Conversations we otherwise wouldn’t dare begin

              We were gathered in a circle in the main hall of St. Columb’s House today. John Harkin shared his introduction to Hands for a Bridge and we shared how the program has been meaningful to us.

              John has already explained why he doesn’t plan ahead, because plans go afoul whereas, if you go with the flow, things tend to work out.

              In 2006, in October, John received an email from Doug, a mental health worker at Roosevelt. He read it poorly but saw Seattle, students, February visit, and wrote back Yes, of course. Had he actually read the message and seen that Roosevelt was asking to visit for over a week and needed places to stay, John would surely have said, Sorry, there’s no way. In the next few months, Doug would call the school, but John would never make himself available. By January, Doug was more insistent: There’s a man from Seattle on the line for you, and he says he won’t hang up until you’ve actually spoken. When John spoke with Doug and realized what he’d actually agreed to those many months ago, he simply said, Yes, yes; it’s all arranged; I just need to work out the fine details. Then he rushed students into the library and said, Americans are coming in only two weeks and need sixteen homes for multiple days and I need volunteers and family permissions by tomorrow. Sixteen hands came up. And the next day, the sixteen permission forms.

              When things are meant to be, they will be.

              Since then, Roosevelt has come back every year, save the last three. And John has brought students from Northern Ireland three separate years—2007, 2009, and 2012. And in both schools, John said, things are done differently because of leadership and legacy of Hands for a Bridge experiences, similar to the trees we planted the other day in Ness Woods. Small changes are meaningful.

              For our part, many spoke about closeness and trust among an unlikely variety of students; they spoke about stretching their comfort zones and their confidence pushing out of them due to the program. Chloe spoke about the expansion of empathy she gained over the classroom readings by actually meeting people in the conflict zones we studied. It’s a wisdom she knows will extrapolate. And I spoke about what it’s meant as a teacher to plan readings and experiences for a class in collaboration with decades of experience and rituals and mission among people across three continents for whom they’re deeply meaningful.

              Halle asked John what value comes from Americans being included in these tense conversations that might have more meaningful dialogue partners locally. John told her that our presence provides an occasion to speak about subjects that wouldn’t come about otherwise. Students here who wouldn’t set foot in the Free Derry Museum do so because they’re going with us. And at Roosevelt, a visitor from Northern Ireland asked, Why is everyone here at Roosevelt so racist, pointing to the completely segregated lunchroom when an American objected: it provoked useful meditation and investigation that wouldn’t have occurred without the outsider. Halle further reflected that, for Americans included in conversations here—because we don’t have a stake in conversations—questions can safely be received from us. We come from a place of curiosity without an agenda, and this allows people to answer honestly.

              The program facilitates conversations people otherwise wouldn’t dare begin.

Below: John and Roosevelt students at the end of the day.