Symudais i Gymru yn 1988 efo golwg o rywun yn dychwelyd i’r hen wlad. Gadawodd fy nhad-cu (gair newydd yn ne Cymru!) Llangeinor ger Pen-y-Bont yn ei arddegau, yn trio dianc llysfam oedd o’n casau, ac yn anwybyddu ei frodyr a chwiorydd mewn ffordd sy’n swnio’n stereoteipiedig. Mi aeth o i Lundain am weddill ei oes, ond er gwaetha’r ffaith ‘ma roedd ychydig o Gymreictod yn ei berthnasau yn Ne-Ddwyrain Lloegr. Wnes i fyth gwrdd â fo oherwydd ei farwolaeth cyn i mi gael fy ngeni, ond ro’n i’n wastad yn ymwybodol am ble daeth o’n wreiddiol. Un o’r arwyddion oedd hen llyfr yn y tŷ i ddysgu Cymraeg. Dw i’n cofio’r cyfarwyddyd gan yr awdur am y bwysicrwydd i ddysgu “i ddod Cymro go iawn, yn lle Saes rhyfedd” – dim byd dadleuol yno dw i’n siŵr! Felly pan des i i Gymru yn ddeg oed, mi ges i gysylltiad fach i’r lle newydd, heb sioc o ddysgu rhywbeth newydd sbon i mi efo’r iaith.
Roedd llawer o bethau eraill i greu trafferth cyn bo hir. Nid fod y bachgen newydd yn yr ysgol yn hawdd, doedd y busnes newydd fy nheulu ddim yn llwyddiannus, a ro’n i’n cadw dicter am fy mywyd newydd am sbel. Ond ar yr un pryd, roedd fy Nghymraeg yn blodeuo. Mi ges i ddiddordeb yn yr iaith o’r cychwyniad, ac i ddweud y gwir do’n i ddim siŵr bod plant eraill oedd yn rhannu fy mrwdfrydedd. Ro’n i’n gapten o’r tîm mewn cystadleuaeth Cymraeg i ysgolion, ac ar yr un pryd ro’n i’n llwyddiannus yn Eisteddfod yr ysgol yn ystod cystadleuaeth barddoniaeth – paid â gofyn am ganu, ches i ddim greddf Gymreig yno. Derbyniodd rhywun arall o Loegr sylw “gwaith da…am Sais” wrth adael y llwyfan ond pan es i i fyny clywais i “gwrandewch…mae o wedi bod yma am chwe mis!”. Ro’n i’n mor hapus i ddarganfod S4C; dw i’n rhan o’r genhedlaeth Sgorio wrth gwrs, a do’n i ddim yn siŵr am yr iaith fel peth fyw tan i mi ddod o hyd yr iaith yno – yn enwedig ar ôl i mi weld fy ngêm rygbi cyntaf erioed i weld y cyflwynydd Arthur Emyr ar yr asgell!
Cyn bo hir daeth newid eto. Roedd fy rhieni yn awyddus am y syniad o blentyn eu hunain yn mynd i’r ysgol breifat. Pasiodd arholiad i fynd heb ofyn cwestiynau, felly roedd angen teithio i Gaer bob dydd am saith mlynedd, a dyna oedd y diwedd o Gymraeg. Dw i ddim yn gallu dweud bod poenodd i am beidio dysgu’r iaith, a dw i’n poeni mwy am bethau eraill am fynd yno rŵan, ond pan roedd hi’n amlwg collais i fy Nghymraeg teimlais i dristwch am y peth. Ond do’n i fyth yn meddwl am ail-ddechrau. Do’n i fyth yn ystyried Cymraeg fel rhywbeth dibwrpas neu ddiwerth chwaith, ond welais i ddim unrhyw beth werthfawr i mi am yr iaith yn Wrecsam. Hyd yn oed ar ôl i mi ddarganfod gwersi newydd am sut mae Cymru’n wahanol i Loegr wrth wylio gemau CPD Wrecsam am y tro cyntaf, teimlais i fel doedd dim angen i weithredu â’r gymuned ar y lefel heriol ‘na. Wnes i ddim gwrthod yr iaith, ond dw i ddim siŵr ystyriais Gymraeg o gwbl.
