NEWS FROM IRELAND

FINTAN MacBOCHRA: THE FABULOUS SHAPE-SHIFTER!
pronounciation:
Fintan MacBochra is 'fin-tin mack-bow-chra'
Cesair is 'sesser'

In the legends of old Irish mythology Fintan MacBochra was renowned as being the first man in Ireland.

He travelled with the granddaughter of Noah, named Cesair, who escaped at the time of the great flood. Cesair had been refused entry onto the Ark by her grandfather and so decided to create three Arks of her own to escape the impending deluge.

When Cesair was but ten years old her foster father, a priest in Egypt, told her to gather together a group and set out in order to escape the flood that was to soon follow. She built a fleet of three ships which she populated with as many capable women as she could find, each of whom possessed a different skill. When her own father Bith was refused entry onto the Ark, along with Fintan MacBochra and Ladra, Cesair offered to bring these three men to safety as long as they acknowledged her leadership!

They set sail for the land of destiny known as 'Inis Fail', meaning Ireland. They hoped that since Ireland was as yet unpopulated by any man that no sin could have ever been committed there, and so that place would be safe from the flood sent to cleanse the world of all evil.

Their incredible journey was very perilous and took seven years but finally they arrived in Ireland. It was the year 2361 BC according to 'The Annals of the Four Masters', but only one ship had survived the epic journey, this containing fifty women and three men. Among the survivors was Fintan MacBochra.

They decided to divide the women into three groups, each group to take one of the men to populate this new land. They also divided up the sheep they had brought with them (the first sheep to come to Ireland). Cesair allocated herself to Fintan's group. Banba, a great warrior woman, was the leader of Ladra's group.

This was a fantastic burden that had been placed onto these beleaguered men!

And when both of his male companions died it was left to Fintan to populate the new island alone, with the fifty women for he was now responsible. Faced with such a huge task he did what could be expected. He fled!

Fintan traveled deep into the Irish forests and hid out in a mountain cave in Tul Tuinne, near the River Shannon in Tipperary. When the flood eventually struck he took the form of a salmon fish, and then a hawk, surviving in Ireland for over five thousand years.

Cesair was broken-hearted at having been abandoned by her great love and died shortly afterwards. As for the remaining women they were all washed away in the flood, all apart from Banba. Legend recalls that Banba and Fintan, the only two to survive, later gave existence to the mysterious and supernatural Formorians.

By this time Fintan had developed the gift of 'shape-shifting' and was easily able to transform from one creature to the next. It is said that he gained much of his wisdom by being able to communicate with animals, and especially by taking their physical form.

Fintan means 'the wise' and Bochra means 'the sea', so the connection that Fintan had with the great oceans is paramount, and he may have even been a son of the seas.

Such was his longevity that he observed much of the history and events of old Ireland unfold before him. He thus became very knowledgeable of the ways of mankind. He was a bard of the ages, a sage, a seer, a person of magnificent knowledge and wisdom.

He advised the Kings of Ireland. He helped the Firbolg King Eochaid Mac Eirc when the Tuatha de Dannan attacked and also fought in the first battle of Moytura.

It was not until the advent of Saint Patrick and Christianity in Ireland that Fintan departed this mortal realm.

Fintan MacBochra: the shape-shifting first man of Ireland!

You can read more Fabulous stories of Mythical Ireland here.

A GRAN’ BIG GERRUL FROM THE COUNTY CLARE
by Tom Kelly
I reach for the phone on my desk, and get it just before the answering machine kicks in.
'Hello, hello!'
'Is that yourself, Tammy? Ah, good, good man, yourself! Aye, it's Brendan here, ye know.'
'Oh, good to hear you, Brendan. Always! How's life?'

