⇦ Noon as Noal: 'Banceyr Syn Africkey

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Manx	English
Banceyr ’Syn Africkey	A Banker in Africa
Lurg dou lhaih ny skeealyn ec “Breagagh” mychione yn Africkey, as yn Sambia er lheh, stroo-hene foddee dy beagh suim ec ny lhaihderyn er y traa dobbree mee ayns yn Africkey Shiar, as Yugandey as Keniey er-lheh.	After I read the story by “Breagagh” about Africa, and Zambia in particular, I suppose maybe the readers would be interested in the time I worked in East Africa, and Uganda, and especially Kenya.
Anchasley rish Breagagh, cha row eh orrym dy gholl ersooyl.	Unlike Breagagh, I didn’t have to go away.
Tra va mee my ghuilley aeg, va mee ec scoill ayns Sostyn, er y fa dy row fys ec my ayr nagh beagh obbyr erbee dooys ayns Mannin.	When I was a young boy I was at school in England, because my father knew that there wouldn't be any work for me in the Isle of Man.
Er yn oyr shen, va mish as my vraar as my huyraghyn currit ersooyl, as ynsit ry-hoi bea ayns Sostyn as yn Ardreeriaght Ghoal.	For that reason, I and my brother and my sister were sent away, and educated for a life in England and the British Empire.
(S’yindyssagh eh dy vel, ny yeih, my vraar as mee-hene nyn n’yees cummal ayns Mannin, as s’mian lesh ’nane jeh my huyraghyn dy heet dy valley myrgeddin marish e dooinney).	(How wonderful it is that, nevertheless, my brother and myself both live in Mann, and one of my sisters wishes to come home too with her husband).
Lurg[1] scoill, ren mee Shirveish Ashoonagh ayns Armee Goal.	After school, I did Natioanl Service in the British Army.
[1] Lurg] text; [Lurg da]
Va mee my hidoor Albinagh, hoshiaght ayns y “Freiceadan Dhu”, ny, ass nyn Gaelg, yn “Arrey Doo”.	I was a Scottish soldier, first in the “Freiceadan Dhu”, or, in our Manx, the “Black Watch”.
Ny lurg, haink mee dy ve fer-oik ayns ny Cameronians (she rejiment nagh vel ayn jiu) as maroo hie mee gys Keniey. S’cooin lhiam eh my dy row eh jea.	After, I became an officer in the Cameronians (it is a regiment that does not exist today) and with them I went to Kenya. I remember it as if it were yesterday.
Hie shin ayns sidoor-vaatey[2] voish Bahrein (raad va shin roie) gys Bombay, ’syn Indjey, as eisht hie shin gys Mombasa.	We went in a troop ship from Bahrein (where we were previously) to Bombay, in India, and then we went to Mombasa.
[2] sidoor-vaatey] from the word order this seems to be a borrowing from Irish, with the evident meaning ‘troop ship’, for which we might expect, in Manx; [baatey sidooragh], or perhaps [lhong sidooragh], or [saagh sidooragh].
Ta rah yn ynnyd shen foast ayns my stroanyn.	The pungent stink of that place is still in my nostrils.
Va mee yn liass-er-oik dy Phoagaght (deputy baggage officer) as orrym va’n currym jeh gleashaghey poagaght yn vatallion voish yn lhong gys yn traen.	I was the deputy baggage officer and I had the duty of moving the battalion’s baggage from the ship to the train.
As va mooarane jee ayn!	An there was a great deal of it!
Aghterbee, hie shin er traen voish Mombasa gys Nairobi raad va’n station ain, she 360 meeillaghyn eh voish Mombasa gys Nairobi, as ta’n chooid smoo jeh’n raad-yiarn trooid yn Phairk Ashoonagh enmyssit Tsavo, lome-lane dy lionyn as beishtyn elley. Va shin troailt fud ny hoie.	Anyway, we went by train from Mombas to Nairobi where our station was, it is 360 miles from Mombasa to Nairobi, and the majority of the railway is through the National Park called Tsavo, full to the brim with lions and other beasts. We were travelling all night.
Va mee ayns y Cheniey car kiare meeghyn derrey haink mee er-ash gys Sostyn dy ’aagail yn Armee.	I was in Kenya during (for) four months until I came back to England to leave the army.
Huitt mee ayns graih rish Keniey as roish my daag mee yn cheer aalin shen, ren mee loo dy n’yinnin goll reesht gys Keniey.	I fell in love with Kenya and before I left that beautful country I swore that I would go back to Kenya.
