About Me

My photo
hopeful holds the tension/ dew jewels cling the sway/ clasped tight against the world/ not yet knowing it's ok/ the waiting deepens color/ trying to accept every sun ray/ gathering its truth song/ beauty at bay so long/ awaiting opening to day/

Friday, July 3, 2009

Belfast, Part 1: "Throwing rocks at Catholics"

The lady I'm staying with took me on a driving tour of Belfast yesterday. The city's history is painted all over the town. The curbs in West Belfast are painted red, white and blue (the colors of the British flag) and in East Belfast, everything that is in English is also in Gaelic (or Irish). This is street graffitti that is common to the area urging people to vote for the Irish Language Act - the reason it's "needed now more than ever" might be because people are attempting to re-write their stories, and, if you're a Nationalist, Gaelic is part of your story. Let me explain...

Some of you have undoubtedly heard (maybe even lived through) the "stuff" that gives Belfast it's "crazy city" reputation. Basically, there's been fighting and para-military control and violence for a long time, heightened over the last 30 years. There are two MAIN groups (though there are, of course, divisions within each of these groups that complicates matters even further). There are the Unionists, or Loyalists. These are typically Protestants who live in West Belfast (or little Protestant "wedges" in East Belfast -and everyone knows where the boundaries are around here), and they are loyal to the British crown (not necessarily the British government). There is a strong sense of abandonment in these people - neither the Irish want them (mostly because they have rejected Irish for British citizenship) and the Brits don't want them (they have poured so much money into this place only to have it languish in poverty. Then, there are the Nationalists, or the Republicans. These are mostly Catholics living in East Belfast (or bordered ares in West Belfast) and they are loyal to the Republic of Ireland and Dublin. There has been senseless beating, bar bombing, guerilla warfare, violence and murder here for over thirty years - so much so that Shankill, an area of West Belfast has a "peace wall" running through it - it is only open for a few hours during the day. The friend who I know the lady I'm staying with through grew up in Shankill, "throwing rocks at Catholics" (the way she tells the story). I don't think she did particularly, but I now believe that this actually happened - over the peace wall, Protestants threw rocks at Catholics, and Catholics (even up to this day) kick Protestants out of their homes.

Identity is really, really important to these people. There are these types of paintings ALL over Belfast, letting you know where you are and whose the people you are around are. "Gable End" (the side of a store or shop) graffitti is incredibly common - most are memorials to the dead - either particular people (like "5 Protestants killed in cold blood"), a particular person such as Edward Carson who was a politician that signed the covenant to keep Northern Ireland part of the UK, or in general and each side presents itself as helpless victims of the other (at least, that's what it seemed like to me).

All of the murals are this blatant with their own message, depending on what side you are on (can yu tell which side this mural was found on? Oh, and the red lettering says "90 years of resistance"). Honestly all this urging people to never forget the past struck me as propoganda keeping people stuck in stories that may or may not fit with who they are today.

Identity is actually so important that every year, for their 12th of July Parade - they have a huge bonfire. This is the trash heap the people have been saving up for nearly a month. And, if you look closely, at the top of the pile, they've actually got a guard stationed there so people don't steal the trash. There are British flags zigzagging across the air connecting Loyalist telephone poles, and anything they can paint red white and blue (the curb stays that way all year, but fences, parts of buildings, fire hydrants, etc. get decked out - it was an eerie sort of 4th of July-esque feeling, only much much more vehemence behind the symbols and colors).


It's not all drudgery, though. There are signs of hope beginning to emerge - I saw one Suicide Awareness Clinic in the West, and one in the East. The fact that there even has to be "awareness" about it makes me realize just how entrenched these people were (and in some ways still are) in para-military control and rigid, boundaried, identity-loaded ways of thinking. What's important to note here, though, is that people are realizing that the story they've been handed - the story these murals tell (they are on shops, apartment buildings, public squares, etc) - are not who they really are, or who they want to be.

The personal parallels are, in my opinion, more than coincidence. The past filled with violence (ok, mine not as blatant, obviously), the scarring of control (real or perceived), and the quest for identity (basically, the entire reason I'm halfway around the world right now...) are rumbling within my own heart just as they are displayed for all to see around this city. What an intricate crochet-er God must be to bring me to such a place as this...

No comments:

Post a Comment