An Irishman's Diary

"Other people have a nationality," wrote Brendan Behan. "The Irish and the Jews have a psychosis." I was reminded of his words by an article in the International Herald Tribune this week about the bourgeoning transatlantic trade in dirt: a trade that involves homesick expatriates buying small bagfuls of earth from the old country, often for sprinkling on graves.

Naturally, the US has strict laws about soil importation, designed to protect agriculture. So, as the IHT reports, only two countries have so far secured permits for exporting dirt to the diaspora. No prizes for guessing which countries.

The Irish thought of it first, or so I was assured yesterday by a spokesman for the Auld Sod Export Company, which began trading last year and has since sold $1 million worth of soil via an office in Cork, a factory in Tipperary, and a distribution centre in New Jersey.

Once the business was seen to be profitable, however, the Israelis lost no time in getting involved.

The websites of the respective suppliers make interesting comparison. Even the names - officialirishdirt.com and holylandearth.com - suggest the difference in their sales pitches. The Israeli site invokes religion, with all soil "certified authentic by a Rabbi"; whereas the Irish site is more secular, with the emphasis on luck and romance.

Both suppliers stress that, despite the treatment process necessary to get the stuff through US customs, the soil is fertile. Indeed, the Auld Sod Company sells shamrock seeds as part of the package and also recommends users to grow "an Irish rose" for their loved ones.

But an important part of both the Irish and Jewish markets is the customer who wants the soil for purposes other than horticulture.

Incorporating a piece of the old country in your house foundations is now increasingly fashionable, while no funeral is complete without a handful of the imported earth.

Depending on your levels of income and homesickness, in fact, it may be a lot more than a handful. Never mind that TV ad about a man called "Seanie" trawling New York to buy his aged father an All-Ireland ticket ("Might be a long time before they make the final again, Pops"). The really thoughtful - and extravagant - present now for an elderly expat is the promise of a grave composed entirely of the old country.

The Auld Sod Export Company was surprised last year when a Galway-born man placed exactly such an order. At $15 for a 12-ounce bag, the trade is normally pitched at small-scale buyers. A whole grave could cost $100,000, as they explained to the caller. "We thought it was a wind-up," the spokesman said. "But the man's son was a lawyer and he drew up a contract. We have a deposit now."

The Israeli website has taken note. Its "frequently asked questions" section includes one from a customer expressing satisfaction with the attractive 16-ounce packets, but wondering if it would be possible to buy enough for complete burial. "Yes," assures the company. "While it would be rather expensive, this is a request we are capable of fulfilling."

BRENDAN BEHAN'S quip aside, Ireland and Israel do have several things in common: troubled histories, long-running peace processes, and major clout in US politics being the most obvious ones.

But surely the strangest link between the two countries is the theory - still popular in certain quarters - that the Ark of the Covenant is buried on the Hill of Tara.

You'll remember from your Bible school that the Ark was a box containing the Ten Commandments and other sacred items. It was built by Moses on instructions from God, as a focal point through which the Israelites could be guided along "the path of righteousness". Then at some stage, it was either lost or destroyed; and for those who believe it was merely lost, Jerusalem's Temple Mount and a church in Ethiopia are among the sites where it is hoped to be found eventually.

But the Hill of Tara has its adherents too. You can still find them on the internet, although their heyday was more than a century ago, in 1899, when a group of "British Israelites" won permission from the local landlord to excavate the site, over howls of protest from nationalists and conservation groups.

Arthur Griffith and WB Yeats were among those who campaigned against the vandalism - they were ordered off the land by a man with a rifle - until the still ark-less diggers finally gave up in 1902. The story has been told in a fascinating book, Tara and the Ark of the Covenant, by Máiréad Carew.

I only mention this because of course the area around Tara is again being excavated, again over the howls of protesters who believe that, in the route chosen for the M3 motorway, the Government has strayed from the path of righteousness (which was the so-called "Pink corridor", east of Skryne village).

Critics of the M3 plan see it as a symbol of a country in which everything is for sale, and they may be right. But if the M3 does finally get built along the contentious route - something that is now in doubt following yesterday's developments - the NRA should make the best of a bad job by exporting the topsoil to the US, in 12-ounce packets. It would be a very lucrative sideline, as we have seen.

With the right marketing, the product could hit both the key ethnic groups.