cúisle mo chroí

I woke up to great news this morning: Centurion Ministries has helped to free yet another innocent person from prison! I was a volunteer caseworker with CM years ago, and continue to be inspired by their amazing work. I’ve continued to be involved in human rights work since then, but working there really changed me and I think it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.

Below is the text of the story from Newsworks, but be sure to visit the original article to check out the audio:

The oldest inmate at Graterford Prison, has been released. The 82 year old served more than 40 years for a heinous crime he says he did not commit.

A court ruling on Thursday paved the way for his release, after a long, strange legal battle.

Louis Mickens-Thomas thought he would die in prison. Instead he’s standing in the parking lot of a nondescript restaurant near Graterford Prison, a free man. The 82-year-old with soft eyes and a quiet voice stopped in the chilly weather to talk about his freedom,

“Well I’m quite surprised myself,” Mickens-Thomas said. “What can I say? I’m very fortunate.”

Mickens-Thomas said he left a lot of innocent guys behind. He credited his lawyers with getting him out.

“Didn’t seem like it was possible and they did what was impossible.”

In 1966 Mickens-Thomas was convicted of the rape and murder of a 12-year-old girl in West Philadelphia. The crime lab worker who testified against him, was later exposed as a fraud. At a second trial, he was again found guilty, after the discredited worker’s boss vouched for her findings. Over the years, Mickens-Thomas maintained his innocence.

Len Sosnov, one of Mickens-Thomas’ lawyers, called it one of the most bizarre cases he’s seen. In 1995, his client’s sentence was commuted. A court ordered his release in 2004, but he was sent back to prison a year and a half later.

“The parole board sent him to a group sex therapy program and Lou was required to report all his behaviors, all his thoughts,” Sosnov explained. “And Lou reported to them one day that he had kissed a woman at his church, an age-appropriate woman, an older woman at church and the parole board viewed this as a prohibited sexual act. The whole thing blew up and they removed him from the sex therapy program, which was a violation of his parole–that he didn’t successfully complete it.”

That landed Mickens-Thomas back behind bars.

“He’s been denied parole three or four times since then and each time the parole board’s reasons were that he had not completed their in prison sex therapy program which requires you to admit guilt and Lou has maintained his innocence ever since he’s been arrested.”

Mickens-Thomas is headed to live with his 62 year old nephew in the Poconos, a far cry from Graterford, where inmates and corrections officers lined up to congratulate him just before he left.

Mickens-Thomas maintained his innocence over the years. When he was told he was going to be released, again, he didn’t believe it,

“It just didn’t seem real,” Mickens-Thomas said. “That somebody had won in the court and they had agreed. And they helped me. They told them, let me go. They shouldn’t have been able to do that. Not according to law. They shouldn’t have been able to do any of that.”

His thoughts were interrupted. His first meal on the outside arrived. He mulled his future over eggs, bacon and potatoes.

A message from the Bloody Sunday Families and wounded:

To our supporters everywhere

On 30th January 1972, a dark cloud descended upon this beautiful city. It stayed until last Tuesday, 15th June 2010 – over 38 years of a journey. It has now been lifted.

It has been a long journey from the beginning of the Bloody Sunday Justice Campaign to where we are today. Although we have always known the truth - now we can now rest easy - safe in the knowledge that our loved ones have been officially declared innocent by Lord Saville.

From the early days of the campaign, it became apparent that we would need moral, political and financial support. With this in mind, we called upon you, the people of Derry, to help. We couldn’t have done this without you.

Not only have we had strong community support and political support, we have also been fortunate enough to have friends throughout the world eager to help us ‘Set the Truth Free’. Thanks to all those who campaigned, marched and encouraged us over the years. Special thanks must also be conveyed to our legal teams, who faced their daunting task with professionalism and courtesy.

Our gratitude must also be expressed to Bloody Sunday Trust members, past and present, who have been a constant support and guiding light throughout the campaign, and to Cunamh for their assistance throughout the Inquiry.

