Story about Northern Ireland by Kay Karriem (South Africa)

You say troubles, we said unrest. We had apartheid and you have religion, so different and yet so the same. Or is it? A representative of the DUP went to great lengths to point out that despite the superficial similarities, Northern Ireland was not South Africa. And that was about the only thing the two of us would ever agree on, if for completely different reasons.

I had been eagerly anticipating my trip to Northern Ireland, after all I felt a connection with the place, albeit a very disturbing one. But I had seriously underestimated the effect it would have on me personally. An interesting intellectual exercise, I thought, and at least I was assured of meeting interesting people - one thing about societies like ours, the people are rarely boring.

Sitting around a conference table in the rather impressive parliament buildings in Belfast, I felt it in my lower back first - a small, yet distinct and painful twinge of recognition. It came back to me with a rush of blood to the head. I was hot and my skin was tingling. Amazing really. That after all these years it could still affect me in this manner.

When the representative from the DUP was outlining the party's policies, there was something so familiar in the tone and speech that took me back ten years in an instant. I was getting mad and very frustrated -- I could feel it. He was not making sense. There was absolutely no will to achieve a lasting peace - at least not if it could not be on his terms.

And again I realised that I do not understand how the Northern Irish got themselves into this situation. Of course I know about the political realities and the violence between Catholics and Protestants. After all I translated many a story about Sinn Fein, the IRA and the Good Friday Peace Agreement I knew the facts, but I did not understand it, still do not.

I grew up in a totally segregated society, discrimination and oppression was a way of life and so was the struggle against it. If anyone could understand the Northern Ireland situation, you think a South African would. But from my arrival in Belfast this "religious apartheid" was foreign to me. In my mind it is quite understandable that white people can discriminate against blacks and want to oppress us, because we are so obviously different. On the face of it there was to me, certainly no difference between the Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, I could not tell them apart quite honestly - everyone was white.

Everyone kept assuring me, though that there were ways to tell the difference. All you needed was a name and an address and then you could venture an educated guess.

Apparently many conversations start with a round of who, what or where questions, just to make sure you do not inadvertently start off on the wrong foot.

And here I always thought the thing with discrimination was that you should be able to differentiate between you and "the other" instantly - like black v. white, Christian v. Moslem etc.

It was all really disturbing really. Even the way the two sides were trying to convince outsiders that the conflict as such did not affect the everyday relationships between ordinary people. Everyone was getting on rather well really. Yet five minutes into any conversation and you realise that this collective denial must be the order of the day, because it was clear that each and everyone's life in Northern Ireland was fundamentally tainted by the conflict.

They spoke in the language of segregation, ill-disguised discrimination and at times naked hatred for the perceived enemy. "You can't just take any taxi around here," I heard upon inquiring why somebody did not just hail the first available cab on the street. And it's always us and them, whether you are talking about houses or schools and especially when you talk about the police.

If any single thing rocked (or should it be shocked?) South Africa out of denial, it was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. There is something about people telling their stories in their own words that makes the pain and perversion undeniable.

I do not know how the Northern Irish feel about having a Truth and Reconciliation Commission similar to the South African one. I suspect that there would be a lot of opposition to the idea. It wasn't popular in South Africa either. None of the big political players were happy to have there soiled laundry aired in front of a world audience, but I suspect that like South Africa, Northern Ireland needs a proper spiritual cleaning. And closure from the past most of all, because without it the future is doomed.

ONE very big difference to the South African situation was definitely the proximity of the opposing neighbourhoods. In South Africa the apartheid government would never dream of having black neighbourhoods so close to white one's. The relatively flimsy peace lines, would simply not offer enough insurance in our case. Again, something I do not understand. The only way to really defeat fear, and to be honest that is the real cause of discrimination and oppression, is to be exposed to the other group, to live with them and to interact with them. Knowledge is power and in a segregated society it is the only way to real freedom. That's why I could not understand that people who lived in such close proximity could not get this knowledge and in fact could not be further apart.

But by far the biggest and saddest difference between Northern Ireland and South Africa (in the last years before the end of apartheid, I must say) is the lack of political leadership to find a lasting solution. Northern Ireland definitely has no Nelson Mandela, and perhaps even more telling - it has no FW de Klerk. Compromise has to come from both sides if there is to be lasting change and when one side refuses to budge, it's just a matter of time when you are going backward instead of forward.

Yes, there are fundamental differences between the situations in the two countries, one of which is the involvement of the British government, but mothers worrying about their children getting home safely and having a future in the country of their birth, is the same everywhere.

I had the privilege of speaking to a mother that lost her son in the troubles and again it was evident that while the perpetrators would vehemently deny having any likeness to the opposing group, the victims are always the same. They are always human and they are the ones who are the biggest losers, because loss knows no colour or religion.