Noon as Noal: Manninagh Jeeaghyn My Hiar II'

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Manx English
“Cha nel ny chiarnyn gobbragh chioee?” dreggyr mish. “The lords never work?” I answered.
“As cre ta shoh ta mee jannoo nish mannagh nee obbyr ee?” “And what is this I am doing now if it isn’t work?”
“Ta, she obbyr ee, as obbyr chreoi neesht,” as eshyn dy moal. “Yes, it is work, and hard work too,” he says slowly.
“As mannagh vel ny ‘tuanyn’ gobbragh eisht, ass cre’n voayl t’adsyn cheet ta jannoo yn obbyr daue? “And if the ‘tuans’ don’t work then, from where do those come that do the work for them?
Vel ad nyn gheiney doo ass yn Africkey, ny ‘cooleeyn’ ass Yn Sheen, ny foddee, vel ad cheet ass Yn Java hene?” dooyrt mish dy chorree. Are they black men from Affrica, or ‘coolies’ from China, or perhaps, do they come from Java itself?” I said angrily.
“Cha nel, Cha nel! Ta fys mie aym nagh nee shen myr t’eh!” dooyrt y flah beg. “No, no!” I know well that it isn’t like that!” said the little prince.
Fakin dy row lane thanvaanys ersyn kyndagh rish shen v’eh er chlashtyn as er n’akin, dooyrt mee; Seeing that he was absolutely astonished because of what he had heard and seen, I said;
“Myr ta mee hene fakin, ta bun yn ’ockle shen ‘tuan’ sy Vaarle ‘lord’. “As I myself see, the meaning of that word ‘tuan’ in English is ‘lord’.
Nee shen myr t’eh eisht, ny dyn ’sy ghlare ayds?” Is that how it is then or not, in your language?”
“She” as eshyn. “Yes” he said.
“Nish,” dooyrt mee, “Ayns cre’n aght ta shiuish jannoo ymmyd jeh tra ta shiu loayrt rish deiney baney — nee myr ‘mister’, ny ‘sir’ ny ‘lord’ eh?” “Now,” I said, “In what way are you using it when you speak to white men— is it like ‘mister’, or ‘sir’, or ‘lord’?”
“She myr ‘lord’ ta shin jannoo ymmyd jeh.” as eshyn. “Ta shen dy ghra, dooinney berchagh, ny shellooder hallooin mooar, beaghey ayns thie stoamey, as ram argid echey.” “It is like ‘lord’ that we use it.” He said. “That is to say, a rich man, or great landowner, living in a grand house, and having a lot of money.”
Loayr y flah roishyn as dooyrt eh: “Cha nel mee[1] toiggal y chooish shoh dy mie edyr. The prince spoke on and he said: “I don’t understand this subject well at all.
[1] mee] text gives
[me]
Ta ram Nederlandee as deiney baney elley cheet gys y cheer ain hene as ta shin genmys ad ooilley ‘tuan’, agh cha nel mee toiggal shen nish, cha nel mee toiggal cre’n fa ta shin genmys ad ‘chiarn’ sy ghlare ain. A lot of Netherlanders and other white men come to our own country and we call them all ‘lords’, but I don’t understand that now, I don’t understand why we call them ‘lord’ in our language.
Er dyn y laa dy daag mee thie my ayrey ta mee er n’akin ymmodee fir vaney gobbragh dy chreoi gollrish ‘cooleenyn’ er lhongyn Sostynagh as nish cha nel mee credjal dy vel ad ooilley nyn jiarnyn edyr!” Since the day I left my father’s house I have seen many white fellows working hard like ‘coolies’ on English ships and now I don’t believe that they are all lords at all!
Va e choraa chionn as feayr reesht myr dreggyr eh mee: His voice was rapid and cold again as he answered me:
“Derrey yn traa daag mee thie my ayrey, she myr shen va mee smooinaghtyn as credjal, agh tra higym er ash voish Mecca cha bee adsyn ’sy lught-thie aym smooinaghtyn er yn aght cheddin rish foddey — verrym my ’ockle dhyts er shen!” “Until the time I left my father’s home, that is thinking and beleiving like that, but when I come back from Mecca those in my family won’t be thinking in the same way for long — I’ll give my word on that!”
Cha dod y “Flah” smooinaghtyn er veg agh er y chooish shen rish ooilley’n jurnaa ain gys Jeddah. The “Prince” couldn’t think about anything but that subject for all our journey to Jeddah.
Yn laa daag eh y baatey ain dy gholl roish gys Mecca dooyrt eh rhym: “Lhisagh my vooinjer hene er n’akin eh tammylt liauyr er dy henney! The day he left our boat to go on to Meccah he said to me: “My own people ought to have seen it a long while ago!
