Orepuki -: in the foreground, farming land the McKenzie family (of both Irish and Scottish heritage) established. In the background, the ocean at Te Wae Wae Bay, the Princess Mountain Range in the distance.
After weeks of plodding through the Scottish links with my family tree, one day last week I decided on a whim to take a bit of a peek into the Irish connections.
Immediately, or so it appeared, my imagination lit up. Previous to this, I had been finding it hard to come up with any spark. However, I may have been searching for the lode in the wrong place. It seems that at this particular time, for me, Ireland’s past is where the energy lies.
Re-energised, I am taking a gander at Irish myths and legends. I listen for the quick, and the dead; familial voices from the past that call to my present.
the drowned bell (an excerpt)
As the horse and I rode by the lough, I threw the small bell wide and hard and I was not sorry it was gone. Down and through, cutting dark water like the blade of a sword. No sound save a swallow from the throat of the lough as it took it. Took it from me, yes, but better yet, also from them. No longer can it sound the call to prayer. The bell of hammered iron, dipped in bronze, is now a drowned voice and I am not sorry. It has been silenced, yet in its fall it has been saved. Kept by water. The horse under me darkens, then flares as the blaze of fires from the monastery light up the sky.