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BACK TO : The Irish in South America
A Day in Capitan Sarmiento, Argentina
by Michael G. Connaughton
michael@connaughton13.freeserve.co.uk
The alarm clock rang. My consciousness slowly roused. 5:30, the illuminated digital figures hazily proclaimed. I steadily regained my faculties after what amounted to about four hours sleep. What in Gods name was I doing getting up at this unearthly time? I was supposed to be on holiday.
Forty-five minutes later, following a tepid shower and a breakfast consisting of coffee and croissants, I was hastily making my way down Calle Peru heading towards San Telmo, the Buenos Aires barrio that is the home of tango. The purpose of my early-morning excursion however was not to sample the sensual and emotive environment of the milonga (1). I had arranged to meet up with a group called the Asociacion Argentino Irlandesa de Pilar who were making a memorial pilgrimage to Capitan Sarmiento, rural Argentina, to honour a deceased Passionist priest called Fr. Fidelis Rush.
My presence on the trip was initiated the day before over dinner with Luis Delaney, an Irish-Argentine whose grandparents hailed from County Cork. Luis worked as an administrator for the Buenos Aires-based Irish newspaper The Southern Cross. He referred to the intentions of group, of which the publications secretary, Alicia, was one. I was put in contact with a lady by the name of Patsy Doyle and it was to her house that I was headed to that Saturday morning to rendezvous with the group.
You dont have to walk for long in Buenos Aires to notice an Irish influence. Whilst briskly making my way toward San Telmo I happened upon a small square called Plazoleta Rodolfo Walsh at the intersection of Calle Peru and Avenida Chile. The Rodolfo Walsh that this humble corner of Buenos Aires referred to was a notable writer and left-wing activist during the 1960s and 1970s. The grandson of famine immigrants, Walsh proudly described himself as an Irish descendent on all sides. In the early 1960s he followed in the footsteps of perhaps the most famous Irish-Argentine, Che Guevara, and moved to Cuba where he worked as a journalist for the state-run news agency Prensa Latina. By the mid-1970s Walsh had taken the decision that would ultimately lead to his premature death, he followed his daughter in joining the Monteneros; a left wing armed revolutionary group. In March 1977 a military death squad gunned down Rodolfo Walsh not far from the point at which I was now stood.
Strolling in the glorious warmth of a late spring morning I reached Patsys apartment block on Avenida Carlos Calvo a couple of minutes early. Noticing a white Ford minibus waiting outside the building, I didnt know whether to board the vehicle or press the apartment buzzer. My mind was made up for me when I heard an elderly woman call from the van. Young man, you can get on board you know? We wont bite you. Rather embarrassed I sheepishly boarded and greeted the two ladies already seated. They introduced themselves as Maura Bannon and Maria Egan and both of them had grandparents that came from County Westmeath. Patsy then arrived with her daughter and granddaughter soon after. We made two more pick ups in the city, a Jose Maria Kenny, and Kate Rush, the sister of the late Fr. Fidelis. Again, both of them could trace their ancestry back to Westmeath. What astonished me most about these people and Irish-Argentines on the whole were their almost faultless Irish accents. I had heard accounts of Irish-Argentines who spoke English with an Irish accent yet it still took me aback. They had only travelled to Ireland maybe once or twice in their lives however their accents were as clear and as correct as that of any septua- and octogenarians from the Irish midlands.
Irish immigration to Argentina is a quite remarkable feature of a dynamic Diaspora. However, what stands out in this particular Hibernian population movement is the association it has with the small midland county of Westmeath. From the young auburn-haired Irish dance student to an administrator at Buenos Aires British Cemetery most of the Irish-Argentines that I met on my two-week stay in the country had family ties to Westmeath. It is estimated that around sixty percent of the Irish that settled in Argentina came from Westmeath. Natives of Ballynacarrigy, Ballymore and Moyvore in the Longford/Westmeath border region are as likely to have relatives in Buenos Aires, Arrecifes or San Antonio de Areco as they are to have them in New York, London or Sydney.
As the minibus steadily made progress through the Buenos Aires northern barrios and on to Route 8 headed west I began conversing with Patsy and Maura about their experiences. Patsy, the only individual on the bus whose ancestors had no connection to Westmeath, and I immediately came across a similarity. Her maternal grandfather, Matthew Carmody, came from Kilkee, a humble, seaside town on County Clares Atlantic coastline. I explained to her that my paternal grandmother was from the village of Querin, just outside the selfsame town and had no doubt that she would have known of the Carmody family. Both Patsys and Mauras families emigrated from Ireland in the mid- to late nineteenth century. On reaching Argentina they settled in the vast agricultural region to the west of Buenos Aires. Like the Welsh in Patagonia, the Irish came to Argentina to continue a rural existence that they had strived and struggled for in the old country. Patsys parents migrated to Buenos Aires from the countryside in the 1920s where her father worked on the railways, a very English institution in Argentina. She told me how the British Embassy and the railway management wanted to give her father, Gerard Doyle, a British passport as he ascended the company ladder to which he laconically replied you can stuff your British passport, Im an Irishman. She also explained that growing up in Buenos Aires was an altogether confusing situation for her. I went to an Anglican primary school, a Catholic secondary school, had Irish parents and spoke English as a first language in a Spanish-speaking city
I suppose you could say that I was pretty mixed up from the start. They questioned me about the political situation in Ireland and expressed pleasure when I suggested that the on-going peace process, despite the odd stutter, was on the way to achieving a lasting settlement.
