Liam Ó Maonlaí
Musician
There was a gentleness to Manchán. He was an otherworldly guy. I remember going on a long drive with him about three years ago from Donegal to Connemara. I had a story to tell him about my childhood. It was a very personal story. He threw light on it in a way that I’m still benefiting from. I was talking about something that might have been a traumatic experience for me, and I was about three years old. And he said, “Oh, so you had to fly at a young age”. And so, instead of it being a burden, it demanded of me to look at life with a critical eye. In other words: to learn to fly.
I’m in Kilkenny now and I played a gig with Rónán Ó Snodaigh last night. Diarmuid Lyng, the hurler, was there. At the end of the night, the three of us held hands and said a prayer for Manchán on the street. It was before the word came. We were just imagining that he was there at the gates, going, “Do I stay or go?” We sent him a prayer saying, “We’re with you”. That was last night. We got to the B&B and Rónán came in and said, “Tá sé imithe”.
Kerri ní Dochartaigh
Author
Being with you was always a sacred act; a way to make the unseen visible; an invitation into the love that is the fabric of our being.
You were the first person I told in person that I was carrying my first child. That moment will stay with me always, and speaks so much of who you are. You walking out of the lake the first day lockdown eased, rain pouring down, me running into the lake, no one else there and then you are dancing, you are dancing, you are dancing. You casting your spell on that creature inside me; singing words in our native tongue through thick neoprene, like the ancient guide that you always will be. That child loves you for the being you are: mystical, miraculous man.
RM Block
The love you shared with those in your life was more than words can say. You scattered your acorns and we will watch them grow into tall, strong, caring elders.
May you be held in light, welcomed so tenderly in that place to which you are travelling, you weaver of brightness.
You are loved in the ways of moss, and of oak; of river and of stone; of snail and of wren.
President Michael D Higgins
Uachtarán na hÉireann
Manchán truly lived an inspirational life and helped so many people to find a deeper meaning in their lives.
While rightly proud of his family’s contribution to Irish culture and history, including his great-granduncle The O’Rahilly and his grandmother Sheila Humphreys, Manchán’s vision and understanding were not limited to Ireland or the Irish language, but to what we share and are connected to with all forms of life that live within native and indigenous cultures, languages and communities across the globe.
His endless sense of interest, joy and wonder was a pleasure to be around and his interest and support for my presidency was something I sincerely valued. I will fondly remember all of our collaborations and all of our deeply enjoyable conversations. He will be deeply missed.
Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, Naoise Ó Cairealláin and JJ Ó Dochartaigh
Kneecap
B’ambasadóir é Manchán dár nglúin féin agus duine a bhí lárnach san athbheochán a tharla ar na mallaibh sa chultúr agus sa Ghaeilge. Sheas sé i lár an aonaigh agus thiocfadh a rá nár chuir sé é féin ansin ach gur chuir an pobal ann é.
Ina bhealach séimh féin, chuir sé i gcuimhne dúinn fán ról atá ag an teanga maidir le tuiscint níos doimhne a fháil ar an cheantar thart orainn agus orainn féin.
Mairfidh a oidhreacht i meon fiosrach spreagúil na nGael agus iontu siúd a théann sa tóir ar shaol níos doimhne agus fíoraithe.
Suaimhneas síoraí ar a anam Gaelach.
(Manchán was an ambassador for our generation and someone who was central to the recent revival in culture and the Irish language. He stood in the middle of the fair and could say that he did not put himself there but that the people put him there.
In his own calm way, he reminded us of the role of language in gaining a deeper understanding of the area around us and ourselves.
His legacy will live on in the inquisitive and inspiring mindset of the Irish and in those who seek a deeper and more fulfilled life.
Eternal peace to his Irish soul.)
Brendan O’Connor
Journalist and presenter
Coincidentally, or maybe not, for a man who minded endangered things, Manchán was a member of an endangered species himself: the great Irish maverick. And not cranky for show or for the sake of it. No performative male. He was who he was. And how wise and lucky he was, to accept who he was early on, inhabit himself fully, and follow his own path. He spoke his truth to the end, the perfect example of why we need what he called “neurospicy” people like him. The tribe is a bit blander without him. In a world full of bullsh*t, he’s a lesson to us all of a life well lived.
Theo Dorgan
Poet
Manchán was many things – joyous, gifted, deeply imaginative and, perhaps above all, a magical inspiration. More and more now, on buses, on the Dart, on the streets, I hear Irish spoken by the rising generation – effortlessly, unselfconsciously and I give credit for that to Manchán. Through his life’s work he brought Gaeilge into the present moment, free of inherited baggage, lustrous, capable, rich with its own power to adapt to and illuminate the ecology of our day to day lives.
Táim cinnte go bhfuil sé cheana féin ag spaisteoireacht thart i bhfairsinge phárthais, croíúil, geanúil, fós bríomhar fiosrach. (I’m sure he’s already strolling around the expanse of paradise, warm-hearted, affectionate, yet vibrantly curious.)