Tra daag mee yn Armee, hie mee gys Olloo-Scoill as ghow mee, ny lurg, staartey lesh Barclays Bank D.C.O.	When I left the Army, I went to University and I took, afterwards, a job with Barclays Bank D.C.O.
She ennym yn vanc shen Barclays Bank International Ltd. jiu, agh ta reddyn er chaghlaa neayr’s ny laghyn shen.	The name of the tat bank is Barclays Bank International Ltd. today, but things have changed since those days.
(Ta ny lettyryn D.C.O. shassoo son ny focklyn ass y Vaarle “Dominion, Colonial and Overseas”, agh va sleih ayn va gra dy ren ad shassoo son “Da fir Doo, Cullyrit as Elley”).	(The letter D.C.O. stand for the words in English “Dominion, Colonial and Overseas”, but there were people who were saying that they stood for “for Black people, Coloured and Others”).
Nish ta yn banc shen ’nane jeh ny tree bancyn smoo ayns Keniey.	Now that bank is one of the three largest banks in Kenya.
As daa vlein ny s’anmey, va mee er raad gys Keniey reesht.	And two years later, I was on (my) was to Kenya again.
Car yn chied ghaa vee va mee (as va ben aym eisht) ayns Nairobi.	During the first two months I (and I had a wife then) was in Nairobi.
Ayns ny laghyn shen va Nairobi ny balley beg.	In those days Nairobi was a small town.
Dy jarroo, v’eh gollrish balley fillym “Western”, lesh bayryn dy yoan, as cabbil.	Indeed, it was like a Western film town, with roads of dust and horses.
Va’n ardane smoo scanshoil jeant feer lhean dy voddagh cairt tayrnit liorish dew chyndaa mygeayrt ayns y raad.	The most important platform was made very wide so that a cart drawn by oxen could turn around in the highway.
As va’n “Long Bar” (Barr Liauyr) ayns y thie-aaght “New Stanley” (Stanlagh Noa) dy bunneydagh troggit myr dy voddagh dooinney er cabbyl markiagh gys y varr as geddyn jough gyn tar lheimmey voish dreeym e chabbyl.	And the “Long Bar” in the New Stanley hotel was originally built so that a man on a horse could ride to the bar and get a drink without dismounting from the back of his horse.
Agh ta’n Thie-Aaght Stanlagh Noa er ve aa-hroggit neayr’s ny laghyn shen. Cha nel yn Barr Liauyr yn un red edyr.	But the New Stanley Hotel has been rebuilt since those days. The Long Bar is not the same thing at all.
Aghterbee, lurg daa vee, va shin er y raad dys Yugandey, gys balley mooar chymskyloil (industrial) enmyssit Jinja. V’eh far enmyssit yn “Manchester jeh Africkey Shiar”, er y fa dy row Thie-Greas[3] mooar ayns shen, as dy row ram Sostnee voish Lancashire gobbraghey ayns y Thie-Greas.	Anyway, after two months, we were on the way to Uganda, to a big industrial town called Jinja. It was nicknamed the “Manchester of East Africa”, because there was a big clothing factory there, and because many English from Lancashire were working in the clothing factory.
[3] thie-greas] — evidently ‘clothing factory’ from [greas] ‘industry in making cloth’.
Ren[4] ny Africkanee ayns y voayl shen loayrt y Vaarle lesh blass Lancashire.	The Africans in that place spoke English with a Lancashire accent.
[4] Ren] — [Va] would be expected here.
Va Manninagh ny ghaa ayns shen ... S’cooin lhiam dooinney enmyssit Quilliam, agh ta fys aym dy dooar eh baase blein ny ghaa ny lurg.	There were several Manx people there ... I remember a man called Quilliam, but I know that he died a year or two after.
Va shin ayns Jinja car un vlein.	We were in Jinja for one year.
Choud’s va shin ayns shen, hooar Keniey seyrsnys (va Yugandey seyr hannah).	Whilst we were there, Kenya got independence (Uganda was independent already).
Ren yn Armee Yugandagh irree magh (as va shin ayns y vean jeh, er y fa dy row thieyn-sidoor yn Armee ayns Jinja).	The Ugandan army rebelled (and we were in the middle of it, because the barracks of the army were in Jinja).
Va “Strike” ayns mastey ny hobbreeyn-banc, as va “Run” er yn vanc dy Varoda.	There was a strike amongst the bank-workers, and there was a run on the Bank of Varoda.
Ta shen dy ghra, va banc ayn enmyssit yn “Bank of Baroda” (she banc Indjinagh eh) as un laa reagh ooilley ny clientyn echey dy hayrn magh yn argid oc.	Meaning, there was a bank called the “Bank of Baroda” (it is an Indian bank) and one day all the clients arranged (decided) to withdraw their money.