It would be impossible to name all those who have helped us over the years, but please be assured we appreciate everything you have done. Without your encouragement and support, we would not have been able to stand before you on the steps of the Guildhall last week. Without your perseverance, the story of what happened here on Bloody Sunday would have long since been forgotten.

Last Tuesday was an historic event for the people of Derry and beyond and we gladly share our achievement with all of you. From within the Guildhall we could hear the cheers of the expectant Derry crowds, and this, accompanied by Lord Saville’s verdict and David Cameron’s apology, meant the world to us. The subsequent meeting between families and Protestant church leaders further highlighted the need for healing for all those affected by conflict.

For decades, we, the families and the wounded, had longed for the truth to be set free and we are very grateful that so many were present to share in our sense of relief and achievement. Thank you.

Le buíochas as ucht agus le grá mór
(With heartfelt thanks and great love)
 
The Bloody Sunday families and wounded
Press Officer, 
‘Set the Truth Free’ Campaign, 
Bloody Sunday Family Support Centre, 
Unit B5 Ráth Mór Centre, 
Bligh’s Lane, 
Creggan, 
Derry 
BT48 OLZ 

Tel: 078. 8972. 0080

I believe I may be the only person interested in live-tweeting the New York New Belfast Conference which begins today, but so be it! As someone who is interested in the post-conflict regeneration of the North of Ireland, absolutely loves Belfast (and New York!), I’m really looking forward to this conference. I’m also in the midst of a really exciting project with Relatives for Justice which I hope will link the cities (and beyond) in new and creative ways.

I’ve decided to use the hashtag #nynb2010

An article in today’s Belfast Telegraph reports that the number of those affected by trauma (PTSD, etc) has increased by a third since last year, prompting the WAVE Trauma Centre to launch a new program at Queens to teach social work students to work with those affected by trauma related to the conflict.

Sandra Peake, chief executive of WAVE, said: “For many of those affected by the Troubles, the past is not in the past, it forms the present and it needs to be addressed in order that individuals can progress to the future.”

I want to take this course!

So said Nobel Prize-winning poet Seamus Heaney last night, in reference to his being inspired to write “A Sofa in the Forties,” a poem about the Holocaust train into Auschwitz. Last night I took Max to see Heaney’s poetry reading at Hunter College, where he was awarded an honorary doctorate. It was nice to hear him start with that–both the poem and the idea that everyone is connected to what happens in other places (a sentiment that he also expressed in his Nobel speech in ‘95 and elsewhere no doubt).

Short of the misguided comment by the HC president with regard to the “40 years of violence between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland” it was a great event, and I was so happy to hear Heaney read from his work live, and to take Max with me. Heaney read a few poems including A Sofa in the Forties, Anything Can Happen, The Tollund Man and Oysters. This was Max’s first experience with Heaney, and he was particularly taken by “Oysters,” being that it is about food and is quite beautiful (as well as the fact that Ireland is the only place in the world where you can still get wild oysters!!). Heaney said that he used to escape “the shadow of assassinations, killing and intimate violence” in the North (albeit guiltily) to harvest the oysters with his friends when he was young…

Here’s the text of the poem:

Oysters
by Seamus Heaney

Our shells clacked on the plates.
My tongue was a filling estuary,
My palate hung with starlight :
As I tasted the salty Pleiades
Orion dipped his foot into the water.

Alive and violated,
They lay on their beds of ice :
Bivalves: the split bulb
And philandering sigh of ocean.
Millions of them ripped and shucked and scattered.

We had driven to that coast
Through flowers and limestone
And there we were, toasting friendship,
Laying down a perfect memory
In the cool of thatch and crockery.

Over the Alps, packed deep in hay and snow,
The Romans hauled their oysters south to Rome :
I saw damp panniers disgorge
The frond-lipped, brine-stung
Glut of privilege

And was angry that my trust could not repose
In the clear light, like poetry or freedom
Leaning in from sea. I ate the day
Deliberately, that its tang
Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb.

