Very strong sense of community
I WASN’T surprised to hear that our former President Mary McAleese and her husband Dr Martin McAleese were to visit the historic Bere Island to open the impressive new Heritage Centre. Pleased, but not surprised.
It is a well-known fact that the people of Bere are nothing if not resourceful and were obviously well able to convey their pride in their homeplace to the people at the Áras. And despite the many odds they have had to contend with, islanders have managed to maintained a population of 200 — a testimony to their resilience.
An island that is estimated to be roughly the same dimensions as Manhattan — but thankfully, without its traffic — Bere has a quiet beauty and a strong sense of community that is evident in the wealth of activities community groups such as the Bere Island Projects Group provide.
Bere has a church — St Michael’s, a school — Scoil Mhichil Naofa and thanks to the vigorous efforts of the islanders, managed to retain its post office. Add to these essentials a ferry services by two separate operators all of which have combined to secure Bere’s survival.
I’ve been lucky enough to be invited to work with the school children and headmistress Deirdre O’Sullivan on a play that we plan to present this Christmas. And from that first morning when I caught the ferry across from Castletownbere, it was obvious that Bere had that quality that is so special to islands.
And while it is a mistake to look at any so-called remote and inaccessible place through rose-tinted glasses, there can be no denying that for many people — and I am one — islands have a magic that is all their own.
It’s not just the fact that you may just have found a place where “peace comes dropping slow” — there are still bills to pay even on an island. It’s the fact that any island that has managed to maintain a healthy number of inhabitants in these challenging times has developed a strong and robust community spirit.
Islanders have the same problems as human beings everywhere are prone to. But difference is that an abiding respect for each other has grown along with a deep-rooted and pragmatic realisation that while no man is an island; those who live on them never know just when they might need each other.
And it does seem that the more tolerant and supportive people are to each other, the easier and more natural such behaviour becomes.
The ferry I catch is loaded up with boxes of groceries that have been ordered by phone. Several passengers arrive early and settle down for a chat or for a quiet read of the papers. As each person arrives for the crossing, they greet those already settled.
These are more than the usual rural friendliness where strangers are acknowledged with a nod and a hello or, if driving, a casually-lifted index finger to recognise a passing car.
It’s a beautiful morning when I head out for Bere. Sunlight sparkles on small waves and seagulls swoop and scream hungrily around the boats that are moored in Castletownbere’s busy harbour I wonder what this crossing is like in the winter and if this regular crossing back and forth of sometimes angry water becomes as routine as getting in the car and turning on the ignition. Ballynakilla School was opened in 1980 and is a far cry from the hedge schools and cablachs that somehow managed to provide island children with an education.
In his excellent book Bere Island, Ted O’Sullivan says that a report issued in 1826 mentions a mud cabin, valued at IR£4 that was functioning as a school in Ballynakilla. Its teacher was Timothy O’Sullivan, whose estimated earnings were IR£15 a year. This humble institution ensured that 97 children had an education although it is hard to imagine how the hardy pupils and their teacher managed through the winters.
Today’s school is bright, warm and welcoming, full of colourful paintings art projects and photos of school projects. I am particularly taken with a photo of a rather fabulous dragon, which I am told resides in the shed, and might well find a part in our play.
We talk strategy. The children, the headmistress and I and soon come up with a story and a plan of action. We won’t have much time to implement it but such is the level of commitment — to say nothing of energy — I’m pretty confident we’ll make our performance date.
Some 10,000 years ago, a huge ice sheet covered Munster. When it melted the volume of water returning to the sea was so great that it caused sea levels to rise dramatically and as the stretch of sea now known as Berehaven filled with water, Bere Island was formed. Eventually the island was completely cut off from the mainland. Plants trees and people gradually made their mark. According to folklore, the harbour of Berehaven got its name when Owen Mór — otherwise known as The Splendid — was defeated in a great battle at Cloch Barraighe by Con of the Hundred Battles and was rescued by the sidhe Princess Eadaoin and taken to her grianan in the townland of Greenane. For reasons best known to himself, Owen fled from his fairy lover to Spain where he married the Princess Beara and eventually returned to his homeplace with her and a great army. Owen promptly named the harbour Berehaven in her honour and the name gradually became associated with the island the peninsula and the Barony of Beara.
The importance of this strategic harbour has resulted in Bere Island playing a significant part in historic events. Carew, the sacking of Dunboy Castle, O Sullivan Beara’s march to Leitrim, the building of Martello Towers and other fortifications and the presence of the British fleet at various points in history.
Throughout all these vagaries, the islanders lived their lives as best they could, sometimes suffering the effects of famine and hostility, sometimes enjoying peace and the bounty of the sea until eventually in September of 1938 and as a part of the Anglo-Irish Agreement the so-called treaty ports — of which Berehaven was one — were to be handed over to the Irish Government. This also guaranteed Ireland’s neutrality in the imminent Second World War.
Population on Bere Island declined rapidly after the famine but picked up again when major works started on the forts in 1898. But in 1926 the closure of the important American fish market meant ruin for the fisherman and once again, a dramatic decline in population. Between 1946 and 1951, population was reduced by 31%, as it had been after the famine.
By the seventies, boat building, fishing and tourism had helped to revive the areas fortunes somewhat. Today the population of Bere Island is at a respectable 200, boosted several times a year by the influx of those attending Fr Laurence Freeman’s World Community for Christian Meditation events, which take place regularly on the island. “There is an incredible community spirit here,” Theresa Hobbs, who manages the Heritage Centre, tells me Theresa and her family have lived on the island for ten years and when her husband injured his back in a fall recently, she had first hand experience of just how important that support could be.
“We had any amount of texts and emails asking how he was,” she said. “We had to get to the hospital in Bantry and someone said they would pick our son Tadgh up from school. Another neighbour told us not to worry about our animals; they’d come by and feed them if we had to stay overnight. It was incredible. Everything was taken care of for us” I had been looking forward to meeting with Bere Island man John O’Sullivan, a much-loved and respected local historian who contributed to radio documentaries, folklore histories and was in the process of contributing to a history being compiled by the Bere Island Women’s Writers Group.
John, a man with a great love of his homeplace had kindly agreed to share some of his considerable knowledge with me..
It was with great sadness and regret that I learned of his passing the day before our planned meeting. My condolences to his widow Bernadette and his extensive family and friends. Go raibh sonas sioraí go deo aige.
www.bereisland.net
