Ùrachadh mu Dheireadh 14/07/2017
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TIOTAL
A bheil naidheachd bheag agad a tha a' sealltainn taobh 'daonna' a' chuspair speisealta agad? - Rosalind McClean
EXTERNAL ID
AB_SGI_06_ROSALIND_MCCLEAN_Q_04
ÀITE
Inbhir Nis
SIORRACHD/PARRAIST
INBHIR NIS: Inbhir Nis 's Am Bànath
DEIT
2009
LINN
2000an
CRUTHADAIR
Rosalind McClean
NEACH-FIOSRACHAIDH
Am Baile
AITHNEACHADH MAOINE
41046
KEYWORDS
co-labhairtean
eilthireachd
claistinneach

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Mar phàirt de Thilleadh Dhachaigh 2009, chaidh co-labhairt eadar-nàiseanta trì latha - Buaidh Chruinneil na h-Alba - a chumail ann an Taigh-chluiche Eden Court, Inbhir Nis, bho 22-24 Dàmhair. Thàinig sgoilearan, eachdraichean is eòlaichean eile còmhla gus deasbaireachd fhallain a bhrosnachadh mu eachdraidh imrich agus a' bhuaidh a bha aig muinntir na h-Alba thall-thairis.

Rinn Am Baile agallamhan le grunn luchd-labhairt rè na co-labhairt. San earrainn chlaistinnich seo, tha an Dr Rosalind McClean a' freagairt na ceiste:

"A bheil naidheachd bheag agad a tha a' sealltainn taobh 'daonna' a' chuspair speisealta agad fhèin?"

'New Zealand became a well-known entity in New Zea-, in many Scottish- By the 1860s many Scots had a, somebody they knew, a neighbour or a relative had gone to New Zealand, that was true for nearly all of Scotland apart from some of the remote Western Isles, perhaps, but in the 1840s, twenty years earlier, it was an unknown entity, and it's surprising how many went to New Zealand when it first became a British colony in the, in 1840, and there was a great deal of fear, especially on the part of women who were going.

There's many stories. For example, getting into the boat way up in Easter, Eastern Sutherland, in a place called - east Caithness, places like Brora, to go down to the ports. I mean down to, down to Edinburgh. Not Edinburgh. I just can't remember the name of the port.

Interviewer: Leith?

Yes, down to Leith to get the boat down to London, because there weren't many ships from Glasgow in those days. Stories such as the young father jumping on the little boat, and grabbing the baby, and sitting on the boat to make the wife come with him, when she's farewelling her family. And so I've collected many of these stories for wom-, about women's reluctance in those days, even though many of the networks about New Zealand increasingly came through women who didn't necessarily migrate. But there's one anecdote that really does strike me that's about a woman called Mary Anne Archibald, from Forfarshire. Quite a lot of people came from the region of Angus in the 1840s because the linen industry was declining and they had lost their jobs. Her husband was a flax dresser. But they too had got assistance to get the boat from Leith to London, and on the way to London she had a miscarriage at quite a far stage in pregnancy, on the boat, and when she got to London she had a collapse. I know that because there are medical records in the New Zealand country records and she was sent to a lunatic asylum. And there's a note from her husband saying that he wants to go to New Zealand anyway, and he's going to take the children, and he's never going back to Scotland. And that's what he does; he leaves his wife in the lunatic asylum with the promise that he'll send money for her when he can, and off he goes with the children.

And the, the hos-, the ships' lists makes it seem as though she died and that's what the records seem to infer, because there's a two year old called Mary Anne as well. But it's the two year old that dies on the voyage, not surprisingly. But the mother is taken back; the Brechin Poor Law authorities come down and get her, because they're responsible, and she's taken up to Brechin and she works there for two years, and I found a letter from her. And it actually almost makes me cry when I think of it; I don't know whether she wrote it or whether she dictated it to somebody, but you can hear her voice. I have a friend, a Scottish friend in New Zealand, who's read it for me into a tape, and you can hear it. The spelling is phonetic and you can hear, she's saying, 'I want to get a passage on the Marner'. The Mariner was a ship, and even though she doesn't know her husband's address, she says, 'I can't write to him. I don't know his address', she has enough understanding of how to play into the processes in the 1840s, two years afterwards, to get herself some assistance to get out to New Zealand. No help from the family. She applies to the secretary of the New Zealand company who's in Edinburgh - Mr McGlashan - and she says, 'Will you help me?' You know, she says, 'I've been working, nursing a woman and I've pleased, but I want to see my family.' And she creates a situation for herself to get out to New Zealand to find her family. And she's eventually reunited with them. And that, that story just amazed me - that, that facility for a woman to go through that, and yet without family help to organise her own passage, for a four month journey to find her family again.

