Residents on Belfast's Ballysillan estate have been plagued by a recent upsurge in violence and intimidation involving loyalists, [opposed to closer ties with the Irish Republic]. The strain is felt acutely by young people, who give their account in this article by Children's Express.
| Everybody wants to get in as soon as it gets dark, because they shoot street lights out on the estate and people turn the lights off in their houses. |
Life can be tough for a young person growing up on a Belfast estate with a strong paramilitary presence.
"I'm allowed to leave my own area, but I'm not allowed to walk around my own area, because they're supposed to be shooting anybody at all," says Tom (15), who lives just a few streets from the original attack in Ballysillan.
"They don't care who they hit really.
"If there are any marches I'm not allowed out and it's really really hard because you can't go anywhere near it without having fear of someone putting a gun to your head."
Next Saturday (May 27) the UVF (Ulster Volunteer Force) is holding a parade which, it is feared, could spark further violence with the rival LVF (Loyalist Volunteer Force). Tom has been ordered by his parents to stay indoors. Until then, he is still wary of the estate.
The trouble, he says, always starts at sundown. Once the police withdraw their daytime patrols, the estate is plunged into darkness. Then there might be gunshots or crowds of men herding on to the streets from other areas. Sometimes the buzz of army helicopters overhead keeps Tom awake into the early hours.
The feuding and the fear of violence mean he has to adjust his daytime routine as well. He takes a different route back from school to avoid trouble spots and makes a point of being home earlier in the evening.
"Usually, I have to be home for about half ten, because it's a school night," Tom continues. "But because of all this trouble and all, everybody wants to get in earlier, as soon as it gets dark, because they shoot street lights out on the estate and people turn the lights off in their houses. You can't really see what's going on, so nobody wants to go near the area.
"Whenever there's a feud or a dispute, there's people walking about with handguns and stuff. It does scare you when you see a gun. You've seen it in films, but you've never seen it in real life, how frightening it could be."
Generally, he says, young people stay out of the feuds. But there is pressure to get involved with the paramilitaries.
At school there are arguments, sometimes fights, between boys with different loyalties who threaten each other with beatings, kneecappings and even murder.
Desks and tables are scored with partisan graffiti. Sometimes it takes a more sinister twist.
"I heard there were people walking about the streets with a form and they were getting kids to sign it," he says. "They pretend it's for something else, but actually it's saying you've signed up to UDA (Ulster Defence Association) or something.
"These kids aren't aware of what they're doing, and they're only 10 or 12."
Craig, 15, describes the pressure as "influence". Until recently he lived on the Shankill estate in Belfast and he remembers the loyalists handing out bright t-shirts with provocative slogans to the kids on the estate.
"The kids are like 'Aah, we get t-shirts if we join here, yes! We'd better go and join the UDA or something, it seems like a good organisation.
"Sometimes, paramilitaries give out drugs to the kids," he adds.
Then there is parental pressure. "Most of the parents belong to one of these organisations - because they were brought up like that before," Tom says.
The result is a kind of immunity to violence and its effects. For the kids on the paramilitary estates, it is just a way of life. They learn how to survive: teenage pranks that are normal elsewhere are out of bounds in places like Shankill - you could end up being visited by paramilitaries.
"It was like living anywhere else, except there was sort of like something in the air," Craig continues. "You know it's being run by paramilitaries. You could be playing football and you'd see a group of people coming up with tinted windows on their car and they'd go into a house and come out all very suspiciously."
He now lives in a quieter area of Belfast, but is not entirely happy. Despite its problems, he misses Shankill.
"Where I am now is still controlled - not by paramilitaries, but by neighbourhood watch. People walk their dog to make sure no-one's throwing stones. If you play football in the street down my way and the ball goes into someone's garden, they keep the ball and send the thing to a police station," he says.
"All my friends were in Shankill. Now there's hardly any people my age. There's no graffiti on the walls - I know that's bad, but I'm so used to it. If you drop litter in the street here, it's like: 'Pick that up!'
"There's a greater community link down there in Shankill. Up where I live now everyone keeps themselves to themselves. Everyone knows everyone down there."
About the team
This article was produced by the Children's Express Belfast bureau. All names have been changed. It was published in the Irish News.