Cha nel ny fir vaney nyn yeeaghyn er chor erbee! T’ad nyn gheiney gollrooin hene. The white fellows aren’t gods in any way! They are men like ourselves.
T’eh er ve roish ny sooillyn oc rish bleeantyn agh cha naik ad eh!” It has been before their eyes for years but they never saw it!”
Va mee[2] ayns Jeddah reesht ayn mean Fouyir ’sy vlein 1909 as va’n cheshaght-crauee va shin er n’ghoaill ass Yn Java goll dys y thalloo ayns baatyn beggey. I was in Jeddah again in September in the year 1909 and the religious group we had taken from Java were going to the land in little boats.
[2] mee] text gives
[me].
Va mish hene throng dy liooar as cha dug mee monney geill daue ec y traa shen, ny da ny deiney Arabagh ass Jeddah hene va shooyl ayns shoh as ayns shen mygeayrt y lhong ain. I myself was pretty busy and I didn’t pay much attention to them at that time, or to the Arab men from Jeddah itself who were walking here and there around our ship.
Shen myr v’eh eisht tra cheayll mee coraa taitnyssagh voish fer ennagh doo, briaght jeem, “Kanys ta shiu?” That is how it was then when I heard a delightful voice from some black fellow, asking me “How are you?”
Hrog mee my chione as honnick mee dooinney aeg, mysh yn eash aym pene, ny hassoo kiongoyrt rhym. I lifted my head and I saw a young man, about my age, standing before me.
Ny ghooinney ‘gorrym’ v’eh (negro), rooisht dy slane er lhimmey jeh eaddagh bane runt mygeayrt ny lheshyn echey. He was a black man, completely naked except for white cloth round about his hips.
V’eh jeh mean-ardjid[3], troggit dy cheyl, agh v’eh baghtal dy liooar dy row eh feer lajer as thoallee. He was of medium height, raised slenderly, but it was obvious enough that he was very strong and sturdy.
[3] mean-ardjid]
[mean-yrjid]
Va’n oaie echey taitnyssagh as mong eddrym er. His face was delightful and had a light grin.
Lhean y mong tra dooyrt mee rish ’syn Arabish “Moghrey mie dhyt hene wooinney, kys t’ou laa jiu?” The grin widened when I said to him in Arabic “Good morning to yourself, man, how are you today?”
“Lane vie, gura mie ayd,” dreggyr eshyn ’sy vaarle. “Very well, thank you,” he answered in English.
“Kanys t’ou er n’ynsaghey lheid y Vaarle ghlen?” vrie mee jehsyn. “How have you learned such perfect English?” I asked him.
“Ayns schoill-hushtal (mission), ayns cheer my ghooie, faggys da’n Somali,” as eshyn. “In a mission school, in my native land, near to Somalia,” he said.
“Quoi va’n sushtallagh dynsee oo lhied y Vaarle?” dreggyr mish. “Who was the missionary who taught you such English? I answered.
“R’ou ec y schoill feer foddey?” “Were you at the school very long?”
“Rish jeih blein,” as eshyn. “Neayr’s yn traa va mee queig bleeaney d’eash. “For ten years,” he said. “Since when I was five years old.
Dooyrt ad nagh vaik ad rieau fer erbee ren gynsaghey y Vaarle cha tappee as mish, as cha by ghoillee eh dou ee y ynsaghey edyr, agh s’beg yn ymmyd t’ee er ve dou derrey’n laa t’ayn jiu,” as eshyn. They said that they never saw anyone who learned English as fast as me, and it wasn’t difficult for me to learn it at all, but little use it has been to me until today,” he said.
“Cre’n aght haink oo dys yn cheer fuilltagh shoh?” dooyrt mish rish. “As cre t’ou jannoo ayns shoh?” “How did you come to this bloody country?” I said to him. “And what are you doing here?”
“Haink traghtallee-sleab er niart dys my valley veg cheerey er oie as cha dod shinyn shassoo nyn oi rish foddey. “Slave-traders came by force to my village in the night and we couldn’t stand against them for long.
Cha row agh shleiyghyn ain as va gunnaghyn ocsyn, varr ad ram sleih ’sy valley veg cheerey ain as va ymmodee er nyn lhottey. We only had spears and they had guns, they killed a lot of people in our village and there were many wounded.
Hug ad lhieu shin gys slyst ny marrey as hooar ymmodee basse fo raad, my ayr hene ny mast’oc, as b’egin dooin eshyn y hreigeil rish cheu yn raad. They took us to the sea coast and many died on the way, my own father among them, and we had to abandon him by the side of the road.
