Latest news with #StMary's
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First Post
2 days ago
- Health
- First Post
How nearly 800 Irish babies were discarded in a sewage tank
For decades, 796 babies who died at a church-run home in Tuam, Ireland, lay in an unmarked grave — many possibly discarded in a former sewage tank. Now, a landmark forensic excavation aims to identify and bury them with dignity read more A 'No access to public' sign is put up on a barricade near the excavation site of the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of a former Catholic Church-run Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, in Tuam, Ireland, July 7, 2025. File Image/Reuters A full-scale forensic excavation is now underway at a site in Tuam, County Galway in Ireland, where the remains of nearly 800 infants and young children are believed to be buried in an unmarked grave. The dig, which formally commences on Monday, marks a turning point in Ireland's reckoning with the harrowing legacy of its church-run institutions for unmarried mothers and their children. The operation, expected to last two years, is taking place on the grounds where the Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home once stood — a site now overlaid by a housing estate and children's playground. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD A team of forensic archaeologists, anthropologists and crime scene investigators, including international experts from as far as Colombia, Canada, Australia and the US, is tasked with recovering and identifying human remains that date back to when the institution was in operation, between 1925 and 1961. Uncovering Tuam's hidden & horrific history The Tuam Mother and Baby Home — also referred to as St Mary's — was one of many such facilities established to house women who became pregnant outside of marriage, a condition then heavily stigmatised by both Irish society and the Catholic Church. The Bon Secours Sisters, a religious order of Catholic nuns, oversaw the institution, which also included the nearby Grove Hospital under their care. A memorial is put up at the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of a former Catholic Church-run Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, in Tuam, Ireland, July 7, 2025. File Image/Reuters During its 36 years of operation, St Mary's housed thousands of women and children. Death records show that 796 infants and young children died at the institution, ranging in age from newborns to toddlers up to three years old. The first child known to have died at the home was five-month-old Patrick Derrane in 1925, and the last was Mary Carty, also five months old, in 1960. Despite the number of recorded deaths, only two of the children were officially interred in a nearby cemetery. The absence of any formal burial documentation, headstones or memorials for the remaining children raised longstanding questions about where and how they were buried. Historian Catherine Corless watches Taoiseach Micheal Martin speaking during a Government webinar meeting for survivors and supporters of Church-run mother and baby homes where he outlines the first look at the report by the Commission of Investigation into the institutions before it is formally published, in Tuam, Ireland, January 12, 2021. File Image/Reuters The reality began to come into focus in 2014 when local historian Catherine Corless published her findings based on years of research. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD She had grown up in Tuam and remembered the 'home children' being segregated at school. Her initial inquiries into the home's history led her to request death records from the Galway registrar's office. Expecting a short list, she was stunned when she was told there were hundreds of names. 'A fortnight later a sceptical member of staff called to ask if she really wanted them all,' she recalled. The eventual list included 796 names. Seeking answers about their burials, Corless checked cemetery records in Galway and nearby County Mayo, only to find no trace of these children. Her research also included old survey maps of the site. One map from 1929 identified a specific area as a 'sewage tank.' A later map from the 1970s bore a handwritten note calling the same area a 'burial ground.' Senior Forensic Consultant Niamh McCullagh shows a map of the planned excavation of the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of a former Catholic Church-run Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, near the excavation site in Tuam, Ireland, July 7, 2025. File Image/Reuters Her suspicions intensified when she learned from a local cemetery caretaker that two boys playing in the area during the 1970s had lifted a broken concrete slab and found bones underneath. