Cage 11 and The Twelfth

 

Cage 11 and The Twelfth

This is an article I wrote in February 1977 while Iwas Cage Eleven in Long Kesh. Here it is again for the season that’s in it. It’salso contained  in Cage Eleven, published by Brandon Books.  

 

        How it started - Long Kesh 1971

The Twelfth

We were seated in our usual spot beside the showerhut. Cedric had successfully killed another conversation: all afternoon he hadbeen spewing forth useless pieces of information, contradicting and takingissue with everything anyone said. When he gets contrary like that we usuallykeep quiet and wait for him to go away. He refused to leave, so we sat togetherin silence.

Outside on the Blaris Cemetery Road an Orangemanwas beating his brains out on a Lambeg drum. Egbert was moved to break up ourdummies’ meeting.

“Did youse ever hear Seamus Heaney’s poem aboutOrange drums?”

Faced with the eloquence of our silence he clearedhis throat.

“Listen to this.”

“The Lambeg balloons at his belly, weighs
Him back on his haunches, lodging thunder
Grossly there between his chin and his knees.
He is raised up by what he buckles under.

Each arm extended by a seasoned rod,
He parades behind it. And though the drummers
Are granted passage through the nodding crowd,
It is the drums preside, like giant tumours.

To every cocked ear, expert in its greed,
His battered signature subscribes ‘No Pope’.
The goatskin’s sometimes plastered with his blood.
The air is pounding like a stethoscope.”

“How does that grab youse, eh?” Egbert smiledaround at us, “it’s very good, isn’t it?”

Cedric sneered contemptuously at us all, at Heaney,at the sound of the Lambeg which continued to beat its way into Long Kesh and,of course, at Egbert. “They use pigskin, not goatskin,” he retorted. “There’san oul’ lad in Sandy Row makes them.”

“I used to watch them at it all the time. OneEleventh night I walked the whole length of the Shankill.” He paused at ouramused and doubting grins. “Nawh … Like, it was before the troubles. About1965. It was safe as a row of houses then.”

“That’s what has me in here.” It was Egbert’s turnto sneer. “That’s what he told me when he sent me out. ‘An easy job’ he toldme. ‘You’ll be safe as a row of houses,’ he said. It’s a pity he didn’t tellthe judge.”

We laughed as Cedric, finally needled into silence,glared across at Egbert. Outside the Lambeg continued its primitive tattoo.

“I hear the loyalist cages are having a Twelfthparade,” I volunteered, anxious lest Egbert and Cedric stop talking altogether.“They’ve got wood an’ all gathered in their cage for the Eleventh night. Itshould be a good craic.”

“Aye” said Egbert, “it’ll be quare craic all right!I remember when we used to live down the Grosvenor Road all my mates wereOrangies. I used to go round with them collecting wood and stuff for theTwelfth bonfires.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” restored Cedric. “Yourones probably took the soup as well.”

“Yahoo” Your man laughed, “that’s a bit near thebone.”

“Wha’ d’ye mean?” I asked, hunkering up against theside of the shower hut and edging out of the sun and into the shade. “Wha’ d’yemean, his ones took the soup.”

“They sold their Os for penny rolls and their Macsfor bits of hairy bacon,” Cedric recited.

“He’s trying to say that we Anglicised our namesfor a bowl of soup and a crust. It’s his idea of a joke,” said Egbert.

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Your Man consoled. “He thinkshe’s descended from the ancient Kings of Ireland.”

“So I am. From the King Of Ulster.”

“With a name like Cedric?” Egbert challenged.

The rest of us smiled. Outside the camp on theCemetery Road the Lambeg continued its hollow staccato.

“What we need is a thirty two county Ulster,” YourMan suggested. Cedric was nonplussed.

“Do youse know what was the most importantconsequence of the Battle of the Boyne?” he asked.

“No conferring and you have twenty seconds toanswer.” Mimicked Egbert. “Right Magnus?”

Cedric glared at him. “OK, Brains Trust,” he saidscornfully.

“The thing with the Battle of the Boyne was thatthe old Gaelic system was finally forced onto its knees, and the ProtestantAscendancy was established by depriving and exploiting everyone else,” hecontinued. “Youse probably think that the Boyne and the Twelfth is aboutreligion. It’s not: it’s about power.”

“It’s really the First, you know,” Egbertinterrupted, “the Twelfth took place on the First. I mean the Battle of theBoyne took place on the First of July, not the Twelfth.”

