If you can't serve all the people ...

I love Belfast. I lived there during the 1970's and 1980's at the height of the 'troubles', and two of my sons were born there.

It is by far the most wonderful place that I've lived in, and its development since the beginning of the peace process has been exciting to see. However, it can also be the most frustrating of places to those people who care about it. Political and religious views are still very much polarised, and when the two are brought together, and immersed into each other, the results are the continuation of a 400 year old struggle.

Take two examples that are very much linked. On the 28th November 2011, there was a ceremony at City Hall where the Lord Mayor of Belfast was handing out certificates to successful young people on their completion of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award Scheme. Part way through the ceremony, the Lord Mayor left the room as he refused to give an award to a 15 year old who happened to be an Army cadet. He let his political views interfere with his job.

It's perhaps helpful to put him in some sort of context. Niall O Donnghaile, who is a Sinn Fein member, at aged 25 is the youngest ever Belfast Lord Mayor, and it was only three weeks before his appointment that he was elected as a Belfast City Councillor. His rise to the top has indeed been meteoric, but he unfortunately forgot what he said when he was elected Lord Mayor last May. "I do want to be a mayor for all ... not just unionists, loyalists, but republicans and nationalists, and many different people who make up our city". Refusing to give an award to a young Army cadet does not fit in with this statement.

Martin McGuinness, Sinn Fein Deputy First Minister at the Northern Ireland Assembly has said that this was a mistake. Niall O Donnghaile has since apologised. His apology has been accepted by the young person; by the young person's family, and by Belfast City Council. But still the opposition want to make political capital out of the incident. In today's Belfast Telegraph, there is a report saying that community groups in the city are "boycotting the Lord Mayor" by withdrawing invitations to him attend their functions. City Hall today confirm that two groups have cancelled or postponed their invitations. As this often happens anyway, it's hard to make out a case that the Lord mayor is being boycotted.

The Democratic Unionist party (DUP) have called on the Lord Mayor to resign because he is not 'inclusive'. In response, a Sinn Fein spokesman said, "We won't be taking any lectures on inclusion from the DUP. These are the people who, for 100 years, would not have a Catholic Lord Mayor, never mind a Sinn Fein Lord Mayor". So, are they any better?

Belfast City Hall

The second example concerns the Deputy Lord Mayor, Ruth Patterson who is a member of the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP). When she and the Lord Mayor were elected last May, she refused to accept his congratulations or to acknowledge his presence. You can read the BBC Northern Ireland account of this here.

Allegedly, seven months later, she will still have nothing to do with him. The same Sinn Fein spokesman said, "Today, the DUP Deputy Lord Mayor will not talk to the Sinn Fein Lord Mayor, never mind shake his hand. So whatever lessons we need to learn about outreach, and we all need to stretch ourselves in these matters, we won't be taking any lectures from the DUP". This is why I said earlier that Belfast can be so frustrating. This is such a shame, because at Northern Ireland Assembly level, the DUP First Minister, and Sinn Fein Deputy First Minister, despite holding strongly divergent political views, do seem to attempt to work together for the good of Northern Ireland.

When you are elected to positions such as Lord Mayor and Deputy Lord Mayor of a great city, you are elected to serve all of the people, not just those who agree with your political views. Similarly, you are not elected to solely promote your own views, to the detriment of the city as a whole. At least Niall O Donnghaile apologised, though I haven't read that he promises not to do it again. There is no apology from the Deputy Lord Mayor, in fact, her stance has been supported by her own political party. Thank god that there are thousands of Belfast and Northern Ireland people who are more enlightened than many of their politicians, and want to see the city move forward in terms of inclusivity.

If you can't serve all the people, then don't put yourself up for election. Of course, politics is about fighting for what you believe in; always has been, and always will be, and I'd hate to see the day when that stopped. However, in a democratic society, it's more than that. It's accepting "the will of the people" who have voted in their representatives, and there should be no disrespect shown to those representatives, or displaying hissy fits when things don't go our way. If you can't serve all the people, then don't put yourself up for election. Respect and good manners should not be seen as old fashioned. The following video may seem a bit strange, but in my world, it helps to cement the message above.

Carriers of Wonderment

Arboretum 6th November 2011

In a recent blog, attention was drawn to the new President of Ireland, who commented on his primary school teacher, William Clune, saying that he saw every child who came into his class as a "carrier of wonderment". I haven't been able to get this wonderful phrase out of my mind, and it set me thinking.

A friend of mine has taken a break from work, and is spending a few months travelling in America. A few days ago, they sent me an email saying that they were in the State of Wyoming. Sad people like me, with a great fondness for old Western films will remember that many of them were shot in Wyoming - not at all relevant to my story, but it gives another insight into my character. My friend, on viewing the scale and beauty of the area in which they were staying, said that it was awesome. They were full of wonder.

In a similar vein, but much closer to home, a young lady approached me as I sat on my favourite seat in the Nottingham Arboretum. She asked could she sit down and talk to me. Now I've mentioned before the usual people who sit down next to me, who are a mixed bunch. A young lady was something new, so of course I said yes. She was from Korea, and was spending a year in Nottingham doing a Masters degree in journalism at Nottingham Trent University. All she wanted was to share her evident excitement for Nottingham. She was thrilled with the houses, the space and the parks. In her home city she said, everyone was crammed together, living in high rise blocks, with very little space. She was awestruck by the comparison, and then she was off to continue her jog - full of wonder.

