I am water. I need to flow. I don’t have the leisure of
thought; I don’t have the capacity of it. I am a part of the picture. I flow to
the edge of a cliff and I fall, I swerve and dance besides mountains and
fields, I am guided by the rocks and pebbles. I entertain sundry for a dip into
my wetness. Sometimes I am placid and calm
to the guy with the hat and boots and jacket as he patiently holds the line for
a catch. I merge into the sea or the ocean and though I may look sedate on the
surface, I have an inner turmoil. I save but then I destroy too! I have a
journey, a long one but it is never defined by me. I am water. I need to flow.
And I am Henry Smart, named after my father Henry Smart,
the original one, the one legged one, the bouncer standing at the doors of the
whorehouse where every girl’s name is Maria. My father, a mere pawn, his ferociousness is not
as celebrated as the ‘tap tap’ of his
wooden leg. Melody, my mother looks out for her dead born children in the stars,
in the sky. “That’s your brother Henry”, she points out above, my beautiful
mama. I am the first born, the celebrated one, the first who managed to stay
alive and suckle at her breasts. Born in the slums of Dublin, in its muck and
dark alleys, I survive on its streets. I flow. My brother Victor is my ally,
but not for long. Soon, on the streets I lose him like most others have, to the
wild coughing that has infected Dublin. Alone, I am ruthless on the streets,
lesser a kid, more a fighter, I am a thief, I am an urchin, I need to survive,
I survive!
At 14, I am over 6 feet tall and a man, I am a part of
the republicans fighting for freedom and I kill at will. I am the most handsome
of the lot and most of the girls fall for my eyes. I am ready to give up my
life for Ireland. At the GPO, where we are garrisoned, my friends die one by
one and Paddy’s brains are spread on my shirt sleeves as we run for our lives.
I am the only one who escapes and is not jailed. My father, Henry, the original
one with the wooden leg had shown Victor and me the hidden route to the river, wading
through the slime of Dublin. I carry my father’s wooden leg with me.
I escape the war only for a while and stay with Piano
Annie, yes, that’s what she’s called and fuck her everyday and work at the
docks. Her husband is probably dead, in some other country having fought
another war. But Ireland needs me and I am found, not by the enemies, but by my
brotherhood and I join them again. I flow. Thinking is a leisure I can’t
indulge in. I am a mercenary, an assassin; they give me pieces of paper with
names written on them and I carry out the executions, just like my father used
to; “Alfie Gandon says hello”, the message delivered for every man he killed. They
tell me we are almost there, on the road to freedom and we will have Ireland to
ourselves. I believe them. I am a trainer, I train new recruits to fight the
war, to stay ambushed, to shoot, to burn, to bomb; I pass on the doctrines of
the struggle for freedom.
I meet Miss O’Shea and she
is 10 years older to me, but she had been my teacher once for a day, a teacher for
me and Victor and she had taught me to write my name; ‘I am Henry Smart’. I
don’t want to fight anymore; I have decided my war is over. But I am water, I
have to flow, I am not allowed to think. Miss O’Shea gives birth to my
lovely daughter between her bombings and gunnings and her escapades.
Ivan, the bright one, one of the recruits I have trained
has grown into a house of power. I see him after a long time. He is on a
mission. He says I need to be killed; he has orders from the same brotherhood
of republicans I fought for. He respects me, but I have been a twit, he says.
He says there is no freedom struggle, it’s all about power, it is business. Like
Ivan, the Generals, my bosses have been creating history but now I don’t figure
in it. I never had, says Ivan. The Captains and Generals now hold important
posts in the government, and business and transactions are being carried out by
who we thought were our enemies. Ivan is richer now; a county is under his control.
I meet Jack Dalton after a long time, my friend, the one
who induced courage and made me meet new people, powerful ones. When I met him
first, he sang songs written about me; I was a hero, he had said. The slips of
paper had come from him. And now he hands me a slip of paper.
“Can you do it by yourself”, he asks.
I look at the paper. ‘Henry Smart’.
“I can’t”, I say and walk away.
Jack tells me “If you’re not with us, you’re against us. You have no stake in
the country, man. Never had, never will. We needed trouble makers and very soon
now we’ll have to be rid of them. And that, Henry, is all you are and ever
were. A trouble-maker.”
I am Henry Smart, son of Melody and Henry Smart and I was
willing to die for Ireland.
My Rating : * * * * * * * * * * - 7/10
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| Roddy Doyle |
