Showing posts with label Dixie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dixie. Show all posts


BBC Radio Foyle
Breakfast
Monday 19 August 2013

Programme Host Enda McClafferty (EM) interviews former IRA Volunteer Thomas “Dixie” Elliott (DE) of Doire about the controversial Peace and Reconciliation Centre that was proposed for the former Long Kesh prison site.

(begins 1:49)

Enda McClafferty (EM): The controversy over The Maze and The Peace Centre there rumbles on this morning when a former cellmate of Bobby Sands has accused Sinn Féin of using the hunger strikers to promote their own political agenda.

Dixie Elliott from Doire says the controversy over the Maze peace centre is part of a political game and not about remembering those who died.

Well he told me why he's opposed to the Peace and Reconciliation Centre at the former prison site.


Thomas “Dixie” Elliott (DE): My opinion is that Sinn Féin needs the Peace and Reconciliation Centre located at the site of the former H-Blocks because they need to continue with the claim that what is happening today in regards to the peace process is the legacy of the struggle.

And that ten men gave their lives for what is happening today - which is absurd! Like, no one would have died for peace.

In actual fact these men were imprisoned at Long Kesh because they were captured during what we seen as a war to remove the British from The North.

EM: But Sinn Féin would say of course that this was a crucial moment in history for Northern Ireland and it should be remembered and it should be there to be reflected upon by people who come to Northern Ireland and who visit that particular site.

DE: By all means remember but don't abuse it for their peace process.

By all means remember the sacrifices of the hunger strikers and other people who gave their lives but don't be abusing it for the so-called peace process - which I believe's a farce.

EM: So do you think then there should be a centre there? That there should be some sort of place that people can go and hear about what happened?

DE: See when you're talking about “go and hear what happened”...you see when I hear of “peace and reconciliation” I think of funding and jobs for the boys.

And this is what this is going to be...just another place so they can employ their own members.

EM: You're clearly opposed to Sinn Féin's project if you like, the policy that they're embarked on at the moment. Does that mean then that you're in the dissident camp?

DE: No. I'm in no camp. I'm an independent Republican who has my own opinions.

I don't believe that armed struggle will take us anywhere now. I don't believe it all. But would I condemn dissidents? No. I wouldn't be a hypocrite by condemning them.

But I would try and persuade them that the way forward is through peaceful means.

EM: You were a former cellmate of Bobby Sands as you were there whenever the hunger strikes happened. What do you think those people would have made of what's happening now...the people who died on hunger strike?

DE: See I can't speak for the dead because as I said, they're dead.

But what I can say is no one would have died for a peace process.

You don't die for peace. You die during a war. You die in order to bring about change. You don't die for peace.

But I'm sure if they had've known, which the British seem to know in 1981, that members of the Republican Movement were intent on steering the movement away from the struggle, the campaign, that they wouldn't have died.

I wouldn't have thrown stones for it if I had've known.

EM: So what's your message then to Sinn Féin who feel that this project is worth pursuing, worth pushing ahead with, because they feel it's crucial that the story of the hunger strikers has to be told on that site?

DE: I would say to Sinn Féin that the hunger strikers didn't die for a peace process.

And if they believe in a peace process well...well be it. But they shouldn't try and re-write history.

Bobby Sands and the nine other men who died died because they wanted to undo what Thatcher was doing and that was criminalising the struggle. And the struggle was all about waging war against the British.

And they can't re-write history to suit their own narrative.

EM: And what would you say to those Unionists out there who would see it as a step too far that there would be anything retained on the site of the prison site because it will become a shrine to terrorism?

DE: Well I think in terms of the Unionist politicians that everything's a step too far unless it's a step in their direction.

EM: That was Dixie Elliott there.

Well we have been in touch with Sinn Féin about what Mr. Elliott had to say but as yet we haven't heard back from the party.

(ends 1:54)



Peace Processing the Memory of Conflict: Radio Foyle interview with Dixie Elliott

Tonight the Pensive Quill carries the first two chapters of Thomas "Dixie" Elliott's satirical story, Crossmacglynn.

Ballycrossmacglynn
Thomas "Dixie" Elliott


Chapter I


It was 1984, give or take a leap year.

Godfrey Templeton, the English undercover agent, was heavily disguised as he entered the bar. He removed his balaclava and put it with the other balaclavas which hung by the door revealing a mop of ruddy red hair. Godfrey's hair was naturally black but the change of colour would fool the natives.

His dark glasses were a replica of those commonly worn by the IRA; these he didn’t remove. The IRA could identify a British soldier by the way he looked, if he looked suspicious then he was a Brit. So Godfrey surmised that if he hid his eyes behind dark glasses he wouldn’t look suspicious. Templeton spat in the face of death: he was British upper class, Eton educated and came from a long line of Sandhurst trained officers.

All eyes looked to the door as he calmly walked in. The locals in the Bomb Inn didn’t take to strangers.

"Top O' the morning till yees!" He hollered as he walked towards the drunken IRA men who milled round the dartboard firing revolvers to see who got closest to the bull.

