The Shame of Ireland

The Shame of Ireland

Kathleen O'Malley. "Childhood Interrupted".

Since publishing my Book five years ago I have had enormous pleasure in giving Talks on my Memoir. I do not have an acting Agent, but by self promoting my book on the Injustice in Ireland on Irish Children by the Religious and Government.

I have talked to the W.I., Townswomen Groups, victim Support Groups, The League of Jewish Women, Book Clubs and my most emotional talk yet was when I was invited to Talk to the SURVIVORS OF THE HOLOCOUST IN NORTH LONDON. THERE WAS SUCH EMPATHY FROM THOSE LOVELY PEOPLE WHO AS WE ALL KNOW HAVE EQUALLY SUFFERED THROUGHOUT THE AGES.

I have three bookings for February and 6 in the Spring. This is a job I definitely enjoy. I have never come across any unkindness or opposition after my Talks. People do listen when they have an open mind. Something the Catholic Church, Religious Orders

and Goverrnment fail to have.

Kathleen O'Malley.

Views: 517

Comment by Andrew Brennan on December 21, 2010 at 16:30

That's true Kathleen - people want to know. That tells me people want to prevent these obscenities ever happening again.


I was asked to give a 5 minute presentation a few months ago - on any subject - and I chose the abusive institutions/Ryan Report and the presentation, which was supposed to be just 5 minutes presenting and a 10 minute discussion, turned into a 2 hour discussion.  The audience (about 50 people) were very kind and sympathetic.   At last we're being listened to.

Comment by Kathleen O'Malley. on December 21, 2010 at 18:23


Lets hope awareness will prevent future atrocities.  Children throughout the world are entitled to a happy childhood.   There is nothing more beautiful than children laughing.  YER THOSE MONSTERS DEPRIVED US AND THEMSELVES OF SUCH JOY.   

I have just had an invitation to give a talk in a Synagogue next year March.  People do want to know, yet I find many are shocked  that this abuse actually happened in our life time.   That the perpatrators were the Irish Catholic Religious Orders.  I was not sexually abused by the Nuns, however I expose the HORRORS that the Christian Brothers got up to.  My satisfaction is being told they knew nothing about this.  I have been unable to go on Marches, but in my  way I am doing my bit as we all are.

Happy Yuletide and a Healthy New Year to all.

Kathleen O'Malley.  "Childhood Interrupted"

Comment by Andrew Brennan on December 22, 2010 at 11:49

Hi Kathleen,


Many of the apologists like to spit out the lines that the abuses were historical and that all of it happened a long long time ago and at the same time avoiding the fact that the cover-up of such abuses is very much in the present. They ignore the fact also that the abuses in the Institutions are part of the living memory - and that the effects of abuse are lifetime effects!   

They like to say that the media is over-reporting stories of abuse by clergy and stories of the continuing cover-up and facilitation of the abuses - yet they never ever make any remarks about the under reporting and non-reporting of the abuses by clergy.


Best Wishes to you Kathleen for Christmas and the New Year



Comment by Kathleen O'Malley. on December 22, 2010 at 16:12



Thank you for that it is lovely.

Yes indeed we are living memory of the abuse.  This week I had a lovely surprise my nephue who lives in U.S.A. AND I HAVE NOT HAD CONTACT WITH FOR OVER 30  years.  His Mum my sister has  had a rotten life.  so the pain is living memory.  Families have been so damaged.  Sadly we will never get that time back.  WE HAVE A COMMON INTEREST.   SO THE BEST WE CAN DO IS UNITE AND BEAT THE ''''''''''''''''''''''''''...........

Happy New Year.

Kathleen O'Malley.  "Childhood Interrupted"

Comment by terence ellard on February 10, 2015 at 14:45

More power to your elbow-Kathleen!(But could you make your next book-'No  childhood'?


See the following-and please excuse typos-writing aint my thing!


God bless-Terence.


This was written to my half sister-whom I have never seen-along with anyone else from my 'family'(The nuns at blackrock refused to let my mother have me--something that destroyed both our lives.  Sick twisted women!)


My sister has rejected me also-via an email.




THE ORPHANAGE. [+ the possible reason(s) for my admittance to same].

