Dialogue in Welsh
Earlier drafts of ‘A Welsh Dawn’ contained
far more Welsh. My original intention was that conversations which would have
been in Welsh, should be in Welsh. This involved parallel translations back
into English, which, in the end I was forced to admit, complicated the task of
reading the book unacceptably.
I remain personally attached to the lost dialogue
which was written in authentic 1950’s Dyffryn Nantlle ‘tafodiaeth’
(dialect). I had two expert consultants
to assist in this. Shán Thomas and Gwynedd O. Pierce whose work is too good to
lose.
Below are some of the longer sections of
dialogue with page references to where they fit in the final printed edition.
***
Page 13
“ Chwara teg Mair. Fedri
di ddim mynnu’i fod o’n siarad Cymraeg.” The headteacher, Mr
Griffiths, looked at Mair Owen over his
cup of strong tea.
“ Pam lai? Ysgol Gymraeg ‘di hon”
“ Ond Sowthun ydi o – Mae ‘i
Saesnag o’n wych ond mae’i dad yn poeni ‘neith o ddrysu drwy ddysgu Cymraeg
iddo fo ag ynta’mor ifanc.”
“ Mi neith lês iddo fo.”
“ Mi neith siwr - ond tydi ‘i dad
o ddim yn gweld hi fel ‘na. Mae o’n poeni neith safon ei Saesnag o waethygu.”
“ Wel dwi ddim yn bwriadu dysgu
drw’r Saesnag i siwtio un plentyn.”
“It will do the other children good to learn more English as well”, he
tried to persuade her. “They can’t get
jobs in any office without being able to speak English.”
Mair was silent. She
straightened her back and stared ahead as she did when feeling resentment.
“ Paid a phoeni, Mair. Neith y
Gymraeg fyth diflannu mewn ardal Gymreigaidd fath â hon – Neith y capeli a’r
eglwysi ‘neud yn siwr o hynny. Ella bod hi’n well i ni bwyllo tipyn”
“Ildio ti’n feddwl”
Mr Griffiths sighed.
***
Page 22
A voice sounded fom the heart of the furnace,
“Fedra i ddim magu plant ar y pitw o
gyflog ‘ w’ti’n roi i mi.”
He gathered himself and
raised his arms as if in surrender. “Cŵl
ed! ”
She appeared at the door –
a once good looking woman in a flowered dress.
“Cŵl ed? Hefo chdi fath a gŵr? Dwi di dwad i ben
fy nhennyn yn trio rhoi bwyd ar y bwr’ ar dy gyflog pitw di – Maen nhw’n tyfu
fyny rwan ac yn byta cimint a dynion”
“W’ ti’n cal digon o’nghyflog i’n barod!”
“Dos o’ngolwg i’r hen gythral!” The door shut with an expressive slam.
The elderly Mrs Evans let
the curtain drop hurriedly when she saw Tom look her way and shuffled off to
the kitchen in the rear where her husband was studying the Caernarfon &
Denbigh Herald.
“ Mae Twm a Phyllis wrthi eto. This time it looks as if
she’s thrown him out for good!”
There was no sound from her
partner
“Mae ‘na lot o bwysa ar Phyllis,wsti, dw i’n
cyfadda. Ond mae Ifan yn mynd i’r iwnifersiti flwyddyn nesaf . Mi neith betha’n
haws iddi hi”
Pause for response from her husband.
“Ella”. That couldn’t get him into
trouble!
“Ella wir – Os
ti’n gofyn i mi – ma petha ‘di bod yn wael ers diwedd y rhyfel. Roedd y ddau fatha pobl ddiarth ar ôl iddo fo
ddod adra. Tybed pa fath o dricia oedd o wrthi yn yr armi.”
“Dim byd
i gymharu hefo sud oedd hi’n bihafio hefo peilots tua Pwllheli,” thought Mr Evans but said nothing.
Twm was sitting in his
green Austin A35, a very small car which looked comically smaller after he had crammed
his bulk inside.
“Mai’n ffarwel i mi hefo’r hen wrach ‘na”
***
Page 30
She walked with assumed nonchalance to the gate
where Ifan waited. His greeting was not overly romantic.
“Lle ‘dach chi wedi bod mor hir? Wn i ddim be goblyn ma’r genod yn ‘neud
yn y tŷ bach mor hir.”
She replied in English, not because it was her
natural language but because it was hip and, in the context of Penygroes School,
as rebellious an act as eating chips from the paper whilst walking along the road
and anyway Natalie Wood spoke English didn’t she?
“Well thanks
for the welcome. Where we going then? You’re the one who asked me, remember?”
“Chippy do you?”
“Have to wont it.”
Her coolness hid Gwen’s frantic heart beats. They
walked and exchanged terse apparently indifferent phrases. He asked, “Pam goblyn w’t ti’n siarad Saesnag? Hogan
Gymraeg w’t ti.”
“Oh sorri, my lordship! I’ll
speak whatever bloody language I like when I’m outside those gates.”
The “bloody”
was very out of character for Gwen, but extreme measures were called for to
match him today.
“Iawn, Dwi isho siarad Cymraeg”
Gwen looked away feigning indifference. “Dim ots gen i.” This was not a good start.