I came across a reference to the following prose poem in a book I read about lessons from the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It is called “Unchopping a Tree” and was written by M.S. Merwin; the book described it as a metaphor for the healing of a nation. I like to think of it as a metaphor for the process of healing as well, and is especially poignant when read in the context of supporting bereaved families suffering from the loss of loved ones after violent conflict, such as in the work of Relatives for Justice:

Start with the leaves, the small twigs, and the nests that have been shaken, ripped, or broken off by the fall; these must be gathered and attached once again to their respective places. It is not arduous work, unless major limbs have been smashed or mutilated. If the fall was carefully and correctly planned, the chances of anything of the kind happening will have been reduced. Again, much depends upon the size, age, shape, and species of the tree. Still, you will be lucky if you can get through this stages without having to use machinery. Even in the best of circumstances it is a labor that will make you wish often that you had won the favor of the universe of ants, the empire of mice, or at least a local tribe of squirrels, and could enlist their labors and their talents. But no, they leave you to it. They have learned, with time. This is men’s work. It goes without saying that if the tree was hollow in whole or in part, and contained old nests of bird or mammal or insect, or hoards of nuts or such structures as wasps or bees build for their survival, the contents will have to repaired where necessary, and reassembled, insofar as possible, in their original order, including the shells of nuts already opened. With spider’s webs you must simply do the best you can. We do not have the spider’s weaving equipment, nor any substitute for the leaf’s living bond with its point of attachment and nourishment. It is even harder to simulate the latter when the leaves have once become dry–as they are bound to do, for this is not the labor of a moment, Also it hardly needs saying that this the time fro repairing any neighboring trees or bushes or other growth that might have been damaged by the fall. The same rules apply. Where neighboring tree were of the same species it is difficult not to waste time conveying a detached leaf back to the wrong tree. Practice, practice. Put your hope in that.

Now the tackle must be put into place, or the scaffolding, depending on the surroundings and the dimension of the tree. It is ticklish work. Almost always it involves, in itself, further damage to the area, which will have to be corrected later. But, as you’ve heard, it can’t be helped. And care now is likely to save you considerable trouble later. Be careful to grind nothing into the ground.

At last the time comes for the erecting of the trunk. By now it will scarcely be necessary to remind you of the delicacy of this huge skeleton. Every motion of the tackle, every slightly upward heave of the trunk, the branches, their elaborately reassembled panoply of leaves (now dead) will draw from you an involuntary gasp. You will watch for a lead or a twig to be snapped off yet again. You will listen for the nuts to shift in the hollow limb and you will hear whether they are indeed falling into place or are spilling in disorder — in which case, or in the event of anything else of the kind — operations will have to cease, of course, while you correct the matter. The raising itself is no small enterprise, from the moment when the chains tighten around the old bandages until the boles hands vertical above the stump, splinter above splinter. How the final straightening of the splinters themselves can take place (the preliminary work is best done while the wood is still green and soft, but at times when the splinters are not badly twisted most of the straightening is left until now, when the torn ends are face to face with each other). When the splinters are perfectly complementary the appropriate fixative is applied. Again we have no duplicate of the original substance. Ours is extremely strong, but it is rigid. It is limited to surfaces, and there is no play in it. However the core is not the part of the trunk that conducted life from the roots up to the branches and back again. It was relatively inert. The fixative for this part is not the same as the one for the outer layers and the bark, and if either of these is involved in the splintered sections they must receive applications of the appropriate adhesives. Apart from being incorrect and probably ineffective, the core fixative would leave a scar on the bark.

When all is ready the splintered trunk is lowered onto the splinters of the stump. This, one might say, is only the skeleton of the resurrection. Now the chips must be gathered, and the sawdust, and returned to their former positions. The fixative for the wood layers will be applied to chips and sawdust consisting only of wood. Chips and sawdust consisting of several substances will receive applications of the correct adhesives. It is as well, where possible, to shelter the materials from the elements while working. Weathering makes it harder to identify the smaller fragments. Bark sawdust in particular the earth lays claim to very quickly. You must find our own way of coping with this problems. There is a certain beauty, you will notice at moments, in the patterns of the chips as they are fitted back into place. You will wonder to what extent it should be described as natural, to what extent man-made. It will lead you on to speculations about the parentage of beauty itself, to which you will return.

