What was this International Women’s Day lark all about?
IN THE towns and villages, the school rush is over and the streets are quiet. The roaring 4x4s and the dusty people carriers are replaced by smaller models driven by older women coming in from the rural hinterland to go to church.
Meanwhile, the doors of the last few inhabited houses on the main street open as the women from the town join their rural sisters. They walk to the place of worship, beginning the day to the flicker of candles, the scent of polish and the hint of wine. The ancient rhythm of the liturgy eases open the morning.
Dotted around the vault of the near empty church, their voices barely rise an echo in response to the boom of the priest — deep, sonorous and amplified. Without them, the sound of the man would be left to boomerang off the walls and disappear into the rafters.
Without them, there would be no one to keep faith.
At the end, they bless themselves and go in peace. Some pause to light a candle for a husband who is no more, for a daughter in Australia, a son in Dublin and a grandchild in a spot of bother.
At the door, they sprinkle one another with holy water and chat about the cold and the late spring, about Mary’s lumbago and the results of Martin’s tests. They nod and smile and go their separate ways, agreeing that ‘God is good’.
Without them, there would be no one to keep faith.
Clutching zipped-up purses and folded umbrellas, their day continues as they amble from shop to shop ‘for the few things’: a chop from the butcher, the paper at the post office, a small sliced pan, a half dozen tomatoes and a few slices of ham at the grocery.
There is always time for tea and a bun with a neighbour in the little coffee shop. And so, they keep life in the village when the 4 x4s are gone to field, factory and desk.
Without them, there would be no one to keep faith.
Younger sisterhood
And her successor in the younger sisterhood is no different. She has been on the motorway for an hour — thank goodness for the handsfree, only for it she would be in the ditch or under arrest. The school will finish early and a neighbour has to be recruited to collect from the primary school. Another forgot about camogie so Granny is dropping the hurley and helmet to the secondary.
The shopping list is still stuck to the fridge but she has a fair idea what is needed, so she’ll eat her sandwich at the desk and hit the supermarket at lunchtime. He rings — don’t forget the dose for the cattle, the chemist will have it ready at 5.30pm. There goes any chance to escape the traffic. The eldest calls, he forgot his lunch — she rings her mother again.
Without them, there would be no one to keep faith.
Uncle Bill doesn’t go out anymore — the fall put a stop to that. He’s frightened now.