My trip to Ireland: part 4

Ireland is so much; rolling, green hills, living history, friendly people, rain and sunshine mixed together like it was the most natural thing in the world, lambs that's smiling at you, fiery spirits who would never accept to be bound by others, good beer/ale/stouts and an atmosphere that fills your soul, colour your blood green and makes your heart beat a jig or even a reel. It affects you in so many ways that describing all of them here would make you sleepy and irritated with me as an author. But I want to tell you about a day in what a friend called "the second largest city in the Republic of Ireland"; Belfast.
First of all, let's make some things clear:
a) Belfast lies in Northern Ireland (surprise surprise!)
b) whatever any paramilitary group may believe: North and South may never be united again. So please just accept the fact and stop acting like spoiled kids! If it would be, it would be rejoined through peaceful means and not by bullets and bombs. It would come about through the voice of the people, through a vote by the majority (thanks Steven for pointing this out to me)

It was a fine day when me and Steven were going to this city that has a rather dark and dreary reputation, and I guess right when I thought that this would be the day for breaking some rather nasty prejudices and misunderstandings about this town and its people. Like Derry, this city has seen it all: peace and war, blood and unfair deaths. But is also a town that flourish, filled with history, people that will make a huge difference both for the city and its people. Your city defines you is common knowledge all over the world, and this saying really applies to Belfast. They're are apparently struggling between being English and Irish, and this mixture of identities give this city a very special "flavour"

Well, we started out at perhaps the most pompous building in the whole town: the City Hall. As you can see, this building is reeking with power (...and perhaps a little madness). Pillars everywhere you look, and as with Guildhall in Derry, this building is somewhat scary and intimidating. Oh, and now is the time to say something nice... *concentrating really hard* nice architecture...

Let's get on with the story. We were supposed to meet my teacher in Irish history from the University of Bergen; Sissel Rosland, who "accidentally" was in Belfast at this time. I owe her so much and she's been a true inspiration for me in my search for my academic niche. In the middle of our "behave-like-tourists-moment" she appeared and we made our way over the street to the Linen Hall library for a cup of coffee and a chat. The coffee was needed, especially for Steven who had almost fallen asleep several times on the bus. I think that double espresso did the trick ^^

Could I agree more?

At Linen Hall library we found a small exhibition on propaganda-posters from the Troubles and onward. Many of them were proper artworks while other spoke more clearly; either through pictures or words. This one caught my attention because it is very basic, but still speaks an important message. I'm not in the mood of discussing the legitimacy of the Stormont government, but I can understand those who question them...

They are truly deadly...

When I saw this poster the first time I couldn't really understand it, but when Steven and me were up in Shankill and Falls road (don't worry, I will come back to it) our taxidriver told us why these bullets were so fatal. If you shoot at the ground, the bullets will ricochet upwards against whoever is in front of the shooter. It has gained speed and is also spinning. When this hits you between the eyes, you don't stand a chance. RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary) and the soldiers knew this....

Ulster's biggest fear is Sinn Fein...

The unionists keep tapping on the old fact that 'yes, Sinn Fein HAD connection to IRA', and many people still see it. But is it there? By creating an enemy that everyone can agree on that they hate, the people stand stronger together. "Us and them"; it has worked for centuries, so why should the Unionist dismiss a tactic like this? 

Well, I will try to keep the rest of this post in a more neutral mode, but believe me it will be hard....

After Linen Hall we decided to pop by the tourist-office before finding somewhere to eat, because all of us had a stomach that was singing at this moment... and guess where we ended up? The Bishop for some fish and chips. Well, all of us forgot about the fish anyway :p We had limited time, so a plan was essential for the rest of the day. And we agreed with Sissel that we would meet her for a pint before we headed home.

Two not so hungry travellers

After a little snack, we hit the road again, and now we headed for another important building in the other end of the city. The sun was shining from a sky that contained fewer clouds every time we lifted our gaze to check it out, and I would bet that the temperature was rising against 25 at least. After a long walk we arrived at our goal; The Queens University

Here was another example of red bricks, made into an amazing building. I got the "this is English"-feeling immediately; a university for those truly worthy, a university so far from what we got back home that I almost felt ashamed. I think buildings like this make me think of Tolkien and his life. Did you know that his close friend Clive Staples Lewis; the author of the books about Narnia, was from Belfast? Well, he was, but the fact that Lewis was a devoted protestant and Tolkien a devoted catholic made their friendship hard and sometime even impossible. Not because what other people might think, but because their ideas about many important subjects were so different and they just couldn't compromise.

I could almost imagine Tolkien coming around the corner, smoking his pipe and discussing some part of Beowulf to himself.

*the story is coming out of control now...please excuse me...we will soon continue on the original story*

After the university we rushed off against the Museum of Ulster, and the Botanical Garden. Here we split up, because Steven wasn't very interested in the museum and he rather wanted to wander around in the garden. I had heard that the history-exhibition together with the natural history-exhibition was really something special, and I wasn't disappointed. This museum had it all; art, animals and history. I didn't care so much for the art-selection, so I went straight to the animals.

Beware of this little fellow...

What maybe impressed me the most was the bird-collection. I've always been a fan of birds and then particularly birds of prey. There something about these creatures that fascinates me immensely. It's like they are some kind of royalty of the bird-kingdom...

And at this museum I saw more birds than I have ever seen in a museum earlier. They had a display case where they showed how to stuff a bird, they had birds from every corner of the earth and most of them were given to the museum by private collectors.