So who was Fr. Fidelis? The inhabitants of the bus could not speak highly enough of the man. Maura described him as a wonderful and generous man. Born into a Westmeath family in December 1914, Fidelis was ordained into the Passionist Order in 1940. As well as his work for the order Fr. Fidelis worked hard keeping the various Irish-Argentine groups in close contact. He seemed to be well loved and well missed.
We made one further pick-up in the town of Pilar mid-way between the Argentine capital and our destination. Past Pilar the landscape became very flat indeed. It reminded me very much of the mid-west American Plains. Many Irish immigrants came to this area and amassed terrific fortunes farming the lush, fertile land of the Pampas. The Gahan, Duggan, Lalor, Gaynor and Cavanagh families, to name but a few, owned vast estancias (ranches) and became very influential not only in the locality but in Argentine society as a whole. Driving through the area you can clearly see the Irish influence. There were Shamrocks and clovers emblazoned across signs, Irish surnames on business advertisements and roadsigns that tell you the distances to the towns of Duggan and Gahan. Coming across these examples I began to think more about the Irish immigrants who came to this part of the world. I found it hard to imagine why people from small villages in Westmeath, Longford, Cork, Clare and Wexford came to Argentina. It was easy to comprehend why people went to the US, England, Canada, Australia and New Zealand; there were language and colonial links to these places. Argentina on the other hand was a Spanish-speaking country at the opposite end of the world.
In the town of San Antonio de Areco we pulled in at a service station where we met up with three men, Kevin Farrell (President of the Irish-Argentine Associations), Johnnie Rattigan and Gerry Rush (nephew of Fr. Fidelis), who were also going to the memorial. Just outside the town we turned off the main highway and on to a country road. Along the sides of the road we passed Gauchos mounted on their horses. I wondered how many of these Argentine cowboys had family links to Ireland. After about thirty minutes the driver turned off the road and into the grounds of a Passionist monastery. Now redundant, the Monastery of St. Pauls Retreat used to be the main focus of education and religious teaching in the area. Catholic, particularly Irish Catholic, estancia owners and workers sent their children here as boarders to be educated by the Passionist priests.
On arrival I immediately struck up conversation with Johnnie. He was an extremely affable man and looked considerably younger than his seventy-eight years. Although his grandparents left Westmeath for Argentina in the 1890s he still maintained good links with Ireland through his Wexford-born wife. Johnnie explained to me that this rural area around San Antonio de Areco, Capitan Sarmiento, Arrecifes, Pilar, Lincoln and Carmen de Areco was one of the main focal points of Irish immigration in Argentina. The region, known as Capital Federal, was second only to Buenos Aires in terms of its Irish population. By 1895 nearly three thousand Irish or Argentineans of Irish descent had settled in the region (2).
In direct contrast to their homeland many Irish were acquiring vast amounts of land. James Gaynor, a native of Westmeath, owned 90,000 hectares of land whilst Eduardo Maguires land added up to 85,000 hectares. The Longford-born Duggan brothers Michael, Thomas and Daniel arrived in Argentina in the mid- to late-1850s. By the 1890s their leather and wool company Duggan Brothers possessed 300,000 hectares in the province. One of their estancias contained 65,000 hectares and took four days to fully cover it (3).
I strolled in and around the monastery searching for examples of an Irish influence. It didnt take long. In the priests graveyard I noticed numerous gravestones in the shape of Celtic Crosses and names such as Juan OCarolan, Patricio Lennon and Eugenio Walsh. I assumed that these men were born in Argentina because of their Hispanic forenames. On either side of the entrance hall to the chapel there were two memorials to Irishmen. One was in memory of a Rev. John Baptist Leahy born in County Kerry in 1845 and who died at sea in June 1882. The other was to a William Farrell from his father Patrick who actually erected the chapel in memory of his deceased son who died in August 1895.
