By NessA KAVANAGH |
In 90s Ireland , gender separated our secondary schools , and the Catholic Church governed 95 % of our educational institutions . Some of our teachers were nuns , who we referred to by their official title of “ sister .” Many nuns made important contributions to Irish society ; however , others , such as those in my school , held influential positions of power and adopted an authoritarian approach over their students , instilling fear and control through religious |
doctrine . My village was over 1,400 years old in Dublin , Ireland . The nuns resided in a magnificent 170-year-old gothic-style convent that adjoined our community church - both symbolized our village ’ s spectacular architecture , deep catholic faith and Celtic monastic history .
In 1845 , Ireland suffered Europe ’ s most severe food crisis of the century ; an estimated one million Irish men , women , and children starved to death during The Potato Famine , and approximately two million Irish fled their beloved homeland in “ coffin ships ” bound for North America . 30 % dying on route . In 1857 , amidst the famine recovery efforts , many nuns were invited to educate the impoverished girls of the region . While the nuns lived in the comfort of the village convent , most of the struggling community outside continued to suffer , working tirelessly to rebuild their lives and feed their families .
In Ireland , drinking alcohol is deeply ingrained in our social culture and closely tied to our customs and family gatherings . Age-old traditions such as “ around the house ” are still in place , where poetry and singing are shared in turn by one pub patron to
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another . Years before Irish children reach the legal drinking age of 18 , they are often very familiar with the pub environment through gatherings such as Sunday dinners , weddings , christenings , and wakes after funerals .
My first taste of alcohol was at the age of 12 . I found myself in defiance against the “ pledge ,” a Catholic oath of alcohol abstinence that was a requirement for most Irish schoolchildren to take . I grabbed a bottle of gin and took a swig ; it tasted awful , but asserting my non-compliance with an out-of-integrity system felt good . As teenagers in the ‘ 90s , my friends and I occasionally took a two-hour bike ride with a six-pack in tow to the waterfalls , rivers , and lakes of Sally Gap in the Wicklow Mountains . There , we improvised a “ blood brothers ” ceremony , swearing an oath to bond each other as sister and brother for life . On occasion , someone would pass a spliff of hash ; Hard street drugs had not infiltrated our circle .
My mother ’ s upbringing was humble - born in 1945 in the countryside of Redgap , Dublin ; she shared a small cottage with her five sisters in one bedroom and her parents and three
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