Divided City: Chapter 15 ‘Come away in. Come away in.’ Graham’s granda was always pleased to see him. And Graham always felt safe and happy in his Granda Reid’s home. He’d visited his grandparents house in Bridgebar mostly every Saturday for as long as he could remember. And when his granny had died he’d kept coming each weekend as he got older. During the footballs season, Saturday wouldn’t be Saturday without him and his granda being together. Graham hung up his jacket and followed his granda through to the living room. ‘See what I’ve laid out for you.’ From tissue paper lying on the sideboard his granda held up an orange sash edged in purple and fringed with silver. It was a very old sash of the Orange Order. Worn by his granda and his father before him. The old man began to sing softly. ‘It is old but it is beautiful and does its colours they are fine, It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne. My father wore it as a youth in bygone days of yore, And on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore’ It’s the local Walk next week, Graham.’ ‘Yes,’ said Graham. ‘It’s on Saturday morning. We can take part together because the Rangers game is not till the Sunday afternoon.’ ‘I know, Granda.’ ‘Big day for he Lodge. Makes us old yins proud to see the young yins marching. Gives us hope for the future.’ ‘You told me that, Granda.’ ‘Even more important nowadays as we’re under threat of restrictions.’ Graham nodded. From under thick white eyebrows Graham’s granda looked at him with eyes that shone with love. Graham smiled back at his granda. He knew that his granda would do anything for him. And Graham didn’t want to let his granda down. The old man would be so disappointed if Graham said he wasn’t prepared to wear the sash and march this year. It didn’t seem so much to agree to: to take part in the Walk next week. But … he still hadn’t said yes. He parents hadn’t allowed Graham to enrol in the Juniors, even though his Granda Reid was never done telling Graham’s dad that it was a family tradition. His mum and dad had discussed it with Graham. Although his mum had sometimes taken part in the Walks when she was young, both his parents felt that he should wait until he got older. Then he could make up his own mind if he wanted to join in. This was the year Graham would decide. ‘I’m no forcing you, mind. It’s your decision.’ That’s what Graham’s dad had said. ‘It’s your decision, Graham. You mustn’t always do things to please other people, even if you love them. The big decisions in life have to be made for yourself, by yourself. Take you time. Think it over. ‘ Graham know that some people didn’t like the Orange Walks. Usually his mum and dad took him away on holiday at the beginning of July. But he’d seen his granda walk a few times and he could see why people objected to it. Hangers-on turned up and shouted things, mainly anti-Celtic stuff. And despite the Walk having marshals, the swearing and taunting calls persisted. ‘Ignoramuses’, his granda called them. ‘No idea of the proper historical origins of this important tradition. We don’t need eedjits to make our point for us. We walk the highway proudly as we’re entitled. Graham’s granda laid the sash carefully in these box on the sideboard and closed the lid. ‘You’ll come to it in your own time,’ he said confidently. Graham smiled but didn’t look directly at his granda. ‘We’ll assemble at the Lodge next Saturday morning and walk like through the city to Bridgebar Park,’ his granda said, as he went through to his tiny kitchen and put some sliced sausage and black pudding under the grill. He was making plans for next weekend. ‘All my pals will come to see you. Ach, there’s nothing like the sound of a flute band. And when you watch them coming up the middle of the road, the noise and the colour, and the banners with their gold tassels and ribbons streaming – it’s magnificent! All the wee juniors done up in their best, with their wee sashes on. Lovely. The lassies look grand and he boys so smart, all of them loyal and true.’ Granda Reid began to hum, We’ll guard old Derry’s Walls, as he made the lunch. Graham helped him put out some plates and began to butter the bread. For the big Walk in Glasgow at the beginning of July his granda’s relatives and friends came over from Ulster. ‘The gathering of them clans’, his granda called it. For the twelfth of July his granda was one of the around fifteen thousand Scots who went over to Northern Ireland to show solidarity with their brothers and sisters across the water. It was all because from way back to Irish wouldn’t stop rebellion against the Crown. Scottish soldiers were sent over to help put down the rebellions. They’d served with the Orange Yeomanry and brought back the Orange Lodge idea when they returned to Scotland. That’s how it all started. Over the years lots of Ulster Protestants had migrated to Scotland, so now the Orangemen were the oldest and biggest Protestant Fraternity in Scotland. ‘True loyal origins, the Orange Order,’ Granda Reid would say. ‘A sash is the badge of the honest man. That’s what I am. An honest Protestant man, and I’m not afraid to show it. We have to guard against False Doctrine. We march humbly but with dignity. It’s a declaration of loyalty and Protestantism. Those who truly hold with the Bible will recognise the legitimacy of our ways. We testify for the truth. And that’s what it’s all about. The truth. ‘And we’ve the truth of our history to protect as well. We had hard times to defend ourselves in Ulster and here in Scotland. They don’t tell you that, do they? Naw. It’s their stories you hear. Their Famine. Nobody mentions the atrocities we suffered, how he Catholics murdered men, women and children in Portadown on the banks of the Bann. And today, we’ve still to defend ourselves. They’re trying to crush our spirit, but we will not be crushed. We will parade. But there’s no offence intended to anyone, you know.’ Yet Graham’s dad and his mum, who was Granda Reid’s daughter, wouldn’t let Graham take part in the Walks when he was growing up. They’d insisted that he wait until this year and make his own decision. This year. Now. By next week Graham had to decide whether he would walk or not. Graham smothered his sliced sausage with brown sauce and sat down to eat. The table was at the living room window and today, because it was the Rangers-Celtic derby, his granda had put up bright blue curtains and hung out his Ulster and Union flags and bunting, as had most of his neighbours. ‘You’ve got to keep your end up,’ his granda said as he saw Graham looking at the flag. Their places will be covered in green.’ Graham wasn’t going to tell his granda that he knew this was true, that he had seen it this morning with his own eyes. The Garngath. Covered in green and white with the Irish flag prominent. You would have thought it was another country, not another part of the same city. Questioning 1) How often does Graham visit his Granda Reid? 2) How does Granda Reid feel about the sash he shows Graham? What clues helped you get your answer? 3) Why might Graham not want to join in on the Walk? 4) Find a word that is Scot’s dialect and another one for accent. (Remember, dialect is words from a place, accent is the way someone speaks). 5) Summarise the history of the Orange Order from the chapter. 6) What do you think Granda Reid means when he says, ‘you’ve got to keep your end up.’ 7) What do some people in Glasgow do to show what team they support? Creating questions Create 3 questions you’d ask Granda Reid about his life. .