IT’S no wonder The Ring of Gullion has been designated an area of outstanding natural beauty. It holds south Armagh in it’s arms and you can only but image it weeping for the people in its care during 50 years of the Troubles.
I can only imagine the contrast between the beauty of the hills and the fields, the changing colours during the year and the fear and the noise of shooting, mortars and, in the little village of Forkhill, the British army barracks and the constant thunder of helicopters landing inches from people's homes, skimming the rooftops and terrifying men, women and children.
Christine and Pat Toner survived through those days; many didn’t, and hundreds of others live with the legacy. For Christine, writing down her experiences has helped her cope and her fascinating book, A Different South Armagh, has gone into a second print.
It’s described on the cover as: ‘The true story of one woman’s experience, living between the British army and the IRA during the Troubles in south Armagh, Northern Ireland’.
When I visited the couple, who met when they were 15 and are obviously still very much in love, we talked about everything from cabbages to kings – well, not quite kings but Prince Charles and his visit to Mullaghmore. “Good for peace and good for tourism,” is Pat’s summing up, ever a man looking at the positive and never one to back down.
We were sitting over delicious sandwiches and tea, cake on the side, in the cosy kitchen of the house on Main Street, Forkhill, where Pat was born. A few miles away is the village of Crossmaglen where Christine grew up, the eldest of 12 children, “There were two doctors in the village so half of us went to one,” she laughed, “and the other half to the other”.
Her book highlights the changes she has seen, first of all growing up in The Square in the home of her grandparents, living above their greengrocer and confectioner shop. Being so close to the border, there was smuggling and stories of innocent derring-do. She paints a vivid picture of a wonderful childhood: the shop was the hub of the village; this was where she learned about life, experienced the excitement of the monthly fair, horse dealers travelling form far and wide. It was all a wonder to the 10-year-old child.
“Daz washing powder had just been introduced and the advertising slogan: ‘It’s new, it’s blue, and it does wonders for you.’” She relates how a newly married young man stood in the butcher's shop and was quizzed about how he and his wife were finding married life. “He announced that she was pregnant, adding: ‘She’s doing well: she washed her knickers in Daz and it’s done wonders for her.’”
Then came a different time. Dancing was important to these young people in the 50s but it became fearful during the border campaign when the IRA were blowing up customs posts, transformers and making raids on the police barracks. The couple were well known not only for their work within the community but also for their singing. They travelled to stages all round and were heard on radio but, she adds, it wasn’t long before they started to lose their carefree approach to life.
As a girl, Christine always loved having her hair done before a dance or a concert and this became her career, with hairdressing shops first in Crossmaglen, then in Jonesborough and eventually, when the Troubles prevented travelling during dangerous times, Pat set her up with a caravan beside the house so she was able to take appointments at home.
It was the beginning of having to rethink life because of the activity in the village and beyond. Working with her 13-year-old daughter Sheila, Christine explained how she was frightened when confronted by gunmen with hatred in their eyes and always the fear of being stopped at night and a proxy bomb being put in the car so it was a relief when she could continue her business in comparative safety.
In the early 60s Pat and Christine spent some time in England where Christine became hairdresser to George Formby’s wife but the tug of home was too much and they returned to live in Forkhill and bring up their five children. Pat immersed himself in GAA, the Civil Rights movement, the Newry and Mourne Council for 25 years and as chairman in 1985-86 he was part of a delegation to Washington in support of the Fund for Ireland in the build-up to the signing of the Angelo Irish Agreement.
He has seen the aftermath of the Troubles working with the Simon Community, the sadness of homelessness, alcoholism and suicide.
But time moves on. The barracks have been leveled, the helicopter pad lies unused and the wish is that the eight and a half acres will become a community area where playing fields will provide space for children and parks to offer a pleasant place for families to walk – though there’s no money for the development. “Maybe some day!” Pat never gives up.
Christine admits she shed tears writing this book. The fact that she’s still terrified when fireworks go off, that her daughter still jumps when there’s a bang even 40 years later and much, much worse. After mulling over her life, she began to write it down in longhand when she was on her own at night and Pat was out at council meeting representing people affected by Troubles, liaising with the police, the army and the IRA trying to bring understanding and peace. Eventually she became computer friendly and was able to save and paste!
There’s a different south Armagh today, a beautiful and developing area which brings contentment to this caring couple who see their 17 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren growing up in the hope of long-term peace.