Va shin fo raad rish tree shiaghteeyn derrey raink shin y cheayn as eisht hie shin er baatyn as haink shin gys shoh, gys Jeddah. We underway for three weeks until we reached the sea and then we got on boats and we came here, to Jeddah.
Chionnee delleyder mish as ta mee foast gobbragh da, agh cha nel yn obbyr ro chreoi. A dealer bought me and I am still working for him, but the work isn’t too hard.
Ta my voir foast ayns Jeddah neesht as ta caa aym dy chur shilley urree ny cheayrtyn. My mother is still in jeddah too and I have a chance to visit her sometimes.
My sister is here too and she is seventeen years old now, she lives in a little town about seven miles outside Jeddah itself, but I don’t see her often. My sister is here too and she is seventeen years old now, she lives in a little town about seven miles outside Jeddah itself, but I don’t see her often.
Ta mee maynrey dy liooar agh cha nel mee seyr, ta mee my sleab.” I’m happy enough but I’m not free, I am a slave.”
Ghow ooilley shoh yn gheay ass ny hiaullyn! All this took the wind out of my sails!
Cha geayll mee rieau y lhied ayns ooilley’n seihll aym, ga dy row ram sleabyn ayns Yn Arabaght, Yn Chooid smoo jeu voish Yn Africkey meanagh, agh cha ren mee rieau taggloo rish fer erbee jeu! I never heard the like in all my life, although there were many slaves from middle Africa, but I never spoke to any of them!
Jeeaghyn ersyn, v’eh dy baghtal ry akin nagh row eh feer hrimshagh, er lhimmey, foddee, dy baillish ve seyr. Looking at him, it was obvious to see that he wasn’t very sad, except, maybe, that he would like to be free.
Honnick mee dy row tree cronyn er e vollee hoshtal as va’n cummey j’eu gollrish tree kerrooyn-eayst, as vrie mee jeh, “Cre’n fa ta ny cronyn beggey shen er dty vollee?” I saw that there were three scars on his left eyebrowand the shape of them was like three quarter moons, and I asked him, “Why are those little scars on your eyebrow?”
“Ta lhied y chowrey er dagh ooilley sleab ayns shoh,” dooyrt eh, “Dy mennick er yn oaie, ny er y wannal, ny er y chleeau, boayl ennagh t’ad dy aashagh ry akin. “There are such marks on every slave here,” he said, “Often on the face, or on the neck, or on the chest, somewhere they are easily seen.
Ta fys ec dagh ooilley Arabagh dy re sleabyn adsyn as ny cowraghey shoh orroo.” Every Arab knows that those with these marks are slaves.”
Va my chione lane jeh shen va mee er lhaih ayns “Bwaag Naim Thobm” as vrie mee jeh, “Vel yn dooinney s’lesh oo dy dty chustey dy mennick ny dyn?” My head was full of what I had read in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” and I asked him, “Does the man who owns you whip you often or not?”
Doshil eh e hooillyn dy lhean as dreggyr eh, “Cha nel edyr! She sleih ooasle ad ny Arabee, ta mee gee ny mast’oc as ta mee my oltey jeh’n lught-thie ocsyn, ta mee foast my sleab, agh cha nel ad rieau dy my chustey er chor erbee! He opened his eyes wide and he answered, “Not at all! The Arabs are noble people, I eat amongst them and I am a member of their family, I am still a slave, but they never whip me at all!
Ny yei shen as ooilley, ta mee my sleab as ta mee goaill foddeeaght ny yei seyrsnys.” Nevertheless, I am a slave and I long for freedom.”
Hrog eh e choraa dy ard, as dooyrt eh rhym “Ewah!” (Ta!) He raised his voice loudly, and he said to me
Ta’n dooinney ta mee leshyn geamagh orrym as shegin dou goll roym. T’eh gra ‘tar’ as ta mee cheet. “Ewah! (Yes) The man who owns me calls me and I must go.
Ny yei, ta mee maynrey dy liooar myr ta!”[4] He says ‘come’ and I come. Yet, I am happy enough though!”
[4] myr ta]
[my-ta]
Smooinaghtyn er y sleab maynrey shid ec y traa t’ayn nish, ymmyodee bleeantyn ny lurg, er lhiams dy vel shin bunnys ooilley nyn sleabyn da red ennagh, thombaagey ny mraane, argid ny obbyr! Thinking of that happy slave at the present time, many years later, I think that we are all slaves to something, tabacco or women, money or work!
Quoi j’in oddys gra lesh cree foshlit as firrinagh, “Ta mee seyr!” Who of us can honestly (with a true and open heart) say, “I am free!”
Ayns Jerrey Fouyir 1911 va mee ayns Hankow[5] ’sy Cheen, yn ard valley ta ny lhie er yn awin Yangtze-Kiang. In October 1911 I was in Hankow in China, the city that lies on the Yangtze-Kiang river.