Twenty minutes later they were sitting on a bench
in the park eating their chips with cool nonchalance.
“Gwych”, said Ifan
“Gwych”, echoed Gwen in a low resonant tone that had taken a lot of
practice. She hurled her paper into the
bin with a casual accuracy that betrayed her captaincy of the netball
team. She spoilt the intimation of
rebelliousness by adding,
“ Well i ni fynd cyn bo hir. Dwi ddim isio bod yn hwyr.” Neither, in truth, did Ifan.
“Iawn. Mi awn ni reit handi.”
She looked at him with a certain amount of
challenge.
“W’t ti’n
edrych ‘mlaen i adael ‘rysgol?”
“Wrth gwrs.” Who could say anything else? He looked into her blue eyes for the first
time that lunch hour. “W’t ti ddim?”
“I fod yn hollol onest, nag-dw.”
“Pam? Mi fydd hi’n gyfle i gael ‘madael a’r iwnifform, a’r twps o
athrawon, a rheola.”
“Wn i’im. Dw i’n licio rhai o’r titshars. Mae Mrs Llwyd yn iawn. A mae’n sâff yma.”
“Rhy sâff ‘swn i’n deud.”
“Ella wir. Ond fydd bywyd ddim ’run peth o hyn ymlaen.”
“W’t ti’n dal i fod isho nyrsio?”
“Ydw.”
“Lle, felly?”
“Dwi ‘di trio am le yn ‘sbyty Lerpwl, ond dwi’m yn siwr os ‘dwi isho
mynd. Be amdanat ti? Bangor?”
“Ella! Mae’n dibynnu. Beth bynnag, ‘dw i’n edrach ‘mlaen i ddianc o’r
twll yma”
A longish pause, full of electricity followed until
Ifan ventured,
“F’aset ti’n licio dwad i’r pictiwrs fory?”
Gwen’s heart leapt with a silent cry of triumph but
she managed to look controlled and disinterested.
“Wn i’im. Pa ffilm sy’na?” Frankly
it would have made no difference.
“Tommy Steel – The Duke wore Jeans?”
She made a few noises suggesting thought and tried
to answer as unconcernedly as possible,
“Pam lai?”
***
Page 41
Beth Llwyd now had the young Ifan in her classroom
in the act of promising, yet again, to swallow his pride and apologise to Mr
Daniels for taking a short cut in the cross country run and being heard
describing the school rugby team as “gwartheg ond heb ‘u brêns.”
“Iawn Ifan
bach. Paid a’u hypsetio nhw am fis arall ac mi fyddi di allan o’r giatia
‘na heb staen ar dy record di. Os ydi’r
risylts yn debyg i’r gobeithion – mi fyddi yn yr iwnifersiti. W’t ti wedi
trafod y matar adra?”
“Do.”
“Ydyn nhw’n cefnogi’r syniad?”
“Ydyn ond….” a long silent pause “Dw i’m yn siwr eto.”
“Pam Ifan bach?”
“Pres yn un peth a’mrawd ar y llaw arall. Dwi’m iso’i adal o adra ar ‘i
ben ‘i hun hefo’r chwerwder rhwng mam a dad.”
“Ond rwyt ti isio mynd?”
There was no hesitation “Wrth gwrs”, he said, staring disbelievingly back at her.
“Ifan, cofia, y bydd pethau’n well i dy fam o safbwynt ariannol ar ôl i
ti fynd - nid yn waeth! Bydd dy fwyd yn
dod o dy grant a bydd llai o bwysau ar gyllid teulu. Ynglŷn â dy frawd … Faint
‘di oed o?”
“Wyth”
“ Rargian! – Ma’
na dipyn o flynyddoedd rhyngddo chi.”
Beth Llwyd nearly bit her tongue off regretting the
comment immediately. There were places where it was better not to probe.
“Yn Ysgol
Bryngwyn mae o? Hefo Mr Griffiths?”
“Ia”
“Mae o mewn
dwylo saff felly. Be’ ma’ dy frawd yn feddwl o’r sefyllfa?”
“Tydi o ddim isio
i mi fynd, ond mae o reit fodlon hefo’r sefyllfa. Os ca’ i le ym Mangor mi fydd
hynny’n ddigon agos i ddod adra yn aml. Llai nag ugain milltir: awr
ar y bys. Mae o’n licio ffwtbol a dw i wedi gaddo mynd â fo i weld Bangor yn
chwara weithiau a hyn yn oed Lerpwl rywbryd.”
Beth Llwyd laughed, knowing Ifan’s antipathy to the
sports staff.
“A thithau hefo dim diddordeb yn y gêm.”
“Does dim byd o’i le hefo ffwtbol. Holl agwedd ffascaidd yr adran sy’n
g’neud i fi chwdu!”
“Taw Ifan. Ond paid a siomi dy
frawd bach - na neb arall.”
He looked up straight into her eyes, grinned at her
and she felt 16 all over again. She got
up hurriedly to hide her middle aged blushes.
“Dos rwan, a dim mwy o dy lol hefo Mr Daniel. Addo i fi Ifan!”
