Twenty years ago today, this house was being regaled with the exciting commentary of a chuffed four-year-old who had just had her first day at “the big school”.
She returned in triumph with a picture she had drawn, coloured in as well, mind you!
My youngest proudly told me, as she wrestled with her cóta beag, that the teacher had said that she was “lovely”.
I concurred.
It was a moment of pure joy for this fella and the bean chéile.
However, her dad, the An Phoblacht journalist, was fully aware that on the other side of Cúige Uladh, little children were suffering from the hatred of fascists.
Apparently, the defenders of Ulsturr were threatened by little girls going to school.
Now, that particular variant of misogyny does seem rather familiar…
Twenty years ago, the Poundland Taliban in Béal Feirste screamed their hatred at little girls who were trying to go to school.
Moreover, the world’s media were there to see it.
The featured image conveys a sense of the terror that those wee ones had to endure just to get an education.
This was another world away from the life we had given our brood in Dún na nGall.
As my youngest made her way through education from bunscoil to ard coláiste, my little Gaeilgeoir constantly reminded me of my paternal grandmother.
It was a collage of mannerisms, from how she deployed a sideways look to register disapproval to how she could kick off if things weren’t going to HER plan.
All of this said that my grandmother’s DNA hadn’t gone away, you know!
Herself was a Cumann na mBan volunteer who reared a family and took on the British Empire.
For the avoidance of doubt, the British Empire lost.
I recall my grandmother telling me of her schooldays in Westport with the British Empire propaganda on full blast in the classroom.
Thankfully the real stuff was being taught at the hearth in good Fenain households.
These days her great-granddaughter is in scrubs doing her thing in an operating theatre.
Twenty years ago, she took an essential first step on a journey to be the mighty woman who would become Baby Doctor.
One week ago today, your humble correspondent on the South Mall in Westport.
We had gathered to honour the men and women of the West Mayo Brigade.
Many of us there were descendants of those history makers, although it was open to all.
I placed my wreath when I was called.
History forgotten is a betrayal.
History remembered is a weapon.
I sent the photographic evidence to Baby Doctor, and she approved.
A settled sense of cultural identity is a basic human right.
Wherever my brood goes to on this small planet, they travel as Irish people.
Today the terrified wee ones of Holy Cross will now be big grown-up women like my youngest.
I hope that their children never have to encounter the fascist underclass of Narne Arne as they have the temerity to walk to school on an Irish street.
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God bless brave women everywhere where would humanity be without them xxxx
“Magnus Llwellin, editor of Times Scotland, has endorsed an opinion piece that describes ‘The Famine Song’ as a theatrical performance.”
There is one aspect to all this that tends to be overlooked and that is the part Westminster might play. The British way is to divide and conquer, so it only benefits them if there is a strong Loyalist movement in Scotland hence the support Sevco receive from the English media (including Times Scotland) and the lack there of, of any determination by the national government to deal with the problem. Why is it only now that Llwellin is putting in his twopence worth and Fiona Rintoul “given the platform of The Times to explain that Catholic Schools are partly to blame for the ‘sectarian stuff’ on display across Glasgow last Sunday.” Perhaps they can sense a change in the air, purifying the miasma for which they have been partly responsible in the past.
Or on any street for that matter.
Can we also take the time to remember all of those youngsters who sadly never left school to become fully grown adults because of the actions of those on all sides of the troubles in Nothern Ireland Phil.
From Patrick Rooney to those at Omagh Warrington and beyond.
Lest we forget and hope upon hope it never happens again. 🙏🏼✝️🙏🏼
I remember those news clips so well that they are imprinted on my brain, a brain that is still baffled about how grown adults can terrify little children because of their belief system. My heart went out to them that day and I hope it didn’t emotionally scar them for life. At least they got an education on what an uncivilised society looks like. HH
Well Said Mo Chara,
I remember in 1985 after the Anglo Irish agreement was signed.
There was loyalist demonstrations including strikes, power cuts and school closures etc.
I was about 12 years old with 2 younger sisters one 10 and the other 7.
Protestant schools were closed but the Catholic schools refused to close.
No school buses were running. So my mother decided to walk us to school that morning. It was probably about a 2 mile walk through the ulster plantation town in which I was unfortunately born.
When we got to the station gates in the town that morning there was a large number of loyalist demonstrators.
They asked my mother where she was going. She replied “to school with my weans”
One of them said “no your fucking not”
I will never forget to this day what she said .I was afraid but so proud of her.
She said “My weans are going to school and you or nobody else around here is going to stop me”
She then marched us through the gates.
With the assholes spitting and jeering at us.
My mother was so brave that morning.
I learned a valuable lesson that morning. We must always stand up to bullies.
No doubt I don’t live there anymore. The seeds of my politics were sowed that morning.
HH
When the Scottish loyalists March this month in Glasgow, police alongside willbthere be any arrests when they sing and play their dittys