"And Hope and History Rhyme"

Last week, all of the study abroad students took a day trip to Cork to see the Cork City Jail! I really enjoyed the experience because the exhibits were interactive, especially with the audio guides we'd purchased. I'd never gone through a tour with a prerecorded audio guide, and I liked the idea of choosing, skipping, and controlling the volume of the narratives that played through the headphones. I loved watching everyone walk around rocking their popstar headphones! 

The narratives on the audio guides were recorded in different voices, and it really helped to bring the statues of characters to life. I also enjoyed getting to walk into cells, tour the corridors, and even took a picture of a dark gated off corridor, which revealed a statue (or real person, who knows?) wandering down the depths of the hallway. It was a little creepy because the jail was at the top of a hill in the city, away from the noise of traffic and people. 

Parts of the jail had fallen into disrepair, and the cold, drafty air seeped through the thick concrete and stone walls. After walking around the back of the castle and viewing the lone oval trodden deep into the ground in the exercise yard, rusted postings where prisoners were presumably chained up and whipped, and seeing the bars across windows definitely left an air of creepiness and despair. Had I not known it was a jail, I would have wanted to leave as soon as possible, from the context speaking volumes that some horrible things had happened to people here. 

This experience reminded me that the bad, as well as the good, must be told and remembered. I think the Irish do a fantastic job of telling these stories while acknowledging differences in opinion. There's something about Irish poetry, as it's so directly political yet it still sings the truths of the nation. This particular visit reminds me of the line that Heaney toes in this poem "The Cure at Troy." He writes:

The Cure at Troy

Human beings suffer 

They torture one another, 

They get hurt and get hard. 

No poem or play or song 

Can fully right a wrong 

Inflicted and endured. 

The innocent in gaols 

Beat on their bars together. 

A hunger-striker’s father 

Stands in the graveyard dumb. 

The police widow in veils 

Faints at the funeral home. 

History says, Don’t hope 

On this side of the grave… 

But then, once in a lifetime 

The longed-for tidal wave 

Of justice can rise up, 

And hope and history rhyme. 

So hope for a great sea-change 

On the far side of revenge. 

Believe that a further shore 

Is reachable from here. 

Believe in miracles 

And cures and healing wells. 

Call miracle self-healing: 

The utter, self-revealing 

Double-take of feeling. 

If there’s fire on the mountain 

Or lightning and storm 

And a god speaks from the sky 

That means someone is hearing 

The outcry and the birth-cry 

Of new life at its term. 

It means once in a lifetime 

That justice can rise up

And hope and history rhyme. 

His poem is both hopeful, yet acknowledges all of the horrible things humans have done in marching armies to peace. This parallels Yeats' "No Second Troy," where Helen of Troy is blamed for having destruction. I think Heaney's version is a more accessible (with less classic references) and truer picture of humanity. 

The rest of the day, after these reflections, was spent exploring Cork. We stopped in at the English Markets and a few stores, a pub, and then took a bus home. I really enjoyed my time here at the jail, as the stories were true to history and created such an innovative and interactive experience.