A Peace Paved in Blood

 by Teri O'Connor

     Studying the peace work that’s been done here in Derry, Northern Ireland, it’s easy to believe that the Troubles are in the past; That a new day has dawned and the people have moved on from the former conflict that laid waste to their homes and turned neighbors against one another. As we walk the streets together, our guides share information from a historical perspective that makes the days of trouble seem far away, as if they themselves weren’t effected by the violence. Yet even as they share the stories, flickers of personal pain flash briefly across their faces like ghosts they can’t quite escape.

     Those working tirelessly to sustain the fragile peace know all too well how thin the veil of civility is that keeps the armistice here in this now quiet town. They live in constant awareness that one thoughtless deed could ignite a short fuse with devastating consequences. Yet it is this very knowledge that fuels their diligent efforts toward dialogue and peace. 

     In the taxi on my way back from “the other side” of town, my young driver asks me where I’m from, and as so often happens, what I was doing here in Derry. When I explain that I am here with other students to learn about how the people of Northern Ireland are working together toward peace, he scowls and sets me straight with a forceful, “Och, there’ll be no peace in Derry!” He tells me with derision that there is no Northern Ireland. In a hushed and angry tone he assures me, “There’s but Irish and British here, and make no mistake.” Surprised by his impassioned speech, I ask him what it was like growing up in the time of the Troubles; if as a young boy he just thought it was normal? 

“Aye,” he nods, “The bombs might be blastin, 

but we’d ownleh be thinkin, ‘what’s fer teh?’” 

     Later, as I chat with an older gentleman, I ask his opinion of the young driver’s statement that “there is no Northern Ireland”. He scoffs and swears to me that this is the foolishness of youth. He shares that one of the obstacles to moving on is the romanticized stories that happen fireside in the pub. "The older men fill the heads of youth with tales of their bravery and valor". My host shakes his head sadly as he whispers,

“The problem with touting the Glory Days, 

is there was no glory in ‘em.” 

     All in all, I have found Northern Ireland to be a place of lush greens, cozy pubs, and engaging people, but the sorrow here is bone deep and lingers in the hushed tones and quiet conversations. Roadside murals and memorials offer cautionary tales of a history that must never be repeated. Yet even as the people work toward reconciliation, Northern Ireland’s poignant legacy remains that her road to peace has been paved with the blood of her children.