Divided We Fall

Whether it is the Daily Fail spewing its hateful diatribe and labelling it as news, or a misty-eyed romantic overlooking inconvenient facts that get in the way of their interpretation of a historical event, there will always be bias and one-sidedness when it comes to any kind of reporting of fact.

Right now my studies are plunging me into the fascinating history of Scotland and of the Gaelic Language and Culture. It's interesting to know a few facts about what has happened, and also more than a little depressing to see that, over the past few hundred years or so, the people who have mistreated the Scottish people the most have mainly been their fellow countrymen. The English are of course 'The Auld Enemy' despite the good ones (we'll ignore those), and the French are 'The Auld Alliance' as long as we gloss over the bits when the bad guys - 'The Auld Enemy' - were called upon to help rid Scotland of the French regent and stop all these pesky French blokes being appointed to high office. But as I say, we'll move on from such inconvenient facts to the present day.

Most people who know of Scottish Gaelic have also heard of 'Outlander', a series of fictional books dramatised for the screen by an American production company. As part of 'Outlander' is set in 18th Century Scotland, Gaelic is spoken. This has proved to be a massive boon for the Gaelic language, which is doing its very best to ride that wave and promote awareness.

One of the great challenges to face in the light of Outlander is to convince the curious that Gaelic is still very much a modern, living, breathing language. Many references to Gaelic link it to the past, as if it only serves a purpose in the interpretation of history and doesn't offer much for today or tomorrow.

It is not just the raising of Gaelic awareness and the demonstration that Gaelic is very much a living language today that are the battles many people fight on an almost daily basis.

One of the reasons I keep this blog is promote tolerance and understanding between those of us learning Gaelic, and those who speak it 'bho thùs' (native speakers). Us learners need to understand that, for many reasons and in many cases, you can't just normally bound up to a Gaelic speaker you don't know and expect them to speak Gaelic with you straight away. After a lifetime of only speaking Gaelic with close friends and family, this sudden surprise may come as quite a shock. Likewise, native speakers need to understand that most learners would be in seventh heaven to share a bit of craic with a native speaker - with the learner widening their vocabulary and improving fluency, and the native speaker maybe understanding a bit more about what motivates people to learn this beautiful and complex language, and helping encourage new speakers to keep Gaelic alive.

There are many, many other people who work tirelessly to promote Gaelic and spread the love whenever they can.

That is why I am absolutely fuming about the people who produce Outlander promoting their wares by launching a series of 'Speak Outlander' videos, to teach the viewers a word or two of Gaelic. In essence, it sounds like a good idea.

However, the picture above is a screen shot from the very first video. It says:

'Sassenach (sic) - Outlander or foreigner; more specifically an English person; usage generally derogatory'


Now, my understanding of 'Sassenach' (or even 'Sasannach') was actually that it simply meant somebody from England, none of this 'foreigner' or 'derogatory' business. So I asked a couple of respected folk in the Gaelic world - Adhamh o' Broin included - to ask where this 'derogatory' usage came from. And indeed, if the Gaelic word used to describe me is a derogatory one, then what is the non-derogatory Gaelic word for someone from England?

Of course, in modern context, 'Sasannach' isn't derogatory at all. Maybe it was back in the 18th Century, but it isn't today, at least not in Gaelic (although maybe in Scots).

It's a pity, then, that the first Gaelic word that many thousands of people are learning is actually being presented with its 18th century meaning and not its 21st century meaning. Is that made clear? Of course it isn't. After all, you should never let the facts get in the way of a bit of cheap promotion.

The irony is, this is in danger of turning more people against Gaelic than attracting them to it. There are enough obstacles for the learner to overcome as it is, and it is this kind of covert racism that has me wondering why I am bothering to learn Gaelic at all.

What goes up...

What goes up, must come down. Sunshine follows the rain. Night follows day.

For some reason, media and society seem to expect a 'constant' from us human beings, and we end up beating ourselves up if we're not always on top form. Lunch is for wimps. Feeling below par? Take a pill and be happy and productive. Unhappiness is an avoidable state.