Viewing nature with a sense of wonderment is one thing, but seeing people as carriers of wonderment is totally different. This is about viewing people in a positive light; it's about seeing potential, and not negativity. It is sometimes the difference between people succeeding or not. William Clune was an example of someone who believed that every child was capable of achieving something positive in life. The world would be a much better place if there were more people that showed the same attitude. I think that it's worth exploring what we mean by this.

While the phrase, "carrier of wonderment" is new to me, the idea behind it is not. It can be used to describe our view of children ,young people and adults. Unfortunately, far too many people view others as a problem; they see people through the eyes of fear, or disgust; such people to them are an 'underclass', and something should be done to "protect decent people". Little wonder that people turn out feeling alienated from society, with no hope or aspiration.

My view is not pie-eyed, but has been forged in the furnace of over thirty years working with those who have been looked down upon in Belfast and Hastings. My experience has not been with children, but with those generally over the age of eighteen, who were the products of failed families, school and care system. Seeing anyone, whatever their age, as a "carrier of wonderment" is the same to me as getting people to believe in what they can do, rather than in what they can't do.

There's the apocryphal story of the young man who grew up thinking that his name was No, as all he ever heard was, "NO, don't do that". Let me give you two examples of people who turned from believing that there was nothing that they could do, to seeing what they could do. I'm not using these examples as an act of self-aggrandisement, but to show that philosophical principles are best explained with practical examples.

There was a couple of young men in Belfast who belonged to the youth wing of a paramilitary group. Let me digress slightly by saying that I used to get into a bit of bother from time to time with paramilitary groups from both sides, because of encouraging young men in particular to see that there was more to life for them than violence and murder. In exploring options with these young men - and it took some time, as they didn't initially believe that there were any options, it finally transpired that they thought they'd like to do sandwich making, and deliver to local shops, offices and homes. This was a start; they were thinking in positive terms. To cut a long story short, I arranged for a grant to cover their start-up costs, including equipment, and allowed them to use one of our project rooms, rent free for a year. They didn't earn a fortune, but it was more than they received on benefits, and they worked really hard. You could not put a price on the increased sense of self-worth. All this because someone saw in them a "carrier of wonderment". Or to put it another way; allowing people to see what they can do, can bring huge rewards.

When I went to work in Hastings, I found the place full of angry and disillusioned men and women. Just as in Belfast, they spent a lifetime being told what they couldn't do, and the message they received was that they were good for nothing. They were seen as "low-life" and "layabouts" - these were quotations from the local press, and comments from the local community. To clients, nobody seemed to bother or care about them. But my project did. When you have a 'can-do' philosophy, you can expect to see changes, even in the most hardened of individuals. Though so many people were really poor at reading and writing, we decided that we'd have a poetry competition, for people to express what they felt within themselves. Everyone was encouraged to take part, and those who couldn't write, were encouraged to get staff or volunteers to help them. The results were remarkable, and we published them in a book. The spelling and grammar was atrocious, and was an example of a failed educational system, that was supposed to prepare people for life. The raw material though was something special, and most of the people were really proud of what they had achieved. This may not seem like much to some, but it was a small step forward (actually, for a few it was a massive step forward). They did something that they didn't know they had in them, and it was wonderment. In the end they proved to be 'carriers of wonderment'.

Some may think that is this another case of Evans hyperbole, but if you can see potential in every child, why can't you see it in every adult? I know the way that I'd prefer to live.

"Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!" 

Anne Frank

People of Influence

Orangefield Baptist Church Belfast

My Son has just written here a wonderful Blog about Ronald Lee who had been a major influence on his musical, intellectual and personal life. It was a very moving piece that set me thinking about the importance of the influence of others in our lives.

I refuse to use the term 'role-model' as it has been so de-valued today. Why on earth actors, models and professional sports people should be seen as role-models is beyond me. They live in a different world to the ordinary man and woman in the street.

There are of course many people who have had an influence on my thinking through their writings, speeches and way of life. People such as Mahatma Gandhi, Dr Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, and more recently Jean Genet. However, these are people who have influenced from a distance; what of those I have known personally, and been influenced by them?

Before coming to that, I wonder whether I, after a life-time of work, have had a positive influence on the life and work of others? Only others can answer that of course, and it would be rewarding if the answer was yes, but disappointing if the answer was no. The truth is that I'll probably never know.

It has been a humbling exercise to try and come up with names of those who have been influential in my life, and perhaps not surprisingly the list is very small. There have been those I've met who I have admired and respected greatly, but this is different from having a personal, positive influence on me. In the end I've settled on one person, Minnis Mills.

Stormont Parliament Building Belfast

In 1970, I moved to Belfast with my wife to study theology at the Belfast Baptist College, and we started to attend Orangefield Baptist Church, which was the nearest Church to where we were living. (Picture at the top of this Blog).

The Pastor (Minister) was Minnis Mills. As far as I can tell, he was born in Belfast in February 1904, and became an Accountant. I believe that he may have founded the Orangefield Church, but I'm not clear when.

The Belfast Telegraph has a wedding notice saying that Pastor Minnis Mills conducted the service at Orangefield Baptist Church in August 1947. So it was at least in existence just after the war. The current building was opened around the middle to late 1960's, and its design was in stark contrast to the rather bland Baptist Churches in existence at that time. I was later to become Pastor of this Church for six and a half years from the late 1970's to early 1980's.

Minnis Mills was a short, thin man, who was always immaculately dressed. If he wasn't in a suit, it would be a jacket and trousers, and always with a tie. Even when dressed up, I could never look as dapper as him. His manners were just as immaculate. The academic year 1971 - 1972 was one that I'll never forget; not because of the constant threat from bombs, bullets and street unrest in Belfast, but because I worked with Minnis Mills.