"And the luck of the Irish till yourself, me good man," they replied, seemingly relieved that he spoke the Irish.

Godfrey pulled out his Browning 9mm and emptied the mag into the bulls-eye, finishing with a double top.

"Begorrah!" they called out in amazement. "Sure if your man isn't the best shot this side of the Mountains of Mourne!"

“And where did you learn tay shoot like that?” asked a member of the group at the dartboard.

“During the Great Famine we lived in a wee cottage in the bogs of Donegal. I had to go out hunting to feed my widowed mother and 10 brothers ‘n sisters. And it wasn’t long afore I could shoot like Annie Oakley.”

“Balls!” The voice came from a snug in the corner.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” asked Godfrey of the voice in the snug.

“The Famine was more than a hundred years ago and you look well for a man of that age,” replied the voice from the snug.

Kitty MacGlynn the barmaid looked to the trio of men seated round a table in the far corner of the bar. Cigarette smoke hung in the air above them as they drank pints of the Black Stuff.

Their hands slowly but surely reached down to the armalite rifles that were propped under the table. Kitty’s father, Big Dan Mor MacGlynn, the local OC, grinned through his thick beard as he swung his weapon up and took aim. Godfrey was quick. In one swift movement he released the empty magazine, let it drop to the floor and replaced it rapidly with another.

Everyone in the bar room froze momentarily.

Everyone except Tomas MacGlynn, Kitty's 7 year old son who had watched everything unfold as he pumped coins into the Sons O' Eireann slot machine. In a movement which equalled Godfrey for speed he pulled a Walther PPK from his school bag and fired. The bullet tore half of Godfrey's ear from the side of his head taking the dark glasses with it. The gunshot was still resounding around the bar when a shotgun blast from the direction of the snug lifted Godfrey as both barrels caught him in the chest and flung him across two tables and out through the bar window into the car park. Granny MacGlynn, the family matriarch, blew on both barrels of the sawn off and shuffled out the back to put her washing through the mangle.

There was silence in the bar for the merest of seconds, then glasses of the Black Stuff clashed together in cheers and the whole bar room erupted into a chorus of "Come out ye Black 'n Tans..."

Godfrey was far from dead though. Gingerly he pulled open the bullet proof vest.


The characters of Crossmacglynn


Chapter 2


The little village of Ballycrossmacglynn nestles in an area of green hills straddling the border between the Northern Ireland part of Ireland and the Southern Ireland part of Ireland. The village has nestled here since the time of the Normans and takes its name from its earliest known inhabitant, Cross MacGlynn, a man who was angry at everyone and about everything.

MacGlynn built the ruined castle which stands on the hill overlooking the village and his anger was said to stem from the building of this castle. It was meant to be built in County Kerry but those he sent before him to force the native Irish from their land and build a castle upon it actually took a wrong turn. Upon landing at Waterford they headed north instead of west and MacGlynn was an angry Norman when he arrived at Kerry to find that what he believed to be his castle was occupied. Therefore he laid siege to the castle he thought was his castle for several months thinking that the native Irish had squatted into it. The besieged were actually Normans themselves who thought that the forces of MacGlynn were actually native Irish trying to storm the castle. It appears that every time MacGlynn called upon them to surrender he was so angry the besieged mistook his ranting for Gaelic battle cries and replied with a volley of arrows and other projectiles. By the time word reached MacGlynn that his castle was actually in the North, he had lost many men. They had wandered off, bored by constant besieging and became more Irish than the Irish themselves.

MacGlynn eventually reached his new castle in the North only to find that it was squatted into by the native Irish. The Norman builders had set off to find him, wanting paid for the job and left no one to look after the castle while they were away. The native Irish they had drove from their land had, in the meantime, decided to lay siege to the castle to get their land back, but, finding it empty, they moved in.

To say that Cross MacGlynn was angry was putting it mildly and he pounded the castle with all he had until it was left in ruins. However it turned out that the native Irish in the castle, upon seeing how cross MacGlynn was, decided it would be better to sneak out the back at the beginning of the siege. If MacGlynn had only tried the door, before pounding it with all he had, he would have found it unlocked.

Needless to say MacGlynn was angry with the builders and refused to pay them and they left in a fit of umbrage to become more Irish than the Irish themselves.

Having realised that he was alone in the Northern part of Ireland with a ruined castle, MacGlynn met and settled down with a local girl, becoming, not surprisingly, more Irish than the Irish themselves.

The ghost of Cross MacGlynn is said to haunt various parts of the village.

“That I do!………That I do!”

Who said that?

“Didn’t you just say that the ghost of Cross MacGlynn is said to haunt various parts of the village?”

Well, OK I did, but that was part of the narrative.

“Do I look like part of a fecking narrative to you?”

I don’t see anything.

“That’s because I’m a fecking ghost, you clampet, an invisible fecking ghost which is haunting the fecking village!”

Oh right! Did I just write that?

“Oh get on with the fecking story for feck's sake!”

No need to be so angry.

“You made me fecking angry, you buck-eejit!”

Oh, right!


To be continued....


Crossmacglynn