“Well the Orangemen like it on the Twelfth. Itsuits their holidays better,” Your man grinned.

“They don’t even know what they’re celebrating,”sneered Cedric. “D’youse know that the Pope supported King Billy?”

He looked round at us. Your man handed round asnout tin. (A tobacco tin.) While we made roll-ups (cigarettes) the sound ofthe dinner lorry unloading its cargo of goodies at the cage gate drowned outthe noise of the Lambeg drum.

“We’re on the tap for a bit of home cooking,” BigMarshall and Cleaky shouted over to us as they trundled towards the gate tocollect the day’s rations. “Any of youse get a parcel today?”

“Nawh,” Your Man replied, squinting into the sun atthem and then back again to Cedric. “Them two’s always on the tap,” hemuttered.

Cedric was unaffected by the distraction. He took along drag on his cigarette as he continued his narrative.

“It was King Billy and the Pope against King Jamesand the King of France. The Pope paid part of Billy Boy’s expenses and whennews of his victory at the Boyne reached Rome a Te Deum was sung at theVatican, and there were celebrations in the other main Catholic cities, too.”

Long Kesh - H-Blocks in foreground and internee and sentenced Cages behind. Thousands went through the Cages and Blocks.

Cedric looked around at us again. “Look lads, ifyouse don’t believe me read any half-decent history book.”

“He’s right,” Egbert to our surprise agreed. “He’sright on the button for once. That’s what happened.”

Cedric looked at him suspiciously. “Aye but do youknow why it happened?”

Before anyone could answer he went on. “PopeInnocent …”

“Anything to Paddy innocent in the half-hut?”Egbert chuckled.

“Pope Innocent,” Cedric repeated with only a slightedge to his voice, “Pope Innocent supported the Dutchman, William, againstJames after the English Parliament sacked James and invited William to take onthe job. James teamed up with the King of France to try to get his throne backand he and William fought for it in Ireland. The Pope and all the rest wantedto curb the power of France.”

“All this history’s a bit boring,” Your Man yawned.

“It’s the way he tells it,” said Egbert.

“Do you think that eejit out there beating the hellout of his drum knows all about the Pope and King Billy?”

“Nawh. Well to be honest, I don’t know. Like youdidn’t know it yourself, did you?”

Your Man nodded his ignorance. Outside the camp theLambeg continued its rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. Your Man whistled in time to thebeat. “But I’m not an Orangeman, am I?” he said eventually.

“That’s no excuse for not knowing your ownhistory,” Cedric declared in his most professorial tone of voice. “It’s nowonder the country’s the way it is.”

“Awk take a grip of yourself, will ye.” Egbertspluttered.

“It’s all right.” Your Man said, “I’m well used tohis slabbering.”

“Hold on, hold on,” I chided, “take it easy. It’stoo good a day for arguing.”

“I agree,” said Cedric loftily. “Youse uns shouldhave a wee bit more come and go in youse.”

“My arse”, grunted Egbert.

“Ach, c’mon, let it go.” Your Man soothed.

“I was going to say,” said Cedric, “I was going tosay that after the Boyne – the grand alliance between King Billy and the Pope –all religions were banned except the Episcopalian Church.”

“You’re joking, you’re having us on,” Egbertexclaimed in disbelief.

“And what’s more,” Cedric persisted, “religioustolerance, among other things, was dropped when the English broke the Treaty ofLimerick. Youse uns are good examples of that type of intolerance.” He pulledhimself to his feet. “Youse can have it,” he huffed.

“Ach, come on,” Your Man and I pleaded. “Sit down,don’t be taking the Nick. Sit down and enjoy the sun.”

“Aye, sit down comrade,” Egbert said grudgingly.Cedric hesitated but then sat down again, slowly and peevishly.

“No surrender,” hissed Egbert. “Not an inch,” hewhispered in disgust. “You’re as staunch as a bucket of snow.”

“Cedric carry on, carry on with ur story,” Your Mansaid quickly and magnanimously.

Cedric started again. Egbert sighed. I settledmyself once more in the shade of the shower hut. Your Man stretched himself onthe tarmac. Outside the camp on the Blaris Cemetery Road the Lambeg continuedits musical monotone, and Cedric went on, and the beating of the drum went on,and the sound of Cedric’s voice and the beating of the drum went on. And on.And on. And on.