During the second year at theological college, everyone who was training for the ministry was allocated a Church placement to spend the whole year working with the local Pastor, in addition to college work. I was allocated (in fact I strongly insisted) Orangefield Baptist Church under the guidance of Minnis Mills. It was a wonderful year in many respects. Here was a man with over 40 years of experience to draw upon, and after listening to some of my fellow students recount their experiences of placement, I realised that I'd fallen on my feet.

Minnis Mills was friends with Ian Paisley, and Ian's Father, who had also been a Baptist Minister. He was not a demonstrative preacher; did not shout or walk around like a caged lion; he chose carefully when to raise his voice for maximum affect, and his hands and eyes could tell a story all on their own. He held people's attention by the quality of his words, not through volume or physical activity. He was a kind man who had time for everybody, and though he held to very strong theological views, and could very forcibly put those views over, it was never personal, and was hard to take offence at. As he was immaculate in dress, so he was in words and performance. This was a man worth listening to, and worth following. My privilege was to get to know the public figure, in a personal way.

My fortune was also his mis-fortune, as he took quite ill during the year, which eventually led to his retirement. I'd given some thought as to how the year might work out. Occasionally leading and speaking at services on a Sunday and during the week; visiting the sick and meeting with the Pastor to see how things were going. It turned out however to be quite different, and for me, the best experience anyone could hope to have. The arrangement was that Minnis would take a service if he felt up to it, and on occasions he did. However, on many other occasions I would get a call an hour before to say that he was not well enough, and could I do it. It was here that I learned to think on my feet, and to keep a few ideas up my sleeve, just in case.

Getting to know him personally was mainly through visiting him at his home, and talking to him for perhaps a couple of hours at a time. During every visit you were accorded the traditional Belfast welcome from his wife, with the finest cups and saucers, and plates of sandwiches, cakes and tray bakes. I've no idea what his politics were, as we never discussed it, though I suspect he was strongly for the Union. From him I learnt about humanity, and the importance of every human being. I learnt about dignity and humility, though I haven't always manged to live up to those lessons learnt. About three years after leaving theological college, and following a none too successful stint in England, I became his Pastor at Orangefield Baptist Church, a role I felt unworthy to perform, and there's no false modesty intended here. Though a small man, his legacy was huge, but he couldn't have been more encouraging and supportive. He died in 1982, and the loss was immeasurable.

What he would think of my current position on religion is anyones guess, but though he would no doubt be disappointed, he would not condemn; he would simply and calmly try to persuade me back to the 'truth'. His eyes would also say it all. My gripe with religion is not to be equated with having a gripe against everyone who holds to religion. People like Minnis Mills show all that is good about mankind, and it was my privilege to have known him, learnt from him, and to have been personally and positively influenced by him.

Memories of Belfast - two

Iconic Image of Samson and Goliath Cranes

Belfast sits on a site that has been occupied since the Bronze Age, around 3200-600 BC. It has, however, only become a fairly substantial settlement since the 17th Century.

Cambridge may be a Jewel on the Cam, but Belfast is a Jewel on the Lagan. To take the title of Joshua Levine's journey through the troubles, and narrow it down to Belfast, the City is both 'Beauty' and 'Atrocity'. Both have existed side by side for generations, and I have seen, and experienced both.

While the beauty has always been there, it has been enhanced since the Peace Process. Through the same process, the atrocity has diminished, but unfortunately it has not disappeared. There are still men of violence, albeit few in number, who wish to make life uncomfortable for the majority. My memories are about a small charity working in North Belfast at a troubled interface in the middle to late 1980's. Trying to make a difference; trying to bring hope; trying to build bridges.

A poem by Ciaran Carson called 'Belfast Confetti' sums up for me, something of those times. He describes what the title means. "If there was a riot in the shipyard, they would assemble the collective nuts and bolts, iron bits for this and that and the other thing. 'For we'll throw some Belfast Confetti on them and see how they will be getting on with that'. And the accent comes across, 'Belfast Confetti' - it's not very nice".

"Suddenly as the riot squad moved in, it was raining exclamation marks,

Nuts, bolts, nails, car-keys. A fount of broken type. And the explosion.

Itself - an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst of rapid fire ...

I was trying to complete a sentence in my head but it kept stuttering,

All the alleyways and side streets blocked with stops and colons.

I know this labyrinth so well - Balaclava, Raglan, Inkerman, Odessa Street -

Why can't I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street. Dead end again.

A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face-shields. Walkie-talkies. What is

My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going? A fusillade of question marks".

Antrim Road

My work was mainly around the lower end of the Antrim Road, within the New Lodge and Tigers Bay areas. The road (A6) starts at Clifton Circus, which is just north of the city centre, proceeds upwards through Green Castle, past Belfast Zoo, Glengormley and on to Templepatrick, where the A6 Antrim Road becomes the A6 Belfast Road.

Belfast to Templepatrick is about 13 miles, but I worked in no more that about half a mile of it. The upper Antrim Road was an area full of fine owner occupier houses and an air of affluence. The lower Antrim Road was the opposite, being full of rented properties, many in poor condition, and carrying an air of deprivation and poverty. This was an area generally of low achievement, but of high unrest and anger. This was where I worked.

In my last Blog I spoke more about the political climate, and what it took to carry on with the work. That is exciting and headline-gathering, but to fulfill our mission to make a difference, there had to be work that didn't grab the headlines; that quietly went about its business in dealing with poverty, unemployment, poor educational skills, life skills deficiencies and lack of social interaction. My job was to ensure that all of this could take place; that there were sufficient resources, both financial and human to complete the task; that barriers to success were looked at, and ways devised to bring those barriers down. For some of the work I would have hands-on involvement, for, though I was not short of staff, I enjoyed it, and I have always felt that any CEO needs to see and hear for himself what people feel and need. So, let me start to tell you about some of the work, and carry it on next time. Some of it is not necessarily spectacular, or particularly unique; it just happened to meet a need in a particular area, at a particular time, and I was proud of the projects that were started, of the staff who ran them, and of the people who attended them.

