As published in my history column, Cork Independent,

23 April 2009

So there are now two roads of research, one through the satellite rural area of Inniscarra and the other through the city’s south eastern suburbs, both in the Lee valley but both in different human canvasses of settlement.

So the new road pulls me back to the city, my canvassing and climb through the Lee Valley’s ridges of Ballinlough – the journey brings me to new roads – the grassy valleys of farmhouse and farmland are replaced with vast tarmadamed roads jam-packed with houses and even more memories – memories bound up in concrete. The road in terms of time brings me to pre World War Two. I’m told by everyone were built by brothers Paddy and William Bradley i.e. in Pic Du Jer (the plaque at the entrance says 1938), Douglas Drive and Laurel Park. The Bradleys added Beechwood and Ardfallen once the war ended. The ordnance survey map hanging in Ballinlough Community Centre reveals further insights into the area’s development. The area had market gardens, which still exist next to Glencoo Gardens, still worked by an older generation of tractor, which I have seen in the vintage rallies in Dripsey. People who moved to this area when the houses were built talk about the intersection- the merging of the city boundary and the countryside.

I struggle in some parks with how the numbers on the doors are put together. They are out of sequence and I wonder why and imagine these houses as shiny pieces of architecture when they were first built. I struggle with stiff letter boxes and say that I will make the postman’s job easier by providing oil. The people I meet describe where they originally from – each resident brings their own memory to the parks I visit – the back stories come fast – each door opened presents a new face – a new stranger – the strangers come fast and in a session of knocking at doors presents new insights into people’s journeys through life, their family, grandchildren and that feeling of let down by national government. However, one can see how a suburb such as Ballinlough is a sought after area to live in, quiet, accessibility to services and alot of green spaces.

I finish and emerge from one park and encounter a whole new landscape. The walk stretches beyond the fact of knocking on people’s doors and saying vote for me. It is a kind of pilgrimage. I reminded by my friends it’s a numbers game. “You must reach the quota if you want to get elected”, my team reminds me. But that’s the thing, with every house; there is no guarantee of a vote. It’s a game of uncertainty. The other thing pressing on my mind is that fewer than fifty per cent of my ward only vote. But I’m not an accountant. I carry my own experiences into every garden path to the door. I’m a geographer cum historian, teacher and quasi anthropologist with a huge interest in developing the talents of people, heritage as a way of life, landscapes and memories and how they all interweave to create a sense of place. I bring those qualities up the garden paths. My feet push into the cold concrete of doorsteps as I ring the doorbell or ring the knocker. The ensuing shadow behind the door tells me to prepare, to stand tall and to smile. The door opens and the gauntlet of talking to a complete stranger is run. I marvel at the people – the young and old I encounter as I ask them where they are from and their commentaries on life.

In the last week, I was presented with older people originally from destinations from Mayo to Dublin to Spangle Hill/ Farranree. Immediately as I leave them, I remind myself that everyone has a story to tell and even in a concreted city estate, the sense of personal identity prevails but reflecting it has seemingly not been awoken or harnessed in many years. The now dead Celtic Tiger in its time created a very busy world for itself. In terms of community, it has created a veil of doubt of do we actually need it – a sort of we can live alone isolated policy (?)

Some people get straight to my point of visit. What is my platform? I point to my manifesto – the issues of jobs and retraining, more community participation, local government reform and enhancing heritage. I normally don’t get past one of the points as ideas as how the individual would solve the issue at hand flow. Others look at me and smile– but where these are great and important pillars to solve, they are the issues of a politician – the issues I present, for many years possibly causing the huge disconnect between the local government, the people running the city and the local resident.

However, my pilgrimage has got me engaged. I think of all the people I have met so far, think of my own traits, merge them all, shake them up, let simmer and form new angles of thought. Perhaps in these times a Councillor needs to be than just a figurehead or needs to do more than fix the roads or the local lights. The atmosphere I have encountered requires thought, leadership, working together and action. So I break the word ‘councillor’ up. So C is for caring the people, O is for opportunity, the creating of opportunities to enhance and bring forward the community, their sense of self development. U is for Understanding, that each person has their own view and in an estate of hundreds of people, the happy balance may not always be achieved. N is for needs, the needs of constituents but that being said a councillor does not have all the answers and is only as good as the support of its constituents. The next C is for community and the question that keeps entering my own thoughts – does the world need the concept of community? I is for ideas. In the times we live in, ideas are important to move forward- that thinking outside of the box. L is for listening and how important that is. The second L is for learning and continuous professional development. O is for the onus of responsibility that a councillor endures. R is for reaching out, which may turn local government to re-connect to its people that the term councillor is linked to its second definition. And coupled with that every few houses I come across a ‘jewel’, a leader with talents, an ally, someone to work with, someone with hope and someone with a passion that needs to be harnessed…

But time to move on – the vast landscapes of Cork’s south easterly suburbs await. “Sure I might give you a vote” says the last resident as he walks me out the pathway. Two metres to the left is the next door, another mini adventure of memory awaits…

To be continued…