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Scottish Gaelic - The Language Of The Land

Kristie De Garis

• 2 min read
A black and white photograph of a town set within lots of trees from a distance. You can see church spires and houses.
A photograph of the town of Crieff said to be named for 'Craobh' (pronounced 'kroov') meaning tree in Scottish Gaelic. Interestingly Perthshire, the county in which Crieff sits, is now called 'Big Tree Country'. There were even more trees back then.

Scottish place names are full of ghosts. They describe churches that are no longer there, forests long felled, rivers that have dried up or changed course. Gaelic carries the memory of people, land, and place. It’s one of the reasons I’ve spent the last two years learning it.

The unit I’m working on is about the Scottish Highlands, which means learning a lot of Gaelic place names. If you’ve ever been to Scotland, you may have noticed that road signs often include both the English and Gaelic names for destinations.

Gaelic came to Scotland from Ireland in the 5th century. By the 13th century, it was the language of the court, spoken across the country. Then, in 1616, the Crown outlawed it. After the Jacobite rebellion, the suppression intensified. Even just 100 years ago, children were beaten in school for speaking Gaelic.

A 2020 study found that just 11,000 people in Scotland still speak Gaelic habitually.

I was drawn to Scottish Gaelic because knowing the native language of my country makes me feel more connected to it. It has also deepened my understanding of land and place—Gaelic names often describe the landscape itself. Even in English, many Scottish place names still carry Gaelic roots through their prefixes.

Gaelic roots hidden in Scottish place names:

  • Auch‑ (achadh) → field
  • Auchter‑ (uachdar) → top/upper (also means cream—makes sense!)
  • Bal‑ (baile) → town
  • Dun‑ (dùn) → fort/castle (also used for west coast brochs)
  • Inver‑ (inbhir) → river mouth/confluence
  • Kin‑ (ceann) → head
  • Kil‑ (cill or coille) → church or forest
  • Ben‑ (beinn) → mountain

Often, place names describe something that’s no longer there—a town, a field, a dun—connecting us directly to the past.

The Gaelic language carries cultural nuances and expressions that go beyond simple translation, reflecting a unique way of seeing and understanding the world.

‘Cianalas’ is a Scottish Gaelic word that perfectly captures how I feel within certain landscapes. It conveys a deep, almost aching sense of belonging to the place where your roots lie, along with a profound awareness of what truly matters. Though I resonate with it, its meaning is specifically tied to the Outer Hebrides, and although it shares similarities with the Welsh hiraeth, cianalas remains distinctly its own.

This connection between language, land, and identity isn’t unique to cianalas—it runs through the history of Gaelic. From its oral traditions of storytelling and music to its traditional dress, craftsmanship, and art, Gaelic carries a rich and varied cultural legacy that continues to shape Scotland today.

My Gaelic may still be basic, but it’s already changing how I see things around me. The words we use shape our understanding of the world. And when a language disappears, so does a way of thinking, a way of seeing. Maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to it—because once something is gone, it’s hard to get it back.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you being here.

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