Me, I don't subscribe to this 'always up' culture that we are pressured into believing is real.

There probably are people out there who can bumble along in a constant state of industriousness and discipline. I, my friends, am not one of them.

We all know that the best way to learn something, Gaelic included, is to go for the 'slow burn' and do a little bit every day, learning just one new word or phrase a day, and keeping refreshed on what we already know.

For some reason though, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this, my Gaelic learning seems to follow an intense 'crash and burn' cycle. Crash, burn, repeat.

Over the summer period this year I had plenty of time to devote to Gaelic revision. I basically re-sat my entire course from the previous academic year in my own time, hiding myself away for days on end and immersing myself in the Gaelic.

Then, come September, I simply stopped. It's a bit like that Forrest Gump scene from the film where he runs and runs and runs and runs and then one day, he just stops. After weeks of running, he suddenly doesn't want to run any more.

My ever-patient and understanding Study Buddy MR gave me some space, I did the minimum possible to keep my head above water in the new term of college, and slowly the momentum returned.

This time, the carrot dangling afore me was the interview for Beag Air Bheag that I did a few weeks ago. As the interview approached, the urgency to become as fluent as possible grew at an alarming pace, and by the end of October I once again had all my trotters in the trough and even started to dream in Gaelic. 

Then, after the interview, the music stopped. I didn't want to hear Gaelic or speak it for a while. Irritations and setbacks that I had previously managed to ignore or laugh off started to irk and cripple me.  Meanwhile, some charming young lad left a comment to a video I'd posted online proffering '...your attempt at Gaelic is actually insulting!' Curiously enough, he answered my Gaelic response in English.

I even contemplated the thought of jacking it all in. I'd had enough of being looked down on, people turning their backs to me, and being treated as very much an outsider. And people I thought would be supportive turned out to be anything but.

Fortunately, my true friends MR in London, CF in Dundee, and RK Inverness offered their empathy and support and have gently nudged and cajoled me back into action. 

For others who go through similar cycles, the important thing to remember when you are not 'feeling the love' is to be your own best friend. Don't be too hard on yourself, be kind to yourself, allow yourself a wee break, and don't feel pressured into doing anything. If, after a couple of weeks has elapsed, there is no improvement, you then do what your own best friend would do and give yourself a good kick up the backside and get out there again.

I am supremely confident that now the rain has stopped, the sun is about to come out again. To me, that's a more natural way of 'being' despite what we are told otherwise. The most important thing is just to hang in there when the rain falls, knowing that it will eventually pass. 

Anyway, if you want to hear for yourself just how much of an insult to the language my Gaelic really is, tune in to BBC Radio nan Gàidheal at 9.30pm this coming Sunday 13th December 2015, when my interview on Beag air Bheag will be broadcast. You can then at least make your own mind up if that's an acceptable level of fluency after two and a half years of learning.

Come out of the closet!

The nervous teenage boy enters his parent's sitting room.

'Mum, Dad, I have something to tell you. I'm Gael.'

Mum bursts into tears. Dad gets angry.

'But...but why son? Was it something we did? I KNEW we should never have had that holiday in Barra in 2009.'

'It's just the way I am. I've been surpressing it long enough, and I can't hold back any more. I'm Gael.'

Mum dries her eyes. 'I should have guessed. You left your computer on once and I saw you'd been looking at dirty websites like learngaelic.net. I've heard you listening to 'Beag Air Bheag' podcasts through your headphones. I even found those disgusting magazines under your mattress. Yes, those Sabhal Mòr Ostaig course notes and prospectuses from those 'weekends away' when you pretended you were going to the city with your mates to get off your face on booze and drugs and end up in trouble with the Police. But they were all lies weren't they? You were sneaking off up to weekend schools in Skye, learning the Gaelic, playing the fiddle, reciting poetry, singing songs and other such disgusting behaviour. How could you? HOW COULD YOU?'


OK, so this is all a bit tongue in cheek, but I'm prompted to imagine this scenario by two separate thoughts.

