Growing up in the Outer Hebrides, Gaelic was just… there.
I never thought anything of it. Everyone around me was bilingual. My parents spoke it, as did my grandparents and every one of our neighbours. Gaelic was a normal part of everyday life, sitting there unobtrusively in the corner like an old piece of furniture.
Like many of my millennial generation – those of us who started school just before Gaelic was a widely availble full-time option, before there was an entire TV channel in the language, before Gaelic music went mainstream – my first language is English. I’m not fluent in Gaelic by any means, but I can get by. As a child I always knew what my elders were saying – especially when they didn’t want my younger brother and I to know what they were talking about!
I was reminded of this recently, when I sat down to interview Gaelic music superstar Julie Fowlis before her concert in Pennsylvania, and was astonished to learn that she was not fluent in Gaelic as a child growing up in North Uist. “Mam was a native speaker, and all her family are, and then my Dad didn’t have Gaelic, so we kind of heard both in the house when we were growing up, and my Granny would always speak to me a lot in Gaelic,” she explained.
“As youngsters we were really guilty of being spoken to by a lot of our older family in Gaelic and we would respond in English. And so you kind of have this understanding of it but then you’re really lazy to speak it.”
That last bit hit home – it described my teenage self to a tee. As I got older, my interest in Gaelic waned. I appreciated Gaelic music, certainly; I picked up the melodeon as a teenager, playing at ceilidhs and appearing on national TV, spending my evenings studiously working out the right notes for a jig or a waltz.
But when it came to the language, I was so enamoured with learning about other cultures that I failed to really appreciate the one right under my nose.
I stopped studying Gaelic in school and replaced it with French. Gaelic was normal, mundane; French felt far more exotic, more useful.
Usefulness is a trait ascribed to maybe a handful of languages. There’s English, of course, but look at any discussion of languages worth learning and you’ll likely see that Chinese is good for business, French is an asset for European diplomacy, Spanish is crucial in the States, and so on.
I loved learning Mandarin when I lived in Tianjin (it was both challenging and rewarding), and I fully support the notion that English speakers should be learning more languages, full stop. But a language is worth more than its market value. Your language is part of your history, both personal and communal. The language you speak is part of who you are, part of where – and who – you come from.
I learned that late, when I returned to the islands after my travels and studies in mainland Scotland, in America, in China. Reconnected to the islands, I made more of an effort, asking my Dad to speak to me more in Gaelic, stopping him when I knew what he was saying, but didn’t quite know which word was which. I learned that I knew more Gaelic than I had realised, but that – like so many Gaels – I can lack the confidence to just put the words out there, even when they might be wrong.
It’s something that even someone as talented as Julie Fowlis could identify with.
Having already completed her undergraduate degree in music, she then attended the Gaelic college on the Isle of Skye, Sabhal Mor Ostaig. “There was myself and another girl from Skye, and there was a girl from Raasay, and we were great friends, and the three of us came from families who were native speaking Gaelic families,” she told me as the notes of fiddle music floated in from the sound check next door.
“And then there were other folk in the class who had no connection to Gaelic at all, and they were so confident, and they would speak out and they would make mistakes and they wouldn’t care and they would just keep going, and the three of us would be terrified to say anything in case it was wrong, not wanting to make a mistake. And I guess that’s how it is for a lot of Gaels, because you respect it so much that you don’t want to do badly by it, you want to do right by it as it were, so it took a lot of confidence to get back to speaking it.”
Now that I live a world away, where the chances of hearing Gaelic here in New York are, give or take, about six million to one (there’s another Rubhach out there in the Big Apple somewhere!) Gaelic has taken on a much more personal significance. It feels precious, important, part of my personal history. And I’m sure for younger learners, it’s simply useful, no strings attached: aren’t we always hearing about the benefits of bi and tri-lingualism?
Maybe absence – and age – does make the heart grow fonder.