Just before I was committed to the orphanage(of which I have no memory re the time of committal)-and whilst in foster care-I was knocked down and run over by a car,which broke both of my  legs.(I must have been about 4 years of age at the time). I do remember being in hospital for ages with my legs in plaster and up on a heist--with a nurse feeding me with a spoon from a bowl. Its contents  seemed to be a composite of eggs and bread-slightly 'wetted 'with either milk of water. I also remember having serious hallucinations--e.g.of little soldiers in red uniforms,carrying drums and hoisting flags and /doing drills etc--which were as real to me as if they were facts in reality.*The other reason ,I believe that I was taken from these early foster parents and placed in the orphanage was because  a few months previously,  I had been dragged-so I was later told- half-drowned from a  small lake at the bottom of boghall road. I [do] remember going into this lake--but of not coming out of it.

The memories I have of the orphanage are grim ones indeed-especially the early years  We were always hungry-for food was scarce-and the food that we did have,often -consisted only of porridge but chiefly * raw bread(i.e. almost inedible soggy bread with black slices of something running through it).For drinks we had horrible watery/milkless black cocoa in  dull metal mugs-and soup which was equally horrid-with even more of this ghastly bread. Sometimes the older boys would rob the younger ones-even of these[Such was their hunger]. We ate these meals at a long refactory table-which could have sufficed as a   replacement  prop for  the movie 'Oliver Twist'. We had to be deloused each week[for our hair was{ crawling} with white lice]-and we  had to queue- up for spoonfuls of ghastly petroleum-coloured cod liver oil on the same time scale. Many of the children had open boils/sores on their faces which bled profusely-though I seemed,thankfully, to have been spared this ghastly fate.[By contrast, the nuns I observed had plenty of good food-because we could see great blocks of cheese,and other wholesome foods lined up'a plenty' in a pantry and  which we were warned never to enter!].Occasionaly,a  civilian member of the orphanage staff-a pleasant,sympathetic lady-would give to some of the' lucky ones 'a morsel of cheese or a slice of wholesome bread or  tomato from the pantry-where she seemed to work most of the time.[But we were told by this kind lady 'dont ever tell the nuns'!].

  *I had terrible hallucinations at this time. That is,of bombs raining down from the sky, of a visit one evening  from a one eyed-angel who bit me in the chest-of golden hearses coming out of the walls at 11 am in the mornring-of a monkey who came into the dormitory each night for a period of three weeks -and who attacked and 'bloodied 'one of the other boys.Of a mysterious 'ghost'-dressed all in white who appeared in the hallway outside the dormitory at night-and then vanished through its thick yellow-painted walls. Some of the other boys also seemed to share some  of these  experiences-for I most certainly remember a few of them pointing to this hallucinatory' monkey' and holding conversations with 'him'and screaming when they thought he had viciously hit them over the head with a small shovel he carried.

  These were,once again,as real as reality itself to me-but of course had no substance in the [material] visible world.

 *It is my full belief that these were [diet-enviornment] * related- a [possible] form of 'ergot'**-which as you may know,is presumed to lie behind the mystery of *'The Marie Celeste'-for  they have never again happened to me in these last 61 years. I also see this early malnutrition to be the cause of the immune deficiency which has given rise to my current myalgicencephalomyelitis. * It is also germaine to note the 'clusters'/timing  of these events,the [subject ]matter and the ages[4-9] of the children involved. It would also be desirable  to study the clincial pathology to determine whether indeed such mind aberations was bacteriologically or virally induced (or both).[But this is a whole scientific study in itself!]. *If you have never heard[though highly unlikely!] of this mystery,I will glady fill you in on the details. ** Ergot is the common name of a fungus which grows on certain grains{and grasses}. This parasite can cause hallucinations-and my [provisional]intuitive 'guess' is that it was present in this raw bread.


 In the dormitory in which I slept,most of us cried ourselves to sleep each night for our mothers.( I guess if it was a female orphanage-which it now is-it would be for their dads). It was a tragic and heartbreaking sound to behold.[ It must be remembered here that some few children left-no doubt to go back to a parent or parents/relative(s) and others took their place-so the tears and nightly wailings never ceased]

The dormitory was never heated in the winter to the best of my knowledge-and when I wet the bed[as I often did]-either from the cold or fear,I was made to stand naked by its side for ages as punishment, whilst a big burly'butch' woman in civilian clothes would scream at me.[I dont think she was a nun ,but someone employed by them as a cleaner/general 'dogsbody].  We seemed to make endless trips to church-for mass and' benedictions'-and were told the perils of sin -the great job the virgin mary was doing up in heaven on our behalf,not to mention the pope in rome and the prayers of' father' this and' father' that.[In short,the usual theological oppression and hyperventilating superstitious nonsense which characterized the roman catholic church at the time].

