Now let’s begin with a bit of context. I love learning Irish.
That being said, there are certain aspects of the language which- at their very mention- start ripples of dismay through my classmates. Eyes widen, eyebrows disappear into hairlines, sighs are heavy, some attempt to jump from windows… These things becoming like the gaming ‘easter egg’; inside jokes that the language plays with those who’re most fluent in it, while baffling the rest of us part-timers.
For the mental, physical, and spiritual safety of Hibernophiles everywhere who have decided to learn Irish (Hibernophiles, I’ve been reliably informed, are people who love Irish and Irish culture, despite the fact that it sounds like someone who likes hibernating a bit too much), I thought it was important to alert them to these proverbial ‘Jack-in-the-Boxes’ of the Irish language.
1. Nothing is simple
This is a general point that you need to grasp before you pick up a text book, listen to a CD or go to a class. Remember when you learnt French at secondary school? It was governed by a simple set of rules, but most of which followed the basic language rules you were used to. Surely learning Irish will be like that?
Yeah… No.
2. Yes No?
Speaking of yes and no… You can’t. I knew this fact about Irish when I started learning it- ‘Irish has no words for yes and no’. But I took it more like a trivia myth that would be mostly debunked when I started learning the language- like how ‘Eskimos have fifty words for snow’. (To see this myth apparently debunked, clickhere.) (If you are a specialist Inuitophile and you have evidence to the contrary, please write it on a stamped addressed envelope and place it under a rock in your garden.)
While some words can sometimes be used in place of yes and no- Tá and Níl, Is ea and Ní hea, and so on- none of these are even close to being grammatically correct for most questions. For instance, if I asked you if you had gone to the pub last night, the only acceptable responses would be ‘I did go’ or ‘I didn’t go’. Apart from anything else, this leads to having to learn every single possible verb variation to respond to a question. Almost wishing you were back with the Eskimos?
3. Is that a dress on you?
What name is to you? How many brothers are at you? In irish, a lot of things are on, at, or to you rather than just being yours. For instance, I don’t HAVE one brother… There’s one brother AT ME. I’m not hungry… There’s a hunger on me. It’s a cerebral, poetic way of speaking… but it does baffle the English syntax. Not bad… just different.
4. Irregular verbs
According to my sources, Irish has ELEVEN irregular verbs. No more, no less. This rule is maintained by all Irish teachers, regardless of the fact that other verbs don’t follow the regular rules. Here is a conversation between myself and a pineapple who wants to understand irregular verbs. (This may or may not have happened).
Pineapple: This verb doesn’t follow the rules. So, this verb is irregular?
Me: Well sure… I mean, no, it’s not an irregular verb. It just doesn’t follow the regular rules. But that doesn’t make it irregular.
Pineapple: But surely if it’s not regular, it’s irregular. Irregular is the only opposite of regular.
Me: No Pineapple, because they aren’t the official irregular verbs. There are only eleven.
Pineapple: Can’t the numbers change? I mean, if a verb isn’t regular, wouldn’t calling it irregular help to avoid confusion?
Me: NO PINEAPPLE. THERE ARE ONLY ELEVEN!!
5. Pronunciation
Pronunciation is different in every language. However, Irish, having had its original script converted into the Latin alphabet by looks rather than sounds, has more discrepancies than many. (That’s my theory anyway; whenever I have problems I blame a combination of the patriarchy and colonialism). In what other language would ‘bhfuair’ be pronounced ‘wur’? Or dheachaigh be pronounced ‘ya-hi’?
I’m sure a grasp of common pronunciation will come in time… maybe ten to twenty years of practice will do it.
6. Regional accents
In Britain, we are obsessed with regional accents. Having lived ‘Ooop North’ in Lancashire for Uni, and currently living with a Yorkshirean Linguist, I’ve been party to many of the great debates of our time. Because, ultimately, when we get down to it, is it Lunch or Dinner? Where does Tea come into all of this? And wtf is supper? When we’ve worked out what meal it is, do we fancy a bread roll, a bap, a bun, a barm, a batch, or a bread cake? (Yes, bread cake.)
Sometimes British regional accents have different words for things, and definitely different pronunciation- the bath and grass conversation rages to the end of time. But in Irish, they take it to a different level. Things aren’t just said differently- they’re spelt differently. And yes, I know that technically taffled is spelt differently from tangled, but (apologies to my Yorkshirean Linguist), taffled is neither recognised by Microsoft word nor the English dictionary. Long story short, there is an official version of English, and whether we like it or not, use it or not, at least we can accept that it exists.
In Irish, ‘Conas atá tú?’ and ‘Cad é mar atá tú?’ are completely equally valid ways of saying ‘How are you?’ but one is in an Ulster dialect and the other is in (arguably) a Munster dialect. There is no ‘official’ dialect, no ‘standard Irish’ as such.
Is this a brave new world, free of what my Yorkshirean Linguist tells me is called ‘accent-ism’? Perhaps. Is it dang confusing? ‘Tis indeed.
7. A-one, a-two, a-onetwothreefour
There are different words of numbers depending on whether you’re counting people, counting things, or just plain old counting for the hell of it.
8. Years
Also years. You use a different word for ‘years’ depending on how many years you’re referring to. Yes. Yes I know.
9. Titles
My inner feminist rebels. As does my outer feminist. Irish has, ever so shockingly (or not) for any language in this world, a very slight and very occasional tendency to be ever so slightly misogynist.
You’ll probably know Irish names for having O’ or Mac before them. It’s like saying ‘son of’ or ‘of the family of’. So, O’Sullivan is ‘son of the Sullivan family’. Women take Ní instead of O’ and Nic instead of Mac, making Ní Sullivan the daughter of the Sullivan family. So far, so binary, but I can accept it.
For Mr, men used An tUasal, which is a sort of honorific. Women have the choice between Bean, or Iníon. Unfortunately for my feminist soul, Bean is the literal word for woman/wife, and Iníon is the literal word for daughter.
Weep.
10. It’s great craic
Forget everything I just said and go back to learning Irish. Nothing is ever simple in life anyway, and who even wants to say yes and no? Stuff can be at me and on me all you like, irregular verbs are a whatever, and pronunciation can be passed off as ‘like, sooo cute’. Ditto regional dialects. I never even liked counting anyway. And yes, the titles system is a little misogynistic, but as someone who has to argue with alarming regularity with people about my desire to use the title Ms and not change my name when (if) I’m married, who the heck are we English speakers to talk?
Irish is beautiful, lyrical and poetic. Just watch out for the Easter eggs, as they say.
thequarefolk 