Ann Allan: Ann in Wonderland (with apologies to Lewis Carroll)

imageIt was a pleasant Sunday morning and I was reading Newton Emerson’s piece in the Sunday Times. My eyes felt heavy and just as I nodded off I noticed a white rabbit beckoning me to follow him. Within a few minutes we were on the steps of Stormont. “You are looking for a job, I believe” he said.  “Well yes” I said, but I don’t think I’d get one here”.  “Have you stood for election? ” he asked. ” No” I replied. “Well you shouldn’t have a problem then, great jobs going here to non-elected personage ” I’ll bring you up to the members dining room. There’s a tea party today. You can see what you’d be letting yourself in for ” The White rabbit disappeared and I found myself in the dining room at the Mad Hatters tea party.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. ” I’m the ‘heed bummer’ here” , he said “Mitchel’s my name.” Having studied Ulster Scots at the University of Life I knew this meant he was a man not to be reckoned with. “Let me show you around ”  he said “but be careful,  Arlene, the Red Queen is looking to behead someone today. She found a tricolour flying on the roof this morning.” ” I will”  I said,” I will”. This is such a weird place, I thought.

The white rabbit suddenly appeared carrying a large clock.  ” What’s that for” I asked. “Well I need to know when the next deadline is for ending the tea party and there are so many I need to carry a clock to keep up ” ” Good thinking” I said. This was one intelligent rabbit!
“Ok” the head case, sorry the heed bummer said. ” This is the Mad Hatters Tea Party. Happens most days around three. ” Why are they not working? ” I asked.”  Er, yes, well, you see this is how we differ from the real world. We don’t actually work if we don’t feel like it. imageYou see the DUP over there. Some strange characters in that group.”
“Why are they wearing clothes pegs on their noses ” I asked. “Well they couldn’t stand the smell of some of the other parties and they couldn’t keep holding their noses and feed at the corporate trough at the same time, so Gryphon Poots came up with the idea of the clothes pegs.” I noticed one of their number had fallen asleep at the table and he was talking in his sleep. I think he was talking about how he was cleared of something and was going to vote for same-sex marriage to prove he wasn’t homophobic. Ok! Well it is a dream!
“That’s a very attractive lady pouring tea for the King ” I said. ” Yes, that’s little pengelly, the Kings favourite.” ” Why would that be? ” I asked. ” Rearrange this ” he said. ” skeletons, knows, are, buried, where.” Thinking back it dawned on me now  why security had a woman called Red Ruth in a strangle hold as she tried to march her way down the rabbit hole.
At that moment the dupers broke into singing

. 🎶 A very unhappy birthday to you, to you.🎶

” Surely that should be

🎶very happy unbirthday to you, to you 🎶 I ventured.

” Not when you are a member of the DUP ” he replied. They live by the word of the bible. ” But twiddledum Campbell and twiddledee Wilson are tucking into an open prawn sandwich” I said. “I don’t see any slaves, imagewell with the exception of Jeffrey the dormouse, and the only one with a beard is Simple Simon. ” Cherry pick quite a bit,  they do” he smiled and for a minute or two Mitchell disappeared leaving only the grin behind.image

Turning to the next table I saw a man dressed like a caveman. “Who is that?” I asked mien host who had materialised again.” That’s the Knave of Hearts, used to work in TV. Says he’s on the wrong side of history but he’s not exactly sure which era. Since he didn’t go to Specsavers he seems to have lost his way. Had a falling out with the King of Hearts. Used to be best buddies, even made a voting pact but then the Knave got ambitious and orchestrated a walk out.”

I was beginning to feel quite giddy and realised I hadn’t eaten for a while. There was a cake sitting on one of the tables with the words ‘EAT ME’ written on it. “Don’t” shouted Mitchel. “Stephen the Jabberwocky Nolan eats that before interviewing politicians on his radio show.  Makes him rant and rage and when he gives them a bite the whataboutery that spews from their mouths is unbelievable”  Yuck, I thought, I’ll give that a miss.image

“Would you like to say something on periscope?” came a voice from behind me. I’m on a submarine now I thought. But no it was one of the frog footmen. Basil was his name. He periscopes quite a lot and wonderland is an ideal place from which to broadcast. No idea why he had a pair of curtains behind him.

