A young migrant comes from Clonbur to Allenstown

The 29th March 1940 in Clonbur, Co Galway was a typical March day, cold and blustery. But my family - the Lydons - hardly noticed the cold and the wind because it was on that day that myself along with four brothers and mother and father, sadly left the rugged mountainous countryside of Galway and boarded the buses for the rich fertile lands of Meath. We were among the 112 people leaving a close-knit community of fishermen and smalll farmer, one of 24 familites.

My parents' hearts were heavy. They were uprooting themselves from the countryside which had been home to them and their forefathers which had been home to them and their forefathers for hundreds of years.

Although a beloved land, the spectres of poverty were constantly lurking in the background, forcing my parents to make that hard decision to move to where there was a chance of eking out a reasonable livlihood which would provide in the future a better chance for us, their five children.

I was seven years old at the time. That March morning, I was very excited and experienced none of the sadness of the adults. I couldn't wait to see the fat cows and bullocks of which I had heard so much.

The bus journey was never-ending. Many times I wanted to get off and race the bus to the next corner but I didn't dare misbehave because my parents were so sad and quiet.

Most of the adults spoke in hushed tone. Little did I know that that was the last time I was to hear only Irish spoken. Soon I was to hear a 'foreign language' and would play a big part in my future life.

After what seemed an eternity we arrived in the Craig-Waller estate of Allenstown. There were people there to meet us and even though I was only seven I could sense the hostile atmosphere around us. There was one family, however, who did give us a great welcome - the Pigotts, a Church of Ireland family. They brought us in and gave us tea. It was much appreciated.

A number of gardai paced up and down but that did not stop the harsh comments hurled at us in a strange language. It was years later when I learned of the riots and unrest that preceeded the arrival.

I couldn't wait to see our new house. My parents had already told us of the cosy Land Commission house surrounded by acres of soil that hadn't been broke by the point of a plough for decades. I was not disappointed.

Inside our new abode, a welcome fire burned brightly in the hearth. Nearby was a bucket of spring water. Being the youngest I was allowed to quench my thirst. To me everything was just awesome. There was a week's supply of provisions and a year's supply of turf. But the sound of my mother's sobbing dampened my excitement somewhat. However, the next day everybody cheered up when we was three cows, two heifers, 12 sheep, one sow, two bonhams, 21 fowl, a horse, farm and dairy implements, not to mention the portion of land already ploughed for us.

It was a fine day and my brothers and I had a great time exploring the fields while my parents awaited the truck from Galway carrying the furniture without the 'settle bed'! The next day my parents collected the horse and cart. We were beginning to settle down.

Life was hard in those early years but the people from Clonbur were more than used to hard back-breaking work. Even us children had to do our share. I worked on the bog, weeded the garden, picked stones and scutch grass. I was, in fact, a general dogsbody for my family but I didn't mind.

After a week in my new surroundings I started school. The school I left behind in Clonbur was a small one-teacher school. Here in Bohermeen it was much bigger - a four teacher school. We walked, all five of us accompanied by my father on the first day. I had no English, although the older siblings had a couple of words, so it was difficult for me at the beginning.

Gradually I picked up a few words. My earliest memory is of using the few words of English I had in the schoolyard when I was asked how many sisters I had. I replied four - Meotie (Martin), Johnny, Mickey and Paddy. When my new friends burst out laughing I realised I had mixed up deirfiuracha (sisters) and dearthaireacha (brothers). After that I learned very fast, attended Mercy Secondary in Kells and Carysfort where I trained as a primary school teacher. Most of my career was teaching with the Loreto sister, vice-principal and subsequently princpal.

I was very happy there. I truly enjoyed my childhood in Allenstown. Our parents protected us form hostile comments and attitudes from some of the Meath people. As the years passed the move proved to be a success. This was due mainly to the industry, courage and the determination to 'make a go of things' by our parents, relations and friends from Clonbur.

It is only fair to point out that the careful planning, material and advisory assitance given to us by the Land Commission was a great boost.

The older generation kept very much to themselves and learned little English. They were content but often in our house and in our neighbours' houses I listened to them talk about the life they left behind in Clonbur, the beautiful, tranquil scenery, the fishing, the shooting and the craic. They rarely mentioned the hard times. Despite my tender years, I was aware of their lingering sadness. In fact, many of them went back home to be buried.

The younger generation fared better. As the years passed, we buried the axe with the people of Meath and integrated very well with them. Some of us inter-married and became true, adopted natives.

Indeed, many times we were proud to carry the Meath flag but even in the euphoria of Meath victories we never did, or never will, forget our western roots.

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