Waipu – sgeulachd iongantach (1)
Às dèidh an t-siubhail agam a dh’Astràilia san t-Samhain, chaidh mi a Shealainn Nuadh, agus an sin ‘s e baile beag Waipu, Eilean a Tuath, a bha am measg nan ceann-uidhe a bu chudromaiche dhomh. Carson? Uill, ‘s e ceann-uidhe sònraichte a bh’ ann do Ghàidheil eile, mu 175 bliadhna air ais. Ach cha do ghabh iad idir an t-slighe dhìreach… Agus mar sin, bidh mi a’ sgrìobhadh mun dèidhinn thairis air dà artaigil. Seo sgeulachd tarraingeach mu cheannardas cruaidh, dhaoine dàna agus na soithichean fiodha bunanta aca.
Feumaidh sinn a dhol air ais a dh’Ulapul aig toiseach den 19mh linn. Bha duine òg à Asainte ann, air an robh Tormod MacLeòid, a bha na thìdsear san sgòil-eaglais an sin mu 1815. Duine foghlaimte a bh’ ann, le MA à Obar Dheathain is Bonn Òr airson Feallsanachd Moralta, agus bha e air Diadhachd a thòiseachadh ann an Dùn Èideann cuideachd. Ach dh’fhàg e an cùrsa is e a’ creidsinn an dà chuid gun robh an eaglais cus fo bhuaidh nan uachdaranan, agus gun robh na ministeirean fhèin ro shaoghalta, chan ann diadhaidh gu leòr – bha esan airson tilleadh dha na prionnsapalan teann Calvin is Knox.
Agus san dreuchd mar thidsear ann an Ulapul cha robh e slaodach le càineadh den aon seòrsa, gu h-àraidh an aghaidh ministeir an àite. Aig an aon àm, bha MacLeòid a’ searmonachadh air a cheann fhèin, le a theachdaireachd làidir neo-strìochdail, agus coltas drùidteach air – bha e àrd, dèanta, le guth cumhachdach – agus a chliù a’ sìor fhàs am measg muinntir an àite, ged nach ann san eaglais stèidhichte. Às dèidh dha a bhith dà bhliadhna san sgòil, chaill e an obair, agus b’ fheudar dha obair mar iasgair a ghabhail ann an Inbhir Uige.
Thòisich e ri meòrachadh mu eilthireachd a Chanada, mar a rinn mòran eile sa Ghàidhealtachd aig an àm, san dòchas gum biodh cùisean na b’ fheàrr thall an sin. Bha an t-iasgach air a phàigheadh na b’ fheàrr na teagasg, agus ann an 1817 bha gu leòr de dh’airgead aige gus siubhal bho Ulapul gu Pictou, air costa tuath na h-Alba Nuaidh, air an long eilthireach Frances Ann, agus an teaghlach aige goirid às dèidh sin. Sin a chiad siubhal, is a’ chiad long nar sgeulachd.
Ann am Pictou cha robh am beatha thùsaireach gharbh cho furasda dhan teaghlach an toiseach, ach bha sgilean practaigeach gu leòr aca mar-thà agus bha Gàidheil eile ann cuideachd. Agus cha b’ fhada gus an robh MacLeòid ri searmonachadh a-rithist, mar as àbhaist an aghaidh mì-mhoraltachd sa bhaile ‘s san eaglais, mar a chunnaic e cùisean an sin cuideachd – fìor bhriseadh-dùil dha a bha sin. Ach bha mòran luchd-leantainn aige a-rithist, na “Normanites” mar a bha orra, agus nuair a phlanaig e a dh’fhalbh gus coimhearsnachd ùr a stèidheachadh, air a ruith air prionnsapalan a’ Bhìobaill, bha gu leòr de na Gàidheil deiseil is deònach a dhol leis an t-searmonaiche tarraingeach is ceannard comasach seo.
