Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Fenian Avenger - Chapter 2-a

Dublin, Ireland
October Present

Dublin: a city of contrast.
For over twenty years, Dublin existed as such and not about to change any time soon.
The city was the heritage Mecca gateway for the many Americans, Canadians, and Australians who traced their ancestral roots to Ireland. The mystical tie lived in the hearts of the descendant Irish, a song called from abroad, and even drove them to hyphenate their nationality secondary to their Irish roots, such as in Irish-American.
This Dublin appealed and attracted millions of tourists, and reaped the benefit of this industry. The commercial pubs boasted authentic Irish drink and song, the trendy shopping districts around St. Stephen’s Green in which tourists paid top dollar for Irish depression-wear, and the festivals and shows with the happy dancing and singing Irish people everywhere. Certain citizens made money hand over fist in such ventures. A jumble of different architecture styles, Dublin lacked a distinct visual identity of its own. Due to the charm and personality of its people, Dublin remained a travel destination.
The west knew this Dublin. The western world loved this Dublin.
Another Dublin existed.
The other Dublin revolved around a country where no self-supporting industry other than being Irish existed. A full thirty percent of the people in this Dublin found themselves out of work. Add another forty percent of the population under-employed. These statistics revealed despair, hopelessness, shame, pain, and depression as the chief industry in Dublin. Irish media referred to the economic disaster as The Drop, meaning everything dropped including the stock market, the housing industry, job market, and the mood of the country. Depression led to drinking. Drinking led to anger. Anger led to fighting. Every night, the local precinct jails filled with alcoholic fighting Irish. A drunken tank full of unconscious Irish people did not present a prime tourism poster. The situation in the rural countryside even exceeded Dublin, where poverty affected nearly everyone without the urban diversity to sustain industry when the prime way of life dried up.
Even the long-standing hatred of the British and the struggle between the Green and the Orange motivated Ireland out of this misery. Cultural pride and aggression inspired few parades since the commencement of the depression. Neither malevolent nor benign causes mustered enough organizational emotion to boast or taunt on the streets.
The masses showed their despair in their carriage and demeanor. Any pedestrian street in Dublin consisted of people too desolate to look at another. The people resembled a shambled and ragged lot, who searched for work, and waited in line at the parish soup kitchens. They existed from one waking moment to another before the end of the day to drown their sorrows in ale.

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