“Come with me,” said my host. He led me over to a table with a green, white and gold tablecloth. I was introduced to Marti the White King and Catriona the softly spoken White Queen. They were speaking in Irish and I was sorry I hadn’t studied it harder when I was at school. Sitting on the table was a little bottle with ‘DRINK ME ‘ written on it. ” What happens if you drink that “I asked Mitchel. “Well, we shinners take a sip of that every morning,” he said  ” It has amazing powers. It allows us to believe that every word we utter is true. Gerry the caterpillar drinks it by the imagegallon. I asked him if they understood English as I needed to say something to the lady shinners. ” Go ahead ” he said. “They’ll know what you’re saying. “Peter Mark is offering 20 per cent off cut and blow- drys at the moment.” I declared. “Off with her head” came the chant so I quickly moved off to visit the SDLP and the Alliance. They were sitting on fences rather than chairs. It seemed that they had been sitting there quite a while from the pained expression on some of their faces. There wasn’t much happening so I headed back to look for the White Rabbit.

I noticed then that there was a table far removed from everyone. ” That’s Jim the Red King. “Mitchell explained ” he likes nobody and nobody likes him. Always scowling, never lets his hair down, speaking figuratively of course.”

I heard a series of grunts and groans emanating from his direction. I got the impression this is one unhappy man.

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in this place.  I knew I was dreaming but couldn’t wake up.  As I wondered around looking for a way out of the many doors in the room I passed a large caterpillar sitting on a mushroom. “Gerry’s my name “he said. “I’m waiting here to turn into a butterfly.”  He was knocking back the truth drink  in copious quantities and smoking on a hookah. “I wouldn’t hold my breath ” I said. He started throwing mushrooms at me and thankfully woke me up. Thank goodness I thought it  was only a dream. Happy that none of this could happen in the waking world I went back to reading  Newton’s article.

Only 10 days to save the Assembly read the headline. “Sugar” I thought “maybe I wasn’t dreaming after all”

With apologies to Lewis Carroll.

Jayne Olorunda: The Victim Maker

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I doubt that the content of my blog will go down well, but I don’t care. No longer can I watch as NI carries on regardless. Serious issues are ignored as it doesn’t suit the peacetime image that the country wants to project. Yet by not addressing and acting on issues, we risk the mental and physical health of others and we risk creating more victims. This time not of sectarian hate but of race hate. The last few months have seen hundreds of good people marching in support of accepting refugees, brandishing banners and proclaiming refugees are welcome here. Yet did anyone ever stop to think if refugees would really be welcome here? Did anyone stop to wonder how their lives will be, what they will experience in a year, two years or more when they are ‘settled’?

Last week we all watched the aftermath of yet another race hate attack, this time in East Belfast. The victim was asked how he felt. I didn’t need to hear his answer because I already knew. I felt the same, all the freshly prescribed diazepam in the world couldn’t stem the shaking or feelings of inadequacy that one is assailed with after being belittled and abused for something they cannot change. So many new arrivals here are left shaken, vulnerable and isolated due to attacks based on little more than the colour of their skin. In today’s world many cannot go back home as they are often told. And yet NI is taking more. May I suggest that a country once deemed the race hate capital of Europe would not be the ideal to choice to settle already traumatised people. Alongside my own experience, recent months imagealso saw a well known Belfast writer attacked in his own home and friends of mine called names on the street. The common denominator? Nothing more than the colour of their skin.

