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A Look at Forestry Community Games Fás Notes Garda Siochána HALLOWEEN FIRE AND A STRANGE TALE Lament for Scariff Scariff ICA Scariff Minor & Camogie Club SCREAM Child Labour Project goes to DublinHALLOWEEN FIRE AND A STRANGE TALE BURN THE WITCH GOOD DEVIL BURN HER ONCE WELL THEN BURN HER NO MOR 'TILL YOU BURN HER FOREVER IN HELL This dainty little ditty comes to us from Germany, where they really take their Calendar Festivals seriously, particularly the festival of Walpurgisnaght, which is their Halloween festival. As part of the evenings entertainment, they burned the effigies of witches, whenever they hadn't the real ones to burn at the stake, and chanted the above incantation: which shows that their opinion of witches was pretty low. This was/is in contrast to Ireland where witches were sometimes looked upon as wise women, like our own Biddy Early, and were treated more with respect and awe, as much as with fear. The exception being Dame Alice Kytler, of Kilkenny, who was really evil, and was actually burnt at the stake. THE FIREPLACE Keeping in mind the use of fire in the permanent disposal of undesirables who dabbled in the occult, or who were merely suspected of doing so, we need not look much further than our own humble fireplaces as the inspiration for much of the old folklore regarding witches and ghosts. Down through the centuries, the open fire, or hearth, has enjoyed the distinction of being the very heart and soul of the house and home, for varying reasons. ARMIES IN THE FIRE Obviously, Robert Louis Stephenson was a Celt at heart, with a Celts vivid imagination. His poem, Armies In the Fire, is a classic example of the Celtic feel for the supernatural, and the images conjured up by the dancing flames of the open fire. A BIT CLOSER TO HOME I well recall my grandmother 'smooring' the fire each night, during the winter months. This was the very last thing she did each night, and entailed burying a fresh sod of turf in the hot ashes in order to have a glowing ember to start off the fire again the next morning. You might be forgiven for lauding this chore, especially when it is recalled that there were no firelighters in those days, but you would not be altogether correct. She had another, more obscure reason; She believed that the dead, and the Wee Folk came by each night, and spent the night sitting around the warm fireplace, talking and yarning, as they did when alive. Evidently they took it in bad part if the fireplace was cold, and might, out of malice, stop the hens from laying, or the cow from giving milk, so the smooring went on throughout the winter and the dear departed stayed warm and happy. One did not have the courage to mention to her that given the track record of some of the aforementioned departed relations their chances of ever suffering from the cold again was extremely remote. HALLOWEEN AND THE FIRE When it came to Halloween, she took no chances, and on the night, she smoored two or three sods, probably expecting some of our departed overseas relatives on the night. All in all, she was merely keeping up a tradition as old as time itself. The fireplace was a shrine to which ancestral spirits returned, a link with the past. The fireplace was the spot where we all adjourned once nightfall had set in, and all the other activities of the day were ended. Around the blazing fire we formed a cosy family circle, which could be and frequently was expanded to admit a welcome caller or three. There are few sights as cheering as a bright cheerful fire, blazing merrily in the hearth, as one comes indoors from a cold, wet, and miserable night, and as often as not, the kettle will be singing away for itself, putting one in mind of a scalding mug of tea. Such is the influence of the fireplace on our lives, and it was sitting there in that cosy gathering that many of the most chilling tales of the supernatural were told. In those days, before the advent of electricity, when a penny candle was the alternative illumination to the fire, after darkness had fallen, the cheery brightness of the fire was most appreciated, and paradoxically, it was those same dancing flames which inspired many a good storyteller to spin a tale of the supernatural which all but frightened the lives of his listeners. The fireflames threw up shadows which leaped and twisted in a mad, frenzied dance on the walls and ceiling, adding a macabre and chilling touch of the otherworld to the story being told. HALLOWEEN On Halloween, that eerie night of witches, ghosts, the Pookah, and things that go 'Thump' in the night, the lure of the bright warm fire was irresistible, and regardless of the fun and entertainment of the night, it was around the fire that everyone gathered to finish off the night with a host of spine chilling ghost stories, Here is one to chew on:
THE DAGGER A certain local man had returned home from abroad, having been away for about twenty years or so. He had always been a real hard case, and his years as a merchant seaman had done little to soften him. He had arrived home in late October, less than a week from Halloween, and if his parents were glad to see him they gave little sign of it, and if he brought a lot of money home with him, well, they showed little sign of that either. He did little else beyond drinking, and it was a serious topic, whether his money, or the publicans beer supply would run out first. If his drinking was bad, his profanity was much worse, and it soon became the great scandal of the district the way he used to mock God, and dubbed his former neighbours as priest-ridden, superstitious fools. On the feast of All Souls, he was out drinking at his favourite pub, roaring drunk, and jeering at the idea of the Holy Souls. "There is no such thing as God, nor is there such a thing as an afterlife." he shouted angrily at his cronies. 