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"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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The Wool Over Our Eyes
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
I'm about to write a somewhat controversial blog post. Perhaps not controversial, but asking questions that most people around here would not ask, and I feel there are very important. I also feel that these are things to consider for anyone out there following what transpires in Northern Ireland. Everything is not as it seems.
I've heard Tomas say to me many times how safe the area is that we live in. One night we went for a run together, and he left the apartment door unlocked. Most nights it's dark when the taxi drops me off on the Andytown road, and as I walk up through the alley, I remind myself that this is a safe neighborhood, and though I might've felt threatened walking through a similar area in America, I needn't feel that way here. Even last night, as I passed a group of young men in hooded sweatshirts, I didn't feel as urgent of a need to take countermeasures, like crossing the street or pulling out my apartment keys and placing them between my fingers like makeshift weapons.
But lately, there have been a lot of reports on the BBC about attacks and robberies, particularly in North and West Belfast, that I find troubling (though I will come to how much or how little I now trust the BBC later). In the BBC, these are said to be mainly robberies and assaults in the course of robberies. Some of the most recent ones are targeting the elderly, which is especially awful. These reports bring two somewhat related issues to my mind: first, the troubling representation of the motivations of these attacks in the media, and second, why these are attacks are taking place in what's always been safe territory .
On the BBC's Northern Ireland page today, the main article is about a man shot dead by masked men in a neighborhood in Derry. The headline reads: "Dissidents Blamed for City Murder - Politicians have blamed dissident republicans for the murder of a man in Londonderry Wednesday." The article then goes on to say that it's suspected that drugs were involved (as they so often are, according to the BBC, whenever 'dissident' republicans are involved...). Further down in the article, we find out exactly WHO has decided that it was these so-called 'dissident' republicans: DUP Assembly member William Hay. According to him, "That is worrying because you still have organisations out there who think the only way they can solve the problem of Northern Ireland is by killing someone and taking the law into their own hands.They don't have any respect for law and order themselves."
And, lest you think that I am completely biased and do not give weight to the other side of the argument, here is what the Sinn Fein representative for Derry, Raymond McCartney, had to say about the incident. Notice how little it differs: "The people in this city have overwhelmingly shown their support for the republican project as it's going forwards, and if these people are trying to step in to fill any vacuum which they feel exists then they have had their answer. So if this is coming from a group that calls themselves republicans then there is no support for their actions."
Really?
I, personally, know many people who would severely disagree with that assessment. Who would even vehemently disagree with the label of 'dissident.' In their eyes, they are the ones who are continuing to carry on the republican ideal, they are the ones who didn't sign up to an agreement that cedes control of the island, and compromises the constitution of the Republic, and recognizes, for the first time in republican history, the British government in Ireland by participating in the parliament of what they see as an illegal partition - to them, those who signed that agreement are the 'dissidents.' It has become a curious juxtaposition to observe. If one group in power says that the other is carrying out illegal activities motiviated by money and drugs, this disenfranchises them from what they view as their own ideals: republicanism. It prevents the general public from making their own judgment. It makes 'republicanism' the sole purview of one specific group, which cannot be infringed upon, and anyone not in that group who purports to be a republican simply cannot be, and moreover, they are probably a criminal. In this, the motivations of Sinn Fein and the DUP are remarkably similar, and though they are 'enemies,' they are getting a lot out of a not-so-inconspicuous symbiotic relationship.
Second. And probably what I would get most in trouble for saying. Think back, those of you who are familiar, to the nature of nationalist communities during the Troubles. The RUC was largely unable to enter many nationalist strongholds. Where did the law and order come from? How did these communities stay safe? There's one very simple and controversial answer: the IRA. They were nearly as heavily involved in policing their own communities as fighting their enemy. There was a much lower level of petty crime during that period (and no, you're right, I haven't any verifiable figures at the moment to back that up; I know I've read it, but take this as my journalist acknowledgement that I'm not giving you a concrete fact at the moment, and get off my back). Why the rise in neighborhood crime nowadays? People aren't getting blown up or butchered by rival paramilitaries with the same frequency (or at all, really), but elderly people are being held at gunpoint and robbed in their own homes, young women have been raped on the Queen's campus, and homes are getting burgled with shocking regularity and disregard. Why?