'Ah, shur you know yourself, Vit, just them usual aul bachelor afflictions, is aal.'
'Oh, and what would they be, please, Brendan?'
'Ah, just 'd'anxiety and the depression,’ as they do caal ' em, ye know - otherwise known as the loneliness and self-pity, as I do caal them meself.'
'Oh.'
'Ah, shur, it’s better now, so it is, but I may tell you in person when you do get here yourself, Tammy. I was just wond’rin’ what kinda time ye might be here to do that TB test on the coos for me today, at aal?'
'Oh, hopefully between about six and seven this evening, Brendan. But I’ll give you a call when I’m near you, okay?'

It was always a pleasure testing Brendan’s big, quiet cows in his roomy cow byre.

'Hauld on, Tammy, til I get a hault o’ that baste for ye! Don’t you be goin’ near that great dangersome baste on your own, Mon!'

I had learned to stand back and wait. Other farmers would thrust a metal nose tongs or their fists into a cow’s nose, thumb in the left nostril, fingers in the right. Brendan, who was stronger and gentler than any farmer I knew, would go and hug each cow around the neck. I’d then clip, measure and inject the tuberculins into her neck on the other side from him.

'You were going to tell me about those bachelor afflictions of yours, Brendan?'
'Ah, 'd’anxiety and depression,’ a.k.a. the loneliness and self-pity?'
'Yes. You haven't come across any cures for them, yet, have you?'
'Waal, I have tried luckin’ in various bottles, ye know, in lots o' various different bottles, be wan Mr. Jameson and the likes, but I found that me cures turned out to be worse than me disayses, ye know, and I daresay the very same would go for them doctor's pills an' potions, from aal I do hear...'

'I think you're probably dead right there, Brendan...'
'Aye. Indeed, I do take care not to mention ''d'anxiety or depression” whenever I do darken the dooor o' one o’ them doctor's clinics...'
'Oh, and have you been there lately, Brendan?'

'Arrah, a few year ago, I was there, and they gave me some free samples they had a’ some anti-inflammatory thing for my arthritis, in me hands, but, shur, it only upset me stomach on me, and it didn't do much for me hands, in any case, and so I soon gave it up.
And then last month, on a Saturday marnin’, when I was feelin' more down on it than usual, I went along there again, so I did. And, ah, the doctor, he was a fine young man, so he was, a terrible nice young man, and aal, and he thought there might be a bit of a problem with my blood pressure.

And, there was this fine big nurse he has there, oh, a fine, a gran’ big gerrul from the County Clare, and she fitted me with this monitor contraption on my left arum there, and she said they’d lave it on for a week and to come back the following Saturday and they’d see what it said, what it tault them me blood pressure was doin’ durin’ the week.

So I said that was awright, but, shur, I didn’t know what I was after lettin’ meself in for, for that contraption, Tammy, it was the annoyinsomest thing that ever was, so it was!

And so I went back the following Saturday, and I tell you, I could hardly wait for them to get it offa me, for that thing, honest to God, it was drivin’ me crackers, for an’ it goin’ off like a swarrum o’ bees every now and then when I was the least expectin’ it, and at the annoyingsomest times possible.

So the nurse, she unstraps the thing from me, and she hooks it up to a printer, and she prints out this page and she takes it off into the doctor, and, when she comes out again, she tells me I’ve nothin’ to worry about, an’ the doctor he says I have no need for any medication, and she haulds up the page for me, so she does, and she shows me the trace a’ the graph on it, and she says:
'Brendan,’ she says,
''you see that spike there at the start? Well, that’s when you came in last Saturday and we fitted it on you. And then it’s pretty okay all week long, you see, and then, you see, there’s this other spike at the end, when you came back in here this morning, right before we took it off you again? We put that down to what they call White Coat Syndrome, again, you know…’

'So, do ya mane to tell me, Nurse,’ says I, ''Do ya mane to tell me that, so long as I stay well clear a’ this clinic a’ yours, I should be awright?!’
And she looks me in the eye, to see was I tryin’ to be insultin’, I suppose, which I most certainly was not, Tammy, and she musta seen that, for she roars out loud laughin’ out loud so she does, and then, an’, when she’s after recoverin’ a bit, she says,
'Brendan, Brendan, you don’t mind if I tell the doctor what you just said, do you?'
'Ah, you go right ahead, Nurse, so long as you make it clear there was no disrespect intended, please!’ I tault her.
And she gives me this great big wink, so she does, Tammy!

