Dancing as Gaeilge

Ireland's oldest arts festival, Oireachtas na Gaeilge, kicked off in Dingle, Co Kerry, last night. You probably didn't realise - it's in Irish. An tOireachtas - meaning "gathering" or "festival" - was first held in Dublin in 1897 under the auspices of the then infant Gaelic League. With the exception of a hiatus between 1924 and 1939, it has been an annual cultural event for Irish speakers from the Gaeltacht and beyond.

Director since 1996, Liam ╙ Maolaodha, describes an tOireachtas succinctly as "a celebration of all that is happening in the arts through Irish". Traditionally, it was a 10-day event, during which literature, sean-n≤s singing and dancing, recitals and the visual arts vied for space.

A couple of years ago the format was changed, and two separate and shorter festivals were created. Since 1974, the festival has been a moveable feast from one locale to another.

Given that ╙ Maolaodha is only one of two full-time staff, the local organisation has depended on volunteer workers. While the quality of organisation was generally very high, it did have its low points - most notably, Oireachtas an ChΘid in Belfast in 1997.

Consequently, it was decided to organise two events, one at Bealtaine and the other at Samhain. "We have made changes," says ╙ Maolaodha. "I'm happy with those changes. I recognise there are weaknesses . . . but they can be dealt with."

It is Oireachtas na Samhna which retains the core elements of the Gaeltacht traditional arts - singing, dancing, story-telling and music. Indeed, this second festival is known colloquially as Deireadh Seachtaine na Gaeltachta (The Gaeltacht Weekend). "The events bind people together," says ╙ Maolaodha. "It's like the local football team winning. If they win, the community comes out to congratulate them. It's the same thing here."

It is this appeal to local pride, played out on a national stage, which ensures a regular and loyal turnout from Irish speakers and, most particularly, from native speakers. Even the most casual visitor cannot help but notice the Babel of dialects during the premiere sean-n≤s competition, Corn U∅ Riada. ╙ Maolaodha acknowledges the central role which the sean-n≤s plays in the festival. Indeed, even he seems a little bemused by the passion with which local people greet a local victory.

While the sean-n≤s singing is one central plank, another sean-n≤s tradition, dancing, is making a come-back. ╙ Maolaodha pays tribute to the Connemara community arts festival, PlΘarβca, for having sparked the revivalist interest in this art form. It is a relative newcomer to an tOireachtas, but one which is fast becoming unmissable. "We had an hour and a quarter of unbelievable dancing last year in Castlebar," he says.

Lord of the Dance it's not. Sean-n≤s dancing bears no resemblance to the Riverdance phenomenon (there's not a shaggy perm in sight). It can best be described as disco d·chasach or native disco, if you prefer. Remember John Travalta in Saturday Night Fever? Sean-n≤s dancers have all the verve, and better rhythm and steps to boot.

Often, Irish culture tends to judge achievement almost entirely in English - from Westlife to Heaney. An tOireachtas harks back to an older and richer tradition of oral lore. Language, at its most fundamental and expressive, is explored in events which stress the need to entertain an audience through nothing other than pristine speech.

Take, for example, agallamh beirte. Literally translated, it means dialogue. However, that fails to explain adequately an exchange of verbal jousting which makes most stand-up comedic routines seem tame. The topic of conversation between the protagonists can range from the local to the global, but what doesn't change is the pace of delivery and the ability to skin a subject in this most heightened of oratorical forms. "It's an old skill, full of trickery and spree," says ╙ Maolaodha.

This writer remembers listening to one agallamh beirte which managed to tie an explosion at a local pub (don't ask!) with the fall of the Berlin Wall. The limit of the form is dictated only by the verbal fluency and imagination of its practitioners.

╙ Maolaodha is keen to avoid atrophy in the competitions and points out that the average age of contestants in the sean-n≤s singing has "dropped greatly" in the last five years, that there are 15 entrants under 18 years old for junior sean-n≤s and that there are 32 entrants, aged between 10 and 14 years old, in the children's section of this year's agallamh beirte. There is also a dedicated youth programme during the festival.

That said, he is cautious about overstating the extent to which An tOireachtas can arrest the advance of English. Yes, there are still fine speaker and singers and the language battle hasn't been lost, he says. However, "You have to be careful. I'm not saying that this is going to change what is happening as part of this country's history. What it does show is that there are people in the Gaeltacht who are fighting ferociously to keep what they have alive. And there are people from outside the Gaeltacht who are doing their best to keep up with them."

Yet it is no exaggeration to say the festival will take place unbeknownst to most English speakers. Is that necessarily a good thing? He argues that "the language is central to the event. It's organised for Irish speakers", and that there is a need to protect that unique linguistic environment. The language doesn't represent an insurmountable barrier. The sean-n≤s singing can be listened to on its merits and the atmosphere sampled. The dancing and music, he says, need no interpreters.

Oireachtas na Samhna is running this weekend in Dingle, Co Kerry until Sunday. For information on all events and venues, contact: 066-9150211.