“Iawn Miss Llwyd.”
***
Page 44
“Beth pe bawn i’n deud petha hegar am bobol hefo
gwallt coch?” Elsbeth Ty-Capel grimaced
and shook her distinctive red hair as all the class looked in her direction.
“Neu wallt du fath a brân” There were three candidates
for this: Bryn, Meinir or Elen. The class stared at them and the two girls
giggled in embarrassment.
“Beth am blant tal?” It was William’s turn to be the centre of
attention. “Neu gwallt hefo plethi
(Rhiannon) llygaid glas (Ann) neu rhai’n gwisgo cardigans gwlan (June) neu
sgidia hoelion – neu rwbath arall sy’n ein gwneud nhw’n wahanol?”
“Sut dechreuodd y trwbwl yn yr iard ddoe? Bryn!
Ti’n gwybod, ‘dwyt?”
Bryn did not clam up immediately as Mr Griffiths
had feared. It was almost as if he wanted a confessional – a chance to get a
weight off his mind. He hesitated, started to speak, stopped, looked down,
“Roedd Gwylim yn gwneud sbort am ein penna’ ni.”
“Sut?”
Bryn looked up and looked
straight and fearlessly into the head teachers eyes,
“Mae o’n meddwl ei fod mor grand hefo’i gap ysgol grachlyd a’i Saesnag
crand.”
“Beth ‘nath o i ti?”
A long silence.
“Ddeudodd o rywbeth i dy ypsetio ti?”
“Do”
“Be?”
“Mi roedd o’n gofyn am Mam.”
“Gofyn be?”
“Ei henw, a lliw ei gwallt a ballu.”
“A dyna’r cyfan?”
There was no answer this
time. Mr Griffiths switched to safer territory.
“Sut ma’ dy frawd? Cofia ddeud wrtho fo am ddod
draw cyn mynd i Fangor.”
Bryn’s head rose like a
flower greeting the sun.
“Mi ‘na i.”
***
Page 49
The Headmaster looked at
him as if at his alter-ego
“Mae’n
ymddangos eich bod chi’n anwybyddu rhanau pwysig ohonoch chi’ch hun – eich
hanes a’ch dywylliant.”
The change of language
brought Ifan’s head up
“Ia syr.
Yn union.”
“ Ifan. Mae pob rheswm dw i wedi roi i ti am y
ffordd mae’r ysgol yn cael ei rhedeg yn hollol wir. Ond, fath a chditha dw’i
breuddwydio am weld Ysgolion Cymraeg mewn ardoloedd fel hyn. Paid byth ag amau
hynny.”
The Headteacher stood up
and went over to his sideboard, collected a leaflet which he placed on the desk
in front of Ifan.
“Mi ro’i newyddion da i chdi i dy gadw di i
fynd. Am y pum mlynedd diwetha ‘ma, dw i wedi bod yn gweithio fel rhan o grwp i
sefydlu Ysgol Uwchradd Gymraeg i blant a fydd yn sicrhau fod pob plentyn yn
enill sgiliau hanfodol yn Saesneg. Ym
mis Medi bydd ysgol newydd wedi’i sefydlu yn Rhyl, Ysgol Glan Clwyd, gyda phob
pwnc yn cael ei ddysgu drwy gyfrwng y Gymraeg. Ond mae ‘na ddigon o bobl sy’n
amau doethindeb y fath lwybr: sy’n mynnu ein bod ni’n tywys plant deallus i
gyrion addysg. Dydw i ddim yn cytuno â nhw.”
“Os oes gynnoch chi gariad at yr iaith fel y
dywedsoch wrtha i, a fel mae Miss Llwyd yn dweud wrtha’ i, y peth gora’ fyddai
i ti sicrhau llwyddiant i’r fenter – a gobeithio nad yw hyn ond y cam cyntaf i
sefydlu ysgolion eraill o’r un math. Ond cyn i ti wneud cyfraniad mae angen i
ti gael gradd dda a llawer mwy o sgiliau diplomataidd. Mae Mr Danials yn Gymro
da ac yn athro da hefyd, a gall fod o help i chdi – Paid â gwneud gelynion o
bobl fel fo. Ti’n dallt?
“Ydw Syr.”
***
Page 73
She was determined that the
boys would not repeat her mistakes. She had told them again and again,
“Gwna rwbath o dy hun ‘machgan i. Paid a gadal i
bobol ddeud wrthat ti am fodloni bod yn y fath dwll â hwn ac i weithio yn yr un
chwarel a laddodd dy daid. W’ ti’n werth mwy na hyn. Gaddo i mi.”
***
Page 79
“Gwna hyn
i ni – chdi a fi a Bryn. ‘Nei di?”
Ifan found it hard to
believe that she could respond so cruelly to his success. But he spoke softly.
“Ond, Cymraeg ydw i ‘isio ‘neud Mam, yn fwy na
dim.”
She looked at him again
seeing her own stubbornness in the set of his jaw. She looked into her son’s
eyes; soft, but gleaming with certainty and she knew there was no point.
She fell into the chair by
the fire, quite defeated and stared ahead of her fixedly.
“Mam?
Mam? ‘Da chi’n iawn?” ventured Ifan quiety.
