This week one of my coworkers got a frantic phonemail from her 12-year old son. He and some of his friends had gotten kicked off the school bus for throwing water at each other. I heard her tell him to go immediately to the other bus stop at the top of the hill, and not to walk through the neighborhood, as he had his uniform on.

The neighborhood is predominantly Protestant, and he attends a Catholic school, which his uniform indicates.

As she and I went to pick up a family, she drove past the bus stop she had told him to wait at, and there he was, with two of his friends. She called out and asked if he wanted a ride, and all three boys ran across the street, nearly getting hit by a car, so eager were they to get in to the van. We dropped them off with her strict instructions to walk through an alley, and go straight home, which all three apparently did.

The next day she read out to us from the local news; two other boys who had been kicked off the bus and were dropped at the wrong stop, had got beaten up. Both were hospitalized, one with a smashed jaw. To add to this nightmare, a man recorded the beatings, and posted his video on social media. He can be heard condoning the beatings, and calling the victims “bastards”.

These are children.

It has never been enough to say that communities of families are to blame for their own ills; it is the social systems and infrastructure that are at the root of social malfunction, and which ensure perpetuity for most.

Belfast is no different. Generations of racism, systematic and sanctioned ostracism, have created vicious and devastating cycles of poverty, violence, unemployment, drug addiction, suicide, etc.

I can already see it in the children I play with here. There is resource guarding, family dysfunction and depression, lack of exposure to a variety of foods, books, and common daily experiences, and in some cases an overall failure to thrive and develop.

That’s where I’m at tonight.

Or, as they say here, 2nd of September, 2019.

Today was my first day; trial by fire, thrown in, sink or swim… all come to mind. I loved my time with the children, and it was good to see the mums, too.

We travel down the mountain and pick them up at their homes. Car seats are provided, as are snacks and lunch. It will be challenging learning how to drive the big blue vans, but it has to be done. At least they’re automatic.

Separations between children and adults are quick and unsentimental. Many of the children are used to this pace; there is no phase-in, and many are returning after a week long break. Toys and materials are rotated in and out quickly, and are not often repeated. The feeling is that we want to expose the children to as much as possible, in the little time that we have them.

The children arrive by about 10:30 (half 10), and stay until about half 1 (1:15/1:30). Today is a short day, as the staff is done around 3. Wednesday will be the longest day of the week, when we finish around half 7. Yes, 7:30pm. This is when the after school children will go home.

There is deep need for some; lack of shoes, socks, jackets or sweaters. The staff is warm, responsive, knowledgable, tough. Things move quickly, and I will need to keep up. There is no judging of families, just statement of experience and pragmatic information. I really like that. We hoover and cook for the mums, and we will all take turns doing this. The tables are set with placemats, flatware, and napkins. Tea and biscuits are served in a matching set of white mugs. For some, this is the only care-giving they receive. I hope I’m up to the task. I was encouraged to grow a thick skin, as the mums are honest with the meals they like, and don’t like. No. Pressure.

More tomorrow; as they say here, I’m knackered.

Today I took a very long walk, down a very steep mountain, into the center of Belfast. Here are some things I saw along the way.

I’m in Belfast. There were days I didn’t think it would actually happen, but there’s no doubt now.

I was able to visit with my daughter for a few days in Dublin, which was the best, and then secured a ride with friend Madeleine, up the M1. It took about 2 hours, not counting the stop for coffee.

Yes, it is different than the Republic. No question. The quality of the roadways as we headed north indicated a change in government, as much as the road signs did. The multiple and fluttering Union Jack flags signaled our arrival into the United Kingdom, too.

My housemate is on his gap year, and after working this past summer program, has already proven himself to be a helpful resource and sounding board. I am truly glad for his company and experience, as he and I are the only ones here (aside from a neighbor, not affiliated with the organization I’m volunteering with).

Here are some of my housemates recommendations and insights: don’t mention religion or Protestant or Catholic; don’t say “Ulster” as this may indicate a personal preference; when talking about the “other Ireland” refer to it as “the Republic of Ireland” and where we are as “Northern Ireland”; “quid” is the pound (like when Americans say “buck”); strollers are prams; go to the post office and finish your paperwork within 10 days of arriving in the UK; definitely go see the Giant’s Causeway; he pointed out the local police station down at the bottom of the mountain that used to get shot up everyday, and mentioned community vigilanteism as a current means of eradicating local drug dealers.

I am not overwhelmed. I am staggered.

I met my new neighbors and their 4 dogs, who roam fairly freely. The dogs didn’t take all that kindly to Phryne honing in on their turf, so there is another learning curve we will have to navigate.

But, I have groceries, a belly full of hot tea, and I’m thoroughly satisfied with the grey weather, cold wind, and lashing rain that appears intermittently. I’ve had a tour of the creche, and I’m excited to meet the children next week. I have a weekend to make my way down this huge mountain, get to know Belfast a bit better, and somehow make my way back up by Monday morning.

It will be a year of deep learning for me.

Today’s challenge will be to find a pet food store. They seem to be everywhere when I’m out walking, but now, when I need to find one close to my hotel, they seem to be miles away. Looking for directions on line, there were lots of “take the stairs”, with multiple left hand turns; visually, it looks like a straight line. I counted 12 road name changes before crossing the River Liffey, which runs through the middle of the city, about halfway to my end point.

I’m growing concerned about my American prescriptions, and am feeling frustrated all over again with the last doctor I saw in Connecticut, who was trying to convince me that ADD was an American disease. She was sure that once I reached Belfast, I would relax, and wouldn’t need adderal anymore; she didn’t follow through with calling the pharmacy to approve my adderal prescription before I had to leave, and now I’m overseas with out it.

I know my stress around the last minute maneuvers to obtain my visa were due, in part, by my misunderstanding of directions and my fleeting ability to focus on what I was expected to do. I can work and keep children safe when I don’t take my adderal, but everyday organization is challenging for me, and real attentional issues impact my ability to function at my best.

Reflecting on all of this, I hope I’m able to recall just how frustrated and concerned I am, and keep this in mind when I speak with families about their children, and how they might be feeling unheard, too.

But now, it’s off to find food for my furry companion!

A quality education has the power to transform societies in a single generation, provide children with the protection they need from the hazards of poverty, labor exploitation and disease, and give them the knowledge, skills and confidence to reach their full potential.

— Audrey Hepburn

I’m starting up a blog, as I begin my sabbatical year. Subscribe below, if you’d like to be updated when a new entry is made. And thanks for reading!