The famine graveyard at Kenmare was one of many I’ve since come across during
this trip – but nothing can compare to the pathos of this first one I saw, on a
deserted hillside in the twilight, near a plot set aside for unbaptised
children. The mass graveyard for all those who starved to death due to English
exploitation and abandonment hurt to see, but it was the tiny children’s plot which
really set my teeth on edge. Ironically the first thought which came to mind
when I saw it was, what an unchristian thing to do.
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| Famine plot. In this small township, they estimated 1,000-5,000 people died. They couldn't tell exactly because there were so many of them that they weren't able to say funeral services over them all. Corpses were found everywhere - roads, fields, mountains, glens, in their homes, at the workhouse, and on the doors of residents in town as people, desperate for help and despairing of finding it in the country, crawled into the township. These sad corpses were buried at night, leaving no trace. The headstone reads: "In memory of all those laid to rest in this famine plot during the terrible years 1845 - 1849. May they rest in peace." Amen. |
There followed a beautiful drive through mountains and
valleys, past lakes and heath, and culminating in a picnic dinner at the Gap of
Dunloe in the evening, and then a solitary drive through the Gap itself. At one
point, right in the middle of the Gap (which is nothing more than an exaggerated
saddle through which the Dunloe River flows), I stopped the car and turned off
the engine, and there was something immensely creepy about the dark blue sky,
the endless dripping and splashing of the river, and the vast walls of rock
extending up, up on either side of me, and no other human to be seen. I wasn't sorry to switch the engine on and scurry back to civilisation soon after!