Saturday, 14 March 2015

A blood dawn at Lugh

I visited Lugh once when I had just started schooling. The people were warm and welcoming and I have fond recollection of a family holiday. Like all childhood memories there are rose tinted moments that have been forgotten... now remembered... and put into light in a way that only a grown mind can comprehend.

A thin red line that was never going to be crossed.

A strange symbol painted on a wall: attractive to a curious young mind but coloured a bright angry red. Father picking up the pace and ushering the family on quickly. Angry voices stirring behind us. Our mother drawing us closer and a question dying on my lips: barely started and quickly shushed.

My memory has no understanding of the loud voices spoken by strangers and in another tongue. My grown up eyes see anger directed at unnamed tourists in the wrong place. We were not local. Not so friendly.

The innocence has gone now and the fierce local pride has spilled over. The desire to have self determination has grown and bloody war has finally dawned in Lugh.

For me there is no great love for the Federation, and childhood memories blunt the call for freedom in Lugh. So I can't quite bring myself to believe either side. That memory 40 years gone has now dulled any passion for the cause.

Perhaps I have become more mercenary in the way that I view the world, especially when fighting battles on behalf of others.

That wasn't expected.

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