Extract from Rossport Five book

Extract from Rossport Five book: In June 2005 the Rossport 5 were jailed for refusing to obey a court order instructing them not to interfere with the Corrib gas pipeline. Below is an extract from their book, published last week, in which Vincent McGrath, one of the five, recalls the 94 days he spent in Cloverhill jail

‘There was a big cheer when we left the Court to go across to the Bridewell. Obviously this was our first time in the Bridewell and we didn't know that it was a holding cell. There were concrete slabs or ‘beds' there, about six inches high. There were three of those ‘beds' but no bedclothes of any kind. There was an open toilet in the corner with a three-foot wall around it.

There was no place to sit so we sat down on the ‘beds' on and off for the five hours or so we were there. I think we nodded off from time to time. We didn't know then if this was going to be our prison and if we'd have to endure these conditions for God knows how long. How were we going to cope?

Eventually they gave us a bread roll sandwich and a cup of tea. Then they took us in this prison van or Garda van – the ‘sheep box' I think they called it. We knew we were going to Mountjoy. We were actually caged in a steel box – individually of course. It was in total darkness. We couldn't see anything but we called to each other. You just had to look into space. I had nothing with me other than what I was wearing.

We were weighed and we had our photographs taken and we saw the prison doctor. There were two cells available when we went into Cloverhill – two three-man cells. I heard only recently that five sex offenders were released to accommodate us. I don't know how true that is. It was decided that myself and Micheál [Ó Seighin, another of the Rossport 5] should share a cell and that the other three men would go in together in the other cell. I think the other three others decided that it would be better that Micheál and I bored just each other!
The cell was about thirteen feet long by nine feet wide. There were bunk beds on one side and the same layout on the opposite side but instead of a bed underneath there was a table and a shelf. This is where we ate our meals. The beds were about two and a half feet wide so this meant that there was about four feet of space between the beds. I'd say the beds were about six feet long. There was about seven feet of space between the beds and the door. There was a toilet and hand basin beside the door but this was an open toilet with just a wall about three feet high on one side between you and the other prisoners – only Micheál in my case. That's the part I think anyone would have found most difficult in terms of privacy. It was very difficult and you never think of things like that when you think of jail. Even if you were in jail with people that you normally live with, say Maureen and myself, it would still be difficult not having your privacy. It could happen that somebody might well be on the toilet when the officers opened the door to check. But no one passes any remark after a while. You make the best of what you have.

Everything seemed to be made of plastic – knives, forks, spoons, cups, saucers and plates. Safety seemed to be the priority at all times. You might ask what is the function of the prison officer? Is it to keep the criminals in there and make sure they don't get out and harm the rest of us? When you're in there you realise it's to protect them from each other and from themselves. You want to feel safe in there.

I wasn't shaken or angry or frightened. You had to be level headed and keep your cool. This could have gone on for a long haul. There were so many imponderables there. We didn't know what might happen. So much was out of our control at this stage. All that was within our control was to stay in jail for as long as it took. That was all we could do. I didn't fix on a time in my head for getting out. I was looking on it long-term. I was taking it as it came...

Jerry Cowley (Mayo Independent TD) was marvellous, extraordinary. He came in to see us time and time again. We didn't have the detail of what was happening outside but we would try and piece it together. We had scraps of information. We had a few strands. First, we had Cowley's visits. We knew there were meetings twice a week locally and he reported back on these. Then there were visits from our families. We also had the daily telephone calls. The calls lasted for six minutes and were monitored but they helped us to piece together what was happening. Micheál would find out something. I would hear something else and we'd all have a chance to talk about it in the yard.

There were visits from our local supporters as well. That was important because they were picketing the Refinery site at Ballinaboy and Shell wasn't being allowed to do any work. We asked one local man who was picketing the gate if they would stick it out. He said, “We will stick it out on the outside if ye'll stick it out on the inside.” That was almost a contract! There was an agreement there which was good. They'll do it if we do it.

That was very positive. TDs started to come in then. The first thing we got from a lot of the TDs was a question, “How do we get you out of here?” What they had in mind was some face-saving formula that would make us look good when we climbed down and purged our contempt.

The Taoiseach said something similar in answer to a question from a reporter. He said something to the effect that we could come out now – “They've made their point.” It's a pity he wasn't asked what point did he think we were trying to make. I wonder does he still know? They didn't realise what was going on. We explained that this wasn't about getting out because that was in our own hands. We had to educate them. We had to educate them about the issues and that we knew what we were talking about. We weren't just a few hotheads letting off a bit of steam by going in to prison. We were there to win. We had to win. It was very important to stress this – to win the campaign is essential for our survival as a community.

