By Norbert Chiazor
Have you read Things Fall Apart? The nostalgia of Chinua Achebe and the phenomenon of wondrous writings hit me transfixed,as I stood in awe inside Dublin Writers Museum in the Republic of Ireland.
The transcendal experience – a journalism pilgrimage. It was one eventful Wednesday morning under a mild bright Irish weather,simmering with a coming summer.
I was standing before my greatest fascination in Dublin.
In the palatial bowel of the museum set in 18th century Georgian architecture lay sumptuous spectacle portraits,works and intimate personal effects of world greatest writers.
Jonathan Swift, (Gulliver’s Travels) James Joyce, (Ulyssess) Samuel Becket,(Waiting for Godot ) William Butler Yeats, (The Second Coming) Oscar Wilde, (The Importance of Being Earnest) and George Bernard Shaw (Caesar and Cleopatra).
Perhaps Chinua Achebe could not have written Things Fall Apart if not for Yeats.I marvelled as I glanced at the opening lines of Yeats The second coming:
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre.The falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things Fall Apart,the centre cannot hold.Mere Anarchy is loosed upon the world”
If Dublin prides itself as the birth place of Nobel Prize winners,as aptly designated by UNESCO, the Irish capital can win a million dollars award as the hotspot of global fun and entertainment.No city combines culture and sophistication like the capital of Ireland, British oldest colony.
I have seen Paris,the gracious towers,the radiance,its breath-taking urbanization, high fashion,sensational cuisine and romantic boulevards. I love South Africa with its matchless Eurocentric flavour seasoned by glamourous Johannesburg,the city of gold.Nkrummah’s Ghana is a delight to see.Its vibrant political culture and buzzing night life resonates with energy and camaraderie.I have come face to face with the royal splendour of Great Britain,mystified by an enchanting monarchy.
But nothing compares to the eerie charm of Dublin.An amazing city depicting eclectic mix of pop culture and medieval history,modernity and tradition in a subtle coalescence of the past and the present.
From my temporary residence at the heart of Dublin,a dazzling neat spacious room,on the 4th floor of Jury’s Inn,I had a panoramic view of the entire city.Opposite,stood one of the oldest religious sanctuaries in Europe,Christ Church Cathedral with its hair-raising medieval crypt built one thousand years ago!
As I took pictures of the ancient church,I thought of Urhokpota hall in Benin City, Edo State which recently marked 100 years of existence,I remembered the National Theatre in Lagos with its decay a tragic national embarrassment.Then I laughed.Nigeria has historical monuments but we are quick to destroy our heritage
Dublin castle,Irish iconic seat of government famed for its Olympian Norman courtyard and circular pillars is still spark and clean after standing for centuries.Temple bar,Dublin’s age old most famous entertainment resort at the city centre never sleeps.
With its historical sites,Dublin is more than a city. It is a dream land. Ireland is no man’s land as far as human brotherhood and equality are concerned.The long wars,oppression and social misery, the Irish fought, against the Vikings and British invaders explain the natural simplicity and boisterous spirit of Dubliners.
Irish people are generally warm,friendly and sociable.For the indulgent fun seeker,you can always sip a complimentary pint of stout if you care to visit the Gravity bar at the world famous Guinness Breweries at Saint James gate.
A fantastic Irish journalist invited me to an orchestra concert,hosted by gay men! All dressed in black tuxedo,bow tie and immaculate white shirt,they lit up the night with soulful violins and billows of bagpipes amidst generous servings of champagnes and Irish cream.
For courtesy,I honoured the invitation.I am not gay and will never be. Courteous host.My Irish guy and his hundreds of friends did not at anytime force me to pull my trousers.I am a man with balls.Wonderfully made for woman only!
Class consciousness is rare in Dublin.A lawmaker,TD Mick Wallace, the equivalent of a Nigerian Senator was arrested by the regular police, called Gardai for a minor traffic offence.The Sunday Independent and Irish Times made a feast of the story.
The President of Ireland Michael D. Higgins came to address local and foreign Journalists at a crowded Dublin Civic Centre with a lone escort- an orderly. No army of security men or hordes of overzealous aides accompanied him.
Top government officials and politicians in Ireland,the ranks of Senators and cabinet ministers in Nigeria live and move casually without airs,among ordinary folks.One car at a time.Simple sedan.Not I60 million Naira SUV.
The media in Ireland both government interests and private owned do not align their Television bulletins or Newspaper headlines to give prominence to the president or other powerful political leaders.The news is not on personalities but people and circumstances.
I took so much from my sojourn in Ireland,meeting Jim Boumelha, president of international federation of journalists,IFJ and supported commendably by continental NGO,African Media Barometer.
But one treasure from Ireland I would live to hold dear,is a fanciful memorabilia,with the shape of a big spoon.In the wide surface of the white green flowery ceramic spoon is inscribed the following words:
“Wherever you go,whatever you do
may the luck of the Irish,be there for you”
The “Irish blessing” is now displayed in a conspicuous corner in my living room.
Chiazor, former Chairman, Nigeria Union of Journalists, now Executive Assistant to Delta Governor.
