Teaching the Troubles at NHA: Belfast to Downpatrick

Dundrum Castle, seen from the door of Mark's weapons shack

The rubber bullet scar on Pat McGovern's hand

Anti-Racist banner preserved at Linen Hall Library. Interestingly, the street address is from a Unionist neighborhood

This morning, Dave and I met our brother-from-another mother Donal O'Hagan and proceeded on a black cab tour of the Shankill and Falls neighborhoods and the peace line. When we first got in the cab, our guide sat down in the pull-down seat in front of us to do his introduction. "Youse are teachers, eh? Ya' wouldn't happen to be History teachers, now would'ja? Ya' are? Oh, crap."

Though he felt a little intimidated at the depth of knowledge represented by Donal, Dave and me, our guide nonetheless did a nice job filling in a few of the gaps anyway, such as the symbolism of the William of Orange mural in the center of the flats (William's horse's hooves are off the ground, symbolizing that he died in battle, when he actually died by falling from his horse) or the fact that the machine guns of one mural follow you no matter where you stand to look at them. And he gave us an excuse to stand and stare at the absolutely insane sectarian graffiti all around the Shankill. Somehow, a Catholic friend of Donal's was allowed to create his own mural in the Protestant-Unionist-Loyalist Shankill flats area. We had to dance around much un-bagged dog poop in the untended park to get a good look at it.

Donal is a teacher at Nendrum College just outside of Belfast, and an award-winning playwright as well. He and I are collaborating on a play that deals with a juxtaposition of the trauma of the Troubles and the agonizing pain around Race in America.

Donal's father was Des O'Hagan, interned IRA man, founding member of the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association, prominent member of the Worker's Party, Sociology Professor and author of Letters from Long Kesh. His mother came from Protestant stock, but was an active Communist. Donal's mixed parentage produced in him a reflexive need to correct the mythology on both sides and to seek objective truth. He has been an incredible source for me for years, always sending me links to resources that balance my thinking whenever I seem to be going too far over to one side of the other.

After the tour and lunch, Donal took us on his own tour of the Falls Road neighborhood, including a visit to the political offices of Sinn Fein, where I purchased a copy of Brendan Behan's Borstal Boy, a book about the Bogside by our Derry guide Gleann Doherty's brother (This Man's Wee Boy by Tony Doherty), and a copy of Uncomfortable Conversations, a Sinn Fein publication on reconciliation related to the Troubles where the title evokes for me the book on talking about Race in America called Courageous Conversations by Glenn Singleton.

As I was leaving, the woman at the bookstore counter--Pat McGovern--showed me the almost fifty year old rubber bullet scar she received while playing the drum at a protest on the Falls.

One recent political nuance that Donal helped us appreciate was the gay pride bunting up around the Donegall Road Unionist area and the Falls Road Nationalist area. He questioned whether either side really cared so much about the issue, or if they were perhaps just trying to outdo one another at being on the right side of the fight.

Another insider observation from Donal occurred as he drove us past Queens University, an ostensibly Unionist institution now overtaken by Nationalists. How do you know they're Nationalists? Every second person seems to be wearing a GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) jersey from somewhere or other.

Donal then drove us through the campus of the grammar school he attended and spoke of the Protestant brain drain that sent many of his brightest classmates to foreign countries rather than staying in the North (and sent him to London for quite some time, though he is not Protestant).

Donal broke down the "selection" issue in UK schools for us, as it works in Northern Ireland. Based on an exam at 11, students move on to either "Grammar" or "Secondary" school. Those who get into Grammar will be at University, be lawyers, doctors, teachers, etc. Those who end up in Secondary will be in the trades. The Troubles actually provided a lot of jobs for tradesmen in security forces.

After we had driven back to Donal's area of Downpatrick in County Down (he actually lives in a nearby hamlet called Saul, believe it or not), which is 95% Catholic, Donal made sure to show us some Protestant suffering to balance against the myth of the Protestant haves and Catholic have-nots in this country. By the hilltop is a Protestant slum known for drug dealing. The secondary school gate opens up to the dole (unemployment) office across the street, symbolizing a progression from school days to days of hopelessness.

We rounded down the hills into the valley below Saint Patrick's original church, where Donal's idyllic house filled with books, dogs and good cheer kept us cozy for the night.

The following day would bring us from Norman history in the 1170's via Down Cathedral to the 1200's Dundrum Castle in Newcastle to ages of local history in the Down County Museum to World War I at the Somme Museum just outside Belfast. Along the way, we would meet a medieval weapons specialist named Mark, employed by Game of Thrones, and hold a few of his swords in our hands. His office is a small shack at the foot of the hill at Dundrum Castle. Donal says this about him: "He's worked there for twenty years with little recognition or support, but every summer he educates hundreds of kids (by) bringing medieval weaponry to life at the foot of one of the great medieval castles in Ulster."

We walked up to Dundrum Castle, into it and onto its highest terraces in a lashing rain and blowing wind. "If you can see the hills, it means it's going to rain," said Mark. "If you can't see the hills, it means it already is."

Our second night in Downpatrick featured a four mile run along the lough and a reading of the first act of our play and some excellent ideas for Acts Two and Three suggested by our captive audience of Dave and Donal's wife Liz.

On the morning of the 17th, we would return to Belfast.