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD The site was quickly covered, and for decades, the matter remained undisturbed. Although some believed the bones might have belonged to victims of the Irish Famine, Corless noted that famine-era dead had been buried with markers in a separate field nearby. This discovery pointed instead to a potential mass grave on the home's former grounds. Irish govt confirms graves in Tuam In 2017, the Irish government commissioned a test excavation at the Tuam site. Forensic investigators unearthed a vault consisting of twenty chambers containing 'significant quantities of human remains.' The remains, confirmed through carbon dating, were from the period when the home was in operation and ranged in age from approximately 35 weeks gestational age to three years old. The investigation was carried out by the Mother and Baby Homes Commission of Investigation under Judge Yvonne Murphy. The Commission expressed shock at the findings and continued its inquiry to determine who was responsible for the handling and disposal of the remains. Anna Corrigan, whose two brothers were born at the former Catholic Church-run Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home and one of them died very young as the records suggest, shows pages from the book titled 'My Name is Bridget: The Untold Story of Bridget Dolan and the Tuam Mother and Baby Home' near the excavation site of the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of the former Catholic Church-run mother and baby home, in Tuam, Ireland, July 7, 2025. File Image/Reuters In 2021, following the release of the Commission's final report, the Irish government issued a formal state apology. Taoiseach Micheál Martin stated: 'We had a completely warped attitude to sexuality and intimacy, and young mothers and their sons and daughters were forced to pay a terrible price for that dysfunction.' The commission's work revealed that roughly 9,000 children had died across 18 mother and baby homes in Ireland. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD The Bon Secours Sisters, who operated the Tuam facility, also offered their apology. 'We did not live up to our Christianity when running the Home,' they acknowledged. Excavation crew work at the site of the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of a former Catholic Church-run Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, in Tuam, Ireland, July 7, 2025. File Image/Reuters They further conceded that the children had been 'buried in a disrespectful and unacceptable way' and offered compensation to affected families. The excavation into the mass grave begins Now, a decade after Corless's research brought global attention to Tuam, heavy machinery and prefabricated units occupy the site as excavation work begins in earnest. The project is led by Daniel MacSweeney, an expert in recovering human remains from complex environments, including conflict zones such as Afghanistan. 'This is a very challenging process — really a world-first,' MacSweeney said. He noted that the remains of the children are likely to be intermixed and extremely fragile. 'They're absolutely tiny,' he explained. 'We need to recover the remains very, very carefully – to maximise the possibility of identification.' He added that the task is complicated by the co-mingled state of the bones, the difficulty in distinguishing male from female remains in children so young, limited archival records, and the uncertain condition of the DNA. The operation, funded by the Irish government at an estimated cost between €6 and €13 million, aims to carry out DNA testing to identify as many of the remains as possible. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD The ultimate goal is to provide dignified burials for the children who were denied one in life. Denise Gormley and her daughter Rosa, 7, pay their respects and blow bubbles at the Tuam graveyard, where the bodies of 796 babies were uncovered at the site of a former Catholic home for unmarried mothers and their children, on the day a government-ordered inquiry into former Church-run homes for unmarried mothers is formally published, in Tuam, Ireland, January 12, 2021. File Image/Reuters While the excavation at Tuam proceeds, some residents have called for further scrutiny of the Grove Hospital, another facility once run by the Bon Secours order. Allegations have emerged that children and siblings may have been buried there from the 1950s through the 1970s. The order denies that any graveyard existed on the premises, but Galway County Council has now mandated that an archaeologist monitor any ground disturbances at the hospital site to preserve possible human remains. The Tuam dig represents more than a recovery of bones — it is a broader confrontation with one of Ireland's most disturbing institutional legacies. For decades, the home operated under a veil of secrecy. The hope now is that each child will finally be named, honoured, and laid to rest with the dignity they were once denied. Also Watch: With inputs from agencies
Metro
2 days ago
- Metro
I found the ‘Goldilocks' of European city breaks — everything's just right
