Art and Hearts in Belfast

As my Belfast-bound bus pulled out of the Derry Ulsterbus depot, I felt sad to leave the city and people I had just been honored to meet. But I was soon filled with awe when I saw the incredible view of the River Foyle widening between the surrounding hills, and renewed with excitement for the next stage of my travels. I stopped at the Giant's Causeway on my way to Belfast, so it was late afternoon when I arrived. After a week in Donegal and a few days in Derry, Belfast appeared through the bus window like a booming metropolis. 

I began my explorations at the Botanical Gardens and the area around Queen's University. The neighborhood was full of energy and color, and it could have been the East Village (though a lot more peaceful!). I spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up the atmosphere, from the noodle bars, thrift shops, and funky cafés along Botanic Avenue to the greying Victorian architecture in the city center. Everything was evocative and my heart was full of feeling. I listened to gulls crying as they pierced their way through the steel grey sky. Teenagers kicked past the closed up shops. Every now and then I'd stumble upon a pub spilling its customers out onto the pavement, crowded joyously against the rain-damp picnic tables and under the strings of white lights.

The next day, I headed out on a more organized exploration to West Belfast. I wanted to see the neighborhood around the Falls Road that's now billed as the Gaeltacht Quarter - a center for Irish language and culture. When I was growing up, of course, the Falls Road was a different sort of center for sectarian violence. I felt curious and hopeful - and a little nervous - as I set off.

To get to the Falls Road from my hostel, I crossed Sandy Row and meandered down a loyalist section of Donegall Road. I hadn't known that my route was going to take me that way, but I'm glad it did. My time in Derry inspired me to take a hard look at my own attitudes and efforts to build peace - starting with my own heart - and walking through a loyalist neighborhood in Belfast gave me the chance to put some action in my contemplation. When I studied abroad in England, Union Jacks were just a part of the local color, but I found that I had a totally different reaction to them in Northern Ireland; they felt unwelcoming and confrontational. As I continued past the flags and murals at Sandy Row and under the bunting of Donegall Road, however, I started to get a sense of the community who lived there. Homes were tidy, with pots of flowers out on steps and windowsills. As I passed a grandmotherly lady who was sweeping in front of home, she looked up and smiled gently at me. I returned her smile warmly. It seems so small, but it felt so big.

 

I navigated the roundabout over the Westlink highway, looping around a big modern sculpture representing a new sunrise over Belfast wetlands. After that I was in the republican neighborhood. It was leafy with old trees. I turned left on the Falls Road and saw, right away, an Irish-language sign for a hairstylist, and I saw plenty more of those signs all along the road. The road was also dotted with cultural markers, pointing out landmarks and history. I stopped at an interesting sculpture and popped into a mill-turned-art market. I also paid a visit to the breathtaking Clonard Monastery. As I paused in the door of the monastery on my way back out to the street, I heard the organist piping away behind me and watched a worker repainting the doorway trim. I looked out at the blue-grey sky fraught with clouds and sound and felt that same heart-full pulsing that I had on first arriving in Belfast.

The main attraction, for me, was the Cultúrlann (Culture Place), a center for language classes, events, and the arts. I couldn't have missed it - it stands out proudly along the road, brightly colored bunting stretching from its peaked roof. I perused the bookshop, checked out an art exhibit (and recognized a painting of Glencolumbkille, the village where we stayed in Donegal!), ordered a cup of tea in Irish, and sat in the bustling café. I was happy to see how busy the Cultúrlann was. 

After visiting the Cultúrlann and the Clonard Monastery, I bopped back into the city center. I made a point of visiting the Church of Ireland cathedral with an open heart and discovered a gorgeous, poignant tapestry in memory of the victims of the Titanic, which was built in Belfast. Then I visited The Mac, a new art gallery; it was small but fun. Afterwards I decided to relax in a coffee shop for awhile; alas, the first one I came to was California-themed! But I did discover a Northern Ireland mainstay, the "Fifteen" cake. I have never tasted anything quite like it and I can predict I'll be making it myself soon. Upon researching it, I discovered that it is apparently more of a Protestant tradition - it is just like me to let my unquenchable sweet tooth and love for food lead me into opening my heart a bit more!

Overall, I was impressed with the Gaeltacht Quarter and I felt that my hopeful outlook was rewarded. A lot of shops had signs in Irish, and I'm not sure how much Irish the people in the shops actually speak or if the signage is a gimmick. Still, I saw it as part of an effort to reinvent the neighborhood in positive terms, emphasizing the cultural, artistic, and literary gifts that the Gaeltacht Quarter has to offer the community of Belfast and Northern Ireland.

