The Incident of the Orangemen in the District

Northern Ireland has made an incredible amount of progress over the last few years, but they still have a handful of ongoing issues to resolve. One of those issues is parades.

There are long-running social organizations in Northern Ireland, such as the Orange Order and the Ancient order of the Hibernians, whose membership is rooted entirely in either the Protestant or the Catholic community. During Marching Season, which is set to begin fairly soon, some of these organizations participate in parades through their local communities and into large urban centres. The Orangemen are especially known for this.

The marchers insist that these parades are just a celebration and an expression of their cultural heritage. But when the march route takes them through neighborhoods where many or all of the residents belong to the other cultural tradition, it can cause tension. Certain unkind words can get exchanged. Also certain unkind bricks, bottles, and paintballs.

To prevent this sort of secterian trouble, all parades--routes, numbers, decorations, etc-- have to be cleared by the Northern Ireland Parades Commission. One of their cheif tasks is arbitrating disputes between marching organizations and neighborhood associations.

Now, as Northern Ireland gears up for another marching season, marchers and neighborhoods are at the negotiating tables again. A longstanding conflict in Drumcree is about to go to mediation, where there's a chance the various parties can come to an agreement without the Parades Commission having to arbitrate.

Would that we could be so concilatory on this side of the pond. Washington DC's annual FolkLife festival begins today, and Northern Ireland is one of the three focuses of this year's festivities. Dancers, cooks, artisans and historians from all over Ulster have been invited across the pond to share their culture and traditions with the residents and visitors of our nation's capital.

Among the visitors are representetives from the Orange Order, who are going to be running a display. Congressman Eliot Engel of New York objects. He wrote a letter to the Smithsonian (the event's sponsor) asking them to ban the Orangemen because they're 'well known for violently anti-Catholic rhetoric and actions.'

Now, I hold no illusions about the Orangemen. I'm not one of those people who holds them entirely blameless for the problems that have happened during their marches. I know they're not merely victims of big, mean, Brit-hating Nationalists who are trying to oppress their cultural expression. But neither do I believe that they're all loyalist paramilitaries in disguise who are trying to chase the Catholic population out of Ulster.

Banning them from the folklife festival would only help to enforce Irish America's preconceptions about Northern Ireland-- that the nationalists are Always Right and the unionists are Always Wrong, and that the Republic of Ireland has a manifest destiny to control the entire island.

The Smithsonian seems to be ignoring Engel's objection. Good for them. I believe they should give the Orangemen a chance to show DC what they do and why they do it. Let them engage in--gasp!--dialogue. The ocean between America and Northern Ireland has allowed a great many uninformed opinions about the Irish Question to flourish here. The militant/pro-IRA rhetoric faded somewhat in the wake of 9/11, but people so distant from the violence and strife the conflict has bred have no business romanticizing it.

If the point of the Folklife festival is education, then it's absolutely imperetive that the Orangemen, Ulster-Scots, and unionism as a whole be represented. Irish/Nationalist and Gaelic traditions are deeply rooted into Irish American culture. We stand to learn a lot more from those in Northern Ireland whose stories we don't hear than we do from those whose stories we've allowed to inform our biases.

I'm going to go to the celtic music concerts. I'm going to go watch the Gaelic Football display, stop by the Irish Language table, and watch the textiles artist embroider an Irish dance costume. But I also intend to make a point of visiting the Orange Order's display and check out the Rugby demonstration. The Smithsonian Institution is bringing this even to us for free, and I mean to take full advantage of all it has to offer.

On the road again.

I packed this morning, then went into my placement and said goodbye. I'm really sad to be leaving-- the weather's been beautiful, and I well and truly loved my placement. But I'm really looking forward to seeing Derry again. As Bilbo says, the road goes ever ever on. It's time for me to go on with it.

I've got one more quasi-errand to run now, and then it's off to pick up my luggage and get on the bus to L/Derry. I actually managed to fit everything into my backpack and my new bag, with the exception of one pair of shoes and one jumper/sweater; both of which I donated to a hospice shop on my way to my placement. That's a laudable accomplishment, believe me (the packing, not the donating).

