Belfast native campaigns for his Donegal Gaeltacht home

(A slightly edited version of this was published in An tUltach, October 2017) 

Tá Danny Brown tógtha faoi bhánú na tuaithe, agus na Gaeltachta ach go háirithe. Tá an fadhb thart air chuile lá i Rann na Feirste. B'fhuarasta dallamullóg a chur ort féin agus tú ag amharc ar an áit. Tá go leoir tithe nua ann. Is tithe saoire cuid mhór acu. Tá roinnt daoine óga ag siúil an bhóthair. Is scoláirí ón gColáiste Samhraidh iad.

Is as Béal Feirste do Danny, ach é anois préamhaithe sa cheantar. Bhuaileamar lena gcéile tí s'aige, sean-teach go bhfuil dóigh maith curtha air.

Chuaigh sé leis an línitheoireacht nuair a d'fhág sé Coláiste Naomh Maolmhaodhóg i mBéal Feirste. “Dfhág mé Béal Feirste i naoi gcéad déag seachtó is a hocht,” ar seisean. D'aistrigh sé go Doire, Leitir Ceanainn, Baile Átha Cliath,Oileán Manainn, agus arais go Baile Átha Cliath. “I dtrátha an ama sin, thit an tóin as an cheird a bhí agam, mar tugadh ríomhairí isteach, agus bhí deireadh nach mór leis an cheird,” ar seisean.

D'athraigh sé a cheird. “Thosaigh mé ag scríobh do Lá agus corr-rud thall is abhus,” ar seisean. “Nuair a thosaigh Fiosrúchán Domhnach na Fola, bhí mé ag freastal ar sin beagnach chuile lá. Bhí mé ag tuairisceoireacht do Raidió na Gaeltachta. Ag an tús, ní raibh ann ach Fiosrúchán Domhnach na Fola ach de réir a chéile thosaigh siad ag glaoch orm faoin rudaí eile a bhí ag titim amach i nDoire.” Chomh maith “bhí sé i gcónaí mar chaitheamh aimsire agam scéalta beaga a scríobh.”

Ansin, tháinig cor eile ina shaol. “Chonaic mé go raibh obair ag dul i nGaoth Dobhair, obair a mhairfeadh sé mhí, ag scríobh scripte fá choinne clár teilifíse,” ar seisean. “Chuir mé sin isteach, agus bhí agallamh agam, agus fuair mé an post. Bhí foireann againn ann ag déanamh an sraith seo.” Chaith sé sé mhí i nGaoth Dobhair. “Ansin, in áit dul arais go Doire, rinne mé cinneadh fanacht,” ar seisean.

Bhí cairde sa cheantar aige. Leis “thosaig mé ag dul amach le mo bhean. Bhí aithne agam uirthi roimhe seo i nDoire. Bhí sise ag bogadh chuig an cheantair seo ar mhaithe lena cuid oibre, agus táimid le céile ó shoin. Bhí an teach seo ceannaithe aici, agus bhog mise isteach sa teach, agus sin an fáth go bhfuil mé mi Rann na Feirste.”

Ba i bhfad roimhe sin, ina óige, a thosaigh a shuim sa Ghaeilge.

“Bhí mo dheirfiúr dhá bhliain níos sine ná mé,” ar seisean. “Thosaigh sise ar Scoil Doiminic ar Bhóthar na bhFál.” Mar sin, bhí leabhair Gaeilge aici – gan fhios ag Danny cad ba Gaeilge ann. “Thosaigh mé ag crá mo dheirfiúr, ag iarraidh uirthi na focail a bhí ar an leabhar seo a fhuaimniú,” ar seisean. “Agus bhí sise díreach ag tosnú ag foghlaim Gaeilge.”

Chuala sé go raibh ranganna i gCumann Cluain Ard, thart an coirnéal uaidh, agus thosaigh ag freastal orthu. Muna raibh sé iontach díograiseach, bhí bunshraith Gaeilge aige nuair a thosaigh sé ar an mhéanscoil. Ba Muiris Ó Droighneán an múinteoir a bhí ansin aige. “Bhí seisean iontach maith mar mhúinteoir, níl mise ag rá go raibh muidne iontach maith mar dáltaí,” arsa Danny.

Mhéadaigh a shuim, cé gur thit Cumann Cluain Ard i leataobh. “Ansin, nuair a bhí mé ceithre bhliain déag d'aois, thosaigh na Trioblóidí,” arsa Danny. “Mhúscail na Trioblóidí rud éigean ionam, go raibh tábhacht leis an rud a bhí ag dul ar aghaidh i gCumann Cluain Ard.” D'fhill sé ar an Chumann agus “fuair mé amach go raibh saol eile, rúnda, in Iarthar Bhéil Feirste.Sampla de sin go raibh siopa ar Bhóthar Kashmir, ag coirnéal Sráid Clonard, bhí sé céad slat ón teach s'againne – Houstons. An t-aon eolas a bhí agam ná gur cuireadh chuig Houstons mé fá choinne prátaí (agus eile) – greengrocers a bhí ann.”

