Sometimes you don't know how things will effect you till you see/do that thing first hand. It is hard to understand emotions when the play so strongly among your thoughts.
Yesterday my class and I went on a day trip to Derry, Co. Londenderry, UK. Aka northern Ireland. I seriously don't know where to begin on how this left me in an emotional standstill. As I said in the previous post that I would be spending the night there. After going to where we did yesterday I got so depressed that I couldn't even fatham being by myself there. I did what was best for my mental health and came home with the rest of the class.
I just start at the beginning I guess. We made our way to the guildhall (city hall) in Derry after a long ass bumby as hell bus ride. I haven't gotten that car sick since I was a young teen. After my stomach turned into normal again we met our tour guide Rory. He let us into the guildhall to use the bathroom. I snuck around to take some pictures of the building. A sweet old man let myself and fellow classmate into a dance hall. At the one end of the dance hall was the most amazing organ I have ever seen. It was from ceiling to floor and was up on a balcony. It had over 3124 pipes and cost 20,000 pounds to construct back when it was made.
From there we left on our tour of Free Derry. We were told that Derry was made up of two sides one being the more prominent Catholic side and the other Protestant side. You can tell which side was which by the curbs of the road. The Protestant sides curb was painted the colors of the British Flag (RED BLUE AND WHITE) the Catholic side is painted with the colors of the Irish Flag (ORANGE GREEN AND WHITE)
Rory took us over one of the city walls that led to the bog side. The Bogside is where Bloody Sunday took place. As we came over the crest of the wall and down the stairs into the Bogside I was the first Mural.
*People over the last 40 years have made murals of accounts from the Troubles. Which scatter the side of buildings and houses in the Bogside. To check out the Murals check my facebook photos which will be posted soon!
The first mural made me choke and lose all air I had in my lungs. This made where I was, what I had learned extremely really in my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to go and hug that mural.
The mural is called Death of Innocence and it is a painting Annette McGavigan. She was 14 when she was brutally shot on September 6, 1971 outside of her home in the Bogside. She was coming home from school thus is why she was in her school uniform. When the mural was first painted the gun on the left and butterfly in the circle were left undone. The artist said that he wouldn't fill it in until peace had come over this troubled land. As of this day both things are filled in with bright hues!
We made our way around the murals and the only one I didn't get to see was the one that had all the portraits of the 13 that died the day of Bloody Sunday. After seeing all of these fantastic but heartwrenching pieces of art I knew I should not be alone. I went up to take a picture of the Death of Innocence mural up close and I burst into tears. I know I wasn't there and people who were there knew way more than I did. I still felt as if a piece of my heart was ripped out and fell on the floor at Annettes feet. She looked so peaceful in the painting. Even now I feel like crying. I have a feeling those murals will haunt me for a long time.
After this we went to lunch at the cutural center. Meh it was lunch! WOOT!
Then we made our way to the Tower Museum which shows the history of Derry from the beginning. That was interesting don't get me wrong but on the way to the museum I spoted where the Museum of Free Derry was. The Bloody Sunday Museum! After hastely yet occasionally stopping to look at something, made my way through the museum I found my teacher and ask if myself and friend could go there. She told us as long as we came back in time to meet the bus we were fine.
We made our way back to the museum and I can't begin to explain this experience. The main currator of the Museum is John Kelly the older brother of Michael Kelly. One of the 13 that were gunned down on BSunday.
Over the loadspeakers the played the Audio of Bsunday and had TV's showing the actual video of the day. All along the museum was just littered of things from the day. Clothing worn by the actual men who had died. The Derry Civil Rights Association Banner that is covered in the dry blood of the many who had touched it. One of the men who died was shot in the head and they used that banner to cover him until he could be reached by the priest. The had the white hanky that Father Daly used the wave in surrender while they tried to carry Jackie Duddy across the gun zone. They have the white crosses that were placed along side the road for the time after Bsunday.
At the end of the tour John came over to show us his brother. (At the beginning he told us that he had a sibling die in BSunday and I thought it rude to ask who) He was very open about the whole experience and he just outright pointed out the picture of his brother dying on the ground while people surrounded him. John himself was right across the street when his brother was shot and didn't know that his brother had been shot for at least fifteen to twenty minutes. John explained how BSunday was for him and I don't want to share what he said because although he was very open I would like to respect his privacy as well as his families. John has given me a new perspective on life and I feel very honored to have met him.
He gave us a map of where the people had died and as soon as we walked out of the museum right at the door was where two people had died. You turn the corner there was another six death zones. I walked on the streets that had torment and tears. That forever since they have a March every Jan 30th to remember. I plan to go back to Derry in 2012 to march in the 40th anniversy march. This isn't a I want to trip it is I'm going to do this!
On the way back just listening to shuffle Sunday Bloody Sunday came up on my music player. I listened to that on repeat until I got back home. I silently cried all the way home because I was there and it was now so really to me. As soon as I got home I left again to the beach. Somewhere I could scream and not be heard. I cried and screamed for all the hate I felt for that day. I cried on behalf of those who had died. I screamed in anger at all the para's who had shot thos innocent people.
Lets just say yesterday changed my life. How I don't know exactly but it will take more for me to come to terms with what went down yesterday. For now I'm alright.