Oh, but she was a fine woman, so she was! A fine, a gran’ big gerrul from the County Clare ...and, do ye know this, I have not been feelin’ near as bad on it ever since, Tammy...'

BRENDAN'S PLASTIC CURE
by Tom Kelly
When Brendan, then a new client of mine, heard from his neighbors that I had vaccinated their cows against scour/diarrhea with a vaccine against E. coli, rotavirus and coronavirus, he asked me if this might help prevent the scouring he got in his calves, too.

I told him I thought not, as his scours all seemed only to affect older calves, and were most likely to be caused by coccidiosis. Improving the cow byre hygiene and reducing any stresses to the calves seemed more appropriate, I suggested, particularly as not only was the vaccine expensive, but each cow needed two shots.

I went on to explain that coccidia were really fascinating in two ways. One was that they were the only organism known to be capable of infecting (or re-infecting) an animal from its own feces, and, two, while they multiplied faster (outside the calves, that is) in environments that were wetter and warmer, the animal’s own resistance to them tended to vary greatly depending on the level of stress that animal was under, and cold stress, chilling, in particular, seemed to lower a calf’s immunity to coccidiosis markedly.

Brendan felt that, if it would do the cows and calves no harm, he would like to go ahead and have them vaccinated anyway, just in case. Feeling that old familiar feeling that I had again failed to communicate the necessary information and understanding to a client, I agreed to call by and vaccinate each cow in turn, once about six weeks before and then again around the day of calving, I think it was, omitting any visit fees or mark-up - in other words, for the cost of the vaccine.

This meant that Brendan and I saw a lot more of one another than previously, which was nice, as we seemed to hit it off well from the get-go.

Time went by, and one day Brendan takes off his cap and scratches his head, obviously thinking hard.

'Mister Kelly, you may laugh at me now, an uneducated man like myself and the notions I do get, and you bein’ a highly educated man and aal, but I will ask you just the same, if you don’t mind? You tault me yourself, if I rightly recaall, that as far as that scouring was concerned in them calves of mine, there could be an element of stress inwolved? Would that be correct or am I a-misrepresentin' you entirely? And if so, a’ coorse, I do apologize.'

'No, no, Brendan, you're absolutely right...'

'Well, then Mister Kelly - Tom - in relation to stress an aal, I did notice that when I do come into the byre and turn on the light, them wee calves of mine, they do go complately bonkers and berzerk on me, so they do...and I got to wonderin' was it something to do with when I would turn on the lights of a sudden, so I did. You do know yourself that that byre of mine is nearly complately dark, with just them two wee high-up windows in it, and, when I do turn on the switch and the lights do come on, them calves, they do start a-dancin' and a-prancin' around the place on me like nobody's business, so they do!'

Brendan’s calves were tied around their necks with steel chains attached to stanchions running along one wall of the long, narrow, dark shed.

'…and so finally I figured that 'twas their own shadows that was upsettin' the poor chrathurs. The lights bein' behind them, as you know, they do see the shadows of their ears atwitchin’ at first, I reckon. When that scares them, they do dance around all the more so, and, shur, don't the shadows do the same - and scare them even more?!

So I went and I cut up some of them fertilizer bags and I put pieces of the plastic up to shade the lights a bit on the sides the calves is on and, d'you know this, Mister Kelly, it seems an awful lot more peaceful in there now whenever I do turn on the lights anymore. An' a coorse I could be mistaken, Mister Kelly, but I haven't noticed so much as awan of 'em scourin' since, aedhur...'

DERMOT MACMURROUGH, STRONGBOW, & THE INVASION OF IRELAND'
Dermot MacMurrough was the King of Leinster during the twelfth century and is most remembered as the man who invited the English into Ireland.

