival over two thousand years ago. Despite thriving throughout the ancient and medieval periods, the language experienced a sharp decline from then to now. For over seven hundred years, Ireland was subjugated to rule by Britain, which suppressed Irish language and culture as a means of maintaining power. Yet the Irish spirit cannot be overrun.