What hope does a child have ......

Literacy was one of the areas to tackle. I didn't have a great education myself, but I did enter the adult world being able to read, write and think for myself. That at least gave me the grounding to make up for early deficiencies later on.

Poor reading and writing skills hold people back from achieving their potential. Through the Action for Community Employment (ACE) programme, I was able to employ a literacy worker.

I was very fortunate to get someone who was a qualified teacher, but who can gone through some difficult times. He was also an excellent artist, as well as someone qualified to supervise gymnasium training. It was like getting three people for the price of one. Not that I took great advantage of that of course - well, perhaps just a little.

One of his pieces of art work is the picture opposite. This is a photograph, which I asked to have of his original six foot canvas painting. The title of the piece somehow seemed to sum up everything that we were about. "What hope does a child have born into a world of poverty, violence and broken glass?" 'What Hope'. Some felt that they had none; others were looking for hope but didn't know where to find it, and we were there to provide that hope.

BBC Micro Computer

I purchased a BBC Micro Computer, with teaching programmes so that the staff member could provided one to one sessions. While this would not reach the numbers that group sessions would, it would be more successful and attractive to individuals who were fearful or embarrassed about being in a programme with others.

The BBC Micro Computer was released in late 1981, and was discontinued in 1994, and in the 12 years of its availability, it sold over 1.5 million. There were nine models produced with the BBC brand, but the term 'BBC Micro' usually refers to the first six models. Now be honest, how many of you knew that?

I only ever saw our literacy project as being a starting point for people. It was to be on safe ground, where people could make a start on the rudiments of learning; gain confidence from their increase in knowledge, and move on to more established, and better funded educational establishments. We're not talking about huge numbers going through our programme, but pre-set targets were reached, and for me, there was great delight in seeing someone develop their literacy abilities.

We'd turned the room behind our social enterprise cafe into a gym for local youths, and the literacy worker spent time there, working with youths; building up relationships and trust, and getting some of them into the literacy programme. It was another lesson to use everything at your disposal to achieve your stated goals.

A service that we provided on another level was the Meals on Wheels service. This was mostly to the New Lodge estate, for elderly, lonely or disabled residents. This was not without occasional excitement.

Before commenting on that, let me give you a bit of history. The first home delivery of a meal on wheels following World War 11 was made by the Women's Volunteer Service (WVS) in Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire in 1947. Many early services used old prams to transport the meals, using straw bales, and even old felt hats, to keep the meals warm while being delivered. There's a bit of social history for you. Most local authorities now have moved away from freshly cooked food delivery, and towards the supply of frozen pre-cooked reheatable meals.

At the time I'm describing it was freshly cooked meals that were delivered. We didn't cook the meals ourselves; we delivered them. You have to understand the fear that many people had of going into some areas in the city, and as we were already going in to the New Lodge, it was arranged that Social Services would deliver the meals in thermos containers, which we would then deliver into the estate, if memory serves me right, on three days a week.

I would never ask my staff to do anything that I was not prepared to do myself, so I took on the duty of delivering 12 - 15 meals a day. Fortunately we had a mini-bus, so I didn't have to use my own car. I met some wonderful people, and had some memorable experiences, all through delivering free meals to the elderly, lonely and disabled. Let me set the scene for you.

On the lower Antrim Road, opposite the New Lodge Road, and next door to our base was an army lookout post. The New Lodge estate had very few access points by road, and the New Lodge Road was the main road in and out. Throughout my time there I was questioned about where I was from because of my lack of a Belfast accent. You need to be aware how sensitive the paramilitaries were about people infiltrating their areas. I always responded that I was Welsh, except when the Welsh Parachute Regiment was in Ulster and occupying the army post. The Paras had a terrible reputation among the Nationalist population, and whenever they were in town, I was English. You learnt very quickly to adapt in Belfast.

Meals were delivered to people either living in terraced houses at the top of the estate, or to those living in the tower blocks at the bottom end. I did not like the tower blocks very much. They were often vandalised, with lifts out of operation, and carrying a meal to the tenth floor played havoc with my fitness levels, as well as my schedule. Even when the lifts were working, graffiti and urine smell was everywhere. The flats that I delivered to couldn't have been more opposite. They were generally immaculate, and the residents were most welcoming; each one would offer tea and tray bakes, which were declined because I would never complete my round. I did go back to some though at a later stage to help with some problem or other, and to this day there is nothing quite like a plate of Ulster tray bakes.

The terraced houses were much easier to deal with, and as with the flats, they were generally immaculate inside and out. In another Blog I'll talk about housing conditions and our programme for decoration, but for now the premises were a delight to visit. I remember delivering a meal to one lady who was in fits of tears. She'd lived in the New Lodge all her life, and she was being asked to move. I wondered where on earth they were moving her to, that brought her to such despair. She lived at the top of the New Lodge Road and was being asked to move to the bottom end of the estate. What would she do without her neighbours and friends? She was moving no more than 500 yards away, but it might as well have been Derry. I learnt something that day about how important territory is; it may be nothing to us, but to others it is everything.

Delivering meals was supposed to be so easy, but I was not prepared for the action of one week, when I felt like someone in on the start of the American Postal Service, where the post must get through. On this occasion, instead of post, it was the meals must get through. I sometimes wonder about my state of mind.