Choud’s va ny clientyn tayrn magh nyn argid, va ny bankyn elley ayns y voayl cur argid gys y Vank dy Varoda.	Whilst the clients were withdrawing their money, the other banks in the place were sending money to the Bank of Varoda.
As va ny clientyn goaill nyn argid, as cur ee stiagh ayns y vanc ain!	And the clients were taking their money and putting it into our bank!
Myr shen va’n argid goll mygeayrt ayns kiarkyl.	So the money was going around in a circle.
Shimmey skeeal oddin insh.	Many’s the tale I could tell.
Ayns y vanc, va mee yn coontyseyr, dy jeeragh fo’n Reireyder.	In the bank, I was the accountant, directly under the manager.
V’eh ’nane jeh ny currymyn aym dy reaghey yn argid-laue da’n vanc.	It was one of my duries to arrange the cash for the bank.
Nish, ga dy row Jinja ny voayl chymskyloil, va mygeayrt y mysh cheer raad va cadee aasit ec ny Yugandee.	Now, although Jinja is an industrial place, there was, around about it, countryside where cotton was grown by the Ugandans.
She Busoga va ennym ny cheerey shen.	Busoga was the name of that countryside.
B’oayllagh yn sleih-cheerey shen freayll nyn argid ayns tuill ’syn ooir.	The country people used to keep their money in holes in the earth.
Myr shen, v’eh broigh, as b’oayllagh ny snienganyn gee yn argid-phabyr.	So, it was filthy, and the ants used to eat the paper money.
Tra haink fouyr chadee, d’eeck yn Lught-Reill Cadee ny eirinee ayns argid-laue dy bollagh.	When the cotton harvest-time came, the Cotton Authority paid the farmers entirely in cash.
Cha ren ad ymmyd jeh sheckyn edyr.	They didn’t use cheques at all.
As hooar ad yn argid voish y vanc.	And they got the money from the bank.
As v’eh yn staartey aym dy gheddyn yn argid.	And it was my job to get the money.
Boallin goll lesh jeih lorree gys y Lught-Reill Argid, as cheet er ash marish ny lorreeyn laadit dy lane lesh argid.	I used to go with ten lorries to the Money Authority, and come back with the lorries fully loaded with cash.
Yinnin ceau laghyn ayns y chamyr-lajer ain, g’eeck magh argid.	I would spend days in our strong room, paying out money.
As paart dy laghyn ny s’anmey, harragh ooilley yn argid er ash choud’s cheauagh ny fir eh.	And some days later, the money would all come back whilst the men would spend it.
As laadagh shin ny lorreeyn reesht as ghoghe shin ad er ash gys y Lught-Reill Argid.	And we would load the lorries again and we would take then back to the Money Authority.
Agh, roish my dod shin shen y yannoo, v’eh orrin dy choontey yn argid.	But, before we could do that, I had to count the money.
Coontey! Va shin coontey fud ny h-oie.	Counting! We were counting all night.
Ny lurg, raghin thie as ghoin oonlaghey, cho broighe v’eh.	After, I would go home and take a wash, so filthy was it.
Va Jinja ny boayl aalin.	Jinja was a beautiful place.
V’eh er Lough Victoria, ny Victoria Nyanza, myr v’eh enmyssit bleantyn er dy henney.	It was on Lake Victoria, or Victoria Nyanza, as it was called years ago.
Ayns Jinja, ta eas mooar ayn, raad ta’n Awin Nile goaill toshiaght, enmyssit yn “Ripon Falls”.	In Jinja, there is a large waterfall, where the River Nile begins, called the “Ripon Falls”.
As ny sodjey sheese, ta doour feer vooar ayn enmyssit yn “Owen Falls Dam”, raad va mooarane dy electraght er ny yannoo da’n clane Africkey Shiar.	And further down, there is a very large resevoir called the Owen Falls Dam, where there was a lot of electricty made for the whole of East Africa.
Va sheshaght Vluggan-Coshey Rugbee ayns shen, enmyssit Nile R.U.F.C.	There was a Rugby Football Team there, called Nile R.U.F.C.
Ta kuse dy gheiney ayns Mannin nish va olteynyn ny sheshaght shen.	There are a few men in the Isle of Man now who were members of that team.
Va Doug Roberts jeh “Manx Marine” ny oltey.	Doug Roberts from “Manx Marine” was a member.
As mee-hene, dy dooghyssagh.	And myself, naturally.
Va Idi Amin oltey neesht.	Idi Amin was a member too.
She Earroo Hoght mie v’eh.	He was a good number eight.
