A living reality

Chris McCartney discusses the work of Quaker Service in Northern Ireland

It is hard enough to be a teenager today. But some young people in the area where West and North Belfast meet, near the Peace Line, are facing the usual challenges of schoolwork, peer pressure and worry for the future against a backdrop of crushing poverty, violence and division. Quakers, though, have become known as a source of love and practical support to turn things around for young people in one of the poorest communities in Britain.

It’s also one of the toughest neighbourhoods to grow up in Belfast and a world away from quaint historic Meeting houses or committee agendas. People here know or care nothing for George Fox or the testimonies. But, for them, Quakers are known and trusted due to Quaker Service, a small charity that has worked for almost fifty years supporting families in crisis. Quaker Service originated in initiatives by Friends who were responding to the early Troubles. For many in North and West Belfast the word ‘Quakers’ means a lifeline, a place of safety, the chance for a fresh start.

Megan

Take Megan. She was born in the year before the Good Friday Agreement in Northern Ireland, yet has grown up in the shadow of the peace walls, which still divide the community here. She has known Quakers since the age of two, when her family became involved in the charity. She says: ‘It’s safe to say Quakers has been a big part of my life. Quakers has helped me out with a lot, especially in the last six months.’

Now aged twenty, Megan is one of seventy young people at risk getting intensive help every year through Quaker Service’s Teenage Project. Together they tackle tough issues like mental health, self harm, suicide and attitudes to violence, and the participants find a safe place to learn life skills and grow in confidence.

Megan says: ‘Without the help from Quakers I wouldn’t be where I am today. Quakers gave me support when I needed a hostel for me and my daughter, from helping me make phone calls to meetings… It was a safe haven for me during that time.’ At Quaker Cottage, in Belfast, she learnt to cook, write a CV and found unconditional love and support no matter what life was throwing at her.

Megan has worked hard to get her first job and move into a more permanent home with her three-year-old daughter. She is now a peer mentor and has joined a Youth Forum, helping to steer the charity’s work with other marginalised young people. She said: ‘I have been able to achieve everything I have ever wanted and without you all I wouldn’t be the person I am today.’

A non-judgemental approach

In this difficult context, Quakers are uniquely placed to work openly and non-judgementally with whoever comes through the doors, no matter what their religion or background, and to bring people together, often for the first time.

Ronan, aged eighteen, had never gone to a Protestant area or known people from the other side of the community until he joined the Quaker Teenage Project. ‘Before I would have just judged them,’ he said. ‘Quakers have helped me realise we are all the same. When people come to Quakers it’s a completely different environment. Everyone is seen and treated equally. It’s like a big family. Now I have strong friendships with people in the Protestant community and I could go to those friends if I needed something. I am more than a label.’

For Megan, Ronan and young people growing up in their community the challenges are great. This area was most affected by the Troubles, and the legacy of violence, trauma and division will take generations to heal. Paramilitarism and summary justice persists despite shaky political progress in Northern Ireland. Suicide is all too common. Health is poor and life expectancy lags years behind the national average. Austerity is biting, creating challenging times for public services and charities as more people fall into crisis.

Over many years, Quaker Service has worked out how to walk with these families in crisis in a unique project. It is painstaking, difficult work with people facing complex problems – issues that would cause most of us to unravel – who are often forgotten and marginalised by mainstream services. It’s a holistic and flexible way of working, built on relationships and Friends’ values. Quakers know transformation for individuals and for a country takes time and are there for the long haul.

The marginalised

When Sophie got involved with Quakers, she was living in an abusive relationship and had received threatening calls from paramilitaries in her community. She says: ‘I had three children and my children went through it also. I didn’t know there was anybody out there, anybody who cared. I thought my life was that way, it was meant to be.’

Sophie spent time every week at Quaker Cottage, meeting with a group of other mums facing a tough time, while their children were cared for in the next room. It became an oasis from the daily challenges, and provided an opportunity to reflect and find strength to face them. A summer scheme and a week-long residential cemented lifelong friendships while Quaker Service staff were there to support through illness, court proceedings or family breakdown.

‘Quakers have become our family. Quakers showed me what life is like, what it could be,’ she says. ‘You feel the love. You realise you are not the only one that’s suffering.’

While Sophie’s family has finished its one-year intensive programme at Quaker Cottage, the relationship goes on: ‘They are always there – I just need to pick up the phone. I am always welcomed in, loved. I never had that in my life until Quakers.’

The other place where Quaker Service has been well placed to offer transforming love with practical support is in Northern Ireland’s prisons. The charity opened the first UK visitors’ centre at The Maze prison in the early 1970s, but changes to government funding ended this project in 2015. Yet the need to support vulnerable prisoners – and the evidence of a difference made – meant the work continued in a different guise.

Quaker Service arranges for ‘befrienders’ to visit isolated prisoners. The act of someone being there voluntarily, listening and building a relationship is a powerful witness to those who feel forgotten and worthless.

James, aged fifty-five, has been in and out of custody since he was eleven years old. He is anxious about his upcoming release. He said: ‘The first time they let me out they gave me a phone – I didn’t know what to do with it and, anyway, who would I call? I have no one.’

This time round James has been matched with a befriender. He has come to feel valued and looks forward to their visits: ‘I trust Quakers, and I’ve learned over the years to trust no one.’ As he waits for release, James has also found a new purpose as a volunteer, making furniture for the charity. He said: ‘I tell people I work for Quakers now… it gives me a sense of pride, knowing that you’re doing something and maybe giving a little back.’

This isn’t a remnant of Friends’ historic reputation or their social justice work in the past, but a living reality for people in crisis today. It’s a powerful counterpoint to those who suspect Friends of being too intellectual, middle class or inward-looking. The work of Quaker Service seeks out that something worthwhile and precious, that of God, in everybody, and shows that lives can be changed when we help people to find it.

Chris is a board member of Quaker Service.

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