Newspapers too were important to us. It became clear early on that our issue was very popular. I think we became a cause celebre. The tabloids surprised us with the coverage and the Rossport 5 title seemed to catch on. We thought it would fade away. That was our big fear, particularly because the Dáil was on holidays. Indeed, I'm sure our imprisonment was deliberately timed to coincide with that. I suppose their reasoning was that people like us liked the open air and that we wouldn't stick it out during a long hot summer and that we'd crack. I just wonder when they began to realise that we weren't going to. They must have realised that sometime. It was only when the Dáil was about to come back that they began to move. They knew it was going to be brought up every day in the Dáil.

The rallies were important for us and so was the level of reporting. They kept the story in the top ten news items all summer even through Hurricane Katrina and the bombings in London. In time we started to get letters and cards. We got our post in the evening around 7pm when we came in from the yard. In the letters people were saying the same things like “stick it out,” “don't give in,” “you're doing it for us,” “it's time somebody stood up” – all those themes I had been talking about earlier on and, of course, lots of talk about corruption.

It was quite clear from all around the country that we had a very high level of support. It was very interesting how the Irish language had become important to a lot of people. The people of the Gaeltacht were very angry at the jailing. But many people from outside the Gaeltachtaí too would try and write to us in Irish and others would apologise that they weren't able to write to us in Irish. Maybe they saw this from a nationalistic point of view and that this was old Ireland standing on her feet. Maybe for them the fact that we came from the Gaeltacht gave the struggle and the jailing an extra meaning. I don't know.

I knew that we couldn't give up. It was an imperative that we kept going. If we gave up what chance had other communities again? They would never raise their heads again about any issue if we ended up purging our contempt. It wouldn't have mattered how long we stayed in jail. That was an inspiration, not pressure. We knew that what we were doing was right, that our cause was a just one. It was a national question now. I felt from the letters that we were asserting people's rights and dignity.

It took time to get used to the prison routine. We were not frightened at all of the other prisoners. We got support from the prisoners straight away. They threatened to stage a sit-down protest but we let it be known that we didn't want any disruption. First of all they couldn't understand how we could stay in jail if all we had to do was purge our contempt. After a few days we could see that the message was getting across to them. They understood that it was about a dangerous pipeline and that we were stopping them from coming on to our land.
They said that they wouldn't allow that either. They'd say, “you're right.” If a new prisoner asked us why we wouldn't apologise to the Judge the others would turn on him and explain, “Can't you see why they're here?” They admired the fact that we could go out whenever we liked but that we weren't going to give in. That seemed to be important to them. We were totally comfortable with them. I suppose we had the social skills to get on with people easily enough.

I felt as well from a personal point of view that it was the first time many of them were ever listened to in their lives. They would tell you more and more about themselves and their background and the mess they had got themselves into. Drugs and women seemed to be the source of their problems in many cases. You could see how they had no way out really when they were released. They'd go back to the same environment and they'd be back in. Even within the three month period that we're talking about we saw the revolving door syndrome. Some of them were very young, maybe 20, with maybe three or four kids. At visiting hours their babies would be brought it. This was very sad to see and sadder to know that nothing was going to change for them. I often thought of what we could do with all the money from our oil and gas that was given away for nothing...

When we walked around the yard the other prisoners would greet us with “Up the Rossport Five”, “Keep It Up”. They had a phrase – “Staunch It Out”, accompanied by a clenched fist. The prisoners from the other wing would shout out the window.

Even at visiting time the prisoners' families would be waving to us from outside the screen in support. The message was out there. It was about common justice. The prisoners saw that. They were very supportive....

The occasional journeys to the Court were a big help. It was important to get out. Every time we went out there was media interest. It was good for our supporters and we also had a chance to meet our families. It would reinforce them.

Reporters would be there and you'd see something in the newspapers afterwards. All that helped to keep up the morale and to keep the campaign alive. We were amazed at how it had taken off, how it had captured the imagination. Amazed but obviously pleasantly surprised as well. Most of the press was very favourable. There was one article in a Sunday newspaper that tried to do a hatchet job on us and on the community in Rossport by trying to portray us as backward, lazy – the usual. The journalist failed to realise that the days of pitching East against West are gone...

When we came out it was straight back into the campaign. We were exhausted. It was back to watching the road again. We had no break at all.”

Our Story, The Rossport 5 is published by Small World Media.€12