I AM currently doing some family research on my maternal grandfather, George Power of Fermoy, Co Cork, who was very active during the War of Independence. So I often wonder what kind of Ireland they dreamed of, these men and women who took such huge risks almost a century ago.
Enda Kenny spoke of it being the 90th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty in his state of the nation address on Sunday. As he waffled on, speaking but telling us nothing, I could hear the distant rumble of bodies turning in their republican plots all over Ireland. He finished up his lacklustre performance by telling us how we are now poised to make our way to recovery and the fulfilment of the dreams of our children.
Well Enda, my eldest child is currently dreaming of getting the sponsorship that will enable her to remain in Australia. And she is one of thousands.
He also told us it wasn’t our fault the country is banjaxed. I never thought it was my fault. Did you?
By Monday I was wondering should I adopt a policy of not listening or watching any of “Budget 2012 – The Movie”. I was already very cross about the possible reductions in child benefit and lone parent allowance which had been floated in the media the previous week – cuts that would mainly affect women and children.
But Pat Kenny reeled me in to The Frontlinewhere I learned that "the devil is in the detail". Lone parents were indeed going to be particularly badly hit, along with the vulnerable elderly and the disabled. As my eyes glazed over and the room got cold, I decided to call it a night.
Tuesday brought us “Budget 2012 – the Sequel”. This time I decided to watch the speeches live. I was hopeful Michael Noonan might just deliver a stellar performance.
I was waiting to hear something tangible that I could report with real cheerfulness to my self-employed husband – as opposed to the rather badly faked positivity I try to instil in him regularly.
My mantra is “we have to live in the moment. At the moment we are OK.” But three years on, it’s beginning to ring hollow. Would Michael Noonan provide me with a new mantra?
He kicked off by once again revisiting the Treaty and then things went south as he droned on and on. He mentioned proudly, and often, that “our” paypackets would be the same in January as they were in December. But when you are self- employed that means nothing.
There was an incentive to encourage first-time buyers to get into the housing market in 2012 – but who the hell is going give them the mortgage? The banks?
All the while, waiting in the wings, jackets off, were the boyos of Sinn Féin. Finally Pearse Doherty rose to his feet and took charge of the House in a way that not even Noonan had managed. He roared into action, morphing into Gaeilge and back to Béarla effortlessly. He directed his speech at Kenny whom he referred to, in his Donegal lilt, as “Teesha”. He once again stated that this Government was bailing out bondholders while expecting the disabled, single parents and the elderly to pick up the tab.
He seemed to be speaking directly to me when he sketched perfectly the pain of emigration by referring to the empty chair at the Christmas dinner table. I am still getting over having to package presents to send to the other side of the world instead of placing them under the Christmas tree.
As I listened to his passionate and energetic response to Noonan, the realisation dawned on me, slowly, that for the first time ever, Sinn Féin was speaking for me. I would usually have found myself aligned with Labour. Am I now a Shinner? Isn’t a budget afternoon a long time in politics all the same?
Many of my friends were very angry after the general election when Joan Burton was “only” offered the Department of Social Protection, and not Finance.
I argued that a woman in charge of social welfare would perhaps bring an empathy to that department that was to be welcomed.
Doherty read my mind as he highlighted the irony of a woman presiding over such savage cuts, particularly to lone parents – the vast majority of whom are women.
Quite simply Pearse Doherty was the only politician with his finger on the pulse of what I am feeling; that this budget is not creative and is not fair.
This budget hurts women and leaves me (like partners all over Ireland) still struggling alone in my attempts to keep my self employed “other half” positive and motivated.
In December 1921 some of the brightest lights in the “Shinners” went to Downing Street and negotiated with one of the most powerful nations on earth to secure our country’s somewhat imperfect freedom.
Ninety years later and I wonder who among our politicians will fight to regain Ireland’s fiscal freedoms from the mighty European authorities and so begin the process of ensuring fairness in this little country of ours.
And what, I ask myself, would old George have made of it at all?
Barbara Scully writes a blog, From My Kitchen Table. As @barbarascully, she is a prolific tweeter