During one summer week, the New Lodge Road had been barricaded by the Paramilitaries, and there was no other way in. This came to my attention when I turned the mini-bus into the New Lodge from the Antrim Road, and was confronted by a group of rather fierce looking men, standing behind a barricade, looking as if they were trying to goad the troops in the army lookout post. Suddenly stopping the bus must have looked suspicious to the protesters and the army, but thankfully the organisations name was on the side of the bus (of course it could have been nicked - I hadn't thought of that). What to do now? The meals must get through. What would John Wayne do? Who cares, he's 6' 4" and can look menacing. I'm 5' 7" and hardly imposing. All of these thoughts are occurring you understand, in a few seconds - I made my decision.

I pulled the bus over and asked to speak to the man in charge. I spoke to someone (I doubt he was the leader), and explained who I was and what I was doing. I remember talking about serving their community; of the fact that elderly and disabled residents were waiting for possibly the only meal they would be getting that day. God I was good. I thought about saying that perhaps one of the people was their Grandma or Granda, but that would be pushing the emotional lever a bit too far. Anyway, ten minutes later the barrier was parted enough for me to get the bus through (who knows what the army were thinking as they were watching all of this - would I get a visit from them later on?). Though I had the distinct feeling that I was followed to make sure that I was who I said I was, the deliveries went smoothly. The people who I delivered to were very sweet, for having heard about the barricades, didn't think that they would be getting meals that day, and how did I manage it? I thought of John Wayne again (worrying?), "A man's got to do what a man's got to do". But of course I didn't say that, I just thought something like it. I got out of the estate the same way, and with as much confidence as I could muster, I said that I'd be back at the same time on Wednesday and Friday. Getting back to the office, I was knackered with the tension. This was not bravery, and looking back on it, is was quite stupid, and could have gone horribly wrong, but hey ho, you make decisions at the time and have to live with the consequences of those decisions.

What would happen on Wednesday and Friday? Something remarkable. I pulled up; they checked who I was, and allowed me through with a wave. Human beings just never cease to amaze me.

As they say at the end of some TV programmes, "To be continued".

Northern Ireland - a few days of sadness

Belfast Riot 20th June 2011

While in town today, I treated myself to lunch. Jacket potato, chicken curry and a side salad. Very filling, very nice and just £3. The news came on the television, and there was a report of last night's riot in East Belfast. I thought, 'Oh no, not again'. The pictures on screen (see above) could have come from any time over the last 40 years.

On returning home, I checked out the various news outlets to see what was being said, and a familiar story unfolded. The riot happened in the Lower Newtownards Road area of East Belfast, with the main target being the Short Strand district. The BBC reported that "a large group of masked loyalists rioted overnight in the Lower Newtownards Road attacking police vehicles with petrol bombs as well as homes in east Belfast's Short Strand area". Up to 500 people were involved in the rioting, and it seems as if shooting was heard from both sides. For those unfamiliar with the geography of this area, the Short Strand is a mainly Nationalist (Catholic) area with a population of about 3,000. It is surrounded by a generally Unionist (Protestant) population of about 80,000. The inter-face between the two communities has always been tense.

One of the Councillors based in the Short Strand is Niall O Donnghaile (Sinn Fein), who is also this years Lord Mayor of Belfast (incidentally the youngest Belfast Mayor ever at 25). Sinn Fein believe that the rioting was orchestrated by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), and this was also the view of the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). The UVF is supposed to have declared a ceasefire. Mr O Donnghaile says, "There is no doubt that this was unprovoked and was a carefully orchestrated and planned attack on this area". The Ulster Unionist, Michael Copeland, while not denying UVF involvement said that he believed the violence followed attacks on Protestant-owned homes in the Lower Newtownards Road. So it was retaliation.

There you have the classic Ulster position. It was "them" who started it, not "us". As ever, the BBC Ireland Correspondent, Mark Simpson summed it up beautifully. "The riot in east Belfast was another reminder that Northern Ireland has a peace process but it does not have peace". The process is moving forward, in spite of the efforts of those from both sides to de-rail it, and the process must continue, even if, god forbid, a few generations must pass before true peace is accomplished.

Lord Mayor Niall O Donnghaile

While last night's riot in East Belfast is disturbing, it is unfortunately something that does occur from time to time. Without any apology, I say that of far more sorrow to me was the report published a few days ago in Northern Ireland on the suicide rate in 2010.

A total of 313 deaths were recorded as suicides, which is the highest number ever recorded in Northern Ireland for a single year. I came across this figure while reading a website article by the Mayor of Belfast. He said, "Last year 313 people took their own life which is a record for the North. I am extremely concerned that many of those who died were young people who came from social disadvantaged areas. This year has also seen the highest number of maternal suicides with five women taking their own lives, which is an extremely worrying development, and shows that more needs to be done to support new mothers. Areas of North and West Belfast have nearly twice the death rate through suicide as the rest of the North, and young males are particularly at risk. ... We need to look at ways of combating this in a way that encompasses all agencies working together, rather than the piecemeal approach currently taken".

Of the 313 deaths, 240 were males and 73 were females, with the most common age group being between 25 and 34, though 1 in 8 deaths were in the over 60's age group. The report was presented by The Institute of Public Health, and its Associate Director, Owen Metcalfe said, "Men's health issues in times of economic recession are made more difficult by their tendency to take fewer health preventative measures, and be less likely to seek support. The combination of perceived inadequate service responses and the reluctance of many men to communicate their problems mean that a large proportion of more critical effects are undoubtedly hidden". The report linked unemployment and the current economic climate to the rise in mental health problems in men in Northern Ireland. High stress levels, over-use of alcohol and drugs, relationship problems and isolation were among the main causes.