The police service in Northern Ireland is still hotly contested and incredibly controversial (I really need a thesaurus, 10 points to whoever can suggest a new word for controversial for me, thanks). They still encounter gangs in many areas they try to act in. They aren't a strong presence in most (nationalist) communities. What used to be there, that took the place of an effective police service, is the IRA. The IRA acted against 'anti-social behaviour,' as it's known here. Whether you agree with their methods or not, and most don't (kneecapings, punishment beatings, etc.) it's hard to argue against the fact that petty crime has gone up since the decommissioning of the IRA. I don't think a young man should lose the use of his legs because he is severely misguided and engages in activities that are illegal, but I would also like to retain the safety I feel in Andytown. I can only assume that there are others out there who feel the same way.
This is important. So much of what the world now knows about Northern Ireland has a rosy sort of a glaze over it, huddled in the 'success' of the peace process and the supposed transition to a post-conflict society, swathed in triumphalism and phrases like reconciliation, hope, peace, moving forward, moving past...
I'm not saying there hasn't been progress. Obviously, there has been a tremendous effort and society has transformed in many significant ways. I wouldn't be able to live here safely if that wasn't true. All I'm saying is that, as one person said so succinctly to me when I was here in July, "Northern Ireland is a post-violence society, not a post-conflict society." There is still fear, there is still struggle, and there are still so many who feel disenfranchised and left behind. How can Northern Ireland truly become a "post-conflict" society until these issues are addressed?
written by
ebienelson
on February 11, 2009
from
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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My First Security Alert
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
This morning on the way to work, I experienced my very first Belfast security alert.
I was in the black taxi with Tomas, and as we we neared the roundabout at the Glen Road (only the second one from our house on the trip down the Andersonstown/Falls Road), traffic was suddenly backed up. Tomas turned around (he, unfortunately, was in the crappy facing-backward-pull-out seat) and asked the taxi driver what was going on. Here, I have re-enacted it for you:
Tomas: Here, what's going on mate?
Driver: What?
Tomas: What's going on?
Driver: What?
Tomas: With the traffic, mate, what's going on with the traffic?
Driver: Oh, security alert, down by, uh, offa the Springfield Road.
Tomas: What for?
Driver: What?
Tomas: What's the alert for?
Driver: Where? Down the road, not sure exactly...
Tomas: No, WHAT.
Driver: Oh right, what, I don't know. Suspicious objects, probably.
Tomas: Aye, three dead clowns.
We got through the roundabout at the Glen road, and inched down past the park and the City Cemetary, and as we got to the intersection at the Whiterock road, the taxi driver went through the roundabout, and then, instead of going straight, swung around at the last second (as black taxi drivers are want to do) and went right, down through the back streets off the Falls. We weaved our way through the streets and then came back up to the Falls past the Whiterock road, and came up finally on the other side of the Springfield Road, where we could see police directing traffic. But the road was still backed up. So he went back through the side streets (the very narrow tiny sidestreets, might I add, so much so that I often thought we're gonna sideswipe that car parked on the sidewalk and I'm going to end up in the driver's seat of the other car) and finally came up on the other side of the Culturlaan. Looking back through the window, we could see that the block the Culturlaan sits on was completely cordoned off and there were a few police vans parked across the road, a few of the cops standing about. Then occurred an apparently typical Belfast conversation that I had never witnessed before:
Tomas: It's the Culturlaan?
Lady Sitting Next to Me: There's no cars parked outside, so it musn't be a car bomb.
Tomas: Suspicious objects outside the Culturlaan. They must've found some Ulster Scotch speakers.
Later, when I got into work, I mentioned the back-up to Caoimhe, who also lives in Andytown. She said her 'wee nephew' goes to school just beside the Culturlaan, so she phoned him and asked what was going on. Apparently, it wasn't the Culturlaan at all (which I never really thought it was, it's a rather benign place, at least for West Belfast. I mean, plop the thing down on the Newtownards Road and you'd have trouble, but it's smack in the middle of Republican West Belfast. No problem.) It was the Beehive, which is a pub just across the road. Apparently, someone got killed there.