First off, it's to help my own understanding of why someone from the South East of England feels such a strong affinity with the Highlands and Islands, and Gaelic, despite the lack of roots. Well, sometimes strength of feeling cannot be explained logically, it just IS. Think of the men and women 'trapped' in the 'wrong' bodies. Transexuals are often ridiculed, but I for one think that you'll not find a a stronger and a tougher band of people. These folks have such a strong feelings from within that they are prepared for the mental and physical battle that lies between the gender that they are born with and the gender at which they will finally be at peace. As someone who is very happy in my own skin, I don't really understand it, but that doesn't mean to say I don't respect and admire these folk. Live and let live and celebrate diversity.

So while I'm happy with my skin and who I am, I often feel like there is a Gael deep down inside me busting to get out. I don't understand it, but am taking on the tough battle to let it out. Thank goodness I don't have to go through painful surgery or psychological analysis.

Just like the transgender man living as a woman before the operation has to endure the jibes and sneers of the mob, the Englishman learning Gaelic has to endure the thinly-veiled racism of the anti-English brigade. References to the 'Auld enemy,' 'the Bad Side of the Border,' and far, far worse will always serve to remind me that I am alone in a place where people hate the place where I was born and brought up. Yet, rather than give it all up, us English folk learning Gaelic just have to shoulder it and get on with it. Yes, there are many aspects of English Culture, History, and Politics about which I am deeply unhappy, but that doesn't make me as an individual responsible for any of them. As for History... well, so much of that is placed in a romantic light by dreamers who forget about one crucially important factor, and that is context. Dreamers and romantics refer to historical events in a modern-day context, which skews fact and interpretation.  Do I hold my German friends accountable for the destruction of my corner of the country and the loss of life 100 and 75 years ago? No. Do they hold me accountable for Dresden and the like? No. We shall never forget, but we shall also move on.

As for 'coming out of the closet,' it still amazes me how many Gaelic speakers hide their language and culture. Of course, Gaels are notoriously polite, decent, and modest folk, and their lack of arrogance and selfishness is one of the main reasons that I find the whole culture so utterly amazing and wonderful. However, this in itself brings additional challenges for the learner.

Let's look at our friends in the Gay Community. A generation or two ago, even the most placid and peaceful men and women were faced with no option than to be vocal and visible. It was the only way to get their rights to be who they are accepted and integrated into wider society. There is still some way to go, but things are moving in the right direction. A generation or two ago, if a train driver announced he was gay in the messroom it could have ended in his being ostracised and cut off, excluded and lonely until possibly he ended up on a downward spiral. I say 'he', because women didn't drive trains then. Nowadays, if a train driver announced that he or she was gay, it would be about as exciting and controversial as what was on the menu at the staff canteen.

What has this to do with Gaelic? Well, there is just so much of it in the Closet, and that makes it difficult for the learner and the would-be learner to find it being used in everyday life. Bigots will always put down minority groups because bigots are ignorant, and ignorance promotes fear. Ignorance means that they don't understand it so they try to kill it. When cultures and lifestyles are dragged out into the open and life doesn't end because of it, ignorance gradually fades.

Right now, the only way for somebody to learn Gaelic as an adult is to do it through some kind of a course. Ùlpan is the least academic course, but these courses are few and far between, and they never seem to be consistent or structured in their occurrence. The only clear courses with a clear progression path are the academic ones, at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Scotland and a few other colleges and universitites in the UK.

However, on social media I have been following a few Gaels who are disparaging towards the 'academic' approach to Gaelic. It's true that when you're at Sabhal Mòr, you are surrounded by people who have the time, brain power, and financial means to devote to an Academic Course. It is a luxury not everyone can afford, and in a chat with other students, we voiced concern that Gaelic is becoming a Luxury Language for the Middle Classes.

But what are the options, when Gaels refuse to speak Gaelic outwith people they know?