Tha coltas ann gun robh iad a’ smaoineachadh an toiseach mu Ohio, far an robh luchd-aithne aig MacLeòid, ach co-dhiù thog iad sgùinear, air ainmeachadh an Àirc le muinntir Phictou (an dàrna long is turas againn), agus dh’fhalbh a chiad bhuidheann ann an 1819, a’ seòladh timcheall air Ceap Breatainn, eilean mòr a tha na phàirt sear de Alba Nuadh, far an robh barrachd fearainn ri fhaighinn do thuinichean. Air sgàth stoirm, landaig iad ann am Bàgh St Ann’s, acarsaid mhath ann an linne air costa an ear an eilein, agus bha coltas freagarrach air, le rùm gu leòr is èisg am pailteas. Le sin, thog na Normanites ann am Pictou sia soithichean eile agus thàinig iadsan cuideachd ann an 1820. Cha b’ fhada gus an tàinig eilthirich Ghàidhealach eile, cuid dìreach à Alba fhèin. A rèir coltais bha mu 700 tuinichean an sin aig a’ cheann thall.
‘S e tuineachadh gu math soirbheachail a bh’ ann am Baile Anna, is na Gàidheil dìcheallach is sgileil mar thuathanaich ‘s mar mharaichean, agus le bhith a’ togail bhàtaichean ‘s a’ malart. Bha fiodh gu leòr aca – craobhan am pailteas seach mar a bha air oir an iar na Gàidhealtachd is sna h-Eileanan. San eadar-àm dh’obair Tormod fhèin mar thidsear agus mar bhàillidh, agus nuair a chaidh aige air cead fhaighinn gu bhith na mhinistear oifigeil mu dheireadh thall (ann an Nuadh Eabhrac, fada air falbh bho bhuaidh Eaglais na h-Alba no Eaglais Cheap Bhreatainn), dh’fhaod e pòsaidhean is baistidhean a choileanadh na threud cuideachd.
Mar sin bha e na cheannard os cionn beatha shìobhalta is spioradail an tuineachaidh. Cha robh e airson tuarastal fhaighinn airson sin – san àite bha a h-uile dùil aige gum biodh na fir ag obair air an lot aige, fhad ‘s a rinn esan obair Dhè – foghlam is searmonachadh. Ruith a h-uile rud an sin tron Ghàidhlig cuideachd, is a’ chlann ag ionnsachadh leughadh tron Bhìoball Ghàidhlig agus ga leughadh aig an taigh dha na seann daoine aig nach robh comas leughaidh. Cha robh a h-uile duine toilichte leis an dòigh-bheatha cho riaghailte seo, ach mar às abhaist, dh’fhalbh iadsan a-rithist, agus tha coltas gun robh a’ mhòr-chuid riaraichte. A dh’aindeoin nan geamhraidhean cruaidh, leis an dèigh a’ glasadh nan slighean-mara gu tric, bha iad ann an àite sàbhailte, sìtheil, math eagraichte, agus gu ìre mhath soirbheachail, agus bha iad taingeil air a shon.
Ach às dèidh mu 25 bliadhna, thòisich cùisean ri atharrachadh. Bha na bliadhnaichean mòr-phailteis seachad, agus na bliadhnaichean gorta a’ tighinn. ‘S ann gun robh malairt an fhiodha a’ dol an lughad, cha robh an t-iasgach cho prothaideach às dèidh aonta-malairt ùir le Ameireaga, agus cha robh fearann gu leòr tuilleadh is àireamh an t-sluaigh a’ sìor dol an àird. Agus an uair sin, ann an 1847, thàinig galaran a’ bhuntàta agus na cruithneachd dhan sgìre cuideachd. Cha robh sìol ùr ri fhaighinn, agus muinntir an tuineachaidh fo eagal na gorta. Cha tug athchuinge èiginneach dhan Riaghaltas an cuideachadh a bha a dhith. Agus thòisich an t-Urramach Tormod MacLeòid, aig aois 67, ri meòrachadh mu eilthireachd a-rithist….
Agus càite, an turas seo? Faigh a-mach ann am Pàirt 2! (Agus chan e Sealainn Nuadh a bh’ ann…)
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Waipu’s amazing story (1)
After my trip to Australia in November I went on to New Zealand, and one of my most important destinations there was the wee town of Waipu, North island. Why? Well, it was also the very particular destination of some other Highlanders, around 175 years ago. But they didn’t exactly take the direct route… And that’s why I’m spreading their story over two articles. This is a fascinating story of iron leadership, intrepid people and their sturdy wooden vessels.