A warm orange sun cushioned by clouds fizzles down before me. As it vanishes, it leaves behind a smudge of hot pink, illuminating the sky. Everything feels calm. Peaceful. The sea gently rocks beneath our yacht. Of course, the pictures I take don't do it one bit of justice. I'm on a mini-cruise, gliding through the Port of Gdansk, that's been timed to catch the sun going down. Sailing down the still waters of the River Motława and Martwa Wisła, we pass hulking cranes and stationary ships. Our guide, Mike, points out historic sites – the 700-year-old Wisłoujście Fortress, and the Westerplatte Monument, marking where the first battle of the Second World War took place in 1939. Eventually, we reach the bay, for that uncapturable view. It's a relaxed introduction to Gdańsk, a European port city that sits pretty on Poland's Baltic coast. Over a long weekend in late June, the city reveals itself as the ideal spot for a break – one that, for me at least, gets the balance of everything just right. Fuel your wanderlust with our curated newsletter of travel deals, guides and inspiration. Sign up here. There's a lot going for it: an easily-walkable city centre, ample amenities (it's a struggle to pack in everything I want to do), and lively energy thanks to a smorgasbord of al fresco dining options. There's also a rich tapestry of history to unweave, dating back to the 10th century. So it's surprising, then, that Gdańsk doesn't crack Poland's top-five most-visited cities – the 2023 list was topped by Krakow, and featured the capital Warsaw, plus Wroclaw, dubbed the 'Venice of Eastern Europe'. Still, it's hardly empty, not quite an elusive 'hidden gem' – plenty of tourists join me in combing the Długi Targ (Long Market), and I spy many souvenir shops. But as I explore, even during peak summer season, I don't feel overwhelmed. I'm not a dot lost in a crowd. A lot of the action takes place in the city centre: Main City – where you'll find Długi Targ and connecting Długa Street – and the Old Town, a short walk north. In the former, the crown jewels are Neptune's Fountain, the grand Main Town Hall building (home to the excellent Museum of Gdańsk), and the Renaissance gate Brama Złota, which attracts the lens of every camera in the vicinity. At the end of Mariacka Street, you can't miss St Mary's – a striking Gothic church completed in 1502, said to be the largest brick church in the world. Stepping inside, I arch my neck to view its intriguing Astronomical Clock, a 15th century showstopper made by Hans Düringer that tracks not only the time but dates, solar and lunar positions. The 78 metre-tall tower offers one of Gdańsk's best views – if you can tackle its leg-buckling 409 stairs, 150 of which, to my dismay, are a claustrophobic spiral. Slightly out of breath, and jealous of a pigeon that simply flies to the top just as I complete the climb, my reward is spectacular – a sweeping panorama of pastel facades and orange rooftops. Tucked away near the imposing Green Gate is the Historic Free Zone Museum: a compact but fascinating venue that tells the story of life in the Free City of Danzig – what Gdańsk was called during its spell as a city-state under the League of Nations, from 1920 to 1939. I spend 45 minutes here, peering at old newspapers and relics in glass cases. From here, a 10-minute walk along the Motlawa takes you to the National Maritime Museum. In the Old Town, Radunia Canal flows past many of the area's musts, such as the oldest church in Gdansk, St Catherine's, which dates back to 1227 and houses many early timepieces, as well as the world's first pulsar clock. The Museum of the Second World War might be about a major part of history, but it lives in a strikingly contemporary building. It opened in 2017, with a permanent exhibition spanning 5,000 square metres and detailing the scale and impact of the war. As you might expect, it's really not a 'pop your head in for five minutes' type of place. Save three hours for it, at least. Nearby, I'm keen to see the Polish Post Office Museum, to learn more about one of the first acts of the war. On September 1st, 1939, Germany began its invasion of Poland, and along with the attack on Westerplatte, conducted a siege against the then-Free City of Danzig's post office. 58 people – many postal workers – managed to hold off the Nazis for 15 hours. Alas, it isn't open during my trip; closed for renovation until late 2026. Instead, I admire the silver Monument to the Defenders of the Polish Post Office outside the entrance. Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, soars above a defender laying on the ground – mail strewn around – as he hands her a rifle. A fitting tribute to determination, and worth visiting for alone. A yellow crane looms large inside the European Solidarity Centre's main exhibition. It was once used by Anna Walentynowicz, an activist fired from Gdańsk's former Lenin Shipyard for being part of an illegal trade union in August 1980 – which sparked a wave of strikes and the creation of Solidarnośc, an independently-run trade union, the first of its kind in the Eastern Bloc. Electrician (and future Polish president) Lech Wałęsa was at the helm, and soon it evolved into a social movement leading to the 1989 Round Table Talks, and ultimately the fall of communism in Poland. You can even sit inside its cabin. This is one of many