Maybe that’s why the Julie Fowlis gig in Pennsyvania made me feel so emotional. To the American audience clapping and cheering and stomping their feet in the Abbey Bar in Harrisburg, this was an evening of spectacular talent and entertainment from a faraway place. To me, it was that and a whole lot more. It was a piece of home. Those words, those tunes – they’re a piece of Hebridean culture, and hearing the songs sung so beautifully, so magically, so far from their origin, was incredibly moving.
I may not be a fluent Gaelic speaker, but it is still a part of who I am, and where I come from. Even here across the Atlantic, there are times when I can still conjure up a Gaelic sentence or two, times when I can still get a glimpse of that old piece of furniture. As an expat, it’s the little things, like an old familiar phrase, that can make all the difference.
____________________
What does your language (or languages) mean to you? How important is it to your culture and way of life?
Let me know in the comments below – I’d love to hear from you!
____________________
So beautifully written and so true. I hate how much of a slating our language gets from time to time in the media. The amount of opportunities I had in school due to being fluent in gaelic was exceptional -debating, sports holidays, drama summer school, film competitions, numerous plays and a short film- gaelic brought me opportunities that English couldn’t and my education and development benefitted I’m sure!
Having moved away from home a few years ago to study, people are constantly telling me how cool it is that I speak another language, and when they hear me speak on the phone in gaelic or I put BBC Alba on, they suddenly begin to appreciate and realise that I have this whole other vocabulary stored away in my brain. And that with that, I can identify with having a strong culture -something they struggle to identify from the places they grew up in.
I hope my children will be as fortunate as me to grow up in a world immersed in the gaelic culture, and that gaelic will regain it’s rightful place in Scotland again! Suas leis a Ghaidhlig haha!
Thanks so much for your comment, Eileen! I’ve had a similar experience when people find out I have (a bit!) of Gaelic – they’re always really interested in the culture and the language. And there are definitely a lot of opportunities out there for Gaelic speakers now too 🙂
Beautiful post Katie! It is so interesting to hear of your experience, growing up in a bilingual community. Growing up in Australia, with ancestors who came over as convicts, the first free settlers or during the Gold Rush at the very latest, I don’t have any other languages in my entire extended family apart from English. I think it’s a beautiful thing to have a language that connects you to home like that, as English is so prevalent around the world, that it’s something you rarely get a chance to miss!
Thanks so much, Genevieve! I do really love having that connection to home, both through the language and the culture, no matter where I am in the world 🙂
This article spoke directly to me. First 6 yrs in Irish Gaelic school. No English allowed. Now living in Canada and am very interested in all things to do with languages that are fighting for survival.
Thanks Liz – I’m so glad to hear you could relate to my post!
And one of the cruellest cuts of colonization has been to strip landscape of indigenous place names. It is a forced divorce of meaning from experience that strikes at the heart of “home”. In Canada, I doubt whether there are any non-indigenous people at all who know, can pronounce or ever think of the old “real” names associated with where they live. Even indigenous people are often forced to forget. The narratives that are prised from awareness in this way, if they are remembered at all, become abstract, portable and ultimately forgettable. Everybody loses.
Katie, I love this post. I am just like you, I no longer am fluent in the Gaelic. There once was a colony here in the Detroit, Michigan area of lots and lots of Lewis people and a lot of nishachs and when they got together the conversations were always in the Gaelic. The fact that these people married and had their children here in the U.S., negated that the children speak Gaelic. I have lots of friends here whose parents were from Lewis, but they have no idea how to speak this language. I was recently contacted by the St. Andrews Society to discuss the Gaelic language at one of their meetings. It was fun although I could only speak some phrases that I remembered. Also, I just recently learned that my cousin, Seonaid Clarke, a wonderful artist in Stornoway, is teaching Gaelic. I was so excited to hear this news. I never did learn to read or write the language; just grew up speaking it.
Thank you so much for your comment, Christine, it’s lovely to hear from you on here! I didn’t realise that there had been such a strong community of Lewis people in Michigan; I love hearing about all the places islanders have ended up over the years. That must have been fun at the St Andrews Society too – I’ve been meaning to look up the New York one for a while!
