The Judge RANTS!
Date: 14/09/17
Mae'n Bryd I Ni Ddechrau Gweiddi
Taflaf fy meddwl yn ôl dros ddeng mlynedd ar hugain a chofio'r bwrlwm o weithredu ac ymgyrchu a wynebai unrhyw arwydd nad oedd yr awdurdodau a osodwyd uwch ein pennau ni - boed hynny'n Gyngor Sir neu yn adran o'r llywodraeth ganolog drefedigaethol neu'n gwmni preifat - yn talu'r parch priodol i'n cenedligwrydd neu'n hiaith. Bu ralïoedd, bu meddiannu swyddfeydd, bu dringo mastiau darlledu, bu Paentio'r Byd Yn Wyrdd, bu arestiadau a charcharu.
Y mae rhai sydd yn credu fod yr holl frwydrau pwysig wedi eu hen ennill; wedi'r cwbl, y mae gennym ddeddfau a ballu i warchod hawliau'r iaith bellach, on'd oes?
Wel, dyma arwydd o lwyddiant yr holl broses, yn ffurf yr hanes hon o'r penwythnos diwethaf.
A dyma ble yr ydym ni bellach. Ystyriwch: mae'n 2017, ac yn Llambed y mae gwraig yn cael ei cheryddu am siarad Cymraeg â'i merch ar goedd gwlad.
Nid yw'r adroddiad hwnnw yn dweud o ble ddaeth yr ast ddi-fanars a dwrdiodd Elin Jones mewn siop yn y dref (h.y., o ble ddaeth hi yn wreddiol), ond synnwn i'n fawr nad oedd hi yn un o'r miloedd o Saeson rhagfarnllyd hiliol sydd wedi llifo fel carthffosiaeth dros y Canolbarth yn ystod yr hugain mlynedd ddiwethaf, a hwythau'n ei hegli hi nerth eu coesau o ffynnonellau pwdr Birmingham a Telford rhag ofn iddynt orfod rhannu palmant efo'r 'wogs'. Ac, fel sydd yn rheol efo mwyafrif llethol y math fewnfudwyr, maent yn dod â'u traha sarhaus a'u harferion budr eraill efo nhw.
(Arwydd o'r diffyg hunan-ymwybyddiaeth sydd yn nodweddiadol o'r brîd, wrth gwrs, yw bod y gotsan hon wedi beirniadu Elin Jones am wneud yr union un peth ag y mae ei math hi o Saesnes yn mynnu bod yr holl fewnfudwyr hynny sydd (yn ôl y Dêli Mêl ac ati) yn dinistrio gwareiddiad gwyryfol Lloegr i'w wneud, sef siarad iaith yr wlad y maent yn byw ynddi. Y mae lefel yr eirioni yn uwch na dyfroedd Llyn Celyn).
Ond, nid dyma'r agwedd waethaf o'r hanes i'm tyb i. Edrychwch ar y 'cyngor' y mae'r Cynghorydd Tref Elin T. Jones yn rhoi i unrhyw un arall sydd yn gorfod gwynebu'r math anwybyddiath:
"Mae'n rhaid cadw'n calm - peidio rhegi a gweiddi achos wnaiff neb gymryd sylw i chi wedyn - a rhoi'r addysg yna iddyn nhw, mai fy musnes i yw hyn ac nid rhywun arall."
(Erm...Elin, cyw? Y mae geiriau Cymraeg am 'calm', wyddost ti?)
A dyna ni. Yn wyneb y sarhad eithaf o rywun yn galw'r iaith yr ydych chi'n ei siarad yn eich gwlad chi eich hunan (a gwlad yr iaith ei hun) yn "...foreign muck", yr ydych chi i fod i droi'r boch.
Na, ni thâl hyn o gwbl. Yn wir, y math gachgieidd-dra hwn sydd wedi ein harwain ni at y sefyllfa lle y gall rhyw dorden (*) o ben draw'r Clawdd (a'u tîn-lyfwyr ymhlith y natives, ac y mae'r rheini rhif y gwlith hefyd) ein gwawdio a'n hamharchu ni yn ddi-gosb. Er mwyn ein hunan-parch, er mwyn ein hurddas, y mae'n rhaid i ni fynd i wyneb y math ffyliaid, fel y gall y neges fynd yn syth i'w lle nad yw'r math haerllugrwydd yn dderbynniol gennym.
