Drielandenpunt - Dreiländereck - Trois Frontières

Last week I returned back to Belfast after a whirlwind roadtrip adventure with my friends and former colleagues, Elodie and Lisanne. During our trip, while passing from the Netherlands to Belgium to Germany to Luxembourg in one day, we stopped at Vaalersberg, a small mountain in a forested park, home to the famous Three Countries Point. 

The photo above is of the borders between Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. 

Our visit to this tourist attraction was hilarious. We parked (somewhat illegally) in a parking lot we believed to be just beside a small memorial plaque to the borders. What we found was that when the German hiking family joked with us about it being an hour away, it was a very subtle joke, as it took us nearly an hour to reach the main attraction, which we had very little awareness of. 

Of course we didn't think to bring money to ride to elevator to the top of a look out (because who knew that was there) and of course I fell down on our walk back to the car because I was woefully unprepared for any type of forest trails... 

The experience itself, standing across three countries, is somewhat hard to describe. Because it didn't actually feel like anything. The small children laughing playfully as they jumped from one country to the next were precious, but for me the experience presented a difficult reality to wrap my mind around. 

Again I'm left pondering borders - abstract and exact; metaphorical and literal; imagined and physical. Amidst the ruins of battlefields where so many have fought and died lives this stone in the ground as evidence that the boundaries that divide (and connect) us all, are only as meaningful as we make them. 

Lithuanian Passion - The Hill of Crosses

A few weeks ago Alan and I visited the Baltics for a few days for my birthday. Although we loved the food exploration through Riga's Central Market; feasting like Medieval kings in a 12^th century alehouse lit by the glow of candlelight; and experiencing the very serious and dry nature of the people we met – the highlight of the trip was definitely our visit to the Hill of Crosses.

We had a private guided tour with our Riga born guide and our Russian speaking driver. We took in the Soviet architecture and the old Russian Orthodox Churches past the mini-hockey-uniform and the Orthodox rosary, both hanging for our protection, from the rear view mirror. We sped past the unmanned border house and moved onto the smoother roads of Lithuania. Houses were painted yellow, green and red like the Lithuanian flag – and farms were left unattended in the late winter weather. What we found when we got there was something like what my friend, Raisa, describes as a "spiritual high." To me, it was a feeling of complete connectedness to my surroundings, and particularly to my fellow people. 

When we reached the Hill of Crosses, we entered the sacred pilgrimage site that has long witnessed unrelenting faith. Thousands of large crosses, many constructed in a detailed wooden style local to the region, and several hundreds of thousands of relics and smaller crosses adorn the small mound. 

The exact origins are not entirely clear, however, the narrative shared with us relates to the lost lives of local Lithuanians during the 1831 rebellion against the Russian rulers of the time. When many bodies disappeared during the warring, local families brought crosses to the site to honor their loved ones. Overtime, the site continued to symbolize resistance and religion for the people of the area. Most notably, during the Soviet times (1944-1990), the hill was bulldozed several times, wooden crosses burned and metal crosses recycled into railway tracks. Every time, new crosses were brought back to the site and gradually it was rebuilt.

People could not be stopped from expressing their faith. 

We heard stories of young newlyweds visiting the site on their wedding day with all of their guests to hang a cross in the hopes of a long and happy marriage. 

We saw the additions made to the space in preparation for the visit of Pope John Paul II who made pilgrimage there in 1993, as a tribute to the strength of the Catholic faith, visibly preserved in that sacred space. 

Finally, we hung our own crosses for our own hopes and prayers, knowing that a place that holds so many well wishes and has the power to provide solace to those in times of need, was a place of great respect. 

This Lenten season I have been particularly reflective on issues of forgiveness and spirituality. It was a privilege to have shared the experience of the Hill of Crosses with so many others who have gone there to pray, dream, hope, and resist. It as an inspiring place to reflect, a place with special significance - not only for its unique folk art status - but also for its ability to connect us to others. As I looked around at each cross and statue, I thought of the person who left that there and imagined what they may have wished for. There were some public statues, including one with a Star of David to symbolise an apology made by the Germans for the Holocaust. Some paid tribute to lost lives. Mothers. Love. Others had no clear meaning, but surely bore witness to many instances of mourning and celebration both. 

One thing that gets me through in my life is the Lakota saying, Mitakuye Oyasin, We are all Related. Standing in places like the Hill of Crosses, it's easy to believe that we are all related. All with experience of struggle and hopes for joy. Each cross reminded me of that. 

It was an honor to make this visit for myself, particularly as I transitioned to the next year of my life and especially during a holy season for the Catholic faith. Until the next "spiritual high," I will carry the memory of those thousands of crosses and hope that all those who have visited have received an answer to their prayers. 