So there you have it. My first real authentic Belfast experience. Now, for all of you at home, it's your job to calm down my parents and assure them it's not dangerous here. They're probably freaking out. I think I'm safer here than in Murderapolis...
written by
ebienelson
on February 10, 2009
from
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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Conossieur of Warm Liquids
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
I have become an eternal seeker of warm things. I spend quite a bit of time hunting for my next hot coffee, burning hours sitting in La Boca consuming gallons of free hot tea. I even spent 2 pound 50 on a hot chocolate at the Europa Hotel on Saturday, to stem the flow of the ever present wet chill in Belfast. "Would you like tea or coffee?" is the often the first question asked of you when entering a new place. My reply is always "Oh, coffee would be AMAZING." I clutch my ceramic mug, trying to pull every inch of warmth from it. Friday, at a meeting, I was served lukewarm coffee. I couldn't believe it. This climate demands steaming hot coffee and tea, especially because no one seems to know how to turn on the regular heating indoors. I am a connossieur of warm liquids. And I need another cup of coffee.
Ah, that's better. Anyway, it has come to my attention that no matter where you are, no matter how much you love what you are doing, weekends are never long enough. This Saturday the weather was actually quite lovely, especially for Belfast in February and especially given the crap-tastic weather we'd been having lately. Tomas had to work all day (shocker, I know) so I made plans with Zulema, the Spanish EVS intern at Public Achievement. We met at St. George's Market at 2pm, not realizing that was actually when it closed. She had a friend with her, Udi, who was visiting from Barcelona, and we also met Noemie, who is Belgian (!). After sharing 2 pig sandwiches (literally, the spit was right behind our table; I had to concert really hard on not thinking about exactly where my delicious sandwich originated from) we went to the Europa Hotel, because Zulema had heard there was a free jazz concert. Well, I guess there was... if you mean 4 old guys in a hotel bar. They weren't too bad, actually. We were the youngest people in the place by about 30 years, easily. We also met up with Clarisse, an EVS intern from France, Milos, EVS from Poland, and Musti, who's from Turkey. Musti annoys me. He's one of those who just won't let it go that I'm here of my own volition and not getting paid. I swear to God, the next person who says to me "What, you're not getting paid? WOOOOW" I'm gonna smack them. Seriously. Back off, already.
After the 'concert' we went back to Zulema's for dinner (after much deliberation from myself; Musti was annoying the crap out of me and I knew Tomas had a break from 6-7 before he started working the concert that we had intended to go to. Eventually I decided that while I was tired of Musti, I was REALLY tired of sitting around in bars waiting for Tomas. So, there ya go). We drank wine, her Catalonian friend Udi made tortilla patata, more EVS people came, pan tomate was made along with soup and potato gratin by Abdi (from France), and before you knew it, there were about 15 people there, from about 7 different countries - Spain, France, Italy, Belgium, Ireland, Turkey, Poland, America, and Armenia. Holy. Crap.
It was so amazing, like a big dysfunctional family. We were the younger, alcoholic version of the UN. Only with less shouting. Ok, maybe more shouting. My favorite person of the night by far was Cailin (pronounced Cahl-yeen), who had just returned from EVS Israel, and who actually lives right up the street from me in Andytown. Fantastic! We have a ton in common and I'm really excited to have a friend that doesn't require a taxi ride to get to. Yay.
At about 10pm Cailin, Jo (from Belgium, we spoke Flemish together!) and Alessandro (Italy) all got in a taxi and went to the John Hewitt, because I was supposed to meet my friend Rebecca at 10:30, and eventually Tomas. Somehow we managed to get a table, which is in itself an absolute miracle on a Saturday night at the Hewitt. It would be like going to the Library on a Saturday night and not being hit on by a pretentious frat house jock nasty cologney man. Near impossible, right? Yeah. We had a really good time, aside from Jo and Cailin getting into a pseudo-political discussion, which would be fine aside from the fact that Jo is super dramatic and was flailing her arms about and practically shouting and making everyone uncomfortable... enter Tomas, and the gay guy he works with Anthony, whom I love! Whew. Everything was much better after that. Tomas brought Anthony, Anthony's boyfriend Matt, and Nicole, another girl he works with, to the pub. So Cailin and Nicole and I had some girl time (yay! I have girlfriends!), so next weekend I won't have to depend on Tomas for my social life. That, I think, will be a huge step in my feeling like this is really my home, to feeling independent and in charge of my life here. I don't like to be or even just to feel like I'm dependent on Tomas. He's been really fantastic, but I didn't come here for him, I came here for myself, and I need to stay true to that.