So, those sorts of stories really touch me, and also the way that connections happened. I've found a number of stories where a goldminer will be roving in New Zealand, and he'll meet somebody from the same village, and in his, he'll, he'll tell this person, 'Do you know what? I've heard from my mother, and she's heard from her sister in Edinburgh, that your mother at the prayer meeting was praying for you, and saying, please could she hear from her son in New Zealand because he never wrote, and would the Good Lord look after him?' And then from that prayer in the prayer meeting the messager goes from Edinburgh to Ayrshire, to New Zealand, and the man gets told about his mother praying for him. And I thought, 'This is a world', you know, 'before the internet, before telephones, and people not even writing messages still getting through.' And that intrigued me, about those processes of connections at that huge distance that operate a hundred and fifty plus years ago, between people in New Zealand and in Scotland, so it doesn't surprise me that emigration takes off when those sort of networks happen.'


EACHDRAIDH-BEATHA

Tha Rosalind McClean, a cheumnaich o Oilthighean Dhùin Èidinn, Sealan Nuadh agus Dhùin Èidinn, Alba, na leughadair aig Oilthigh Waikato, Sealan Nuadh. Ann an 2004, na ball de sgioba sgoilearan de Shealan Nuadh agus de dh'Alba, fhuair i caidreachas urramach Marsden gus coimhead air pàtranan imrich agus suidheachaidh ann an Aotearoa, Sealan Nuadh, agus dìleaban na h-imrich seo a rannsachadh. Tha a h-obair acadamaigeach air fhiosrachadh le a h-eòlas sna 1990an nuair a shiubhail i fad is farsaing, a' fuireach còmhla ri a teaghlach òg sa Mheadhan-Ear, ann an Roinn Eòrpa agus ann an Ameireaga a Tuath. Tha i air obair a dhèanamh aig urras carthannach agus mar sgriobhadair neo-eisimileach, agus tha i fhathast na neach-tagraidh airson còirean luchd-imrich is luchd-fògarraich.

Airson stiùireadh mu bhith a’ cleachdadh ìomhaighean agus susbaint eile, faicibh duilleag ‘Na Cumhaichean air Fad.’
’S e companaidh cuibhrichte fo bharantas clàraichte ann an Alba Àir. SC407011 agus carthannas clàraichte Albannach Àir. SC042593 a th’ ann an High Life na Gàidhealtachd.
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A bheil naidheachd bheag agad a tha a' sealltainn taobh 'daonna' a' chuspair speisealta agad? - Rosalind McClean