To cover the period 2006 - 2011, The Northern Ireland Suicide Prevention Strategy and Action Plan was produced, called "Protect Life - a shared vision". While being a fine document, it is clearly not working, and perhaps the Mayor is right when he mentions the "piecemeal approach currently taken". Northern Ireland has a population of around 1.7 million, and while suicide rates as a percentage of the population (0.018%) are on a par with the Republic of Ireland and Scotland, they are way too high. Looking at the figures for the last few years tells us that we are not getting to grips with the problem. With suicide figures in brackets, we can note the following: 2005 (231); 2006 (291); 2007 (242); 2008 (282); 2009 (260); 2010 (313).

I find it interesting to compare these figures with those who took their lives during 'the troubles'. In April 1991, The Ulster Medical Journal (Volume 60, number 1), published an article where researchers examined methods of suicide between 1964 and 1988. During that 24 year period, 2168 people committed suicide, which is an average of 90 per year. However, in the early to middle 1970's, at the height of the troubles, the rate was just 50 per year. So, since the end of years of escalating violence, the suicide rate has increased dramatically, and largely in the same areas that felt the full brunt of violence.

Thankfully, attitudes to suicide have changed over the centuries. LaRita Archibold, in an excellent summary of attitudes, called "Religious Reflections on Suicide" says, "Legal and social attitudes about suicide throughout history evolved from canonical law. During the Middle Ages, the suicide was deemed as low as the lowest criminal, and was discouraged by exhibition and desecration of the body, defamation of the memory and confiscation of the estate by the government, leaving the surviving family ostracized and destitute. Attempters (of suicide) were punished by flogging, imprisonment and were stripped of all social and financial assets. Desecration of the corpse and forfeiture of estate were not legally abolished in England until 1823. In 1961, England repealed its law making attempted suicide a crime". So, only 50 years ago it would have been a crime to attempt suicide.

Unfortunately, there is however still a stigma associated with suicide which presents a large barrier to giving help. There is an excellent website called "Stamp out Suicide", and in trying to explain stigma it says, "Death is not something we discuss in everyday conversation. We do not feel comfortable in the knowledge that we will die someday and so such conversations are not commonplace. Indeed, given that we are driven by our survival instinct, is it little wonder we find it particularly difficult to comprehend when we hear that someone has taken their own life? Because people do not feel comfortable talking about death, and because there is a stigma associated with suicide, people who are suicidal may withhold their feelings and not seek help. This presents a major problem".

Arguably, there is more isolation than there has ever been, and the reasons for suicide are many and varied. However, there is one thing that all people either attempting, or committing suicide have in common; they can see no way forward except to take their life. They are feeling down, distressed and depressed, and what they need is empathy, help and support. Men, notoriously see it as a weakness to share their feelings, and so hide what they are going through from those around them. In a distressed state, we cannot see a way forward on our own, but there can be a way, but it might need others to show us that way. There are no easy answers, and I wouldn't pretend to have any, but it's a truism to say "that once a suicide is completed, there is no cure". We all can play a part by watching out for family, friends and neighbours; get over the stigma and be available to provide help.

So, in East Belfast, rioters were engaged in summer rituals of hating your neighbour, while individuals in the same city are struggling with how to get through today.

"Although we live in an ever changing world, showing compassion must never go out of fashion".

Memories of Belfast - one

River Lagan and the Waterfront

I have loved Belfast since I first moved there in 1970. Two of my three sons were born there, and the youngest still lives in the City. My other son was born in Suffolk, just so that he doesn't feel left out. To this day I am still ashamed of the way that I left everything that I loved in 1989, but that story is not for public consumption.

I think though, that it has been that shame that has prevented me from talking about aspects of my work experiences in Belfast. It's as if I have no right to have memories about that place. So, why the change? I've just started to read a book by Joshua Levine called 'Beauty & Atrocity', which is exploring people, politics and Ireland's fight for peace. It made me remember that I have been part of this history, and though that part was very small, it was something significant to me.

As it seems with all great cities, Belfast has a river running through it's heart - the River Lagan. The city is flanked on the north and northwest by a series of hills, including Divis Mountain, Black Mountain and Cavehill. This latter hill is thought to be the inspiration for Jonathan Swift's, Gulliver's Travels. When Swift was living at Lilliput Cottage near the bottom of the Limestone Road in Belfast, he imagined that the Cavehill resembled the shape of a sleeping giant safeguarding the city. The shape of the giant's nose is known locally as 'Napoleon's Nose'. The Castlereagh Hills overlook the city on the southeast. One of my favourite descriptions about Belfast comes from the former poet and Catholic Bishop of Down and Connor, Dr William Philbin, who said, "Belfast is a city walled in by mountains, moated by seas, and undermined by deposits of history". Belfast today is very different from the Belfast of the 1970's and 1980's.

174 Antrim Road (not there now)

My purpose is not to talk about the city, as much as I would like to, but to focus on a smaller area where I worked, namely the New Lodge Area, Tiger's Bay and the Mount Vernon area of North Belfast.

I was appointed as Director of a fairly new Christian based charity to begin to address the real needs of those living in a materially and socially disadvantaged area. The mission was to effect change in North Belfast by social action and community development, so that North Belfast would become a place of co-operation, prosperity and hope. Having looked at the Trust's current website, I'm very pleased to see that it is still thriving, and carrying on with its original aims.

