What is a Name?

by Patrick Brown
My arrival in Belfast, Northern Ireland did not start off quite as I had expected. My checked bag was not on the same plane with me, and I was heading out immediately for Derry (Londonderry), a 90 minute drive from the airport. After receiving firm assurance that my bag would be sent to my hotel, I boarded the shuttle bus just as dusk settled in and the clearing sky overhead slowly darkened.

A major storm had struck earlier in the day and the roadside glimmered with city lights reflecting off standing water. Quickly passing patches of snow caught my eye as we slowly climbed the high pass though the hillside. It had been a violent storm and driver mentioned that the pass had been closed earlier in the day.

I was excited, but uncertain what I would find upon my arrival in Northern Ireland. I had visited Dublin in the summer of 2015 and found the people warm, friendly and very outgoing. I expected the same in Northern Ireland, but I knew that somehow, I would find it different.

On the short plane ride from London to Belfast, I sat next to a retired British couple. When the gentlemen asked, "Where are you going?", I replied, "Derry". "Derry" he responded in a questioning way. "Where exactly is that?" he said aloud, "Is it North of Belfast?" I thought for moment and replied "Londonderry," "Ah, ha," he said, "Now, I understand." "We call it Londonderry." he added, as if I should have known that all along. He went back to reading his sports page. The conversation was over.

That was my first clue. Something was indeed a little different.


Upon arrival in Derry, a very cheerful and talkative taxi driver began a non-stop monologue as he unloaded what little baggage I had from the bus, and walked me to his waiting taxi. We had hardly left the parking lot before he had asked, "What brought you to Londonderry." I told him I was here to study the peacemaking process and to learn about the "troubles." His voice quicken as he told me his version of the story and it quickly became apparent that he was a Loyalist and the community would always be "Londonderry" to him. The affable fellow went out of his way to point out the "bogside murals" the Catholic Cathedral, and the "great wall" surrounding "Londonderry."

The next morning, I caught another taxi, to take me to a computer shop on the outskirts of town. The conversation took a completely different turn. Again, I was asked what brought me to "Derry?" The response was totally unexpected. This time my driver was from the "bogside" and his voice quicken as he told me his version of the story, this time from the Republican perspective. "Derry was Derry" and would always be "Derry" to him. He told me that he proudly carried a gun during the "troubles."

The next day the class began, and we made a trip to the Tower Museum, the city's historical museum. Jerry, another affable fellow, gave us a fine tour of the museum and yet, for me at least, another version of the same story. He ended his presentation by telling us, "Londonderry or Derry it will always be Ledgenderry" to him.
Today, we visited the "bogside" and the site of the infamous "Bloody Sunday Massacre." "Derry," "Londonderry," or "Ledgenderry," it will be a long time before I forget the people of this troubled community.