A meeting of Sinn Féin’s past and present

Party president Gerry Adams was making a star turn to canvas with the party’s MEP candidate for Ireland South, Liadh Ní Riada, and local city councillor Chris O’Leary.
Gerry, accompanied by Ní Riada and O’Leary, hopped out of a black Sinn Féin bus, beamed at shocked locals and proceeded to stroll around in the midday sunshine, shaking hands with children, star- struck elderly people, and delighted teenagers sitting on the grass, pier wall, or at tables outside a coffee shop.
Whether you’re a fan of his politics or not, Adams is one of the iconic figures of our time and people stared as he moved around the riverside.
While Gerry, despite his work on the peace process, can’t seem to move beyond his past, in the South, MEP candidate Ní Riada is just the kind of person the party wants to propel it into the future.
Daughter of composer Seán Ó Riada, Liadh, a former RTÉ producer, independent production company owner, and a woman put on the board to set up TG4 by now-President Michael D Higgins, she is smart, tough, and bullish about the future of Sinn Féin.
SF has made huge inroads in the South through relentless community work in disadvantaged areas by the likes of Mr O’Leary.
It’s a mantra they seem to be using for Europe too. No matter what the issue, they tell people that a Sinn Féin MEP will fight that battle for them.
One Cork family, the Mulhalls from Mahon, had come to the pier especially to see Adams. The family has been waiting years to get their city council house adapted for their mother, who has dementia and Alzheimer’s.
Ní Riada listened intently, then told them their wait for basic health and housing was a “human rights issue” and just the kind of thing she would fight for. “You’ll get our vote anyway Liadh,” said Mr Mulhall. “Chris here is the one person that’s been with us all the way.”
Up along the pier were three friends, Declan Cummins, Jackers Ahern, and John Leahy, aged 72, 83, and 78 respectively.
As Gerry and Liadh chatted to people working at the local boat club, they called out to him to come over. “You’re a great man Gerry. I would always have been a Labour voter but look at what they are doing the country,” said Cummins.
“They are dragging the last penny out of us,” said Jackers. “What are they doing to the working man, I ask you?”
John couldn’t hide his delight: “Tis great to have you here Gerry. Sinn Féin’s time has come. We thought Fianna Fáil was bad but these guys are worse.”
O’Leary brought Gerry and Liadh to meet members of a local rowing club who take children out rowing every Saturday morning for a mere €50 a year. But they’ve nowhere to store their €40,000 of boats.
The girls would have talked for the morning about their plight, but it was Ní Riada who cut to the chase. “What are your issues? What do you need?” she asked, showing the efficiency of a woman who has run her own business.
But just as the Sinn Féin team moved to get back into the bus, another great canvas done, a man stepped out of the crowd in sunglasses and a baseball hat.
“Can I ask you a few questions Gerry? Seriously, there’s a few things I’d like to hear you answer.”
Adams wasn’t even remotely flustered but could sense what was coming.
“Why do you keep on telling us you weren’t in the IRA Gerry?” the man continued. “The dogs on the street know. And what about Jean McConville Gerry? Why won’t you tell us the truth?”
The man got increasingly agitated as Adams spoke of how his work on the peace process spoke for itself.
As Adams got into the bus, the man continued to shout at O’Leary, who had stayed behind, trying to defend his party.
A middle-aged man came over and asked that the two continue their conversation more quietly. “There’s a young girl out here for her Communion day. This isn’t the kind of thing she should be hearing,” he said. Both men agreed.
What started as a picture-perfect morning had suddenly started to cloud.