I am on a bit of a personal mission to find Gaelic outside the classroom. I have searched for homes or farm stays where guests can stay for a week with a Gaelic-speaking family and pick up what they can. So far, I have not found any such thing. I am sure that there are many farms, B&Bs, cafes, and other social places where Gaelic is spoken, yet this fact is never advertised. Just like some places are 'Bikers Welcome' or 'Walkers Welcome', howabout a scheme where 'Gaelic Spoken' is used in marketing? It would make life a lot easier for us intermediate learners who are looking for opportunities to consolidate all those words and grammar that's jumbled about in our heads into real-life sentences outside the classroom.

I have found one - just one - B&B where Gaelic is not just spoken, but it is promoted. That B&B is on the Isle of Lewis, and tomorrow I will head on up there to check it out. When I phoned to book and spoke Gaelic to the landlady, she never once reverted to English, even when I struggled. Now THAT is the kind of thing I'm looking for! Stay tuned and I'll tell you how it goes. 

The Invisible Gift Horse

Awaiting the Right Away, Scotland Bound again

There are many rewards, and frustrations, with learning Gaelic.

One of the frustrations I'm finding at the moment is that nobody within the Gaelic speaking community appears to acknowlege the existence of a very powerful asset that they have. Nobody appears to be looking outside the long-established bubble.

Anti-Gaelic bigotry is real, and I've only come across it in Scotland. Right now, some very narrow-minded and blinkered folk are working themselves up into a state about bilingual road and rail signs.

Yes, really!

Personally (maybe I'm biased) I love to see the bilingual signs. To my wide eyes they add a sense of place to this beautiful country, a 'uniqueness' that you only find outside England. It's also a daily reminder to non-Gaelic speakers of their native language's existence.

The bigots will argue that to support Gaelic is a waste of public money. In retort, the pro-Gaelic lobby will argue with the facts and figures that would suggest that money spent on the language is but a drop in the ocean. We could all find public projects that we don't agree with, but the joy of living in a democracy is that we need to allow others to enjoy their passions, skills, and creativity even if we don't understand. Even stuff we don't necessarily like or agree with adds to the fantastically rich and diverse culture of Scotland and of Great Britain in general. Me, I have no interest whatsoever in football. I don't really agree to my taxes paying to Police football matches, but a few million football fans would disagree with me. We live and let live.

Recently there was a survey about Gaelic learners. The study focussed soley on learners based in Scotland. During a recent course at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, we were asked by a third party to give our feedback and ideas for BBC Alba. My form was whipped away from me when I said I was resident in England, as my views would be null and void. This is slightly ironic as a licence fee payer who mainly watches BBC Alba, albeit by the wonder of the internet or satellite.

My major source of frustration, as I hinted earlier, is that I don't really exist in the wider Gaelic picture. Neither do my friends R, M, M, J, and E in London. Or R in Wales. Or M&C from Misouri. Or S from Germany. Or anyone else living outwith Scotland who spends a considerable amount of their income on Gaelic.

It's not just the Cùrsaichean Goirid and the Cùrsaichean Air Astar that we pay (non-Scottish rates) for. There's the travel, the food and accommodation, and the countless cultural trips to Glasgow, the Highlands, and the Islands that we make. Ever since my discovery of the Outer Hebrides in 2009, I have been hemhorraging my hard-earned English pounds in Scotland. Like many of my learner colleagues and friends, learning Gaelic is a way for us to get right underneath and into this beautiful country and its culture.

For the fact and figure lovers, here is my spending over the last 12 months:

Cùrsa Adhartais, 4 x modules @ £450 = £1800
Cùrsa goirid, two weeks at approx £500 p/w including board & lodging: £1000
Food, lodging, site fees, fuel, ferry, accommodation in Glasgow, Highlands & Islands: £2,200

So that's £5000 or thereabouts from me alone. November/December last year was Harris and Lewis. January was Celtic Connections in Glasgow. Mar/Apr/May was a three month island tour. I'm intending to sneak a wee trip or two to Staffin and/or Tiree before the end of the year, as well as basing myself in Glasgow for 10 weeks just to improve my accent.