St Paddys Day in a Divided City

Less than an hour after the parade had cleared, the main event kicked off at Belfast City Hall. 

Flag protestors had gathered, as they still often do on Saturdays and special occasions, although in far smaller numbers than at the start of the protests in December 2012. Ironically they gathered beneath the Union Jack flying high, as St Patrick's Day is one of the 18 designated days when Belfast City Hall raises the flag. 

Opposite the road, and behind two lines of armoured police vehicles, stood a small group of young people wrapped in tri-colours. As both sides of protestors antagonised one another, sang political songs, and on occasion threw items across the barricade; the symbolic division of Belfast was literally colouring two sides of the road. 

In the end the counter protest of young people with tricolours, and without permits, were moved on by the PSNI as young people chanted "F the RUC." Ironically again these young people seemed younger than the Good Friday Agreement and therefore without a living memory of the old police force, the Royal Ulster Constablary.

All in all, many people will have only experienced the positive elements of St Paddy's Day in Belfast, before the public drunkenness of young people and open flag wars ensued. Although in many ways the city's transformation has come a long way, the recent flag wars have brought us one step back in terms of community relations on contentious days. As always, there's more to be done. 

"Finding Peace in a Time of War" - A trip to the D-Day Museum in Southsea

Last month we visited family living in Portsmouth, a beautiful English seaside town with centuries of naval history, the world's oldest dry dock, and a quirky charm. The city itself is diverse - a University town, Royal Navy base, and holiday destination. 

It is also a city of memorials to those who have lost their lives to the sea and war, in service of their country. Alongside the promenade, inside the churches, and throughout the city there are tributes to those lost, those serving and those remembered. Because of the vital role the city and its people (natives and relocaters alike) have played in England's military and maritime history, the memorials act as a reminder of the great sacrifices made. It felt like a sacred place. 

On our first day, we visited the D-Day Museum in Southsea. One particular exhibit focused on local narratives to provide a living history of World War II for the people of Portsmouth. This form of history and storytelling, in addition to preserving memory and raising the voice of people directly affected by war, has great potential to humanize history. One excerpt that struck me was the memory from Sheila Foy, "child in Portsmouth," who shared: 

"When it was a raid above us we used to sing as loud as we could and Mum used to have a little present for the one that could sing the loudest. You had to really shout and sing loud so you couldn't hear the bombs coming over."

I felt profound respect for Sheila's mother, who found a way to bring some kind of peace in that time of war. This, to me, felt like another type of memorial to those who sacrificed and suffered during the war. It added another dimension to the character of the city and the people who did their duty during wartimes. 

In my experience of collecting narratives from the Troubles with the Five Decades Storytelling Project, I have found that this form of everyday heroism existed throughout times of conflict. Stories of mothers and fathers protecting their children and children continuing to play despite the war outside exist across conflicts in different times and places. Ultimately these stories and collections are memorials to the life that continues in the face of so much loss and pain. 

In a world of memorials and tributes to those lost, I find it essential and meaningful to also remember those who fought, in many different ways, to find peace in times of war. Memorials like these can pay respect to the women, like Mrs. Foy, who found a way to elevate music above the sounds of war. 

Thoughts on life in America after Ferguson: MLK Day

MLK Memorial, DC - November 2014

The conversation on race relations in America has been difficult for me to engage with over the past months following #Ferguson. I have felt and continue to feel compelled to join the struggle for improvement in our country, however, institutionalized racism and white privilege have created a barrier even in the way we, white people and people of color, can positively effect change (eg: link to 12 Ways to be a White Ally to Black People by Janee Woods). After a 3 month sabbatical at home, I feel more closely connected to this topic and would like to express some thoughts, albeit they are constantly changing as this wider conversation evolves. 

Since the death of Mike Brown and the following months of protest in #Ferguson and beyond, the United States has seen a re-emergence of conversations around issues of race, poverty, equality and justice. Subsequent cases of police brutality, including the death of Eric Garner, resulted in further demonstration such as the "No Justice, No Tree" protests outside of the Rockefeller lighting of the Christmas tree in New York city in December 2014. 

The impact of increased civic mobility following these events can be seen in the wider conversation taking place across the US and beyond via social media and other outlets, meetings among key stakeholders to propose and plan for change, and broader engagement throughout society. It will take time to see the long-term impacts of these efforts, however, it can already be noted that the hands up Twitter movement and other mobilization taking place across the country have been a great success in raising awareness around serious issues while including people who have often been marginalized into the struggle. 