  I had no visitors during all my years there-save a wonderful lady who was a teacher in blackrock and who wanted to adopt me.[I visited her home--and remember it was lovely.  I was delighted to see she had a piano-which I wanted to play]. She took me to the ballet-and I remember being bored by the whole thing!--but I do remember 'stuffing my face with chocolate!!-and messing- it up-along with my shirt!  lol!!]  I felll 'in love' with her-in a child- to -adult way.  She obviously' fell 'in love with me too[for children have their own intuitive way of discerning such things]. Her love and concern beamed out of her eyes- the patience she displayed and the care she gave denoted the possession of a  genuine  maternal character. She promised to visit me a few moths later at easter-when she hoped,she said, she could take me out of the orphanage and adopt me as part of her family.   But the nuns wouldnt let her see me again--for 'she wasnt married'[I later learnt]-though it didnt stop them 'farming- out' another boy to a  single woman--whose brother just happened to be a priest!-and who went by the name of 'Father mangan'.   What blatant hypocrisy!!  This incident broke my heart--and I have never forgotten it throughout my life. I can still see her smiling face-with her  eyes full of compassion,tenderness and love-but most of all, I have felt  the great disappointment and sadness she must have suffered.

  As I have said before,I only left the orphanage on two occasions-for recreation (i.e.One  to see a western movie and  another to visit the local  cadbury's factory}. The other was non-recreational,namely, to get my tonsils out-after first holding me down and gassing me with a mask of some description. [The only way such an operation was possible,apparently at the time]

I hardly ever remember being schooled-though the record shows I was-but all I do know is that when I left this orphage,I couldnt read or write.

The years passed -and one day,I was summoned to the zoo-type wire fence which surrounded a small playing field in which  I and the other boys were playing-in.  I  was introduced through its chicken mesh interlacing  to  a man and a woman who would later become my foster 'parents'. No physical contact ever took place.[Aint that blooming something?!! ]. Why, even [dogs ]get to walk etc[ first] with their prospective owners!!

 A few weeks afterwards , I was informed that I was going to a 'nice lady and gentleman' in Co Kerry-and was duly kitted-out in new clothes for the purpose.

On the morning of my departure,a big black chaffeur-driven  limousine drove up-and after a load of affected smiles-coupled with implored blessings from this 'saint' and that- on  the part of the  nuns- I was driven off[ like little lord fauntleroy(lol!)].- and out of the Iron gates of the orphanage and to supposed  'freedom' and a new life. {This limousine I later learnt  was owned by *Michael scott- who as I said before, was closely  related to my foster 'parents'-on the hurley side.}

However,some five miles or so out-the 'limmo 'stopped and I was transferred to a white ford anglia-driven by the man who was later  to become my God father,namely a Dr Harry Michael,of' Kilronan',Malahide,Co Dublin.  [The reason for all this 'checkpoint charlie' stuff[lol] I was later informed was that because Dr harry was a freemason,he could not enter' the holy ground of the covent' [Yeah--right--fetch me the sick bucket!!].   Dr  Harry drove south to Co kerry for' hours and hours'--and we stopped only twice- once  for lunch.{It was ham on the menu--and because it was a friday I refused to eat it!!--rofl!!]-the other, to do a standing- up' call of nature'{ the lattter which I found quite embarrassing because Dr harry was anything but discreet!!}.  I guess it was because he was a medical man, Dr harry thought little of it-as well as defraying,because of his medical credentials ,some of the natural shyness/reserve that comes with  the mind of a child.

We eventually arrived-and parked outside a house in the southern square of a  village called  'sneem' -and on  whose two-tone pink-black coloured  walls the information was conveyed  that it was a' Bar- Restaurant' as well as being a member of The Irish Touring Cycling Board.[though I couldnt read this- at the time!-just some of its black and gold  lettering].  However-and in view of what later transpired, this information should have been replaced with a  more ostentatious and  approriate description/warning  of its  gothic and perverted inner/personified contents-by the denotation of :'Welcome  to a house called  Hell'[for if you believe in the existence of such a place,this house was most certainly built over one of its main physical,psychological and  spiritual torture  'chambers']

*No wonder our poor mother didnt stand a chance of ever getitng me back--with such a wealthy/influential 'big gun' enjoined in battle  by my foster 'parents'.{Poor darling mother}.

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