The Spanish teacher I've been working with asked me when I'm coming back. "I don't know," I told her, "but hopefully soon. Maybe gradschool." It seems my gradschool search is expanding unbidden beyond the confines of Canada and the lower 48. I can't bring myself to say goodbye to this place, though. I cannot imagine not returning.

End of Term

Well, today ended my academic obligations for the semester. Everything's turned in, all classes are done with, and my last mandatory day at placement is over. I'll be going back tomorrow anyway, but I don't technically have to be there tomorrow-- I'm just going because it's awesome.

I'll be spending the next week enjoying my time here as much as possible-- chances are I'll be traveling somewhere cool next weekend just for the giggles of it-- before my return to the states.

I doubt this will be my last post about it though. I kinda want to do some kind of nifty wrap-up of the experience (as if that's even possible). I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog after I get home. I might integrate all of the posts into my lj archives and then just let this go defunct, but who knows? Maybe I'll find a use for it.

Last class- meeting the UUP

So today we met a representetive from the Ulster Unionist Party. We were supposed to meet a Sinner (that's totally not how it's spelled, is it? I'm going to leave it that way anyway) too, but he chickened out or something and didn't show.

It was good to meet the UUP guy, though. The UUP foams at the mouth a lot less than the DUP does-- about several things, but mostly about Sinn Fein. Their approach to unionism, as today's speaker put it, is unionism with a small u-- they believe that remaining a part of the UK is the best thing for all of Northern Ireland, including its Catholic population. Unlike the DUP, they don't give the impression that they're still fighting for dominance. They know they've got a diverse population, and they want to represent the interests of all of it.

But today was our very last class-- my very last time seeing our programme director until next September. I'm leaving in less than two weeks. I wish I wasn't still up to my ears in paper rewriting (this is me on break right now) so that I could actually focus a bit on the time I have left.

Papers and placement

So I'm posting from the informal education centre*, and placement is still going well. I spend my mornings helping out in the foreign language wing, preparing students for their GCSEs-- a series of tests they take at sixteen to determine their levels in a veriety of subjects. For thos familiar with Harry Potter, GCSEs are the real-world version of OWLS. Students with good scores in enough subjects generally stay on and do A-levels, and then go to uni from there.

I come down here to the IEC* for lunch, and then generally spend the rest of my day down here, making worksheets, running errands, and sitting in with small group sessions. They're kind enough to let me at the computer during my lunch break, which has been very helpful this past week because I've been running about like mad trying to get my schoolwork finished.

My deadline is tomorrow, and I've got all but two things in-- a self-critique and a 2,000 word paper. I expect it's going to be a long night, but everything should get done (don't try this at home, kids! Annalee is a trained paper-writing ninja who can pull all-nighters on a single litre of coke).

So yes, that's life here. The programme ends next Wednesday, and I fly home the following Monday. I'm not sure how I'll be spending my between-time yet, but if I stay in Belfast, I might do a few extra days at my placement. No really, it's that awesome.

*In case anyone's wondering: not it's real name. I'm avoiding identifying details about the school.

A Long Goodbye

This last weekend was our last visit to the Corrymeela Reconciliation centre. I don't know if I'll ever again lay eyes on the Rathlin Island lighthouses, or stand on that cliffside Corrymeela path overlooking Ballycastle's lights, but I would surely like to. I would like to see that star-filled sky again, and hear the odd accoustics of the Croi during worship. I'll miss that place.

Two weeks from now, I'll be back in the states. Back in Washington, DC. The city whose equal I never imagined finding until I set foot in Belfast for the first time. The city that I love. Home, if it still is that.

A cab driver told me I'm 'practically a local' the other day. I practically feel like one. I'm excited to be seeing my family again. I'm looking forward to getting together with friends, being around geeks, meeting the new addition to the household, and visiting my brother's new apartment. But I have no real desire to leave Northern Ireland. I feel the way that I feel at the end of the summer, when I have to leave home for Earlham. Like I'm going towards people that I love, but away from the places that are home to me.

