Title: An Alternative 11th Night

Subject: A Catholic perspective on the festivities.

I thought your readers maybe interested in the other side of the 11th Night. I live in a small mostly protestant village with only a couple of catholic families. My family has lived there for over 30 years all year round our neighbours are for the most part friendly and happy to pass the time of day, except when it comes to the “Mad Month” July.

The atmosphere changes and these same people simply grunt or nod as you meet them in the street instead of the usual “Well how’s it going” or “Crap weather is in it”. Its almost like they do not want to be seen talking to a catholic.

All of this comes to a head on the 11th night, when some of the local band members have their tins of beer and start to sing their tribal songs in preparation for lighting the bonfire which is located in some waste ground at the back of our street. I have no problem with this, as I can and do respect others traditions. However in the past on each and every 11th night my family used to be subjected to the most horrendous and terrifying experience.

It normally begins about an hour after the bonfire has been lit when the flames are starting to die down and most people are starting to drift away back to the comfort of their own homes. In doing so they pass by our house and normally it starts with a few calls of “F*%K the Pope and the IRA ” followed by “No Surrender” then as the beer kicks in the taunts expand to other more personal and threatening shouts. “Get out you fenian “B^&ta&*S “, “Go back to the South where you belong” and other sectarian slogans and taunts. These I can live with however my family and I knew it would get worse and that this was only the start.

At some point the “Loyal hard core” will congregate at one of the neighbours to carry on the party, a well know individual, and lots more drink will be provided courtesy of him. Eventually some die-hard members of the band will start to play their well-known party pieces. This is it from here on things take on a more menacing twist and from past experience we know at any time the blue touch paper could be lit as drink is consumed and the performers liven up.

Meanwhile my family is sitting in the house with buckets of water and wet blankets ready for the worst. No lights are on in our house in order not to be seen and antagonise the revellers only the light of the street lamps let us see as the venetian blinds are slightly open in order to allow us to peer out at what is happening. In case you are wondering what the buckets of water and wet blankets are for it is in case of fire as the taunts of “Get out before you are burnt out” are a definite reality. One year our car was damaged and another we had a window at the back of the house smashed with a bottle. Remember this is not strangers but our neighbours, neighbours who for 50 odd weeks of the year are just like any other neighbour in any other community, who commit these brave actions.

The worst part is when two or three of the band members take it in turn to parade up our front path playing a flute or lambeg drum as loud as possible, each one getting closer to our front door. Eventually one of them will muster up the “Drunken courage” to come right up the path and boot the door. This always raises a huge cheer from the assembled mass as they swig back more cans and simultaneously cheer and shout “No Surrender.”

Inside the house there is no such joviality my mother wants my father to phone the police and my father is adamant that to do so would only worsen the situation, such is the fear and intimidation felt. Meanwhile my little sister and two brothers are crying in their bedrooms and asking my daddy to make them stop. I am hiding behind the settee with a bucket of water close by just in case.

Thankfully we never did get burnt out although several of the other catholic families did move away from homes that they had liven in for many years.

The strange thing is that a couple of weeks later these same individuals would meet you in the street and it would be “Well how’s it going” or “Crap weather is in it”. It was as if nothing had ever happened and that it was normal or just a bit of fun. I wonder how they would have felt if the shoe was on the other foot and their parents home had been under siege or their children were crying in the dark with fear.

I am thankful that our society has moved on and things now are not as bad and we no longer suffer this type of harassment, things are still not perfect, but this we country of ours has so much to offer. I pray that we will never ever be allowed to descend back into those days of frightening sectarian hatred and the even worst atrocities that were perpetuated in the name of Loyalist and Republicanism.