INBHIR NIS: Inbhir Nis 's Am Bànath

2000an

co-labhairtean; eilthireachd; claistinneach

Am Baile

Scotland's Global Impact

Mar phàirt de Thilleadh Dhachaigh 2009, chaidh co-labhairt eadar-nàiseanta trì latha - Buaidh Chruinneil na h-Alba - a chumail ann an Taigh-chluiche Eden Court, Inbhir Nis, bho 22-24 Dàmhair. Thàinig sgoilearan, eachdraichean is eòlaichean eile còmhla gus deasbaireachd fhallain a bhrosnachadh mu eachdraidh imrich agus a' bhuaidh a bha aig muinntir na h-Alba thall-thairis. <br /> <br /> Rinn Am Baile agallamhan le grunn luchd-labhairt rè na co-labhairt. San earrainn chlaistinnich seo, tha an Dr Rosalind McClean a' freagairt na ceiste: <br /> <br /> "A bheil naidheachd bheag agad a tha a' sealltainn taobh 'daonna' a' chuspair speisealta agad fhèin?"<br /> <br /> 'New Zealand became a well-known entity in New Zea-, in many Scottish- By the 1860s many Scots had a, somebody they knew, a neighbour or a relative had gone to New Zealand, that was true for nearly all of Scotland apart from some of the remote Western Isles, perhaps, but in the 1840s, twenty years earlier, it was an unknown entity, and it's surprising how many went to New Zealand when it first became a British colony in the, in 1840, and there was a great deal of fear, especially on the part of women who were going. <br /> <br /> There's many stories. For example, getting into the boat way up in Easter, Eastern Sutherland, in a place called - east Caithness, places like Brora, to go down to the ports. I mean down to, down to Edinburgh. Not Edinburgh. I just can't remember the name of the port.<br /> <br /> Interviewer: Leith?<br /> <br /> Yes, down to Leith to get the boat down to London, because there weren't many ships from Glasgow in those days. Stories such as the young father jumping on the little boat, and grabbing the baby, and sitting on the boat to make the wife come with him, when she's farewelling her family. And so I've collected many of these stories for wom-, about women's reluctance in those days, even though many of the networks about New Zealand increasingly came through women who didn't necessarily migrate. But there's one anecdote that really does strike me that's about a woman called Mary Anne Archibald, from Forfarshire. Quite a lot of people came from the region of Angus in the 1840s because the linen industry was declining and they had lost their jobs. Her husband was a flax dresser. But they too had got assistance to get the boat from Leith to London, and on the way to London she had a miscarriage at quite a far stage in pregnancy, on the boat, and when she got to London she had a collapse. I know that because there are medical records in the New Zealand country records and she was sent to a lunatic asylum. And there's a note from her husband saying that he wants to go to New Zealand anyway, and he's going to take the children, and he's never going back to Scotland. And that's what he does; he leaves his wife in the lunatic asylum with the promise that he'll send money for her when he can, and off he goes with the children. <br /> <br /> And the, the hos-, the ships' lists makes it seem as though she died and that's what the records seem to infer, because there's a two year old called Mary Anne as well. But it's the two year old that dies on the voyage, not surprisingly. But the mother is taken back; the Brechin Poor Law authorities come down and get her, because they're responsible, and she's taken up to Brechin and she works there for two years, and I found a letter from her. And it actually almost makes me cry when I think of it; I don't know whether she wrote it or whether she dictated it to somebody, but you can hear her voice. I have a friend, a Scottish friend in New Zealand, who's read it for me into a tape, and you can hear it. The spelling is phonetic and you can hear, she's saying, 'I want to get a passage on the Marner'. The Mariner was a ship, and even though she doesn't know her husband's address, she says, 'I can't write to him. I don't know his address', she has enough understanding of how to play into the processes in the 1840s, two years afterwards, to get herself some assistance to get out to New Zealand. No help from the family. She applies to the secretary of the New Zealand company who's in Edinburgh - Mr McGlashan - and she says, 'Will you help me?' You know, she says, 'I've been working, nursing a woman and I've pleased, but I want to see my family.' And she creates a situation for herself to get out to New Zealand to find her family. And she's eventually reunited with them. And that, that story just amazed me - that, that facility for a woman to go through that, and yet without family help to organise her own passage, for a four month journey to find her family again. <br /> <br /> So, those sorts of stories really touch me, and also the way that connections happened. I've found a number of stories where a goldminer will be roving in New Zealand, and he'll meet somebody from the same village, and in his, he'll, he'll tell this person, 'Do you know what? I've heard from my mother, and she's heard from her sister in Edinburgh, that your mother at the prayer meeting was praying for you, and saying, please could she hear from her son in New Zealand because he never wrote, and would the Good Lord look after him?' And then from that prayer in the prayer meeting the messager goes from Edinburgh to Ayrshire, to New Zealand, and the man gets told about his mother praying for him. And I thought, 'This is a world', you know, 'before the internet, before telephones, and people not even writing messages still getting through.' And that intrigued me, about those processes of connections at that huge distance that operate a hundred and fifty plus years ago, between people in New Zealand and in Scotland, so it doesn't surprise me that emigration takes off when those sort of networks happen.'<br /> <br /> <br /> EACHDRAIDH-BEATHA<br /> <br /> Tha Rosalind McClean, a cheumnaich o Oilthighean Dhùin Èidinn, Sealan Nuadh agus Dhùin Èidinn, Alba, na leughadair aig Oilthigh Waikato, Sealan Nuadh. Ann an 2004, na ball de sgioba sgoilearan de Shealan Nuadh agus de dh'Alba, fhuair i caidreachas urramach Marsden gus coimhead air pàtranan imrich agus suidheachaidh ann an Aotearoa, Sealan Nuadh, agus dìleaban na h-imrich seo a rannsachadh. Tha a h-obair acadamaigeach air fhiosrachadh le a h-eòlas sna 1990an nuair a shiubhail i fad is farsaing, a' fuireach còmhla ri a teaghlach òg sa Mheadhan-Ear, ann an Roinn Eòrpa agus ann an Ameireaga a Tuath. Tha i air obair a dhèanamh aig urras carthannach agus mar sgriobhadair neo-eisimileach, agus tha i fhathast na neach-tagraidh airson còirean luchd-imrich is luchd-fògarraich.