Flynyddoedd yn ddiweddar, mi ddaeth fy mab â gwaith cartref Cymraeg am y tro cyntaf ar wefan Pori Drwy Stori. Ro’n ni’n canu caneuon Cymraeg gyda’n gilydd, roedd o’n caru’r dasg a ro’n i’n synnu am fwynhau gwneud y dasg efo fo. Ar yr un pryd, sylwais i gwrs mynediad yn fy ngwaith. Dihunodd rhywbeth ar y pryd, dw i ddim siŵr o ble daeth o, ond teimlais i fel roedd rhaid i mi drio, a dw i wedi astudio ers hynny. Dw i ddim yn gallu gor-ddweud am sut mae Cymraeg wedi dylanwadu fy mywyd mewn ffyrdd positif. Yn gyntaf, does dim byd negyddol am ddysgu pethau newydd. Hefyd, dw i’n synnu i ddarganfod y wefr yn cyfathrebu mewn iaith wahanol. Dw i’n teimlo cysylltiad gwahanol efo diwylliant Cymru na’r gorffennol, hyd yn oed heb ruglder yn yr iaith. Mae gen i ddiddordeb mawr yn bêl-droed wrth gwrs, a’r sin cerddoriaeth, ac wedi herio fy hun yn ddiweddar efo llyfrau Cymraeg, ond mae gymaint ar gael heb lawer o bobl ddi-Gymraeg yn sylweddoli’r peth. Pan ddych chi’n siarad â’r siaradwr iaith gyntaf mae’n bosib sylweddoli’r gwahaniaeth yn eu geirdaon a’r pethau eu bod nhw’n gwybod yn wahanol i chi.
Mae’r gwaith yn anodd yn aml, ond mae’n wefreiddiol i gael sgwrs mewn iaith wahanol yn llwyddiannus. Mae’r gwaith yn heriol a dw i ddim yn gallu gwadu’r gweithiau ble mae’r profiad yn ddychrynllyd wrth gwrs. Yn ystod fy ngwers gyntaf ar lefel sylfaen roedd hi’n annisgwyl i ddod o hyd neb arall yno heb fy nhiwtor a fi, a ro’n i’n agos i redeg allan o’r ystafell! Ro’n i’n rhan o seremoni Dysgwr y Flwyddyn yn y gwaith, gan gynnwys y gynulleidfa’n gwylio fideo yn cyflwyno fy hun yn siarad Cymraeg. Doedd dim byd yn dda am wylio eich hunain ar y sgrin a chlywed eich llais eu hunain, yn enwedig wrth ymddangos yn goch ac yn nerfus ar yr un pryd. Hefyd, dw i wedi siarad Cymraeg o’r llwyfan Eisteddfod yr Urdd (o flaen y Gweinidog Iechyd!), ar ôl fy ngwaith oedd yn argyhoeddi fi i fynychu. Dw i ddim yn gallu dychmygu gwneud pethau fel hyn yn Saesneg – dw i ddim person hyderus neu gymdeithasol yn naturiol, felly roedd angen i mi weithio ar fy sgiliau fel person, nad dim ond Cymraeg. Dw i’n wastad yn dweud fy mod i’n dysgu mwy na’r iaith, ac mae hynny’n wir.
Dyn ni i gyd yn gweld Cymreictod yn fwy hyderus a chroch yn datblygu, a rhaid i’r iaith fod rhan o hyn. Tasech chi’n astudio hanes Cymru basech chi’n gwybod bod pobl sy’n disgrifio eich hunain fel amddiffynwyr Cymru, ond nad yr iaith, yn gorfod meddwl eto. Dyn ni wedi clywed beth mae’r beirniaid yn dweud, ond dydy eu dadleuon ddim yn ddigon cryf, yn enwedig achos maen nhw’n gwrth-ddweud ei gilydd. Rhai pobl yn dweud bod does neb yn siarad yr iaith, ond ar yr un pryd, mae digon yn siarad i gau allan pobl ddi-Gymraeg. Rhai pobl yn disgrifio’r iaith fel rhywbeth diwerth, ond ar yr un pryd mae’n amhosib cael swydd dda hebddo fo. Un iaith yn amhosib deall, ond ar yr un pryd yn llawn o eiriau Saesneg. Rhai pobl eraill yn dweud bod siaradwyr yn gorfodi’r iaith ar bobl ddi-Gymraeg, ond nad yn ddigon i orfodi pobl newydd i siarad dim ond un gair. Gobeithio mae’r ddadl am y gwerth a’r presenoldeb o’r iaith wedi dod i ben, felly mae’r golwg o Gymraeg fel mursendod, wastraff o adnoddau neu fersiwn o’r hen dei ysgol yn diflannu. Mae’n fwy na gwrthod sgil dieisiau i wrthod yr iaith, ond am wrthod rheswm hanfodol pam mae Cymru’n bodoli o gwbl. Fel ffan o’r Manics, dw i’n cofio Nicky Wire yn disgrifio Cymry fel “non-confident wet bastards”. Dw i’n teimlo fel nad ydy’r addas rŵan, a dw i’n siŵr mae’r mwyafrif yn derbyn Cymraeg wedi chwarae rhan bwysig yma.
