Belfast 1991
(...)
Something crashed against
the window, Kelly jerked and nearly began to scream when she saw
the light outlines of a well-known face at the window. Without
wondering why Michael was coming through the back-yard she opened
the door to the garden. Actually she intended to ask why but her
words faded away. Michael pushed open the door as soon as she had
unlocked it and passed by her with a hasty sprint. Dressed in his
jeans and leather jacket he looked as she did every day, only the
gun in his hand made a terrorist out of him. Nimble as a cat he
jumped over a chair in the darkness and turned off the light
immediately. The sudden darkness nearly blinded Kelly for a short
time until her eyes adjusted to
the darkness. In the meantime Michael crept through the corridor
to the door of the house where he remained. He looked through the
window near the door, watching the street; still his right hand
held the gun.
Kelly stood at the doorframe to the living-room without saying a
word – it was so silent outside, nobody walked or drove
along the street. So what was going on?
“Are you completely...!”
“Shhhhhh...!” he hissed at her without turning.
Kelly disliked being ordered around but approached him and
stopped some distance from his gun. Michael drew her closer and
laid his mouth close to her ear to whisper:
“I must just see if they are driving away, my
darling!”
Who ´they´ were Kelly knew very well, ´they´would be the
British Army or the RUC. Strained and tense she leant against him
and closed her eyes. And she thought Michael had changed! The
coldness of his jacket penetrated her pullover and destroyed all
the hope she had built up in her heart. It could have been a
wonderful night if Michael had not wiped away the magic.At first
she only heard a low roaring then two cars advanced slowly, very
slowly. As the headlights touched their house Michael receded and
dragged Kelly back into a recess. She felt as if her heart was
bursting and she noticed
how Michael’s breathing grew more rapid with each passing
second. But moments later the bad dream began disappearing –
the noises were ebbing away and Michael breathed a sigh of
relief. So as not to wake up the children Michael kept
whispering:
“Don´t say anything. It´s all done, well!”
“Do you know how late it is?” The question was
unimportant and stupid she thought but she could not help it
– it just came out of her lips.
“Nay but it doesn’t matter now. The evening was all
successful!”
“Ah Michael,” she laid her face on his chest
“ And I wanted to make this evening a wonderful end to
the day....I have something to tell you but I´m not sure whether
I´m so happy about it now!”
“What is it?” His hand with the gun at her
back was gliding down and she relaxed. Slowly the words came from
her lips – it was so difficult for her, now she saw him as
an IRA man who was standing in front of her.
“I know we have not much money but.......I´ve expecting
another child.” She felt Michael drawing her closer.
“That´s the best news I´ve heard today,” he
replied and kissed her. Had he actually heard good news today she
wondered.
”I actually hoped you could break off.....!”
“Don´t think too much. The only thing that counts is that I
love you – all of you!”
Yes, yes, she thought contradicting fact were causing so much
confusion in her mind. Could love and murder be co-ordinated?
“Mom, there´s so much noise, I can´t sleep!” Debbie
had tiptoed with bare feet soundlessly downstairs and looked
around. Michael, now sure that the police had left the street,
turned on the light and said to his daughter:
“What are you doing here? Back to bed, quickly!”
“But it was too noisy in my room!”
Kelly sat down beside Debbie on the stairs and embraced her:
“Don´t be afraid. T´was only the RUC. But now they are
all gone and....!”
On the age of nearly six years Debbie knew much more than
children of her age in other parts of the United Kingdom and so
she looked fearfully at her father:
“Were they searching for you, Daddy?”
“Why would you think that?” Kelly screamed as she
felt her heart almost miss a beat.
“Sean´s daddy was taken away....and now he´s
gone!” She broke off from Kelly, ran to her father and
flung her little arms around his neck as he squatted down. Kelly
swallowed. The certainty that Debbie was slowly growing up into a
Catholic with hate in her heart seemed to rob Kelly of all her
senses. When it was not Michael with his unpredictable behaviour
it was the children of their neighbours. Sean O´Hanlon, almost
eleven years old remembered well how his father was arrested four
years ago after a failed bomb attack and got fifteen years in
prison – and Sean was nearly like a brother to Debbie. Taken
aback Michael embraced his daughter with one hand while the other
hand still held the gun. The contrast could not have been more
obvious – with one hand the killing terrorist, with the
other hand the worried father.
“Debbie, I won´t go away. Not everything that Sean
tells you is the truth, you
know?” What should he tell a six year old girl who saw
friends and members of her family being shot and dying? Did she
perhaps realise how other people were praising her father after
he had killed other people? Michael should have been proud but he
was not.
“Go back to bed, and don´t think too much, O.K.?” He
gave Debbie a slight smack upon her bottom and sent her upstairs.
Kelly who was standing aside seemed to tremble, her eyes were
flashing in
anger in the subdued light:
“You can´t let her go in such a way! She´s only six
and thinks it´s probably O.K. that you´re killing people!”
“Nonsense, she hasn´t said that!”
Speechless and irritated Kelly was leaning on the doorframe and
thought she was going to faint. Tears were burning in her red
eyes:
“Not yet, but it will come!”
Michael did not reply. What he did not realise at that
moment was how Kellys thoughts were hurting her own heart.
Debbie, her daughter, had really fled out of her embrace to show
solidarity with her father. It made her sad and angry – she
had already lost her daughter. Kelly was nearly twenty-seven and
had seen so much – violence, dying people and poverty. How
much was Debbie going to see, how many dead people would she see
before she was twenty-seven? Did Kelly need to understand and
endure this education in violence?
“Come on, Kelly, dear, it´s late!” His words
echoed low in her ears, low and also peacefully but with little
meaning. She got up from the stairs and followed him then he put
his arm around her and whispered something she did not
understand. The only thing that she could do was to accept that
her own children would became IRA supporters....
By the end of the year all the people in Northern Ireland knew that there was a bad year lying ahead – a year which would shake the country with many bomb attacks. A year full of devastation and sorrow – for Kelly as well!
(...)
© Ute Oettel / Fouqué-Verlag 2001 - 2007