Originally written on 17 March 2025
Last year, a friend recommended a book to me. "It's a hard read", she warned, glancing at me sideways, as if sizing me up for whether I was of the right calibre for a read of this kind.
I purchased the book. I felt I had to. That I was duty bound to.
When the book arrived, it was bigger and heavier than I imagined, with big writing and lots of pictures inside. Think coffee table style book. Which is where it sat in my house for a while before it was relegated to the storage unit inside our cylindrical baby blue foot stool.
Unread.
The soft padded tufted lid placed firmly atop.
That book was called The Truth Behind the Irish Famine. Written by Kerryman Jerry Mulvihill, his dedication inside indicates the deep need for his work:
"The Irish people who passed away during the famine have a story that needs to be told and fully understood. It is the utmost importance that their suffering was not in vain. May they humble us and remind us how fortunate we are today. Let them awaken us to the suffering that still exists within entire populations. They will never be forgotten." - Jerry Mulvihill
By pure mistake, I carted the book with me last November whilst co-hosting a retreat in Scotland. It was hidden amongst a whole load of Positive News magazines that I brought with me for a visioning exercise. I was shocked when one of the participants held it up and placed it on our altar for healing.
"What's that doing here?" I exclaimed, in embarrassment and disgust.
When I returned home, I placed the book back in the footstool. Still unread by me.
This weekend, I felt called to unearth the book from the footstool where it lay beneath the same pile of Positive News magazines. Cradling my warm cup of tea, I began to read. I made it to page 6 before the tears began arrive. The book was setting the scene for the series of catastrophic events that led to the famine. With each and every page I turned, my tears became more plentiful, bouncing off the big shiny pages. Blurring my vision.
But it was page 18 that got me. Hook, line and sinker. The "ferocious and devastating" Penal Laws of 1695. The book wasn't to blame. The Penal Laws get me every time. They catch me in my throat and fill me with dread and fear. Their purpose was complete eradication of the Irish and Ireland's ancient ways.
It was hard to read on. With a hot drop of tea in my cup, I made it to page 44, past the "Heads of Power & People of Interest" section. Robert Peel, John Russell, Charles Edward Trevelyan, Queen Victoria (ah feck you, ya famine queen, sorry if that is offensive to you, but I had to let it out.)...The London Times reporting of the Irish plight with ridicule and satire, John Mitchel, Daniel O'Connell, George Wilkinson...
...flicking forward to Asenath Nicholson, an American philanthropist who, in 1844, travelled Ireland mainly on foot, and, traumatised by the suffering she witnessed of the Irish people, wrote back home to her native New York for assistance.
I couldn't go any further. I had read enough. The lump remains in my throat. The suffering and trauma still feels real. The wound is rising to the surface now. Begging to be healed.
Today is St Patricks Day as you most likely know. On this day in 2021, I wrote a poem in the form of a cultural enquiry and contemplation for myself and my Irishness.
As everyone celebrates being Irish, what does this really mean?
So I share it with you today as my gift to you. That you may continue this contemplation by inserting any word of your choice in replacement of "Irish" if you so choose.
Who am I when I'm Irish today?
I am Eimear.
I am Dubliner.
I am native to Ireland.
Her boggy river waters wind through me.
Words flow forth from Her mouth as She speaks.
Undammed.
Untamed.
Renewed.
Revealing the eons of pain, of sadness that seeps through Her land.
Saturated.
Rising to the surface in great big bubbling crescendos of…
…acknowledgment? Forgiveness?
…of love?
Blown away by wild Atlantic winds that have shaped Her rugged coastlines.
My roots, they’re spread across Her landscapes.
Timeless. Old. Wise.
Connected to the oral lore of these ancient times.
Who am I when I’m Irish today?
Click here or on the video below to enjoy the full narrated version.
Who are you when you’re Irish today?
With love,
Eimear x