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Music
The Orange Walk
By tazza (tazza macleod)
uploaded 11/07/2005
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The glorious 12th of July. This happy, summer holiday, Saturday event was a great spectacle for me to behold.
I remember as a wee girl walking with my Mum and family to Sauchiehall Street. Standing in line with lots of people to watch the fantastic bands, flags, colourful banners, uniforms and marchers. The day was alive with music and songs, plus laughter. People young and old, men and women, girls and boys, were happy dancing, singing, clapping and the adults, probably drunk. Innocent fun I thought. I never felt afraid or at risk at any time. Even when our Mum said "Don't say you are a Catholic." That seemed reasonable to me and I did what I was told. I was totally unaware until much later on in life that there also was hatred and killings associated with this event. Plus a big, bad, unhappy historical past.
We would watch the march along the Street then follow the bands to George Square, I think. I can only remember a happy day. It was not until I was at Catholic indoctrination school that I was informed about the religious battles in Ireland, the protestants and King Billy. Plus the struggle of the Catholics in Scotland for employment and education.
I must say I never took it seriously and always thought of the marvellous sight of the lead person of the many bands throwing the banner high into the sunny sky. This must have been an olympic, skillful and dangerous feat. He was always my hero.
It was also fantastic that the Marshalls conducting the march in their distinctive, posh hats and sashes would not allow anyone to cross infront of the bands. This was extreme power. I admired that control and order of the crowds.
It was not until 1966 when I was on holiday in Northern Ireland at the beginning of the troubles that all of this religious stuff was very real and very serious to many people. I felt as a young woman very afraid in that country at that time. My motto is live and let live.
This day has another meaning to me it was when our first born was born and died aged 26 weeks of age, unfortunately not viable to live at that time. In Paisley Maternity Hospital. She lived for 20 minutes and was not meant to be, but what a day to be born.
I have been back to see the Walk in Glasgow plus the gathering in Blantyre. However, I still retain that feeling of love for only the music. I am very happy to report that this holiday is not celebrated in Perth, Western Australia. May I wish happy safe holidays to everyone.
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