Learning about the ‘Troubles’ and ‘keeping my eyes open’
After leaving my backpack at the hostel, I headed for the Ulster Museum in the South of the city. Among the different sections about Irish history and the history of the city in particular, there was a slide show and wall-sized photos of the ‘Troubles’. The exhibition described in details the key events in the sectarian violence which erupted in the late 1960's, as a reaction to catholic-nationalist activism. I found this very brave and worthy of respect, especially considering how we describe the civil war in Lebanon as the 'war of others on our soil'.
After the touring the museum, I went back to the city centre and walked into an old pub. I fed myself with a delicious meal of roasted ham, chump (mash potatoes with butter and caramelised onions) and boiled cabbage -- I'm a big proponent of British and Irish food! And to improve digestion, I watered them down with two pints of Carlsberg, by default of locally produced farm cider or ale. I finished my beer and food while reading a few pages of Geronimo's biography, while everyone else was engaged in either an after-work conversation, or watching the horse race on television to make sure their money was safe. I walked out to find the waiter on a cigarette break -- a jovial man in his early thirties. He asked me from where I come from and why I was visiting, after modestly agreeing that their pub food was good, ‘Yeah, it's alright’. Then he agreed of my perception of the city centre. I said: ‘All of this has been made up to look touristy, right?’ He nodded his head, and then added: ‘Take a taxi or a bus and head west. I'm from the West. Go on a pub tour. You'll get a different feeling; it’ll keep your eyes open’.
I did take the bus, but to head south again to locate a Unionist mural which I had spotted on my way to the Museum. I walked around for ages, but couldn't find it. I found a mural outside a pub in which a man in his seventies was playing the violin. Upon a closer look, there was another interesting painting in the background, made to look like a painting on the wall behind the old violinist: The portrait of a sad old man with an Arabic koufiah on his head and an immense number of tents behind him. The writing said: 'Palestine, 60 years of occupation'. I remembered a photo of a mural that dates back from the 1980’s, which depicted an IRA fighter holding hands in the air with a PLO fighter, with a slogan saying that the two organisations were joined in the same fight.
To the right of the mural, there were inscriptions in many languages, including Arabic and Farsi, which said 'Welcome'. The inscriptions were a copy of the ones I had seen saw at the reception of the Ulster Museum. However, the Arabic ahlan wa sahlan lacked the letter alef at the end. Anyways, it was the 'new' and 'friendly' Belfast they wanted to advertise. Let it be then! I took on the extra challenge of finding traces of the conflict.
By then it was too late, and I was too tired. I headed back to the hostel. It is a strange feeling which one gets by sleeping surrounded by people one didn't know, or whose faces couldn't see in the dark. I was so wary that I hid my 'valuables' in my shoe -- I tried hard to erase that memory from my mind the next day, but kept being reminded of it every time I had to reach for my phone or my wallet. The stink of the place certainly didn't make it more welcoming, but I reminded myself that it was only 6.50 pounds a night and I was too tired not to fall asleep quickly. But before going to bed, I had planned my tour for the next day, and finding political murals was a top priority.
No comments:
Post a Comment