UGLY NOTORIETY DESCENDS ON TOWN
Ugly notoriety descends on town
Irish News staff journalist Orla Bannon was in the centre of Omagh, her home town, when the bomb exploded. This is her story
PEOPLE in Omagh have always been sheltered from the worst atrocities of the troubles. That is why coming to terms with the most horrific of all has been so traumatic.
Omagh is a quiet town. There is a nationalist majority but locals pride themselves on a good cross-community record, and while tension has often risen elsewhere in the north - particularly during the marching seasons - its inhabitants have been lucky enough to largely escape drama or danger.
Up until a few months ago when the tragic circumstances surrounding the death of teenager Sylvia Fleming began to unfold, Omagh had never been the attention of the national media before. Now the world's press is here.
It has been strange over the last few hours to watch visitors like Mo Mowlam and Mary McAleese standing beside familiar landmarks and see live TV link-ups between us and the rest of the world. Even Bill Clinton and Tony Blair now know where Omagh is. The town has been put on the map for all the wrong reasons and people are angry.
Before the awful events of Saturday it would be fair to say a perception existed in some quarters that Omagh townsfolk had little real understanding of paramilitary violence.
While many of the rural communities in Tyrone, some of which are now facing grief and loss again, buried victims of bombings and shootings at regular intervals down the years, the people of Omagh remained a bit naive and escaped relatively untouched by it all.
It is not surprising then that while most people's energies have naturally been taken up with tracing the whereabouts of friends and family over the past couple of days, there is growing resentment that the tranquillity everyone has come to take for granted has been shattered so brutally. Locals are not used to dealing with this kind of tragedy and do not want to be.
The sense of panic and confusion on the streets of Omagh on Saturday afternoon was terrifying, even for someone like myself who was fortunate enough to only feature on the fringes. I was not on Market Street when the bomb went off, but had just walked down a back entry to John Street, beside the courthouse.
It was initially deserted, having been evacuated by the police. Suddenly dozens of people, though it was only afterwards I realised they were mostly teenagers, came running around the corner from the top of High Street, past the courthouse and across John Street.
Some were smattered with blood but almost all were screaming and yelling that another bomb was going to go off any second and for people to run. I too started running, although I was not sure why or where I was running to.
Such had been the shock of the explosion, in an area which was supposed to be safe, the people who had come from the scene did not seem sure where to go next.
By Saturday evening an eerie silence had descended on the town. Few people were walking the streets but true to form in a small town, it was not long before horrific eyewitness accounts and rumours of who had actually been killed or maimed began to emerge.
By yesterday, official word was filtering through. At Mass, parishioners carried out mental head counts, desperately looking around to see who they could see or more importantly, who they couldn't.
As normal life came to a standstill many events were cancelled -including the Tyrone Senior Football Championship semi-final between Omagh and Donaghmore due to take place last night. Until Saturday afternoon it had been the main talking point in the town.
It will be easy to rebuild the part of the town known as Market Street but it is doubtful that people will ever forget what they saw, what they heard or what they felt on the saddest day Omagh has ever known.
Irish News staff journalist Orla Bannon was in the centre of Omagh, her home town, when the bomb exploded. This is her story
PEOPLE in Omagh have always been sheltered from the worst atrocities of the troubles. That is why coming to terms with the most horrific of all has been so traumatic.
Omagh is a quiet town. There is a nationalist majority but locals pride themselves on a good cross-community record, and while tension has often risen elsewhere in the north - particularly during the marching seasons - its inhabitants have been lucky enough to largely escape drama or danger.
Up until a few months ago when the tragic circumstances surrounding the death of teenager Sylvia Fleming began to unfold, Omagh had never been the attention of the national media before. Now the world's press is here.
It has been strange over the last few hours to watch visitors like Mo Mowlam and Mary McAleese standing beside familiar landmarks and see live TV link-ups between us and the rest of the world. Even Bill Clinton and Tony Blair now know where Omagh is. The town has been put on the map for all the wrong reasons and people are angry.
Before the awful events of Saturday it would be fair to say a perception existed in some quarters that Omagh townsfolk had little real understanding of paramilitary violence.
While many of the rural communities in Tyrone, some of which are now facing grief and loss again, buried victims of bombings and shootings at regular intervals down the years, the people of Omagh remained a bit naive and escaped relatively untouched by it all.
It is not surprising then that while most people's energies have naturally been taken up with tracing the whereabouts of friends and family over the past couple of days, there is growing resentment that the tranquillity everyone has come to take for granted has been shattered so brutally. Locals are not used to dealing with this kind of tragedy and do not want to be.
The sense of panic and confusion on the streets of Omagh on Saturday afternoon was terrifying, even for someone like myself who was fortunate enough to only feature on the fringes. I was not on Market Street when the bomb went off, but had just walked down a back entry to John Street, beside the courthouse.
It was initially deserted, having been evacuated by the police. Suddenly dozens of people, though it was only afterwards I realised they were mostly teenagers, came running around the corner from the top of High Street, past the courthouse and across John Street.
Some were smattered with blood but almost all were screaming and yelling that another bomb was going to go off any second and for people to run. I too started running, although I was not sure why or where I was running to.
Such had been the shock of the explosion, in an area which was supposed to be safe, the people who had come from the scene did not seem sure where to go next.
By Saturday evening an eerie silence had descended on the town. Few people were walking the streets but true to form in a small town, it was not long before horrific eyewitness accounts and rumours of who had actually been killed or maimed began to emerge.
By yesterday, official word was filtering through. At Mass, parishioners carried out mental head counts, desperately looking around to see who they could see or more importantly, who they couldn't.
As normal life came to a standstill many events were cancelled -including the Tyrone Senior Football Championship semi-final between Omagh and Donaghmore due to take place last night. Until Saturday afternoon it had been the main talking point in the town.
It will be easy to rebuild the part of the town known as Market Street but it is doubtful that people will ever forget what they saw, what they heard or what they felt on the saddest day Omagh has ever known.
Further Information
Publisher: THE IRISH NEWS
Ref: IN/0004
Published Date: 17-Aug-98
Related Images