There was no word of reply.
***
Page 83
“Llongyfarchiadau ar dy resylts Ifan Jones - a thitha Gwen”
“Diolch Mrs Llwyd.” They
both looked awkwardly and disbelievingly at the examination result slips in
their hands.
.
“Beth” o hyn ymlaen plis. Reit – Peidiwch ag
edrych mor syn! Dathlwch! Mae’r ddau
ohonoch chi wedi g’neud mor dda – yn llawer gwell nad oedd ei angen i gael lle
ym Mangor Ifan a thithau yn Lerpwel Gwen. Dw i mor falch o’r ddau ohonoch.
Rhowch gwtch i fi.”
In the entrance hall Beth Llwyd
hugged her protégé and his girlfriend.
“Rwan ta – ffoniwch eich teuluoedd. Gewch i
iwsio’r ffôn yn yr offis. Chdi gynta’ Gwen.”
Gwen looked at Ifan with a
grin. Beth Llwyd obviously wanted a moment alone with her favourite prodigy.
She ran off.
“Sut mae dy fam rwan?”
“Mi ddaw rownd mewn amser – gobeithio.”
“A dy dad?”
“Wrth ei fodd!
Bygwth dod draw i ambell ddarlith.”
She reached into her bag a
produced a small, green volume.
“Rhywbeth bach i’ch atgoffa amdanon ni.”
Mae ffôn nymbar ni tu fewn os wyt ti eisio cadw mewn cysylltiad.”
“Diolch Miss Llwyd.”
“Croeso.” She was close to tears. “Rwan, fy hogyn drwg.” She flung her arms about him. Gwen’s voice
quietly interrupted
“Gai o’n nôl rwan, Miss?”
“Cei siwr Gwen. Madda i mi fel hen ffŵl
wirion. Reit - Edrychwch ar ôl eich
gilydd.”
“Rwan, Ifan cer i ffonio dy fam!” Ifan did
not move.
“Does ganddi ddim diddordeb, bellach”
“Paid a bod mor ddwl! Wrth gwrs mae ganddi hi!
Dos i ffonio.”
***
Page 88
Her mother
produced a photo of herself in full starched uniform on the steps of the
Nurses’ Home in 1922.
“Sbia ar y startch yn y ffedog yna -
Yn fy nyddia’ i mi fuo raid iti starchio popeth – a mi roedd y sgert yn
cyrradd dy draed. Mae pethau wedi newid
lot erbyn hyn. Ma’n nhw’n gwisgo llewys byr a bibs yn lle’r hen dentia hyll
na. Mae ganddyn nhw hetiau del “pill
box” yn lle y bonedau gwirion yna fel dw i’n gwisgo yn y llun ‘na. Dwi eisio
llun cyn gynted ag y byddi di wedi setlo I lawr.”
“Iawn Mam”
***
Page 90
“Beth am
dad?” asked Ifan. Bryn shrugged and made no comment. He had never felt
close to his father, and now he had moved out or “Wedi rhoir gorau i ni”, as his
Mother preferred it, his father had become a mildly embarrassing
irrelevance.
“Fo sy’n ennill y pres i’n cadw ni. Dydi Mam ddim ond ennill pitw o
gyflog.”
“Wir?” replied Bryn without looking up. He said nothing. Suddenly, he looked up and asked the question that was
worried him.
“Fyddi di a Gwen yn aros yn gariadon?”
“Gobeithio. W’ ti’n licio Gwen ond w’t ti?”
“Ydw. Mae’n hogan neis.”
“Gobeithio fedran ni fynd hefo’n gilydd I Lerpwl rywbryd i weld y
ffwtbol a’i chyfarfod hi eto.”
“Ti am addo?
“Ydw siwr.”
That was the third time he’d promised so he had to make it happen.
***
Page 104
When the hands of the schoolroom clock reached 3:30
the children put their equipment in their desks and waited in silence for Mr
Griffiths to dismiss them – a row at a time.
“Bryn, Ti’ gw’bod bod dy fam yn dy ‘nôl di heno, ‘dwyt?
“Ydw Syr”
“Iawn. Noswaith dda blant. A
chofiwch, cymerwch ofal ar y lôn.”
“Noswaith dda Mr Griffiths”, they chorused and filed out a
row at a time.
Mr Griffiths had seen Phyllis’ outline through the
obscured glass panels in the walls of the classroom. He followed out the last
of the children and greeted her,
“P’nawn da, Mrs
Jones.”
“P’nawn da, Gerallt”
No other parent could greet him by his Christian
name. Very few parents knew his Christian name. She was challenging from the
start. He made a decision.
“Dewch mewn ----
Phillys”
He
remembered Bryn was hoping about awkwardly.
“ Dos allan i chwara’ yn yr iard am ddeng munud ‘nei di Bryn? Ma’ dy fam
a minna am gael sgwrs.”
Bryn exited with little enthusiasm.
“Oes gen ti ots ‘mod i’n ista yn fam’ma?”
asked Phyllis as she slid into one of the
children’s desks. “O’n i’n arfer ista yn
fam’ma bum mlynedd ar hugain yn ôl.”
