Hard times, happy days, arranged marriages and superstitions inhabit the stories spun from the apron strings of 'na Bibeanna', the Dingle women whose memories have been collected, writes Catherine Foley
Echoes of a disappearing rural lifestyle, where a subsistence economy prevailed and arranged marriages were frequent, sound through the pages of Bibeanna, a new book edited by Brenda Ní Shúilleabháin.
The featured women, all from the Dingle Gaeltacht and ranging in age from 63 to 94, show a stoicism and an acceptance of life's knocks as well as a sense of enjoyment and fun, in a series of interviews that were first recorded in Irish for a TG4 documentary series, and are published in a bilingual format.
The 25 interviewees are called Bibeanna, after the Irish word for the bibs or aprons that women used to wear in rural Ireland as a kind of uniform, all day, every day except for Mass on Sunday.
In their reflections, the women talk about the changes they have seen and the loved ones they have lost. They throw light on the pace of change they have witnessed, and, in some cases, the attendant loss of a kind of innocence that has resulted.
"Many have experienced considerable hardship," explains Ní Shúilleabháin. "The loss of either spouse was a huge blow, economic as well as emotional."
"We lived a simple life, no electricity or running water. My mother cooked everything over the open fire in a three-legged pot," recalls Máirín Bean Uí Lúing. "There was no proper well in Carhoo, so we had a pump and the water was horrible and yellow."
"We had no television or radio. Stories of the Fianna were our entertainment, the rosary was said in every house, every night. Now there are three or four televisions in every house, and a lot of what is shown is not good; we'd be better off without a lot of it," says Máirín Bean Uí Mhuircheartaigh, who talks about her life, including the fact that she was "born in Baile an Lochaigh, the only daughter in a family of six children. All my brothers became teachers, and everyone of them was very good to me. They never sent home an empty letter. Looking back, if I had my life again, I would stick to the books and be a teacher like them."
AS NÍ SHÚILLEABHÁIN points out: "many of the Bibeanna had their marriages arranged, and sometimes the girl herself initiated the arrangement." Cáit Chosaí Bean Firtéar recalls how her marriage was arranged. "My aunt made the match, because I chose my husband. I said no one else would satisfy me, and if I didn't get him, that I would go to America. In those days, a girl could send a man an offer just as easily as a man could send one to a woman. In any case, my match was made, and it was a good one."
The women share their thoughts in a clear, honest way on a wide range of issues ranging from loneliness to dancing and singing, from love and happiness to religion and superstition, from family and loss to their livelihoods. They combine nostalgia with an uneasy prescience threaded through their observations.
Edna Bean Uí Chinnéide talks about a child, Parthalán, who died. "We had him for only 17 days. And now, looking back, I am saddened by the lack of importance accorded to his life and death," she says. "There was no requiem for a child in those days, and no priest at the funeral, and no formal recognition at all that this little boy had lived as long as he could, and that his death left us heartbroken."
Their memories are shot through with old-fashioned images of another time. "When I was a young girl going dancing, big wide skirts were all the fashion," recalls Máirín Bean Uí Chathalláin. "We had underskirts to put under them, kind of lace petticoats that we had to stiffen so that they would stand out nice and widely." She remembers how they used to boil sugar and sprinkle the sugar solution on the underskirts and iron them. "In those days we had no electricity, so we put a stone in the fire until it was red hot, and then we put it in the iron case." After ironing the underskirt, "it became as stiff as starch, and our skirts stood out beautifully," she says.
Like many of the women, Caitlín Bean Uí Shé has a great sense of humour, with a trove of stories to tell about the high jinks that went on. She remembers the night her uncle stayed with them. "I don't know who thought of the trick but someone went and hid under his bed, and waited until he fell asleep. Then they got up on hands and knees and began to press the mattress up from below, waking poor Paddy . . . He screamed for my mother and father: 'There's a ghost under my bed, I'm done for.' We all nearly died laughing, and I suppose, in the end, so did Paddy."
Siobhán a' Chró Bean Uí Dhubháin recalls how "from the first of April until Hallowe'en, we never wore a shoe", and how "in those days, milking was women's work". As for school, she says, "I had nice teachers. But I never liked it, and after I finished in Dún Chaoin, I went no further. I preferred to work on the farm. That was my choice."
WHEN IT COMES to love and death, the women are equally direct, eloquent and unfailingly wise. Bean Uí Chathalláin remembers how things were when her father drowned at sea when she was less than three years old. "After that, life was hard on my mother, and on my grandparents who lived with us, along with myself and my two brothers. We went to school barefoot most of the year, running all the way to Murreigh and back. We had no excess weight in those days."
Siobhán Fahy remembers how her husband died when she was just 27, and expecting their second child. "It was very hard, of course it was. The child (who is now a man) was born six weeks after my husband's death. It was very hard in the hospital. All the other women had their husbands coming in visiting, bringing flowers . . . I was angry with God at first, but then, we were very happy in the four years of our marriage, and death came quickly and mercifully and without pain. In the end you have to accept what life sends you, and I had two children to raise, so I set about it."
Their words never reflect the cosy, stereotypical viewpoint. Cáit Chosaí Bean Firtéar, although devout, has some questions about her religion. "I don't go to confession any more. I like people to be good, to do no harm to anyone, to live good lives," she says. "I think people always had questions about the things we were supposed to believe. My husband often asked how our bones would come together on the last day. How will that happen?"
Bibeanna, Memories from a Corner of Ireland, edited by Brenda Ní Shúilleabháin, is published by Mercier Press, €20