In the Midterm Elections of November 2014 I worked as an election official in Annapolis, Maryland in a socially diverse electoral district. Anecdotally, a co-worker who as born and bred in a majority African American neighborhood in our district, made note that there were a lot of people missing from his own area who could have come out to vote. When I asked him why he didn't call them to come down, he said it wasn't his responsibility to tell people what to do. I understood his meaning and didn't press the question further. 

When the ballots were counted and Republican representatives won by overwhelming majorities, including in my own traditionally Democratic state of Maryland, people were not surprised. Some people, like myself, were saddened by what this change would mean in the face of the deepening schisms within the country, fighting polarised battles around sensitve topics such as immigration, health care and police reform. 

Immediately we turned our attentions to the low turn out at the polling stations across the country, including the two-thirds of African Americans who did not vote (link to Reflections on the 2014 Midterm Elections by Clarence B. Jones)

and the overwhelming abstention of youth voters, who in some states dropped by 20% from 2010 (link to CIRCLE article on Youth Turn-Out). This low turn-out following increased civic activity across the United States seems difficult to understand at first glance. Why wouldn't people vote if they wanted change? 

Just before leaving my hometown to return to Belfast, I went to see Selma, knowing it was a film made in tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., but very little about the premise. I came to find that although I've studied American History and taken courses exclusively dedicated to African American history, although I grew up in a border state with history of slavery and racial persecution, and although I engage actively and openly with conversations around race and equality, I do not, and possibly cannot understand the "terror of living in the south" as an African American during the times of MLK (link to Most of you have no idea what Martin Luther King actually did by Hamden Rice). 

When I left the film Selma I wondered why it didn't come out sooner, wishing it had been released before the elections to remind many of us in pursuit of change but who did not use our vote of the lives lost in the fight for voting privileges. I left the cinema feeling inspired by the faith and hope people maintained during such trying times, marching alongside MLK and one another and continuing to register to vote while knowing the persecution they could face. I also left feeling helpless after witnessing the suffering so many Americans, particularly Black Americans, have faced in this struggle and the continued challenges that institutionalized racism present in the everyday life of so many. 

Upon further reflection, I understand more clearly why so many people did not vote. There are more nuanced analyses of this issue available, but to me it seems clear. There is no hope that change will come once we vote. People do not feel inspired to work within a system that feels broken. A system that continues to function alongside blatant injustice. A system that is biased. To add insult to injury, instances of racial injustice are occurring alongside the second term of our first Black president, a constant and very real reminder that positive change is a slow and tiring process.

Living in Northern Ireland after the Troubles, a conflict which was also fueled by the Civil Rights movement, I am becoming more familiar with the struggles that took place here to overcome the destruction of hope resulting at the hands of injustice, inequality, institutionalized prejudice, police brutality and community aggression and the subsequent mistrust between the two. Polarized politics have brought government to a standstill, in some cases literally dissolving the institutions built to serve. 

These similarities go to show that the impacts of oppression and injustice will linger long after physical violence is abated. In the words of MLK, "We must concentrate not merely on the negative expulsion of war but the positive affirmation of peace". This includes justice for all. 

Ultimately, we need hope for a better future and a trust in the political process that enforces democratic change. If people felt their representatives could hear and respond to their needs, they would vote. In the last few months, polarized politics, cases of questionable impunity and lack of empathy among us all have caused further deterioration to an already divided system. For the next 4 years, many states will have politicians who do not reflect the will of their constituents, because people have lost faith in the system. 

Continued dialogue and grassroots efforts working for justice and change will be the way forward in the coming years. We all have a role to play, regardless of our class, color or creed. By maintaining and broadening the heightened levels of participation that we've built upon in the past months, we can continue to find effective ways to speak, protest and work together. 

Nationalist Cows

Here in Northern Ireland, citizens are able to identify as British, Irish or both. It's nice to know this right extends also to the animals of Northern Ireland! Now, if only people could choose which beef they'd prefer to eat when visiting McDonald's, rather than it being mixed... #foodforthought

#TaxiTales

Taxi man tells me a wee tale of the time he drove a Roma family down to Newry; nice couple, few kids and the pram. Instead of the fare, he offered this gold ring as payment. "Greed got the better of me," the driver explained in his own defense. Turns out, wasn't worth the hundreds of quid he had thought. "He pulled the wool over my eyes"... 