Incidents like this only confirm that we cannot even accept those of colour who were born and bred here. If we cannot accept ‘our own’ then how on earth can anyone argue that we are advanced enough to accept newcomers? Part of me wants to leave and certainly as the sensible option I have considered this, but it in my current predicament it is hard. It isn’t easy to accept that the country of my  birth doesn’t want me, the same country that stripped me of a father and made me a carer. As a carer I cannot easily get up and leave but until now that was okay as race hate is taken very seriously, or so I thought.
In the last two years I urged anyone who suffered from a hate crime to report it, after all if these incidents aren’t reported they go unchallenged and stand a high likelihood of happening again. As the PSNI website proudly boasts “Hate Crime is wrong. To Stop it report it”. Race hate crime in particular is taken very seriously in NI, one only has to look to our politicians for affirmation of this. On an all too regular basis they are seen pledging to do more against race hate attacks, present at racial equality forum / talks and I imagine the opening of every anti racism envelope that exists. Yet is there any substance in their convictions? Well, the racial equality strategy would normally suggest so (if we ignore the delay in producing it). But it won’t be worth the paper it’s written on if our support agencies continue to let victims down or our government doesn’t fulfill the funding it promised. The very fact that OFMDFM funding for supporting ethnic minority groups has become so uncertain make it seem that their commitment is pretty fragile. Race hate crime can’t be prevented when the very funds allocated for support agencies are so unstable. All of the public appearances and photo opportunities in the world are not going to stop or prevent more racism here, however supporting funding just might.
Last year it was revealed that only 12 out of 14,000* reports of race related incidents in NI resulted in prosecution. For me this was a curious paradox as it is publicly known that victims are encouraged to report such cases. Then why on earth was the prosecution rate so low? If 14,000 people had the courage to report race hate crime then surely even allowing for unproven cases we would see more prosecutions.image

Could something in the processing of these cases be going wrong? A few weeks ago I was given the opportunity to find out. In essence my experience enabled me to test the system. I became a statistic.

So what really happens when you report a race hate crime in Northern Ireland? As we all are painfully aware the PSNI are stretched resource wise. Yet I could never fault the officers that received and initially dealt with my case. They were professional, sympathetic and courteous. For me it was after the first stages of reporting the incident that things begin to unravel. It began with the promise of a follow-up call the next day. After waiting 2 days I took the plunge and called myself. It emerged that my case had been given to the PSNI Central processing Unit (CPU) for allocation.  It seems it languished there. At the same time one of the suspects had committed to report into the station on a specified day. Did this happen? Who knows? Certainly not the CPU. As the case was yet to be allocated no one knew anything about it or if the person had even come to the station as arranged. I received my follow -up call a few days later. I am still waiting for the outcome. My next call from the PSNI was from a community officer who began the call sympathising with me about what had happened then later admitted knowing nothing of the incident. I wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.
My basic powers of deduction make me wonder if my experience in reporting a race hate incident is an isolated occurrence? Had my case had not languished for so long would things be different? I will never know, but one thing I am sure of is, that as the days since the incident occurred grew longer so too did the chances of the suspects creating a new order of events. My case is only one ( of which I am not at liberty to go into the details ), but am I wrong to believe that delays such as this must prevent prosecution?
On the night of the incident I was encouraged to seek prosecution, but as the time passed prosecution has now morphed into a glorified apology. Right now it seems I will be lucky to get even that. I can’t help think that if the CPU had been taken out of the equation and the very capable receiving officers had dealt with the case my outcome would have been different. How many more cases slip through the net because of being passed from pillar to post? I shudder to think. No wonder we have so few prosecutions for race hate crime.Suffice to say after reporting the incidence  I was afraid, so much so, that I regretted reporting it at all.

My conclusion really is rather bleak.

Could I say hand on heart to a refugee, asylum seeker or migrant that they would be safe here?  No.

Would I advise them to come here? No.

Would I encourage someone to report race hate? Perhaps.

However, I would ensure that their expectations are not high, I would tell them that their response may not be as coordinated as what Joe Public is lead to believe. I would tell them that NI remains entrenched in bitterness and cannot cope with it’s own hatred. Everyone knows that entrenched hatred cannot be easily erased.  If that were possible NI wouldn’t have the bomb scares, the murders and the sectarian riots that we see today. If it were indeed possible I might have known the person who gave me the skin tone that some here try so hard to make me ashamed of.  NI has a long way to go before any newcomer could truly settle here, it needs to clean up the aftermath of it’s indigenous hatred first. It needs to stop talking about looking after the victims (now not only of sectarianism but also of race hate) and until then anyone coming here will be fast on the path of becoming one of NI’s newest victims. Most important of all I would tell them that until NI properly commits to and tightens up its responses and actions to prevent race hate crime, then no, refugees are not welcome here. Quite simply they are not safe. To bring any innocent people here especially those fleeing violence would only create more victims. The last thing NI needs is more victims.

