Close Encounters

Aisling is now running an annual trip to Mulranny during the week before Christmas. Alex McDonnell writes of strange events, television infamy, and more homecomings and reunions.

We went back to Mulranny again, just before Christmas, and were made to feel very welcome. Jerry Cowley paid off the fees for the cottages we hired and promised to pay for our accommodation each year from now on. Myself and Joe McGarry, our chair, had met Jerry in Dublin the week before and Jerry had showed us around the Dail, where it is obvious that he is greatly respected as a hard working, committed and independent TD. Independent that is, not only in his political affiliation but also in his commitment to issues that affect his constituents and which are not always popular with the government. Take, for instance, the provision of an air ambulance for the west of Ireland. The government think it will be an unnecessary expense. But as a rural doctor, as well as a TD, Jerry is convinced it would provide a great service to his community. Also, there is his commitment to emigrants: Jerry is better known for this issue in Britain, than for his constituency work, because he has done more for returning emigrants than any other person in Ireland (or anywhere else). Yet again, the government only look at the bottom line and are worried about the expense of providing services for returning emigrants, while Jerry continues to fight for a better life for the people he represents. And the people Jerry Cowley represents are far beyond the borders of Mayo and cover the four corners of the world.

Each year, when we come to Mulranny the people of the village put on a welcome party for us in the village hall. Those of us who have been before know what to expect, but the new volunteers and the returnees are always in for a great surprise and a pleasant shock. This year, when we arrived at the hall, at lunchtime, a piper was waiting and he marched us through the handball alley into the hall, which was bedecked in Christmas decorations and hung with welcoming banners. Tables were laid out and set for dinner and a couple of hundred people from the village and the care centre were there to greet us. This year was slightly different from past occasions in that there was a cameraman and a presenter from RTE at the door, as we went into the hall. Jerry had mentioned that they wanted to interview us sometime during the week, but I didn’t realise they would be there at the hall. Most of the lads were fine but one returnee, Joe, completely lost his head. Joe was in a delicate state, anyway, and the moment he saw the camera he was off. Myself and Amanda [another care worker] tried to reassure him, but he was shaking and his nerves were shot. He headed off to the pub, where he ordered a pint and sat shaking, ‘Oh god I should never have come. Why did I let ye talk me in to it?’

The thing was… Joe hadn’t needed any persuasion. A few weeks before he had been eager to come, and had been to see John at Cricklewood Homeless Concern, at least twice a week, until he got himself short-listed. And he had been delighted to be on the trip to his home county of Mayo. Joe had been fed up with his life, with his drinking and isolation and the rut he was in. He planned to see his family in Ireland and John had got phone numbers for Joe’s sisters in Dublin.

On the way over, Joe had been in grand form. On the ferry, he probably drank a bit too much and was irritable when we disembarked. A fiend of ours, Niamh, had offered to make breakfast for us at her home north of Dublin. It was 7 o’clock on Saturday morning when the two minibuses and 23 people arrived at her house in a cul-de-sac. I rang the doorbell, still a bit nervous (did she really mean to make breakfast for us all?) but Niamh and her mother Maire invited us in and I beckoned to the gang parked up outside the house. It was still dark and the headlights were full on as everyone slowly started to emerge and tentatively walked towards the house across the drive. I started to laugh, as the scene reminded me of the film Close Encounters, when the space ship lands and the abducted humans emerge for the first time in 30/40 years. I was grinning broadly, then, as I introduced our returnees, one by one, to Niamh and Maire, who showed them into the sitting room, the kitchen, the dining room and started to serve up porridge, bacon, egg, sausage, beans, toast, home-made bread, tea and coffee. A couple of the lads sat outside on the garden wall with their food and smoked a cigarette as the sun came up.

When everything was washed and cleared away, we relaxed for a while after the long journey and contemplated the next leg across country to Mayo. Seamus had had an epileptic fit on the boat just as we were getting into the lift on the car deck at Holyhead, and Niamh, who is a doctor, checked him over.

Joe was getting anxious again and so we decided to make a start. Just as we were loading up the buses, Seamus started to have another seizure on the pavement in front of the house. Niamh quickly attended to him but the lads who hadn’t seen the first incident, as they were already on board the ship when it happened, looked on shocked. Nevertheless, we got my passengers onto my bus, apart from Joe who had meanwhile legged it. Niamh had gone for medication but we were able to say goodbye, and thanks, to Maire. John attended to Seamus, who was coming round by now, as we drove off after Joe.

Joe had taken the wrong way into the cul-de-sac and we caught up with him at the entrance. He wouldn’t be persuaded to come with us and strode off towards the roundabout on the M50. I walked along with him trying to talk to him but his nerves were bad.
’Why did I ever come with ye? What am I doing here? I’m not going to Mayo.’
I kept talking.
‘Come on Joe, I can’t leave you here… Get in the van,’ etc, etc. At the roundabout, he turned around and headed back north, with me walking after him and the van following a few yards behind. This strange courtship dance kept up for about half an hour, until thankfully, it started to rain …And Joe agreed to come with us as far as Dublin city centre, where we would leave him off and he could go his own way.

more on Mulranny 2004 >>

reports on other Aisling trips