As did the rest of my stay in Northern Ireland, however, my visit to the Gaeltacht Quarter raised a few uncomfortable questions. When I embrace my Irish heritage at home in the States, I believe that I'm celebrating those cultural, artistic, and literary gifts. I see my celebration as something positive and welcoming - I'm happy to share what I'm learning and loving with others, and just as happy to learn about and celebrate others' backgrounds. When I was in Northern Ireland, however, I felt at times that there was a more biting edge to embracing my heritage. In the Gaeltacht Quarter, does being Irish mean not being British? And is not being British what's important about expressing pride in being Irish? That nuance felt a bit uncomfortable to me. 

I thought about the Ulster Scots Agency that was developed as a counterpart to the Foras na Gaeilge (Irish language agency) during the peace process. Would I find their cultural center just as interesting? In my opinion, their presence is important to the cultural landscape of Northern Ireland, but  I know that not everyone agrees, and I recognize that my perspective as an outsider and an American is different from that of the locals. I thought again about my Dutch ancestors, centuries ago, settling in Mohawk territory in New York. As an exercise in perspective, I asked myself if and how I would support efforts to promote both Dutch and Mohawk culture now.

As I return home, I don't have any answers to these questions, which have been percolating over the past year. But I do return more committed to genuinely listening to and understanding others, to living a life of invitation and fellowship, and to believing that reconciliation begins in my heart - and excited about the power of the art and creativity to bring new things to life! 

I visited Northern Ireland, and it was deep

Looking through the Derry city walls 

I can't believe I'm finally writing again — hey, I moved! The school year just started! — no more excuses! 

After my week in Donegal, I continued exploring as I traveled to Northern Ireland. Though I'd been to Ireland before, I'd never gone to the North, and I felt that my understanding of the Irish experience was incomplete. My five days in Derry/Londonderry* and Belfast were some of the most incredible travel experiences I've had. The experiences have stayed with me as I've continued to reflect on and pray about everything I learned there. 

Even before I came to Ireland, my experiences and relationships over the past year have encouraged me to reflect on identity, community, and commonality. I've asked myself whether embracing my Irish-American identity and celebrating my heritage necessarily mean excluding others. In the U.S., this debate is mostly internal and often abstract. In Northern Ireland, it took on a more immediate nature.

But first, let me tell you all of the wonderful things about Derry! I arrived on a Saturday afternoon, still high on life after my week at Oideas Gael. Another of my classmates was headed to visit Derry, too, so we explored the city together. The sky was dappled with sun and clouds, and the changing light made the city even more intriguing. We headed first to the ancient city walls,1 where we were greeted enthusiastically by a volunteer Derry/Londonderry Ambassador. His welcome was the first of many we would experience in the city from some of the warmest, kindest people I've encountered on my travels.  

The Guildhall

As we walked along the walls, we could see the sun glinting off the River Foyle and the Adirondack-green hills of the Republic of Ireland in the distance. There were families walking and cycling by the Guildhall (city hall) and along the river. Colorful posters were up celebrating the city's appointment as the EU City of Culture 2013 and host of the All-Ireland Fleadh.2 When I remember Derry, I think of the pink and coral posters against the grey stone and foggy green.

While I was in Derry, I was able to fill in gaps in my knowledge of the history of Northern Ireland. Although I followed the news about The Troubles while I was growing up, I couldn't have explained the Plantation of Ulster or the Relief of Londonderry,3 or their impact on Northern Ireland today. Three things changed that: touring the city's walls, an excellent exhibit at the Guildhall, and a walking tour with a local guide that my friend and I snuck along behind.

I'll spare you the history lesson because I'm hardly an expert, but I'd definitely encourage you to learn more. (Check out the footnotes below.) But the history lesson I had gave me a lot to reflect on, and it wasn't all easy. And what is this blog if not somewhat uneasy reflections?

Two different views from the Derry city walls

The Bogside neighborhood - location of the Bloody Sunday massacre and of famous Nationalist murals - seen from the city walls. The walls look especially imposing from the bottom of the hill. After the growth of the Bogside, new buildings and a monument built along this side of the walls emphasized the imposing message they sent.

POWER

No one man should have all that power. ...

You got the power to let power go?

I couldn't have said it better than Kanye. 

In my limited understanding, I would have said that the British seized Ireland for reasons of greed first and religion second. But I learned that the hundreds of years of conflict were about power and fear. As I read the stories of the characters in the Plantation of Ulster and the uprisings and intrigue that followed, I saw the way they were driven by a fearful desire to hold onto their power and their positions. The British were so keen on holding onto Ireland because strongholds there would protect their access to the Atlantic against encroaching French and Spanish forces and influence. A young earl, only 14, made a deal with the British because he felt threatened by a powerful uncle who opposed them. And while I'd always thought of the conflict in terms of Catholic and Protestant, the reality was more nuanced. Dissenters (Presbyterians) faced the same discriminations as Catholics; the issue wasn't theology, it was loyalty to the Crown. Penal laws punished both Catholics and Dissenters in order to weed out those who weren't loyal to the Church of England4 and its Supreme Governor. 

