Cuirim mo dhóchas ar snamh/ i mbáidin teangan*

[dolorosa_12]

I had a rather awkward encounter with my Modern Irish teacher in the library today. I hadn't told her I was back in Cambridge as I felt so guilty at the way my Irish has just disappeared. I never was that good at it, but I could hold a conversation. And now, I open my mouth, and German comes out. I'm sure the Irish is there, buried somewhere in the dark parts of my mind, but for now it is gone, gone.

She managed to guilt me into coming along to Seachtain na Gaeilge, the department's 'Irish Week', and sing songs with the other students. I'm sure I'll be okay with the singing, as I love singing in Irish and once I start, I can generally remember the words. Thankfully, however, she didn't make me recite poetry as I did last year. I just looked back over the poem I read then, 'Ceist na Teangan'/'The Language Question' by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, and I'm so out of practice that the words sat heavy as stones in my mouth.

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* These are the first two lines of the poem 'Ceist na Teangan', and mean 'I place my hope upon the water/ in a little boat of language'.

Comments

[ymarchoggwachul.livejournal.com]

I hope you're enjoying being back in Cambridge! You certainly could hold a conversation as Gaeilge when we met at Oideas Gael, and that level of ability (whatever you’d like to call it) simply doesn’t disappear in a matter of months, even when another language is hogging all your attention. Don't make me pull out research papers on non-L1 language acquisition and retention to prove my point! ;)

I’m sure it’s just that first jolting experience when you ‘return’ to a language you’ve put aside for a while. Admittedly, when I encounter Welsh material in my research I do feel something quite similar. Bíodh misneach agat a chara! :)