‘Is iad teorainneacha mo theanga teorainneacha mo dhomhain’ - Ludwig Wittgenstein Nuair a thug mé cuairt ar an Chatalóin i gcéaduair, tumadh isteach mé i dteaghlach Catalónach mo chéile. Is ann a d’fhoglaim mé cad é mar breall a bhí orm riamh anall agus a thuig mé an áit don chéad uair. B’ait liom fós an teanga úr sin acu, agus chloígh mé go docht le Caistílis na hArdteiste (canúint na gCaistíleach) ar feadh tamaill. Ach ní thiocfadh liom riamh aithne a chur ar an Chatalóin ar an dóigh sin. Ní haon náisiún í an Spáinn ach bailiúchán de náisiúin, agus do roinnt mhaith Catalónach, ‘sé an t-aon difear atá idir an Spáinnis agus an Fhraincis (nó teanga iasachta ar bith eile) ná gur cuireadh iachall orthu í a labhairt ar feadh na mblianta, fad is a bhí a dteanga féin á cur faoi chois. B’éigean domh roinnt mhaith ama a chaitheamh ann leis an mhéid sin féin a thuiscint. Ní féidir Catalanisme (An Catalanachas), ná seny agus rauxa na gCatalónach (stuaim agus a mhalairt, go beacht) a thuiscint trí mheán aistriúcháin ón Caistílis - agus níorbh fhéidir liomsa ach chomh beag. Ní féidir misneach agus neart an phobail seo a aistriú ná fotheidil a chur leis an mheall mór daoine a thagann le chéile sa chomharsanacht chun an misneach sin a léiriú sna túir mhóra dhaonna úd. Is ionann an teanga agus an pobal; is ionann an teanga agus an cultúr. Tá siad doscartha, agus níl in aistriúchán ar bith ach macalla ar mhacalla den fhírinne. Ritheann sé anois liom, mar sin, go mairim go pointe in aistriúchán de chuid na hÉireann. ‘Séard atá caillte sa tír seo - ‘séard atá caillte i gcuid mhaith den domhan - is san aistriúchán a cailleadh é. Go hiondúil nuair a fhéachaim le Catalóinis a labhairt, baintear siar as daoine go bhfuil ‘guiri’ (sórt masla do thurasóir aineolach) i ndiaidh dua a chaitheamh len í a fhoghlaim, seachas iachall a chur ar lucht na háite Béarla a labhairt. Agus an t-ionadh laghdaithe, séard a fhaighim uathu ná teacht isteach nach bhfaighfeá riamh gan an iarracht a dhéanamh agus an meas sin a léiriú ar dtús. Tá póstaer ar bhalla mo champais in Ollscoil Barcelona a deir go dtugann gach teanga blas eile den domhan duit. Táimse tumtha go hiomlán anois - gach rang, gach aiste, gach scrúdú agus gach comhrá trí mheán na Catalóinise nó na Caistílise - agus ar bhealach is saol úr ar fad é seo agam. Ag an am céanna, braithim nach bhfuil sa ‘domhan’ sa bhaile ach an Ríocht Aontaithe, na Stáit, Ceanada agus an Astráil, maidir le comhbhá chultúrtha, roghanna eisimirce nó áiseanna nuachta ar ard-chaighdeán. Domhsa, pé ar bith, b’éigean domh teanga eile a fhoghlaim le tuiscint nach féidir an domhan a aistriú, agus gach uair go bhféachaim le rang Béarla a mhúineadh, bíonn imní orm go ndéanfaí an Chatalóinis, leis, a aistriú amach anseo, agus go mbeidh lámh agam féin sa scéal. Ar a laghad, eisceacht mé sa tslí is gur fhoghlaim mé an Chatalóinis ar chor ar bith, agus ní bhraithim chomh dona céanna dá bharr sin. “The limits of my language are the limits of my world.” - Ludwig Wittgenstein When I first visited Catalonia I was dropped into the deep-end of the Catalan household of my partner, where all my preconceptions of Spain were corrected and all my misunderstandings explained. The new tongue was odd, and I stuck to my guns with my Leaving Cert castellà (Castilian Spanish) for the time being. But I could never have understood Catalonia that way. Spain is not a nation but a conglomerate of nations, and for many Catalans all that differentiates Spanish from French, or any other foreign language, is that it’s been forced upon them for so many years during which their own tongue was repressed. This took time and many repeated visits to learn. One cannot truly understand Catalanisme, or the seny (prudence and level-headedness) and rauxa (anarchic recklessness) in the essence of Catalan people, through a Castilian translation, and nor could I. When neighbourhoods come together and create Castellers, the monumental human towers which so symbolise the strength and perseverance of a people and culture, there is no apt dubbed version. The language is the people, and is the culture. They are inseparable, and all else is but a translation, a reflection of a reflection of the truth. I’ve become aware then, that to some extent I’ve lived in a translation of Éire. What’s been lost of Ireland, and of much of the world, has been lost in translation. Most times I open my mouth to speak Catalan, I’m met with surprise that a “guirí” (derogative for maladjusted tourist-types) has taken the time to learn it, and doesn’t just demand that all others speak English. When the surprise passes, I’m met with a trust that cannot be achieved without that initial effort and respect. A poster in my faculty at the University of Barcelona reads “amb més llengües et menges més món” - with more tongues you eat more world. I’m currently in total immersion, with all classes, essays, exams and everyday interactions in either Catalan or Castillian, and I’m gaining another life in a sense. Meanwhile, I’m increasingly of the impression that the “world” back home is mainly limited to the UK, USA, Canada and Australia as far as cultural affinity (or emigration options and quality news coverage) go. For me, at least, it took learning another language to appreciate the world that can’t be translated, and each time I sit down to do give an English class I worry that Catalonia too will some day become a translation, and that I’ll have played a part. Perhaps it’s in being the exception to the rule in learning Catalan that I feel mitigated. 17
TCD Multilingual 2015
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