Our last weekend in Ballycastle, now my last week at placement, then my last few days here, and then my last trek through the Belfast City Airport... these next two weeks are going to be a series of lasts, finals, and goodbyes. One long goodbye.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog when I go back. But then, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself, either.

Carrick-a-Rede, Dunluce Castle, and assorted other shinies

Well, another lovely weekend here at the Corrymeela centre in Ballycastle-- I'm going to miss this place. Today, we headed off along the beautiful Antrim coast.

Our first stop was Carrick-a-Rede, a tiny island accessible only by rope bridge. The bridge itslef is much shorter, safer, and lower down than most of the guidebooks suggest-- as I understand it, it used to be far more impressive (or harrowing, depending on how you look at it) before it was rebuilt with safety in mind. But there are views from the island that you simply wouldn't believe. Pictures don't really do them justice, but I took several, so watch this space.

After that, we stopped for lunch and then headed on to Dunluce Castle, which is a remarkably well-preserved ruin when you consider that parts of it date back to the thirteenth century. It, too, is set on an island, but this one's acessible via a nice, sturdy stone bridge. During the Jacobian era, the MacDonald family built a manor house into the sight and extended the buildings onto the mainland to make more room for their many visitors from the Scottish court.

The whole thing's in ruins now, but you can tell how impressive it must have been in its seventeenth century heyday. A cavern running underneath part of it opens right up onto the sea. Another tonne of photos from there should be available soon.

On our way to Dunluce, we stopped at a tiny church that's supposed to be one of the oldest and smallest in Ireland (that claim is quite disputed; some will tell you it's actually less than thirty years old). It's tucked away in a tiny village under a cliff by the sea. After we left Dunluce, our busdriver took us down a lane lined with trees more than four hundred years old. It's been a day for the pretty.

Tonight, we're going out to a nice restaurant as a group. Because our programme director's just cool that way.

In which Annalee's Placement is Awesome ¦ A Visit to Stormont ¦ What Transpired There

Well, I've got a few minutes' downtime here at Corrymeela, so I'm going to attempt a real update.

My placement continues to be fabulous and inspiring. I'm getting to know the students both in my Spanish class and at the informal education centre, and enjoying the experience immensely. On Thursday, I sat in with a group in the IEC that was learning about the International Conventions on the Rights of the Child. They went over the different rights, catagorized them, and discussed their importance, then did an activity to illustrate a few of them. They also learned a few things about how the rights apply to them specifically-- one girl discovered that her employer's been denying her legally-mandated breaks.

Yesterday, the Earlham group visited Stormont-- the Northern Irish Parliament building-- and met with a representetive from the Democratic Unionist Party. He was a pretty nice guy to talk to, but it rather goes without saying that I'm not terribly fond of the DUP's politics. He did point out, though, that the various parties' positions on most issues are remarkably similar. The national question is one of the only issues over which they differ substantially (Sinn Fein aside, as they're a Marxist party).

The building itself was absolutely gorgeous. I got a few pictures, but fewer than I would have liked. The landscaping was lovely as well.

Today: adventures on the Antrim Coast. Details upon return.

oh noes.

Ok, I owe you guys one heck of a post about my placement and all the awesome things I'm doing there.

Unfortunately, I got buried under an unexpected pile of urgent work last night, and it will take me several days to climb out from under it.

So: I'm away at a residential this weekend. I'll probably be working a lot while I'm there. Hopefully by the time I'm back, I'll have time to write a real post. I should also have some pictures (we're going to Stormont today, and meeting the DUP).

Enjoy your weekends, everyone.

The Golden Thread and meeting Alban Maginness

There was an opening at the Golden Thread Gallery on Friday evening. I stopped by for a little while--most of my groupmates were there-- and then headed over to the afterparty at the Black Box.

The art itself wasn't really to my taste-- I don't go in for modern abstract stuff. Some of it was cool, but a lot of it was your standard pretentious 'emperor's new clothes' modern art-- but it was nice to see everyone. All I can say about the afterparty is I'm glad I didn't pay to get in. The band was a group of highschool kids-- four guitars and a drum set. One of their moms works at the gallery, which is how they landed the gig. I'll refrain from reviewing their performance, because I would be mortified if my youthful indescretions appeared on a perfect stranger's blog, but between their overactive amps and the smoke, it wasn't my idea of a fantastic time.