The base was the above cafe, with offices and other rooms on the upper floors. The cafe would now be called a social enterprise, and served as a real focal point for the work. In a room behind the main cafe was a space that I turned into a small gym, as I've always believed in the value of having somewhere where testosterone filled individuals can find a legitimate outlet for their aggression. The few years spent at this charity was undoubtedly the most taxing, demanding, challenging and rewarding of my life.



New Lodge Road looking from the Antrim Road

Looking from the cafe doorway you could see down the start of the New Lodge Road. The estate was named after this road. The 1880's was the period when the estate was developed; it was also the time when Belfast changed from being a town and became a city, gaining the charter in 1888.

Originally the New Lodge Road was even longer, but in time the upper section was changed to the Cliftonville Road. The north side of the estate was bordered by Duncairn Gardens, which on the opposite side of the road housed Tiger's Bay. The New Lodge was strongly republican (catholic) and Tiger's Bay was strongly loyalist (protestant). Duncairn Gardens was often the scene of trouble between the two communities. It is interesting that as New Lodge developed in the late 1800's and early 1900's, it was very much a protestant area. This remained the case leading up to, and after the partition of Ireland in 1922. Civil war erupted in Belfast in 1920, and over the following two years many tragic deaths were recorded. By the time I worked in the area, sectarianism was rife, with entrenched positions being taken by different communities. The corner of the New Lodge Road and Antrim Road, just opposite our base, was statistically the most dangerous spot to stand at in Northern Ireland - mainly due to 'drive-by shootings'.

Modern Day Mural

The whole area did not score well in Northern Ireland's Index of Multiple Deprivation, and it still doesn't. Take the New Lodge as an example; unemployment rate among men was 56%; 15% had no recognised educational qualifications; 84% had no transport of their own; 20% of all murders committed during the last thirty years of the troubles occurred within a one-mile radius of our base; 70% of the local school population was entitled to free school meals. It was the fifth most deprived of Northern Ireland's 582 wards.

Add political turmoil to social deprivation, and it's no wonder that areas such as these were like a powder keg waiting to blow. The presence of factions within the paramilitary groupings did not help when you were trying to get work done. In the New Lodge, Lepper Street separated the top from the bottom of the estate. One half was controlled by the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA), and the other half by the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA). Tiger's Bay, being a loyalist area had a reputation for being a notorious Ulster Defence Association     (UDA) stronghold. Given the social and political nature of this area, how would we effect change by social action and community development?

The cafe, elderly groups, youth work, groups to integrate disabled and able bodied people, family and toddler groups were all great at meeting, and building relationships with small groups of people - the value of which cannot be underestimated. However, I wanted more, something on a bigger scale that would take us out of our comfort zone, and present a challenge.

This soon began to happen. The Government, through the Northern Ireland Department for Economic Development (DED) had introduced an employment creation scheme called Action for Community Employment (A.C.E.). It was designed for anyone who had been unemployed for over six months. Over a short period, I managed to build an ACE workforce of over 70 people, to complement the permanent staff employed by the Trust. You could employ people for up to one year, and foremen for up to two years. You had to provide meaningful work, pay a set wage, provide training, and help them to secure employment at the end of the period. I wanted a challenge, and by god I got one. The work was mainly divided into gardening services and home decorating services, but also included office work.

As the Government were very sensitive to the political and religious make-up of Northern Ireland, our ACE workforce had to reflect that. At the time, Northern Ireland was largely 66% protestant and 34% catholic, so my workforce had to be the same, reflected in full and part time workers. It's a good job that I've always been quite good with figures, as I needed to be. The DED were very hot on monitoring, and checked quotas on a quarterly basis. Because we were a cross community organisation, trying to break down the barriers between 'waring' communities, my dream was to have people working in areas that were foreign to them. Many of the younger workers did confess that they had never spoken to, or mixed with someone from the 'other side'. Once we got going, there was never a shortage of work.

What I never told my bosses, or my staff, and in fact I don't think I've told anyone until now, was the amount of work that I had to do with the leaders of the various communities (ie paramiliatories) to ensure the safety of staff working in those areas. I had to put to one side their reputations for mayhem, and think of them as a residents association. I needed their support, because with it, no-one would dare go against it. I would explain that we would be doing good within their community, tidying up the gardens of the elderly and the disabled, as well as improving the homes of those who were struggling with life. I wanted them also to not action the £10 per week that they 'asked' every worker in the area to pay into the funds.

Believe me, if you think that some of my blogs are a bit OTT, you should have heard me then, but it worked. We could do our stuff in their areas. I should also point out that in addition to this, I made a point of trying to speak to as many wives, mothers and grandmothers as I could, as believe me, there is nothing more formidable than a group of Belfast women on the march, and I say that with great affection. In the following years, not one worker was hurt while working in an area that was foreign to them. While on the subject of seeking co-operation, I'm not ashamed to say that I sought the help of Sinn Fein whenever anything was stolen from the Trust. This didn't happen often, surprisingly, but I remember two occasions when a ladder and a calor gas heater were stolen. I went down to the local Sinn Fein office in the New Lodge, and something caught my eye which I decided to use. Being a Christian based organisation we would have posters about the centre. One of them said, "Jesus will set you free". A poster in the Sinn Fein office was one of ours, but Jesus had become Sinn Fein. My laughing off the 'theft' of our poster had the desired effect, and the stolen items (I let them keep the poster) were returned within 24 hours, with no harm done to the thieves as I had requested. Some may question the morality of this; shouldn't I have gone to the Police? The Police had more important things to contend with, like staying alive, rather than worry about a ladder and heater. In the end the community dealt with the problem.

