When a bus driver bringing a group of teenagers back to the Drumcree Community Centre told a worker David Trimble had just died, she didn’t turn the radio on.
“The news flashed up on his phone but we carried on the journey and didn’t even speak about it,” says Nuala.
She is among four women who have worked for decades at the centre close to the nationalist Garvaghy Road in Portadown, which became a hub for “barricaded in” residents during the controversial Orange Order parade protests in 1995.
Surrounded by plants, the white-washed building is used by hundreds of people each week and staff insist that life in the predominantly unionist town has “moved on” since images of the violent stand-off were beamed around the world.
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“Thankfully our children don’t know what it is to be afraid of the Twelfth,” adds Nuala.
The women do not want to give their surnames but speak candidly about their memories of the former first minister who was jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his work on the Belfast Agreement negotiations.
Much of the news coverage on his legacy — from “hardliner to peacemaker” — has featured a photograph of him holding hands with former DUP leader Ian Paisley in a “victory jig” as they led a parade down the Garvaghy Road for the first time.
“Seeing that picture again brings it back to you, it brings back the trauma of it,” Jennifer says.
“Because once David Trimble paraded down that road, it changed everything. We would have done a lot of cross-community work with unionist politicians over the years. But that really struck home.”
Now in her 60s, she recalls her attempt to meet Trimble during the stand-off when she wanted to liaise with a group of Protestant pensioners living nearby.
“We heard that David Trimble was coming into the area and he was going to visit people down in King Street. Myself and another woman asked to speak with him, there was no agenda. We had wanted to help people in that area as they were in a nationalist enclave and police had brought the barriers down. We wanted to say that we had no ill-will against these older people and assure them they could come to the community centre if they were getting any flak,” she says.
“Unfortunately he brushed past us and he didn’t want to speak to us. I suppose he couldn’t be seen to be speaking to us because we were easily identifiable as nationalists. But I thought, ‘we tried’. I’m sad he’s dead. I think he did contribute a lot to the peace process and history will prove that.”
Co-worker Nuala is ushering children into the centre for an afternoon summer scheme as part of its work, which began life in a Jesuit house across the street more than 30 years ago.
At the height of the Orange Order dispute — the last parade along the road was in 1997 but a weekly petition is still handed in — more than 2,000 army troops and police were deployed in the nationalist area that had a population of about 4,500.
“When pensioners opened their doors in houses close to our centre, there were RUC Saracens barricading them in. There was only one grocery shop and no ATM. We had no chemist. Food convoys were sent in from as far as Derry. We were locked in,” Nuala recalls.
Comes flooding back
Asked by The Irish Times how she feels about Trimble’s passing and his contribution to the peace process, she is initially reluctant to respond.
“You think you’ve moved but when I watched the news coverage last night my heart sunk the minute I saw the picture of him holding Paisley’s hand. It all comes flooding back to you,” she replies.
“I appreciate Trimble took risks for the unionist community, but living here we felt alienated by his actions. You can’t undo that. He was so vocally disrespectful towards the wishes of this community and he tarred us all with the same brush. He made assumptions and yet he wouldn’t speak to us.”
Garvaghy Road resident Stephen Brownley (46) has lived in the same house for more than 30 years and now cares for his elderly father suffering from dementia.
He is unaware Trimble has died.
On hearing the news, he says it’s sad for his family but that it “doesn’t affect” him.
“I think back to the protests and Trimble didn’t help matters. This road was a war zone. People were coming round the back of our house and throwing petrol bombs. One hit our window. It was strange for me to see him change. But at the end of the day, it’s better now than what it was. I have a five-year-old daughter — so for her growing up and not seeing what I had to see is only a good thing. I suppose he’s part of that.”
