A sordid tale

“It doesn’t matter when Ní Chianáin realised there was more to Ó Searcaigh than charity work”

Speaker’s Corner
Áine Ryan

‘FAIRYTALE of Kathmandu’. What a magical title for a documentary. What an idyll it conjures. Oh, but what a sordid tale it tells. Imagine if the programme had been ‘Fairytale of Louisburgh’ or ‘Fairytale of Killala’.
Three years ago Irish language poet, Cathal Ó Searcaigh was writer-in-residence in Erris for the Mayo County Council-sponsored Force 12 Writers’ Festival. We can safely assume that during his many visits to schools to facilitate poetry workshops, he never invited any of the young boys back to his hotel room for extra tuition. No. It seems Ó Searcaigh kept his delusional sexual indulgences for exotic lands far from the glare of his peers, far from the prying lens and pen of the media.
Of course, that all changed when his neighbour and admirer, Neasa Ní Chianáin followed him to the foothills of the Himalayas. Naively, he gave her carte blanche to film his every move – well, almost.
Last Saturday I was at a dinner party in a friend’s house.  We all agreed Ó Searcaigh was ethically wrong. He had exploited these young boys. Despite the convenient fact they had reached the legal age of consent in Nepal – 16. We strongly disagreed as to whether his poetry should be taken off the Leaving Cert course.
We also expressed varying opinions about Neasa Ní Chianáin’s culpability and complicity in further perpetrating the injustice against these young people – all vulnerable and impoverished boys. Had they been made fully aware of why they were being filmed? Why weren’t their identities, at least, protected by the filmmaker?
 “Don’t shoot the messenger,” argued our hostess, Kathleen. I agreed. Categorically. It doesn’t matter when precisely Ní Chianáin realised there was more to Ó Searcaigh’s odysseys than straightforward charity work. It doesn’t matter even if she had suspicions at the outset. (The Sunday Tribune reported at the weekend that the gardaí were in contact with Interpol since 2006 over the poet’s lifestyle in Nepal.) It doesn’t matter that she may have edited the documentary to emphasise the vulnerability of these boys.
After all, ‘Fairytale of Kathmandu’ is a classic morality tale. The story is a simple one: the exploitation of the poor by the rich. In this case it’s a relatively wealthy, gay Irish man who has duped himself into the belief that he is doing good for these boys and their families.  
Two hundred and fifty three thousand viewers tuned into the beautifully-filmed exposé. Its opening scenes follow the acclaimed Irish language poet across the undulating Donegal hills close to his home at Gortahork.
Wearing his trademark pillbox beret, the 52-year-old exudes a boyishness, which, in the light of the story, about to be told, is further encapsulated by a needlepoint motto filmed in his sitting room. It reads “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.”
But, at whose expense?
The camera then follows the poet to Nepal, where he spends extended sojourns in Kathmandu’s Hotel Buddha each year. When not writing poetry, Ó Searcaigh is constantly surrounded by young boys. Buying them ice cream. Buying them clothes.  Inviting them to his room.
In the aftermath of the film’s broadcast, commentator, Quentin Fottrell said the film was fair to Ó Searcaigh. It made clear there was nothing illegal in what he did but the offer of financial help, combined with the offer of sex, amounted to ‘an exploitative relationship’.
Ó Searcaigh admitted himself these boys were innocents, observed Fottrell. So had they not a right to their own rite of passage, he asked.
At the end of the film, the producer asks Ó Searcaigh why he invited a certain boy back to his room to spend the night under the guise of helping with his homework. Ó Searcaigh bristled and blushed. “Why not,” he replied arrogantly.
Clearly this fairytale of Kathmandu has become a nightmare.