Ond eto, euthum i wefan Cyngor Tref Llambed er mwyn gwybod rhagor am y Cynghorwraig Elin T. Jones. Ni ddaeth fel syndod i mi i ddarganfod mae aelod ar ran Ddy Parti Of Wêls ydyw hi; gan fod y blaid honno nid cymaint yn rhan o'r ateb bellach (oni bai fod y cwestiwn yn un twp ar y naw), ond yn rhan o'r broblem. Y mae plaid Saunders Lewis a Gwynfor Evans bellach wedi ei chipio cymaint gan grwpiau 'cynyddgar' o bob rhyw siâp fel nad ydyw'n dda i ddim i'n gwarchod bellach, a hithau'n ofni hyd yn oed i ddweud geiriau fel 'cenedlaetholdeb' neu 'annibynniaeth', rhag ofn i hynny godi braw ar y Social Justice Warriors (mae'r math syniadau yn 'ffasgaidd', welwch chi?).
A dyna pam yr ydym ni yn y twll.
Ond nid dyma ddiwedd y sbort am yr wythnos. Y diwrnod wedyn, gwelsom y stori hon.
Yn Aberystwyth - cartref un o'n prifysgolion 'ni', ac alma mater eich Barnwr braf - y mae cwmni siop sothach o Loegr wedi cael caniatád gan y Cyngor Sir i godi arwyddion nad oes ganddynt yr un gair o'r iaith frodorol arnynt.
Er clod iddynt, yr oedd Cyngor Y Dref wedi gwrthod caniatád, ond mae 'Pennaeth Y Gwasanaethau Technegol' (ac o ble ddaeth Mr Paul Arnold, tybed?) yn deall y pethau hyn yn well, yn ddi-os. A pha blaid sydd y fwyaf ar y cyngor hwnnw? Wel, PC-SJW (Profisional), wrth gwrs.
Os ydyw'r Blaid neu Gymdeithas Yr Iaith wedi dweud yr un gair yn swyddogol ynglŷn a'r ddau sarhad hyn, y maent wedi ei ddweud mor isel fel na all neb eu clywed. Lle mae arwyddion Home Bargains yn y cwestiwn, os na fydd y paent gwyrdd yn dod allan o sied Dafydd Morgan Lewis i wynebu'r her, felly y mae'n hen bryd i'r Gymdeithas hithau fynd i ebargofiant. Fel efo adroddiad gwarthus o unochrog y Guardian ynghylch ffrae Llangennech a'r cyflafan o eitem ar Newsnight y mis wedyn, y mae'n rhaid i ni wynebu a gwrthsefyll yr her gyson i'n hunaniaeth a hunan-barch. Â'i rhoi yn syml; mae'n rhaid i ni beidio â bod mor ffycing neis. Ein iaith ni yw hon; ein gwlad ni yw hon. Os bydd hynny yn tramgwyddo yn erbyn teimladau sensitif y Saeson a'u Hwncwl Toms, wel dyna biti, ondifê?
(Fel ôl-nodyn, nid ni'r Cymry yn unig sydd yn gorfod ymladd dros a pethau lleiaf, fel y mae'r hanes hon yn dangos (a sylwch sut mae'r stori yn galw'r hogyn bach yn 'French' a Llydaw yn 'region'; ond bai Agence France-Presse yw hyn y tro hwn, nid y papur). Yn ogystal ag agwedd haerllug yr awdurdodau yn Iwerddon Rydd tuag at eu hiaith genedlaethol, a'r un teimladau yn cael eu mynegi gan nifer o Albanwyr sefydliadol tuag at yr Aeleg, y mae'r ieithoedd Celtaidd - ac, wrth reswm, y sawl sydd yn eu siarad - mewn perygl fel na fuont erioed. Os yr ydym am osgoi'r tebygwrydd o'n byd yn troi'n llwyd dan ewyn pwdr y 'diwylliant' Eingl-Americanaidd, y mae'n rhaid ymladd rŵan.)
(*) Ffurf fachigol yn hannu o'r gair 'tord', term a fathais i fy hunan yn y Coleg ers lawer dydd, sef ffurf fenywaidd 'twrd'.
********
It's Time To Start Shouting
I cast my mind back over thirty years to remember the hurly-burly of direct action and campaigning which resulted from any sign that those set in authority over us - be they county councils, departments of the central colonial government or private companies - were not paying the proper respect to our national identity and language. There were rallies, occupations of offices, the climbing of television masts; there was Painting of the World Green; there were arrests and imprisonments.
There are some who think that all the important battles have been won; after all, we have laws and suchlike to defend the rights of the language now, don't we?
Well, here's a sign of how successful the whole process has been, in the form of a story from last weekend.
To précis for monoglots: a mother speaking Welsh to her small daughter in a shop in Llanbedr-Pont-Steffan (what youse call 'Lampeter') is upbraided by a woman who is a total stranger to her for speaking "...that foreign muck..." to her child. Why, demands the assailant, doesn't she speak English to her?
(It is accepted as possible, at least in the opinion of the mother, that the woman thought that she (i.e., the mother) was speaking Polish. That makes no difference at all to the nature of the offence, merely to the degree.)
So this is where we find ourselves. Consider: in Llambed, in 2017, a woman is scolded for speaking Welsh to her daughter in the full hearing of the populace at large.
