There’s risk in making, or responding to, contact with distant relatives. Whilst it’s unlikely they are actual murderers, differences in character and expectations can be fraught.
Thus it was with some trepidation that I reached out to folk in Ireland who share the same ancestors and, amazingly, are on the original farm.
From their perspective, Imagine getting an email from a stranger who lives on the other side of the world, requesting a visit to your home. Did they worry I was a scammer?
I arrived into Newtownards a couple of hours early, and what a town it is!
The mall doesn’t seem to have ripped the heart out of the town centre, which was energetically alive. Along with the lovely mix of food and supplies outlets, there’s several functioning churches, a vibrant square, and even a Turkish barber. I wanted to ask what sets a Turkish barbers haircuts apart (style, method, ritual?) but they looked way too busy.
Inside the civic building on the Square, art to freely view. And glory be! An Ikibana exhibition. So unexpected, and absolutely beautiful in it’s intricate simplicity.
At the mall, a well-dressed 30-something man strolled out of a clothing store, supposedly talking on his phone, but with two packaged shirts under his arm. Security alarms went off, but he kept on walking. Shop staff moved swiftly; one on point and a second keeping about three metres off, unobtrusive but ready. The staff member who got in front of the shoplifter would have been ten years younger than his quarry, but he showed no fear. A pleasant but firm interaction followed, the shirts handed over, and everyone carried on their way.
Standing outside the butcher’s shop, I waited for my driving host with a touch of trepidation. Knowing these relatives had given up the best part of their day for a complete stranger, including offering to take me to places I particularly wanted to visit, made for a sense of responsibility. Would we get on? Please don’t let me inadvertently cause offense.
What a day! From exploring the family mausoleum and burial sites…..
…. to a delicious lunch spread (which had clearly taken much time and care), the family were hospitality personified. Stories were shared, photos passed around, and laughter mixed with curiosity about each other’s lives. Naturally there were variances to our common threads. Farming-wise, their potential TB carriers are badgers, whilst ours are possums, and thus our responses to this threat differ, but the desired outcome is the same… to be TB free.
Outside, gazing across the farm, that tingle from standing where ancestors stood, seeing aspects of the view they saw.
How many ancestors worked this land, agonized over paying the bills, played, socialized and grew up here? And then there’s the discussions and pain those ancestors would had, mixed with excitement about emigrating to New Zealand. So much happened on this site generations ago which have profoundly affected my life. My very existence depended on those actions and decisions. Do deceased folk hear our gratefulness? How would they feel to see descendants connecting?
The experiences, and family I met, are lodged in the warmest section of my memory bank. Spending a day with distant relatives; what an absolute privilege!
Stories for you - Enjoy! 