Stats: The Guardian 2014

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Ann Allan : Spotlight Special.

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Rewind that, I shouted to the hubby. I had, as usual, got my head in my iPad commenting on Twitter on something that was brought up in the Sunday politics show. I had just caught the end of the announcement. A special edition of Spotlight was going to be recorded on Tuesday 5th and viewers were invited to go apply for tickets. Hmm I though I fancy going to that. One of my usual companions for such an event was in Brighton running the gauntlet at the Conservative conference so I told the hubby,  sorry,  invited the hubby  to come along with me. A quick email was dispatched,  as requested,  and on Monday a reply was received asking me to ring the Beeb and give some personal details.  Well you would have thought I was trying to get into the White House! But having recruited audiences for similar shows in the past  I realised that a good cross-section is needed to balance the audience and the lady on the phone was extremely nice.  Hubby then got the same grilling and we were told we could collect our tickets at the door.

That was when I started worrying. What will I wear? Should I get my hair done?  Will we be seen in the audience?  Will the hubby look as if he’s enjoying himself?  Should I tell anyone to look out for us? Oh God, maybe we will be asked to ask a question!  Decided that the hair needed done and maybe a new top was called for.  However, on reflection, I went for the hair-do but opted for a black tee-shirt hoping I would blend in with the background.

Hubby was excited, ( grumpy about having to get up when he’d rather doze in his chair). Headed into town. Car parking was convenient but we didn’t have enough money for the machine. Tried phoning the number to pay with my credit card. The facility only had details for my old car. Tried three times to give my new registration number and every time the voice repeated an incorrect number.  Could tell the hubby was getting annoyed as he headed off to the cinema on the Dublin Road looking for change.image
Arrived at Blackstaff studios. Sorry  luv,  doors not open yet, come back at 6.30. With 15 mins to pass we headed down Gt.Victoria St.  Reminisced about how it looked in our day.  Where did all those restaurants come from?  As the rain started to fall I began to think this wasn’t such a good idea.
At 6.30 we we headed back to the studio and joined the queue. We showed our ID and were ushered into the waiting area. Unfortunately we were there for over an hour and were subjected to re-runs of old Spotlights so we were reminded of Asher-gate and some homophobic nonsense from Jeffrey Donaldson.

We were asked to write a question to put to the panel. I wanted to know that if Simon Hamilton maintains that the Health Service is working in his absence,  maybe we should be considering part-time Ministers. Save a fortune.  We also got a peep at who was on the panel. Gregory Campbell, Claire Hanna, Mike Nesbitt, Michelle O’Neill and I was delighted to see my friend Mairia Cahill was also on the panel. If it hadn’t been for Mairia I would never have started writing.  Look what you’d have missed.

The staff were lovely.  The floor managers went around talking to everyone ( about 100 in the audience ) thanking us for coming and making us feel comfortable.  A guy sitting next to us had his leg in a cast. He had been waiting for 18 months for an operation. Noel Thompson referred to him during the programme.
At about 7.30 we entered the recording studio and took our seats.  A well-known face from the past, Paddy O’Flaherty, came out to warm up the audience. After a light-hearted bit of banter we were instructed to raise our hands if we had something to say, clap if we liked a point and generally get involved.  As I’m still getting used to my new teeth I decided not to saying anything as I had visions of getting nervous, and my teeth flying across the studio in full view of the tv cameras.
Mr. Suave himself, Noel Thompson, appeared and took his seat together with the other panelists. In the glare of powerful overhead lights the show was about to start. But wait, we heard Noel speak to the producer. He hadn’t got a script. A floor runner was hastily dispatched to get the script which imageapparently  was still being typed. A few minutes later and we were off. No hitches and straight through the recording. All ready for transmission later on Tuesday evening.  All very professional. It was also noticeable that having three female members on the panel resulted in a more reasoned and tempered debate.
Came out to a wet but warm evening and headed for home to watch the recording. Ok watch the recording to see if we could spot ourselves ( we did ). What is the fascination with seeing yourself on the tv?
All in all it was an enjoyable experience and one which I ( and him) would like to repeat.

You can watch a recording of the programme at

http://bbc.in/1RtWeIF