There are hundreds of us making the pilgrimage to Scotland every year to immerse ourselves in the Gaelic language and culture. Coming to Scotland - where the landscape speaks Gaelic - is a ritual we enjoy. We spend lots of money while we're doing it, as do visitors who are not Gaelic learners, but see the language and the culture as part of the very fabric of Scotland that they find so attractive.

I may be wrong, but as far as I am aware we are not being counted. I cannot find evidence of our existence in any report or study that I have come across. Here is this wonderful, gift-wrapped present for the pro-Gaelic lobby to exploit and highlight; this body of non-Scottish learners demonstrating that Gaelic can be, and is, a money magnet as well as a cultural asset.

Yet despite our contribution and commitment, we seem to remain invisible.

I'd love to be proved wrong. I hope I will be.

'Getting' the future tense

The verb 'faighinn' in the future tense.

Irregular verbs, don't you just love 'em? There aren't actually that many in Gaelic compared to some other languages, but there are a few there with the primary purpose of being a challenge to remember.
In order of 'stem - past tense - future tense,' my four nightmare verbs are:

rach - chaidh/cha deach - thèid (go)

abair/can - thuirt - canaidh (say)

faigh - fhuair/cha dh'fhuair - gheibh/chan fhaigh (get)

thoir - thug - bheir/cha toir (give)


I find it really hard to commit these forms to memory. 'I went' is 'Chaidh mi...' yet 'I didn't go' is 'Cha deach mi...', as irregular in Gaelic as it is in English. Then in the future form you get another word - thèid - but at least this is fairly consistent throughout, dropping its lenition when making pronounciation easier.

The best way to remember things, of course, is to get them to make you laugh.

My 'Caraid Cànan' M made me laugh the other day with the verb 'get' in the future tense, and finally it has stuck.

All through the future tense, it's 'faigh' (rhymes with 'high'), with or without lenition, except the simple future which is a completely different word: Gheibh, loosely pronounced 'yeahv'.

Now, if you've been learning Gaelic more than a couple of months you'll soon be told that the phrase 'mas e thu toil e' ('if you please') is never, EVER uttered by native Gaelic speakers in everyday use.

Manners are implied by use of tense and the question form, so while 'bheir sibh dhomh cupa tì' (give me a cup of tea) is as direct and rude as it sounds in English, the phrase 'am faigh mi cupa tì?' (may I get a cup of tea?) is normally used instead. Forget sounding American, 'am faigh mi...' was around for a long time before English-speaking folk started imitating their American cousins.

So... we're used to 'am faigh mi...', to which of course the response in the negative is 'chan fhaigh' (easy enough to remember) but in the positive is 'gheibh'. Gheibh, as already mentioned, bearing no resemblance to the root 'faigh'.

So... how to remember this?

A great way to remember this is to think of the non-Gaelic speaker visiting a Gaelic speaking canteen-style cafe, and trying their best with the people serving the food:

'Am faigh mi seo?' (May I get this?) 'Gheibh' (You may)
'Am faigh mi seo?' 'Gheibh'
'Am faigh mi seo?' 'Gheibh'

Perplexed, our non-Gaelic speaker takes his food to his table and quietly has a word with his Gaelic friend.

'Well, they're a cheery bunch in here' he says to his friend.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, every time I used that phrase you taught me to get something, they practically cheered! I thought they were going to high-5 me every time!'
'I still don't get what you mean.'
'When I asked for and pointed at the fish, they went 'YEAH!'. Then when I asked for peas, they went 'YEAH!!' Then when I asked for chips, they again went 'YEAH!!!' Are they always that happy?'

His friend thought briefly, then put his hand over his eyes: 'Gheibh' said the friend. 'Gheibh'.


 Now, can anyone think up a joke for chaidh/cha deach/thèid? ;) 

We Need to Talk - and the Solution is Simple

Learning Gaelic can be challenging enough if you live in Scotland. However, if you live outwith Scotland, it can be even more of an uphill - and satisfying - struggle.

My Study Buddy 'C' recently sent me this link to a recent BBC News story:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/naidheachdan/33558755

'Cothroman a dhìth gus Gàidhlig a bhruidhinn' is the title of the piece, 'Lack of opportunities to speak Gaelic'.