1'Those priests are making fools of you all." "Hould on a minute, now, Dinny", said one of them, "You are forgetting about ould Dalton's haunted grave. Sure you know well that strange things and sights occurred up there in the graveyard, with ould Dalton well known to have been in the middle of it all, and tonight is the anniversary of his death." "Superstitious nonsense, and I'll prove it. " says Dinny. "Do you see this Bowie knife. " he says, taking a wicked looking dagger from a scabbard in his belt. "Well I'm going down to the churchyard, and I'm going to drive this knife right into the centre of Dalton's grave, and you can all come down and see me do it. That is, of course, if you are not afraid." he added with a sneer. It was a typical November Eve. A howling gale drove freezing rain before it, and within seconds, all the men regretted leaving the snug warmth of the pub. However, they were now committed and on they went to the graveyard. There was no way any one of them would go in with Dinny, so in he went by himself, his way illuminated by the occasional flash of lightening. He knew where Dalton's grave was, and found it easily. On reaching the grave, Dinny knelt down on the slightly sunken mound, and taking his Bowie knife in both hands, he drove the blade deep into the wet earth. "That will settle your hash for you, you old fake, " says Dinny, "And I will come back for my dagger tomorrow: Haunted grave, huh, the superstitious idiots". Dinny was about to stand up from the grave when he felt a sudden downward tug on his overcoat. Out on the roadside, the group of men waited nervously for Dinny to come back. Suddenly they were startled, almost out of their boots, by a frenzied, terrified scream from the pitch dark graveyard. "God almighty, ould Dalton has him." Said one of the men. "What’ll we do at all." "Hang on a moment and see if he comes out". said a more steady member of the group. "If he is in real trouble we will have to get help." With no sign of Dinny coming out, two men were sent' together to get the priest and the doctor, and two others to get the police. They found Dinny's body sprawled across Dalton's grave, with a look of sheer terror on his face. A brief examination by the doctor showed that Dinny had died from a heart attack, but the doctor ordered the policemen to bring the body to the local morgue for a post mortem examination. They had much difficulty in raising the body from the ground, and on closer examination,, found that the man's overcoat was pinned firmly to the earth with the blade of the dagger.
Michael O’Gorman The Department of Forestry organised an information event on 8.10.2001 for those interested in starting and /or maintaining a forestry plantation. About two hundred visitors from Clare and its surrounding counties arrived from morning to afternoon at the Bodyke G.A.A. clubhouse during a largely bright and sunny day. After registration, groups were ferried by mini bus to either the ‘starting planting’ area or the maturing forests. There were eleven in my group as we headed for Tom Mc. Namara’s and the Coillte plantations on Raheen Hill and later to more mature forestry in Raheen Wood. There is a widespread misconception that once the forestry has been established that the owner has only to sit back and wait for God and nature to start the profits rolling in. The reality, as presented to by John Madden and his colleagues from the department, is quite different. While it is true that little other than inspection, and possibly some fertilisation, needs to be done after the early years, there are critical times when very important pruning, thinning, brushing [that is clearing inspection routes] and road building must be undertaken if a profitable crop is to be produced. One could sense the disappointment as the prospect of easy money disappeared. The highlight of the day was watching the the wondrous cutting machine on hire from Peter Sheeran from Laois as it gobbled its way through a section of forest. Progressing along on eight independently driven large wheels, it not alone cut the thinnings but automatically sawed them into different predetermined lengths. It decided on which length was suitable for each section of tree by the thickness of the bole. It also cut off any portion which was crooked, pared off all small branches and lopped off the head, all in about the time it took you to read this brief account of its complicated activity. The on - board computer keeps a record in cubic metres of the total volume of timber cut during the day. Peter told us that the change out of £300000 for a replacement machine would not pay the driver for very long. The machine is symbolic of the science and technology which is part of modern forestry. However the tea and sandwiches provided by Scariff I.C.A. in the clubhouse on our return was more than a mere symbol of the hospitality provided by the department and its officers on that fine October day.
Tim McGillicuddy ________________________________ As the Fás scheme restarted during the summer after a break of nearly a year, it took about a month to get grass cutting under control. now however, all green areas, housing estates, picnic areas and the two graveyards are looking very well. Flower beds have been laid out in the Riverside Park and shrubs have been planted. Meanwhile the flower beds on the Mountshannon Road and on the road to the church have been cleaned up. The workers have also maintained all the hanging baskets around the town and on the bridge. The street is cleaned twice a week and the litter bins are emptied. The Lane River at Church Street has been cleaned while the barrier near the new graveyard has been painted and re-erected. The Kyle in Clonusker has also been cleaned up. Stone building is to resume shortly. There is a shortage of stone for building and the Community Council appeals to parishioners to let it know if there is any stone available.
At present painting is in progress inside and outside the Market House. We are very lucky here in Scariff to have a dedicated group of skilled workers on our Fás team. They take a great pride in their work and it shows.. __________________________
The ICA had its monthly meeting on 10th October. Pat Donnellan gave a talk on Community and Group Development. The next meeting of the ICA will take place on Wednesday 14th November.
