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I
had a walk down the Grosvenor Road yesterday to see
my sister, to the place I was born, to the place my
father brought up six children on his own, to a place
I spent almost four years on the run, a place where
we fought the B Specials, RUC, British Army, British
Intelligence, and undercover killers. A place where
poor people left their front and back doors open.
A place where you had to get to know every yard wall
in the event of a Brit army raid. A place where we
had great hopes of our Republic.
But
it had all changed. I saw nice new houses. No more
yard walls; one way in and one way out. Most of the
old people who had fed and looked after us, gone,
dead and buried. The old people's home knocked down,
leaving a wide open space, being prepared for the
next rogue builder to come in and build some cheap
houses for the poor people of this area. But what
struck me was the view the place had left for us to
see and wonder at.
Towering
above the small and neat houses, like two giants protecting
those who can afford entry into their bellies; reminding
us that we are in the place we belong. The giants
even have their names boldly written across their
foreheads - Europa and Russell Court. It reminds me
of a time I sailed into Cape Town on a merchant ship.
The imposing table top mountain towering above - beautiful
sight. A sight that cried out for you to come up and
see.
That
is, until you step off the ship and witness the ugly
feet of this mountain. The poor, the hungry, the poverty
this great beauty hides. Before leaving the ship we
are told to stay away from the shantytowns, and especially
stay away from 'District 6' as I'm sure many visitors
to our Europa are told when they arrive in Belfast.
Of course many things have changed in South Africa,
many things have changed in the North. But have they?
Yes,
for some! But for the majority of people, poor people,
here and in South Africa, nothing much has changed.
We still have the rogue employer, maybe a different
colour, maybe a different religion. We are allowed
to climb the mountain but few can afford to do so.
Few people living under the shadow of the Europa can
afford to spend one night in its belly.
We
spend billions of pounds each year on weapons. Each
year millions of children die both from hunger, and
from the weapons we spend billions on. More often
than not whether in Western Europe, South Africa or
Palestine the biggest rogue employers are the people
tasked with governing us.
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