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11 February 1999 Edition

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Television: Ballyvaughan to Bogota

An Bealach O Dheas (TnaG)

Vicious Circle (BBC 1)

Across the Line (Network 2)

Children of The Sewers (UTV)

King Hussein's funeral (all channels)

``..but of all the fine places that I've ever seen,
Sure there's none to compare with the Cliffs of Dooneen..''

The west coast of Clare and indeed much of the West of Ireland is rapidly becoming commercialised in order to woo German sharkfishers, RUC windsurfers, English hippies with goat's cheese in their pockets and the ever present ``fat Yank'' with green flares and camera.

Prices have spiralled in many areas, due to the demand for holiday homes, forcing a number of natives to look elsewhere for housing. Profits have been accrued by the greedy few, as is always the case.

An ingredient in this haste to make dollars at our environment's expense was the attempted vandalism of the Burren in North Clare by the Office of Public Works when they began building an `interpretive centre' in Mullaghmore, the most beautiful area of the Burren.

For the initiated, the Burren was created by the failure of the massive glaciers of the Ice Age to deposit soil on large swathes of North Clare, leaving in its place a barren limestone topography, as featured in Telifis na Gaeilge's excellent ``An Bealach o Dheas''. This is another TnaG gem - I never tire of telling you about the superb little programmes that crop up every now and then in the TnaG schedules - with terrific scenery and commentary from the energetic Dermot Somers, who leaves one feeling with a taste of guilt and laziness.

``Leanann se 2 na sean boithre glas ar toir ar sinsear go dti na mireanna meara le spresagadh iontu''. Dermot poetically takes us to the jigsaw-like limestone surfaces, punctuated by many slits, rare flowers found nowhere elsewhere on the planet except here and above the Arctic Circle and underground rivers.

Tá ``clochadoireacht daingin, seasamh agus buan anseo l'ealain iontach ag baint leis'' agus cuid de cosuil le ``obair na Dé''. He marvels at the amazing stonework, also to be found in the neighbouring Aran islands and the amazing Dolmens, built in ancient times in honour of the dead.

There is much folklore and history about this place, none more so than the neighbouring Lemenah castle, where local lass Maire Rua married one of Cromwell's soldiers in order to save her skin and abode.

When the dastardly Cromwell had returned to bible-bash Britain, she promptly turfed her new found husband over the parapets and was a free woman once more - Clare's original feminist!

The bould Dermot ends his day by catching fish in a nearby stream and cooking up some nosh with a sliced loaf and a hot cuppa by his portable `bender' as the sun recedes - no ``twenty Regal and a pint o' green'' for this buck.

And then by the wonder of television we are across to America and onto a free ride into Colombia, where we pick up on two intrepid travellers. It is Day 65 in Cartegena, the former port where Spanish conquistadors amassed their stolen loot from across the continent, in preparation for shipment to Madrid.

Chosen from a cast of thousands, to star in Network 2's ``Across the Line'' and surviving on meagre resources, the two young women are likeable if lacking somewhat in any decent political or historical analysis.

They travel upriver to the Mouza emerald mines, where many survive by scavenging the remains of the mines for that lucky emerald, including Maria, who found her last gem over a year ago, earning 300 dollars in the process, to feed the clan for the year. Colombia is home to ``guerrillas'', ``bandits'' or ``freedom fighters'' depending on your stance and the girls are somewhat intrigued by this, as they are by the elections which are probably

a sham - particularly if the Yanks have anything to do with it - and perhaps by the fact that the majority of people live in abject poverty, which is completely ignored. The pair like a drink and some of the best (or maybe worst) moments in the series have been when they have been filmed while sliding into drunken giddiness. And they paid them for this!

``Children of the Sewers'' painted a very different picture of Colombia, one of corruption, drug addiction and routine violence, used in abundance against the defenceless 30,000 or so street children, many of whom are forced onto the streets by a violent background - almost two thirds of women in Colombia feel safer in the street than at home.

The street children are deemed unsightly and a nuisance and therefore disposable, leading to many murders carried out by the forces of law and order. The children are then buried in secret mass graves or left to rot.

Many of these children have chosen a life in the sewers to protect themselves, where children as young as five have to share their environment with rats, darkness, the constant stench of excrement and flooding from excrement. They survive on a diet of scraps from the dump and glue sniffing.

Enter Jaime, Oil Executive turned Bogota's answer to Mother Theresa, rescuing hundreds of the ``poor unfortunates'' from their misery and relocating them in a Reform school, financed by oil men in suits.

Jaime also organises soup kitchens and runs a team of dentists, doctors and other medics all work to improve the plight of the sewer kids.

One wonders if this is the answer however, and despite the efforts of Jaime, who is over-lionised in the UTV production, Colombia remains yet another corrupt Latin America state. Jaime can do no more than alleviate some of the personal suffering - a worthy aim, no doubt - but he could hasten real change by asking what sort of political and economic structure brings this about. Colombia's children may thank him then even more. But I wonder is that too radical a project to be exposed on our television screens.

Speaking of which what is it with the attempts to portray Martin Cahill as some sort of an ``Al Pacino in an anorak'', with the BBC the latest in the queue to offer up the usual tripe - clever man with pigeons, who likes to eat cream buns, rob art galleries,

nail his friends to pool tables and fool the Garda (well that's not hard!).

Enter the stereotypical IRA characters, serious men in black trench coats with emerald ties ``looking for their cut'', squatting in front of Sacred Heart pictures and dreaming of Pearse and Tone. It is a sign of dumbing down that drama is not able to rise above the old cliches and stereotypes when presenting drama like this. Or maybe, once again, it would be dangerously radical for television to present a true picture.

For the real Martin Cahill see Sean O'Bradaigh's more accurate portrayal in An Phoblacht following Cahill's demise and again when John Boorman's film The General was released. He showed this criminal as individualistic and anti-people, powered by greed and self-interest. No Robin Hood. Just a hood.

Finally, just a mention of the coverage of the funeral of King Hussein of Jordan. British channels were as gushing in their praise as if a revered member of their own royal family (if there are any left) had died. Not a word of criticism was spoken. The word `democracy' was conveniently forgotten - it is only used when criticising anti-Western regimes. The Sandhurst-educated Hussein was the West's favourite in the Arab world and it didn't matter if democracy was a foreign concept to his feudal system. At least RTE - to my great surprise - had an alternative view from journalist Robert Fisk, though otherwise they followed the lead set by the British media.

By Sean O'Donaile

An Phoblacht
44 Parnell Sq.
Dublin 1
Ireland