Judge Orla Crowe remanded Donaghey in custody pending sentence on Wednesday.
www.thejournal.ie
Although my first address was on the north side of the river Liffey in Chapelizod, we lived on the banks of the river and slept most nights to the sound of the nearby weir hissing and bubbling in the night. Then we moved over the river and up the hill to Ballyfermot. The only other time I ever lived on the northside of Dublin was around 1996/7 when I took a room in a large shared space with six other friends. I did it because I needed to store my stuff while out on a nine week Europe/Scandinavian tour. The house was at the top end of North Great George's Street, a lovely red brick Georgian building with four floors and a basement. I had the front basement room with a huge window and I set up a futon and sub-let it to a Spanish friend.
Back then there wasn't any persons of colour hanging around. I often walked home from wherever I was playing in the city and it was a handy address for the short while I lived there. Last time I passed through was in 2017 when home for a family wedding weekender out of town. I came from Dublin airport via Clontarf (to see a man about a bag) and I walked into the centre from there. Arriving along Parnell was a fucking fright alright. Geezers everywhere, hoods up, gloves on, baseball caps pulled down low, whispering, hustling, begging, gawking. You just knew that if you took your eye off the ball for even a second that you were mincemeat. I watched some local Irish girls on their way here and there and they all stared straight ahead, they were avoiding eye contact with any of the street corner imports. It was sad and scary. It didn't feel at all like home, and I'd only landed a couple of hours before.
Looking at it all now, it reminds me more of Amsterdam in the late 80s/early 90s. Heavy fuckers, the sort with a chib in the sock and a Stanley knife in the jacket pocket. I was living on the edge of the red light district in a legal squat along De Oudeschaans. I never did any business with street dealers, apart from one night around 2001 when we went out looking for supper after a show. Everywhere was shut. I didn't recognize the place. After midnight and nobody around. Apart from this one guy in a doorway looking at us.
'
Shawarma?' he says.
What?
'
Shawarma?'
Ehh, yeah - cool.
'Food? You want eat?'
Yes, actually - but nowhere's open.
You come with me.
So we follow the guy down the street and he pulls up a shutter and turns on the lights. A take-away bar with two tables for four and a bar/shelf along the wall. The food was warm, the smell was good, so we ordered and asked if we could stay and eat. He agreed, but we had to be quiet, and off he goes to lock the shutter. Nam nam, it was great, so I ordered another to go. He begged us not to eat nearby if we were leaving. I packed mine away for the hotel and off we went. He invited us back anytime and we'd have the friendly prices he reserved for friends. The law closed him down at 1100pm, it was killing his business so he did what he had to to keep going.
It occurred to me that night in Dublin that this was exactly what Dublin was headed for. A city divided not just by a river but also by a cultural mismatch that you could pretty much smell the blood of. The African and other cultures moving into Parnell Street and taking over all the addresses on the north side of the street facing Fibber McGee's with phone shops (that sold weed) those mad looking hairdressers with the fake dreads and ropes (also doing weed) nail salons (selling weed) laptop repairs (and weed) and small supermarkets specializing in imported foods I didn't want to know anything about. Along with weed.
So when the day eventually comes and weed is legalized, what will the outcome be for the African dealers on Parnell and the real big-time Irish dealers who own Dublin? If it's going to be coffeeshops, who among the Africans can afford the license and the lease? If it's going to be pharmacies (which I seriously doubt) then all hell's going to break loose regarding what else they stock their shelves with. Prescription medicines will still be abused even if there is weed available. And booze.
Dublin's primarily a drinking destination for most incoming tourists over for the long weekends. That said, coke and weed, ecstasy and crack are all easily available even if rather expensive. But that's Dublin for you: there aren't any cheap places left in Ireland in terms of making your money stretch. Weed you can get on any street corner. Not that I'd buy anything on the street. Fuck that, I like living.
The geezer here who set a cop car alight, then danced on the hood of another, then got involved with an arson attack on a Luas carriage, and then went on a looting spree has said his sorries to the state and the court saying that he got
caught up in the moment after hearing about the kids getting stabbed outside the creche door. In fairness, I can understand the moment and how it might have affected me had I been there. That geezer had a relative attending the creche. Again, ask yourself how YOU would have reacted? He's suffering from depression and anxiety. Two things that don't take a break from destroying your life for you. He's medicated and looking to check in to clean up. All in all he did tens of thousands of euros in damage. The Irish courts are tetchy about money and tend to throw the book at tax dodgers and other garlic-loving criminals. Geezer will find out by the end of the week what his future's going to be.
But no matter how shocking a vista the riots were, they're nothing on what's coming down the line for Dublin city centre over the next five to ten years. You think it's a ghetto/no-go area now? Give it a while. Give it a while more. It hasn't even reached bottom yet, so what ever plans you're making for your future, factor in a no-go capital city as a guaranteed issue.