Earlier on Friday, we sat down with Alban Maginness of the SDLP (Social Democratic and Labour Party), a former Lord Mayor of Belfast (the first nationalist Lord Mayor). He's part of the new Northern Irish Assembly as well. He talked to us for a bit about politics in Northern Ireland, and gave his views about the Troubles, the Belfast Agreement, and the new assembly.

He said something about the national question that I found particularly interesting: that the re-introduction of the national question during the seventies was counterproductive, because it took the focus away from civil rights. My impression of the SDLP is that nationalism has always been a pretty secondary issue to them; taken up because every party's 'got to play either the green card or the orange card,' as one woman in L/Derry put it (though there are and have been parties, such as the Alliance Party and the Women's Coalition, who play neither). Hearing a prominent SDLP man refer to the national question as 'counterproductive' in the same breath he used to condem the violence for the same reason reaffirms that analysis.

In praise of green-grocers

One of the things I'm really going to miss about Belfast when I go home is the quality of the corner grocery stores.

Back home, corner stores are a good place to procure candy bars, junk food, and smoothies. Produce, if they have any, will be grody, and the milk products will be of quality so dubious that no sane person would consume them, let alone pay for the privilage.

But here? I do the majority of my shopping at the green-grocery between my house and the bus stop. It's smaller than your average seven-eleven, but it stocks its shelves with awesome. Fresh bread, quality produce, inexpensive but perfectly fresh milk, and bulk candy. You can even get spices and pasta sauces there.

It was closed for Easter, and let me tell you, I nearly starved. Sure, I could have gone to the Marks&Spencer by city hall (though not the Tesco; it was closed), or the Costa up near Queens, but they weren't my local greengrocer, man. So I was thrilled to see it back open at last today.

(It bears noting that even the Costa does better than seven eleven in the 'carrying real food' department. The milk there isn't a biohazard, for starters).

On Vacation

Well, school's out and so am I.

When I go back, I'll be splitting my time between the informal education centre and the Spanish classroom. The Spanish teacher and class both seem pretty cool, so hopefully I'll enjoy it. The day I spent in her class I ended up feeling useful, which is nice.

Yesterday was Easter. The boys, Iona, and I got together at their house for Easter dinner, and had a lovely time.

Other than that, there's not much to report. I really adore Belfast.

Placement, day two

This is my second day at my placement in Belfast (my sole source of internet for the moment), and I have to say, I really like it here. I'm spending most of my time in the 'informal education centre,' which is the part of the school where they engage students who are having difficulties (either academic or behavioural) with the normal school environment. Here, they can do their work on sofas instead of behind desks, and talk to their instructor on a one-on-one basis. In place of exams, students fill up portfolios with a veriety of group or solo projects in community involvement, leadership, and creative expression.

The atmosphere here reminds me in a vague way of the drama room at my middle school. The kids feel like they can talk to the staff, and while they're still called on all the things that matter (namecalling, bullying, etc), no one treats them like a miscreant for busting out a soda while they're working. And it seems to do a lot of good. When the kids come in here, they live up to the standards the staff know know they can reach: they behave themselves just fine and get their work done without complaint. Even the kids who are apparantly on the wrong side of a writeup on a fairly frequent basis treat the youth worker here with respect, because they know they're going to get the same from her. It's very exciting to observe.

I've also found the school itself quite impressive. Most times, people say that the families who send kids to integrated schools 'aren't really the problem,' because they specifically want that kind of environment for their children. But the school I'm at has a lot of working-class students from the local community. They're here because it's nearby, or because the education's better than they could get elsewhere. Especially here in the informal education centre, where students form friendships within their small working groups with people who are very different than they are. These 'problem children,' supposedly at the highest risk for sectarian problems, are the ones who seem most conscious of (and greatful for) the diversity around them.

I should go grab some lunch, or I'll keep right on about this for pages. I hope all's well for everyone in the states.

