Reasons to be Cheerful

Earlier in the year, I posted about the (as I saw it) deplorable acceleration in Ireland’s crime rate, and the increasing savagery of those crimes; in that post, I spoke about how Irish people were losing faith in their government and the Catholic church, and that only the system of law had any credence left.

Well, since then, the Gardaí – our police force – has imploded under the weight of a bugging scandal and the dismissive treatment of two whistleblowers who sought to bring corruption within the force to light and crime, very sadly, has carried on undaunted. I have stopped counting the amount of shootings and attacks that line every news bulletin, because there’s only so much darkness that one struggling mind can take. Sometimes it truly feels that Ireland is under a black cloud – partly of its own making – which will never clear.

But today I have a reason to be proud of my country.

Image: rte.ie

Seo é Úachtaráin na h-Éireann, Michéal D. Ó hUiginn – this is the President of Ireland, Michael D. Higgins. And today he, his wife Sabina, and our ‘Tánaiste’ (equivalent to a Deputy Prime Minister) are travelling to London to meet with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth on the first State Visit to Buckingham Palace by an Irish head of State.

Perhaps, to a non-Irish person, this doesn’t sound like a huge deal. But it is.

A few years ago, when Her Majesty visited Dublin, I was still working in the city. Getting around Dublin during the weeks before the visit was complicated, as security checks were being completed absolutely everywhere. Buildings were checked. Sewers were sealed up. Barriers were erected to cordon off the expected crowds, for not only did the Queen visit Ireland that summer, but so did President and Mrs Obama, whose trip came a few days before hers. In practical terms, these barriers meant that a hurrying, short-legged pedestrian – i.e. me – racing to catch buses and make their way home after a long day at work was often thwarted in their efforts.

But, somehow, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. The Queen was coming to Ireland. The Queen. No British monarch had set foot in the country since 1911 – exactly one hundred years before – when we’d still been part of the Empire. This was huge. Of course, there was the usual sabre-rattling from the expected corners of the country; there were bomb threats. There were howling voices in the media decrying it as an insult to our fallen forefathers.

And then, there were ordinary citizens like me, praying that nothing would happen to Her Majesty or Prince Philip on Irish soil. Praying that they’d be safe, not only for their own sake but also for the sake of the future of Ireland and its relationship with Britain.

Image: telegraph.co.uk

When the Queen stepped out of her car dressed in a green suit to shake hands with the then-President of Ireland, Mary McAleese, it was a lump-in-throat moment for me.

Her Majesty went on to lay a wreath in the Garden of Remembrance to honour the fallen in the cause of Irish freedom, and I watched it on TV and wept, as – I’m sure – did many in my country.

When she gave a speech at a State dinner in Dublin Castle – once, of course, a British stronghold in the city – and began it with a few words of Irish, it was stunning. I think it was at that point the country, and its relationship with Britain, turned a corner.

I hope our President and his wife will be safe in the UK, because I’m sure there are still dissenters who would wish to derail the peace that has been hard-won between our countries. I hope he acquits himself with as much dignity as Her Majesty did on her State visit to Ireland – I have no doubt he will, for he is a scholar and a gentleman. But most of all I hope the trip gives Ireland something to be proud of, something to lift the spirits; I hope it reminds us all how far we’ve come since the terrible times when it seemed we were going to tear ourselves in shreds, all for the sake of the indefinable idea of ‘freedom.’

There is more than one way to be free. Ridding ourselves of the burden of the past is a good first step toward the liberty we’ve fought so long for. But above all, let there be peace, and peace evermore, and let no more blood be shed.

Newspaper account of the Queen’s historic handshake with Sinn Féin politician and ex-IRA member, Martin McGuinness
Image: andrewsherman.blogspot.com

 

Troubled Waters

I slept badly last night. Or, rather, I slept, but it was disturbed and not at all restful. This was because I spent the whole night having the same nightmare over and over, and eventually I woke myself up early because I couldn’t face going through it again. The dreams were so upsetting that when I woke up, and realised for sure that what I’d been dreaming about hadn’t happened, I almost wept with relief.

I often wonder what the point of nightmares is; why do our brains feel the need to pump our dreams full of terror? In this case, I think perhaps my brain was reinforcing my love for a particular person by making me dream about what life would be like without them. At least, that’s how I’m going to try to rationalise it! Perhaps it was a way of dealing with the grief and horror of losing someone close, without actually having to go through it for real. Still, though. Whatever the reason, I really hope my brain leaves me in peace tonight and lets me sleep undisturbed.

I wonder, too, if my troubled sleep last night had anything to do with the news bulletin I watched yesterday evening. I saw footage of people dying, elections being interfered with, people being savagely attacked as they tried to exercise their franchise in an attempt to bring some sort of peace to their country, children living in camps for Internally Displaced Persons, countries where whole generations of people have lived and died in war… is it any wonder I’d take all that to my sleeping world, and that it would disturb my rest as it disturbed my waking life? Add to that the trial of a man in Japan accused of murdering a young Irish woman who grew up not far from where I grew up, the gangland and sectarian crime still rife in parts of my country, and the parlous state of the economy, and you have the perfect nightmare brew.

Ireland’s police force – An Garda Siochana
Image: en.wikipedia.org

In Ireland, the police force is called ‘An Garda Síochana’, which means ‘The Guardians of the Peace’ in English. By and large Ireland is peaceful – certainly, I’m lucky to live in a place where the worst I have to contend with is noisy neighbours. But there are parts of Ireland, as there are parts of every country, where the Gardaí have a harder job. Peace was hard-won in this country, and I’d hate to see a return to the ‘bad old days’; desperation still drives a lot of people, though, and the causes that divided and hurt so many people in the past are still alive and well, albeit quieter. Sometimes, when I think about how thin the layer of civilisation is, and how it relies very much on everyone co-operating, I tend to get a bit light-headed.

The old saying – that ‘we’re always only three (or four, or nine) meals away from anarchy’ – has often played on my mind. When that’s coupled with my innate suspicion of getting too reliant on technology, and my natural tendency towards anxiety, I fear I’m only one step removed from the tinfoil hat brigade.

Image: bigrab.wordpress.com

But I remind myself how well the world does work, despite everything, and how there are always more people who want to work together and strive for the same goal than there are people who want to tear it all down and dance amid the ruins. I’d like to see a society where every person is valued and cared for, and where compassion is the ruling force – ‘where love is Lord of all’, as the old song goes. But keeping my own home, my own mind as a haven of peace is probably as close as I’ll get to that.

As a weird little finishing note, I’ve just texted the person about whom I had all the disturbing dreams last night. Their reply read something like: ‘That’s so weird. I spent all last night having crazy dreams about you! Get out of my head!’

Is it time for this? After me: Doodeedoodoo, doodeedoodoo….

Image: katymunger.wordpress.com