Two reasons to be cheerful: Hassan and Hussein

Sunday Tribune, 11 April

There are days when you just have to get out and walk. Push the chair away from the PC, fling the radio in the bin and bang the door closed. Walk with your eyes half-shut and your fingers in your ears, in case you see a headline or overhear a conversation about bankers.
There are days when you have to block out the constant bad news. Last Thursday was one of those days. I walked for hours around the coast at Sandycove, trying to think of something positive to write about. I'll write about spring, I thought. I'll talk about the stretch in the evenings and the warm, collar-loosening breeze tripping in from Dalkey Island. I'll say "forget Nama, Anglo and financial haircuts. Forget about economic green shoots – the green shoots of spring are here. Take a walk. Enjoy the sunshine. It's free."
Horse crap. A sunny day isn't going to make me forget my mortgage. Or you yours.
I stopped to buy milk and was drawn to the Herald's front page. There was a picture of two babies, asleep in each other's arms. They were nose to nose.
I'm not a 'goo-goo, ga-ga' merchant. I won't thank you for showing me photos of your tots napping, crapping or being 'adorable'. This picture was different. It hit me in the solar plexus and forced a lump up into my throat.
On Wednesday, twins Hassan and Hussein Benhaffaf from Cork underwent an operation to separate them at the chest. I thought of their parents, waiting 14 hours, hoping for good news. I had nothing to measure it against. All my own worries were dwarfed by the boys' tiny faces.
Walking home, I thought about the Ireland they would grow up in. I imagined them in 20 years' time, riffling through the newspaper coverage of their operation. I saw April 2010's other stories spilling out of the pages.
Last week's news kicked off on a raunchy note, with Dan Boyle sending everybody porn. Next time, Dan, just send me flowers. 'Dan Boyle' and 'porn' are words I never want to see in the same sentence again. Dan's Twitter account had been hacked.
The following day, Dublin's city councillors asked to be trained to use Twitter. Coincidence? They discussed how much this training would cost.
Question: who needs to be paid to be 'trained' to use Twitter? Are our city councillors really that thick? Evidently so.
Councillors weren't the only public servants finding ingenious ways of wasting money. Judge James O'Connor wasn't impressed when he heard the authorities had spent €1,500 escorting a prisoner from Dublin to his Kerry courtroom.
What was the prisoner's crime? He had failed to display a tax disc. If ever a story summed up state-sponsored wastefulness, this was it. No wait, there's another story that sums it up better.
Another desperado is driving around with gardaí in tow at our expense – to the tune of €170,000. That's what Bertie Ahern's state car bill cost in 2009, as he promoted his book. Bertie needs his car, as he hates being in one place for too long. That place is the Dáil. He spent just 12 minutes there for Lenihan's Nama speech before shouting "Quick! To the Bert-Mobile!"
I'd love to be his driver. Ever see the ending of Thelma and Louise, Bert?
Twenty years from now, Hassan and Hussein may turn the page on Bertie and switch on Liveline. Joe may still be talking about banning head shops. Last week, minister Seán Connick told Hotpress he had an open mind about them. Hopefully, despite out-of-touch politicians trying to be 'cool', the twins won't grow up with a head shop down the road.
Hopefully, they will grow up healthy and strong enough to hurl for Cork – while half the country's adults are getting their cholesterol checked. According to a Kelloggs survey, 55% of Irish children don't play sport. The Celtic Tigers spawned pampered Celtic Piglets. Piglets who may have to pay extra to fly Ryanair. In 20 years' time, the airline will probably have introduced the 'tax' on overweight passengers it dreamed up last April.
It may also have introduced a loo charge. 'Spend a euro to spend a penny'. Last week, it hiked baggage charges by a third for July/August. Fat, bursting for a pee and wearing layers and layers of holiday clothes to avoid bringing another bag – that's the future of aviation, Ryanair-style.
As I walked along the coast, fuming over the general crappiness of life, I tried to focus on that picture of the twins. I eventually realised why their struggle meant so much to us. We needed something to take us out of ourselves. We needed to set aside the bitterness and feel positive emotions again. Humanity was at work. Hassan and Hussein gave us a brief respite from last week's cynicism and selfishness. Nama, Anglo, Bertie, Ryanair: none of them matter to the twins' parents. They have a higher priority. It's a matter of perspective.
At home on Thursday evening, I switched on the news. I crossed my fingers. You probably did too. Hassan and Hussein were stable after their operation. It was the news we needed. It was something to write about.
Sometimes the green shoots are there. You just have to know where to look for them.

dkenny@tribune.ie

April 11, 2010