Goodbyes and Hellos

It was raining the day we moved to the Walled City. Our bus pulled into a gated drive in front of a huge, Gothic building, and through the tinted windows I could see a carpark at the bottom of a hill. We were called off the bus in pairs as our host families arrived. I stared out the window as the others got up and left.

We had already been on a walking tour of the walls, but I'd never seen that part of the city before. Magee Campus. My campus. What was it like? Would I be happy there? Would my host mom be nice? I stared out the window as the others got up and left, trying to get some sense of this foreign place that was suddenly home.

I remember getting lost, our second day, when we tried to walk into town. We took a wrong turn and ended up in Rosemount. Rosemount, where I'd later go for tin whistle class: up the hill and then thread between the townhouses; mind the puddles on the footpath; don't let the alleys spook you.

In my memory, I can see the carpark on the hill the way it appears at night, when I'm walking back from the computer lab in the wee hours of the morning. I can see the bridge lights above the River Foyle, and the yellow glow against the pale stones of the gothic architecture. That first look, through tinted bus windows to a grey afternoon, is a blur.

It was sunny when we got to the bus this morning. Our host mother drove my roommate and I down Northland Road to campus-- the same route I walk every day. She hugged us goodbye after we loaded our luggage. Around us everyone was chattering about their vacations. And then we were on the bus and on our way. The last drive out of Derry was swallowed up with more vacation chatter. Mark showed me his bike route through Scotland. I talked about the armoury in Leeds.

Two hours later, we were driving into Belfast. We passed under the overpass with the wierd murals of silhouettes on geometric shapes, but it was already familiar to me from visits and travel. Nothing terribly foreign about a city centre I've already explored. I'm already at home here.

It was sunny when we unloaded our luggage and stacked it up in the Corrymeela House foyer. They gave us tea and biscuits while our host families arrived. And then I was off again. My host mother and I discussed CSI and bus passes as we drove along the road that will be my new daily commute. She settled me into the house--lovely, large, and quiet-- and headed off to work.

Hi there, Belfast. Here I am.

oh good grief...

Just a brief comment about Bill Clinton, in reaction to some of my reading for this paper:

Say what you will about the man, but his interest in the Northern Irish peace process did not cause 9/11. No really, it didn't. Granting a temporary visa to Gerry Adams did not cause 9/11; nor was it the same thing as granting Tim McVeigh a visa to England to meet with the PM (as Margaret Thatcher suggested). It did not 'distract' him from dealing with terrorism elsewhere.

I mean good heavens. Has U.S. American partisanship really gotten so bad that we can't even give a guy props for putting forward his best effort in the name of peace? Next, we'll be hearing about how Hurricane Katrina (not just the aftermath, mind you- no, the hurricane itself) was World Health Organization's fault because they were 'distracted' by the Millennium Development Goals.

In other news: the Northern Ireland Assembly is going through as planned, with the DUP and Sinn Fein behind the wheel. I'm holding Northern Ireland in the light with hopes for continued progress and lasting peace.

Spring Break

Well, I'm off to England for a few days for spring break. My backpack contains roughly 25% clothing and essentials and 75% books for those papers I'm supposed to be writing. I have no doubt that things will get done, but I wish I didn't have to get them done during 'break.'

Anyway. I'll probably have internet access in Leeds. With any luck, I'll also have interesting things to post about. I hope all's going well with everyone back in the states.

Paper Writing and errata

I just finished up a paper on Johan Galtung's definitions of peace. I'd post it here for sharing purposes, but it's 2,300 words long and I think the eljay subscribers might kill me in my sleep. So, on the off chance than anyone actually wants to read 2,300 words of me babbling about peace research and peace as more than the absence of violence, email me and I'll send it to you.

In other news, the weather's taken a turn for the nice these past few days. This has raised my spirits considerably. I'm really going to miss L/Derry when we relocate, but I'm also really looking forward to Belfast, so life is good in general. And Thornton's (a chocolate shop) is going to be the death of me. The yummy, yummy death of me (they're selling ice cream now. How is that ok!?).

It turns out that Ireland Yearly Meeting is being held in a few weeks in Lisburne, so hopefully I'll be able to go and hang out with Irish Quakers. That would be really awesome, and I'm very much looking forward to it.

