BEING born and bred in Caithness I often have to correct people's assumption that I spent my childhood singing Gaelic from Highland peaks. I assure them that Caithness is the flattest, most featureless plateau imaginable.
It has nothing to do with the Highlands, geologically or historically, and as for Gaels, it has more speakers of Punjabi. We Caithnessians are forever explaining this, but no one is listening, as a recent example of deliberate deafness has proven: th
e Highland Council has ruled, in a moment of historic absurdity, that all signposts in Caithness are to become bilingual and be translated into Gaelic.
In my many childhood years in Wick I only met one Gael. He was a poet and friend of my father's from Stornoway, who came to read his poems. The locals were not interested and so he ended up reading to an audience of five, who included my sister, my mum, my dad and me. This hostility to all things Gaelic has a long history in Caithness and the feeling is mutual – try telling any Gael that you're from Wick and watch him recoil in disgust. Some say it's because of the Viking lineage of Caithness (the county was named by the Vikings after the warlike Pictish tribe known as 'The Cats' that they conquered). There is, however, a more recent example of conflict, which may shed some light.
In 1859, at the very height of the fishing boom, in Wick Market Square, a fight broke out between a local and a Gael from Lewis over the theft of an orange. Five stabbings and many other injuries later, troops were called in, the Western Islanders and Wickers were segregated and the town placed under curfew. This in Wick-lore is known as The War of the Orange. Not only does this show the animosity between the two cultures, it also demonstrates the problems in naming and signage, as I have it on good authority that on the Isle of Lewis this incident is known to this day as The War of the Apple. If a sign was to be placed in Wick to commemorate the event fighting would, no doubt, resume over the choice of fruit.
As a Gaelic student friend of my parents said recently: "Having Gaelic signs in Caithness is an insult to history." She's right; this one-size-fits all political tailoring pays no respect at all to the real heritage of the place, or for that matter, to the Caithness councillors who voted 10-8 against the change and had their decision overruled by the Highland Council.
It goes to show just how historically and culturally incorrect the politically correct can be. In steamrollering over reality with their new-improved version of the friendly future they are creating a fictional history in which Caithnessians are somehow supposed to have been Gaels.
If the people of Caithness must be subjected to this Gaelic invasion, they should at least be offered the choice of words on the sign that welcomes people to the town. I would recommend that all mention of fruit be avoided as it would only lead to further conflict.
Instead the following might suit: Fàilte gu Gallaibh. Fo bhuaidh ceartas-poileataiceach bho chionn 2008 (Welcome to Caithness – Colonised by political correctness since 2008.)
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ewan.morrison@scotlandonsunday.comThe full article contains 570 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