The Gardaí are anxious to tidy up the matter of gun licences and ask that any gun owners who still have not renewed their licence might attend to it straight away. The presentation of County and East Clare Championship hurling medals to the U12 boys and the County Championship Camogie medals to the U12 girls will be held on Friday 2nd November at 8-30pm in the GAA Hall. All are welcome to join in this unique occasion. The AGM of Derg (Scariff, Tuamgraney, Bodyke) Community Games will be held in the Market House, Scariff on Thursday November 1st at 8pm. New as well as existing members are welcome. Parents and youths with an interest in helping our young people to participare in and enjoy the various events would be very welcome. Your support would be greatly appreciated.
SCREAM Child Labour Project goes to Dublin Last year’s transition year students of Scariff Community College are doing it again. Building on the success of the child labour project conducted in the school between January and May this year, the group have been offered the opportunity to share their experience with three other schools (including one from Belfast) as part of a five-day child labour drama festival being held in November at the Glencree Centre for Reconciliation in the Wicklow mountains south of Dublin. Such was the impact of SCREAM, the piece of drama portraying the suffering of child labourers, which the students wrote and developed themselves and performed in Mountshannon in May, that it was felt that the process should be taken to a new level, this time in Dublin.
The enthusiasm and commitment of the students and the support of the many people who were involved in the first phase of the project or who were touched by it in some way provided the impetus for the development of this next phase. The drama festival will involve five days of workshops run by creative writing and drama professionals experienced in working with young people, culminating on 22 November in two performances in a Dublin theatre of a series of new short pieces of drama written and rehearsed by all the participants and of the SCREAM play by the Scariff students. The first performance will be for other schools; the second performance will be, as in Mountshannon, for an invited audience of politicians, education authorities, teachers, representatives of trade unions and NGOs and, of course, the students’ parents. Holding the festival at the Glencree Centre for Reconciliation, a government-funded cross-community programme aimed at fostering peace, tolerance and reconciliation especially among young people from either side of the Northern Ireland/Republic of Ireland divide, has added a new dimension to the project, enabling a school from Northern Ireland to take part. For all but one of the schools, the students, teachers and resource people will be accommodated at the Glencree Centre for the duration of the festival. The idea of this next phase of the project is to build broad-based support for this educational model in Ireland and to encourage other schools to implement such a project, which can easily be adapted to any development or human rights theme.
Unlike the pilot test of the SCREAM project in Scariff, which was financed in its entirety by the Geneva-based International Programme on the Elimination of Child Labour (which developed the model and is now promoting it world-wide), funding for the Dublin phase has been sought from different sources within Ireland. A good proportion of the funding has been provided by the National Committee for Development Education (NCDE), a government body which supports such educational initiatives in Ireland. However, finding the rest of the funds has not been easy, given the enormous number of organisations and agencies seeking funds for various activities and the sometimes strict application procedures and deadlines required by some funding agencies. Nevertheless, contributions have been received from a number of different quarters, including the Association of Secondary Teachers Ireland (ASTI), the Bishop of Killaloe and the Scariff branch of the Bank of Ireland. The proposal is still under consideration by other potential funders and it is hoped that the full amount can be raised in time for the event to take place in November.
The Scariff students are themselves involved in helping to raise funds to finance at least part of their costs of travel and accommodation. Entirely on their own initiative, they organised a Halloween disco on Friday 26 October in Ryan’s Pub & Restaurant, which kindly provided the use of the room free of charge and for which DJ Adam Ryan generously offered his services for free, enabling all the proceeds to go directly to the project. The students are planning other fundraising events over the next few weeks and it is hoped that their efforts will be generously supported by the community so that these highly motivated young people can have this unique opportunity to share with their Dublin and Belfast counterparts the fruits of what has been for them a very special experience. _____________________
The Bridge below the Town. I took a walk through the town Where in my youth I played And recalled my friends of then And wondered how they are. So much has changed, For the best, I have no doubt The green, is now a concrete slab Where once the children played, In the snow of winter Or on a summer day. I recall the old town hall In its place, is now a bank Travelling shows came regularly and played to loud applause The weekly dance we called The Hop The non-alcoholic bar It was sixpence to enter. For that we had it all The P. P. kept his eye on us. Our morals he looked after To keep us pure and free from sin. He 'd insist he brought us home.
The waters of the river then. Ran clear and clean. We swam and fished and picnicked Beside the daffodils. Our days were all summers Our nights went on and on. And when the Astor opened We danced till the crack of dawn That's now a shell of once it was, Grey and all forlorn But the memories of those happy days Are etched within its walls
Within the Forge the man. Whistled a merry tune. When the hammer hit the Anvil They made a merry tune. The coffin house has vanished It was here young couples met There was no interruption. They were protected by the blessed dead
No baker raises at the dawn. No smell of new baked bread. No beef sandwich or pink lady. There's Pizza bread instead The water of the river runs So brown and muddy now. And no longer an attraction. Is the river down below.
©Maureen Harte 1997
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