At times you wonder

During a recent radio discussion, the topic of rural Ireland came into the conversation. I have been very critical of rural Ireland in recent times and the reaction to my comments and opinions did nothing to change my attitudes.

Let’s cut to the chase here and get the obvious stuff out of the way first.

Ireland, in the 21^st century, is a much different place than the Ireland of yesteryear. I see Ireland as a progressive nation, entering a crucial stage in its economic and social development. The world around us is changing on a daily basis and whether we like it or not, we are at their mercy. Issues such as Brexit, global issues, such as the upheaval in the Middle East for example, have the capacity to derail any progress we have made as a nation.

We also live in a nation, where most economic activity, government, media and major investment is city based, in particular towards our capital city Dublin.

There is a general consensus among Dublin based people that once you reach the M7 or M8 motorway, Ireland ceases to exist. Lots of people, in our capital city for example, don’t realise that they are only half an hour from a field of cows themselves. London, Paris or New York, they are not I’m afraid.

Some city people like to come across as sophisticated and it can be a little bit irritating. However, by and large, this is the fact of the matter and there’s no escaping it, so most people accept it and get on with it. Most of our population is urban based, the rest of us live in the country, so just build a bridge and get over it.

I say most people, because some people don’t seem to “get” it. Now, in the following, I’m going to be critical of certain parts of rural Ireland, so if you don’t mind, we’ll get another bit of obvious stuff out of the way once again.

The public transport system is non-existent, mainly due to massive underfunding and a failure by successive governments to accept the problem. Crime is on the increase, people are scared in their homes, as criminal gangs operate with impunity. Garda stations are closed down, local focal points such as the Post Office are being closed down. Small businesses, the very fabric of society are struggling, as red tape and astronomical costs, stifle their growth. Farmers are facing a very uncertain future, due to shrinking incomes and issues such as a fodder crisis and increasing costs.

Rural life is NOT the idyllic existence it once was and lots of people are feeling the effects.

These are real issues, affecting real people, living in the real world. Elected representatives have a mandate from the people, in some cases a huge mandate, to bring those issues to cabinet, to highlight the importance of the issues and to attempt in brokering a solution.

Why then, do certain individuals enter our national parliament and behave like village idiots, left out for the day? There is an old Irish saying, which states that “it takes a smart man to act the fool”. Some of these people are pass masters in what some people call “sleeveenism” and while they might appeal to lots of people in the “heartland”, they do a great job in making the rest of us look like mugs and fools.

On the radio program, I was asked for my opinion on drink driving levels and I replied that the only safe drink driving level is ZERO. I don’t believe that there is any possible way to argue this point cohesively and in my opinion, it’s simple and it’s cut and dry. If something impairs your ability to drive safely, it has to be stopped and cut out, end of argument.

This isn’t the “nanny state” talking or attempting to infringe on a person’s “human rights” to have a few pints.  This is about road safety, where in 2017, 159 people were killed on Irish roads. Since records began in 1959, 23,752 people have lost their lives on our roads (Source: http://www.rsa.ie).

As a driver with almost 40 years’ experience on Irish roads, I expect and demand my right to drive in the safest conditions possible. I also expect and demand that the driver approaching me is travelling at a safe speed, that they understand the rules of the road, that their vehicle is in top working order and that they are well and truly lucid and capable.

The Irish road network has improved massively in the last 20 years and we now have a motorway network on a par with anything in the world. Our roads are much safer and while there are exceptions and while lots of work still needs to be done, overall they are a far cry from the roads  I learned to drive on.

It still beggars belief that in an age where the modern vehicle is quite possibly the safest ever created and is an extraordinary feat of human engineering and ingenuity, that ANY people should lose their lives on ANY road. It proves that the weakest link in the chain is indeed, the human at the controls, i.e. the driver.

So, why do politicians deliberately block proposed legislation, to lower the drink driving laws and to cross off another link in the chain of weakness. Arguments are put forward that it might “decimate our small rural communities”. Suggestions are made that people in rural communities can’t exist without a pub to go to. Old men and women are sitting at home looking at the four walls, lonely and bored, because they can’t drive to the local pub, have a few pints and drive home again.

If this isn’t so serious and a downright insult to the people who have lost their lives due to drink driving, or to the families devastated forever, I don’t know what is.

Now before the detractors begin sharpening their pens, or before the keyboard warriors start hammering their keyboards in temper, there are plenty more factors involved in our shocking road carnage statistics. Speed is one of the biggest factors, with mobile phone use and a general inability to drive among the others.

I’ve said this ad infinitum, that Ireland is the only country where you can “fail” your driving test and then drive home again.