[5] Hankow] alternative spelling ‘Hankou’ was merged in 1949 with Wuchang (Comish’s Wu Tang) and Hanyang to form the city Wuhan, the capital of Hubei province.
She’n DIOMED v’ayn reesht as mish my ard-choagyrey aynjee. It was the Diomed (ship name) again and I was a head cook on her.
Un astyr, lurg va’n obbyr ain jeant, hie mish as y guilley baatey (bosun) Ted graham (ny ghooinney Lerphull-Yernagh) as fer elley, er y traie. One evening, after our work was done, I and the bosun, Ted Graham (a Liverpool-Irishman), and another fellow, went ashore.
Va’n Chogeill Anoaylltagh (The Foreign Concession) ny lhie er y cheu yesh, lesh thieyn stoamey ayn, straaidyn lheaney as shooylaghyn braew jeeaghyn er yn awin, as Wu Tang tessen yn awin. The Foreign Concession lay on the right side, with grand houses, broad streets and fine promenades looking on the river, and Wu Tang across the river.
Hooyl shin rish tammylt mygeayrt ayns shen agh cha naik shin monney va foayssagh dooin. We walked for a while around there but we didn’t see much that was of value to us.
Dy lheah ren shin cosheeaght seose straid Sheenagh dooie as cre’n straid v’ayn! Soon we walked up a native Chinese street and what a street it was!
Coon, jingit dy slane lesh Sheenee, dagh ooilley ’nane jeu gymmyrkey errey trome, geamagh dy ard dy lhiggey’n raad daue, dagh ooilley ghooinney tarroogh as jannoo red ennagh er lhimmey j’in hene! Narrow, completely crowded with Chinese, every one of the carrying a heavy load, shouting out loud to let them through, every man busy and doing something except for ourselves!
Dy insh yn irriney, va shinyn tarroogh dy liooar freayl ass yn raad ocsyn va laadit dy trome. To tell the truth, we were busy enough keeping out of the way of those who were heavily laden.
Hooyl shin rish foddey as eisht, fakin nagh row cowrey erbee ayn dy row cowrey erbee ayn dy row shin cheet gys kione y traid, hyndaa-shin er ash da’n lhong reesht. We walked for a long way and then, seeing that there wasn’t any sign that we were coming to the end of the street, we returned back to the ship again.
Ta mee er ve shiaulley mygeayrt y theihll rish ny smoo na daeed blein[6], son y chooid smoo ’sy Niar Foddey, as ta mee er n’akin ram buill foayssagh. I have been sailing around the world for more than forty years, for the most part in the Far East, and I have seen many interesting places.
[6] daeed blein] text gives
[daeed vlein]
Agh er my hon hene, cha nel boayl erbee ’sy theihll shoh cha aalin as taitnyssagh as Ellan Vannin Villish Veg Veen raad va mee ruggit as troggit ayns lhing y Venrein Victoria ayns Balley Chashtal. But as for myself, there is no place in this world as beautiful and delightful as The Dear Sweet Isle of Man where I was born and raised in the time of Queen Victoria in Castletown.
Ga dy daink mee gys y cheer shoh dy obbraghey ayns ny meainyn airh, ta my chree foast, as bee eh dy bragh, er ash ayns Mannin, raad ta dagh ooilley Vanninagh corrym rish dagh ooilley Vanninagh elley! Although I came to this country to work in the gold mines, my heart is still, and will be forever, back in the Isle of Man, where every Manx person is equal to every other Manx person!
Juan y Comish John Comish
Kirkland Lake, Kirkland Lake,
Ontario. Ontario.
Oie Houney 1958. November 1958.
Footnote — The figures for the 1951 Census of the Dominion of Canada Bureau of Statistics of those who gave Scottish Gaelic as their mother tongue were as follows:— Cape Breton Island 6,101; Nova Scotia Mainland 6,578. The figures for the Nova Scotia Mainland have decreased greatly since then but Cape Breton Island is still a stronghold of the language.
Haink ny shennayraghyn oc voish Gaeltaght ny h-Albey, ram jeu voish “Eilean Leodhas”, an t-eilean fada, gagh loch is allt fas nach gann am bradan.”[7] Their ancestors came from the Highlands of Scotland, many from “Eilean Leodhas”, an t-eilean fada, gagh loch is allt fas nach gann am bradan.” (the Isle of Lewis, the long island, where there is scarcely a loch or stream without a salmon.)
[7] “Eilean Leodhas”, an t-eilean fada, gagh loch is allt fas nach gann am bradan.”] this section is in Scottish Gaelic, not Manx.