Ansin, lá, bhuail sé isteach chuig Houstons. “Thosaigh Mrs Houston ag labhairt liom, agus níor thuig mé focal,” arsa Danny. “Ansin, dúirt sí 'práta' 'prátaí' – ah! Gaeilge! B'as Baile na Finne í. As sin, dhiúltaigh sí Béarla a labhairt liom.”

Leis, b'iad a dream a thóg Gaeltacht Bhóthair Seoighe a rinne Sráid Bombay in aice leis a ath-tógáil i ndiaidh gur dódh Mí Lúnasa 1969 é. “Bhí siad sin ag caint i nGaeilge eatarthu féin,” ar seisean. “Go tobann, bhí an saol sin a bhí i bhfolach amuigh ansin go foscailte.”

Bhí sé ag tarraingt ar an Chluain Ard go dtí gur aistrigh sé go Doire. Mhair an suim, gan bheith, b'fhéidir, in amannaí chomh láidir agus a bhí. Agus é ar Oileán Mhanainn “bhí mé amuigh sa phub oíche amháin agus bhí fear b'fhéidir caoga bliain d'aois le fear óg agus bhí sé just ag cur síos ar rudaí. Shíl mé gur droch-Gaeilge a bhí ann. Agus chuir mé ceist air – an é sin Gaeilge? Agus dúirt sé – Mannanais – agus bhí cúpla oíche agam leofa siúd.”

Chomh maith lena shuim sa Ghaeilge, is sóisialach é Danny. Ba cheardchumannach a athair, chuala sé caint ar an sóisialachas óna óige. “Ní raibh leisc ar mo thuismitheoirí labhairt faoi na rudaí a bhí ag tarlú sa domhain,” ar seisean. “Mar shampla, an leas-ainm a bhí ag mo mháthair orm nuair a bhí mé thart fá ocht déag ach 'Fiddle' – ní raibh baint aige le h-uirlisí ceoil ach le Fidel Castro.

“An míniú atá agamsa ar an rud atá ag tarlú sa Ghaeltacht, tagann sé ón gcúlra sin,” ar seisean. “Tá fhios agam go bhfuil an córas go bhfuilimid beo ann, go bhfuil sé ann ar leas dream ar leith daoine, agus go bhfuil an chuid eile againn ann le déanamh cinnte go bhfuil stíl beatha acusan, go leanfaidh sé, go gcoinneoidh siad gréim ar cibé buntáistí atá acu.” Bhíodh pobal bríomhara faoin dtuath, ach tá rudaí dá lárnú isteach sna bailtí móra, gan troid ina éadán. “Tá rud ar leith ag tarlú sna pobail Gaeltachta, mar, chomh maith le bánú na tuaithe, táimid ag cailleadh oidhreacht atá ag dul siar cúpla míle bliain,” ar seisean. “Níl freagra ar bith ag an chóras, ag an stát, ar sin.”

Tá 'perfect storm' anois ann. Sna 70idi, nuair a bhí géarchéim i nGaeltacht Chonamara, chuir dream óg Gluaiseacht Cearta Sibhialta na Gaeltachta ar bun, throid siad, bhain siad rudaí amach, ach “níl na daoine óga ann leis an troid a dhéanamh. Beidh deireadh leis an Ghaeltacht muna ndéanfear athruithe bunúsacha. Caithfidh seo tarlú iontach, iontach, gasta. Níl fostaíocht ar bith ann. Fiú nuair a chruthaíonn siad fostaíocht, cuireann siad sin ar fáil ar an Chlochán Liath, ní ins an Ghaeltacht cheart ach ceann de na ceantaracha is laige Gaeilge i limistéar na Gaeltachta oifigiúla. In ionad buntáiste a thabhairt do na ceantaracha is láidre Gaeilge, bunaíonn siad monarchana i gceann de na ceantaracha is laige Gaeilge.”

Leis, is comhlachtaí eachtrannacha a mealltear isteach, agus Béarla an teanga cumarsáide. Tá impleachtaí leis seo. “Má tá tú ag éirí dul ar aghaidh sa tsaol, caithfidh tú do theanga, do chultúr, a fhágáil ag an doras,” ar seisean.

Molann Danny comharchumainn áitiúla, a bheadh fóirsteanach don líon oibrí agus na scileanna sna ceantaracha. “Tchítear domsa gur sin an t-aon bealach go dtig leis an Ghaeltacht teacht slán as seo,” ar seisean.

Major police failings in handling of domestic violence victim

(A slightly edited version of this piece was published in Village, October 2017)

An inquest into the death of an Omagh woman who was a domestic violence victim heard evidence of major failings in PSNI handling of events, and how the the police subsequently changed procedures in dealing with persons who reported being assaulted. Thirty-six year old Mairéad McCallion died in hospital on February 24th 2014, the day after telling police her partner Noel Knox grabbed her by the hair and knocked her head against a wall before throwing her out of the house.

