At one time not so long past, every now and then, my house would shake and a
noise of grotesquely familiar horror would fill the air. We would wait five
or six minutes and then turn on the television to find out where the IRA
bomb had exploded and how many people were missing; and how the damage
would affect getting around London (life must go on). I once taught a young
woman who had lost both legs in a bombing in Northern Ireland: she was
Catholic, but she didn't say and I didn't ask whether it was Catholics or
Protestants who laid the bomb.
Around here live many refugees. They send their children to the local
school, whose governing body I chair (a fact I mention because it explains
why I know what I do about it). 500 children, 22 languages; the first
language of two-thirds of the children is not English. Three-quaretrs of
the children come from families poor enough to qualify for free school
dinners. Two Polish children, eight and nine years old, arrived the other
week: they had never been to school and knew not a single word of English.
We have Somali children: some have talked to me about how they miss the sun
of their country, and the colours; none of them mention (and of course I do
not ask about) the terrible sights they have seen there and which led their
families to flee. There are quite a few Kurdish children in the school,
along with Turkish and Turkish Cypriot children. One of the problems the
school has is the enmity between the parents of these children: a Kurdish
man was murdered a little while back, it is thought by a Turk (murder is
rare in Britain compared to the USA, I should perhaps add). There is also
enmity between Kurds: some support Ocalan, others regard him as an
unprincipled terrorist.
The world can be a terrible place. Meanwhile, my school tries to educate
its children, while respecting their cultures; and at last a British
government seems to be sincerely trying to find peace in Ireland. None of
these things will happen if people do not forgive, and cease to seek the eye
for the eye. It is not for me to preach to them about it: it is not my
brother who has been murdered, my sister who has been raped, my life which
has been turned upside down: but what I can do is admire those who can
forgive. To forgive is not to forget, and I am not speaking of Christian
forbearance, or turning the other cheek.
Susan