The adhesive for the chips is translucent, and not so rigid as that for splinters. That for the bark and its subcutaneous layers if transparent and runs into the fibers on either side, partially dissolving them into each other. It does not set the sap flowing again but it does pay a kind of tribute to the preoccupations of the ancient thoroughfares. You could not roll an egg over the joints but some of the mine-shafts would still be passable, no doubt. For the first exploring insect who raises its head in the tight echoless passages. The day comes when it is all restored, even to the moss (now dead) over the wound. You will sleep badly, thinking of the removal of the scaffolding that must begin the next morning. How you will hope for sun and a still day!

The removal of the scaffolding or tackle is not a dangerous, perhaps, to the surroundings, as its installation, but it presents problems. It should be taken from the spot piece by piece as it is detached, and stored at a distance. You have come to accept it there, around the tree. The sky begins to look naked as the chains and struts one by one vacate their positions. Finally the moment arrives when the last sustaining piece is removed and the tree stands again on its own. It is as though its weight for a moment stood on your heart. You listen for a thud of settlement, a warning creak deep in the intricate joinery. You cannot believe it will hold. How like something dreamed it is, standing there all by itself. How long will it stand there now? The first breeze that touches its dead leaves all seems to flow into your mouth. You are afraid the motion of the clouds will be enough to push it over. What more can you do? What more can you do?

But there is nothing more you can do.

Others are waiting.

Everything is going to have to be put back.

–W. S. Merwin

Irish Heritage and Cultural Celebration Video

The clip above is from the New York City Council’s “Irish Heritage and Cultural Celebration,” hosted by Council President and Speaker Christine Quinn and held on Tuesday, March 9th. Quinn’s support for Relatives for Justice and the struggle for truth was a fantastic way to celebrate the vote on policing and justice!

Quinn invited RFJ Chair Clara Reilly to bring the RFJ Remembering Quilt to display in New York City Hall during the St. Patrick’s Day season. Below is the text of Clara’s speech, for which she received a standing ovation from the crowd:

I want to thank the speaker, Christine Quinn, for the invitation to exhibit two panels of the Remembering Quilt here in New York City hall.

There are currently 9 quilts with 49 patches on each quilt. Over 3,000 people have worked on the quilts with several members of each family contributing to each square. I would like to reaffirm what Christine said about taking time to view the quilts and realize that each square represents a life lost and a family’s grief.

In 1994 following the ceasefire RFJ began to examine the relationship between the lack of truth and justice families had experienced, the impact of violence and the effects of trauma in their lives.

People remembered on the quilt were killed with impunity. Some families are still seeking to have inquests held even after 30 years. Many are still seeking the truth about the deaths of their loved ones. Every person killed as result of the conflict, regardless of their religion, politics or circumstances, are worthy of recognition and acknowledgement. There should be no hierarchy of victims. I want to acknowledge the presence of the Clinton, Gilbraid and Heaney families who all live in the New York metropolitan area and who have never seen the quilts or the squares dedicated to their loved ones.

The square is not really about how these people died but about who they were – did they play a musical instrument? Did they work in a specialized trade? Or did they simply enjoy a pint of Guinness or play a game of Bingo? One of the squares on one of the quilts is of a 15-year-old boy, Brian Kelly, who was in his grandmother’s house after they had just put up the Christmas tree. Killers burst in and shot Brian dead. His grandmother never put up another Christmas tree again. But, when it came time to make his square, the first thing she wanted was a Christmas tree.

Joseph Murphy had just visited his 7-month pregnant wife in hospital and was on his way home when a car drew up beside him and he was shot dead. When the news reached his family home his father, also named Joseph, collapsed and died. They were both buried together several days later. Every time I look at Joseph’s square on the quilt I am reminded how much this young man resembles the Kennedys.