We have to go back first of all to Ullapool at the beginning of the 1800s. There was a young man from Assynt there, a Norman McLeod, who was the teacher in the church school around 1815. He was an educated man with am MA from Aberdeen and a Gold Medal in Moral Philosophy, and he’d also started a Diivinity degree in Edinburgh. But he left the course as he believed both that the church was too much under the influence of the heritors (the landowners who funded the parishes and got to pick the ministers) and that the ministers themseves were too worldly and not godly enough – he wanted to return to the strict principles of Calvin and Knox.
And in his job as teacher in Ullapool he also didn’t hold back with criticism of the same sort, particularly against the local minister. At the same time McLeod was lay-preaching, and with his strong, uncompromising message, and imposing appearance – he was tall and well-built with a carrying voice – he won quite a reputation with the people of the area, if not exactly with the established church. After serving two years in the school he lost that job and had to take work as a fisherman in Wick.
He began to consider emigrating to Canada, as so many in the Highlands did at that time, in the hope that things would be better there. Fishing actually paid better than teaching, and by 1817 he had enough money to sail from Ullapool to Pictou, in northern Nova Scotia, in the emigrant ship the Frances Ann, with his family following shortly after. And that’s only the first of the voyages, and the first of the ships in our story.
In Pictou the rough pioneer life was hard for the family at first, but they had plenty of practical skills and there were other Gaels there too. And it wasn’t long before McLeod was at the preaching again, as usual ranting against immorality in the township and the church, as he saw it there too – a bitter disappointment to him. But he again acquired plenty of devotees, the so-called “Normanites”, and when he started planning to go off and found a new community, run on Biblical principles, there were enough Gaels who were ready and willing to go along with this charismatic preacher and capable leader.
It seems they first considered Ohio, as McLeod had contacts there, but in any case they built a schooner, dubbed the Ark by the Pictou folk (our second ship and voyage), and the first group set off in 1819 sailing round Cape Breton, the large island that forms the eastern part of Nova Scotia, where there was more land available for settlers. A storm drove them to shelter in St Ann’s Bay, a good anchorage on an inlet in the east coast, and they decided it was a suitable place to settle, with plenty of space and abundant fishing. Hearing that, the Normanites in Pictou built 6 more boats and and they too arrived in 1820. It wasn’t long before other Highlanders followed, some straight from Scotland. Seemingly there were ultimately around 700 settlers over time.
St Ann’s (Baile Anna) became a very successful settlement, the Gaels being hard-working and skilled in farming and as seamen, and also in boat-building and trading. They had plenty of wood for that – trees in abundance, unlike on the west coast and the Western Isles back home. Meanwhile Norman McLeod was busy as the teacher and also the magistrate, and when he finally got his licence as a minister (in New York, far away from the influence of the church in Scotland and Cape Breton), he was also able to carry out marriages and baptisms in his flock.
He was therefore now in overall charge of the civil and spiritual life of the settlement. He didn’t want a salary for that – instead he expected the men to do the work on his piece of land, while he did the work of God – teaching and preaching. Everything operated in Gaelic, the children learning to read via the Scriptures, and then reading them to the old folk at home who couldn’t read. Not everyone was happy with this highly regulated way of life, but such people usually left, and the majority seemed content enough. Despite the hard winters and the sea-ways often getting ice-bound, they saw the benefits of a secure, peaceful, well-ordered and largely prosperous place to live.
After about 25 years, however, things began to change. The years of plenty were past, and the lean years about to come. The timber trade had begun to decline, fishing became less profitable after a new trade agreement with America, and there wasn’t enough land for the ever-growing population. And to top it all, in 1847 both potato blight and wheat rust hit the area. There was no new seed to be had, and the population lived in fear of imminent famine. Desperate petitions to the government didn’t bring the much-needed help. And the Reverend Norman McLeod began, at the age of 67, to think once again about emigration….
And where to this time? Find out in Part 2! (And it wasn’t New Zealand…)
Dealbhan bho Thaigh-tasgaidh Waipu, le taing/ Pictures from Waipu Museum, with thanks.
