good from bad

Good often comes from bad – or so they say anyway. Sometimes, however, you have to look really carefully to spot a tiny blossom of positivity in the face of overwhelming devastation. At times like these I find it’s probably best not to mention the positive side of things for fear of attracting incredulous stares of disgust at your gross insensitivity.

For instance – and this is probably a good example of stretching things a little – Northern Ireland can boost some of the best surgeons in the world. We are especially known for our experts in the field of reconstructive surgery – they are in demand throughout the world. It’s something of which we can be justifiably proud.

The price for this success? Thirty years of punishment beatings, kneecappings, bombs, arson attacks, abductions, hijackings, executions and general acts of terrorism. Our surgeons spent so long patching people up after explosions and fires that they became pretty good at it. Something a little bit good came out of something very very bad.

So I’m hoping that something positive can come out of the violence we experienced this weekend – but I want more than just some well practised surgeons in return for the lives of the police and soldiers shot this weekend.

The class I was covering a few minutes ago don’t remember ‘the troubles.’ The last time a policeman was murdered by terrorists here they were crawling around – some of them weren’t even on solid food. They don’t know what it was like back then. But even they know that nothing can be achieved through this kind of violence.
This view is shared by the thousands of people meeting around the country for vigils right now. Politicians, church leaders, all kinds of people sharing a time of silence that will hopefully say more than a thousand speeches.

I’m hoping that somehow the way all sides of the community - unionists, nationalists, protestants, catholics, old, young, rich, poor, blonde, brunette – have united in revulsion and condemnation of these murders… well I’m hoping that it sends out the message that we have no appetite for a return to the violent old days. I’m hoping that support for the ‘real IRA’ and the ‘continuity IRA’ melts away when they see how it flies in face of public opinion.

Wouldn’t it be a beautiful irony if these attacks actually strengthened the peace process they were designed to disrupt? Wouldn’t it be glorious if sectarian violence led to us stamping bigotry out of this troubled little country? If that happened then it would be one positive from a negative of which we could be truly proud.

I'm glad it's not like this all the time

A week or two ago I wrote a post all about watching Derry City play in a chip shop in Ballymena - that's me watching it in a chip shop, not them playing in a chip shop. It was a post of joy and optimism. A post proclaiming love and peace in a country thought of as a recovering war zone. I was uplifted writing it.

Now I am crestfallen.Coming from Northern Ireland it is hard to avoid topics of religion and politics. If you see a film in NI it generally mentions the "situation" Plays set in Ulster tend to have a group of loyalists and a group of republicans playing montagues and capulets, stand up comedy routines tend to have at least one Big Ian reference - they're not funny otherwise. It's hard to avoid these topics, but not impossible. A group of us make short films in this country and I can't remember one reference to "the troubles" - unless you count a prank involving an Irishman in Camp David wearing a balaclava.

I had intended this blog to be sectarian free but thinking back over the past couple of months I can point to at least six posts with something to do with political religion in Northern Ireland. and here I am about to write number seven - I guess I failed.

You see it's like this. Derry were playing the return leg of that football tie in Paris last night. I went back to Ballymena to stand outside that chip shop waving my rangeltic scarf (creating it involved mutilating two separate football scarves to make one but I think it was worth it) If I thought I would witness a similiar show of bon ami I was sadly mistaken. Two drunks paying no attention to the football and a rather angry looking youth who called me jaffa scum because I was wearing a hearts shirt. I left despondent.

A friend of mine lives in a loyalist area of Derry, or should we say Londonderry. Her nephew is the result of a mixed marriage and is being brought up a a Protestant in a Catholic area. She told me today how she had picked him up from Boys' Brigade last night. They had gone to buy stickers in a shop near her house and as they were leaving the shop he looked up at her and said, "It's just as well we went to your shop and not ours. Cause if we went to ours they would have see me in this uniform and known I was Protestant." He's four. So young, so cynical. She said it nearly brought tears to her eyes - it very nearly brought tears to mine.

Things have improved. Things are improving. I just wish they'd hurry up a bit.

the french, the brandywell and some rotten chips

I was in a Ballymena chip shop last night (no surprise there then) watching Derry City playing football against Paris Saint Germain [now, for the uninitiated and for the purposes of this story, it is important that you know that Ballymena is a largely unionist town (Ian Paisley is their MP - nough said) and that Derry City are perceived to be a nationalist football club (they are a northern irish team playing in the southern irish league - nough said)

You could say I was surprised, then, by the level of support Derry were getting from the shaven head, UDA tattooed, rangers shirt wearing locals. There we all were, eyes glued to the screen, all willing our food to take 90 odd minutes to cook, and all, to a man, supporting the men in red and white.

There was even a highly amusing moment when a PSG player barged into Kevin McHugh in the penalty area. As the referee waved away pleas for a spot kick one rather large monobrowed customer gave off "Get to **** you fenian ******! That was a penalty!" It was a moment that, could I get away with it, I would use as an example of irony in my lessons for years to come.

Despite the fact that the match was being played at fortress Brandywell and that PSG fielded a weakened team, the 0-0 result was a fantastic reward for the Candy men and we cheered and hollered and waved our arms in the air as the final whistle was blown. The chips were awful though.