immersive elements of the museum, which journeys through the transformative decade, from Halls A to G. As displays detail the timeline of events, interactive screens add extra context via photos, short films, front pages and satire cartoons, even recordings of songs that were banned at the time, listenable through a handheld speaker. Each hall is engagingly designed; one room captures the essence of where the Round Table Talks were held, down to the huge 1980s TV cameras in the corners. Another, a giant wall of white and red cards with notes from past visitors, poignantly spells out 'Solidarnośc'. Two to three hours could easily be spent here – there are also some temporary exhibitions, a library, coffee shop, and an oasis-like entrance floor, a tranquil space filled with greenery, to consider. In a nook on the side of Malbork Castle is a towering statue of the Madonna, holding baby Jesus. A holy figure, she shimmers in the distance, adorned in gold and red mosaic tiles. She is also, our guide Alicia explains, a reconstruction. Crafted in 1340, she was destroyed in an air raid in 1945, and restored in recent years. A lone severed hand from the original is on display alongside the castle's many exhibits, which include everything from religious statues and amber artefacts to medieval armour and weaponry. As we're shown around Malbork's 52-acre complex – it's the world's largest brick castle – and explore its many rooms (chapels, a dining hall, prison cells) over three levels, I note many other handless, and headless, statues along the way. It wasn't just the Madonna that needed restoring, but much of the castle. Dating back to 1280, it was built by the Teutonic Order, but in the 19th century underwent significant restoration – the extent of the conservation work is part of the reason it's inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The castle is beautiful, and Alicia points out where lighter, newer bricks contrast with older ones. As the tour draws to a close, we walk past a black and white photograph of the crumbled castle from 1945, and a man from Warsaw remarks to me that he recalls seeing the castle in that state as a child in the 1950s. Malbork is just 50-minutes from Gdańsk by car, so it makes for a good day trip. And it isn't the only one you can do. Gdańsk forms a Tri-City with neighbouring port Gdynia and seaside hotspot Sopot, which, everywhere I go, people keep telling me is a must-visit. If only I had more time… Heading down into the low-lit bar Piwnica Rajców, I know I'm about to get tipsy. I'm a well-established lightweight on a vodka-tasting experience, where I'll need to down six strong shots. Mariana, our host for the evening, asks us to reveal our favourite alcoholic drinks. Ironically, I answer 'vodka' – which is true, but typically with a mixer. That also suggests I know something about it, which isn't the case. Thankfully, she does, and we whir through Poland's proud history of producing the spirit, dating back to the 15th century. We clink and cheers na zdrowie! and work through the brands, among them: Żubrówka Bison Grass, which has a blade of the grass in every bottle; Soplica, a sickly sweet vodka I actually love; J. A. Baczewski, a classic potato-based spirit; and Goldwasser, a herbal liqueur with tiny gold flakes, famously produced in Gdańsk from 1598 until 2009, that goes down smoothly. To continue our education, Mariana recommends trying Machandel, a juniper-based vodka with roots in the city, at nearby Gdański Bowke. Embarrassingly, though, I'm done – and need to eat. More Trending At Pierogarnia Mandu, a window allows you to see the traditional Polish dish pierogi – a giant filled dumpling – being made inside the restaurant. A 20-minute queue stretches from the door to get in, but it's worth the wait for the generous choice of types (from boiled to deep fried) and fillings (both savoury and sweet). The zurek (sour rye soup, with Polish sausage, bacon and potatoes) is delicious, too. Elsewhere, vegan spot Manna 68 becomes a highlight of my trip thanks to its welcoming vibe, creative menu, and Silesian dumpling starter. Montownia, a thriving indoor food hall, overflows with options – Greek, Vietnamese, Georgian and Ukrainian eats are on offer, as are street food-style loaded fries, and smash burgers. Last but not least: sweets. The guided tours and museum-hopping are great, and have given me a whirlwind impression of the city. But a chilled interlude sitting in one of its many bakeries, watching the world go by with a jam-filled pączki (doughnut) in hand? That really makes everything just right. 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The South African
08-07-2025
- Business
- The South African
South Africa's 10 most expensive private schools in 2025