Results of a recent survey show that one of the biggest challenges facing Gaelic learners is the ability to use their language skills outwith the classroom. Some of the students surveyed NEVER get the chance to practice.

You only have to look at my earlier blog entry 'Why Won't You Talk to Me?' to see the real life challenges faced by a real Gaelic learner when in the Outer Hebrides.

Before we look at my simple and all-pleasing solution to the problem, I need to have a minor rant about additional challenges for us Non-Scots who chose to pump our money into the country and learn its language.

For starters, take that survey. If it is the recent survey that took place earlier this year, then it only concerned itself with Gaelic Learners that reside in Scotland. Despite the fact that many Gaelic Learners are in England, Wales, Germany, the USA, and Canada, our views were not courted.  Just so you know, the results are only applicable to Scottish Learners, so the chances we have outside Scotland are even slimmer or non-existant.

To add insult to injury, the fees paid by Gaelic Students in England, Wales, the USA, and Canada can be over three times higher than those paid by Scottish students. When I last looked, for me to do An Cùrsa Comais at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig would have set me back £7,500 in fees compared to £2,200 for a Scottish resident. That's fair enough I guess (thank you, David Cameron and all those who voted for him) and the same fees apply to those resident in Wales, Northern Ireland, the US, and Canada. However, were I to live 25 miles away in Calais, I'd be paying the £2,200 along with all the German, Polish, and other EU Students. I thought that the UK was in the EU? Not when it comes to tuition fees. So not only are the English, Welsh, and Northern Irish charged three times the amount of someone living South of the Irish border or East of the English channel, but our views counted for nothing in the Gaelic Learning Survey. Well Gee Thanks Eddy, that really makes us feel valued for taking such an active interest in Gaelic and Scotland and overcoming all the associated hurdles and barriers!

Rant over.

I have to be grateful that at least those of us in 'Rest of UK' have access to the wonderful BBC resources, such as the podcasts of 'Beag air Bheag' on BBC Radio nan Gàidheal, and iPlayer programmes from BBC Alba. These resources help massively.

Back to the 'Lack of Opportunity' bit. I had an idea a while ago that I mentioned to folks at my college but nobody really took any notice. I'll mention it again now.

On one hand you have Gaelic learners in Scotland and around the world with little or no opportunity to practice their language skills.

On the other hand, we have a diminishing number of native Gaelic speakers whom at one time were monolingual and had to learn English as a second language. These people speak with old dialects and rich vocabularies that are crying out to be saved. These people are the Older Gentlefolk of the Highlands and Islands. Despite the enviable sense of community in these areas, there must still be times when these retired men and women feel a little lonely and isolated. And all but a few of them will have a telephone.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Surely it cannot be that difficult to marry up Gaelic Learners with patient older folk who would love to receive a weekly half-hour phone call from their 'Caraid Cànan' in Berlin, London, or Pitlochry?

Being down here in the South East of England I don't really know how to go about setting up something like that. Surely it can't be that difficult? It's an idea anyway. It's now out there, so let's hope that somehow it grows legs.

Why won't you talk to me?

Apologies for the lack of posts for a while… many other learners out there will appreciate that it’s been end of term assessment time here in Scotland.

However, with the business done, it’s time to enjoy a couple of weeks holiday, and where else but in the Outer Hebrides where at least you can practice your Gaelic?

Or can you?

As hinted at in an earlier entry, there are many reasons that a Gael may be reticent to speak Gaelic with someone they don’t know. I had a very interesting conversation with a Gaelic crew member on a CalMac ferry about it, which I shall come to later.

But first, just to give you an idea of what it’s like, let me tell you about my experience trying to buy a pint of milk in the community store this afternoon. As I was browsing the shelves, I heard the shop assistant chatting away in Gaelic to a regular customer. I got to the till, put my bottle of milk on the counter, and the conversation went exactly like this:

Me: ‘Feasgar math. Seo a-nis.’
Shop Assistant: ‘That’ll be one pound ten please.’
Me: ‘Obh…tha mi duilich, chan eil deich sgilling agam. Sin sibh.’
SA: ‘Thanks… and that’s ten pence change.’
Me: ‘Mòran taing. Mar sin leibh!’
SA: ‘Thank you, bye.’