Tra heiy Idi ayns y scrum, va fys ec dagh ooilley ’er dy row eh ayns shen.	When Idi pushed in the scrum everyone knew that he was there.
As haink mee ny whaiyl Colin Fick, yn leighder ayns Straid Atholl, er y vagher Rugbee shen.	And I met Colin Fick, the lawyer in Atholl Street on that Rugby field.
Va Colin gobbraghey ayns Kampala, agh cha row fys aym er shen.	Colin was working in Kampala, but I didn’t know that.
Va mooarane dy yough iuit yn oie shen!	There was a great deal of drink drunk that night!
Lurg Jinja, hie shin gys Masak, balley beg cheerey ayns Buganda, raad va mee Reireyder yn vanc.	After Jinja, we went to Masak, a village in Buganda, where I was the bank manager.
She caffee va aasit ayns shen.	It was coffee that was grown there.
As v’eh orrym dy chur shilley er ny eirinee dy yeeaghyn er nyn stoyryn dy chaffee.	And I had to visit the farmers to look at their stores of coffee.
Immanin keeadyn dy veeillaghyn dy chur shilley orroo.	I would drive hundreds of miles to visit them.
Va un eirinagh ayn, haink dy ve carrey mie dou.	There was one farmer, who became a good friend of mine.
Dagh Jerdein, immanin huggey.	Every Thursday, I would drive to him.
Tra roshin ayns shen, er ny choodaghey liorish joan ruy (va ny raidjyn ooilley jeant ass joan) ragh shin ayns e chabbane, as iuagh shin jough Yugandagh enmyssit Waragi.	When I would arrive there, covered with red dust (the roads were all made out of dust) we would go in his cabin, and we would drink a Ugandan drink called Waragi.
She gollrish Poteen Yernagh eh,[5] agh jeant ass corranyn-bwee.	Like Irish poteen it is, but made from bananas.
[5] She gollrish Poteen Yernagh eh] ‘It is like Irish Poteen’ — [T’eh gollrish Poteen Yernagh] would be expected here.
Ghoghe eh ersooyl crackan dty veeal.	It would take away the skin of your mouth.
As ny s’anmey, yn obbyr jeant aym, raghin thie scoorit, joanagh, agh maynrey.	And later, me having done the work, I would go home pissed, dusty, but happy.
Loayrt mychione raidjyn, ta skeeal ayn mysh Keniagh ayns Sostyn.	Talking about highways, there is a story about a Kenyan in England.
V’eh gimman er cheu aggairagh y raad she sthappit v’eh ec meoir-shee.	He was driving on the wrong side of the highway, stopped by the police he was.
“Gow my leshtal, y Vaghteyr,” dooyrt y dooinney, “Cha nel mee cliaghtiti rish gimman er raidjyn gollrish shoh.”	“Excuse me, Ambassador,” said the man, “I’m not used to driving on highways like this.”
“Oh,” dooyrt yn meoir-shee, “Cre’n cheu jeh’n raad ta shiu gimman er ayns Keniey?”	“Oh” said the police officer, “Which side of the highway do you drive on in Kenya?”
“Yn cheu share,” dooyrt yn Keniagh.	“The best side,” said the Kenyan.
Lurg shey meeaghyn, daag shin Yugandey, as hie shin gys Keniey.	After six months, we left Uganda, and we went to Kenya.
Dobbree mee ayns Kitale, Nairobi, Thika, as buill elley.	I worked in Kitale, Nairobi, Thika, and other places.
Haink mee ny whaiyll Reg Bridson ayns Kitale, as ymmodee Manninee elley.	I met Reg Bridson in Kitale, and many other Manx people.
Cha noddym goll er son dy bragh, ga dy oddin.	I can’t go on forever, although I could.
Shegin dou freayll beggan sy stoo da colloo elley ny s’anmey.	I must keep a little bit of material for another column later.
Haink shin er ash gys Europey lurg shey bleeantyn ayns Africkey Shiar, as erreish da tree bleeantyn, fy yerrey hoal, haink shin dy valley, gys yn sleih ain-hene, raad, fy yerrey hoal, dod mee cosney my arran.	We came back to Europe after six years in East Africa, and after three years, finally, we came home, to our own people, where finally I could earn my bread.
Agh, gyn scansh da shen, ta mee foast ayns graih rish Keniey.	But, without regard to that (nevertheless?), I am still in love with Kenya.
As stroo-hene, ta Breagagh foast ayns graih rish Sambia?	And, in my opinion, Breagagh is still in love with Zambia?
“BRANLAADAGH”	“BRANLAADAGH”
1977	1977