High Anxiety...A perspective

By:  Sophie Imbuelten

There is a common thread in my travel adventures that occurs to me no matter where in the world the plane touches down- my arrival in Derry is no exception to that rule.

Panic typically sets in when I know I have a limited amount of time to make a flight connection. In this case, I had less than an hour between landing at Heathrow in London, and flying onto to Belfast.  Upon arrival in Ireland, provided my flight landed on time, I had approximately 30 minutes to collect my luggage, clear customs and catch the shuttle to Derry. To add to the pile, being a “half glass full” kind of gal, I had not pre purchased a shuttle ticket.  This was just another drop of stress that was mounting into a tidal wave of panic. If I missed the shuttle, there was not another until the next day- which would mean a very expensive cab ride to the tune of 140 pounds or more (roughly 200 hard earned U.S dollars.) Ouch.

Perhaps one just inherits the “luck of the Irish” just by being in Ireland- Miraculously, somehow I managed to collect my luggage, by pass any customs (not sure how that happened) and still, make it to the curb for the shuttle with time to spare.

Feeling somewhat victorious that I had made it thus far, I didn’t want to buzz kill my new found confidence by stressing out about the small detail of not having purchased a ticket.  After all, who doesn’t take hard cold cash these days?!  

The decompression sound of the shuttle bus door opening jolted me back to the present- In my best “sunny side up” smile, showing all of my Chiclet straight teeth - I confidently approached the driver-  “Hello! My name is Sophie and I want to apologize, but I don’t have a ticket.  I would like to purchase one for the ride to Derry, do you accept cash?”  (Eagerly nodding my head up and down as if this would somehow subliminally coerce him to say yes.)  He looked at me with the same enthusiasm that I was showing him, however, nodded his head from left to right …”Feck No!”

“Hugh of Derry” as I came to know him, had managed to simultaneously make me laugh and cry.  After a long and uncomfortable silence of horror- he burst out laughing “Give me 20 pounds…and I’ll get yer arse to Derry!”

I am in Derry to study “Peace Building through dialogue” a heavy subject matter for a lighthearted person.  I have the good fortune of never having to experience first hand the scars of war.  I live a good life, my biggest problems revolve around not having enough time to accomplish all the things I want to get done- Too much traffic, and the inconveniences of having to multi task to keep up with a busy schedule, top my list of grievances.  I don’t worry about religious conflict in my immediate world- I see it on Television when I tune in for the evening news.  I turn off the tele, and “poof” I make it go away.

Today in class, we heard a personal account of how a boy became a terrorist.  James Greer was just a teenager when he was faced with the reality of violence as survival. 

As he led us on a walking tour of the bogside, the section of Derry where Bloody Sunday took place, we experienced a visual history of  “the troubles”.  The murals brought to life the conflict that took the lives of 14 peaceful protestors on the 30^th of January in 1972.   Protestant vs. Catholic, Unionist vs. Nationalist, brother vs. brother. 

Now, with the perspective of time, looking back James says he would have made a different choice.  “It takes courage to admit your wrong”.  Today he believes the pen is mightier than the sword and that by sharing stories, and hearing multiple perspectives, healing can take place.  He has committed his life’s work to making sure that it does.

In the words of Maya Angelou- “Those who know better, do better.”  James Greer is determined to make sure that the next generations know better.