Mae Wrecsam yn ymddangos fel dinas ryfedd i ddysgu ond dylen nhw ail-feddwl. Mae 16,000 o siaradwyr rhugl yn Wrecsam, digon i fod yn fwy na’r boblogaeth o’r rhan fwyaf o drefydd yng Ngogledd Cymru. Mae’r rhif yn cynyddu i 28,000 tasech chi’n rhifo’r bobl efo wybodaeth o Gymraeg. Mae galwad newydd am addysg Cymraeg yn Wrecsam yn gallu helpu, ond mae’n dal yn bosib ymddwyn fel does dim Cymraeg yn Wrecsam. Mae rhai pobl yn cwyno am gyhoeddiadau Cymraeg yn y Cae Ras, ond yn ogystal â chwyno am rywbeth diddrwg, mae’r cyhoeddiadau’n ateb y diben i fwy o bobl na’r beirniaid yn sylweddoli. Dw i ddim siŵr sut i annog y 28,000 i gydnabod ei gilydd, ond bydd unrhyw beth i wneud hynny yn gallu newid y sefyllfa yn Wrecsam. Dw i’n teimlo fel hyn yn realistig, ond rhaid i mi gyfaddef am fod heb syniadau i newid pethau.
Fel rhan o ddysgu’r iaith dw i wedi dysgu am raniadau yn y gymdeithas oherwydd yr iaith. Ond dw i’n teimlo fel mae’r rhaniadau’n diflannu. Mae pawb yn dysgu’r iaith yn yr ysgol, mae pobl yn cwyno am bresenoldeb yr iaith yn y gymdeithas yn ymddangos fel rhywbeth o’r gorffennol, ac mae’r iaith wedi bod rhan o’r gymdeithas Saesneg. Mae bands Cymraeg a Saesneg yn rhannu llwyfannau, sefydliadau fel y FAW yn annog Cymraeg yn eu cyhoeddiadau, ac mae’r sefyllfa’n teimlo’n positif. Weithiau dyn ni’n clywed newyddion gwael; mae agweddau yn bositif ond dydy’r nifer o siaradwyr rhugl ddim yn cynyddu. Mae’n dal yn anodd byw eich bywydau yn Gymraeg yn llawn amser. Mae Llywodraeth Cymru yn anelu am filiwn o siaradwyr erbyn 2050; mae’n ymddangos fel targed uchelgeisiol ac mae llawer o waith i wneud i gyrraedd y niferoedd ‘na. Ond gobeithio dyn ni’n gallu gwneud pethau achos mae agweddau wedi newid – does neb yn derbyn cellweiriau am yr iaith bellach (mae’n siomedig i weld rhai o’r cellweiriau’n dod o’r chwith). Mae’r iaith wedi newid fy mywyd, hoffwn i weld mwy o bobl yn ymuno â fi. Cenedl heb iaith, cenedl heb galon.
I initially wrote about learning Welsh for Shag fanzine back in 2020 and the meat of this writing comes from that, although I have made some changes (some content, some to reflect my more basic Cymraeg!). The English original is below.
I’m an immigrant to Wales with an “old country” and “new country” view at the same time. My grandfather left the Rhondda (EDIT – after this hit print I found that it’s Ogmore, although I’ll hide behind the Rhondda Cynon Taf clause) as a teenager, storming off out of the house to escape a stepmother he hated and ignoring the plaintive cries of his younger siblings, in a way that sounds stereotypical. He left for London never to return, but despite this, there was always a bit of Wales in his relatives that lived in the South East of England. I never met my grandfather, who died when my mother was pregnant with me, but I was always aware of where he came from. As an aside, a junior schoolteacher once called in my parents after my class had to write on the topic ofour biggest regret – a heavy subject for an eight year old. I wrote that I regretted never meeting my grandfather, and my parents were cross-examined to see that I wasn’t disproportionately tortured by this. It seems a reasonable thing to have written but presumably, most others wrote about not getting a Transformer for Christmas.
One of the legacies of Welshness around the house was a battered Teach Yourself Welsh book. This memorably told its user that once you mastered the language you were “at last a proper Welshman and not a funny kind of Englishman” – nothing contentious there, I’m sure. This meant that I wasn’t totally shocked when the family moved to Wales, and learning the language at junior school was on my plate. There was generally a lot to grapple with; being the new kid in school is never easy, the business the family set up soon died on its arse, and I harboured a bit of resentment at this new life for a fair few years. However, while this happened I took to the Welsh language as you wouldn’t believe. I was fascinated from the off, and if I may be so bold as to say so, this fascination didn’t seem that common amongst the children who had always learned it. I became first pick in an inter-school Welsh quiz and impressed in the poetry recital in the school Eisteddfod. While another incomer got the backhanded compliment of “nice try for an English girl” on her way off the stage, my entrance to the stage earned “watch this! He’s been here six months”. You should have seen my face when I stumbled across S4C; I clearly didn’t quite grasp the living, breathing thing Welsh was and is until I found it.