“Diolch byth ‘mod i ddim yma ar y pryd”, answered Mr Griffiths. They both
laughed ambiguously.
“Rwan Phyllis, be fedra i ‘neud i ti?
“Reit. Dw i am i Bryn ga’l ‘i addysg yn Saesnag o
hyn ymlaen.”
Mr Griffiths did not respond. He scarcely
understood her meaning. Noting his silent astonishment she continued,
“Dw i wedi cl’wad fod ‘na dri neu bedwar yn cael eu gwersi drwy’r
Saesnag a ‘dwi eisio Bryn ymuno â nhw.”
“Pam?”
“Dw’i am iddo ddod yn hollol rugl yn Saesneg.” She paused for a response, volunteering no more..
“Ma’n amlwg. Ond pam? ‘W ti’n
gwybod ei fod o’n cael digon o Saesneg ar gyfer yr ilefn plys, a hen ddigon i
gael gwaith yn y ffatri newydd sy’n dod i Benygroes, os y myn o. Cofia,
Phyllis, hogyn bach Cymraeg ydi o. Dwyt ti ddim isio torri’i galon o drw’ ‘neud
iddo fo gyfarthrebu yn Saesnag drw’r amser.”
She looked defiantly up at him enjoying the frisson.
“Dyma be’ dw i isio. Rydach chi wedi g’neud digon i’r Saeson sy’ wedi setlo yma. Digon teg fod
y Cymry yn cael ‘run chwara’ teg.”
“Nid Saeson ydyn nhw - ond Cymry o’r Sowth.”
“Ta waeth. – Fel rhiant dw i
eisia ‘run cyfla i’m mab inna hefyd. A dyna diwedd arni.”
“Dw i am i Bryn ‘neud rhwbath ohono’i hun.” She
looked down not wanting eye contact with “Gerallt” whilst she said the
unacceptable. “Dwi ddim yn fodlon ei weld
o’n aros yn y twll yma i weithio am bitw o gyflog.”
Mr Griffiths looked hard at her. He refused to
answer until she lifted her head. She did so with defiance.
“Am Ifan wyt ti’n siarad. Paid byth a meddwl fod Ifan yn methu o gwbl.
Mae’n ddyn ifanc, clyfar, a chlên - gobaith y genhedlaeth nesa’. Hefyd, mae
ganddo fo galon ac yn dilyn ei gydwybod, a dyna’r ffordd i fodlonrwydd gwaith a
bywyd.”
He continued with cruelty,
“ Dyna beth nad wyt ti ‘rioed wedi’i ddarganfod Phyllis: bodlonrwydd y
galon.”
She looked up at him with something approaching hate.
“Dw i am i Bryn gael ei ddysgu yn Saesnag. W’t ti’n dallt?”
Mr Griffiths had no option.
“Ydw, ond …………….”
There was no point in his ending the sentence.
Phyllis flowed out of the room with dignity,
tears but style.
***
Page 119
Phyllis sat next to the Rayburn whilst across the
small kitchen-come-sitting room Bryn laboured over homework.
“How are you doing Bryn?”
“Go lew mam
ond dydw i ddim yn licio syms”
“In English my boy.”
Bryn groaned.
“These sums
are hard enough without having to deal with them in English.”
“Numbers are
the same thing in Welsh and English.”
“Yes – Hard!”
They both laughed and silence resumed with Phyllis
pleased at her insistence on English. She looked once more at the jobs page.
Mam!” said Bryn in the familiar
rising tone that meant a request. “Man,
Pam ma’ rhaid i mi ista hefo’r hogyn Saesnag na’n lle hefo Meirion Tŷ Glas?
“W ti’n gwybod’r atab cystal â fi, Bryn – rydan ni wedi ‘i drafod o. Mae Saesneg yn bwysig i dy
ddyfodol di.”
***
Page 123
John Prichard, who
had shown no sign of being awake through either presentation, raised an index
finger to attract the Chairman’s attention. The language of the meeting
reverted to Welsh.
“Dwi’n ddiolchgar iawn i’r Cynghorydd Edwards a’r Cynghorydd
Thomas am eu gwaith. Ac yn fy marn i does dim dewis ganddon ni ond derbyn y
cais. Ond cyn i ni symyd ‘mlaen ga’i longyfarch y Cynghorydd Thomas am fod y dyn cyntaf, yn fy
mhrofiad i, a dwi wedi bod yma ers ugain mlynedd, i annerch y Cyngor hwn yn
Saesneg. Nid ’mod i’n hoff o’r ‘Iaith
fain’ fy hun ond rhaid i ni dderbyn pwysigrwydd o weithio trwy gyfrwng y Saesnag ‘dyddiau yma.”
There were grunts
of agreement and a few “Na”s of dissent. Councillor Elias suggested an audit of
the sewage arrangements of council owned properties. He then turned to another
matter,
“Fel arfer, Cymraeg ydi iaith ein Cyfarfodydd ni, a Chymraeg ydi iaith
ein hardaloedd ni. Tydw i ddim yn
croesawu’r Saesneg yma o gwbl fel iaith ein cyfarfodydd. Rhaid i ni warchod ein hiaith a pheidio
gada’l y Saesneg ein dylanwadu – yn enwedig mewn ardal mor Gymreigaidd â
Gwyrfai.”
