Ireland and Met an Irish Girl

Ireland and Met an Irish Girl

Interloper Girls with Fanny, Peter, Peggy, Anne, Ruth, Pat and Scott

August 26, 2007

Siobhan (pronounced something like “Shaban)” was perched on the horse cart with her brother Micheal Joe Dhonncha, her cousin Jason and her dad when we arrived on the ferry.  My wife,  three sisters, sister-in-law and two brothers had just arrived at Inisheer Island after a 30-minute ferry ride across the choppy emerald waters of Western Ireland.  We had read that this island had retained its rustic charm because its inhabitants continue to live the old ways.  The only way to get about the island was by walking, biking or horse cart.   We made a deal with Siobhan’s dad, paid 10 euros each and climbed aboard his horse-drawn wagon for a one-hour ride.  We found that the island was not quite as primitive as had been advertised.  The roads of the village were paved, a few autos could be seen and an electric cable now provides electric light to the Island homes.  An airport was even available for small planes and construction was underway for a new medical center.  Tourism was apparently modernizing the little island.

Siobhan Dhonncha

 

However, the essential charm of this rocky, treeless island was obvious.  The island land had been divided among the families by tall rock fences, often with narrow lanes between two of these fences.  Obviously, one of the major occupations of the original inhabitants had been prying the rocks out of the fields and building fences with them.  Sand was hauled from the beach, spread over the rocks and mixed with seaweed for fertilizer so that potatoes, pasture, and other crops could be grown. 

Inisheer Homes and Fences

 

Jimmy, our old horse, was lazy and sometimes refused to pull the wagon filled with 12 humans up the steeper hills.  Consequently, it was necessary for most of us to disembark and walk up the hills.  Jimmy, would also balk when coming downhill.  Siobhan’s dad encouraged him with a short whip that the little horse watched carefully to see if his master was serious about its application.  Most of the encouragement was verbal, but if Jimmy’s bad behavior continued, the whip would be felt and Jimmy would respond with only as much effort as was necessary to stop the whip. 

Jimmy and his Wagon Load

 

Apparently, Siobhan was learning how to be a tour guide from her father and would go into long explanations of the scenery we were passing.  Her brother, cousin, and father often joined in – sometimes all at the same time, so that it was often impossible to understand any of them.  She explained that school was starting next week to the dismay of her brother.  Although she spoke in a voice that was almost too soft to hear, her English was good.  Her father, who had grown up on the island, spoke only Irish (Gaelic) as a child but found it necessary to learn some English to accommodate the tourists.

We made several stops to give Jimmy a rest and for us to see the sights such as the old shipwreck that sat high on the rocks, where some terrible storm had deposited her in years past.  Siobhan gave us many of the details of the wreck, but her small, lyrical voice could not be heard by my deaf old ears.  But I caught enough of the details for my satisfaction and chose not to interrupt her narrative.

When the tour was completed, we were deposited at the town tea shop where we were met by a lady who spoke such clear English that we were skeptical that she was an island native.  It turned out that on a trip to this island, her daughter had fallen in love with one of the native boys and they were married.  Now, both the girl and the mother live on the island most of the year but commute back to their home in Wisconsin from time to time.  Property on this island can be bought only by families whose ancestry can be traced to the fathers of the island.  And, to live on this island, one must learn to speak Irish.  Anyway, we had our tea, coffee, and sandwiches in the warm sunshine on the tables of the tea house and learned about the life on the island from Wisconsinites.

Peggy, Ruth, Wisconite, Anne and Fanny

 

Siobhan, arrived from somewhere and I asked if I could take her picture.  She looked at me shyly and obviously needed some encouragement.  So, I told her that she might someday be a famous movie star and I wished to have a photo of her.  She did not immediately agree so I thought my offer had been refused.  But then a few minutes later, she came up to me and said, “OK.”  I took her photo, showed it to her and she seemed happy – although she seldom smiled.  When I called her the “Island Princess” she looked dismayed, so I thought I had hurt her feelings.  But, as we were leaving, she came up to me and in her palm was a ring with a purple stone.  She said, “This is for you.”  

“Does this mean we are engaged?” I asked.

Her answer was a timid smile.

Anyway, if in another 10 years of so, you see a beautiful young lady with blond tresses adorning the screen in a movie starring “Siobhan Dhonncha” please let me know so I can dig out this photo and say, “I knew her when she was only 10 and lived on an Inisheer Island.”

 

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