No doubt, the politicians return to their communities at the weekends to plenty of backslapping and being told how great they are.  They  went up to the big city and told all the big bad people up there how we are all hard done by “out in the sticks”. “Those meanies in Dublin don’t care about us” they moan and “if we haven’t a few pints to enjoy, sure what’s the point in even getting up in the morning”.

They played the game perfectly, doing the right thing, staying popular and not rocking the boat.

Meanwhile, on planet Earth, where most of us live, it’s another week of nauseating, cringe worthy  embarrassing performances from the corridors of power.

North and South Korea show the first tentative signs of peace, following decades of conflict. In Syria, the innocents play the parts of unwilling pawns, in a deadly game of power and greed. Our nearest neighbours in the UK, wonder how the hell they can solve the Brexit crisis. Even here at home, parents of children with extreme psychological problems, wait until Monday to see a specialist, as the doctors don’t work weekends. Those same parents hold their children’s hands, sitting on a hard chair in a hospital corridor. There are no beds available, nurses are at their wit’s end.

Meanwhile, “the right to drink a few pints and drive home” is what’s considered to be important. “Sure what harm are they doing?”

At times you wonder.

 

 

 

 

Where are they now?

Remember the “migrants” who were drowning on a daily basis in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea last summer. Where are they now?

The migrants, or human beings as we prefer to call them, were displaced from their homes in countries like Afghanistan, Syria, Libya and Yemen. Living through a daily barrage of barrel bombs, missiles and gunfire became a bit of a pain, especially if you had young children or family.

They were continuously advised that it was all for their own good, by Western governments / War Mongers (delete as appropriate). However, witnessing the destruction of their homes and the skin regularly ripped from their children’s bones, as another “smart bomb” missed its target, hitting a school or hospital, they got a bit cheesed off with things and decided to  move.

Surely anything is better than burying a few generations of your family at the same time or watching your child scream, as shrapnel is removed from their frail body.

The West looked like a good option, as they were always saying how much better it was there, so if they could get across the sea, they were home and hosed. Problem was, the Mediterranean is a bit deep, cold, hard to navigate and their sailing skills were a little questionable. Their boats weren’t much cop either, mainly of the type on sale for 10.99 in German discount stores.

2017 was a fairly tough year to be a migrant, with more than 3,100 of them drowning in the waters. Western Governments sent out military vessels, in an effort to help with the crisis that they had created themselves. It was comforting, as a migrant, to hand over your child to a sailor in a haz chem suit, wearing full breathing apparatus, in case he or she was infected by your bugs, or god forbid should you breathe in their general direction. Most people were taken to the mainland, where they were “documented” and in a lot of cases, sent back to where they came from.

Alienated, in a strange country, it wasn’t long until these “migrants” were referred to as Terrorists. You see, the West screwed up their homeland and now they were here, hell bent on revenge and they would blow us all up. Far right groups and media outlets saw an opportunity to whip up hysteria and an already scared population fell for it.

Newsfeeds are filled with video and reports of scores of “migrants” running amok, wreaking havoc on the countries that took them in, despite the fact that they never really wanted to move there in the first place. “All those guys are in fine fettle and should be sent back to wherever they came from” is a regular contribution in the comments section, normally from “anonymous” with an “Ireland for the Irish” profile pic.

Anyway, isn’t it great to know that it’s all finished with, as there are no reports of any “migrants” drowning in the Mediterranean recently. The Western media have stopped reporting on it, so it must be all okay now. Sky News have long taken their reporters home, as it’s a non –story and there are no hour long specials on the crisis.

We’re glad it’s all over and done with and maybe there’s hope for humanity after all.

Oh no, since we finished writing this article, we’ve done some research. According to various websites, a reported 570 “migrants” have drowned so far in 2018. The UNHCR have published a new report, where they estimate it’s 520, According to human rights groups, the numbers of “migrants” reaching Europe is down, but the problem persists.

So, where are they now? Still being bombed in their own country for “their own good”, living in fear, or lying in a watery grave at the bottom of a cruel uncaring sea.

 

A right to choose

This weeks blog has nothing to do with cycling, so my apologies to regular readers in the cycling fraternity. Normal service will resume next issue.

Were you ever driving along in your car, with the radio on, listening to the programme, but still a million miles away? It’s a strange feeling of your body doing all the motions, your mind and brain are doing all the necessary skills required to drive the car, but you’re still that million miles away. It’s like a parallel universe or something and very strange.

The other morning, I was driving to Clonmel (a local town about 10 miles away) and I was listening to a young woman speaking on the radio. The woman’s name is Claire and her story is so fascinating, I’ll post the link on this post, as people really ought to listen to it. It’s tragic, scary and it actually brought a tear to my eye. The interview was also very relevant, as it referred to abortion and to the ongoing debate about the upcoming referendum in Ireland. I would urge people to listen to Claire’s story as it is an eye opener. [1] However, in my case, as I listened, my mind began to wander and therein, my “out of body experience occurred”.

