RSH. Bring a Pac-a-Mac.
By Randall Stephen Hall.
With an original song from 2010
CUT MY HAIR
When I was young and growing up
In North Belfast 1957 – 2025, in a lower middle class family, I was taken to the 12th
Celebrations yearly.
I even marched once, with my uncle Richard for about 100 yards until my mum liberated me from “the Field”, our destination.
I think what soaked into me then was the music, the drums, the timings and the imagery. I understand now, how aspects of the music were seductive to the younger listener.
Then, when I was 14, I went with my mum to my last twelfth. I witnessed a man and his son trying to cross in front of an orange lodge where he was punched and attacked, carrying two polks of ice cream left on the ground as the band’s progress was temporarily halted as the man and his son melted back into the crowd.
But he had achieved his goal, to get to the other side and the higher ground. Soundly beaten down for being too ignorant of these bizarre customs and traditions.
After that, I never went back. I cut the link with something I never believed in. An organisation espousung Faith, Hope and Charity, beating the innocent.
For me, I just wasn’t raised that way nor was I conditioned to be so violent or to be so lacking in compassion. But, as far as I can see that’s more about class divisions as much as it is about denominational differences.
Years later I wrote this song CUT MY HAIR. I wrote this song but I changed the identity from a lodge to a Hairdresser’s Union. This was because in Native American tradition when you are grieving a death, you cut your hair.
I could suddenly see these comparisons between invaded natives with industrially processed communities here, dipped in either Hibernian Nationalism, or Unionist
Orangisms. Both a local distortion of what, in England was a folk tradition.
I witnessed this non violent expression, working as a summer bus conductor for 5 summer seasons in Torquay, Devon, while studying art in Belfast. So, circa 1979, I saw in England at the Tolpuddle Martyrs March how all the banners looked the same, (as Orange or Hibernian banners), with Morris dancing, beer and anti-Margaret Thatcher speeches made by the then leader of the TUC Len Murray, at the top table , like a wedding.
With hindsight then and now, I can see what a violent society I was raised in, in comparison with the relative gentleness of Devon where all the twenty or so other northern Irish students from Queens and the Poly, were shown respect and deep friendships, lasting to this day.
Stephen Stiofan
Peace, Love and More Cat Food
The Eleventh Night
AKA. Dangerous Banana
A northern Irish artust
No Poke here. Sorry…….