An sgeul ’s a chuid sgeulachdan

CHUIR mi an céill an seo uaireigin gu bheil beairteas de sheann sgeulachdan againn sa Ghàidhlig agus dh’fhaighneachd mi: “Dé tha ri dhèanamh leotha an-diugh?”

Fhuair mi chiad fhreagairt an riochd na nobhail Gormshuil an Rìgh le Fionnlagh MacLeòid, far a bheil sgeulachdan a’ dol ’nan caractaran ann an dòigh gu math domhainn. Tha agad ri bhith eòlach air na sgeulachdan mus còrd an leabhar gu h-iomlan riut.

Seo a-nist an dàrna freagairt, an nobhail Bheurla Archie and the North Wind le Aonghas Pàdraig Caimbeul (Luath, £8.99). Ma tha Beurla agad chan eil dad idir a tha doirbh a thuigsinn mu dheidhinn. Tha a cheart uiread de thoileachas ann ’s a tha ann an Gormshuil an Rìgh co-dhiùbh tha thu eòlach air na sgeulachdan gus nach eil.

An toiseach tha buidheann charactaran ann. Èirdsidh an t-Uibhisteach òg nach robh math san sgoil. An Gobhlachan, seann ghobha an àite, a tha toirt obair do dh’Èirdsidh an déidh “siabadh mór” anns a bheil gach nì air a bhristeadh leis a’ ghaoith. Olga Swirszczynska a thig dhan eilean a bhrideachadh nan each. Seòldair Ruiseanach, Bronowskielchev, a bha uaireigin ’na ollamh ciùil ’s nach do chuir cas air tìr on là a dh’eug Yuri Gagarin. Et cetera.

An uair sin tha an stòiridh ann. Tha i ’na turas le adhbhar, ’na odyssey, mar tha móran de na stòiridhean as fheàrr. Se an t-adhbhar gu bheil Èirdsidh seachd sgìth den ghaoith tuath a tha milleadh na h-uiread ann an Uibhist. Chual’ e gu bheil i tighinn á toll fada mu thuath ann an dùthaich an t-sneachda ’s tha e cur roimhe an toll a lorg ’s a stobadh.

An uair a bheachdaicheas tu mu thuill – an fheadhainn ás a bheil ola a’ tighinn leithid am fear ud a bh’ aig BP ann an Camas Mexico, neo am fear san ozone a tha a’ leigeil a-staigh blàthachadh na cruinne – aithnichidh tu gu bheil Archie and the North Wind ’na sgeul aotrom air làn chor mhic an duine den aon t-seòrsa ri Animal Farm neo 1984.

Se an treas eileamaid na sgeulachdan. Chan eil iad air am measgachadh ris a’ chòrr mar ann an Gormshuil an Rìgh. Tha iad comharraichte gu soilleir mar sgeulachdan, a’ cleachdadh clò ragged right seach taobh-deas-dìreach mar th’ aig a’ chòrr den teacsa. Tha sin ag obrachadh gu math. Chan eil iad a’ dol ’nan caractaran mar ann an Gormshuil an Rìgh ’s chan eil na caractaran aca a’ nochdadh sa chòrr den sgeul mar ann an Iain am Measg nan Reultan aig Iain Mac a’ Ghobhainn.

Chan eil iad ach air an innse, gu sìmplidh, le aon charactar do dh’fheadhainn eile neo le Èirdsidh dha fhéin (is toil leam sin).

Ach tha an t-ùghdar glé shoilleir mu bhrìgh nan sgeulachdan an eachdraidh mhic an duine san fharsaingeachd. “What a fabulous challenge: to build a ship that would sail on both land and sea! Wasn’t that what Gobhlachan had done all his life? Made things out of next to nothing; materials which could transform themselves according to circumstance. Grass which became beds; stones which became houses; flotsam which became furniture. Carts which doubled as hen-houses; ploughs which then served as gates and bridges; horse-shoes which also protected from all evil. All was alchemy. Words of course into stories, and stories which bent and altered time and history. He had a tale for every occasion, though it may just have been the other way round: that, like a modern spin-doctor or ancient houngan, every occasion generated its myth.”

Tha, tha a sgeulachdan fhéin, a sheanchas fhéin, aig gach sluagh, gach cànain, gach dùthaich, gach creideamh. Ged nach eil an t-ùghdar ag ainmeachadh a’ Bhìobaill, tha e ag ainmeachadh: “The raiders from the far side. From some other place. From the far side of the island. From the other side of the mountain. From outside the song. From the story which didn’t belong to us.”

Nuair a tha a sheanchas fhéin taisgte domhainn ann an inntinn sluaigh, mar Shakespeare aig luchd na Beurla, faodar pluga beag dealain a chur a-staigh leithid mar nì Aonghas Pàdraig nuair théid Èirdsidh a laighe – “To sleep, he thought. To sleep. To sleep. Perchance.” – agus tha làn dealbh-chluich air a chur a dhanns ro’r sùilean.

Rud eile tha math mun nobhail seo se mar tha na sgeulachdan air an cur gu feum na sgeòil. Mar eisimpleir, tha sgeulachd mu fhamhaire ’s mu uaimh air a mìneachadh mar seo: “The giant was Capitalism, Archie knew, and the hole was where the bodies of the poor lay scattered in the Cave of Profit where all the gold lay. They were the ones daily sent down in creels to labour for the giant. They were the ones eaten alive. Roasted on the spits.”

Chan eil ach aon ghearan agam mu Archie and the North Wind ’s tha e agam tric mu leabhraichean Beurla anns a bheil beagan Gàidhlig – nach do bhodraig duine sùil thoirt air a’ Ghàidhlig. Ciamar a tha Aonghas Pàdraig a’ cumail a-mach gur e “òrd le ighne” seach “òrd le innean” a th’ air “hammer with anvil”?

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