I left the shop just about ready to give it all up.

On the ferry over to the islands, I got talking to a very nice crew member from Barra, a native speaker. We chatted about Gaelic, and I asked why so many people are reticent to speak it, especially outwith people they know.

The lady explained in a roundabout way that she, like many, is a little embarrassed of her Gaelic. It’s not what she considers ‘proper’ Gaelic. She gave two examples. One was when she worked on a ship with another Gael who flatly refused to understand her Gaelic (like the interaction above where there wasn’t even the smallest attempt to engage) and always spoke to her in English. Another was when the BBC journalist Andreas Wolf travelled on her ship and spoke to her. You may remember my earlier entry about Andreas, one of the few people people I am totally in awe of. Despite being a ‘new speaker’ (the latest term for ‘learner’), his Gaelic is perfect. And that was this lady’s problem… in her eyes, her Gaelic was not perfect. She was embarrassed. So she hardly ever speaks it. As we all know with languages, ‘If you don’t use it, you lose it,’ and here we witness yet another Gaelic speaker fading into history…


The 'wrong' Gaelic


If we go back to the 70s and earlier, it was almost impossible to hear a presenter or narrator speak with a regional accent or dialect on British TV and national radio. It was always ‘The Queen’s English.’ Only in the 80s did regional accents become popular and accepted into the mainstream. Of course, there is still pub or messroom banter at work between friends mocking the ‘funny’ way they say things if they are from another British region, but personally I have never witnessed anyone saying that something is ‘wrong’ if it is pronounced differently. I say bath and you say bath yet we both say father. I say rolls and you say cobs. I say little and you say wee. 

However, it appears that in the minds of many Gaels, there are no Gaelic dialects. Barra does not have a dialect, Lewis does not have a dialect, Uist does not have a dialect… instead you  have Barra Gaelic, Lewis Gaelic, Uist Gaelic… and countless other ‘Gaelics’ like Harris, Skye, Argyll, Islay…

Yet for some reason, in the minds of many Gaelic speakers, there is no ‘different’ Gaelic dialect, only ‘wrong’ Gaelic. ‘Oh, we don’t say that HERE’ has been spat at me on more than one occasion after saying the ‘wrong’ word.





Maybe what many native speakers don’t realise is that us learners/'new speakers' are exposed to all kinds of Gaelic, but this itself is taught within the Gaelic Orthographic Convention oojimaflip. No, even I don’t understand why certain things like the numbering system had to change. The French seem to manage quite well with a non-decimal counting system (‘sixty-ten, four twenties, four twenties ten’) and some of the spellings would have been better left as they were. I’d have been able to pronounce ‘feuch’ correctly far quicker if it was still ‘fiach’. However, I’m still getting my head around three ways to say ‘because’ (air sgath, o chionn, air sàillibh) for three different dialects, and I notice that Iain Urchardan’s  wonderful ‘Beag air Bheag’ Learner’s Programme on the radio goes to great lengths to include at least three different dialects every week.

The refusal of many Gaelic speakers to engage in conversation is one of the biggest challenges I have come across. I’m more forgiving of those who at least try at first, but switch to English at the first mistake, although that is still a bugbear. However, you can’t blame anybody for not having the patience to indulge the mistakes of a Learner. It’s annoying, but that is the price we pay for steamrollering English as the language of all communication throughout the entire UK.


Cùm a' dol


I shall leave you with a positive story.

A few months ago, during a weekend school at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, the tutor wheeled in a former student of the course we’re on, who is now completing his degree in Gaelic. This chap’s parents were Gaelic speakers but never, ever spoke to him in their native tongue. He was brought up in English and had to learn Gaelic through college.

Eventually, this chap told us, he rang up his Dad and spoke Gaelic to him. His father answered him in English. He continued in Gaelic. His father answered in English. Apparently, the whole conversation went like this. A bit like my conversation with the shop assistant.