So after the Hewitt closed at about quarter past one, Cailin, Nicole, Tomas and I went back to the Castle (aka our apartment) and had rum (sidenote: Megan, you know what this is all about. Also, Tomas decided not to throw out your mattress, because Nicole slept on it and said it's amazingly comfortable). Went to bed at half past 4, and did absolutely nothing yesterday. Lovely.
written by
ebienelson
on February 9, 2009
from
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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2 comments...
I Spent the Whole Taxi Ride This Morning Trying to Think of a Clever Title But I Couldn't.
Derry
,
United Kingdom
Yesterday, Tomas and I went to Derry with his organization for the annual Bloody Sunday commemoration/civil rights march. This year, the theme was the war in Gaza, and so nearly everyone on the march was carrying Palestinian flags in solidarity with their suffering (very interested to see how I'll get mine through US customs). Derry is a very cold and windy place, so we were freezing the whole day. The march started up at Creggan, which is perched on the hill high above the Bogside. We then wound our way down the hill towards the Bog, which gave way to some spectacular views of Derry and the river and the surrounding countryside. Naturally, my camera battery died after about the 5th picture I took of Tomas and his Starry Plough flag, so the rest of my pictures of the march are on my BlackBerry and I haven't yet figured out if I'm able to transfer them to the computer or how I might do that. Suggestions?
We ran into one of Tomas's friends and nipped away from the parade and went into this family's house with about 10 other people. She fed us each a bowl of soup and bread and we were in and out in about 5 minutes, perfect timing to join back up with the parade before our friends noticed!
Driving back was almost as interesting. We went with Tomas's friend Donal, who from what I can figure is around mid-40s. We had gotten off the highway in North Belfast for him to get petrol next to an area called Mount Vernon (where I may be observing some groups), whose main attraction is a gigantic mural perched above a soccer field featuring a masked man with a gun that says "Mount Vernon Volunteers: Ready for Peace. Prepared for War." It's lovely. As we drove down through the neighborhoods en route to the Falls Road, Donal told us about where he grew up and where/when he got his "first proper beating for being a Catholic" (his words, not mine). He grew up in an area that was much more mixed than it is now, around Tiger's Bay. He was beaten up by a gang of Protestant boys when he was 4, and the lady who owned the shop outside of which he got beaten gave the boys some icies after they beat him up.
We then drove right through Tiger's Bay, and without so much as a warning, Donal said we were now in New Lodge, which is a Catholic area. No peace wall. No fence. No nothing to separate the two communities (as far as I could tell), but a change from a DUP office on one street to St. Somebody's primary school on the next. Apparently this area (with no surprise) was one of the deadliest during the Troubles. Around 500 Catholics were murdered along one stretch of road, the Cliftonville road, also know as the Murder Mile or something like that. We drove past a police station and Donal mentioned (ever so casually, the way someone in America might mention they'd eaten at that restaurant they'd just passed, not so good food) that his brother had been "put away" - i.e. arrested - for trying to blow it up.
It was pretty surreal. You hear all these stories about how things like that happened to people - neighbors being shot, family members beat up, people burnt out of their homes - but it has a very different taste when you're sitting in a car with a man who's experienced nearly every aspect of the Troubles. It gains a very real human face. It makes you afraid. I felt a very real sense of relief as soon as we turned onto the Falls Road, because West Belfast is much more insulated, and there's fewer little onclaves of different communities, making it much more homogenous. I feel safe there. I think that after hearing Donal's stories, I would feel less safe in North Belfast. It's not necessarily that I would feel unsafe in a Protestant community, so much as the fact that interface areas (where Protestant and Catholic communities intersect), tend to be the most violent. In West Belfast, in Andytown, I can be almost 100% certain that every person on the street or in the shop is from the same community - my community now - and that I don't have to worry about there being any flairups. You can see how that kind of mentality very quickly leads to entrenched sectarianism. I think it also applies on the Protestant side. For me, at least, as I said, I would be fine in any community. But according to Tomas, there's still real possiblities at flashpoint areas for Trouble to arise (again, why I wouldn't want to live in an interface community as much). For example, on his way back from a meeting a Derry a month or two ago, he and a few of the guys he was with from the IRSP (Irish Republic Socialist Party) went into a chipper called Bridie's in Drumahoe. Now, Drumahoe is home to a lot of policemen. Apparently, Tomas and his friends got some very, very frosty looks from the people inside, because they were wearing IRSP badges. That's why when we stopped there for Donal yesterday, Tomas told him to make sure he wasn't wearing anything that would identify him with the Catholic/Nationalist community.