He was born circa 1110 and succeeded to the throne of his father, Enna, in 1126. He was a ruthless leader and demonstrated the ferocity of the times by killing or blinding 17 rivals in 1141. He became involved in a dispute with the King of Breffney, Tiernan O'Ruark, whose wife he kidnapped in 1153. O'Ruark formed an alliance with Rory O'Connor who was the recognised High King of Ireland at the time. In 1166 this long-running and bitter feud resulted in MacMurrough being driven into exile by the Gaelic Chieftains. He fled to France.

Dermot MacMurrough was a deeply ambitious man who refused to accept his exile. He made his way to the Court of Henry II of England and offered to become a vassal to the King in return for military aid in retaking his kingdom. The king did not directly provide assistance but allowed MacMurrough to petition the Anglo-Norman lords. It was at this time that the Earl of Pembroke, Richard de Clare, later known as 'Strongbow', agreed to lead an army to Ireland. MacMurrough brought an advance party of adventurers back to Ireland in 1167, recaptured Wexford, and waited for Strongbow to arrive.

From his base in Wales Strongbow launched an offensive in 1170, capturing Waterford and Dublin, taking control of the East coast, much to the dismay of the Gaelic Chieftains and O'Connor. To cement the alliance, MacMurrough married his daughter Aoife to Strongbow, in Christchurch Cathedral in Dublin 1170.

The Irish Chieftains did not allow the invaders to settle however and they were continually attacked and harassed. At one stage it seemed likely that they would be driven from the country if it were not for the support given by Henry II, who had become concerned with the amount of power and influence that Strongbow was amassing across the Irish sea. It is speculated that Henry II feared that Ireland might be used as a base by the Saxons to launch an offensive back into England in the wake of their defeat at Hastings in 1066. The subsequent domination of South Wales by the Normans was a result of the need to keep supply lines into Eastern Ireland open.

Dermot MacMurrough died in 1171 leaving Strongbow to declare himself King of Leinster. His later support for Henry II in France led to his being named Governor of Ireland. He died in 1176 suffering an infection during a raid by Irish rebels.

Much of Ireland was still under local influence and it only was the East coast, known as 'the Pale', that remained in Norman control. Henry granted these lands to his son 'Jean Sans-terre' (or John Lackland) in 1185 creating the 'Lordship of Ireland'. It seemed likely that Ireland would remain a minor Kingdom except that fate intervened. The death of his elder brothers allowed Jean Sans-terre to succeed to the English throne, becoming King John of England and the Pale becoming part of English dominated territories.

Demot MacMurrough has for centuries been blamed as the man who caused, or at least facilitated the invasion and subsequent subjugation of Ireland by outsiders. Recent revision of this history however, have been less critical of his actions.

It is likely that the island would have eventually been dominated by its larger neighbour even without Dermot MacMurroughs prompting. The unwillingness of the Gaelic Chiefs to form a Kingship with defined rights of succession certainly made invasion and domination easier. It was also not uncommon of the times for Gaelic Chiefs to seek help from foreigners in combatting their local enemies.

Despite this more generous interpretation of his actions, it will always be Dermot MacMurroughs lust for power, bringing the English into Ireland, for which he will be most remembered.

YOU NEVER KNOW
by Neil Noble
I met a man, from Ireland, some time ago. He was touring the sights in and around Baltimore and Washington.

He struck up a conversation when he stopped in at one of my local watering holes in D.C. 'Sightseeing is a 'tirsty' business' was his first comment. Recognizing his accent, I told him of my many trips to Ireland and how much I enjoyed myself. He left a short time later to reboard his tour bus, but we did keep in touch through the internet. Not long ago, when I happened to be back across the pond, we met for dinner.

During the course of our conversation, he mentioned to me the long and troubling history of people disappearing, never to be seen nor heard from again. We discussed, for some time, over several drinks, whether or not this was related to criminal activity, self-induced, or simply bad luck.

