Making headlines today: Police Arrest 11 Men After Slaying in N. Ireland (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/26/AR2009052602995.html?hpid=topnews)While spending time in Northern Ireland, both me and my traveling partner Michelle, were surprised to note just how fractious the area was. In a local Belfast bar, Kelly's Cellars, tensions ran high and it was easy to notice the way surrepticious glances were thrown between friends; how big husky men shifted behind their scrawnier mates. Everyone was waiting for the spark--a sharp word, a drunken push. When a group of IRA "criminals" as they were described, staggered lugubriously into Kelly's--more than just eyebrows were raised. Men quietly put their coats and rucksacks behind the bar and the bartender declared the group "have had enough to drink," while the burly Polish bouncer perched himself near the door.
Nothing much happened that night. There were no fists thrown; no spittle hurled. But you could taste the bitterness in the air. It was exciting until I realized that it wasn't a game. This was a way of life. The unrest in Northern Ireland is referred to as "The Troubles" locally. Whatever peace has come, it has been uneasy.
In Derry (or Londonderry depending on your point of view) at the Bloody Sunday memorial museum, the past comes crashing down on you. Shouts from the protests--replaying on a TV monitor-- fill the room as you read about the 13 victims of the day's events. I will never forget the baby shirt stained a withering yellow behind the glass case. It was used to staunch the flow of blood from the head of one of the Bloody Sunday victims. All 13 victims are named; memorialized; martyred.
When the past is replayed over and over; when hatred is allowed to fester under the guise of remembrance; when history has a stranglehold on the present, well, how can there ever be any real peace? Or must we all languish in a world where the best we can hope for is that there will be no fights when you're out for a pint?
