Moya Roddy celebrates Nollaig na mBan

moya roddy

moya roddy

January 6, the twelfth and final day of Christmas, was always known in Ireland as Nollaig na mBan, Women’s Christmas or Little Christmas. As a reward for their hard work over the festive season, women were rewarded with a day off from the house work and traditional roles were meant to be reversed in the home - the men did the women’s house work while the women rested and gathered together casually.

Here is a poem by Moya Roddy, taken from her collection, Out of the Ordinary, which was short-listed for the Strong/Shine Award. The poem reflects old traditions associated with Nollaig na mBan from a different time, which we should remember, cherish and celebrate.

Nollaig na mBan

Wise Men came bearing gifts,

guided by a star so bright it lit up

the Heavens; big as the star

that blazed in our hallway announcing –

Christmas is coming!

Christmas is coming!

Christmas is coming,

the goose is getting fat –

I longed for a goose but we always

got a turkey – a twenty pounder

from out the country;

my father carrying it aloft,

hunter-gatherer for a day.

The bird hung in the scullery, pale,

featherless, until my mother

set about cleaning it, spreading

newspaper on the table,

humming while she worked.

Sometimes she’d pause: treat us

to Adeste Fideles, The First Noel –

the house falling quiet as our

ordinary mammy – hands sticky

with innards – sang like a star.

Women out West reared turkeys,

used the cash to buy a few hours freedom

on Nollaig na mBan. Where we lived

it was the Feast of the Epiphany: the day

decorations came down. Once the Magi

had visited, every wisp of tinsel, coloured bauble,

each magic fairy light vanished –

home returning to a drab normality,

parents to mere mortals.

My mother never sang on Nollaig na mBan

– stayed mum – the star the last thing

she took down, folded to size, put away.

 

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