The first two are pretty much self-explanatory. The third, well, I have my own theory about that. I spoke my piece and while I don't think my friend was totally convinced, he did not dismiss it entirely. He is Irish, after all. Here's the thing.

When one insults or otherwise harms, whether intentionally or not, one of the 'little people', one never knows what the end result might be. They are a suspicious lot and do try to avoid our kind as much as possible. On occasion, however, our paths happen to cross. We did agree on that.

The first time my wife and I visited Ireland, some 20 plus years ago, we took a bus tour. One of the stops was at Blarney Castle. Yes, we did the tourist thing and kissed the Blarney Stone. After doing so, we asked and were directed to the local pub. We were the only patrons, I thought. We ordered, received our drinks and chatted about the castle. She told me how scared she was to be on her back, 85 feet above the ground, so as to kiss the stone. There is a steel grate to catch those who feint. There is also a man holding tight to one's ankles. Yes, one is totally and completely open to the elements. I was surprised when I happened to turn to look out a window at the castle, and there, beside me, stood a smallish, older gentleman with snow white hair. He had long sideburns but no beard. His skin was wrinkled, and his fingers gnarled as he leaned on his shillelagh (walking cane). Recognizing our American accents, he asked, 'Is this your first trip here?'

'Yes it is' we replied in unison.

His accent was thick but quite understandable and he was well dressed in his tweed three-piece suit. I did also notice a four-leaf clover in his lapel. 'Why do you wear a clover instead of a flower in the buttonhole?” He ignored my question.

'May I sit with you folks a spell?'

We said, 'Yes, and may I buy you a drink?'

'Thank you kindly.'

He regaled us with some of the lore of the area for nearly an hour. He told us more about the history of the Castle and it's famous stone. He was mesmerizing. Eventually, our bus driver called out, “We'll be leaving in a few minutes.' It was only then it occurred to me he was relating these stories in the first person.

As we got up, I held out my hand for a shake. His answer was curious. “I cannot for I want no harm to come to you, but I do wish you well and safe home.'

'Well, thank you for the company and stories. And good health and long life to you.' He smiled almost to the point of laughing. We walked out of the pub and right there, at the door sill, was a ten pound note. I picked it up and stepped back inside but I only saw the barmaid.

I asked the lady, 'Where did the old gentleman go.'

She responded, 'Who?'

'We were just in here talking to an older gentleman. I bought a drink for him. Where did he go?'

'Sorry, Sir. You and your Mrs. were the only two in here most of this afternoon. And you only bought the two drinks.' I stared at her and around the empty room, tipped my hat, and left for the bus.

When we boarded the bus, we retold the story. Both the driver and tour guide began laughing. When they calmed down, one said, 'They almost never speak to outsiders. You must have been most kind to him.' The tour guide, then described the old man to a tee.

It took more than a few minutes for the realization to sink in as to what we had just witnessed and actually been part of. “What, in blazes, are you going on about? Are you saying what I think you're saying? Was that old man…?

'Yes, I believe so,' said the driver 'It doesn't happen often but it's not uncommon. The two of us will have a good laugh at your expense, with our mates, at our own pub, when we retell your story.'

So it always pays to be nice. You never know.

GAELIC PHRASES OF THE MONTH

PHRASE:	an Samhradh, an Fhómhair, an Geimhreadh, an tEarrach
PRONOUNCED:	on sow-reh, on foe-irr, an gevh-reh, at tarr-ack
MEANING:	Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring
PHRASE:	Tá sé gaofar / fliuch / fuar
PRONOUNCED:	taw shay gway-fir / fluck / foor
MEANING:	It is windy / wet / cold
PHRASE:	Tá an aimsir galánta / go dona
PRONOUNCED:	taw on i-imm-shur goll-on-tah / guh dawn-ah
MEANING:	The weather is beautiful / awful

View the Archive of Irish Phrases here:
http://www.ireland-information.com/irishphrases.htm

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