Northern Ireland
Wednesday, 1 November, 2000:
LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM > > >
We just arrived in London tonight, getting into Charlie and Sheila's not until 2 o'clock a.m. (our plane was delayed). We caught a train to King's Cross tube station and looked for a taxi from there. London can be a scarey place in the middle of the night! Outside the station I got on a bus to ask a question of the driver, and there was a drunk guy behind me on the bus. I swear, as I went to leave the drunk's arm went up and came down, like he was going to stab something into my back, but I jumped out the door fast. Who knows...
Wednesday, 8 November, 2000:
DERRY, NORTHERN IRELAND > > >
I decided a few weeks ago that I would go to Northern Ireland. It wasn't hard to change my flights around,
allowing for two weeks here. The rest of the group went on the Germany for the two weeks.
I know it sounds crazy that I'm in an area of seemingly perpetual conflict, and I was a bit worried
about that. However, I felt Ireland drawing me in, for some reason, so I decided to follow that.
I stayed for a few days at the house of Rev. Ruth Patterson, who was the first woman ordained into any
church in all of Ireland. Her life's calling was to leave the church and set up
Restoration Ministries, which works towards reconciliation -- true peace -- between the
people of Northern Ireland; Restoration House also serves as a place for those who have worked for peace but are
spent and weary.
Ruth is an incredibly special person who has an open mind and heart, and sees clearly that the fighting
has to stop and make room for reconcilition, which includes justice and isn't the same as compromise. Ruth is a
close friend of Jean Vanier (a Canadian), who started the worldwide l'Arche movement. She told me stories about
him and what a wonderful person he is. The idea behind l'Arche is to bring mentally-disabled people
under the same roof as "normal" people, who aren't nurses but instead fellow community members.
Ruth told me that after living like this you realize that those with disabilities -- who are perhaps the most
marginalized and outcaste group in any society -- in fact have a great deal to teach us about joy and love.
I spent last weekend at Corrymeela community, which is
a similar idea to Ruth's program only much larger and longer established (since the Troubles began in
the 60s). Corrymeela is a resident community which brings in groups from troubled areas, from both sides
of the divide. Getting them together away from the area of conflict is one of the key goals, and this fosters understanding
and communication between them.
I saw this most clearly in a group of 6-9 year olds I worked with on Saturday, who played together and made music
without any thought to who was protestant or catholic or loyalist of republican. Not surprisingly, they couldn't
tell the difference. I wish they wouldn't have to go back home, and get sectarian ideas planted from their
communities.
The groups that go up are from certain specific areas of society; for example, this weekend was a group of
single mothers from both sides and a student group on spirituality; other groups include "Over the Wall" --
people who live immediately on either side of the so-called "Peace Wall" in Belfast, which seperates out
the most ghettoized areas of protestants and catholics -- these people live with grenades and molotov
cocktails hurled over the wall into their backyards, and they can't even see who does it.
I am learning so much here, and it is refreshing not to be a tourist here but a student of experience. I
even explored the ghettoized areas of Belfast, Shankill and Fall roads, and got a first hand experience of the mural paintings everywhere
of masked, armed paramilitaries, extreme politicization, British troops with massive machine guns, and the
fear that any minute a shot might ring out and hit you or, worse, that you might witness others killed in front of you.
I am in Derry now, staying with a friend from Corrymeela. I plan to return there this weekend as well. I ask everyone
who reads this to remember Northern Ireland and express hope for the fragile peace process here.
By the way, there is little need to worry for me. Firstly, I am no longer in Belfast where most of the violence happens,
and secondly what violence there is has been within rival paramilitary groups on the Loyalist side, and there
is little chance of open conflict soon.
Right now I am crossing my fingers about the US elections, hoping desperately that Bush doesn't get
in.
Thursday, 16 November, 2000:
BARCELONA, SPAIN > > >
I arrived in Catalonia late last night. Due to intense fog over London, I had to wait 8 hours in Belfast for my plane to leave! I haven´t seen much here, but my Spanish is slowly progressing; I´ve talked to a few people who only speak Spanish and have got the message accross.
I´ll just catch up the journal since my last entry. In Derry, I walked around the city walls, which are very old and very lovely. Over one side was a massive police station, which also looked like a prison. There was barbed wire everywhere. Next to the station was a massive metal tower which looked like it was for power lines. However, instead of power lines it had video surveillance cameras all over it, probably at least 50 at many levels. All of them pointed towards the Catholic district of Bogside, which was just down the hill. That was actually where the Troubles formally broke out, after a Catholic Civil Rights march was fired on by the British Army killing 13. It was known as Bloody Sunday. The demonstrators were not armed. They carried only banners asking for an improvement in the human rights of Catholics in N. Ireland. After that incident, riots broke out in the area, which became known as the Battle of the Bogside. I suppose I would be a little bit angry, too, if my friends were shot for simply carrying a banner asking for better treatment.
I visited the Bloody Sunday Centre, which houses photos of the march and aftermath, as well as the infamous Civil Rights banner, covered in blood after the carriers were shot. I put my hands on the plastic covering the banner. The blood looked more like dark mud after all these years. Something powerful came out of those bloodstains. It drew me closer. I pushed my forehead against the surface, and thought: This blood could have been my blood. I would have been there in that march. Maybe I would have been near the front. That blood would have been my blood. It wasn´t a feeling of fear, but of intense sadness, of despair. My life is intimately connected to the life that once was in that blood.
That afternoon, I caught the bus up north, back to Corrymeela. On the way I wrote a song about my feelings that day:
After 28 years the blood has turned black
After 28 years the blood has turned black
But have they been forgotten
Like the red of their blood, and
After 28 years are we still on track?
After 28 years their names are still with us
After 28 years were their efforts in vain?
They died while protesting,
With thousands of others
Their blood has turned black
But we still have their names.
After 28 years have their families forgiven
After 28 years how could we forget?
When we struggle for justice
Like the thirteen that died,
We struggle for justice deep in their debt.
On the 30th of January, 1972
The shots rang loud in the streets
Those who died were protesting were armed only
With Civil Rights banners
To protect "Law and Order" they were shot by police.
After 28 years the Great Tide of justice
Continues to rise round the world
Whether peace with the Earth
Or true peace among humans
The banners of justice unfurled.
After 28 years the blood has turned black
Where on the white banner it fell.
It´s been 28 years and the blood has turned black
If I were alive then I´d have been there as well.
< < < <
I had a really good weekend at Corrymeela. I did a lot of music with a group of single parents that came in, and met a whole bunch of wonderful people, including some of the staff, who are a lot of fun. Corrymeela has grown incredibly close to me. I don´t know how I´ll manage being apart from it for a long time. I have been invited back in April, which I´m seriously considering, if only for a month. There is an incredible power to the place. And the volunteer residents are young like me but so different from the average people my age. I can really relate to them. They´re also very fun to be around. The work they do up there is so important.
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