Dietze, Troubled by Belfast

"Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war 

'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar 

And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through 

While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew" 

- "The Foggy Dew" by Canon Charles O'Neill 

There is a man wearing a black cloth ski mask aiming an assault rifle, watching you wherever you go with omniscient eyes and a green army suite. Today, he is made from some kind of acrylic paint on a mural in the west side of Belfast. Though just a few years ago hundreds like him scattered the city patrolling citizen’s every move in support of Ulster loyalism. I’m told this masked man upon the building is known as the Ulster Freedom Fighter or as my tour guide failingly jokes, the Belfast Mona Lisa.

As we continued on the tour, I see that the city looks abandoned. The ‘temporary’ peace wall  stands as it did in its uprising in 1969, protected by concrete blocks and barbered wire dividing the Protestant unionists and the Catholic nationalists. I see a group of middle-aged tourists with cameras dangling from their necks go up to the wall and scribble their names upon it like a bathroom stall door. The wall is covered in a slew of handwritings mostly with names or lover’s initials, and the occasional “unity” or “peace.”  Amongst the decrepitated wall and ornate graffiti, a quote from the Dalai Lama is stamped upon, reading “Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.” Contradictory, I thought. The island is divided between those who accepted change to the British rule and those who stood for the values of a unified Ireland. Could there really be this balance with this inescapable concrete wall standing between them?

On the east side, the wind bustles through the air catching the British flags blowing them back and forward, then back again in a patriotic dance. I’m told they will be taken down after the summertime Orange parade, but I think the impression will still stand with or without the decorations. Murals of political prisoners, martyrs for the cause, and hunger strikers resonate through the walls of the city’s buildings. On the west side, broken letters hang from store titles, trash is left on the ground, and run-down thrift stores occupy the empty streets. Wherever I look I see scars of terrorism and political warfare. 

In the distance, hills look down upon Belfast and I wonder what the town would look like if it was better kept with a more efficient street cleaning service or building restorations. It sure wasn’t like the air in Dublin and even the accents had hints of English in them. Their murals represent past heroes and martyrs for the cause, and I can't help to think they could benefit from looking to the future for hope instead of its past.