The report doesn't give any indication of where the ill-mannered bitch who taunted Elin Jones in this way came from (that is to say, where she came from originally), but given her apparent inability to tell Welsh from Polish (to give her every undeserved benefit of the doubt), and her attitude in general, it would be little surprise to learn that she was one of the thousands of racist, bigoted English people who have covered the midlands of our land like the contents of a ruptured sewer over the past twenty years, as they scoot pell-mell from the soiled wells of Birmingham and Telford lest they should ever have to share a pavement with 'the wogs'. And, as is standard with the overwhelming majority of such immigrants, they bring their insulting arrogance and other such unclean habits with them.
(It is, of course, a sign of the breed's typical lack of self-awareness that this cunt criticised Elin Jones (the mother) for doing exactly what her sort of Englishwoman insist that all those immigrants who are (according to the Daily Mail and suchlike orifices) busy destroying the virginal civilisation of England must do; that is, speak the language of the country they have moved to live in. The irony level is higher than the waters of Llyn Celyn).
In my opinion, however, that wasn't the worst aspect of the story as reported: English immigrant bigots do what English immigrant bigots do; and, given the woeful nature of English education and media when it comes to the non-English indigenous cultures of these islands, their lack of awareness does have at least a small mitigation factor.
No. What is worse than the story itself (which is of a kind which is repeated every week somewhere in our happy colony), is the 'advice' which Town Councillor Elin T. Jones seeks to give to anyone else who has to face such ignorance in the future:
"You have to keep calm - don't swear or shout because then no-one will take any notice of you - and educate them that this is my business and not anyone else's."
And there it is. In the face of the ultimate insult of hearing someone call the language you speak in your own country and where that language properly belongs "...foreign muck", you are simply to turn the other cheek.
No. This simply will not do. Indeed, it is such cowardice which has led us to the situation whereby any turdette from across the Dyke (and their arse-kissers amongst the natives, who number as the grains of sand on Aberdyfi beach) can scorn and disrespect us with no come-back. For the sake of our self-respect, our dignity, we have to get in the face of these twerps, so that the message can go straight home that such arrogance is not acceptable to us. It is - literally - the only language they seem to understand.
I went to the website of Llanbedr-Pont-Steffan Town Council to find out a little more about Councillor Elin T. Jones. It didn't come as much of a surprise to me to find that she sits in the interest of 'The Party Of Wales'; because that party is nowadays, far from being part of the answer (unless the question is egregiously stupid), part of the problem. The party of Saunders Lewis and Gwynfor Evans has now been so captured by 'progressive' groups of all shapes and sizes that it is no longer any use in defending our interests, with it being afraid even to utter words such as 'nationalism' or 'independence', lest such intemperate language frighten the Social Justice Warriors (such ideas are 'fascist', don't you see?)
And that's why we're up Pant Y Cachu (*).
But that wasn't the end of the week's fun. The very next day, we had this story.
In Aberystwyth - the home of one of 'our' universities - the alma mater of your own dear Judgie-poos, no less - a branch of an English chain of grot shops has been given permission by Ceredigion County Council to put up signage outside their new store which doesn't carry a single word of the native language of the area.
To their credit, Aberystwyth Town Council had refused permission, presumably on the unimpeachable grounds that it was a condign bloody insult, but Ceredigion's 'Head of Technical Services', one Paul Arnold (and from whence cometh he, pray tell?) obviously understands these matters better. And which is the largest party on the county council? Step forward the PC-SJW (Provisional)!
If Plaid or Cymdeithas Yr Iaith (the Welsh Language Society) have uttered anything official regarding these two outrages, then they have spoken too quietly to be heard. As far as Home Bargains' signs are concerned, if the green paint doesn't come out of Dafydd Morgan Lewis' shed to (de)face this challenge, then it is probably high time for Cymdeithas Yr Iaith to pass into oblivion as well. As with the shamefully one-sided reportage of the fuss in Llangennech and the car-crash of an item on Newsnight the following month, we must face and resist these constant threats to our identity and self-respect. To put it simple terms; we have to stop being so fucking nice. It's our language; it's our country. If that puts out of joint the pointed noses of the terribly sensitive English and their Uncle Toms, well there's a shame, iznit?
(As a foot-note, it's not just us who have to fight for the slightest consideration, as this story indicates (and note how the report calls the little boy 'French' and Brittany a 'region'; but that's Agence France-Presse's fault this time, rather than the Graun's). Alongside the insulting attitude taken by the authorities in Free Ireland towards their own national language, and the similarly ignorant feelings being expressed by a number of prominent Establishment Scots about Gaelic, the Celtic languages - and, by extension, those who speak them - are in greater peril than ever. If we are to avoid the likelihood of our world being turned grey under the mildewed froth of Anglo-American 'culture', we must fight, and fight now.)
(*) Shit Creek
