Occupy Stories

A small candle lights up the damp inside of the blue tent. Both cabins are open and four people sitting on air mattresses are facing each other. The wind is pushing tiny raindrops against the side of the zipped up entrance. The little fire candle and the perpetual breathing heats up the cold air from outside. It is midnight and passersby are shouting joyfully in the square while heading to the next pub.

Galway Occupy Camp, Photo: Donn Morrison

The four exchange smiles when they are talking about camp life. The bearded Chris is holding his blue guitar and pulling one string after another. The conversation is concentrated on the plans for tomorrow and the upcoming march against the household charge.

Over four months have passed since the first tents were set up on the stony ground in Eyre Square, Galway. Although some people have left and others have joined, the core group of 20 who started the protest is still around.

"The novelty is gone. Everyone has gotten used to it now,” comments Chris Duignan who was one the first to support the local protest. After his first year in archaeology the 26 year old had to drop out of collage because he couldn’t afford to pay the fees and didn’t get a grant from the government. 

“You can see so many things are wrong and nobody is going to fix them,” says Chris about his reason for joining the Occupy movement.  “If it’s not going to work out at least you have tried,” he adds. Nevertheless, there are times he finds it hard to keep going.

“It’s hard to sleep because of the noise and the traffic,” he says; “You get worn out after a few days. Then you go home and relax for a while and remember why you came down in the first place.” Chris remembers Rag week as the hardest nights they have had on Eyre Square. “Wednesday night. It was just crazy. I was just looking at what is the point, what am I doing to me, why I’m getting abused and shouted at?,” are some of the thoughts Chris recalls going through his mind on the night hundreds of students raged drunkenly through the streets.

Chris Duignan, Photo: Tanja Goldbecher

"If you were living here and all you can see is night time you would think every single person in Galway is in an alcoholic,” says Chris. One person jumped over the fence and fell on one of the tents where a girl was sleeping. “People shout at us every single night,” he utters with a tired glare in his eyes and adds that often bottles are thrown at the camp. Chris talks about Halloween when a traffic sign was thrown on his tent but he makes clear that there never have been any problems during the day.

Chris is the informal event manager of Occupy Galway. An open mic, where everyone can express his or her opinion in public, is set up for a few days to discuss changes that could be made to constitution. In the past, the camp has organised various charity events and has given money to the St Vincent de Paul Society, COPE Ireland, the Samaritans and the Simon Communities. The next charity event is planned for March 2^nd in Áras na nGael but everyday smaller activities like invited guest speakers or gardening are written on the white board at the entrance of the main tent.

A woman in her 40s stops at the entrance of the fence. “How is the protest going?” she asks the activist who just came out of his tent. “I would protest here myself if I could, but I have to work” says the woman.

The main tent is big enough to stand up in. A chain of lights hangs across the marquise and a tiny bit of orange light from the street lamps falls into the open entry. The dark carpet and leather couch next to a low table simulate a cosy living room atmosphere. The sides of the tent are reinforced with timber from pallets. The roof is stable and a green plastic cover tied to it keeps the wetness out. In one corner the kitchen area is set up. Cups, plates and cooking pots are placed on the kitchen board next to the gas cooker and kettle.

Camp Poster, Photo: imgfave.com

"All of the things are donated and Stephen the carpenter puts them together," says Chris. He leads the way through the back door into the sleeping area where each tent is fixed on separate pallets. He points at the solar panel that is delivering parts of the camp's energy supply. A small office has been created in the back and another shed for the kitchen still requires more timber to complete its construction. A grey metal sink is already leaning against the side.

Chris believes the City Council is against the Occupy Camp. “They want to take legal action against the camp,” he says. So far, the camp is going to stay where it is. "Eventually, there won't be the need for the camp to be here because people will just come and talk,” comments Chris; "The camp is here to be used by anyone. We are not here to tell people what to think; they should come and tell us their opinion.”
At three o’clock in the morning, when the last pub is closed and the crowds make their way home, the area around the square quietens down. The camp will be asleep until the street cleaning starts at half five. A few people are going to stay up all night. The temperatures are not low, but the dampness creeps into the body anyway. A hot shower is not available for warm feet in the sleeping bag. This is a typical night at Occupy Galway.