Hilton College is currently the most expensive private school in South Africa. Image: wikimedia commons Private education in South Africa isn't just premium, it's hitting luxury territory. In 2025, top boarding school fees have passed the R420 000 mark. That's shockingly more than most people's annual salary! Here's what you need to know about the most expensive private schools in the country, what they offer, and what kind of income you need to afford them. According to BusinessTech 's data from January 2025, private education costs in the country have reached new heights this year, with at least 10 private schools now charging over R340 000 per year for tuition and boarding. Rank School Location 2024 fees 2025 fees percentage increase 1 Hilton College Hilton, KZN R397 660 R420 729 5.8% 2 MichaelHouse Balgowan, KZN R368 000 R392 000 6.5% 3 St Andrew's College Makhanda, EC R363 879 R387 531 6.5% 4 Roedean School for Girls Johannesburg, GP R360 087 R387 093 7.5% 5 St John's College Johannesburg, GP R352 612 R376 589 6.8% 6 Kearsney College Botha's Hill, KZN R350 130 R374 330 6.9% 7 Bishops College Cape Town, WC R341 430 R364 680 6.8% 8 St Mary's Johannesburg, GP R335 470 R358 665 6.9% 9 St Alban's College Pretoria, GP R328 920 R353 580 7.5% 10 Diocesan School for Girls Makhanda, EC R323 040 R345 630 7.0% Well, these private schools justify their price tags with: World-class facilities, including modern labs, gyms, auditoriums, and Olympic-grade sports fields. Small class sizes: Think personalised attention and academic support. Leadership programs, which are often seen as stepping stones to Ivy League and top SA universities. Matric perks like private matric rooms, top-tier mentorship, and curated university application support. If you were to factor in the costs, to afford Hilton College or Michaelhouse comfortably, you'd need a household income of around R2.6 million to R2.8 million/year. For girls' schools like Roedean or St Mary's, you'd need around R1.4 million to R1.6 million/year. Let us know by leaving a comment below, or send a WhatsApp to 060 011 021 1 Subscribe to The South African website's newsletters and follow us on WhatsApp, Facebook, X and Bluesky for the latest news.
Scroll.in
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
For young readers: The lives of three school friends become entwined in riot-ridden Darjeeling
I could tell she didn't want to be there. She had that anywhere-but-here look that I would totally wear around the school if I could. Not judgy or anything, but like disappointed as hell maybe, even sad. I couldn't exactly figure what it was, but it looked like she was dying to run away or something. And, I mean, like who could blame her. Five years later and I still feel that way about St Mary's. Honestly, if I wasn't trying so hard to be liked, I'd have this anywhere-buthere look that would be 10 per cent disappointment, 15 per cent sadness, 20 per cent boredom, 25 per cent pure hatred, maybe about 30 per cent jealousy and like an extra 5 per cent of cringe and cranks thrown in like Domino's oregano or something, but with extra of that garlic. And I'm only a day scholar, which means I am out of here by 3.30 pm, 5.30 max on days there is some kind of practice, which does happen often actually. Of course, being a day scholar probably is a big reason for my hatred for the place; that and the nuns who have this annoying thing about turning us into 'ladies', whatever that even means. Although they also have these long masses – really hugeass productions of sorts that the whole school has to be part of, with choir practice and stuff, which can be really exhausting, but that is a story for another time. I was saying … oh ya, St Mary's. God, just the name makes me want to throw up. But also, now that I think about it, I don't understand why like families send their kids to boarding schools far away from themselves, all the way to Darjeeling in St Mary's case. Maybe parents want to get rid of their annoying kids, straighten them out and whatnot (I mean, I've watched Udaan and Taare Zameen Par and Warrior High, so I know what parents think will happen in boarding schools. Of course, you're hoping for an Ishaan and not Rohan. Even the whole Poppy Moore transformation in Wild Child could work, I suppose). But none of them seem like her at all. Anyways, it isn't like I have any real friends in this school to base all this grand theory on (probably the shittiest thing about my life might I add). For all I know, people actually believe that it could be great for their like angelic kids or something. Wait, but that wasn't what I was talking about. Seriously, I get distracted way too easily, but I'm kind of working on it so I guess it's kind of okay. Oh ya, I was saying, I can't imagine what it would be like for her. I mean, she's come in weeks after term started, plus in the tenth grade. No one ever comes in the tenth or twelfth grade, like it doesn't make sense with the board exams and stuff, which makes me wonder why she's here. From all the gossip I have eavesheard … is 'eavesheard' a thing? I think it should be. Anyways, from all the gossip I've eavesheard over the years, I want to guess it is because something life-altering happened, maybe even like tragic AF or something. I'll probably ask her when we become friends. Obviously, I knew as soon as she walked into class that we'd be friends, for a while anyways (which kind of always is the case