My Twelfth
Anyone who knows me will know how I feel about the Twelfth of July celebrations (Or Orangefest as it is now known)Coincidentally I took the above picture of flames at Belvoir bonfire on the 11th night last Tuesday - isn't it spooky that the flames look very like a map of Ulster????
Anyway - for those (particularly people not from Northern Ireland) who could not get their heads round the article SMITHY submitted on this ORANGE FEST thing, then let me ruddy well give you a potted history.
It starts in 1690 when William of Orange (a Dutchman) arrived at Carrickfergus Castle (about 10 miles out of Belfast) and briefly plonked his diminutive arse down on a chair that was presented to him before being rushed off that night to Belfast. Carrickfergus has never fully recovered from this mind blowing event and sees itself as one of Northern Ireland's premier hot spots as a result.
King William (or King Billy as Northern Ireland's uneducated rabble now knows him) had brought with him over 40 pieces of artillery, some of the Dutch guns requiring 16 horses to pull them. He also brought a thousand horses and £200,000 in cash to pay his men, who numbered some 36,000.
On 19th June 1690, King William set out from Belfast to Lisburn and from there towards Newry and to Drogheda. It would have been a gruelling and tough journey for him and his men as it is thought that the ENTERPRISE train was not in operation that day due to a security alert. History records that they had to do some of it on Ulsterbus transfer between Newry and Dundalk.
A battle took place on the Boyne River against English King James II, which William and his men won, largely due to the unexpected artillery that William had brought with him. James II then King of England was not popular amongst Protestants due to the fact that he had Catholics promoted to high-status positions while he appointed the 'Bloody Assizes' to execute, torture or enslave Protestant rebels. That seems to be the main cause of the problem.
Every year on the Twelfth of July, this rebellion is celebrated by the protestants who number around 50% of Northern Ireland's population. The Protestants march for a whole day round all of Northern Ireland in Orange Sashes and bowler hats (to recreate 15th Century attire)
Very few people in Northern Ireland however have a notion about the battle. Ask any of the kids in the street who are throwing fire crackers at people's windows or the teenagers pissing up against my doorway why it is that Ulster's "Loyalists" are celebrating a battle which went AGAINST the British King. Point this out to them and they would look baffled. Tell them that King Billy was a dutch man and not English and that he was in fact fighting the English troops and they would run for the hills (in protest)
Equally, ask a Nationalist why it is that they object to these plonker loyalists celebrating a battle hundreds of years ago in which a dutchman came over to NI and beat the English and they would be equally clueless.
It doesn't make sense these days but it doesn't matter. What it boils down to is tribalism in a raw form. We LITERALLY have people in this, the NEW MILLENNIUM, gathering round a big fire and chanting singing dancing and jeering. It's vaguely ridiculous and certainly backwards. It just doesn't sit well with modern thinking.
I object to the twelfth celebrations and am not afraid to say so, but not because of politics or religion. I object because of the dreadful mess it leaves. Speaking as a person who lives on one of the most "traditional routes" there is, I can tell you that the litter and smell of piss that is left behind after one of these parades is appalling. There were half eaten polystyrene trays of gravy chips being trodden underfoot all day and then left there.
Believe me, even if you were one of the most ardent supporters of the Orange Order you would be equally disgusted if you examined the scene afterwards. At any organised event in the open air, what is there always a huge queue for? That's right - the portacabin toilets. At the twelfth there are NO TOILETS!!! What does that mean? Piss everywhere. Last Wednesday I came down to my own front door to find two grown men (in polyester bright blue uniforms) pissing up against the glass on the door. From inside I could see the yellow streams running down the glass and I could see their "urine mechanisms" but they did not care - not one bit - they just carried on.
I object to THAT.
Labels: New Year, Northern Ireland, smithy