We’re a funny people on this island; funny as in hilarious, it’s a well-known stereotype and we are indeed full of the ‘craic’ and quick witted. But funny, as in odd or peculiar is maybe a more fitting label. I find the people here to be kind, hugely generous, friendly and warm but sometimes our behaviour or staunch beliefs can shock me. Do the thousands of visitors or people that come to live on our shores find us welcoming and engaging?
I was trying to frame this piece, wondering how best to carefully tread the path of sensitivity to all. You see, I’m a people pleaser and so any hint of inflammatory words that could offend or potentially annoy make me shy away, backed into a cowardly corner. I can’t face the very awkward possibility of upsetting someone. And yet it’s inevitable.
As I left the house for my daily self-prescribed dose of solo fresh air, I found myself falling into step with the distant drumbeat carried over the wind from town and inadvertently I marched down the lane to the Lambeg on the 12th of July. Such a distinctive sound, I considered how it made me feel, I’m always overly pensive on a solo walk! As with all contentious topics relating to war, religion and rebellion, where lives have been lost, divisions created and lasting poisonous feelings linger, my main feeling is sadness and incomprehension.
A brief background to help excuse my ignorance or naivety…My parents both grew up in Bangor, County Down and when my older brother and I were tiny tots they decided to move to the quiet north coast, in part due to the tensions and violence often centred around the Belfast area during what we now call ‘The Troubles.’ My siblings and I went to a tiny country school where politics didn’t feature and I spent a happy childhood almost blissfully unaware of the nature of the world outside my bubble. I say almost as I have a few stand out memories of being a very scared little girl (the root of some of my anxieties now no doubt); travelling through Derry on our way to visit my Aunt and Uncle in Donegal and encountering a burning bus blocking the road and when watching cartoons with my best friend, interrupted by a breaking news bulletin which was to report the worst single atrocity of the time, the Omagh Bomb.
As I grew older my interests were in nature, horses, birdwatching, drawing then make up, boys and being a rebellious teenager became my focus. Again, I sheltered myself from conflict by shrugging off or trying to ignore the questions, ‘where did you go to school’ ‘what’s your surname’ ‘Do you know the words to…’ and the no nonsense approach, ‘Are you Catholic or Protestant’ Sometimes seemingly innocent, sometimes with a vehemency that frightened me (apparently ‘neither’ isn’t a sufficient answer to the latter and prompts more interrogation). A fairly pathetic telling of Irish history in school, especially a localised version, meant educating myself with balanced literature to try and better understand the passion that some felt for their cause. I was fascinated by the trauma of our collective people and the tragedies that could have been averted, finding myself drawn to the most miserable and grim periods of famine and rebellion-perhaps subconsciously searching for logic or rationale.
I didn’t want to be labelled, I found it bizarre and I can’t relate. Any tie to a single ‘culture’ was irrelevant to me since I didn’t have a faith to prop up the beliefs or traditions often assigned to one or other. I just didn’t see my world like that. Some people close to me have experienced unthinkable hardship, discrimination or violence and I know it’s difficult for them to understand my stance; just as I can never presume to fully comprehend how they feel by thankfully not experiencing the same. I squirm at the thought.
A romanticism born from the fierce and dramatic beauty of our countryside meant I developed a sense of pride of place, I lamented over the loss of our language and was mesmerised with our myths and legends and folk music, with little to no significant feeling towards flags, certain sports or religion. I suppose some might feel this has a nationalist slant but there’s no politics in it for me. I’m a homebird, I love it here, I love our countryside, our freedom and our folk.
I had the view of our people as an island nation amongst an international community. My parents showed me the beauty of our landscape with holidays around the island and I didn’t see division in the swift cloud shadows on mountains, the migrating flocks of whooper swans or the driving rain. I didn’t feel difference in the waves of the Atlantic hitting the shores on west coast or north coast beaches and the comforting warm embrace of my great aunt in Tipperary was as loving as that of my grandparents in Bangor. I continue to find my friends and strangers I encounter to have the same warmth of character countrywide. We are, for the most part, absolutely and genuniely, lovely!
As I’m writing this, watching my children play, my focus is on the future of their world, not this tiny place; the worry of climate change and solastalgia being the anxiety and struggle of their existence. My hope is that they will not be obsessed with the awful past, but be eco rebels, their cause will be environmentalism because that is all that really matters.
From a food perspective I view the island as a vast grocery basket (remember Gourmet Ireland anyone?); a map of feasts- pinpointing places for excellent produce, beautiful farms and eateries famed for practices of integrity to quality and locality. Our hedgerows and gardens are adorned with native and non-native plants, there is surprising diversity with nuances of taste depending on geography, coast or inland and the pace of season change. The idiosyncrasies of our landscape dictate a wealth of interesting and delicious produce cross the whole island, endlessly fascinating.
I rebel against the twisted, global food industry and my cause is to promote a love and knowledge of real food!
In a twisted odd witted way, hopefully to give you a laugh, I tried originally to include the red,white and blue and green, white and orange of the symbolic flags of this place. However, that ideal is seems a little defunct as the island of Ireland is a diverse and beautiful community of people from all over the world and often flags can divide rather than unite. So make it rainbow and celebrate our produce and borrowed flavours!
Courgette Salad
1-2 courgettes
Olive oil, salt and pepper
Dressing
1 large carrot
2 tsp tomato puree
1 tsp white miso
Juice from one lime/lemon
2 tablespoons orange juice
1 garlic clove
Piece of ginger same size as garlic
salt and pepper, olive oil
Assembly
Rocket leaves
3 Tablespoons of cooked pulse, I used mung beans
2 tablespoons Ricotta
As many edible flowers as you like!
Sliced fresh chilli?
Extra olive oil for drizzling!
Heat the grill on high and prep the courgette with olive oil, salt and pepper on a baking sheet. Lay skin side up and place under the grill. Meanwhile make your dressing; grate the carrot and ginger and put all the rest in a blender until smooth. Turn the courgette and grill the other side until its collapsing.
Assemble however you like! Lay the leaves and pulses on the plate and bung everything else on top?!
(I’ll never get a cookbook deal with a method description like that!)
Tomorrow we’re expecting 35°C here in Sydney — think I’ll give your courgette salad recipe a go.
🌏☮️🌍💟🌎
So true. I found it difficult to fill monitoring forms for jobs and even harder that my answers are never taking into account. According to my different addresses, I was once deemed a protestant and the next year a catholic. How can we move forward when the none answer is being denied? Also my kids getting closer to school age is terrifying and so far from the separation of church and state and neutrality we have in our schools in France.