Glan was alarmed by
the reaction. The meeting became animated. Councillors talked across each other. “Diolch am eich sylwada” said the chair,
“Gawn ni symud at bleidlais rwan os
gwelwch yn dda.”
***
Page 136
“Does dim syniad ganddyn nhw be’ di bywyd
gwleidyddol go iawn. Dim ond chwarae maen nhw, ond mewn modd alla’ achosi
difrod a dioddefaint mawr. ‘Rarglwydd mawr! Pwy ‘di’r Gwynfor ma?. Dyn o’r
Barri ydy o – does ganddo fo’r run syniad sut mae pethau yn cael eu gwneud ym
Maldwyn. Mae o’n mynnu bod yr hawl
ganddo fo i ymyrryd ym musnes Capel Celyn jest am ei fod o’n sefyll dros Blaid
Cymru yn y ‘lecsiwn - does ganddyn nhw’r ‘run gobaith caneri o ennill sêt yng
Nghymru.”
Pwy ddeudodd, “Politics is the art of the possible”?”
“Bismarck” responded Dafydd
“Yn union. Ond erbyn hyn mae cyfaddawdu
bron yn amhosibl.”
***
Page 168
Their
desertion of Chapel Brygwyn was noted with disapproval, and commented upon. The
Reverend Elias had discussed Gwilym and his family with Mr Griffiths at one of
their regular meetings.
The Minister remained defiant, “Mae’n anodd
iddyn nhw dw i’n cyfadda, ond tydw i ddim am newid iaith y capal ar’u cyfer
nhw. Cofiwch chi Mr Griffiths, Capel Gymraeg a Chymreig ydy Capel Bryn Gwyn.
Dwi’n bugeilio dros braidd sy’n hollol Gymraeg yn ‘u bywyda a’u diwylliant - a
rhan o’m swydd i ydy cadw allan y dylanwada’ sy’n amharu ar ‘u ffordd nhw o
fyw. ‘Dach chi’n cytuno, siŵr?”
Mr Griffiths
shook his had in sadness rather than disagrement, “ Ydw - i radda’. Ond fe
wyddwch fod sefyllfa’r ysgolion yn dra gwahanol. Mae gennym ddyletswydd i roi
rhan o addysg y plant drwy gyfrwng y Saesnag hefyd. Mae gynnon ni gyfrifoldeb i
fod yn atebol i ddymuniadau rhesymol rhieni’r plant. Dyna ‘di’r gyfraith.”
“Ella wir! Dyna pam’dan ni’n anghydffurfwyr. Mae ‘n hendadau wedi
talu’n ddrud am yr hawl i addoli yn ein ffydd a’n mamiaith ein hunain er
gwaethaf cyfraith yr Eglwys yn Lloegr a gorthrwm yr hen dirfeddiannwyr.”
Mr
Griffiths was anxious to get away before the Minister started to refight the
battle for church disestablishment.
***
Page 189
She was re-assured by defamatory descriptions
of girls in his year, particularly the three from the Home Counties who went
about “fel tair hen wrach yn trio edrach
fel Y Beverly Sisters. Mae Angie, y
peroxide blond, yn arwain y criw. Wedyn Catherine a Suzanne yn ei chanlyn fel
dwy bwdl gyda gormod o rubannau yn eu ffwr. A mae eu hacenion yn anhygoel o
posh. I gyd yn siarad heb agor eu
cegau fel y mae’r Saeson.”
***
Page 198
They were
delighted that Twm’s son was doing a degree. . “Wyt ti am weithio fel athro ar ôl y brifysgol? Roedd Yncl William yn
athro ‘lawr yn Abergele; felly mae traddodiad yn y teulu.” They wanted to
know about Gwen whom they remembered from Liverpool.
“Duwcs annw’l – ‘na hogan ddel - Dal d’ afa’l yni
hi boi. Neu fydd y lladron diawl ‘na o Lerpwl yn ei dwyn hi – maen nhw’n dwyn popeth arall.”
Ifan
congratulated the Rowlands’ on their part in the campaign and the television
debate in Manchester which they had both attended. They looked doubtful,
“Dd’wedon ni ddim boi. Ffermwyr ydan ni, nid
gwleidyddion. I fod yn onast, ni wn i a ydan ni’n cael dylanwad neu beidio – Ac mae’n gythra’l
o straen ar ôl d’wrnod o waith.”
It appeared a
good moment to mention the reason for the visit. The date of the debate in the
House of Commons had been set for July 3rd. It would be followed by
a vote which, if won, would empower Liverpool Corporation to issue compulsory
purchase orders on 900 acres of Cwm Tryweryn - including Hafod Lwyd. Ifan and his fellow campaigners would be at
Westminster that day. But they had heard from Plaid Cymru that the inhabitants
of Capel Celyn would not.
“Pam? ‘Dach chi ddim i fod i roi’r ffidil yn y to
cyn i’r gêm orffan?
There was a
long, long silence broken only by Mrs Rowlands going to the grate for more hot
water and replenishing the tea pot.
