The folly of returning to the land of our birth

We landed on the island of Ireland last week, to begin a 10-day visit to friends and family. It was raining. Not a good sign, I thought, as we had just enjoyed blazing sunshine in Scotland for the previous month, something that had baffled both the population and the meteorologists. We put our concerns aside and headed for Dublin.

Spoiled by the concept of ‘services’ from our driving in Britain, we veered from our chosen path, following signs which indicated we might enjoy a coffee and a sit-down, only to find ourselves in rich countryside reminiscent of that in which I spent my childhood. We ploughed through the countryside of County Louth, which was adorned with signs and banners wishing their footballers luck in the Leinster final. 
We arrived at the ‘services’ to be greeted by a ramshackle outhouse with no marking to indicate it might be permissible for anyone to urinate there. Compulsion overtook good sense and I rushed towards the convenience. As I stood to my task I became paralysed with fear. In front of me, on the dimly lit wall, stood three letters, ‘UVF’.
We had crossed the border a few minutes earlier but it was clear from the graffiti that at least one person in the area had leanings towards the kind of extremism that often takes up minutes on news bulletins around the world.
Here in ‘bandit country’ what might otherwise be described as mindless graffiti, took on a sinister twist. I returned to the car and urged Helen to depart with all the speed she could muster. Through the grim little village we drove, passing as we went a number of fireworks warehouses. Large signs proclaimed that each was Ireland’s largest wholesaler of the explosives.
The strangeness of this village was further compounded by the presence of derelict hotels and restaurants and an extraordinary number of moneychangers. As we had only Sterling in our pockets, Helen wondered if we might stop and change some cash. I felt it was best we should continue with all haste and try our best to forget that we had ever visited this place.
Listening to the one o’clock news last Saturday, two days later, we heard the report of a number of men suspected of involvement with dissident Republicans who had been arrested in that very area after a gun battle with the Garda Special Branch. It came as little surprise.  
Although we had crossed the border, the national lines remained blurred. Radio waves continued to bring us BBC Radio 4. The classically straight-faced newsreader recounted tales of economic austerity and high political intrigue until just before the end of the bulletin, when a smile entered her voice. “And finally, police in Ireland are investigating the theft of a penguin from Dublin Zoo.” It was difficult not to laugh. “Police believe it may have been a prank. Zoo officials are not amused.” We were home.
The joy of seeing friends and family has been as powerful as ever but, as with all visits in recent times, has been tempered by the awful economic circumstances gripping the country. While the economic situation in Scotland is not good, it seems less all pervasive than the situation in Ireland.
It is flabbergasting to watch euro disappear from the wallet when visiting Ireland. In Scotland it is easy to feel safe with £20 in the pocket; the same cannot be said for €20. As the country struggles under the crushing foot of economic strife, it is difficult not to be overwhelmed by an urge to flee.
Reports of a haemorrhage of players from the Leitrim senior football team seem to reflect that feeling is strong in many young men in the country at the moment. It would be wrong to blame them for their desire to seek out foreign shores when the country is in the state it is in.
What makes this dreadful situation all the more infuriating is the decision by the Dáil to take a nice long summer break. In a sense, the elected representatives are giving two fingers to the country, rather than doing everything in their power to fully tackle the crisis.
What has been a revelation to me is the continued stoicism of those I have met to the economic Armageddon they are enduring.
The politicians have, it seems, brainwashed the population, with the help of the media, into thinking that this situation was unavoidable and something that must be endured.
This is a stinging injustice. The current situation is a direct result of bad government. Certainly, there have been exacerbating global factors but when compared to other nations, Ireland is in a worse state than most.
This is the fault of the Government. As this is the case, where is the fury? Have people also been shown that protests will do no good? Isolated in the talking shop on Kildare Street, the politicians have barricaded themselves in to sit out the downturn while the people of the nation suffer the consequences of their actions.
It pains me to write that I am glad to be living in another country but that is most definitely the case. I am angry and resentful at what has been done to this country by the shambolic gang of vote grabbers who control the affairs of the nation. They have made it madness for my wife and I to live in Ireland and that is to their shame.
I know many other Irish people living abroad who scoff at the idea of returning home, even though they are deeply unhappy living where they are. They feel that returning to the land of their birth to be near friends and family is nothing short of folly.
Irish politics is crying out for an enema but in order for it to be fully administered, the people of Ireland need to stand up and unleash the fury that they seem to be repressing.