This post raises so many points but it’s one that I feel very moved to comment upon. I was brought up in a monolingual family but with an awareness of Welsh as a second language. Sow when, 40 years ago, I came to live on Lewis, learning Gaelic was a natural thing to do but something I found difficult. I picked up a great deal more subconsciously than I was aware of consciously. My children spoke Gaelic with some of their friends when they were very young (although they later denied that!). When we tried to insist that they were taught Gaelic at school the request was refused because they didn’t have Gaelic speaking parents “and what good would it do them anyway?”. How things have changed. I realised many years ago that speaking Gaelic as an incomer would never be the same as learning it as a natural second language but nevertheless I feel a certain pang that the poverty of my Gaelic abilities does not enable my mind fully to feel as much a part of this Island and culture as my heart feels.
So whilst you may well be correct that absence makes the heart grow fonder, the fact that you have that awareness is, I would suggest, one of the things that binds you to your roots. I have no roots other than the Island even though I wasn’t born here and I feel the same.
Thank you so much for your comment, Graham! It’s definitely interesting to see how much attitudes have changed towards teaching and learning Gaelic over the years. I think it’s wonderful that you made an effort to learn it (although even I have to admit it is difficult!), and that you feel such a strong connection to it and the island 🙂
Lovely article. So much of what Julie Fowlis says rings with me. So afraid to try and mess it up!
What exactly is the difference between an expat and an immigrant? I guess if you are intending on living there permanently then it should be an immigrant’s view rather than expat.
Thank you, I’m happy to hear you enjoyed it, and that it resonated with you. If you look through the blog archives, you’ll see that I’ve lived in – and travelled to – multiple countries (and will hopefully continue to do so!), which is why I consider myself an expat.
A Chaitrìona chòir, Would you mind awfully if I cited your blog (An Expat’s View of the Importance of Language) in my BA (Gaelic and Development) dissertation?
I would be honoured to have my blog post mentioned in your dissertation! Thank you Seonaidh 🙂
I’m on my 6th language at the moment and until I moved abroad, I hadn’t realised how important my native language, Creole, is to me and to my family. When I go back, I don’t sound like a local anymore, and whenever I’m out, people tend to reply to me in English or French thinking I’m a foreigner. My parents find it funny but it’s kinda weird to be made to feel like a stranger. I only speak it once in one or two weeks when I speak to my parents and even then, I kinda mix it with French and English, even though I’d want to speak it properly. I try though 🙂
Wow, six languages – that’s impressive! That must be strange, to be mistaken for a stranger at home because of your accent. I don’t think my accent has changed much yet, but then again I’ve only been away for a year. At least we both try to speak our local languages 🙂 !
I grew up in the same circumstances (albeit many years before ) of understanding all my parents conversation in Gaelic but replying in English and very much regret my lack of fluency today. However in a trip through the Western Isles this spring it was amazing how much Gaelic I could still comprehend and even managed some conversations. It’s about 50 years since I left Laxdale School eventually settling in California.
I think you may leave the language behind but it never leaves you!
Thanks for your comment, Allan. It’s always great to hear from fellow islanders abroad 🙂 It’s amazing how much of the language you can remember subconsciously. I think you’ve put it perfectly: “You may leave the language behind but it never leaves you!”
This is a very interesting post! I clicked through it on FB because I found it so intriguing – this is a beautiful homage to the Gaelic language. I come from Quebec and fighting to keep our language alive is a massive mission – that not many take seriously enough. I think it’s such a teenage thing to not take things very seriously and then we regret them a little in adulthood, but it’s great that you went back and took it into your own hands. I think the older we get the closer we want to be to our culture and think about what defines us!
Thanks Camila! I’m glad you enjoyed it, and that you could relate to it, coming from Quebec. And I think you’re right – the older we get, the closer we want to be to our culture. I’ve definitely noticed that change since my teenage years!
Gosh, I just stumbled upon this post and It wwas incredible. I`m American, but one side of my family is French Canadian and I just have this almost emotional connection to Quebecois French that I couldnt quite explain. Beautifully written!
Thank you so much for your kind words, Nathalie! It’s always nice to hear from people who understand that connection too 🙂