In spite of no harm coming to workers, I eventually had to abandon the idea of workers working in 'other' areas, as the fear of violence had reared its ugly head. A number of workers on the ACE programme had been killed, but not while doing work for us. They were killed in their own homes by gunmen, or were victims of drive-by shootings. This fear was understandable, and I changed policy to deal with that fear. Their lives were more important than my ideals. There were periods when the whole city was very tense, and this made work quite difficult at times. Occasionally I would personally receive threats of a vague nature, usually through a third party, and I did take to varying my route from home to work each day, as well as looking under my car for bombs before going home each night. This may sound a bit dramatic now, but it was what many people had to do in those days. What didn't help to ease the fears of staff was the day when a Molotov cocktail was thrown through the office window. Actually I need to clarify that. Would be thugs were often not the sharpest knives in the box, and on this occasion the wick fell out before the bottle crashed through the window. Humour can deflect panic, and we did laugh at this. It's a bit like the story (myth) of a group hijacking a bus, covering it in petrol, and then realising that no one had brought any matches with them. See what I mean about the sharpest knives in the box?

The ACE workers were a mixed bunch, from the really nice ones, who just wanted to get on and make something of their lives, to the frightful ones, who were only there because of the threat of losing their benefits. A large proportion of the former ones, unsurprisingly, we were able to help find them jobs at the end of their time with us. The latter ones were generally inept, were dangerous, played pranks and generally messed about, though we managed to turn some of them around by the end of their year. Those who just messed about spent more time in my office being spoken to, or disciplined than on the job I think, and there was a period when I seemed to be sacking about two a week. Thankfully it was not all like that, and mostly the programme was a success, with people learning to do a good job, and moving on to other work. This was always very pleasing.

I've just noticed that this blog is getting a bit long, and there's so much more to say about working in that area of Belfast. Perhaps that will have to wait for another time. Though spending so much time in deprived and politically troubled areas, I never lost my love for the city or the surrounding areas. It was this mix of the beauty and the beast that was so exciting. Let me end with a picture of the Stormont building, built in 1932, which is the home of the Northern Ireland Assembly. Isn't it just beautiful?

Quiz question. How many international state Presidents have been born in Belfast?
Answer.

1. Mary McAleese - President of Ireland
2. Chaim Herzog - 6th President of Israel from 1983 to 1993 was born at Clifton Avenue, the son of a Belfast Rabbi

An Afternoon of Pleasure in Nottingham

Nottingham Parade 8th May 2011

I'd enjoyed my usual Sunday afternoon walk through the Arboretum, and was sitting quietly by Main Marion Way waiting for the time of my next bus home. From the bottom of Maid Marion Way came the unmistakable sound of a marching band.

Into view it came, headed by policemen and women, who though were there to direct the traffic, seemed to march along themselves to the sound of the beat. The picture shows the beginning of the parade, and I did wonder why more people were not following it. The answer came a few moments later, as the ages of participants got younger and younger, and the size of them got smaller and smaller. The following crowds were obviously family and friends of the youngest members, and there were so many of them for a few minutes that it was difficult to see the parade.

I think that the parade was made up of adult and child members of the Boy's Brigade and the Girl's Brigade, as I thought I recognised what banners I could see. The Boy's Brigade was formed sometime around the 1850's, and is very much a uniformed Christian youth organisation . The Boy's Brigade in Northern Ireland is the largest male uniformed Christian youth organisation in the UK.

The twirling batons, drums, cymbals, trumpets, and an instrument I can't remember the name of, all contrived to make a familiar and pleasant sound. Near the back of the band were to be found the youngest members blowing on their trumpets, and I must say, surprising as it is for me to acknowledge, it was all very nice in the warm afternoon sunshine. An afternoon of pleasure in Nottingham to be sure.

When the band had past, and the sound was disappearing up the Derby Road, I began to think back over the years about my attitude to marching bands and uniformed organisations. I must have been insufferable in my conviction that I was right, and ignored history, culture and the views of others.

My first taste of marching bands was in 1971, my first full Summer in Belfast, and the Protestant 12th July parades. We made our way to the Lisburn Road, what turned out to be hours before the parade came along so that we could get a good view from the front of the pavement.

It was certainly a spectacular event that went on for hours; band after band, seemingly playing the same tune, and the leader of each band vying with each other to see who could throw the baton the highest and catch it on the way down. Some of the marchers had obviously imbibed a bit too much alcohol before the march began, and a little too much more during the march. If I was honest, twenty minutes in to the parade and I was bored stiff. There's only so many bands you can see in one afternoon, and in the next 18 years, I never saw another 12th July parade. I did catch some of the mini-12th July parades in East Belfast, but they were much smaller, and I could escape easily. I was never at ease with the whole notion of the parades really when we were to "Remember 1690". All I wanted to do was forget being shackled by history, and move on, but what did I know, as I was constantly reminded, I was from "across the water". And here I was, enjoying a parade in Nottingham. Who'd have thought it?

Boy's Brigade Logo

In the 1970's and 1980's I was firstly connected with, and later became the minister of an evangelical Church in Belfast. Some of the Elders, and a number of the congregation had been members of the Boy's Brigade in their youth.

They supported the idea of having something similar in our Church. I was adamant that I would have no uniformed organisation, with all of its military connotations in my Church. How insufferable is that? As if a healthy, wholesome and disciplined programme was going to turn these children and young people into rampant aggressors. But that's how I felt at the time. Now I was gazing upon a uniformed marching band with almost dewy eyes. Who'd have thought it?

So thank you to members of the Boy's Brigade and Girl's Brigade for bringing an afternoon of pleasure to Nottingham.