In the shelter of each other the people live. [Video]
“In the shelter of each other the people live.”
Probably the most well-known Sean Fhocail, which is most often referenced, is “Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.”
When translated, it means “In the shelter of each other the people live.”
The word “Scáth” also means “shadow”, so it can also be read as “In each other’s shadow, we live.” This Sean Fhocal, or Proverb, means we rely on each other for shelter and support. It speaks to our interconnectedness as people, our shared humanity. Our ancestors relied on each other for support in the important matters of survival, from saving the hay to bringing the turf home.
Saving The Hay - A Childhood Memory
Photo by Novica Alorić
In Connemara, when I was a child, the grass was cut traditionally with a long-handled scythe. Little machinery was used because the fields were so small, the land poor, and fields full of stones. The best time for cutting hay was in June when the grasses were in flower. Once the grasses were tall enough, they were cut and then turned by fork to dry both sides. I loved turning the hay with the fork because the two-pronged fork was light enough for me to use. Although I was young, I loved the feeling of contributing to the work and being part of it.
When the grass was cut, it was shaken out and made into “cocaí féir”, which means haystacks (small cocks (mounds) of hay). Unless the hay was already very dry, these were left in the fields for a few more days to dry out some more. Súgans were ropes made from hay, twisted and drawn over the haystack to tie them down securely. By the time I was helping with the hay in the 1980s, regular ropes were used, but in the time before that, it was ropes made from the hay itself. There is a well-known sean-nós song in Connemara (old style singing) that my maternal grandfather loved to sing, called ‘Casadh an tSúgan (the twisting of the Súgans), that describes the twisting of the hay into rope. Once the ropes were in place, they were secured further with heavy stones attached at the ends, holding the hay stacks down in high wind.
Bringing The Hay Home From The Field
The haystacks stood in the field for a month or so, and then it was time to bring them home from the fields to the shed or haggard- the traditional storage area for the crops. This was something that I remember with great excitement because neighbours would arrive early in the morning to help. I felt a real sense of community. Something important was happening. I remember running out to the fields in the early Summer morning, ready and eager to help.
I also remember returning to the kitchen with my grandmother at various times during the day, helping prepare food and bringing tea and sandwiches back to the fields for lunch in the sun. I remember calling my grandfather back from the far field to have the tea. I can still smell fresh hay, and everyone is leaning against the haystacks, drinking great pots of tea and eating thick slices of porter cake my grandmother had made. The smells still stayed with me, and the feeling of relief I sensed in my grandparents as the evening closed in, when the hard work was complete, and the hay was saved for another year.
“In the shelter of each other the people live.”
“Infield” by Chris Rodmell, Aran Islands, 1973.
Photo by Chris Rodmell, Aran Islands, 1973.
‘Old Words’ or Proverbs in Ireland
I grew up in the South Connemara Gaeltacht, on the west coast of Ireland. It is one of the remaining regions in Ireland that speaks Gaeilge (Irish) daily. It is my first language and my native tongue. As a child, “Sean fhocail”, which, in the Irish language, means “Old Words”, are the Proverbs that were part of everyday speech where I grew up. What I find beautiful about Sean Fhocail, or Sean Fhocla as we say in my particular regions, is their close association with the land, with animals, birds, the sea, with the presence of the sun, moon and the tides, and of course the changing weather, with the moments of merriment and celebration, with the ordinary daily life of our people. Sean Fhocail, like folklore, are passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation. This wisdom can stretch back hundreds of years. The landscape was imbued with sacred significance and mystery for our Gaelic and Celtic ancestors. Every field had a name. Every mountain, stream, and rock had its own story to tell. Every tree and river had its own significance, its own spirit.
Sean Fhocail are a witness to the past. They are a glimpse into an ancient world. There is a deep wisdom about them that I have always loved. These ancestral treasures can once again be an invitation to us to explore our own relationship to the landscape and the natural world as well as our relationship to the rich inner landscape of the soul.