Best Thing Ever.

Oh Captain Planet... I used to watch that show when I was little. I even knew the song. Man, I was so cool.

And look, here he is saving Belfast:


Best. Thing. Ever. This is just clips from the episode, but I watched the extended version just now, and let me tell you: it doesn't make any more sense than this does. Well, it sort of explains where the paramilitaries got a nuke, but besides that, the level of crack is pretty much the same.

For those of you who subscribe to this via lj, my apologies for the crosspost. It was just too funny not to share.

Back from Dublin, where the Quakers are awesome

So I'm back from Dublin.

I went to Friends' Meeting there yesterday, which was fabulous. There was a query about service and whether we devote enough time to God's work, and most of the messages seemed to relate to that.

I ended up standing to speak about something I heard at the World Gathering. An evangelical Friend was telling me about all the service projects that their church runs, because, they said, the best way to make it clear to others that there are Christians in their community is to act like Christians instead of just talking about it. It was a concept that really resonated with me.

Do I devote enough time to service, though? Not so much, really. I need to do more of that. It's no good to be the sort of 'Christian' who just blogs about their struggle to be more Christian. Blogging is not doing (rather like talking is not writing, but that's another matter entirely). I suppose I'm studying to do peacework, and that's something. But studying is not doing, either. And I feel like there's so much more I should be up to.

There was a woman there named Helen who's organizing logistics for the FWCC Triennial in August. After Meeting, she took me out to lunch and then to a museum where there was a truly awesome costumes exhibit. I really love Quakers. I came back in the evening and had Sara over for the night, which was good times. Now I'm over at a local friend's flat for another sleepover.

This week: paper writing. Lots of paper writing.

St Patrick's Day, Dublin

Happy St Patrick's Day, everyone.

I personally had a lovely one. I went out before the parade and grabbed breakfast at a little cafe, and then met up with a friend and kept him company while he ate. By the time the parade started I was back at the hostel. I watched from the second floor (first floor, for anyone on this side of the pond, as in 'the one above the ground floor') and managed to get some pretty decent pictures. I won't know if there are any real keepers until I upload them-- sometime in the next few days.

After the parade, I headed over to Trinity College to check out the Book of Kells; a full-color illuminated bible dating back to 800 AD. The exhibit also includes The Long Room; a 60-meter long library room with two floors of stacks and a barrel-vaulted ceiling (put it this way: the Jedi Archives in Star Wars episode II are a direct, futurized and digitized copy). It houses over 200,000 of the library's oldest books; some of which date back to the fifteenth century. There are also a series of fabulous busts, including classic thinkers like aristotle alongside more modern faces such as Shakespeare, Bacon, Locke, and Parnell. There's even one of Johnathan Swift.

I spent the entire afternoon there, and ended up going through the exhibit twice. The first time I got there just ahead of the post-parade swarm, but they ended up catching up to me. There was a big crowd around the book of Kells, and then a fairly loud crowd in the long room. The second time, the place was much emptier. I ended up just sitting in the long room for the better part of an hour, taking in the smell of the books and the beauty of the architecture. Photography wasn't allowed inside, but I suppose that's just as well, because I can't imagine pictures capturing it.

And speaking of things pictures can't capture, the Book of Kells itself was incredible. I've seen shots of it, of course, in textbooks and the like. But they simply can't convey the intricate detail, the vividness of the color, or the sheer weight of history behind the book itself. This book, and the smaller one being displayed with it, were created 1200 years ago. I wonder if the scribes who copied it out and the artisits who illuminated it ever imagined that their work would still be around--and on display, at that-- more than a millenium after their deaths.

I wonder what relics of our time, 12oo years from now, will be left over to speak for us?

This evening, I'll probably go out with friends and try to get some good shots of the Dublin St Patrick's Day nightlife. Tomorrow is the UK Mother's Day. I also got some really good news today about my workload that's going to make it a lot easier for me to finish all my papers.

So all in all, a very good day. Tomorrow, I'll be holding a friend back home in the light during Meeting for Worship. I hope everyone has a lovely St Patrick's Day.