Gerry Rush called us into the chapel for the commencement of the memorial. The cooler temperature inside the chapel offered a refreshing respite to the uncompromising pampas heat outside. The thick stone walls provided a simple but effective form of air-conditioning. Architecturally, the chapel was an outstanding piece of workmanship. An exquisitely tiled central aisle led you up the nave to the chancel where an imposing stone arch signalled the entrance to the altar. Murals of saints and the crucifixion of Christ adorned the walls together with impressive sculpted statues. In the upper right hand corner of the church Gerry, Johnnie and Kevin placed a well-crafted wooden plaque on the wall in memory of Fr. Fidelis. It said simply Father Fidelis Rush. Homenaje de la communidad argentino-irlandesa a cinco anos de su fallecimiento. 15-11-2002 (A tribute from the Irish-Argentine community on the fifth anniversary of your death). Gerry then began to say some words in Spanish about his uncle Fidelis. From what I could make out Gerry described Fidelis as a humble man who had a very caring and considerate manner. He was a man who worked hard throughout his life for his family, his parishioners, the poor and the Irish-Argentine community. Then looking at Fidelis sister Kate, seated in the front row, he said that her brother continues to be loved and missed by those who knew him.
When the memorial finished we adjourned to the main hall of the monastery for food and refreshments. The meagre staff who carried out the upkeep of the monastery prepared a meal of beef ravioli in tomato sauce washed down with the ubiquitous Malbec red wine. Not expecting a culinary masterpiece, I was pleasantly surprised by the standard of the meal. In true Irish fashion stories were exchanged around the dinner table as well as songs, both Irish and Argentine, being sung.
It was also around the table that I learned of the discontent that many in the community were feeling towards the Irish government with regards to Argentinas current economic crisis. The devaluation of the Argentine currency, the Peso, had crippled the economy and society and the only hope for the countrys youth was to leave. Maura and Patsy mentioned that their grandchildren had visited the Irish embassy in Buenos Aires with the hope of seeking residence in Ireland. They were point-blank refused entry into Ireland even though they could prove their ancestral links. I had heard a familiar account the previous night at the apartment of a woman called Mabel Ryan. Her granddaughters Sheila (20) and Eileen Geoghagen (18) had also been refused an entry visa. They tried to claim Irish citizenship through their great-grandparents but were refused. These stories annoyed me when I thought of the many English footballers and rugby players granted Irish passports at the drop of a hat because of tenuous links just so they could play for the national team. The likes of Sheila and Eileen were educated young people of Irish descent and a country they looked up to and respected was shunning them at a time when they needed it most. The elder members of the community were furious. They reasoned, with some justification, that just as an affluent Argentine-Irish community had provided relief and shelter during Irelands rough periods, such as the famine, now the favour should be returned by a economically-thriving Ireland to their offspring during Argentinas current hardships. They were not arguing that everybody should be let in to the country, however they felt that the government had a very short memory.
After dinner it was time to return to Buenos Aires. Taking one last stroll around the grounds of the monastery in the late afternoon heat I began to reflect on those Irish who came to this part of the world. Although I have always respected the ability of the Irish to stoically adapt to any given situation, those who ventured, settled and prospered in these parts truly amazed me. I felt an overwhelming pride towards those who came to this Spanish-speaking country far removed from any other area of Irish settlement, who escaped the secure confines of the city and cultivated a life denied them in their native land thousands of miles away. They were true pioneers and should never be forgotten.
We arrived back in Buenos Aires at 8pm. As I was disembarking the bus Patsy promised to give me a copy of a diary that her great-grandfather Edward Robbins, a native of County Offaly, had written. It arrived at my landladys apartment the night before I departed back for England. It put in perspective my pensiveness at the prospect of the seventeen-hour return journey.
EXCERPT FROM EDWARD ROBBINS' DIARY:
1849
Early in the month of March I left for Liverpool and arranged passage to Buenos Aires for myself and family with Michael MacDonald. On the 4th April all my family arrived at Liverpool and were kept there until 8th of May on which day we sailed. There was much sickness on board from the neglect of Government Inspectors at Liverpool; one man and child died at sea; my family and myself suffered very much. Had a good passage and arrived in Buenos Aires on the 13th of July. In quarantine until the 22nd on which day we landed. It was Sunday; my family with myself counted 13, of which 10 had to go into the Irish hospital. Left the Hospital with my wife and some children on the 10th of August and occupied a house in Calle Balcarce. On the 21st of August my wife died and was buried in the Recoleta. On the 29th of same month my son Bernard died and on the 4th of September my adopted daughter Mary Anne Coffy died. I could muster hard on 80 Pounds when I landed but when the dead were buried and the sick recovered I was some 5 or 600 dollars in debt.
Footnotes:
1. Tango dance hall
2. Juan Carlos Korol and Hilda Sabato: Cómo fue la immigración Irlandesa en la Argentina (Buenos Aires: Ne Plus Ultra, 1981)
3. Martin Parola, Irish Ranchers in The Southern Cross, November 2000
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