Knox then called police because Mairéad and another man were outside. It was a very cold day, and she was wearing neither shoes nor coat – and wanted Knox to give them to her.

When police arrived, Mairéad reported the assault. Police saw clumps of hair had been torn from her head. They arrested Knox, and brought her to the custody suite at police station for examination.

A senior police officer told the inquest procedures had now changed. Chief Superintendent Karen Baxter said that all victims should now be taken to an accident and emergency unit. “The custody suite is not a place of safety – it is a place of detention,” she said.

Constable Catherine Kilkie, to whom Mairéad reported the assault, said she did not tell the Forensic Medical Officer (police doctor) who examined Mairéad about the blow to the head, or that Mairéad said “her head was a bit sore.” Kilkie told the inquest she did not pass this on as “the doctor usually takes an account from the victims themselves.”

There was conflicting evidence as to whether Dr Paul Alleyway, who examined her in the police station, asked her had she sustained a head injury.

Alleyway said “on direct questioning, she denied having a head injury.” Civilian Custody Officer Linda Carson was present during the examination said “I just can't recall” this question being asked. In his notes, Alleyway recorded having asked the question. These notes were completed on the following day.

After the examination, the Custody Sergeant thought it necessary to bring in a Domestic Violence Officer to deal with Mairéad. However, it was a Sunday, none was on duty, and he was denied authorisation to bring one in on overtime.

There was conflicting evidence from two police officers about Mairéad's condition on the afternoon of the alleged assault. Constable Gareth McCrystal said Mairéad's face was “sloped like she had a stroke” when he first saw her outside the house. When he later returned to Omagh Police Station after taking Knox to Omagh police station, he was “concerned she had changed so much from what I'd see three hours or so previously” but not enough to call an ambulance. She was in the reception area and slumped.

Kilkie told the inquest she believed Mairéad had deteriorated because she hadn't taken her medication, and her difficulties in walking were due to wearing heels.

In mid-afternoon McCrystal and Kilkie drover her away from the police station in a police car. They were taking her to a friend's house. She only had the clothes she stood in, and none of the medication she needed. Kilkie gave evidence of only ringing the friend when they were on the way. The friend could not keep Mairéad.

During the journey, McCrystal said Mairéad was “not speaking but making noises in the back of the car.” When they reached the friend's house, Kilkie went inside. Mairéad began making retching noises. McCrystal asked her “if she could, could she please be sick outside the car.” By this stage, she was not speaking. He rang Kilkie, who contacted paramedics.

Paramedics treated her on the scene, then took her to the South West Acute Hospital in Enniskillen, where she died of a catastrophic brain injury. This injury was not survivable.

Mairéad did not fit the stereotype of a domestic violence victim. She had been a straight-A student at her grammar school, then went to university in Scotland.

There, she suffered mental health difficulties and had to leave. Returning to Omagh she began training as an accountant. Then, in August 1998 she arranged to meet her friend Julia Hughes in the town centre one Saturday afternoon. The Omagh Bomb exploded that afternoon: Julia was killed. That was another blow to Mairéad's health.

However, she continueed to work. She moved to Coleraine and bought her own place. Unfortunately, her depression and drinking worsened. Her mother died, and shortly after she moved back to Omagh.

Mairéad was unemployed. She drifted into a circle of alcoholics who gravitated round drinking houses in a couple of housing estates. She tried to fight her demons, and enjoyed periods of sobriety. She also formed a relationship with Knox, an unemployed alcoholic about a dozen years older than her. It was a controlling relationship. They lived together in Knox's brother's house, but she did not have a key.

Knox has never been convicted of assaulting Mairéad. He was charged with her murder, though the charges were subsequently withdrawn.

Evidence was given that the screensaver on his phone was a picture of her with a broken nose and two black eyes: and that, when he rang her, this picture came up on her phone.

Police logged five complaints from Mairéad that Knox had assaulted her, though all were withdrawn. She obtained a barring order against him on one occasion. Under cross-examination during the inquest, Knox accepted physically putting her out of the house the day before she died. He admitted she fell in the front garden and may have hit her head on the grass, or on a metal manhole cover.

That day, in the police station, she spoke to Linda Carson about being a domestic violence victim. Mairéad said “she was going to do something about it this time.”

Her sister Josie and half-brother Marcus both told the inquest of seeing bruises on her. Josie said that once “it was obvious she had been beaten up, there were bruises on her.” Marcus saw he with a black eye. According to Alloway, her injuries were consistent with repeated domestic assault.

The last seven years of her life had been difficult for Mairéad, as she struggled with mental illness, alcoholism, and a troubled relationship. Even at the end, she showed positive qualities. Jonathan Cunningham was one of the police who spoke to her the day before she died. He remembered: “She was a very nice wee lady.” Linda Carson chatted to her also. “She was a very easy person to speak to,” Carson said. “She seemed to be an intelligent and articulate lady.”