The mulberries are ripening with every passing minute under June's sun, weighing down the big old mulberry tree in our office courtyard. Sometimes they fall on your head, ruining your headscarf. Otherwise they simply splatter and stain the ground with their indelible juice. The patio is strewn with what look like squashed beetles.
I went to Ireland a few weeks ago, invited by a friend I’d made at the Pathways to Peace conference here in Kabul in April. I visited the centre for peace and reconciliation high up in the wild mossy glens on Dublin’s outskirts, where for years a small number of people have been working hard to heal wounds and bring people together from both sides of a fence dividing Northern Irish communities. Having been caught up in Afghanistan’s war for so long, I’d forgotten that a silent conflict still permeates people’s lives every day so close to home.
Church in Belfast
The principal issues at stake in this part of the world were the constitutional status of Northern Ireland and the relationship between the mainly-Protestant unionist and mainly-Catholic nationalist communities in Northern Ireland. The Belfast 'Good Friday' agreement in 1998 marked a milestone in ending tensions, but the place is far from free from its troubled past.
As my friend patiently drove me through Belfast’s different neighbourhoods, I felt the tension there and was struck with how divided communities are. ‘How’s the craic?’ he asked. ‘Edgy’, I replied.
In this part of Belfast, homes are covered in murals depicting scenes from the conflict or the different factions' emblems
The wall that divides Belfast
A wall is a stark, imposing silent reminder of how bad things can become. Helpless words of hope written in black marker pens cover the wall from one end to the other. Here, a few months ago, some Afghan parliamentarians came to visit. They left their own mark on this wall, expressing their wishes for a peaceful future.
This Afghan war is a complicated affair. It wouldn't all seem so insurmountable if it were simply a case of getting the right people into the same room to talk things over. These endless discussions about bringing in the Taliban and coming up with plans to reconcile insurgents are sounding more hollow by the day. As if by embracing this conciliatory approach and understanding how the Taliban think, some unprecedented breakthrough will finally be made.
The whole war has become mired in messy, underhand economics and war profiteering, which in turn have become entangled in the varying shades of outrage due to years of factional fighting, poverty and in some cases ideological differences. Afghan politicians, government employees, foreign contractors, ‘Taliban’ commanders… Some people have become rich and depend on this war today to maintain certain lifestyles. Where is the incentive to end this? It’s going to take a lot more than sitting in a tent sipping tea to break free from this mess.
If it were simply a case of healing wounds, I’d like to think Seamus Heaney’s words could be of comfort to some. My Irish friend read this beautiful poem at the peace conference in April, and as he read these words (and they were translated) I looked at the faces of my turbaned Khosti friends sitting at the front table, and wondered what they thought about all of this.
The Cure at Troy (excerpt)
Seamus Heaney
Human beings suffer.
They torture one another.
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.
History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave,
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up
And hope and history rhyme.
So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge,
Believe that a farther shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles and healing wells.
Call miracle self-healing,
The utter self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky
That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.
It means once in a lifetime
That justice can rise up
And hope and history rhyme.
Old cemetery near Glencree