Then came change again. My parents saw a private education as something which to aspire. I passed an exam to get a funded place, it was off to Chester and back for seven years, and this was the end of learning Welsh. I won’t say I agonisedover not learning Welsh at first – certainly not as much as I agonised over other issues of being there – but when it became obvious I’d forgotten the Welsh I knew I felt like I’d lost something. However, I didn’t really think about starting again; I was never someone who bought the lie of the language as useless or exclusionary but once out of the habit I never considered that it could give me something I needed in mostly English speaking Wrexham. Even as I got into the habit of going to Wrexham FC games, and the crash course in how Wales is not England that goes with that, this seemed like enough community engagement without having to commit to something more challenging.
Fast forward to many years later and my son brought home worksheets to sing Welsh songs from his first year in school. He loved doing it and I felt inspired by how much I enjoyed doing it with him. An opportunity to take a beginners course came up through work at the same time and I’ve been learning ever since. I cannot overstate what a positive influence it has been on my life. Firstly, there is nothing negative about gaining knowledge. In addition, to converse with someone in another language is a surprising buzz. It can be hard work and occasionally terrifying – taking part in an unexpected one to one lesson with my tutor for the first time almost led to me running out of the room – but it really does feel amazing to manage this with any kind of success. On top of this I feel an engagement with Welsh culture that I never had before, even without being fluent in the language; the music scene is my particular interest but there’s so much else out there and it’s right in front of our noses without people necessarily realising it. When you talk to a first language Welsh speaker you realise just how many different things they know that you do not, and how different their references can be.
We are currently seeing a more confident and strident Welshness coming to the fore and the Welsh language has to be at its heart. Any cursory study of Welsh history shows that people who call themselves passionate defenders of the nation but not the language probably ought to think again. We haveall heard what detractors of the language have to say, but you would like to think that those arguments hold no weight, especially as most of the criticisms contradict each other. It can be painted as a language hardly anyone speaks, but apparently spoken enough to exclude you once fluent speakersrealise you don’t speak it. A language described as having no practical worth, but you apparently can’t get a decent public sector job without it. A language called impenetrable, yet also described as over loaded with English words. A language that some claim is forced down your throat, but seemingly not so much that it presents a bar to incomers, of which I am one, living their normal lives without speaking a word of it. The argument about the value and true presence of the language ought to be over, and you can only hope that the view of the language as an affectation, a waste of resources or a version of the old school tie becomes a distant memory.
A town like Wrexham might seem like a strange place to learnbut even there we should probably think again. In Wrexham (as a county) there are 16,000 Welsh speakers – enough to dwarf the total population of most of the towns in North Wales. That number increases to 28,000 people who havesome knowledge of the language. The increased demand for Welsh language education can only help this, but it is still very easy to act as if there is no presence of the language in Wrexham. You may have heard the odd gripe about bi-lingual announcements at the Racecourse, but as well as this beingirrational towards something that can’t possibly do any harm, this fails to acknowledge how these announcements areserving a more significant part of our community than many realise. I’m not sure how these 28,000 people get to recognise each other but anything that can do this could be a game changer. To speak and hear more Welsh around Wrexham isn’t just aspirational, it’s realistic. We need to encourage our businesses and services to get their Welsh speakers known, and an even more visible presence is possible.
England being a country where learning languages isn’t exactly a priority is a disappointment, and you can probably frame a number of disturbing political developments alongside this attitude. That it has taken quite a lot of force to bring Welsh back to the fore in many parts of Wales doesn’t just mirror this but also says a number of things about how we (I presume I can say we these days) look at ourselves. To reject the language totally isn’t just about rejecting an unwanted skill, but rejecting an essential part of why Wales exists at all. Nicky Wire once described the Welsh as “non-confident, wet bastards” but if that is changing – and I think it’s fair to say that it is – it’s no wonder that it’s changing while those who speak Welsh are not prepared to accept the jokes and falsehoods that fly around about it anymore; disappointingly this is prevalent from otherwise left leaning sources. In addition, those who don’t speak it are showing it more respect and deciding that maybe they can get on board. There can be no looking back, however tricky those mutations are. Ymunwch a ni – cenedl heb iaith, cenedl heb galon.
Taith Pêl-Droed 