But the museum isn't just feathered creatures. It also contains almost anything your mind can imagine would live on the planet Tellus; in the air, dirt and water. This enormous clam amazed me because of its simple beauty. Why do it so advanced, when the most basic structures can be the most beautiful? Have you ever seen crystals in the nature? They are based on some of natures most basic structures...

 For a free and independent Ireland!

The history-part of this museum has been given praise for its neutral presentation of the Troubles and the history of Ulster. And it was truly amazing. Here one could find Black and Tans-uniforms, pictures of the leaders for several of the rebellions that sprung up around Ireland; and the one that is perhaps closest intertwined with the history of Ulster is the 1798-rebellion. This year wasn't coloured by one, but four rebellions throughout the country, and one of them started in Antrim. I remember a song that is now close to my heart which deals with one of the leaders of this rising; Henry Joy McCracken

In Belfast Town they built a tree, and the Redcoats mustered there
I watched them come at the beat of the drum, rolled out from the barrack square
He kissed his sister and went aloft, he bade a last good-bye
"My God, he died," sure I turned and cried, "They have murdered Henry Joy!"

Henry Joy McCracken (1767-1798)

I fell a tear standing in front of this portrait, because one more (and definitely not for the last) time has history caught up with me, and I realize how much history mean to me.

I don't think I've strolled through a museum so fast before and still got a very good impression from it. I met up with Steven outside, and now we rushed back to the centre with one mutual thought: Shankill & Falls

We just had to find the black taxis first...after some calling and intense search we found the taxidriver Steven had talked to earlier. We told him that we were in a rush, but still wanted to see both Shankill and Falls Road; the place where the hell called the Troubles started.

One very fascinating trait i discovered about our taxi-driver was his accent, and the way he spoke (well that's two thing...please excuse me...): you had to pay close attention to what he had to say, because every bit of information we got from him, was thrown at us at such speed that I felt dizzy when the whole thing was over. i don't know how Steven felt the ever-ongoing-speech, but I guess he caught more than me ^^

Anyway, the taxi-driver was AMAZING. He knew so much, and he could have kept on going until the apocalypse would have shut him up.

This was the first mural we got to in Shankill, and it portrays William of Orange, and the year is the Battle of  the Boyne where James II's arse got kicked. This is the reason why the loyalists/orangeorders are marching on the 12th July (even if the battle wasn't the 12th at all, but 1st...but it was the Julian calendar style, so 1st is 12th...)

This is a fairly modern mural, and it doesn't speak the language of the traditional mural. It's a mural of hope; a hope that kids in this area could play outside without being terrified of bombs and paramilitary forces taking out people from "the other side". It's a child's right; to be able to play safely.

The Belfast Mona Lisa

This is more a traditional mural as some see it; with glorification of the fallen and all he dragged with him in death. There has been a discussion lately about painting over pictures like this, because they're a glorification of violence and sectarian ideas. Some have been modified, while some have been made into something new. Some are almost protected, and I don't think anyone will tamper with this one...

This mural lies in the Loyalist area (Shankill), so at the first glance it can seem strange that it portrays the H-block in the Maze-prison where the hunger-strike led by Bobby Sands took place in 1981. But if you look closely you can see "Freedom 2000" written on it. This was a part of the Good Friday agreement from 1998; a group of loyalist prisoners in the H-block would be let free. To see a place like this brings back memories from the weeks before my exam in Irish history; I was reading almost 24/7 and sucked it all in. Does it wonder you that I cursed and cried on the behalf of men and women, even children, robbed for a future by a minority that thought fighting would solve it all?

The Peacewall

This wall is placed between Shankill and Falls road to keep them apart; Catholics away from protestants, loyalists from republicans, normal people from normal people... A wall doesn't have to consist of bricks and clay; it can be made by word and actions; by superstition and prejudice. And sometimes must walls of bricks and clay be built on the same ground as the walls made by lies, hate and prejudice, to keep the peace between the fighters. How long must it stay there? Until someone finally sees the madness in it all, and tell someone. This person will convince another person of the folly of the wall; was it meant to keep the others out or us inside?

It was very special to see all these places that i had only heard about, places that once were so far away that I could barely believe they existed.

Our taxi-driver told us something about all the murals we saw and the neighbourhoods we passed through.

Close to Bombay Street, were the first victim of the Troubles fell, we stopped at a memorial park. This was a memorial for all the civilians that got killed on both sides of the conflict. Here the tags 'catholic' and 'protestant' didn't mean anything no more, this was a place for the HUMAN.

To the fallen

There are many murals and stories I've chosen not to include in this post, but I have my reasons: I want to write something solely on murals in Belfast later, so you just have to stay tuned. But one more mural for today:  The Bobby Sands-mural. This is the most photographed mural, and I don't think that's even strikes me as odd. Just look at it! He dared to show resistance in a way that brought even Margaret Thatcher, the Iron Lady, down. He never lived to see the fruits of his fight, but as he so prophetic said:

Our revenge will be the laughter of our children

Maybe when you know the story of the hungerstrikers in 1981 you will understand more. Understand that lay beyond your horizon. I can finally understand why you would find murals portraying Margaret Thatcher with the text WANTED FOR MURDER AND TORTURE OF IRISH PRISONERS beneath.

Does it surprise you that when I write this, I'm wearing a T-shirt with this logo on it:

So yes, I learned more than I could have ever imagined when I was in Belfast, and I dare say: I will return, because this place isn't done with me yet. I want to learn more, feel the soul of the place and see it in another light than I've done for so many years

Flag against the fence; trapped freedom...