The mother of the hunger striker Tom McElwee, had knitted him a sweater while he was in prison. On his square she incorporated some of the wool used on the sweater and part of his shirt.

Another mother had put a lovely picture of her son wearing a black leather tie. In his square she surrounded it with the actual leather tie.

One young girl who lost her father used part of her wedding dress to design her square.

These are the reasons why the quilts are so precious. So much thought and love have gone into the creation of these beautiful works of art.

Caroline, I know this event is to celebrate Irish heritage and culture so I would like to recall the visit of your father to Ireland in 1963. My father, who had been interned and held without trial in the forties, was watching on an old black and white TV your father delivering one of his speeches. My father started to cheer and applaud and when I asked him why, he said, “Listen to the man. The president of the United States is talking about Ireland’s endless years of oppression”. Your father then said, “We need men who can dream of things that never were and ask why not”. We still need men and women of good will who will stand shoulder to shoulder to defend human rights, social justice and reconciliation in our peace process.

The importance of remembering cannot be underestimated. “Death is the end of life as we know it. But, it is not the end of memory. Each person killed has a right to live on in what they did, who they were and the reasons for their deaths. To forget would be the worst offense to their memories”. We will not forget those on the quilts whose lives were cruelly taken from us. We will remember them with love and pride and hold them close within our hearts.

Go raibh maith agat

A great article in the Daily News today that highlights the experiences of a couple of the Haitian members of Brother High Kanaval.

As Wilgainson Toussaint played horn for Brother High Full Tempo at Klub 45 above Connolly’s Pub in Times Square last week, he did so with a heavy heart.

The 18-piece Haitian rara band was one of more than a dozen groups that played a special benefit Wednesday night to raise funds for earthquake-ravaged Haiti.

Toussaint, 34, an unemployed livery cabdriver from Brooklyn, lost two cousins, three uncles, two aunts, countless friends and Milan Jeune - the mother of his 8-year-old son, Mike - all of whom lived in Port-au-Prince.

“I love my music, but my heart is torn when I think about my son being alone and losing family members,” he said after the band had played a rousing instrumental.

Read more here.

I had the pleasure of joining the organization Irish American Writers & Artist almost immediately upon relocating to Brooklyn. IAWA is a unique organization in the city which is not only highlighting Irish American artists, writers, actors and so forth, but one that is “committed both to bringing together the Irish American creative community in new self-awareness and to being a force for inter-ethnic and interracial solidarity, understanding and active cooperation.” From the IAWA mission statement:

In the long tradition of Irish resistance to oppression and struggle for liberty, IAW&A supports free speech, the rights of immigrants, the equality and dignity of all—regardless of race, gender, religion or sexual orientation—and the process of peaceful, positive social change in the U.S., Ireland and around the world. While avoiding party affiliation and endorsing no candidates for public office, IAW&A is outspoken in defense of artistic freedom, human rights and social justice.

My friend, author Michael Patrick MacDonald, invited me to join the first IAWA planning session for a fundraiser for Haiti following the devastating earthquake on 12 January, and we held “Relief for Haiti: Island People Supporting Island People” last Wednesday, February 24th at Connolly’s Bar.

We were able to bring together an incredible lineup–with musicians like Black 47, Moya Brennan and Ashley Davis, and authors like TJ English, Gary Shteyngart and Colum McCann. One of the highlights of the event was Haitian American band Brother High Kanaval (pictured above). In what turned out to be an amazing simple twist of fate, I was able to contribute to the success of the evening in my role as finance officer by facilitating a targeted, fast-track grant to Concern from the Irish government (by way of Irish Consul General Niall Burgess) in the amount of $50,000. All of the proceeds from the night–an overwhelming $107,500+–went to Concern Worldwide’s humanitarian efforts in Haiti.

What a tremendous night, what a success! I can’t wait for what comes next.