Kathy Scott
Founder of The Trailblazery & Scoil Scairte
His name translates as “the little monk”, and he certainly came here with a mission. Manchán arrived in this life like a comet, ablaze with purpose and utterly devoted to his dán, his soul gift. He was a cultural laoch or warrior and lit up so many pathways between language, land, spirit and imagination. He came to remind us of the magic hidden in plain sight and the wild beauty alive in our mother tongue, ár máthairtheanga.
Manchán’s legacy is vast and immeasurable. One of his favourite sayings was “chuirfeadh sé smóilíní ag sclimpireacht i do chroí” – it would set the baby thrushes dancing in your heart and that describes his wild contagious energy.
Manchán honoured his ancestors. He carried us from the holy wells and sacred sites of Ireland to Himalayan peaks and the Arctic. He found parallels from Ireland to India to Iceland yet he always came back to Muiríoch, west Kerry, where his roots and his grandmother’s house anchored him. Manchán carried their fiery passion into our times.
But beyond all the public-facing things, Manchán was my friend. He was my fellow dreamer and spiritual seeker. He has left us a trail of luminous breadcrumbs, guiding us towards our own dán, calling us to become better ancestors-in-training. Manchán is our ancestor now and I know he will be guiding us forward at this precious time on our planet.
Luke McManus
Film-maker
Manchán was a rare one. He managed to embody his values without ever being pious or self-important. Any hint of self-regard would soon be shattered by a joke at his own expense. He was brilliant company, standing at the hub of a network of interesting people who basked in his good energies.
I went a few places with him – strolling in forests, over hills and through swamps, him in lengthy, lanky strides, me and the crew scampering to keep up. And everywhere we went he was warmly welcomed. The midlands was his ultimate homeplace. He adored their lack of glamour. There’s a photo of the two of us filming; my T-shirt reads “Unrealistic Plans”. Manchán had a lot of unrealistic plans as well. But unlike most of us, he made many of them happen
Carmel Winters
Film-maker and playwright
My friendship with Manchán grew roots through lockdown, at a time when I was at the coalface of loss, and, like himself, deep diving into nature for ways of being, ways of seeing. We sat in my local graveyard in Church Cross, Skibbereen, looking at the sea, and shyly exchanged our findings about life after death – we had more questions than answers. On his deathbed – ‘twas he called it that to let us know this was our last meeting on this side of things – he asked how I was fixed for continuing our connection after his death. I laughed and said, “Sure, weren’t we preparing for that all along?” I lay down then in a bed opposite him and his newly wedded Aisling and was witness to their promises to love through death and beyond. What a parting gift. Maith thú, Manchán, imithe ar Shlí na Fírinne – gone on the way of truth, and blazing a trail for us all to see by.
Seán Ronayne
Ornithologist and author
I didn’t expect it so soon and I never got a chance to say goodbye. I just wanted to tell him how much he inspired me. For my film Birdsong, he sent me a voice note, and I couldn’t believe he had messaged me: nobody knew me at that stage. He was incredible: a magical person, forthcoming and open. I had always wanted to do a speaking tour and I had no idea how to do it. I approached Manchán and he told me exactly how to do it. He left me 10-minute voice mails telling me exactly how, even down to the invoicing. The foundation was laid by Manchán for the tour I’m on now.
There’s one bird in particular that reminds me of Manchán: the snipe. The Irish word for snipe – gabhairín deorach – translates to “wandering little goat”. He was definitely a wanderer.
Conor Goodman
Deputy Editor of The Irish Times
Manchán was a person of extraordinary vision, talent and sensitivity. As a traveller, writer, broadcaster, naturalist and advocate for the Irish language, he made profound contributions to Irish life.
His 2020 book Thirty-Two Words for Field was not only beautifully executed, but to Manchán’s surprise and great pleasure it found a loyal audience among readers in their teens and 20s. This and other recent works by Manchán are significant factors in a revived interest in Irish language and culture in recent years.
He was also true to his principles, building his own sustainable home and forsaking air travel several years ago – sacrificing both the income and the appealing lifestyle of a travel writer.
We often use the term “force of nature” to denote a very assertive person, but Manchán was a force of nature in a better sense: gentle, yet powerful, inspiring and humbling.
Ní bheidh a leithéid ann arís.
Mick Heaney
Irish Times radio columnist
For a man who described himself as a dreamer, Manchán Magan possessed an enviable amount of talents, both imaginative and practical: as well as being a broadcaster, author, columnist and Irish-language advocate, he built his own environmentally sustainable house, maintaining an entire ecosystem around his Co Westmeath home. But perhaps his greatest gift, in his public persona at least, was as a communicator.
Manchán brought an infectious sense of enthusiasm that effortlessly took others on his journey to ostensibly esoteric destinations. In his hands, travelogues and lexicons were transformed into accessible voyages to wonder and discovery, while his adventurous personality was informed by a generously spiritual sensibility that could win over the most sceptical observer.
