I am a native Irish speaker from Gaoth Dobhair in Co Donegal — Ireland’s largest Gaeltacht. I grew up there during the 1970s and 1980s, immersed in a way of life that is now all but gone: one rooted in self-sufficiency, communal spirit, and the daily use of the Irish language.
At the time, most households kept their own cow, hens, roosters, and geese — producing milk, buttermilk, cheese, and eggs. Families cultivated potatoes and vegetables in small plots fertilised with healthy seaweed and cow manure. Local fishermen supplied fresh fish from spring through winter. Without widespread refrigeration, the catch was preserved using salt to last through the winter months.
When meat was needed, two local butchers provided top-quality cuts from local livestock. Sheep farming was widespread, offering both employment and sustenance. The community was tightly bound — everyone knew everyone for miles around.
(Eamonn Coyle)
In the evenings, neighbours gathered in two local storytelling houses for oíche airneáil. These nightly gatherings were rich with stories, conversation, and endless cups of tea. Irish was the only language spoken; many older residents spoke no English at all.
There was no crime. Doors were left unlocked. I recall my father routinely leaving the keys in the ignition of his minibus.
(Eamonn Coyle)
Work on the land and in the bog followed a seasonal rhythm. From April to September, families toiled together. Easter Monday marked the beginning of turf-cutting season. The tradition of meitheal — neighbours helping neighbours — was strong. Groups of five or six men would assist each household in turn, rotating efforts across the community in a spirit of shared labour.
(Eamonn Coyle)
That world has changed beyond recognition.
The Irish language is now in serious decline in Gaeltacht regions. Cow-milking at home has vanished. Few households keep poultry or grow vegetables. Chemical-laden supermarket produce has replaced what once came from the land. Evenings of storytelling — the oíche airneáil — have been replaced by WhatsApp messages and scrolling screens.
Irish is poetic and musical, yet I know the challenges it posed in the past. For many Gaeltacht emigrants arriving in Britain during the mid-20th century, a lack of English left them vulnerable to ridicule and exclusion. A misplaced sense of shame took hold. The language itself was wrongly blamed, when in fact, effective bilingual education could have empowered them.
Porturlin, Co Mayo. (Eamonn Coyle)
Today, while the language weakens in the Gaeltacht, Irish is finding new life in urban areas through Gaelscoileanna and state investment. Yet this revival has not yet translated into daily cultural practice.
The traditional Gaeltacht way of life — communal, resilient, rooted in bog, land, and language — was deeply fulfilling, though rarely recognised as such at the time. It has faded quietly, almost invisibly.
That world is gone — and it is not coming back.
Slievemore Abandoned Village, Achill. (Eamonn Coyle)
*You can connect with Eamonn Doyle on his website, as well as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter / X, and LinkedIn.