Parents and Children's Views

SADIE CLINGAIN

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Within a week or two of arriving in the Camp, the initial sense of dislocation and isolation slowly evaporated for, every time mammy and granny ventured outside our hut, we ran into people we already knew. First, there was, Ellen Friel from Fahan Street, with her husband Willie. They had a large family many of them first seen the light of day in Springtown. Willie’s brother Jamesie and his family were also among the early arrivals. In addition to both Friel families I remember Mike Powers, Danny Bradley, Tommy Moore and I am sure they were others always ready to give a helping hand to a widow woman.

That was only the beginning, as it seemed that Mammy and Granny knew people from god only knows where. It began to dawn on me  that the world we inhabited in Springtown had no new names or faces. There were only people, we had not yet met. Mammy and granny acknowledged  no boundaries , from Bluebell terrace, down to the Bogside , from Ardmore to Claudy via Rosemount. They were no strangers in Springtown Camp.

When one of their odysseys was particular fruitful and the Mullins, Sullivans, Kellys, Deerys, McConnells, McDermots, Lynches, Coyles, Havelins, Gallaghers, McCallions and McMenamins, had been taken out, lovingly caressed, and returned to their rightful place. After discussing our new surroundings granny looked at the clock on the dresser and announced its ten o’clock and time for bed. On such occasions, I became conscious of having arrived at some long dreamed of destination filled with optimism, and love.

I was a child when we arrived in Springtown but an adult when we left. And anything good or worthwhile , I have done in my life was as a result of that experience.

The first important lesson I learned from Springtown was never to confuse the physical environment of people with the people themselves. This was not an easy thing to do in a society that judged people by the size of the house they lived in or the clothes they wore, or other symbols of social status. Springtown Camp to be was not the old tin huts whose closing we commemorate but a community of people driven to the edge by circumstances over which they had no control. People who survived that experience with grace, humanity and frequently, heroism. We were referred to as squatters.

The second lesson I learned from Springtown was not to let others define you. Springtowners knew better and went about the business of defining themselves  I don’t think it is an accident that Springtown had its share of poets and storytellers.

I was twenty when I left Springtown Camp for the last time.

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 Sadie Clingain, Aunt Agnes Rabbitt, Rebecca Clingain [Mammy] ,Ruby Clingain and Ben at front

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MY FIRST  HOLIDAY

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I gazed at the sunlight coming through our hut window, after what can only be described as several hours of being in a state of calm inactivity. It certainly wasn't a sound nights sleep. My boyish excitement made that impossible. The reason for my sleepless night was today was the day of Springtown Camp's annual 'one day holiday.' Monday August 5, 1957 a date forever etched in my memory. 

It was the day of my first ever holiday. 

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For the previous few weeks every penny I got was made a prisoner, as I saved it. Soon my pennies turned in to shillings. I now had accrued a small fortune of ten shillings. All to spend as how I seen fit, with no parental interference.

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I got it in increments of one shilling, by going errands for neighbours, especially my main client, Bella O'Hagan. 

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I smile to myself when I recall doing a strange thing at mass the previous day...a smile of self contentment

If I am to be honest....Well it was not actually really strange, as people do it every Sunday, but it was for sure, strange for me to do it. As I was passing the 'poor box' on my way out of mass I stopped and put a silver sixpence in to the box. To this day I can't understand why I did that. But I do recall feeling sad and also a little guilty as some of my friends were not going on the bus run. I also had the feeling that I was a very rich young lad with ten shillings saved and all to spend on myself. It was but a mere fifty pence into days money, but back then in 1957 it was an absolute fortune to a young boy, yet to make his confirmation.

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It was 8.40am as we all made our way to the meeting point where we were to board the bus, the excitement was palpable. Life was wonderful that beautiful Sunday morning. The sun felt warmer, the grass looked greener and the Daisies looked bigger and brighter.It was every boys intention to get on to the bus as quickly as possible in order to secure a window seat. The bus arrived on time and the anticipated scramble to get on board early materialised  as expected. We all ran to the door at the same time as soon as the bus came to a halt. I managed to get a window seat and was pleased to note the sliding window actually worked.

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The bus soon was filled with people and was now on it's way down the rough roads of the camp, past the bridge and on to the smooth tarmac of the Buncrana road. The singing started with Stanley Clby belting out an Elvis number at the top of his voice. We were at last on our way to the 'long' journey to the seaside town of Rathmullan in County Donegal. To my utter delight my long awaited first holiday had begun.

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 Group photograph of some of the Springtowners on the bus run holiday

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After what was an enjoyable journey we arrived in Rathmullan. We were warned by our parents to be careful spending our money as some shopkeepers raised their prices on that holiday Monday. We were also made aware that pick- pockets would be out in force, hardly factual, still back then we were naive enough to take on board all such advice and warning seriously. For the first few minutes, taking no chances, I placed my hand around my money which was deep in my pocket. 

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The Beach was nice and our parents spread a tartan designed blanked on the sand, this was to be our location for the day. All the families done the same and all were near each other. After giving our money to our parents for safe keeping, we made a beeline for the water and waves and we swam until our hearts were content. We all had a ball in the water and we stood and watched in amazement as Phillip Killen a noted swimmer dived from some high elevated rocks in to the sea. We stayed for over an hour in the sea and then we all decide to come out, get dressed and have some tea and sandwiches with our parents. We ate heartily as the sea air gave us a ravenous appetite. 

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Now it was time to go up the town and pay a visit to the many colourful shops that were fully stocked with everything a child would ever want. I was always minded to buy a good mouth organ if one was available to buy in the shops, and one was. However it look like a very expensive one, I asked the sharp looking lady behind the counter, how much was that mouth organ. Mouth organ she asked looking at me with a puzzled expression. I pointed it out to her, Oh! I see, the harmonica, that will be two shillings and sixpence. It was indeed a bit expensive, but it was a real proper one, so I bought it and I had some great years fun with it until it vanished without trace. My friend's Danny bought a plastic guitar and Jim bought a ball. We strolled the street, lined with shops and each bought more small trinkets, and some bars of rocks for our friends back in the camp who were not with us.

Now with everything we wanted secured the smell of fish and chips took our breath away and we were never going to pass that shop without buying fish n chips soaked in vinegar. While we ate them we met Peter Divin and Mickey Bridge who were both laden down with stuff they bought. After several hours shopping and eating, It was now time to go down to where our parents were waiting, to board the bus for our homeward journey. The Journey back seemed quicker as we all discussed what we bought. On arriving back in the camp the light was starting to fade on what was a joyous day for us all. Children's exuberance was in full flow as we discussed where we would be going on our one day annual holiday the following year, would it be Buncrana, Moville. We really didn't care, as we were certain we would enjoy it no matter where we were going. Tomorrow it was time to enjoy the things we bought that day, and we were not forgetting we had four full weeks of our summer holidays left, before we faced going back to Pennyburn school.

Old folk often say  "What you once enjoyed as a child, time never can erase from your memory."

Being one of the  'Old folk' now myself, I can for sure concur with that sentiment.

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