Racism: The Perpetrator and Hater in us all

I was in a taxi on Friday morning with one of my regular drivers. I was delighted when I saw him because I was having a bad week and I always enjoy his banter. On the way down the road we passed a Romanian man selling magazines on the island and he shouted abuse as we drove by, saying he wished all the Romanian bastards and other immigrants would fuck off. He noticed the look on my face and said something along the lines of no offense, love. I pointed out that I too am an immigrant. But of course he doesn't mean immigrants like me. As he said himself, sure you work here and your partner's from here (what he also means is you're white and your native language is English...). I explained how most immigrants have no recourse to public funds and greatly contribute to Northern Ireland culturally and economically. I explained Northern Ireland is 99% white to which he said, where are they (white people) all? As there was a recent anti-Romanian attack in East Belfast, I expressed that no one should feel unsafe in their homes, regardless of the way people feel about them. To this he agreed wholeheartedly. At the end of the day he said we wouldn't fall out over our difference of opinions. Of course that was true as I genuinely like this man. Before I got out of the car he said softly, one of them called me white trash, do you know how horrible that is to hear?

I could hardly speak because I had too many things I wanted to say and no right to preach at this man. I wanted to say, 'maybe that man spoke to you with such anger because he was hurt by racist abuse against him and his family'. I wanted to say, 'if you know how horrible it feels to be abused in that way, why would you do that to another person'? I wanted to say something about our capacity for empathy in the face of shared experience. But what right do I have to say these things? 

This encounter reminded me that racism is not only hate - it is this entrenched system of imbalance that we all live in and ascribe to in some way. It's too easy, not to mention wrong, for me to point fingers at those who don't regularly engage with diversity, at those who comprise the so-called underclass, at my taxi driver who says something inappropriate. How dare I think he's more part of the problem than me. I have been privileged by my whiteness my whole life. How dare I think I know more because I'm from a country with more diversity than Northern Ireland. The United States is equally, if not more so, perverted by the all-encompassing machine of racism. How dare I think the dialogue around race relations is available to everyone, because it's not. It's by and large for those with access to a certain type of education.  

Yesterday I read a quote from the poetry-slam genius, Scott Woods, who beautifully articulated and educated with his definition of racism:

"The problem is that white people see racism as conscious hate, when racism is bigger than that. Racism is a complex system of social and political levers and pulleys set up generations ago to continue working on the behalf of whites at other people’s expense, whether whites know/like it or not. Racism is an insidious cultural disease. It is so insidious that it doesn’t care if you are a white person who likes black people; it’s still going to find a way to infect how you deal with people who don’t look like you. Yes, racism looks like hate, but hate is just one manifestation. Privilege is another. Access is another. Ignorance is another. Apathy is another. And so on. So while I agree with people who say no one is born racist, it remains a powerful system that we’re immediately born into. It’s like being born into air: you take it in as soon as you breathe. It’s not a cold that you can get over. There is no anti-racist certification class. It’s a set of socioeconomic traps and cultural values that are fired up every time we interact with the world. It is a thing you have to keep scooping out of the boat of your life to keep from drowning in it. I know it’s hard work, but it’s the price you pay for owning everything." 

This message forced me to re-examine my taxi conversation. 

The continued racist attacks in East Belfast, that seem to have be increasing in recent weeks, is a manifestation of this conscious hate Woods is speaking about. It's easy to scapegoat the perpetrators of hate crimes as the main source of the problem, but to do so would be to feed the system of injustice that impacts every element of all of our lives. There is not a small group of hateful, ignorant people who are responsible for racism, but rather it is all of us who do not continuously question what is and work towards what could be.

This small reflection will not enable me to radically shift the way I live, the way I vote, the way I think, or the way I feel as the asymmetric world system is far too powerful a force. However, we can remain vigilant and critical of this imbalance and scoop out the boat as Woods would say. We can discuss racism more deeply to fully understand what it is and spread that across our messages for change. We can be aware that we are all perpetrators of racism in one form or another, and we must all act out against it in all of its dimensions.

House for Sale in East Belfast!

Bony on the Move

On Sunday the 6th of July a group of young people were moving pallets down the Beersbridge Road. I was in a rental car at the time and was wondering why after 500 miles of flawless driving, I had to face the biggest road risk within a mile of home. Fortunately when the tottering stack of wood finally crashed, as we all suspected it would, it went forward landing on the road instead of backwards onto my car. In retrospect this is fairly lucky as I can only imagine how damage from Bony debris on the road factors into Insurance awards.

The following morning the remains of the Bony (tires, rubbish, furniture, ect...) were alight. Apparently there were concerns from the community that the bonfire had been built too near Elmgrove Primary School and so the bonfire was forced to be moved elsewhere. 

Although there was limited press regarding the concerns of this construction towards the end of June, there has not been mention of the subsequent mini-fire burning on the morning of Monday the 7th of July. It would seem that even if the bulk of the materials were moved prior to the 12th, a bonfire still took place on the site, exemplifying both the disregard and impunity at play here.