with me). Mainly because she was going to need one – people here can get quite cliquey, especially with newcomers (unless, I guess if a Bollywood nepo baby showed up tomorrow spilling insider secrets about nose and boob jobs and dating histories or something) – and, because I don't really have any, I'm not all that picky. In fact, I am going to try my hardest before she somehow becomes friends with the others, which also always happens after a bit. Now I feel like I should explain why I have no real friends when I've been here for so long before I come across as some sort of total psycho. Like, I'm not evil or anything as the nuns call it. But I am a day scholar, which means that while I'm part of everyday chats about which new Wattpad story is about Harry Styles, the latest Marvel and One Direction releases, whether Bieber and Selena are back again, or a debate of TWICE vs. EXO vs. Red Velvet, I'm not really actually part of the groups. I mean, you get it. I guess there is a lot I miss once I go home and, somehow, it's never the same, no matter how hard I try. Plus, there's the whole cliché that I am a teacher's daughter. Baba teaches physics at St Mary's and there is always the 'she'll go tell her father' thing. Like, there have been so many times when the girls were busy gossiping about teachers and other girls and their boyfriends, making late-night plans of tuck raids and parties, and have quickly shut up or pretended to talk about something else when they saw me. But I guess at least they're always sweet to me because of it, and I do have a few class friends type situations that aren't all bad – like Shefali, and Charu, Aabha, even Shivangi to a certain extent. I once tried blackmailing my parents into letting me become a boarder, I am pretty sure that is the solution for most of my problems (my looks I can't do anything about myself really), but they said they didn't have the money for the boarding fees and that was that. 'Hi … umm … is it okay if I sit here?' she whispered as she walked to my desk. You don't really have a choice, do you? All other desks are taken. I shushed my mind. It has this habit of being super negative about everything and jumping to just like awful assumptions all the time. Aama says I must train it not to. 'Ya, sure,' I smiled instead, 'I'm Pema.' 'Inayat,' she gave a quick smile before sitting down to unpack her bag into the desk, arranging her books into proper piles, not like my messy dump. Neat freak, my mind said. I shushed it again. She looks shy as hell, Inayat does. Maybe it's because she's like so tiny. Or maybe because her short hair falls all over her big glasses, almost hiding her face, even though she has these huge eyes and her gold nose ring shines against her crazy white face. But it feels like she prefers it like that, like she is trying hard to stay as invisible as possible. I watched her pile her books on one side, her notebooks on the other. The short English novels she kept in the middle along with an old wooden case for her pens. 'That's a cute box,' I tried chatting. 'It's my Nana's … my Nani painted the prairie daisies on it,' she mumbled, looking down at the box. Her eyes began tearing up, and she quickly distracted herself with her desk again. Looks like she misses her grandparents, I thought. And I guess she likes these prayer daisies. Maybe I can show her the tiny daisies that grow in Darj someday, she might like that. They look pretty much the same as her box ones to me. I love the ones we have. They're so cute and friendly, like they're always giggling or something, like they're all best friends having fun. And we could even play the yes-or-no game with them, you know the one where you ask a question and then pluck each tiny petal for a yes or no until the last one left and that is god's answer or something. Ya ya, I know, I am getting distracted again. She kept a letter-writing pad in front and of course I wondered about who she'd be writing to. Maybe she has a lot of friends back home, even a boyfriend. She wouldn't need you then, would she? My mind piped up again. She'll use you like the others – just to chat with a little in class, get favours outside of school, and then forget about you when she's made other friends in the hostel. She stuck a few photos of … 'Are … are these your grandparents?' She nodded. … and a calendar of the first term with a drawing of a house at the end. I smiled and opened my desk to show her my term calendar, the days gone struck out on it with ginormous red Xs. She looked at me and gave another small smile, and I could totally tell then that we both felt the same way about being in this school – basically not wanting to be here. I'm kind of psychic like that
Powys County Times
07-07-2025
- General
- Powys County Times
Families to visit Tuam mass grave site ahead of excavation