The fear of losing power is so central to the human experience that I'm sure you could name a dozen other examples out of hand. In this case, as in so many others, the fear of losing power has disastrous consequences. Here, it created centuries of conflict and bred an environment of distrust. In notorious dictatorships like North Korea and Zimbabwe, it leads to starvation. In our personal lives, the scale is smaller, but the results can be heartbreaking: ruptured relationships and dreams not followed. One of the least proud moments in my life was when, as a somewhat unpopular middle school student, I joined in making fun of girls who were even less popular than me because I wanted to cement my status as only somewhat unpopular. To me, the saddest consequence of Northern Ireland's power plays is the hate that was fostered between ordinary people who had more in common than not - ordinary, working and middle class families who happen to be Irish, British, or Ulster-Scots. 

The "Peace Wall" between Loyalist and Nationalist neighborhoods. On the left side is a brick wall with a green top, the Peace Wall. In the upper left corner of the photo is a Union Jack flag and directly across the street is a flagpole flying the Nationalist green flag with gold harp above a Palestinian flag. 

Two peak-roofed buildings

I also thought about my own family history. As a partly-Irish-American Catholic with melting-pot roots, I've always identified with the native Irish. But hearing about the settlers of the Plantation of Ulster, I thought about my own Dutch ancestors who came to New Netherlands to settle. I wondered how they were like the Scottish and English settlers of Ulster. What stories and motivations did they have in common? How did my ancestors perceive the Mohawk and Algonquin people they encountered? How did they treat and, presumably, mistreat them?

Mural of the Bloody Sunday massacre

Irish language mural in the Brandywell neighborhood.

At the Guildhall exhibit, tv screens displayed interviews  with Derry residents. I slipped on the headset for the final interveiw question, "What is the legacy of the Plantation of Ulster?" I'll never forget the answer given by a woman named Janet:

"The legacy is that we're both still here. Both communities are still here and we have to live with one another." She went on to say that living together meant listening to one another, and that her sincere efforts to listen to her neighbors from the other side of the divide had forever changed her perspective and allowed her to understand things she never thought she'd understand.

Hands Across the Divide sculpture at the foot of the Craigavon bridge, over the River Foyle.

I was surprised at how much the legacy of the Troubles is immediate and present in Derry. I didn't get the impression that the people of Derry wanted to ignore them or pretend they didn't happen. It seemed that everyone that I met had lost someone in the Troubles. But in acknowledging the Troubles, it seemed to me, the community was acknowledging their hope for peace.

The Peace Bridge is a new footbridge that connects the Protestant Waterside neighborhood to the rest of the city; as the sun set on my first day in Derry I saw teenagers dashing and skateboarding across the bridge between the two places. The St. Columba trail is a network of important sites from the life of St. Columba, who ministered to the people of Derry in the 6th Century; it included Catholic, Church of Ireland, Presbyterian, and Methodist churches. The keystone of the trail was a sculpture of St. Columba releasing doves and a beautiful prayer for peace. It left me with a feeling of hope for peace, and reassurance that the world is full of so many people of goodwill.

More reflections on Belfast to come! 

Footnotes:

* The name of the city is hotly contested. Derry is the original name of the city; it was renamed Londonderry to honor the contribution of trade guilds from the City of London during the Plantation of Ulster. Today, you can reveal your loyalties by calling the city Derry or Londonderry; its name in official publications is Derry/Londonderry. While I was there, I ended up deciding to refer to the city as Derry because 1) it's simpler than saying Derry/Londonderry and 2) it's the original name of the city. 

1. Derry is the only completely walled city in Ireland. The walls were built in the 17th century.

2. The All-Ireland Fleadh is an annual gathering and competition of musicians, dancers, and so on. 

3. Ulster is one of the four traditional provinces of Ireland. During the Plantation of Ulster, the British Monarchy secured its hold on Ireland by granting land to English and Scottish people and "planting" settlers there. For easy to understand information, read more at www.plantationofulster.org. It's published by the Ulster-Scots Agency.

4. Churches in the Anglican Communion are called "Church of England" in England and "Church of Ireland" in Ireland.

Interlude: The Giant's Causeway

After a week in Donegal, I headed to Northern Ireland. My trip there gave me so much to think about, reflect about, and talk about! But first, a brief interlude at the Giant's Causeway.

My utterly adorable, brave, strong, and funny pet hermit crabs (this is relevant, I promise) are named Niamh and Oisín, after two characters in an Irish legend. While they have an beautiful story in their own right, Oisín's father, Finn McCool, is a much more prominent person in Irish mythology. According to legend, he created the causeway, and left clues in the rocks about his habits. The causeway is a path he constructed to Scotland; other rocks are a pipe organ he created for Oisín to play, a large boot, and a chimney. He even has a camel, visible in the first picture.