I looked at our own lives, as the proud parents of the most wonderful little boy in the world. I suppose he’s no longer a little boy, as he’s 12 years old now. As he grows, he’s beginning to get a bit of an attitude and you know what, he’s also a bit of a rogue. He loves going to school, has his little circle of close friends and is very popular with his teachers and pupils alike. He loves nothing more than being at home and he is very attached to the family. Family means a lot to him and every day, the same question is asked “Are we all home tonight?” Even the family dog, is included in the family group, as he loves animals too.

Then, my mind began to wander a little bit further away.  I found myself in Omsk, Russia,[2] on March 16^th, 2006. A woman entered a hospital, gave birth to a baby boy and later on, she walked away, leaving him behind in the care of the hospital and ultimately, the state. Nobody knows why she left him behind, or her circumstances. She made a decision, based on her state of mind or god knows what else, she then walked away and we often wonder whether or not she looked back. It still saddens us that this woman had no other options but to walk away and leave him..

At that very same time in 2006, both of us, not a very young couple in Ireland were heading out on the long path of adoption. The adoption path is not for the faint hearted and if you’re not 100% committed to it, stay clear.  It will test your resolve, your togetherness and your commitment and there are as many lows as there are highs.

However, in this case, fate would intervene, and this twist of fate would ultimately lead to that little baby boy ending up living in Ireland, with that very same couple. It’s a long, long story that would actually fill a book, let alone a few pages on an internet blog. It’s a deeply personal story of profound sadness, of incredible highs, plenty tears and lots of laughter.

Our lives were transformed by this little boy. Sure, there were problems as he tried desperately to settle down on the other side of the planet. There was the frustration that we felt, struggling to cope. Of course there were times when we asked, what the hell have we left ourselves in for and if we were to look inside that little mind, I’ve no doubt he said, what the hell am I doing here.

However, life always finds a way and fate doesn’t intervene for the sake of things. Everybody worked hard and as they say, “love conquers all”. We settled as a family and the greatest word any adult can hear is “mammy or daddy”. When that little child looks at you with a puzzled face, or that mischievous look, when they have misbehaved and they know they are in trouble. When they go down with a pain or an ache and as a parent, you would wish that you could feel their pain instead.  I heard a man on radio recently referring to a parents love as something you cannot quantify or even explain. It’s a different kind of love, without any conditions.

All this was still going through my mind, as I approached my destination in Clonmel. I stopped the car and sat for a while, alone with my thoughts. I thought of that woman in Russia, all those years ago and I imagined if something similar happened in Ireland, what would happen.

The authorities would plead for the woman to come forward, where every assistance the state could provide would quite rightly be made readily available for her welfare and well being. In Ireland, it is very rare that a person would find themselves in a similar situation as that woman and that is something we should be very happy about.

I thought of the options available to the woman at that stage in her life.  When did she reach the tipping point in her life and decide to walk away, leaving her flesh and blood behind? Does she ever think of him, as his birthday comes around every year? I even wondered if she is even still alive? In our case, that little boy has known of his origins since he could first understand it. He sometimes refers to his natural mother in jest, sometimes there is a serious edge to it. We have a duty to answer every question he asks, make every resource available to him, should he ever decide to attempt in tracking her down. It will be an impossible task for him, we know that, in time he will know that too. Our greatest wish would be that some day he would meet her and that we would get to shake her hand and thank her

At this stage, there were a few more tears in my eyes, moments before a meeting that could be very influential in determining the next year of my life.

As the rain that we have become accustomed to in Ireland this year, hammered off my car once again, I thought about the choices that a woman will have to make at stages in their lives. I thought of those decisions that only a woman can make. I don’t believe that anybody has a right to tell anybody what they can and cannot do. A woman should make up her mind herself and it should be her right.

Finally, I thought of Claire in the interview I thought of her mother, at age 13 going in to an abortion clinic. Then, I thought of our little boy, the intervention of fate and how much we love him and how our lives would be totally meaningless without him.

When I got home, I gave him a hug and told him I loved him so much. He was playing his Playstation with his friends and didn’t need to hear it. 12 year olds don’t really do kisses and cuddles, especially when their friends are listening in.

One thing is for sure, he’ll never know the half of it. We surely will, his natural mother will and thankfully, she chose life.

 

[1] https://soundcloud.com/tippfmradio/the-amazing-story-of-a-woman-who-survived-an-abortion

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omsk_Oblast