Families and survivors of a notorious former mother and baby home in the west of Ireland are to visit the site on Tuesday ahead of its major excavation next week. The full-scale excavation of the site of St Mary's mother and baby home in Tuam, Co Galway will try to identify the remains of infants who died at the home between 1925 and 1961. In 2014, research led by local historian Catherine Corless indicated that 796 babies and young children were buried in a sewage system at the Co Galway institution across that time period. The St Mary's home for unmarried mothers and their children was run by the Bon Secours Sisters, a religious order of Catholic nuns. In 2021, Irish premier Micheal Martin delivered an apology on behalf of the state for the treatment of women and children who were housed in mother and baby homes across Ireland. The Bon Secours Sisters also offered a 'profound apology' after acknowledging the order had 'failed to protect the inherent dignity' of women and children in the Tuam home. Speaking to the PA news agency on Monday, Ms Corless said she found it 'overwhelming' to see the excavation work proceed after her 10-year campaign. 'There was no will to do anything for those babies except leave them there and put a monument over them. 'But this was a sewer system and I couldn't give up on them. They were all baptised, they deserve to be in consecrated ground.' Ms Corless said it was a 'huge relief' to be able to 'let go and back off', after being faced with obstacles in her campaign from people she initially thought would be helpful. 'It is huge for me to know those babies are finally going to get the dignity they deserve – it is a wrong put right.' Anna Corrigan, who discovered that she had two older brothers who were born while her mother was a resident at the Tuam home, visited the site on Monday. Speaking to reporters, she said: 'These children were denied every human right in their lifetime, as was their mothers. 'They were denied dignity – and they were denied dignity and respect in death. 'So I'm hoping that today maybe will be the start of hearing them because I think they've been crying for an awful long time to be heard.' The work at the burial site, which is being undertaken by the Office of the Director of Authorised Intervention Tuam (ODAIT), will involve exhumation, analysis, identification if possible and re-interment of the remains at the site. On Monday, ODAIT held a media briefing which gave members of the press access to the site. The site, surrounded by a 2.4 metre-high hoarding, is subject to security monitoring on a 24-hour basis to ensure the forensic integrity of the site during the excavation. The excavation is scheduled to begin on Monday and is anticipated to last two years. Speaking to reporters, ODAIT leader Daniel MacSweeney said the family and survivor visit will be 'the most important event of the week'. He said: 'We continue to work closely with the residents living close to the site to ensure minimum disruption is caused to them by the works.' Mr MacSweeney said the excavation will work to international best practices when it came to forensic standards. He said ODAIT was trying to restore dignity in death for the infants, adding that the remains would be reburied following consultation with families. The work will involve a long, complex process of recovering all the remains within the site and then separating the 'mixed up' skeletal specimens by sorting them by age and using processes to assess sex. This will allow for the individualisation of each set of remains and it is hoped that identification of some of those buried can take place with the assistance of DNA provided by families as well as other records. Mr MacSweeney said the Bon Secours Sisters had provided ODAIT with access to its archive material and it is hoped that this will also help the identification process. The team will also attempt to establish cause of death where possible. Dr Niamh McCullagh, a forensic archaeologist with ODAIT said a 2016 'test excavation' discovered 20 chambers within a disused sewage tank that contained infant remains ranging from 35 foetal weeks up to three years old, from a period matching the operation of the institution between 1925-1961. Asked if it was possible that criminal cases may arise out of the work, Dr McCullagh said ODAIT is obliged to notify the local coroner of any evidence of violent or unnatural deaths. Dr McCullagh said it is difficult to estimate how long it will take to separate and complete the process of identification of the 'commingled remains', as they are yet to establish the scale of the work ahead. The team also expects to find personnel effects associated with the operation of the institution, having discovered items like shoes and feeding bottles in the 2016 dig. However, the work will be complicated as excavators expect to uncover artefacts relating to previous uses of the site, including as a workhouse. Meanwhile, 14 people have provided DNA to ODAIT to assist with identification thus far. Around 80 others have expressed interest in providing DNA samples to the team, including 30 who made contact in the last month. Mr MacSweeney said he expects that more people will get in touch as the work proceeds. The team has a 9.4 million euro budget for 2025, with further allocations yet to be finalised by the Department of Public Expenditure.