And yet, you go out to a pub and you see and hear people from both communities interacting absolutely fine - people that have been friends for years. You wonder why there's such a difference between these people and the people in Tiger's Bay who have alarms in their homes going directly to the paramilitaries, or the people who yell sectarian slurs at each other during old Firm matches (when the Rangers play the Celtics in Scotland; Tomas is taking me to the conference final match next month and I made him promise to glue me to his leg because I'm slightly terrified).
It all gets very muddled, and there's not clear cut answer, though certain people on either side will tell you there is, and it usually involves some variation of kicking "those f*****s the hell out."
It made the Derry march interesting. While it obviously was about commemorating Bloody Sunday, in which 13 innocent civilians were gunned down by British paratroopers during a peaceful civil rights march, it was also about Civil Rights - something that, one would think, all people would support.
written by
ebienelson
on February 2, 2009
from
Derry
,
United Kingdom
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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I Should've Packed Hair Products
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
This morning I had a job interview with Deloitte in Belfast to be a Technology Integration Consultant. Long boring story short, the guy figured out quite quickly that I hadn't a clue what I was talking about. I don't think they'll call me back.
After the much bullshit-ed through interview, Tomás and I had lunch and went shopping, because I needed hair stuff (yes, I know, I've never felt so high maintenance in my life as I did this afternoon). I remember when I was packing to come here, someone (ahem, Mom, ahem) who said "Don't bother packing hair stuff like shampoo and product, you can probably buy much cooler stuff there." Well, no, Mom, not only is their selection smaller and exceedingly focused on hair 'putty' that I can only imagine makes one's hair look crustily emo-esque and greasy, but it's much more expensive. At home, I use Tresemmé volume spray (about $3), Sunsilk Smoothing Serum (about $3) and Suave hairspray (about $2). Good lord. First of all, here it's not Tresemmé volume spray, it's volume gel-spray putty nasty junky stuff, and it's more than 3 pounds, which is about $5. So, for all the things I want, plus the hairdryer and straightener, it was nearly $60. I guess I have to choose between eating and looking good.
Other than that, I'm lovely. It's chilly and rainy (shocking, I know) but I'm quite happy to be here. I took a black taxi into town this morning (p.s. I love how everyone here says 'town' to indicate going into the city centre, much like when people in England referred to London as 'town' no matter where they were or in New York, 'the city'). It's a really cool system because it's almost like a bus, only much faster and smaller. You wait at the side of the road, and when a black taxi with a white plate comes by you stick out your hand. If they have room they stop, you get in, they take you to Castle Street in the city centre and it's only 1 pound 30. Quite lovely and nicer than a bus. Made me feel very Belfast-y.
So. I don't have to get up tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Pretty excited about that since I'm quite tired, though not quite as jet-lagged as I expected. Not sure when the next time I can post is, since we don't have internet at the apartment yet and I don't start work til Monday. Patience!
written by
ebienelson
on January 21, 2009
from
Belfast
,
United Kingdom
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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Going...Going... Gone.
Thiensville
,
United States
My alarm went off at 8:30 this morning. I always confuse my alarm with my text messages, as they have the same tone (not on purpose; my phone is a piece of a crap and I can do nothing about this). So I rolled over, thinking "who did I forget to say good-bye too that is freaking out so bad they have to text me at 8am?!"
Days like this, leaving on a big adventure, people often (ok, always and constantly) ask if you're excited. Well, of course I'm excited, but do you know what kind of day I'm in for today? One and a half hours driving to O'Hare, another hour waiting for my flight, two hour flight to Newark, three hour layover in Newark, six hour flight (overnight) to
Belfast
. It can be a little exhausting to be excited that whole time!
But of course, I am, and nervous, and scared, and apprehesive, and curious, and ready. I could probably find a reason to say that I feel almost every human emotion there is right now, except perhaps anger. But, give me time.
To all of you I haven't spoken to or couldn't quite connect with in time (Lexi, I'm sorry! Worst game of phone tag EVER!), know that I am thinking of you. Each of you are part of who I am, so you'll never be far away. For those of you who wish you could come with me, I hope you read this blog and see my pictures and are happy, and know that it's never too late to begin your own adventure.
Lots and lots of love and nervous hugs,
Liz(zy)
written by
ebienelson
on January 19, 2009
from
Thiensville
,
United States
from the travel blog:
"She is the Belle of Belfast City..."
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