“Ifan bach – mi ‘dach chi’n hogia ifanc hefo
addysg ac egni. Dydan ni ddim yn hen ond rydan wedi diodda deunaw mis o
ansicrwydd a straen. Roedd y daith i Manceinion wedi bod yn ddiwedd y gân i mi
ac Ifor. Fedran ni ddim g’neud mwy - yn enwedig pan ma’ popeth yn edrach yn
wâst hollol. Diolch i’r ddau ohonoch chi
am ddwad yma heddiw. Rydan ni’n ddiolchgar tu hwnt ac os ewch i Lundain ar ein
rhan ni, mi fyddwn yn wir ddiolchgar. Ma’r pentra ‘ma yn fy ngwaed i –
does dim pwysicach heblaw y plant. Ond peidiwch a gofyn i ni wneud rhagor o
dripiau allan o Gymru i lefydd di-Gymraeg lle mae pobl yn edrych arnon ni fel
ffurf o fywyd is-raddol neu’n trin ni fel’sa ni’n llaid dan’i sodlau.”
There were
tears in the corners of her eyes which she tried to blink away. Ifor’s silence
spoke his uncomfortable acceptance of all his wife had said. There was no point
in pressing the matter. When it was time to go, Mrs Rowland embraced the two “bechgyn fein” and gave them each a loaf
of bara brith. Mr Rowlands ran them back to the station in time for their
train.
“Diolch Syr,” they
both said. “A diolch i Mrs Rowlands hefyd
am de mor flasus.”
“Pleser,”said Mr
Rowlands. “A maddau i ni os ydan ni wedi
eich siomi.”
***
Page 225
“Tewch.
Tewch RŴAN! Mi fydda’ dipyn bach o bwyll o help. Tewch!”
Anna challenged
them,
“Ond rhaid i ni ddal ati! Dw i’m yn fodlon derbyn
penderfyniad Tŷ’r Cyffredin. Ydych chi?”
“Byth.”
“Felly rhaid
dyfeisio tactegau fydd yn cael effaith drawiadol: pethau fydd yn aflonyddu’r
bobl hefo grym.”
“Iawn ond sut, clefar clogs?”, shouted a voice.
Anna had come prepared. Still standing on her
chair she read a piece from the Daily Post reporting that Henry Brook planned
to visit the National Eisteddfod in Llangefni in August. Despite calls from prominent
figures that the invitation should be withdrawn, the Eisteddfod Council were
adamant that Henry Brooke would be a welcome guest.
There were groans
from the group. “Bradwyr! Hollol
nodweddiadol o Gyngor yr Eisteddfod. Paid ag ypsetio unrhyw Sais o bwys – dim
ots pa niwed mae o’n ei ‘neud i Gymru.”
***
Page 294
Owen
was his mother’s biggest worry. He had
looked for jobs, “Chwara teg i’r hogyn.
Mae o wedi trio. Mi ath o yr holl ffordd i Bwlhelli i chwilio am waith w’sti.” The trouble was he was losing his confidence,
becoming lethargic.
“I ble’r aeth o
rwan?”
asked Gwen. Owen was probably in the bus shelter or café with friends. Was there any hope of work? Gwen’s mother hesitated. “Does na ddim fan’ma nac yn yr ardal chwaith - ond, a dyna’r drwg -dod
- ma’r tri wedi cael cynnig job mewn ffatri enjiniring yn Coventry ‘wsti.” Owen’s
two years in Ferranti had given him skills that would be useful to Brown
Brothers of Coventry – Farranti’s rivals. Owen did not want to go. “Ond
dach chi ddim am iddo fo fynd i Coventry, nag ydach?” Of course her mam didn’t. “Er ei les ei hyn rhaid iddo fo fanteisio ar
y cyfle.”
“Nei di
gael gair bach yn ei glust o, Gwen?”
“I’ll try. We’ll go for a drink in The Goat
later.”
“Diolch Gwen. Os gin ti bres? Ti fydd yn
talu. Does gin Owen ‘run geiniog.”
The Goat was
hard work. Owen was uncommunicative. By
the second pint he had loosened up enough for her to mention Coventry. He did
not want to go. “Dyn fy milltir sgwâr
‘dwi wsti.”
“Owen, Siarada hefo
fi wnei di.” He played with his beer mat for a time then looked up
at her. “Be’n union w’t ti’n fwriadu
‘neud flwyddyn nesa’ ar ol gorffan dy gwrs ysbyty?”
.
***
Page 297
“Anhygoel. Ma’n nhw’n ymddiheuro i ti!” . She then turned on the other two boys
challenging each in turn. “Arnon ni mae’r
bai os oes rhaid beio rhywun.”
They
reminded her that the demonstration against Henry Brooke, which she had
organised, had been effective. He had cancelled his visit. Anna dismissed this.
It had been a gesture but it had not put any real pressure on the Minister.
“Rhaid, Rhaid
Rhaid i ni ‘neud rhywbeth mwy!”
“Ond be?” asked
Ianto with a shrug, “Rydan ni wedi trio
popeth. Be’ sy’ ar ôl ond trais? Dyna be
ti’n awgyrmu ‘wneud?”