The next time he phoned, he spoke Gaelic. His father answered in English. And so on and so on for the next three or four phone calls.

Finally, on the fifth or sixth phone call, the man’s father conversed in Gaelic, and they continue to do so to this day.

It was an inspiring talk he gave us. We just need to keep focussed on speaking Gaelic and not giving up hope. Other folks’ reticence to engage us in Gaelic is just another challenge that makes it all the more interesting. A bit like the genitive case. I’ll tell you this, Gaelic is not for wimps.

The question is, how many pints of milk will I have to buy to achieve the same result with the shop assistant?

We need to talk

I’m a bit rubbish when it comes to academia. I sat two A-levels at school, and did appallingly in my mock exams. In French I got 33%. Oops. My poor school performance encouraged me to do a bunk from school and push off to the Auvergne region of France where I had French friends. I spent many happy weeks ‘en famille’ completely immersed in French culture, went back to England, sat the A level exam, and got an A.

I did a similar thing with Dutch. A 12 week Total Immersion Programme including a two week stint at the University of Leuven in Belgium during which time I stayed with a Flemish family. During the 12 week course, English was banned after week two. If you didn’t know a word in Dutch, you weren’t allowed to ask for it in English. So if, for example, you wanted to know the Dutch for ‘cup’, you didn’t ask the tutor: ‘What is ‘cup’ in Dutch?’ You would instead ask, in Dutch: ‘Hoe zeg je in het Nederlands…waneer je drinkt tee of koffie…wat neem je het drankje in?’ (‘How do you say in Dutch…when you drink tea or coffee…what you put the drink in?’)

Sadly for us Gaelic learners, these options aren’t easy to come by. Gaeland does not exist. As I explained in the entry ‘Why is an Englishman Learning Gaelic?’, many native Gaelic speakers are reticent to speak with learners. Plus, unlike French and Dutch people who may not be able to speak English (although rare with the Dutch), practically everyone who speaks Gaelic also speaks English. It is therefore exceedingly easy for either side to lapse into English at the first hurdle. I reckon it must be easier to stop smoking or stick to a strict chocolate-free diet than keep a conversation in Gaelic when you don’t know a word or phrase.

To my knowledge, the only place where ‘Gaeland’ exists is Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, Scotland’s Gaelic college on the Isle of Skye. Here, students are contractually obliged to speak Gaelic, and it’s a wonderful enclave. However, even here, the laws of the land dictate that Health and Safety Notices are repeated in English, and anything crucially important to safety or welfare has to be communicated in English to avoid any confusion or misinterpretation.

If you’re not attending Sabhal Mòr Ostaig on a full-time course or a short course during the Easter or summer holidays, where do you go to speak Gaelic?

‘Speaking’ is the one biggest challenge that most learners cite when quizzed. After all, thanks to the likes of learngaelic.net, BBC Radio Nan Gàidheal, and BBC Alba, we can surround ourselves with Gaelic that we can absorb on conscious and subconscious levels. One thing media cannot address though is being able to call upon the grammar and vocabulary in our minds and make instant, grammatically correct, and appropriate sentences. Either we take five minutes to think of the right words, draw a blank, or bungle our way through in really bad Gaelic which eventually forces the conversation to switch to English.

Fail.

I’m no expert, but I reckon that everyday stuff you need for instant use is kept in a different part of the brain to the longer-term, lesser-used stuff. It’s a bit like keeping the coats you use daily hung up by the front door so you can grab one as you leave the house, but your snowboarding jacket or your bike leathers are hanging upstairs in the wardrobe. You use them less so it takes you longer to get to them. In a cranial sense I look upon this as ‘wiring’. I need to get the wiring into place that’s going to instantly transmit that Gaelic knowledge in my head directly to my mouth without spending too much time going through the slow process of conscious reflection. The only way to get that wiring into place is to speak. Make mistakes, but keep speaking.

I’ve got an idea or two of how to get speaking when you're 500 miles from Scotland. Stay tuned!