“Ella.”
***
Page 322
“Wrth gwrs dos ‘na neb arall. Yr hurtyn gwirion!
Dwi’n dy garu di Ifan. Dallt? A dw i eisiau dy gadw di – ond nid os wyt ti isho
dianc. Dallt rwan twpsyn?”
“Ydw – Dwi’n meddwl”
“A phaid â deud dy fod eisio amser i feddwl”
“Pam lai?”
“Achos, os o
es rhaid i ti gael amser i feddwl - mae’n amlwg nag wyt am aros yn y berthynas.
A, beth bynnag - Ma’ mws i’n mynd mewn
awr a hannar. FELLY-----?”
Ifan’s
thoughts whirled.
“Gwen. Plîs, paid a bod mor galed. Dwi’m yn
gw’bod a dyna’r gwir. Dwi’m yn gallu g’neud penderfyniada’ drosof i fy hun am yr wsnos nesa’ heb son am ‘neud
penderfyniad holl bwysig am weddill f’oes!”
“Iawn!” said Gwen. “Dwi’n dallt.”
She kissed him
on the cheek and went to pack. She was still crying when the bus reached Liverpool.
***
Page 341
“Faswn i’n
lico gwthio tipyn o synnwyr cyffredin i mewn i’r ddau ohonyn’ nhw. Mae Gwen mor
benstiff a fo. Gwrthod siarad hefo neb ac aros yn i’stafell yn y ‘sbyty bob
munud nad ydy hi ar y ward. Bobol bach – plant ‘te!”
***
Page 341
“Paid ag edrach arna i fel ‘na chwaith. Hen
gyfaill ydi o – be sy’o’i le ar g’warfod hen ffrindia ’weithia’? W’t ti’m am
ddwad i fy ngwarchod, rhag drwg.”
***
Page 350
Ifan protested
that there was nothing they could do that would be effective. Strikes appeared
the best weapon but the unions were not interested. Demonstrations had failed. He looked up.
“Ydach chi’n ystyriad trais?”
“Yn sicr. Nid yn erbyn unigolion ond yr erbyn
eiddo, neu adeilada’, neu gofebau o bwys.”
“Na Anna. Tasa ni’n medru g’neud rwbath felly, mi
fuasa’r mwyafrif o bobl yn ein condemio ni. Dyma pam mae gweithgaredda’ o’r
fath yn cael eu gwrthod gan Gwynfor Evans.”
“Ond mae
Saunders Lewis yn ein hannog ni i weithredu fel hyn.”
“Ydi. Yr union ddyn ro’th ei gefnogaeth i Franco
– does ryfadd fod o wedi colli cefnogaeth y werin yma. Y dyn sy’ rwan yn erbyn yr Orsaf Atomig yn
Nhrawsfynydd – dim ots am y dorf o bobl sy’n ddi-waith yn ‘rardal. Does ganddo fo ddim gobaith caneri i blesio’r
werin ar ôl be mae o wedi’i ddeud a’i wneud.”
“Ella wir. Ond dyna pam ma’n rhaid i ni weithredu
mewn rhyw fodd gwahanol dros y wlad -
gan bobl ifanc sy’ ddigon glew a dewr.
Dwi’n fodlon.”
She had ideas
what the targets might be. From her jacket appeared a list. Ifan looked at it and at her. This was no
joke. She suggested the Temple of Peace
in Cardiff because that was where the Council of Wales met. In Liverpool, the
statue of Queen Victoria outside Lime Street had symbolic value. In London, her
target would be the Ministry where Henry Brooke was based.
“Be dach chi’n fwriadu ‘neud felly –
ffrwydriadau? bomio?
“Yn union.”
“Oes gen ti ddeinameit yn dy bocad ‘ta be?”
“Nagoes”
“Neu unrhyw syniad lle i ddod o hyd iddo?”
“Dim eto”
“Anna, ‘dach chi’n hogan annw’l, ond peidiwch â
bod mor blydi hurt.”
Ifan pushed the list back and left. Her stare burned
into his back.
***
Page 351
He was moved
by a message from Gwynfor Evans,
“Dyma rywbeth o werth wedi ei gyflawni,
rhywbeth a fydd yn rhoi rhywfaint mwy o liw a chyfoeth ym mywyd Cymru, a fydd
yn cyfrannu at ei hunaniaeth a’i hymdeimlad o
***
Page 368
She
recognised one of the officers as local.
“Tom, Tom Parry ia?
Be’ gredi’r iddo fod wedi ei neud?
W’ti‘n nabod y mab i. Mae o’n hogyn da tydi? Mistêc ydi hyn, Siŵr Dduw! ”
Tom
Parry looked awkward and did not reply. The second officer responded.
“In English if you
please Madame. I take it you are Ifan Jones’ mother?”
***
Page 391
Apart from councillors, politicians of all colours
and business people, there were men and women of the town who had known Dafydd
as “Hogyn o’r dre” . Huw T described
him as “Dyn Mawr o dre’r Co Bach” .
Goronwy Roberts described him as “a true
friend and a gallant fighter for the values that make our lives worth living.”
The singing was passionate and the weeping came from deep inside.
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